and there was no crackle of his thoughts in the air, no psychic sign that he was there at all.
“Sorry to run off on you like that,” she said, and her thoughts turned her words into a lie, because she wasn’t sorry; she wasn’t sorry at all. She was doing her best not to think about how worried she was, but she was out of practice, and all she was doing was throwing her fear at me, over and over again, like a series of stones. “I wanted to get Artie someplace secure.”
Annie and Sam were on the other side of the room, sitting on the industrial-green couch. Sam had his tail wrapped around Annie’s waist. Elsie was standing next to Evie, one of Artie’s hands clutched in hers. Kevin was at the head of the bed, fussing with the machines hooked to the frame.
Those machines would be hooked to Artie if he didn’t wake up soon. Machines to make sure he kept breathing; machines to make sure he had all the fluid and nutrition he needed. All because I’d come home—and he’d come to the warehouse to meet me. All because I was here.
“Did he crack his skull?” I moved to the head of the bed, shoving myself in next to Kevin. They had already sutured Artie’s cheek, stitching it up with a series of quick, tidy lines. Between that and my blood, he might not even scar. That would be good. People don’t like it when they scar.
“There’s nothing physically wrong enough to be keeping him unconscious,” said Evie. “He’s taken worse hits running around the yard. I’m not sure what’s going on. It could just be shock. He’ll probably wake up soon.”
She didn’t sound like she believed it because she didn’t believe it. Her thoughts were a tangle of fears and concerns, none of them fully formed, all of them centered on the idea that if Artie had just been knocked unconscious, as I had been, he would have woken up already. Something was genuinely wrong.
“I don’t think he’s going to wake up on his own,” I said slowly. “And I don’t think . . . I don’t think it was an accident.”
The room grew tight with tension as everyone turned to look at me. I felt a flicker of unfamiliar thought behind me; James had arrived. That was probably good. It meant I’d only need to explain this once.
“There was another cuckoo at the airport,” I said, eyes on Evie. “A woman. She tried to attack me for trespassing on her territory.”
“I take it she didn’t succeed?” asked Evie.
“I mean, she did attack me,” I said. “She just didn’t win.” Technically, I’d attacked her, turning her ambush around on itself. That was just semantics. She had come into that bathroom intending to do me harm, and that made everything I’d done a matter of self-defense.
“What’s a cuckoo?” asked James.
“I’ll explain later,” said Annie.
A feeling of growing horror slithered through the air, as venomous as any snake. I turned. Sam was looking at me. The horror was coming from him. I sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. This was a complication I hadn’t been expecting in my sister’s house, and one I certainly didn’t need right now.
“Sam knows,” I said.
“I’ve never heard them called ‘cuckoos’ before,” he said, eyes still on me. “But she’s pale and dark-haired and that cut on her forehead isn’t bleeding when it should be. She’s a Johrlac. I thought they were a myth. Something people made up to scare little carnie kids into staying away from weirdoes on the midway. She’s real. They’re real, and one of them is in your house, and I think maybe we should all be running away now.”
“Evie?” I said plaintively.
“Sam, Sarah has always been a Johrlac—a cuckoo—and so is my mother, and she’s a part of this family. No one’s running anywhere.” Evie’s voice was calm, level, and left no room for argument. “We can explain more later, once Artie’s awake. Sarah, why don’t you think Artie will wake up on his own?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense for a cuckoo to attack me in the airport, and then for us to have an accident like that,” I said. “The truck came out of nowhere—I didn’t hear the driver’s thoughts before they hit us. How does that make sense? Our headlights were on. If they’d been drunk, they would have been louder than usual, not quieter. I think the cuckoo I beat up decided she wanted to get back