Infinity Chronicles of Nick

CHAPTER 6

They tried for several hours to reach Madaug but he wouldn't answer the number he'd left.

Flippin 'figures ...

Nick watched as Mark hung up the phone again before he spoke. "I'm telling you, Fingerman, he was eaten by the jocks. They could smell him from the few minutes he was here and they were hell-bent to get him. I think they ran him down and had a banquet."

Mark smirked. "Zombies have dulled senses, Nick. They're not bloodhounds or werewolves. You don't move, and they'll walk right past you, never seeing you. Believe me, on the scale of scary monsters, they rank way down the 'crap in my pants 'cause they're after me'

list. I'll take a zombie over a vampire or werewolf any day."

"What about the duck urine then?" Nick reminded him.

"I was sweating in a swamp and the wind carried my scent. That's different. Their senses are dulled, not nonexistent."

Nick started to argue the point, but really... wasn't whether or not a zombie could smell you the most ludicrous thing on the planet to fight about? Werewolves weren't real and he still wasn't completely sold on the whole zombie thing either.

Something was up with the jocks, no doubt, but he didn't believe in the supernatural. He never had. It was bunk made up by moms to scare kids, and Hollywood to make a profit. The true monsters in this world, the people like his dad, were real and human through and through. Which was what made them so dangerous.

You didn't see them coming until it was too late.

Bubba, who'd been ignoring them, stood up from his stool to tower over both of them. He pointed to the clock over the door. "It's four o'clock, guys. I'm going up to watch Oprah. Unless the shop catches fire or we're under massive zombie invasion, I don't exist for the next hour." He took a step, then paused. "On second thought, don't even bother me if it's zombies—I'll deal with them later. Today's a special episode on how to make peace with people who piss you off. And I definitely need to find my Zen."

Mark snorted. "Your Zen's shooting stuff, Bubba. Embrace your inner violence."

"Fine, then. My inner violence says I'll cut your throat if you bother me until Oprah ends, so sod off."

Nick laughed until the time sank in. "Ah, man, I gotta run."

Mark furrowed his brow. "For what?"

"My new boss was supposed to pick me up after school." Which was thirty-five minutes ago and he'd forgotten all about it. "Ah, geez ... hope I'm not fired my first day."

Bubba hesitated. "Want me to write you an excuse?"

Nick shook his head. "Nah. I better run. See you guys later. Let me know when you find Madaug." Grabbing his backpack from the floor, he hit the door at full speed.

Luckily he was used to running for streetcars, and his school was only five blocks away.

Something he made in record time.

There was still police tape cordoning off the front yard of the school and a couple of officers there to enforce it. They watched him closely as if expecting him to start biting on them or something.

Ignoring them, Nick slowed as he studied the cars that were lined up on the opposite side of the street. Only one had someone in it, and it wasn't Kyrian. / am so fired.... Crap.

My mom w'll kill me. More than that, he'd probably have to pay the hospital bill—which at last check had already added up to more than his first two years of college tuition combined

—out of his own pocket.

Why couldn't Alan have shot him in the head and ended it all?

/ was cursed from birth. Couldn't he ever catch a break with anything? Disgusted, he hung his head and started back toward Bubba's store.

"Nick Gautier?"

He turned at the unfamiliar voice to find the man he'd seen sitting in the black BMW, now stepping out of it. He was probably mid to late thirties. With dark blond hair and extremely clean cut (in other words he stank of serious money), he reminded Nick of someone, but he couldn't quite place it. "I don't know you."

The man smiled. "No, you don't. My son, Kyi Poitiers"—gah, he said that name like a true snotty blue blood: "Pwa-tee-aa"—"is one of your classmates. Kyrian asked me to pick you up after school and take you to his house. So here I am."

Yeah, right... "How do I know any of that's true?" Other than the fact that he did look like Kyi, which was why he'd seemed familiar. That still didn't make him safe or friendly.

