Faetality |✓|

Chapter Six, Part Four - Home Alone

Armed with a baseball bat, I combed the entire house. I checked showers, inspected closets, and searched under every bed. Fortunately or unfortunately, here was no one to find and nothing seemed missing or out of place. Eventually I let the idea cross my mind that maybe Dad came home for a spell, went into the backyard for something, and simply hadn't noticed leaving the door unlocked. But even as my search of the house drew to a close, something about my theory still nagged at the corners of my mind. Dad was always thorough when it came to safety, and for as long as I could remember he had never left a door unsecure when it should have been locked.

At the sound of Margie's loud, attention-drawing entrance, I shut dad's bedroom door behind me and tiptoed down the hall to my room. His was the last room I'd checked, and though I hadn't found anything out of sorts, I still had the feeling something was off.

"Whatcha doin'?" Margie popped up in the doorway just as I opened my emails on the computer at my desk.

"Juuuuust checkin' some emails."

She strolled into the room and dropped onto the bed. "You know, I heard this rumor at school today..."

"Oh yeah? What about?"

"That you broke up with Dean at your birthday party. Is that true?"

"Yeah, it's true." I shrugged. "But it's no big deal."

"Yeah, well, I may not be able to lie to you but that doesn't mean you can't lie to me."

"Just say what you really mean."

"I wanted to make sure you're ok, dummy."

"So we're done being mad at each other?"

"Yeah. For now." She raised her eyebrows. "But you're not really ok," she pointed out.

I had already chosen against the decision to alarm her with news about the door in the living room being left open. I didn't think it was the Sorcerer–unless he left school to raid my home. But I doubted that was the case, so the real suspect was... just about anyone–including the Fae. Perhaps Westley really hadn't attacked my mother. Maybe there was someone else looking for the box...

"I had a rough day," I admitted. "I'm starving but I've been running on tea for the past two hours, we have this awful new English teacher, Lana thinks there's a killer in Harbor Village, and to top it off I lost my favorite pen. To say the least, this day has been full of suck."

My sister gave me a knowing look. "And absolutely none of that suckage had anything to do with Dean?"

"Not a drop."

I felt a buzzing sensation and removed my phone from my pocket. "Speak of the devil," I said wryly, after checking the screen.

"Who is it?"

"Dean. He's calling me."

"Well... are you gonna answer it?"

I thought for a few seconds, contemplating. "Nope." I set the phone down. Thirty seconds later I ignored his voicemail as well.

"Margie, do remember Mom ever mentioning a box when we were growing up? Or do you remember seeing one?"

Margot shook her head. "No, but I know that there are boxes in the attic..."

We locked eyes for only a second before scrambling to the door.

"Okay, we've got about an hour before Dad comes home," I said, looking down at my watch as we both stopped at the end of the third floor hallway.