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Chapter One

I must have heard him wrong.

“You’re going where?”

My knife hovered over the chives I’d cut up beside a pile of crunched-up ramen and a collection of veggies and meats. All the ingredients for kitchen-sink stew. We’d started making it after Mom left, and Audra wouldn’t let me near the stove but didn’t know how to cook herself. It wasn’t lavish, but I grew to love it, no matter what concoction we cooked up.

“Out,” James said. He thumbed over his shoulder to the front door of my family’s apartment. “I forgot something.”

“You forgot something,” I repeated like a drone. “You forgot something?”

I wouldn’t pretend to know everything about my boyfriend, but I knew quite a bit:

He definitely sweated the small stuff.

He had crippling taste in printed socks and experimental art films.

He had excellent taste in girlfriends, if I wasn’t feeling too modest.

And he certainly wouldn’t have forgotten anything, today of all days.

James brought a hand to his heart, fingers splayed across the pullover I’d bought him last winter, with all the flair of a tragic hero. “Alas, I’m only human. I promise I’ll just be gone for a bit.”

I glanced out the window over the stove. The steam fogged the glass but it was clearly, obviously, close to dark, the sun haloing the surrounding skyscrapers in strained orange light.

“Uh, no.”

“No?”

We were both repetitious drones, it seemed.

I gave him a look, knowing by his tone where this was going. First would be the innocent little questions repeated back to me, followed by the teasing grin, and soon we’d both be laughing and I’d have a harder time arguing with him. James never pushed me into anything I really didn’t want to do, but he sure had a way of keeping me on my toes, from the days visiting the principal’s office together to the nights we’d sneak out to meet each other in the cemetery between his house and my family’s apartment, back when we were heedless of the danger we were putting ourselves in.

He was trouble, and I still couldn’t get enough of him.

“No,” I repeated back. “It’s nearly dark. You know as well as I do—you know more than I do—how dangerous that is!”

“Kiara… my dearest Kiara.”

I leveled the knife at his chest as he approached. “Begone with your honeyed words, temptress.”

He grinned at the knife, the kind of grin that always made my heart beat double time. “Technically it’d be tempter, if we want to be politically correct.”

“Don’t change the subject. What could you have possibly forgotten?”

I let him push the knife onto the counter as he drew in close, a celestial body entering my orbit and disrupting my sense of gravity. “I seem to recall it’s a certain girl’s birthday. And I…”—his lips brushed beneath my ear—“forgot…”—he kissed the corner of my lips—“her present. Because I’m an idiot.”

Despite being together for years, even featherlight kisses, so disarmingly innocent, were enough to turn my knees to jelly. It was difficult to concentrate pinned between him and the counter, but he was wrong and it was my job to correct him, so I managed. “Whatever it is, I’ll love it just as much tomorrow.”

He gave me a forlorn look. “Babe, it needs to be now.”

“You were the one always telling me to never go out after dark around here if I could help it.”

And for good reason. Sure, the monsters that prowled the world were technically as dangerous as any other wild animal, and sure, the government always said that, as long as you took precautions, you’d be safe. But call me risk averse. I wanted James flirting with me, not danger.

“I know, I know, I’m a massive hypocrite,” James said. “I’ll only be an hour, tops.” He placed another kiss on my neck. “Then we’ll have cake, and I’ll give you your present, followed by me singing ‘Happy Birthday’ woefully out of key just how you like it—”

“Please don’t subject us to that,” I said.

“—and you can regale me with exactly how dumb I am, an act in three parts. Maybe even in verse.”

He was full-on smiling now, crinkling his nose. I glared at him until he crossed his eyes, making it impossible for me to keep a straight face. “You are the absolute worst.”

“In the best way possible. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“Make up what to who?” My father stepped into the kitchen, iPad in hand, glasses perched on his nose so he could nail the mildly chastising look he gave us. “I hope we’re not canoodling.”

“Oh my god, Dad,” I gasped. “Seriously?”

James drew away from me, the teasing grin never leaving his face. “This is a canoodle-free household, Mr. Ullithorn,”

“Nor hijinks,” my dad said. “Though that hasn’t been true since you started coming over, James.”

“I’m sincerely sorry,” he lamented.

“You absolutely are not. Shoo. Out of the kitchen, both of you.”

I held up the knife. “I was just—”

My dad carefully extracted it from my hand. “I’m no Michelin chef, but I think I can manage to mix a few things in boiling water without killing us.”

“Come on.” I pulled James into the hallway.

“Remember, no canoodling!” my father called. “Your poor old father’s request for his baby girl.”

James laughed as my cheeks burned. He brought his forehead to mine, close enough that I could see the freckles dusting the tops of his cheeks, somewhat faded this far into winter. I’d tried counting them once but never got very far before being caught all too eagerly in his eyes.

“Back in a few, Kare Bear,” he murmured.

