The sound of Sam griping drifted around the side of the house.

  “So believe me,” Cindy said. “I get it. I’ve been through a hundred men, looking for the right one. Being what I am doesn’t help. Being what I am is probably the reason I’ve been through that many.”

  June thought of how Micha had always been so reasonable about how they probably weren’t right for each other, how they were merely a comfort to each other.

  “Sam and I are so different,” June said. “Like Micha and I were. I’m not the type of girl I could see Sam being with.”

  Cindy lowered her arm. “Sam’s an unconventional man. I don’t see him being with a conventional woman. He needs someone like you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s a little off the wall. A nonconformist is exactly his type.”

  June narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying? I’m some kind of gutter punk?”

  Cindy hauled herself to her feet. “Yes, you tattooed whore.”

  June grinned.

  The water was restored, and they turned on all the taps in the house to let the sludgy orange water run out of the unused pipes. Dipity ran as the house was filled with sputtering and popping.

  Sam shook his head. “I can’t believe we have a cat.”

  “I have a cat,” June said. “You’d better stay on my good side, or I’ll make her eat your face.”

  Natalie and Cindy stuck around until after dark, helping unpack bins and clean up. Sam raged every time he discovered they’d taken something from the house. At least his cars were still in the garage—albeit rifled through like everything else.

  “I’m bringing a professional cleaning company in,” he told them as Cindy and Natalie were getting ready to leave. “I’m not opening that fridge myself. And I don’t even know how you get six months’ worth of dust out of furniture.”

  “Rich boy’s never had to clean,” June said. “He only knows how to do this with his hands.” She did a mocking Queen of England wave.

  Sam jabbed her in the side, and she leaped away, grinning.

  “I like her.” Natalie smiled. “Are you coming to the beach party, June?”

  “Do I look like the kind of gal who misses a beach party?”

  Hugs and good-byes were exchanged, and Cindy cuddled Dipity one last time, whispering to her to be good and that she’d visit her soon. She left with tears in her eyes and the cat in June’s arms.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and get a shower?” Sam said. “My bathroom is wonderful. Then we can get some rest. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

  “Am I actually going to be allowed to rest?”

  He waved. “It depends. Can I do anything else with my hands?”

  Upstairs, she tried to pretend it was her first time seeing Sam’s room. He pushed bins into corners, muttering. He told her he would change the bedclothes so they weren’t sleeping in a tomb.

  His bathroom was indeed nice: big, white tile, a huge mirror, two sinks, and a massive tub as well as a glass shower. The room didn’t seem to have collected much grime during six months of disuse; that was the nice thing about smooth nonporous surfaces.

  She didn’t lock the door, and she expected him to come creeping in while she showered, but he didn’t. She was disappointed. He didn’t even need to get in the shower with her; he could perv at her through the glass.

  After she got out, she took her time drying off, brushing her hair, and going through some semblance of a beauty routine. Sam had all sorts of lotions and potions in a cabinet next to the sinks. She rolled her eyes at his collection of cologne, taking up one entire shelf. Men.

  She blow-dried her hair, something she hadn’t done in a while. Now that she’d actually had it colored and cut, she could bring herself to style it again.

  She pulled on an oversized black T-shirt from her bag and a pair of panties, and finally emerged into Sam’s bedroom.

  Sam sat on the bed, which now had different sheets and a red blanket on it. The scent of Febreeze hung on the air.

  He had his laptop on the bed in front of him. He looked up at her. “You should put some pants on.”

  She padded across the room, stroking her fingers through her dried, silky hair. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  She stopped next to the dresser and glanced at the pictures. “Why should I put pants on? Why don’t you take yours off?”

  He clicked around on the computer. “Please.”

  He was serious. She stood staring at him.

  He nodded to the bathroom. “Go get a pair of pants out of your bag, put them on, and then come here. I have something to show you. Just do it.”

  She huffed and walked back to the bathroom. She didn’t want to go outside. Or meet anybody. Those were the only two reasons she could imagine needing pants right now.

  She pulled a pair of black yoga pants out of her bag, yanked them on, and returned to the room. They were a little too long and hung over her feet.

  Sam patted the bed beside him. “Come here.”

  She walked over to the bed. “What, do you have bedbugs or something? You don’t want my ass getting bitten?” She flopped down on the bed.

  Sam picked up the laptop and turned to her. He plunked it in her lap.

  She was confused for a moment, but then she saw the screen. She clamped her hands over her mouth, her vision blurring with tears.

  “Oh my God.” Her mother did the same thing on the screen, clamping her hands over her mouth. “June, baby!”

  June wasn’t the type to burst into tears, but they spilled over and she drew a deep, shaky breath. Sam squeezed her shoulder.

  “Oh, God, it’s so good to see you again.” Her mother was crying too. “Are you all right?”

  June lowered her trembling hands, struggling for words. Her chest tightened and ached on the right side, like it always did when she got stressed out or emotional.

  “I’m okay,” June choked out. “Are you okay, Mom?”

