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“They’re still my family. We have the same gift.

” I take a corner faster than I should, and Cathy gasps.

“It’s safer if you don’t know, okay? Not that anywhere is safe around here, especially not for supernaturals.

The Wicklow folks come and go through the barrier whenever they want.

And they kill off any supernaturals who happen to settle in Wicklow, Kinsale, Coosaw, or anywhere they deem too close for comfort.

For the past decade, they’ve left us alone, mostly.

We Lockwoods may fight like dogs among ourselves, but we protect each other against outsiders. ”

“I still don’t believe they’re murderers.” Her voice trembles a little.

“About four years ago, three young supernaturals moved to Kinsale. Their gifts were all new…a resurgence in their families. Two kelpies and a clurichaun. They were just looking for someone who believed in the old lore and might have information about how to survive in the modern world with those kinds of powers.” I pause, thinking of the girl in that trio—sleek black hair and beautiful eyes.

I slept with her once. Might have done more if…

I clear my throat. “Yeah, your ‘decent people’ put together a posse and killed them. None since then…but if I’d called myself a Lockwood when I walked into your church the other day, I’d have been shot on the steps the second I left the building.”

“But you came anyway,” Cathy says quietly. “You came to see me.”

The gentleness in her tone makes me flinch, slams the gates shut around my heart. I don’t do gentle or sweet. I’m fucking toxic and I own up to that. The sooner she realizes it, the better.

“I was curious,” I answer in a casual tone. “I did meet another cute girl there, too. Isabella Linton. Nice body. She invited me to some singles thing.”

“The beach picnic?” Cathy’s voice is cold now.

“Yeah. Might go. See if I can’t get the minister’s virgin daughter to put out, since you won’t.”

“Do whatever you want,” she says icily. “I’m dating Edgar anyway.”

“One date. And you ran away from him tonight—twice.”

She bristles. “Just a misunderstanding. I’ll fix it. Edgar’s nice. He’s good for me. Doesn’t treat me like a hole to be fucked or a doll to be toted around through the forest.”

“Yeah. He just plans to fake apologize so he can take you to the beach and interrogate you some more.” Careening into her driveway, I slam the brakes and throw the truck into park.

“Next time I see you heading into the woods to do your banshee thing, I won’t follow you, not even if you’re barefoot and bare-ass naked. ”

“Nobody asked you to follow me the first time.”

“Nope, and I sure as shit won’t do it again. Get out of my truck, Earnshaw.”

She glances toward the house. One tense, fearful glance. Immediately she shutters the expression, throws me a malicious glare, and hops out of the truck. She eases the door closed instead of slamming it, like I expected. She’s scared of something in that house. Doesn’t want to make too much noise.

At that realization, every bit of my irritation with her disappears. I’m out of the truck in a blink, striding after her toward the porch. “Earnshaw, stop.”

“Go home, Heathcliff.”

“I can see you’re scared, okay? Hold up! Are you safe here? Do you want—” But I can’t invite her home with me. She’d be even less safe at the Grange.

I take the three porch steps in one stride, and when she turns around, I’m right there. She’s in my space, I’m in hers, and I can’t fucking breathe.

“I said, go home,” she hisses. “Leave, before he realizes you’re here.”

“He?”

The front door opens, and a huge man fills the space. He’s got muscle, not just paunch—a real brawler type, even bigger than Hindley. Drunk off his ass, too. And just my luck, he’s got a shotgun.

“You Cathy’s date?” he slurs. “I thought she was goin’ out with that Edgar Linton.”

“Oh, um, yeah…Linton’s car got a flat, so I brought her home.”

“Good Samaritan, eh?” Mr. Earnshaw watches me with narrowed eyes, his thumb stroking the stock of the shotgun. “What’s your name, kid? How do you know Edgar?”

I square my shoulders. “I’m Cliff. A friend of his from high school.”

“Cliff?” He snorts. “Dumbass name. I got a nose for trouble, Cliff, and I’m smelling it all over you. So tell you what…why don’t you get your ass off my porch before I punch you full of holes?”

“Dad, no!” Cathy steps forward, right into the firing line of the gun. “Cliff is harmless, really. I had such a nice time tonight—don’t spoil it.”

“Nice time, eh?” Her dad hoists the shotgun again and racks it. “You best git, boy.”

Any other time I’d charge him, let him have it, teach him not to frighten his daughter like this. But she’s still standing between me and her dad. I can’t risk her getting hurt.

“Of course, sir.” I hold up both hands and back away, down the steps.

“I don’t like you, Cliff,” slurs Mr. Earnshaw. “I see you ’round here again, I’ll put a bullet in you. Probably more ’n one. I’m friends with the sheriff, see? He’ll understand that a man’s got a right to defend his land and his daughter’s virtue. Get inside, Cathy.”

“I’ll go in,” she says calmly. “After Cliff leaves.”

“Hear that, Cliff ?” barks Earnshaw. “Go on now.”

“You have a good night,” I say through gritted teeth.

I turn my back to him and force myself to walk to the truck, my spine and shoulders prickling with the awareness that they could get spattered with buckshot any second. It takes everything I’ve got to climb into my truck, drive away, and leave her there with him.

She has lived with him for years and he hasn’t done her permanent harm. She’ll be all right. I have to believe she’ll be all right.

But this is just one more reason to accelerate the plan I set in motion tonight. I’ve got to get away from here.

And I’m going to take Cathy with me.