All of the lights in the house were out when I finally arrived home. Dark clouds streamed over the crescent moon overhead, making it flicker like a winking eye. I headed up to the front door and tried it, but it was locked.

I checked my pockets, but I couldn't find my key anywhere. "Crap." It must have fallen out somewhere between playing beer pong and running away from an insane cult.

I pushed aside the clay flower pot with the dead chrysanthemum in it, breathing a sigh of relief when the spare key was still there, covered in dried mud. I tried it in the lock and pushed the door, but it wouldn't open.

"Shit," I hissed under my breath. The deadbolt was done from the inside. My mom must have been back. She probably hadn't realized I wasn't home when she locked it. I could knock, but then I'd wake her up and she'd know I'd been out.

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hold in as much heat as I could and keep my teeth from chattering. It couldn't have been more than forty degrees out. Carter still had my jacket, and without his body heat keeping me warm, I was freezing.

I glanced up and down the dark road. There were hardly any streetlights here at the far edge of town, and all the lights were out in the nearest house. I'd never seen anyone there. For all I knew, it was just as abandoned as the ones around the factory on Ninth Street.

The other side of the street opened directly to the woods. Branches bent and moaned with the wind, and in the darkness, my eyes played tricks on me, showing me monsters shifting between the trees. The scene from the basement of the factory wouldn't leave my mind. I could still feel the silver metal ring burning into my skin as the leader of that ritual grabbed me.

A shudder rushed through me. I should have just stayed at Carter's tonight. At least his house was warm, and his parents wouldn't care if I slept over. They loved me, for whatever reason.

I shook my head, ridding myself of the idea. I couldn't stay there. I needed to check on my mom.

Maybe the back door was open.

The side gate was also locked, but it was easy enough to climb over the fence. I lowered myself to the ground on the other side and headed through the yard, kicking the dead autumn leaves off the path as I went.

A single lamp glowed dim and yellow from the screened-in back porch, drawing me like a moth to flame. Rust flaked away from the old hinges with a crunch as I pushed the door open.

A few cigarettes rested in the ashtray on the coffee table at the center of the porch. A thin trail of smoke leaked out of one of them, dispersing into the air like a phantom. An open bottle of wine sat beside a single empty glass.

My mom was on the porch swing, her eyes closed and her head back against the wooden backrest in an uncomfortable position. Her glasses rested precariously on the bridge of her nose, and a heavy wool blanket was draped over her, slipping down her thin body to her legs. She shivered in her sleep, her hands clasping and releasing like she was trying to hold something.

I went over and pulled the blanket up to cover her shoulders. Then, I sat down next to her. The wooden swing rocked at the added weight, and she stirred awake.

"Jay?" Her eyes fluttered as they adjusted to the dim light. "I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep."

"You were waiting up for me?"

"I didn't know where you were," she said. "You didn't text."

"Sorry," I said. "My phone died." I looked at my hands, tensing and releasing my fingers into fists.

She usually didn't get back until the middle of the night. I'd figured she wouldn't even notice I was gone.

"I thought I'd wait up until you got home." Her hand brushed over my arm, and I turned to her. Her pale blue eyes glistened like they were wet with tears. "I was worried."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I was just out at a party."

Her brows furrowed as she looked me over. What happened to him? She brushed my hair back from my eye. "Jay, what happened?"

I reached to my face. I'd almost forgotten the bruise from my fight that morning. "Nothing." I pushed my hair back over to cover it. "I just got into a fight at school. It's not a big deal."

"Oh." She looked to her hands, twirling her fingers in her lap.

I shouldn't have brought him here, she thought. This is how it started with Damien—the fighting. Is he going to end up like him? I can't lose Jay too.

"It won't happen again." I wasn't sure if I was talking about the fight or about what happened to my brother. Maybe I was talking about both.

She nodded as she picked up the wine bottle, poured the last of it into the glass and took a drink. After she set it down, I picked it up and took a long sip. I hadn't realized how much I needed it until the alcohol hit me like water on a fire of nerves.