"You don't trust me?" Mr. Poitiers asked.

"I don't trust nobody. My mama ain't raised no fools. I don't get in cars with people I don't know. Ever. You could be a pervert or psycho or something. No offense."

Mr. Poitiers laughed. "None taken. Tell you what..." He pulled out his wallet. "I'm going to give you fifty dollars for a taxi and write down Kyrian's address. I'll see you at his house.

Nick hesitated. The offer did nothing to alleviate his suspicions. "How do I know you're sending me to his house and not someone else's? For all I know that's the address where you take all your victims."

"God, I hope my son's as streetwise as you are." He pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. After a few seconds, he spoke. "Hey, Kyrian. Sorry to bother you. I'm here with the kid, but he won't get in the car with me. He's even more suspicious than you told me he'd be."

He held the phone out to Nick.

Nick narrowed his eyes on the man as he placed the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Hi, Nick. Phil won't hurt you. Get in the car and you'll be over here in a few minutes."

Uh-huh. Nick still wasn't sold. The voice was familiar, but... "How do I know you're Mr.

Hunter?"

"Because I'm the only person, besides you, who knows you were helping your friends mug those tourists when you changed your mind and saved them."

Nick's stomach hit the ground at those words. He hadn't breathed a word of that to a single soul. Not even his priests. That was a secret that was supposed to be between him and God and no one else. "How did you know that?"

"I was there longer than you suspected and I saw everything. Now get in the car."

Nick hung up the phone and handed it back to Mr. Poitiers. "Okay, I believe you." He held the money out to him too.

Phil refused to take it. "Keep it."

Nick shook his head. "I really can't take this."

"Yes, you can. Just consider it a reward for being a smart kid."

Unused to people not being angry at him, Nick was still reluctant to accept the money.

"You're not mad at me?"

"For protecting yourself? Not at all. I tell Kyi all the time to behave just like you did. It does me proud to see a kid with a brain. Now get in."

Nick hesitated. How weird for someone like Phil to not look down on him. It felt really weird.

He got into the car and buckled himself in.

Phil pulled away from the curb then turned his radio down so that he could talk. "I should have brought Kyi with me to ease your mind."

"It wouldn't have eased it. My mom says pervs use other kids to lure vies too." Not to mention Kyi didn't exactly travel in Nick's circle of friends. He was a stuck-up snot who annoyed him almost as much as Stone did.

That being said, his father seemed to be decent enough in spite of his perfect speech.

Made him wonder where Kyi got it from.

They didn't say anything else as Phil navigated traffic. It didn't take them long to reach Kyrian's house that was down in the Garden District. This was the coveted highbrow area where antebellum mansions went on row after row like hulking beasts from a bygone era of gentility and manners that most people nowadays lacked.

Nick and his mom would sometimes come walking down this way... mostly 'cause his mom's favorite author lived here and she wanted to catch a glimpse of her whenever she could.

His jaw went slack as they pulled up to a gate that opened into what had to be the biggest house he'd ever seen. It was a huge Grecian-style home with Doric columns supporting what seemed to be a never-ending porch. Top and bottom.

Phil pulled around the circular drive until he got to the front steps. "We're here." But he didn't turn off the engine.

Nick frowned. "Are you staying?"

"My orders were to deliver you to the door. Mission accomplished."

Weird, but okay...

Nick had no idea why he was so intimidated, but something about the house seemed eerie and forbidding. It wasn't like he hadn't known Kyrian had money, but knowing something and seeing such obvious proof were two different things.

What in the world would it be like to have this kind of wealth?

For that matter, he couldn't even imagine not having to count pennies to eat at McDonald's.

Gathering his courage, he got out of the car, grabbed his backpack, and headed up the stairs to the front door. Made of mahogany and etched glass that reminded him of cut crystal goblets, it looked like something out of a movie. He lifted his hand to ring the bell, but the door opened to show him a tiny Hispanic woman who eyed him like a warden greeting a new inmate. Dressed in a coral shirt and jeans, she had her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun.

