Page 161 of Nothing More

It was a nice party. Someone who wasn’t fighting relentless waves of anxiety and melancholy would have said that, anyway. The lights, the fires, the ridiculous spread of food, the flowing drinks and bright tumbles of laughter – it was a lively, friendly atmosphere, Lean Dogs and their families, children zipping past, dropping mittens and flapping scarves in their wake.

Raven, though, couldn’t seem to relax or find any joy in the gathering.

Joanna offered her more wine when she made it downstairs, but she swapped to water, instead. The wine hadn’t settled her nerves to start with, so there was no sense pouring more alcohol on the problem. Cup of water in hand, she moved through the house, smiling, nodding, murmuring lots of “lovely”s as she met dozens of people whose names and faces she couldn’t hope to remember. She was normally sogoodat parties, but not tonight, and though she felt a twinge of guilt, her mounting uneasiness was too much to compete with.

She finally made her way outside – moving through the house was like swimming against the tide – and ran into Miles on the back porch, chatting up a girl with a high, blond ponytail and a shy smile.Sweet, she thought, and offered him a smile, and moved on. She would find Cass just as well without him, and it wasn’t as if he’d been keeping eyes on her anyway.

It was easier outside: the cool of the air on her flushed face, a little breathing room between bodies, long stretches of empty grass, plenty of space to soak up the loud voices and music.

She found Reese first, standing by himself and surveying the scene with a placid, not-unhappy expression, nursing a bottle of beer. “Where’s your worse half?” she inquired. “Frightening children? Arm wrestling? Throwing knives at however many enemies he’s managed to make tonight?”

Reese smiled, small but easy. It was a marvel, really, that smile, how quickly and effortlessly it came lately. He tipped his beer bottle toward the nearest fire pit. “There. Telling stories.”

He stood with his back to them, limned in firelight, arms aloft and hips cocked, a graceful silhouette with head thrown back. For a moment, the clubhouse and the bikers faded, and Tenny stood alone, a stage actor worthy of Shakespeare. A lovely farce; tragic tears behind a classic comedy mask.

Reese said, “He’s gonna crash after this. He’s always tired after he puts on a show.”

Raven smiled, and squeezed his arm. He was a good egg, Reese. Weird, socially awkward, and with a toddler-like understanding of certain subjects, but, beneath the training and killing, there was a pure sweetness to him. It was the thing that had dragged Tenny out of his well of self-pity; the light source from which he fed, and stayed afloat. Every one of them, she reflected, thinking of her siblings, of herself, had found life rafts to which to cling, to keep them from succumbing to their father’s curse. Reese was Tenny’s. Hers was…

Well, her work, she supposed.

The ache in her chest sharpened.

“Have you seen Cass?” she asked.

He pointed with his bottle again, and Raven saw that she’d missed Cass for all of Tenny’s theatrics. She stood to his right, face turned so Raven could see she was grinning hugely, holding a Solo cup that was hopefully full of something nonalcoholic.

“Wow,” she murmured. As they watched, Tenny turned to Cass and said something that made her laugh. “He’s actually quite good with her.”

“Yeah.” Reese sounded pleased. He tipped his head. “Toly headed off that way, if you’re curious.”

She sent him a steely look. “I’m not sure I like this new and improved more perceptive you, Reese.”

His smile widened a fraction, blue eyes sparkling with something like self-satisfaction.

“Oh no.” She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t go turning into my brother. You’re better than that.”

“Uh-huh. We can keep an eye on Cass if you want to go.”

“Go where?” she asked, scowling, but stepped around him. Over her shoulder: “Which way did you say again?”

“Past that last fire pit, to the right.”

She nodded. Blew him a kiss. “Thanks, darling.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Cheeky,” she muttered to herself, as she left him, but smiled. It was good to see him growing into his own; God knew Tenny was the sort of too-vibrant character who needed a lot of handling. Reese gaining new layers of humanity could only help with that.

Her smile faded, though, as the light did. The party lights, the fires, the tree were all bright, but once she stepped beyond the last fire pit, the darkness quickly overtook the cheerful glow. The sound dimmed behind her, as though someone had cranked down the volume knob. Other, wilder sounds rushed forward: the snap of a twig, the call of an owl, the skitter of something in the underbrush. The woods around the clubhouse hadn’t been anything special the last time she was here: just stands of hardwood and pine, trunks laced with brambles and blueberry bushes at the bases. Now, though, the pale elder and maple trunks gleamed like bleached bone in the moonlight. The shadows seemed to shift, like living things.

Raven banded her arms across her middle before she could think better of it; couldn’t suppress a shiver. She stepped on something that snapped, and barely stifled a gasp.

“Toly?” she called, and her voice was that of a frightened girl, thin and wavering. More firmly: “Toly, are you here?”

A crunch, a rustle. A shadow shifted toward her, and fear flashed hard and bright in the back of her mind; liquified her joints and lodged a scream in her throat.

But then it shifted into the wan light, and it was Toly…though no less sinister for being recognizable. “Here,” he said, low, accent seeming thicker.