Page 121 of The Sister's Curse

Now our quarry was busy rolling the drums to a spot a little distance from the Jeep.

My mom slipped to the driver’s side of the Jeep. She grasped the keys and ripped them out of the ignition.

The headlights went dark, plunging us all in darkness.

—

I awoke from my trance in a little clearing. My heart beat steady and low, and I marveled at this new fragment of memory with both curiosity and dread. Pollution had been happening here for so long, decades. My mom had known.

But what had she done about it? I strained into the recesses of my mind, trying to conjure what had happened next.

I feared for the man with the Jeep. My mom wasn’t a killer, like my father was. And she was a woman, no physical match in a fight with a young man.

But I was still afraid for him, afraid of my mom’s wrath.

I sank down to my heels, sat on the ground and pressed my fists to my temples. Why couldn’t I unlock that darkness at will? Why was it just beyond my reach? Was it truly so awful that I couldn’t cope with it all at once?

Something laughed softly in the night. The fox. She’d caught a snake. She held it between her paws and gnawed at it. She’d already ripped off its head, and she was eating it the way a child might eat a Popsicle.

I didn’t intervene. This was nature. The strong killed the weak; predator killed prey. I knew that was true in the marrow of my bones.

But where was I in all this? What kind of a predator was I, tobe stripped of all my tools and cast out of the tribe? I had failed. My father would certainly be disappointed in me.

I lay down in the grass, feeling the earth pressing up against my back.

Part of me craved to be the kind of hunter he was, forever victorious, always getting his prey. Only I wanted to stay on the right side of the law, and get the criminals. I wanted to be the hunter defending the prey.

I’d failed. I hadn’t inherited his ruthlessness. I wasn’t breaking down Sumner’s door and demanding answers. Instead, I’d let the law hamstring me and leave me bleeding in the ditch.

Sinoe, having consumed her meal, trotted up to me and looked down at my face. Her breath reeked of the metallic smell of blood and fresh reptile. Her eyes were black, dilated in the darkness to swallow themselves and swallow me.

The fox had lost. She had lost everything. But still she hunted.

And so would I.

—

I returned to the house.

The fox followed, and stretched out on the dog bed I’d put on the porch. She was domestic when she chose to be, and I could respect that. Perhaps she and Gibby would someday get along. Or perhaps she’d melt into the woods entirely one day, and no one would ever see her again.

I couldn’t control her. And I had to remind myself that no one could control me.

—

When gray morning light seeped from beneath the curtains, I got dressed quietly to avoid waking Nick. I thought I would head intotown to pick up Nick’s favorite apple pastries from the donut shop. Gibby wiggled out of bed, eager to join me and have his breakfast.

I paused, looking at Nick’s sleeping form in my bed. He’d be there for the rest of my life—if I let him.

I would just clean up this one case, I vowed. I would find Viv and put the Kings of Warsaw Creek behind bars. I would make a clean break. Justice for all, right? And fuck everybody else. It felt right to be with him. To follow.

But one last hunt, first.

I took Nick’s car. His SUV had all the bells and whistles, and it must have automatically paired with my cell phone, because I got a call that came through his speakers right as I pulled out onto the road.

“It’s Monica. I heard what happened last night. Are you and Gibby okay?”

“Yeah. We’re okay. Luckily. Any news on Viv?”