"Nick?" It sounded more like "Neek," which was a much prettier version than the normal drawl he was used to.

"Yes, ma'am."

She stepped back to let him enter. "Mr. Kyrian is waiting for you upstairs in his office." She reached for his backpack.

Nick shied away from her.

"You no trust me?" Her tone was offended.

"No disrespect meant to you, ma'am, but I don't even know your name."

Her face went completely stoic. "I am Rosa and I keep Mr.

Kyrian's house for him. Nowwould you like me to put your bag away while you're here?"

He felt foolish for not letting her have it. It just wasn't in him to let anyone take anything from him without a fight no matter how worthless it was. It was the same reason he hadn't wanted Brynna touching it earlier. "I guess." He shrugged it off.

She umphed as he surrendered the full weight of it. "Goodness, you're much stronger than you appear. How you carry this without being hunchback?"

Nick shrugged. "It's what I have to have for school."

She gestured at the mahogany staircase that curved up to the second floor. "Third door on the right. No need to knock. He will hear you coming."

Yeah, okay, that was creepy too.

Nick headed up, taking his time to scan every inch of the impeccable palace. The banister had what he was pretty sure were gold medallions in the center of the black iron railing and the polished floors were some kind of something really expensive—like marble or tile or...

whatever. Part of him wanted to run back to the street.

/ so don t belong here.

He felt like a fraud or unworthy. Until he realized what really made him so uncomfortable.

There was no daylight....

Every window in the house was covered with shutters and heavy drapes. Every single one. Not so much as a tendril of sunlight came in. How weird was that? His mother was always yelling at him for burning electricity in the daytime.

Stop shaming the daylight, boy. Turn out the lights. Have you any idea howmuch money you're wasting?

Pushing it out of his mind, he reached the door Rosa had mentioned and opened it.

Kyrian satin front of a computer with a headset covering one ear. "Talon, I hear what you're saying. I'm just not listening to it. Look, the kid's here. I'll talk to you later." He hung up the phone and pulled the headset off before placing it on his desk.

"Talon?" Nick asked.

Kyrian smiled without showing his teeth—another peculiar habit Nick had noticed about him even back when he'd come to the hospital. "A friend I'm sure you'll eventually meet." He inclined his head toward Nick's sling. "How are you feeling?"

"Cranky. Pain meds wore off and it hurts like a mother."

Kyrian ignored his curt tone and semi-profanity. "Heard you had some problems at your school today."

"I didn't have no problems at school 'cause they wouldn't let me on campus. Makes it a great day if you ask me."

Kyrian rolled his eyes, but didn't comment on Nick's irritable tone. "Have you called your mom?"

"No. Why?"

"Don't you think she might have heard about the attacks at school and been worried?" "I don't see how."

"Nick ... She's your mother. She's going to be worried. Honestly, you have no idea how much your parents love you until something happens to you—then it's too late." There was a note in Kyrian's voice that Nick couldn't quite define. Something like buried pain from a bitter memory that still bothered him....

But that didn't matter. Nick wasn't being stupid or disrespectful. "I know she'd be worried if she knew about it but I know she hasn't heard anything. We don't have TV or anything. Heck, we don't even have a phone. You have to call Menyara and she takes messages to us."

The shock on Kyrian's face set his temper on fire.

"We don't need your pity," Nick growled. "We get along just fine without it and them other things too. You don't need electronic crap to live. You know, people lived for thousands of years without it. There's a big difference between stuff you want and stuff you need."

Kyrian held his hands up in surrender. "Settle down, Nick. I don't feel sorry for you. I didn't have any of that when I was a kid either and believe me, I know how people used to live."

Nick looked around the expensive furnishings that belied those words. It was hard to imagine Kyrian having ever done without anything. "You've come a long way, huh?"

"In some ways ..."

"And in others?"