I wish he wouldn't drink, my mom thought. She looked at me as I set the glass down, but she didn't say anything about it.

"You're shaking," she said instead. "Are you all right?"

"I'm just cold," I replied. But that wasn't the truth—at least not the whole truth.

I was scared. Part of me wanted to tell her everything that happened that night, but would she even believe me if I did?

"I'm sorry we had to move here," she said. It's my fault. If I hadn't lost my job, we wouldn't've had to leave the city. He got into trouble there, but he wasn't fighting. He was happy. At least, I think he was.

Tears stung behind my eyes. I hated hearing her worry about me. I hated hearing her worry about anything.

"I'm sorry," she repeated herself, tears spilling over her eyelids and running down her cheeks. "I just want you to be happy."

I pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. "Please, don't worry about me, Mom."

I wish I could have just sold this house. I doubt anyone would have bought this dump anyway, though. Some inheritance.

I furrowed my brow as I listened to her thoughts. What did she mean inheritance? She told me she bought this place.

"Mom," I said. "Why did we move here again?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Like this specific town. Why this one?"

"Taxes," she replied. "Taxes are low here."

"Are you sure that's the reason?"

"Mmhmm" her voice was soft, almost a whisper as she leaned her head on my shoulder. Her breathing slowed along with her thoughts as she drifted to sleep.

I let her rest against me for a few minutes as I breathed in the cool, night air laced with a hint of cigarette smoke. My hands shook and my nerves raced inside of me. I reached to the glass of wine and took another sip.

What did she mean she inherited this house? Who had she inherited it from, and when?

As I drank, my thoughts drifted to the place I hadn't wanted them to go—the memories of what happened in that factory. What the hell was that? Who were those people? Members of some cult? Lola thought they might be brainwashed, or maybe possessed...but how? And by who? And, maybe most concerning...why?

A chill ran down my spine as I thought about the voice of the woman screaming, and then the voice of the man I heard. Who—and what—was that? He said he wanted to use Lola and me for something. What did that mean? Was he the leader of the cult? Could he be out there in the night right now looking for us?

A gust of wind rushed through the trees, their branches raking and slapping at the sides of the house like monsters trying to claw their way in. My mom shivered against me in her sleep, like she could feel that something was out there in the night hunting.

We need to get inside.

I shook her awake. She was still half asleep as I led her inside and to her room. After she got in bed, I placed a cup of water on her nightstand for her to have in the morning.

Then, I went to the bathroom and vomited up everything in my stomach. My entire body shook and shivered as I leaned over the toilet.

Once there was nothing left inside me to expel, I brushed my teeth and got in the shower. I stood frozen beneath the water, watching the blood from the gash on my ankle spiral down the drain until the stream went ice cold. Once my body was completely numb, I got out and put myself to bed.

***

"You can't just do things like that, Jay!" Carter scolded. He sat at the island counter, holding his head in both hands as he stared into the bottom of the mug of black coffee I'd made him.

"It's fine, I swear," I said as I continued cutting up a clove of garlic. "Come on, Carter, everyone knows it's just a myth vampires are allergic to garlic."

"No, dumbass, I mean inviting Lola over."

"Who was it that said I should ask her out, again?" I pointed the chef's knife around like I was counting my imaginary friends, finally stopping when it landed on Carter, the only real one I had. "It couldn't have been you, could it?"

"Yeah, but I didn't mean you should invite her over to my house without my permission," he grumbled. "What if I had plans?"

"Thanks for making me breakfast, Jay," I said as I scooped the garlic up with the knife and tossed it into the pan, letting it sizzle with the hot butter. "It smells amazing. This is such a kind, thoughtful, magnanimous thing for a friend to do for a guy, especially considering—"

"Oh shut up already." Carter chucked a clementine at me, striking me in the side of the arm.

