Page 2 of Demon Found

It hits me. I know exactly who’s behind this mess. Frank. My lazy good-for-nothing asshole of a foster carer. He’s gotten hold of my mail.

My legs are moving, pumping, sending me in the direction of the house before I have a chance to think.

Chapter Two: Lorelei

Onewild-eyedstarearoundthe backyard shows he’s not in his usual beat-up deck chair.

“Frank! Where the hell are you, you good-for-nothing—”

The swing door opens, and he stumbles out. His eyes are bleary, and the wife-beater tank he has on is covered in day-old stains. My words die in my throat.

“The fuck you want, Shhhkinny?” The twitch in his hand gives away the fact he’s not just drunk, he’s coming down, again. Hellfire. Normally I’d give him a wide damn berth when he’s on a downer, but I don’t have time for that today.

Pulling my shoulders back, I take a deep breath. “You have something of mine, Frank. I want it back.”

“Your foster allowance? Spent it.” He gives a cold laugh “Seriously, Skinny, not a good time. Piss off.”

Not a good time? Not a good time?! I just found out I’ve missed out on my one chance to escape this nightmare andhe’shaving a bad day?

“I want my mail, Frank. I want to know why you kept it!”

His whole face takes on a sly smirk.

“You was about to turn eighteen. No use to me after you’re out the care system. Don’t get paid for no eighteen-year-olds.”

“So why not just let me live my life? Why stop me?” I poke my finger in his ugly broad face.

Like lightning, he grabs my hand, twisting it until I squeal and my knees buckle. He lets out a satisfied grunt and shoves me away. I stumble backward, and he stands, watching, with a sneer painted across his mouth.

“See, there’s this new scheme, Skinny.” He rubs a hand across his stubble. “I sign you up to an apprenticeship program and still get me money, right ’til you’re twenty-one.”

I hold my breath.I won’t scream at him. I won’t.But dammit, it’s not his money. It’s money he’s meant to spend on us foster kids, not that we ever see a dime.

“Las Ratas, see, they got a new ’prenticship program. They’ll house you, feed you . . . All I had to do was sign you up. I can get a new foster kid too, double me money. So, Skinny, I couldn’t let you get away from me.”

Dread pools in the pit of my stomach. Las Ratas? Shit.

“Don’t I get a say?”

“Foster lady says you don’t. I’m your legal guardian, and if I get you an apprenticeship, then I stay that way ’til you exit the program. Only thing that trumped it was an academy place. So”—he shrugs—“I took care of your letter from those posh assholes at the academy and made sure you wasn’t present at any of them genus emergence days in school. Simple.”

My hands ball into fists and my muscles tense. Frank takes a step back, eyeing me.

His scrappy little mongrel shoots out the house and barrels its way between us, yapping frenetically. I swear Dog lives on testosterone and adrenaline. It’s not as if Frank feeds him anything else. He never even named him. Not properly. Dog snaps, and I jump back, narrowly avoiding his sharp teeth catching my ankle.

Little shit.

He’s normallymydog, my defender . . . Dog even went for Dexter when my control freak of an ex wouldn’t back off. But with Frank, Dog’s got a blind spot. Frank can do no wrong. Even when he’s abusing the poor mutt.

Dog’s teeth drive me back another step. Frankdeservesto pay. But it’s not like I have the strength to best him, even if I could get past this snarling ball of matted fur.

Dammit, I assumed Frank stopped me emerging because I’m easier to control if I can’t shift. I didn’tunderstandthere was a more sinister reason behind it.

He’s cost me my place at an academy.

It slowly sinks in, and I rock back on my heels, my whole body trembling. Not just that, he’s signed me up for Las Ratas. A gang. The one thing I swore I’d never get involved in, not after Dad.

How do I get out of this? No one leaves Las Ratas, not alive.

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