Kyrian shrugged. "Let me put it to you this way... money doesn't solve your problems. It just brings new ones to your door."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning I hope you never know the betrayals I've had. My father once told me that no friend would ever be loyal to me because of what I had and who I was."

Nick's dad had told him basically the same thing. Trust no one at his back, 'cause all people did was betray. And that they usually laughed while they did it.

But he didn't want to be so jaded. "Was he right?"

"Absolutely not. There was one friend I had who was loyal. But when he died, it left me with others who more than proved my father a wise man. I know it's hard to listen at your age.

The gods know I never did, but—"

"The gods?"

Kyrian chuckled, again without showing his teeth. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm a little ec-centric sometimes." "Is that why all the windows are closed?"

Kyrian arched a brow. "You're observant. Impressive. Most people don't catch that."

"Yeah, well, few things escape me. I tend to watch silently from the shadows. You learn a lot more that way."

"I'll keep that in mind then." Kyrian stepped from around his desk and handed him the phone. "Go ahead and send a message to your mom. In the event she's heard about your school, I don't want her to worry."

Nick screwed his face up. "Boy, with that kind of uberconsideration, your parents must really love you." Mr. Goody Two-shoes.

Kyrian hesitated before he responded. "My parents died a long time ago. And you know the sad thing? I still miss them everyday. I spent my entire youth fighting with my dad over every little thing and damned if I wouldn't sell my soul to see him one more time and tell him I was sorry for the last words I said to him. Words I can never take back that should have never been said. So call your mom. No matter what kind of relationship you have with your parents, I swear to you, you'll miss them when they're gone."

Nick wasn't so sure about that. He barely knew his dad. His mom was another subject though—he would never intentionally hurt her. Dialing Aunt Mennie's number, he put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Mennie's Creole accent was thicker than normal.

"Hey, Aunt Men, it's Nick. Can you—"

"Boy? Where you been? Your poor mama done sick with worry over you. She's sitting right here, right now, all tore up and crying. She ain't slept or had a minute's peace since this morning when she heard about your school. Shame on you for worrying her like this. We went to the school and everything looking for you and couldn't find a trace of you anywhere. No one would tell her anything and there you sit all nice and fine. Shame on you, boy! Shame on you."

Nick felt like the lowest form of dog spittle as his mom took the phone. It wasn't like Menyara to fuss at him for anything. She usually left it to his mom to do. That more than anything told him how worried his mom was.

"Baby Boo?" Those words wrung his gut. It was his childhood nickname that she seldom used anymore. "You all right?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'm good. I'm really sorry I didn't call. I—I just didn't think you'd hear about it."

"It's okay, Boo. I'm just glad you're all right. It's so good to hear your voice. The police wouldn't tell me nothing about the victims. They said they hadn't notified the families so I was waiting for them to come to my door and ..." She broke off into sobs.

Nick cringed until he was sick. "I didn't mean to scare you, Mom."

"It's okay. It's all good. You're safe and that's all that matters to me. Where are you?"

He looked at Kyrian, who was giving him an "I told you so" glare. "I'm at Mr. Hunter's now.

I was at Bubba's store, helping him out this morning since they canceled school. He said he'd pay me double time for it."

"But you're safe?"

"Yeah, I'm safe."

"Oh, thank God."

Kyrian took the phone from his hand. "Mrs. Gautier? It's Kyrian. I wanted to let you know that I'll feed Nick and have him home about seven if that's all right with you?" He paused to listen to her. "Yes, ma'am. I'll take good care of him and won't let anything happen to him.

Promise." He hung up the phone.

Nick scowled at him. "Why do you call her 'ma'am' when she's younger than you?" "It's a sign of respect."

That he didn't understand, but he was grateful for it. "Not many people have shown my mom the respect she deserves. I really appreciate it that you do."

