And maybe that too much would see me.

13

NASH MUST HAVE SEEN understanding on my face—and near panic—because he wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer across the waxed surface of Carter’s car. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. An experienced bean sidhe knows how to stay safe. But we’re not experienced, Kaylee.” It was nice of him to include himself in that statement, but we both knew I was the newbie. “Besides, we don’t even know for sure that those girls weren’t on the list. This is all still theory. A very unlikely, dangerous theory.”

“We’ll know once Tod calls,” I insisted, the new information spinning around in my head, complicating what I’d thought I was prepared to do, should intervention prove necessary.

“That might not be tonight.”

“It will be.” He’d find out for us. Soon. Whether we’d actually gotten through to him, or he just really wanted my last name, I’d known in the instant before he’d disappeared that he would get us the information. “Call me as soon as you hear from him. Please.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “But you have to promise you won’t do anything dangerous, no matter what he says. No soul singing by yourself.”

Like I’d admit it if I were planning something risky. Besides…“I have no desire to see this Netherworld on my own. And my little talent’s no good without yours anyway, right?”

“Good point.” He relaxed a little then, and kissed me goodnight. I held him tight when he started to pull away, clinging to the taste and the feel of all things good and safe. Nash had become a shining tower of sanity in this new world of unprecedented chaos and unseen peril. And I didn’t want to let him go.

Unfortunately, in the world of curfews and alarm clocks, he couldn’t stay.

I closed and locked the door behind him, and watched through the front window until he backed out of the driveway and drove out of sight. I was pulling the curtains closed when something creaked behind me. “Kaylee?” I jumped and whirled to find my uncle standing in the hallway threshold, watching me.

“Jeez, Uncle Brendon, you scared the crap out of me!”

His smile was more of a grimace. “You’re not the only one around here with big ears.”

“Yeah, well it’s not the big ears that worry me so much as the big mouths,” I said, grateful that I could hear Sophie snoring again, now that the rest of the house was quiet. I padded across the carpet toward my uncle, then stepped around him and into the hall, desperately hoping he was bluffing. That he hadn’t actually heard my little argument with Nash.

He followed me to my room, and when I tried to swing the door shut behind me, his palm smacked into the hollow wood panel, holding it firmly open. “What’s going on, Kaylee?”

“Nothing.” Going for nonchalance, I kicked first one sneaker then the other onto the floor ofmy closet.

“I heard you two talking.” He leaned against the door frame, thick arms crossed over a broad chest, still well defined after who-knows-how-many years of life. “What are you planning at the memorial, and who’s Tod?”

Well, crap. I shoved aside a pile of clean, unfolded clothes Aunt Val had dumped on my bed at some point and sank onto the comforter, my mind whirling in search of an answer that was at least as much truth as it was fabrication. But I came up empty. Nothing I made up would ring true to him, especially considering he knew more about bean sidhes than I knew about…anything.

So maybe I should just tell him the truth…. That way, if the rogue reaper did show up at the memorial and Nash refused to help me out of some misguided attempt to protect me, surely Uncle Brendon would step in. He might act tough, but inside he was a big teddy bear, and he could no more watch an innocent girl die before her time than I could.

“You sure you want to hear this?” I pulled my legs beneath me on the bed, fiddling with the frayed hem of my jeans.

Uncle Brendon shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. But go ahead.”

“You might want to sit,” I warned him, reaching to pluck my iPod from my pillow. The earbuds had gotten tangled again; I guess that’s what I get for falling asleep wearing them.

My uncle shrugged, then settled into my desk chair, waiting with his arms still crossed over his chest.

“Okay, here’s the deal. And I’m only telling you this because I know you’ll do the right thing. So technically, I think my voluntary disclosure exempts me from any penalty for what I’m about to admit.”

His lips quirked, as if a smile had been vetoed at the last minute. “Go on…”

I inhaled and held the next breath for a moment, wondering where best to begin. But there was no good place to start, so I dove in, hoping my good intentions would bail me out during the less altruistic parts of the story. “Meredith Cole wasn’t the first one.”

“She wasn’t your first premonition?” He didn’t look surprised. Of course, he couldn’t have forgotten the other times—including the incident preceding my trip to the hospital.

“That too. But, I mean, she wasn’t the first girl to die this week. There was one Saturday night and one yesterday afternoon. It happened the same way with all three girls.”

“And you predicted them all?” Now he looked surprised, his forehead crinkled, brows furrowed.

“No, I never even saw the second one.” I glanced at my lap, avoiding his eyes while my fingers worked nervously at the earbuds, trying to produce two separate wires from a knot any sailor would have been proud of. “But I saw the girl who died on Saturday, and knew it was going to happen. Same thing with Meredith this afternoon.” Which I assumed Aunt Val had told him.