At least, she didn’t want people to see her running off crying.
She’d never wanted to know exactly what it was her father had done before his arrest, never wanted her worst fears confirmed. How much of Danny’s personality ran through her veins? Her grandma called him moody, and said Fiona was the same. “You two are cut from the same cloth,” she used to say.
But even when she was young, Fiona knew Danny’s rages were more than just moodiness. There was something very wrong with him. Something about the way his face would suddenly shift from a grin to a glare, something about the dead look in his eyes.
She wasn’t like him. She could never torture anyone. She couldn’t watch someone writhe in agony and smile over it all.
But maybe she wasn’t quite normal, either. Why had she been so angry at Tobias for lying? She lied to her mother all the time. She lashed out at people for no reason, just because she knew how. Lack of empathy, emotionally manipulative. She was no psychologist, but she was pretty sure these were characteristics of a psychopath.
She rubbed her arms, trudging deeper into the woods. Her heart thrumming, she ran through what she could remember of psychopathy symptoms from her psychology class. Impulsivity—check. A need for excitement—check. She had that all in spades.
Maybe Tobias wasn’t the real demon here. A little voice in the sludgy depths of her mind chanted the word monster, and she tried to tune it out.
She was nothing like Mom, the chatterbox who made small talk with bank tellers and waiters. Mom seemed to genuinely care how they were doing, while Fiona was just anxious to get on to something more interesting.
But if her personality didn’t come from her mother—that left only Danny. His blood ran through her, a venom that would pollute everything she touched.
A flicker of movement above caught her attention, and she spotted a black pair of wings fluttering closer. Byron. She paused, relief washing over her.
He circled her head, and his voice rose in her mind like a thought. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Her nose had begun to run, and she wiped it with the back of her hand. “Nothing. I’m just not sure what happened to my mom. She never made it to Virginia, and it seems like the police might be questioning her.” She’d ask Byron to pass on a message, but Mom wouldn’t be able to hear him, and if she suspected a bat was trying to talk to her, she would assume she’d lost her mind. “And Estelle says you can’t stay here. She has some kind of irrational problem with bats.”
“Do you need me to leave?” She could hear the disappointment in his voice.
“Just for now. Please check on my mom. I’ll find you again when I get out of this place.”
Byron flew one final loop around her head before lifting off into the sky. Poor guy didn’t even get a chance to rest.
Please let him bring back good news soon. How long had the witch hunters been holding her mother for? They must have nabbed her before she’d got to Virginia.
Fiona started at the sound of footsteps behind her. The hair raised on her arms as she scanned the landscape, trying to figure out if she needed to shift course. Through the ferns, someone bumbled, muttering to herself. Not very stealthy for a night patrol.
A woman whispered, “Hubbard—someone’s here. The bat girl.”
Ah. The weird lady of the woods. “Cadonia?”
She stepped into the moonlight, pulling off a red hood. She was pretty—about thirty, with a wild head of sun-bleached hair. She gripped something that looked like a ceramic vase. Steam rose from the top, and Fiona inhaled the rich scent of coffee. A tiny brown rodent—a chipmunk—scuttled from her hood onto Cadonia’s shoulder.
Cadonia tilted her head, whispering, “What’s that, Hubbard?” She smiled, exposing long incisors. “Ah. The devil’s daughter.”
“Awesome. Is that my new nickname?” Fiona really needed to get the hell out of Dogtown before one of these wolves ripped her throat out. “Do you think I could be alone now?”
“You’re doing patrols with me,” Cadonia snarled. “Estelle said so.”
“But that was before. Like you said, I’m the devil’s daughter. I don’t think I’m welcome in Dogtown anymore. My patrol gig is over.”
Cadonia stumbled forward as Hubbard stood upright on her shoulder, tail flicking. “Estelle don’t like your bat form. She don’t trust anyone with links to the shadow gods. But your father’s sins ain’t your fault. My dad murdered four people. Not my fault. I didn’t murder no one. I don’t even eat meat.” She took a long sip of coffee, surveying Fiona with piercing blue eyes.