Kyrian put the phone in his pocket. "I learned a long time ago not to judge people by what they look like, sound like, or by the clothes they wear. Just because a house is nice and shiny out front doesn't mean it's not rotting on the inside. Your mom's a good woman with a good heart and I'm glad you're mature enough to appreciate that about her."

Nick found a whole new respect for him. "You know? I think I can work for you."

Kyrian gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Glad to hear it. Now shall I show you around?"

He liked the formal way Kyrian spoke sometimes. He went back and forth from typical slang to some old-world expressions that were tinged with an accent Nick couldn't place. "You shall indeed."

Kyrian rubbed his eyes at Nick's bad English accent. "Your duties here will be light. Nothing too strenuous, and if anything aggravates your arm until it heals, don't do it. Last thing you need is to set your therapy back."

Nick followed him to the staircase. "Why are you doing this, anyway? You know what I was into that night and yet you'd let me in here around all your stuff? Aren't you afraid I'll steal something?"

Kyrian turned around on the stairs to give him a harsh glare. "There's nothing you can steal from me that I can't replace. Things mean very little to me." He took a step closer to Nick.

"As for why I'm helping you ... I believe in you, Nick. You remind me of a kid I knew once.

Hardheaded to the point no one could stand him. He wouldn't listen and had a massive chip on his shoulder because he wanted to show the world how tough he was—that he didn't need anyone hand-holding him through life, or doing anything for him. Everything had to be learned by his own hand ... the hard way." "What happened to him?"

"He rebelliously joined the army against his father's wishes and met a man who changed his life. For whatever reason, that man had patience. And where others would have justifiably killed the arrogant snotnose for his attitude, his commanding officer saw potential in him. He changed that kid's life and I'd like to pay that debt forward with you."

It took Nick a second to realize what exactly he was saying. "You're the kid?"

Kyrian inclined his head.

"And this dude who changed your life?"

He looked down at the ring on his hand that rested on the shiny banister. "A man named Julian."

Nick shivered at such a god-awful moniker. "Isn't Julian a girl's name?"

One corner of Kyrian's mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. "Trust me, Nick. He was the toughest SOB you've ever met on a battlefield. No one ever defeated him in a fight. He made Jackie Chan and Chuck Norris look like poseurs."

"Is that how you learned to fight like you did when you saved me?"

"Yes."

Nick had to give him credit. Kyrian could definitely handle himself. It was something he'd love to have. "Could you teach me some of that?"

"When your arm's better. For now, I promised your mom I wouldn't tax your strength." Nick growled. "Yeah, but—"

"No buts. Today is only an introduction. I want you to get the lay of the land. Rosa is your direct supervisor. Whatever she says goes. Since I usually work at night, she'll be the one you deal with most when you're here." He turned around and descended the stairs again.

Nick skipped down behind him. "So how many people work for you?"

"Just Rosa and George the groundskeeper.... And now you."

"What about Mr. Poitiers?"

"He's a friend. I have many who do favors for me from time to time."

Nick could respect that. "Must be good to be king."

A flicker of sadness flashed across Kyrian's face before he hid it. "Why don't I show you to your office first?"

That announcement stunned Nick. "I have an office?"

"Yes." Kyrian led him to a room off the kitchen that was bigger than Nick's entire condo.

Shelves of books lined the walls. And there were two desks and computers in it, along with nice black leather office chairs. It was an impressive layout. "Rosa has the bigger desk. Yours is there."

Nick walked over to it with his jaw slack as he ran his hand across the top of it. Made of rich cherry wood, it was pristine and beautiful. But it was the large monitor on the desk that really made him smile. "I have my own computer?"

"Yes, and you can do homework on it if you need to. It's hooked online so ..."

Nick's eyes widened even more. "It's online and everything?

"Yes. There'll be times when I'll need you to get information or order things online for me."

"Really?" "Really."

Nick didn't know what to say. This was more than he'd ever imagined. When Kyrian had offered the job, he'd figured it was walking the dog, cleaning toilets, or something equally as crappy. Not in his wildest dreams had he thought he'd have his own desk or computer.

