Page 44 of Faun Over Me

“By letting me work here,” Avery intoned. It made sense. Her dad was conniving and opportunistic. He was always looking for the next connection or means to get ahead of everybody else. She’d witnessed him bribing members of their church to get a better pew and had heard him imply knowledge of teachers’ private lives to bump up her brother’s grades. He was a successful lobbyist, and Avery had been all too willing to believe he was a good father, a good man. All too willing to forgive the bribery and the lies, but she had never considered fraud. Or that he would use his conniving, opportunistic nature against his own daughter.

“Come on.” Cricket guided her across the garden. “Let’s get you showered and back to your cabin.”

“Not so fast,” Ramble filled the top step, hands on their hips. “You are coming with me, Crick.”

Cricket stiffened, the easy roll to their step faltering and ceasing altogether. “Where?”

“Home.”

“What?” Her arm tightened around Avery’s shoulders, ears shooting upright. “No way, I’m staying here with Avery.”

“Not a chance,” the other faun shook her head. “Mac has investors coming, and we need to stop the family from freaking out.”

“What do those two things have to do with one another?”

“That thing is still out there.” Mac joined her wife on the porch, looping an arm around their waist. She raked her free hand through her hair, and Avery finally clocked how tired she looked. Still in her filthy clothes, she leaned against her wife as though Ramble were the only thing keeping her upright. “I’ve got the local inhumans watching the perimeter. That thing showed up with you—”

“It chased me. It’s not my fault!”

“And I have to make sure everything is running at peak performance before these investors show up,” Mac returned with a glare at Cricket. “Tonight.”

“Wait, what?” Avery jolted. “The Lunar Asset dinner is tonight?”

“Your father’s associate called yesterday to set it up,” Mac explained. “Which is why I was looking for you in the first place. We need to assure the campers that everything is fine, and then I need you focused. This might be my last chance to secure any reasonable funding in time to schedule construction before next summer.”

“And you need to go home and put the family’s mind at ease,” Ramble added. Cricket’s grip tightened even more on her shoulder. Avery winced, grunting lightly, and Ramble’s attention zeroed in on their cousin’s hand on her shoulder. The possessive hold. Their expression softened as they descended a stair. “You can come back; whenever this thing goes away, you can come back. I will come to talk to your parents about letting you stay here for the rest of the summer, but right now, it is best that you go home.”

“She’s right, Cricket,” Avery whispered. Cricket’s face jerked toward her, pain and betrayal pulling her mouth into a frown. “You’ve been here for a while; maybe they need to hear you say this place is safe. That the people of Elkwater and Elkins are open to integration.” She twisted to face her, gripping Cricket’s elbow. “Tell them about the sasquatch working at Meander’s, and the Mothman bartender. The gnomish mechanic at the gas station.”

“They need to hear it from more than me, Crick,” said Ramble. “Say your goodbyes, and we will go.”

The goodbye was terrible. Cricket was sullen and avoiding eye contact, pulling away when Avery needed her most. She needed Cricket’s pragmaticism to help her process her guilt. She’d heard those howls, heard them and ignored them for the sake of pleasure, sleeping peacefully beside Cricket while a monster ravaged the camp. She needed Cricket’s strength to help her process everything she had learned—that Director Murray was married to a faun, to Cricket’s cousin. That her dad was conceivably, probably, almost certainly defrauding his own daughter to buy up land in Green Bank.

But most of all, she just needed Cricket, and all she got was a quick press of lips against her temple. A gesture of defeat when Avery wanted passion.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered into one of those lovely ears, leaning into Cricket’s body as if she could keep her there by will alone.

“I don’t want to go,” she replied. Her arms tightened around Avery for a heartbeat, and then the faun stepped away. “I’ll—” She pressed her lips together, a determined expression hardening her features. “I’ll come back. I’m just a few ridges away. Once this all blows over, I’ll come back.”

And then she left, following her cousin out the door without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

“Come on, Avery,” Director Murray said after a long moment. “There’s work to be done.”

She followed her boss through the camp, trying hard to avoid the curious stares and heavy silence. Mac, showered and changed into clean clothes, nodded and waved at the campers, quietly assuring everyone that Avery was fine, the camp was safe, and nothing was being canceled or postponed. It struck her as odd until they rounded the counselor’s office, and she saw her cabin at the very end of the row.

The door hung on one hinge, scored with claw marks, the frame was less than splintered wood, and the tattered remains of curtains lay crumpled in the grass. Avery halted, hands flying to her face as she took in the damage. A stair was shredded to splinters, and churned earth surrounded the cabin as though a herd of beasts had attempted to dig their way in.

“Aksel identified your blood on the floor,” Mac said in a low voice, pressing her hand between Avery’s shoulder blades. The earth stopped tilting to the side, and only then did she realize she’d been about to fall over. “We saw the destruction and assumed the worst. Didn’t you hear … ?”

“No,” she mouthed, shaking her head. “It chased me the other night. Caught my leg.” Her hand fell to her side, lightly gesturing to the gauze wrapped around her calf. She’d worn her bike shorts for the brief walk, relishing the warmth of the summer sun on her legs. Now, guilt poisoned the fleeting joy as she recognized the weight behind Director Murray’s reassuring words to the campers, the curious looks and relieved smiles from her counselors.

They had been up all night searching for Avery. Howls had sounded in the woods, her blood on the floor. It was all too easy to understand how Mac had jumped to the conclusion that she had.

“It scratched me,” Avery said in a flat tone. “It tore my skirt and scratched my leg. Cricket, she … she patched me up.” Mac sighed, rubbing soothing circles into Avery’s back. “I didn’t realize I’d bled on the floor.”

“It wasn’t a lot, a few soiled rags”—Avery flinched. She had left the towels and cotton balls Cricket had used in the trash. Was that what attracted the monster? The scent of her blood?—“some drops on the throw rug, but you know Aksel. He’s got a good nose.”

To say Aksel “had a good nose” was selling the wolven marching band instructor short. He was singularly responsible for their middle-grade campers showering on a regular schedule, claiming the first waft of their stink was an affront to his senses.

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