"Ouch!" I feigned injury. "I'm wounded! Oh, wait! Can you toss me another one? I wanna see if I can catch it in my mouth and eat it whole!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you? No!" He rubbed his temples. "Just chill for like, a second, man. Your annoying voice is making my head hurt."

"Drink some more of your coffee." I put a few pieces of American cheese between two slices of white bread and tossed them into the pan, along with the sizzling butter and garlic. "It will help."

Carter took a swig from the mug, grimacing as he set it down. Damn, I hate drinking it black, but I don't want Jay to think I'm weak.

"Seriously, what's up with you today?" he asked as he passed the cup back and forth between his hands. "You've been acting like a nutcase all morning."

Sweat prickled the back of my neck. I'd been trying to distract myself from what happened last night, but his question brought the memories flooding back. I pinched my eyes shut for a second, trying not to think about the factory and what happened there.

Another thought churned around in the back of my mind. Why did my mom lie to me about the reason we moved here? When did she inherit the house...and from who? Why keep it a secret from me?

"Maybe I'm still drunk," I finally said. I went to the fridge and grabbed some eggs and ketchup, wincing as I placed weight on the ankle I'd sliced last night.

"Are you okay?" Carter glanced over the counter, trying to get a better look at me.

"Yeah," I said slowly. "I think I just scraped my leg walking home from the party or something. I'm fine."

"Okay," Carter replied, but I could tell from his thoughts he wasn't buying it. He's been limping all morning and acting really strange. It's like he's trying to hide something. What happened last night? Why can't I remember anything?

I chewed on my lower lip as I continued cooking. I knew I needed to tell Carter what happened because I wouldn't be able to keep it from him, but I didn't know how. I couldn't think of any way of doing it without telling him about the mind reading. I'd been planning on waiting for Lola to get here to help. Maybe she had a better idea.

I slipped my phone out of my pocket, checking to make sure she hadn't texted me, but no messages. It was already a quarter past nine, and she still hadn't shown.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and I nearly jumped.

That must be her, Carter thought. Glad Mom and Dad went out. They love Lola for some reason. Nothing like that to make things more awkward then they're already going to be.

"I'll get it," I said after taking the first grilled cheese out of the pan and placing it on a plate.

I headed over to the door, and just as the bell impatiently rang again, I pulled it open.

Lola stood on the porch, dressed in a maroon oversize sweater. The sleeves stretched completely over her hands, and the bottom few inches of her cheerleading skirt stuck out beneath. Her curly hair ruffled in the cool autumn wind, framing her face like a halo.

"You going to stand there and stare at me all morning," Lola placed her sweater covered fists on her hips, "or are you going to invite me in?"

"It depends," I replied. "Are you going to steal all of your lines from cheesy movies, or are at least some of them going to be original?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her eyelids, glaring at me through her long lashes.

"Sorry," I said. "I have this condition where sometimes I act like a dick. I can't control it, and unfortunately, there's no cure. What I meant to say was you look lovely today, Lola." I stepped out of the doorway. "Please, come in."

"Thank you," she said as she entered the foyer.

"Oh, and you're late, by the way."

"I'm fashionably late." She ran a hand along the white trim of the beige wall as she headed towards the living room. She slipped her sweater off over her head and tucked it under her arm, pausing in front of the piano.

"So what, do you just go around in your cheerleading outfit all the time or something?" I asked as I followed her into the room.

"Do you just go around dressed like it's Halloween all the time or something?" she countered.

"Yes." I deadpanned.

"There's a football game this afternoon," she finally answered my question. "I have to be there at noon." She traced the oak wood of the piano bench, her gaze flickering over the keys like she wanted to play something.

"How are you doing this morning, Lola?" I lowered my voice to near a whisper.

She breathed in heavily, letting it out through her nose and closing her eyes for a second. "Better than last night. Still shaken up, but I guess that's expected." She paused. "You?"

"About the same," I replied.