For an eternity stretched into the span of a second, I had the terrible premonition that I’d remember this moment forever. An unsettling feeling scratching at the back of my mind. James never forgot anything revolving around my birthday. We’d only celebrated it together since we were in the third grade. You’d think after eight years, five of those as a couple, he’d have it down to a science. Heck, he was the one who always made it a much bigger deal than I did.

So he wouldn’t have forgotten. But this time he did.

And I should have made him stay. And this time I didn’t.

Instead, I gave him a quick, canoodle-free kiss and demanded, “An hour, max.”

“I won’t let the beasties have even a nibble,” he swore.

“Not funny.”

“You’re right, it’s hilarious. Love you, Kare Bear.”

“Love you,” I whispered back. Then, “James?”

He’d already turned around, pulling out his phone. The stark glow of the screen lit up the grave expression on his face. Then he looked at me and it was gone.

“Be safe,” I said.

Another grin. “Always.”

With a final squeeze of my hand, he slipped on his shoes and pushed open the door, letting in a brief burst of winter wind and a few snow flurries to nip at me. The door shut, only to open a moment later as Willow poked her head in.

“Knock knock!”

“Hey! You’re early!”

“Fashionably late, please.” She glanced back outside. “Where’s James going?”

“He forgot something.”

She scrunched her nose, creasing her near-flawless black skin. “James?”

“Right? That’s what I said.” A sudden idea hit me. “Hey, do you think you could give him a ride?”

Willow gave an elegant wave of her hand. “Babe, I’m sure he’ll be fine. There hasn’t been an attack around here in a while, and the subways are totally safe. I assume. I haven’t ridden one in ages…”

She caught my deadpan stare.

“Of course I can!” she swiftly amended.

I followed her out as she checked the parking lot where her chauffeur normally dropped her off. The car was already gone.

“I can call him back,” Willow said, pulling out her phone.

“It’s okay,” I said, sighing. “James is probably halfway to the subway by now. Come in before I freeze.”

“You wouldn’t if you had one of these,” Willow sing-songed, pulling her woolen stole higher up her neck. “Fresh off fashion week and so warm.”

When she stepped back inside, her mere presence in our comparatively plain apartment doubled its resale value. She was a thousand YouTube makeup tutorials and a hundred fashion magazines brought to life in one polished package. At any point strutting down the street, she seemed primed to suddenly find herself on a runway or fend off the fashion police.

“I smell perfume.” My dad poked his head out of the kitchen, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Hey, Willow. Food’ll be a bit. Lisette’s already upstairs.”

“Actively making a mess of it as we speak, no doubt,” Willow said.

“Lisette has ears,” Lisette called from my room. “Kiara, bring that walking aromatherapy up here.”

Willow shed her heels and shooed me upstairs where we found Lisette lounging on the small couch in my room. The bag of chips she’d commandeered on the way up lay in two parts: the crumbs scattered on the front of her hoodie, and the empty bag she tossed at us when we walked in. I ducked, but it smacked Willow in the face, which was probably Lisette’s goal.

“I expected no less from you,” Willow said, sniffing indignantly.

Lisette grinned, showing too much canine. “Glad I didn’t disappoint. Did I hear James leave?”

“He’ll be right back,” Willow said. I could feel her eyes flicking to me, an unspoken signal.

“Of course he will,” Lisette dutifully answered.

Willow shooed her aside as I spun into my computer chair, trying not to look at the clock. Lisette had swung her sweatpants-clad butt toward Willow and was pushing against her with her feet, which Willow gracefully ignored. She was opposite Willow in every way—tomboyish, a slob, and an intentional underachiever—which was maybe why they mostly got along.

Willow was chatting about how high her entrance exam scores were and how proud she was of me getting into Arcadia University with her, and how Lisette could do so much better than average, earning another toss from the chip bag. And then Lisette was looking at me, brow crinkled.

“Did James say why he was going out? He of all people…”

“I know,” I said.

She glanced at the window. It’d gotten fully dark, and my mood was moving that way.

“I know,” I repeated.

“You’re both being paranoid,” Willow said.

Lisette let the silence hang. Willow, seemingly aware that this wasn’t a subject she could reassure us on, withdrew a finely stuffed gift bag from beneath her stole. “You know what will distract you?”

“A gift she won’t use?” Lisette said.

Willow frowned at her. “A gift she can grow into. For the fashionable and sophisticated women I know you both—”

Lisette let out a small burp.

“—I know that one of you will become.”

I unwrapped the tissue paper to behold a purse of black leather and gleaming gold buckles. Clearly expensive and clearly with a lot of thought put into picking it.

“This is amazing, Willow,” I said, meaning it. “I would say it’s too much…”

“And I’d say too bad, it’s yours,” Willow said, pleased. “I know you’re not a purse girl, but I have hope that’ll change one day.”

“What about me?” Lisette said. “What if I’m a purse girl?”

“The only purse you’re getting is mine smacking the side of your head.”