In fact, Rosa had already put his backpack there. It made him feel like an adult with a real desk job.

Most of all, it made him feel respectable.

Lifting his head high, he met Kyrian's gaze. "So how much money will I be making?"

"Since you're only part time, we'll start you out at a thousand a week."

Nick about choked on the amount. A thousand what? Lira? Yen? Rubles? "Excuse me?"

"That's before taxes, of course. And we do have work performance bonuses so you can increase that if you need more. I believe in rewarding hard work and—"

Nick held his hand up to stop him right there. "Go back to make sure I heard what you said. A thousand a week?"

"Yes."

"A thousand American dollars a week?" "Yes."

"Not Monopoly money or anything?"

Kyrian gave him an irritated glare. "No, Nick. Real, hard cash, and you'll have your own credit card too."

Nick couldn't believe it. He was still aghast over the amount, never mind the other stuff.

"And I don't have to do nothing illegal or perverted?"

"You just have to watch your tone, especially to Rosa."

Well, dang. That made him wonder one thing.... "How much you paying her if she's full time?"

Kyrian laughed. "A lot more than I'm paying you, but it's not enough to put up with your smart mouth. So if you want to keep this job, you'll have to show her respect."

"Don't worry. I don't mouth off to women." But that rule didn't apply to men or really to anyone who tried to push him around.

However, Nick did have one major concern. "Urn, how much will you be deducting out of that for the hospital bills?"

"You keep your grades up, your attitude in check, and show up for work on time for six months and we'll forget about it."

If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. And though he was young, he hadn't been born yesterday. "I don't know about that. My mama says we don't take charity from people. We pay our own way."

"Nick ..." Kyrian's voice was strained. "Look around. I'm not going to miss it. You were headed the wrong way down the street, when, for whatever reason, you made a right turn. No one made you do it. You did it by yourself. My goal is to keep you on the right path. And I know that desperate people do desperate things, so this job will help eliminate some of that temptation. You're a good kid and you deserve a break, which I'm sure life hasn't given you much of."

It was true. Life had pretty much battered him and his mom from the moment he'd been born. "Yeah, but that's a lot of money to be paying a kid fordoing basically nothing."

"You won't be doing nothing. You'll be part of a vital support staff I rely on to do my job.

Not to mention, you keep your grades up and that's nothing compared to what you can make working for me when you're grown."

Still, Nick was skeptical. "And I don't have to strip naked?"

"Oh God, no. Please keep your clothes on. Neither Rosa nor I need to go blind. There's a pool in back though, that you're free to use whenever you like. However, I would encourage you to always have trunks on when you swim. Last thing I need is for my neighbors to start complaining or George to quit." Kyrian moved over to a small box on Nick's desk and picked it up to hand it to him. "By the way, this is for you." "What is it?"

"Cell phone so that I can contact you when I need you."

Nick couldn't believe it. "No friggin' way."

"Part of the perks of the job. But don't abuse your minutes or texts. I get a ten-thousand-dollar bill in one month and I will choke you for it." Kyrian turned it on and handed it to him.

"It's already hooked up and the number for it is on the card. Make sure your mom has it too. I programmed my number into the auto dial under two. Just press and hold it."

Nick was overwhelmed by the generosity. He didn't know what to say. "This is just so cool.

Thanks."

"You're welcome." Kyrian's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the ID

before he answered it.

"No, I've been up for a while. Why?" He frowned as he listened.

Nick played with his own phone. Man, this thing was really awesome.

"What do you mean there were more attacks?" That got Nick's attention. Was Kyrian talking about the zombie stuff?

"Yeah. I'll head out as soon as I can and I'll keep my eyes peeled for, and I cringe as I say this, things out of the ordinary for us." He listened a few more minutes before he hung up the phone.

"Is something wrong?" Nick asked.