  Her mother’s long, honey blond hair was pulled back, her face clean of makeup. She looked like Jason, with her high cheekbones and pale eyes. Contrarily, everyone else said she looked like an older version of June, but June didn’t see it. Right now, what she saw was the best thing she’d ever seen in her life.

  “I’m fine now.” Her mother wiped her eyes with a tissue. “I watched your press conference today. It was so good to see you up there, to see you alive. You’re so thin, though.”

  June swallowed the lump in her throat. Tears were still falling. “My allergies are making it hard to eat. Where are you? Are you in California?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been talking to the FBI. They said I couldn’t talk to you until you were no longer sequestered. This year has been so awful.” She touched the screen. “My baby. You’re alive.”

  June wiped her eyes. Sam handed her a wad of tissues.

  “Is your brother there with you? He wasn’t at the press conference.”

  June froze, tissues pressed to her face. She hadn’t prepared herself for this moment, hadn’t thought up a story yet. She couldn’t tell her Jason had been kidnapped by vampires. She’d already told the FBI he wasn’t in Chicago, and she’d told the masses he didn’t want to speak at the conference. She was going to get tangled up in her lies and hang herself.

  “He’s not here.” She lowered the tissues, sniffing. “We…um…”

  “The FBI kept them apart.” Sam leaned over in front of the screen. “They’re still questioning him, but they should be releasing him in a few days. All this red tape, it’s ridiculous.” He sat back.

  June swallowed. “Yes, but… He’s fine, Mom. We’re both fine.”

  Her mother broke down, crying into her hands. June cried, too, positively wept, like she hadn’t done in months. Sam slid an arm around her and rubbed her back.

  After a few minutes, they both composed themselves. June’s side hurt worse.

  “I’ve been searching for you since you disappeared,” her mother said. “I even sent Diego to find you last month, but I haven’t heard from him. I can’t get him on his phone. He’s not e-mailing or texting me…”

  June cleared her throat. “The FBI has him.”

  She blinked.

  “He found us,” June said. “But it was dangerous. We couldn’t let him contact you. The FBI is still questioning him and Jason.”

  She heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, thank God.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I was so worried something happened to him. He was my rock through this, you know. I wanted to come to Chicago so many times, but he told me to be reasonable. He kept saying if you were on the run, you’d probably come home, and I needed to be here to help you. I kept praying, hoping… I would have hidden you until the end of time. I kept waiting for you to reach out to me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Fresh tears formed in June’s eyes. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t get out of the city.”

  “Oh, baby, it’s not your fault.” She touched the screen again. “I know you’ve been through hell. I’m just so happy to see your face.”

  “It has. It’s been hell, but I’m here.”

  “Don’t you worry. I’m getting on a plane to Chicago tomorrow.”

  June froze again, widening her eyes.

  “They said you can’t leave there yet,” her mother said. “But they’ve got no restrictions on me, so I’m coming. I can’t wait to hold my baby girl in my arms again.”

  Her mother couldn’t come to Chicago. If Occam found out she was there, he’d snatch her too. She could envision Occam with a zoo full of her friends and family, taunting her, telling her the key to letting them out was saying yes.

  June glanced at Sam, panicked.

  He leaned over again. “Mrs. Coffin.”

  “Andrea.”

  “Andrea. I understand wanting to come, but you can’t, not just yet.”

  “Why?” Her voice sharpened.

  “Because we’re not sequestered anymore, but they don’t want us having too much contact with people outside the case. They don’t want to take any risks.”

  “So you mean after all this time, all we’ve been through, I still can’t come see my children?”

  “It won’t be that long, Mom.” June touched the keyboard, as if she could reach through it. “Just a little while longer. I promise we’re all going to be together soon. I’m coming home. Jason’s coming home.”

  Sam drew back.

  “Oh, this is hateful.” Her mother slapped her forehead. “But tonight might be the first time since January I’ve had a full night’s sleep.”

  “Me too,” June said softly.

  “Do you have a phone? Can I call you?”

  June went to the bathroom and retrieved her phone from her bag. Her hands were still shaking, the rest of her numb. She returned to the bed, turned the phone on, and found the number.

  “The idea you’re just a phone call away now.” Her mother’s eyes welled up again. “Oh, God, please don’t let this be a dream.”

  June wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Diego told me you’ve been paying rent on the shop. Mom, you don’t have the money to do that. Why?”

  Her mother had her own cell phone and punched June’s number in. “I couldn’t let you lose it. Letting it go would be like—like saying you were never coming home.”

  June shook her head and grabbed up the tissues again.

  “I got a loan. And Diego and the other guys were helping pay for it too. They’ve still been working. You wouldn’t believe all the reporters and looky-loos who come around that place. Always someone nosing around.” She placed the phone to her ear.

  “I would. It’s a circus here too.” June’s phone trilled in her lap. She saved her mother’s number.

  “It’s been worse lately,” her mother said. “Now that everyone knows the truth. Thank you, Mr. Haain, for all you’ve done for my children. I’m sorry you were persecuted.”