She nodded, placing one hand on her arm and holding it. After blinking a few times, she forced a smile. "What about Carter? How's he doing this morning?"

I shrugged. "About as expected. Alive, annoying, and not much else. I don't think he remembers anything from last night, if that's what you're asking."

"You haven't told him yet?" she raised an eyebrow.

"About the factory? No." I shook my head. "I was waiting for you to get here."

"So you haven't told him about the other thing either, then."

A lump formed in my throat. "What other thing?"

"You know what I'm talking about." She glared at me, lowering her voice to a whisper. "The mind reading."

"No," I said. "I don't think he needs to know about that."

If I told him, what would he think? Would he hate me for keeping it a secret from him for so long? Would he even want to be my friend anymore?

"He needs to know," Lola said. "Getting him involved and only telling him half the story would be too dangerous."

"Then maybe we shouldn't get him involved at all."

"You know we can't do that," Lola replied.

"Why?" I said. "And why don't you tell your friends about it, then?"

"You've heard their thoughts just like I have." She glanced toward the kitchen like she was checking to make sure Carter wasn't listening in. "Evelyn and Morgan won't even notice I'm up to something, let alone care or be interested in it. Carter is interested in everything you do. If you don't tell him, he's going to go looking for himself and get into trouble."

I crossed my arms in front of myself. She had a point, and I hated it. If I was doing something without telling Carter about it, he'd go poking around. He'd get himself into danger without even realizing what he was doing.

But still, I didn't want to tell him. I could keep an eye on him—make sure he didn't get in trouble. I'd find a way to protect him.

"Jay! The food is burning!" Carter called from the other room, startling me from my thoughts.

"Crap," I said. "I'll be there in a second." Then, I met Lola's gaze and lowered my voice to a whisper. "I'm not telling him."

She opened her mouth, but before she could say another word, I turned and headed into the kitchen. Carter stood at the stove, scraping the spatula across a smoking pan.

"What are you doing?" I flipped the vent fan on and took over the cooking. "You're gonna set off the smoke alarm."

"You're the one that left the stove unattended," Carter replied. I don't even cook. Why did he leave me in charge?

"Yeah, but there wasn't anything in the pan when I left." I shooed him back to his spot at the island counter. As I scraped the burnt sandwich into the garbage, Lola came into the room, taking a seat on the stool next to Carter.

She drummed her manicured fingernails on the countertop, clicking them like she was typing on a typewriter. Even though I couldn't read her mind, I didn't need to. I could tell what she was thinking from the glare she gave me across the room.

Tell him, she mouthed the words.

No, I mouthed back.

She scowled at me before putting on a fake smile. "I haven't been here in years." She looked to Carter. "How's Cathy?"

"At college," he replied. "Don't you talk to her?"

Lola shrugged. "Not really."

She looks nice. I know I tried to get Jay to ask her out, but damn, I didn't think he actually would. She's way out of his league.

My face burned as blood rushed to it, and the biggest shit eating grin stretched across Lola's features. She glanced between me and Carter like a shark trying to decide which fish to devour first.

"Carter, do you want more coffee?" I asked, interrupting his train of thoughts before he could think anything else embarrassing.

"Yeah, sure." He passed his mug across the counter towards me like an air hockey puck, but I caught it before it flew off the end.

"I'd take some too," Lola said.

I nodded and grabbed another mug from the cupboard. "Do you want cream or sugar, Lola?"

"Just black is fine," she replied.

"You didn't ask me if I did," Carter whined.

"She's prettier than you are." I shrugged as I poured them each a cup of black coffee.

After I finished making the third grilled cheese and scrambling the eggs, I served the food and sat at the last stool at the island counter.

"So Carter," Lola said as she took a bite of grilled cheese. "I've got to get to a football game this afternoon—that cheering won't lead itself, you know—so we don't have much time to waste." She dipped her grilled cheese in ketchup and took another bite. "Let's cut to it, shall we?"

She looked at me. "Jay has something he wants to tell you."