Kyrian didn't exactly respond to the question. "Is there someone at your school with an ax to grind against football players?"

Had the man never gone to high school? "Depends on the football player. Why?" "There's been two more attacks." Nick was stunned.

"All of them were against football players. How many guys are on the team, anyway?"

Nick had to stop and think. "I'm not exactly sure since I don't play anymore. Probably around fifty total, counting JV and V."

"JV and V?"

He was surprised Kyrian didn't know what he was talking about. "Junior varsity and varsity."

"Ah ... Why don't you play anymore?"

Nick shrugged, as that brought up a memory he didn't like thinking about. He'd been really good at the game, but that hadn't saved him. "Got thrown off the first week I made the team for fighting when Stone mocked my shoes. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a people person."

Kyrian laughed. "I noticed. Look, I need to make a few more calls. Wander around the downstairs here and get acquainted with it. Don't get too tired. If you need anything to eat or drink, it's in the kitchen. Make yourself at home."

Nick waited until Kyrian left before he tried to call Madaug again on his new phone.

Still no answer.

Sighing, he had a bad feeling about this. If what Kyrian had said was right, they were down about a quarter of the team.

There wont be any state finals for us this year.

Stupid concern given everything going on, but it was the first thing that popped into his mind.

What he couldn't figure out was what had started it. Yeah, the jocks picked on certain people and now that they were becoming zombified, it would only get worse. Now they'd pick on everyone.

How could they stop this?

Aggravated with the lack of details, he made his way back to the kitchen, where Rosa was making something that smelled unbelievably good.

Licking his lips, he went to investigate the pot while Rosa chopped shrimp and onions on the cutting board. "What are you making?"

"Gumbo."

Nick's brows shot up at a dish that he'd eaten most of his life, but this didn't look anything like his mom's. "Huh ... so this is what rich man's gumbo looks like."

"How do you mean?"

"It ain't got leftovers in it and you're putting real meat into it and not bacon bits or roadkill."

Rosa laughed. "I'm sure you've never eaten roadkill."

He wouldn't bet on it. His mom might have denied it, but some of the meat she brought home ... he was sure it'd been scraped off the street. Maybe even plucked out of the tread on tires.

Rosa handed him a spoon. "Feel free to sample it."

"Really? Thanks." He dipped the spoon in and stepped away for it to cool before he took a bite. Man, it tasted even better than it smelled. His stomach growled so loud, it sounded like a monster was about to pop out.

Rosa turned to stare at him.

"Sorry. I didn't have lunch." Bubba hadn't given him permission to take money out of the till for it, and since school lunches came with his tuition, he didn't have money to buy lunch somewhere else.

Rosa's jaw went slack. "Why didn't you say something about being hungry?" She pulled him over to the island where two tall stools were set. "You have a seat and I'll make you a sandwich."

"I can wait for dinner. I'm used to it."

"No one goes hungry in this house, m'ijo. You just sit there while I make it."

This was seriously creeping him out. No one was ever this nice to him. Had he fallen into the Twilight Zone or something?

I'm going to die. It had to be an omen of doom. Yeah, I'm going to turn into a flesh-rotting, flesh-eating, no-dating-'cause-l-stink demon. His body parts, especially the really important one, were going to fall off like in that movie he'd seen....

And all because he'd helped an old couple escape his friends. Stop being stupid.

But it wasn't stupid. It was a fact. Something was wrong with the world. It'd skittered sideways and nothing was like it should be.

He was doomed. No if, ands, or buts about it. He was going to die.

And no sooner had that thought finished than he heard something scratching around the back door. There was a low growl and the rattle of a pretty large creature. Vicious and guttur-al, the sound reminded him of a dog cornering a cat. It must be a Rottweiler or something.

He frowned at Rosa, who'd frozen to stare at the door too. "What kind of dog does Kyrian have?"

She shook her head. "No dog."

"Then what—" His words ended as the back door flew open and two members of his team rushed in to tackle him.