  “Sam,” Sam said. “And we’ve all helped each other, haven’t we June?”

  June nodded.

  “And you’re running for mayor, Sam?” Her mother’s penchant for gossip was still intact. “How do you think that’ll go? The whole city must be rooting for you.”

  June almost laughed. Chicago, root for a paranormal person?

  “I’m a politician by trade,” Sam said. “It’s in my blood. I’m already entrenched in the politics of this city. I have no doubt I’ll be welcomed back into that circle with open arms.”

  “If I were there I’d vote for you, based on the fact you saved my children alone. You’re a good man, Sam.”

  “Mom,” June said, “just stay put for right now, okay? Just until the FBI clears things. This is…a complicated situation.”

  Her mother sighed. “Knowing you’re all right is enough for now.” She peered closer at the screen. “But God, you’re so thin. Was it hard to get food?”

  “We had plenty of food. Like I said, my allergies are giving me a lot of trouble.” She fidgeted with her phone. “I think they’re getting worse. Maybe the stress.”

  “When you come home, I’m taking you back to that allergist. And to a nutritionist.”

  “There’s a doctor here. She’s got me on vitamins right now. I feel a little better.” She did, sort of.

  “Drink lots of water and get some protein in you. No salt. It’s bad for your heart.”

  She couldn’t have imagined she’d treasure the day her mother would be able to nag her again. “I will, Mom.”

  “Have Jason get in touch with me as soon as he’s allowed. I can’t wait to hear his voice too.”

  Though June wanted to stay on with her all night, Sam had limited data on the hotspot. They said good night and June promised to call first thing tomorrow.

  After Sam closed the laptop lid, she slumped against him and cried on his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she choked out. “I wasn’t ready for that, but I needed it.”

  He stroked her hair. Dipity found them, thumping onto the bed next to June’s leg. June reached out and petted her, sniffing.

  “I thought you deserved more than one nice thing today,” Sam said. “You’re on your way to having a normal life again.”

  She wiped at her face. “I’ll never be normal.”

  Sam reached out and petted Dipity as well. “Well, I guess it’s not so bad being different.”

  She had to rescue Jason and Diego before her mother found out the truth. Lying to her, after all she’d been through, made June’s stomach hurt worse than all the gluten in the universe.

  Chapter 7

  June awoke feeling sick, but that was nothing new. Usually, the queasiness subsided if she could get some food and water in her and keep it down. Every morning, she sank deeper into dread. How long until the debilitating pain? How long until she couldn’t eat at all? How long until she began to rot from the inside out?

  She tried to shake these thoughts as she stood over the bathroom sink, splashing water on her face and trying not to throw up the little bit of water she’d drunk.

  Stepping back, she nearly tripped over her duffel bag on the floor. She kicked it in frustration. Things fell out. She sighed.

  Cramming the items back in, she scowled at her box of tampons. She was due for that too. Soon she’d have cramps on top of everything else. Her morbid line of thinking helped her find the silver lining, though—if she dropped below a certain percentage of body fat, she wouldn’t have a period at all, like those female athletes.

  “Take that,” she muttered. “Point for me, Mother Nature.”

  Too bad she was playing a losing game.

  By noon, the house was full of people: cleaners, assistants, Sam’s friends, and members of his group. June retreated to the back patio, sunglasses on, and sat in a lounge chair, nibbling on an apple. Gardeners were crawling all over the grounds, trimming, mowing, digging.

  She’d already had a long phone conversation with her mother, carefully explaining the events of the past six months while omitting certain details. She hadn’t yet told her she and Sam were together, either.

  Sam eventually found her. “There you are. Hiding?”

  “I’m working on my tan.” She was well under the shade of the awning.

  “You should get naked for that.” He motioned in the house. “Come with me. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “I’m not a people person.”

  “I know, but I think you’ll find this person interesting.”

  She slipped her glasses down her nose. “Is it another cute assistant?”

  “No. Remember, I said I have a plan to find Occam and Robbie?”

  Now he had her attention. She got up and followed him inside.

  Sam led her through the house, past people vacuuming and scrubbing and dusting. He led her out onto the front porch, which was empty save for one person.

  A young man leaned against the porch railing. He had a heart-shaped face and collar length brown curls. As they walked over to him, something strange seemed to happen to his eyes, as though they caught the light and reflected it like a cat’s eyes. Maybe June had imagined it.

  “This is Anthony,” Sam said. “He’s been a member of my group for several years, but I hadn’t met him until today. Anthony, this is my girlfriend, June. She’s a Siren.”

  “June Coffin.” Recognition lit up Anthony’s features. “It’s nice to meet you.” His voice seemed strangely familiar and unaccountably unnerving.

  “Anthony has been so kind as to offer me his services,” Sam said. “He doesn’t do that very often.”

  June eyed Anthony. “And what are those?”

  “Anthony is a precognitive. Institute research claims he doesn’t exist, by the way.”

  June blinked a few times. “A pre….what?”

  “Precognitive,” Anthony said. “In the very simplest colloquial phraseology, I can see the future.”