That set them off bickering again and I smiled. Willow’s gifts always came with more thought than it seemed, but none could top the one she gave me for James’s and my two-year anniversary.

I touched the small, golden necklace dangling just beneath my shirt. Half a heart with the word My engraved on it. James wore the second half that simply said Heart. The gift, being from Willow, had meant more than I could say, since it was Willow who James had gently broken up with when he and I finally gathered the courage to admit how we felt about each other.

            I continued happily watching Lisette and Willow go at it until I looked up and realized it was ten minutes past the hour James said he’d be back. A miniature black hole opened in my gut.

Stop freaking out. Delays happen.

I pulled out my phone.

Don’t be clingy.

I wasn’t clingy. I was concerned. As any girlfriend would be. That was always my favorite part of our relationship. We could each do our own thing and trust the other would be there if we needed it.

But it wouldn’t hurt to check on him.

You good? I texted.

Two minutes. Five. Ten. Nothing.

You on your way back?

He’d probably forgotten his phone, just like he’d forgotten my present. Two things he never did.

Another two minutes. Five. Ten. Breathe…

It was really dark outside.

Why was I so worried? The subways were probably running late, though they hardly ever did. Willow was right. There were barely ever any monster attacks in the area.

But they do happen.

Not helping.

Hey let me know ur okay

I realized the conversation had stalled. Lisette and Willow were both looking at me again.

“Anything?” Willow said gently.

I stood. “I’m gonna help Dad finish up dinner. Come down in five.”

“Kiara—” Lisette tried as I slipped downstairs. My panic was rising like a pot of water rolling to a boil, and with great effort I tried to turn the heat down. Monster attacks were rare. A boy in our school went missing, but he likely ran away. A girl two grades below us suddenly left too. But people whispered she’d gotten pregnant, not eaten. Pretending that every disappearance and terrible event was the work of monsters gave us a way to excuse the more complex truths.

I wasn’t calming myself down.

“Can I help?” I blurted out, bursting into the kitchen. My dad looked up from peeking into the oven. His face was dusted with flour.

“You’re baking?” I asked.

“Trying to. I thought you were with Lisette and Willow…”

“I want to help.”

He nodded, as though sensing the reason for my unease. “Set the table. I’m nearly done, once this stupid bread rises.”

“How old is the yeast?”

“Wait, it expires?”

I laughed a sigh as he went off to check the pantry.

“Seems both you and the yeast should be celebrating the same birthday,” he called. “Scratch the bread, then.”

I was halfway finished setting the table when my phone buzzed. I practically ripped my jeans pulling it out.

Happy birthday.

I stared at the text from my older sister. No exclamation point. No emoji. She wasn’t mad. She was just Audra.

“I take it you reminded Audra it was my birthday?” I said.

“Did she text?” my dad said. “I’m sure she’ll call later.”

“Like she has before?”

“You know how busy she is. And how she’s… well, you know.”

I did know. It was better she wasn’t here. Not because I didn’t love her, or even that being almost seven years apart meant we had practically nothing in common. But lately, more than ever before, she was a constant reminder of a debt I could never pay back.

“That him?” Willow asked as she and Lisette came downstairs.

I stuffed my phone back in my pocket. “Audra.”

Willow gave me a sympathetic look. “Not even one emoji?”

“How’d you guess?”

Lisette stopped laughing at my dad’s failed bread crusade long enough to say, “If he doesn’t show in ten minutes, I could hunt him down.”

Willow held up her phone. “I could call my car. Take us all over to his place. You know, he probably forgot to buythe gift and is just having trouble deciding.”

Lisette snorted. “This is James. When has he ever forgotten something about Kiar—”

Willow gave a loud, fake cough.

It was two hours after he said he’d be back. I was done pretending I wasn’t panicked.

“Yeah, Willow, can you call—”

The doorbell rang. The sudden rush of euphoric relief nearly brought me to my knees. “I’ll get it,” I practically growled.

“Leave some of him for the rest of us,” Lisette said.

“Poor boy,” Willow lamented.

Fuming, I stomped to the front door and threw it open. “James Vincent, you—”

“Kiara Ullithorn?”

Two people who couldn’t have been a year, maybe two, older than me—both dressed in black suits with white shirts and blood-red ties—stood outside, snow dusting their shoulders. I stared at them.

“Miss Kiara Ullithorn,” the girl said.

Not a question, a confirmation. The me that wasn’t entirely me, the spirit that had fled my body and was watching overhead like a stranger, said, “Who are you?”

The boy checked over my shoulder, as though to make sure we were truly alone. His eyes looked sad. Weepy, even. “Your boyfriend was James Vincent.”

It took my mind a second to register what he said. Was. James Vincent was my boyfriend.

“Kiara,” the boy said, “we’re so sorry, James is… Well, you see, the thing is…”

“James is dead,” the girl said. “And now he won’t stop asking to talk to you.”