Aunt Penny’s eyes fall to the bloodied T-shirt wrapped around my arm. She circles me, taking in my disheveled appearance, and I can tell from her intake of breath the moment she discovers the ragged hole in the back of my T-shirt from where Bat Boy sank its claws into me.
“Oh my God, what happened?”
“I got mugged,” I say. Though I practiced it a dozen times in the cab, it still comes out with the ring of a lie.
“Bull. What really happened?”
She moves to touch my arm, but I pull it back.
“I got mugged,” I repeat.
“Where?”
“The movies.”
“You went to the movies?” she asks incredulously.
I nod.
“So you called the cops, then?” She crosses her arms over her chest, challenging me to lie.
I hold her stare.
“You got mugged and beat up and your car was what, stolen? And you never called the cops? Where were you really? Who did this to you?”
I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Can you just…not? I’m so tired. I just want to get cleaned up and go to bed.”
She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry to inconvenience you with—”
The outside lights next door flick on. Mrs. Abernathy appears on the porch.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Fine!” Aunt Penny calls cheerily. “Just typical teenager stuff. Thanks for asking!” She turns to me. “Inside,” she growls out of the side of her mouth.
I groan as I follow her into the house. As soon as the front door clicks closed behind us, she swings on me.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was? Do you even know what time it is?”
“It’s around the time you usually roll in from the clubs,” I say, and immediately regret it.
Her face twists into a mask of anger. “Used to, Indie. I don’t go out anymore because I have responsibilities now.”
“Sorry to ruin all your fun.”
She points her finger inches from my nose. “Don’t. Just don’t. You don’t get to make this about me right now.”
I bite my lip to keep from saying anything else. I’ve never seen Aunt Penny this mad, and I do feel sort of guilty for making her worry.
Her hand hangs in the air a moment longer before she lets her arm drop to her side. She turns so that her back is to me, but not before I see the brightness in her eyes. Her shoulders shake with silent tears.
“Aunt Penny,” I say, hesitantly touching her shoulder.
“I thought you were dead,” she sobs.
My gut twists. She lost her sister and she thought she’d lost me—she must have been out of her mind with panic.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Totally safe. I’m…sorry I made you worry. But I’ll get my car back, okay?”
“I don’t care about the stupid car!”
I gasp at her outburst.
I’d half expected her to soften with the apology, but she swings around on me again, her face ugly with anger. I take a step back. Aunt Penny may look like your typical L.A.-type bar star, what with the blond hair and manicure, but she can really go from zero to ghetto in sixty seconds.
“This isn’t going to happen again,” she says. Not a question. A statement.
“Okay, I’ll try to be more—”
“No,” she interrupts. “This won’t happen again. You won’t run off like this. You’ll go to school and actually stay at school. You’ll get good grades and you’ll go to college. And if you don’t? If you don’t follow my rules exactly as I’ve laid them out? You’ll go to witch boarding school.”
I bark a laugh.
“I’m dead serious,” she says. She holds her body so still that if she weren’t standing up I’d wonder if she was breathing.
“Is that even a thing?” I ask. “Witch boarding school? Did you just make that up?”
“Don’t you wish,” she answers. “It’s a thing. And it’s where you’ll be going if you don’t follow my rules.”
“But Paige—”
“But nothing,” she interrupts. “I’ve spoken with the Family. They’ve agreed to help search for Paige. This isn’t your problem anymore. You’re a teenager, and it’s time you started acting like one.”
“This is all really funny coming from you,” I say. “You just ‘grew up,’ when? A few weeks ago? And the Family—you really think they’re going to help us? They don’t give a rat’s ass about us. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”
“It’s not your problem anymore,” she repeats.
I want to argue. I want to shake her until sense comes back, or some semblance of the old Aunt Penny. But I can tell by the fiery look in her eyes that she won’t be argued with right now. And though I have serious doubts that a witch boarding school actually exists, I can’t say for sure that it doesn’t. And the last thing I need right now is to get sent away from Los Angeles. I need to get back to the boardwalk and the witch. I need to get back to Los Demonios to look for Paige.
I don’t need Aunt Penny on my back.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll follow your stupid rules.”
I’m shoving my textbooks into my locker the next morning when Bishop calls my name. I should have guessed by the girlie exclamations and the rise in pheromones in the air that he was near.
I hike my messenger bag up on my shoulder and swing around. And there he is, leaning up against the opposite bank of lockers. And he doesn’t look happy.
I did consider calling or texting him when I got in last night, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. My anger at him for taking Aunt Penny’s side may have dissipated a bit in the face of near death in Los Demonios, but it took only a few minutes of being back home and remembering the terrors of that place, knowing that Paige is still there, for it to come flooding back again, stronger than ever.
I probably should have called.
Sighing, I shoulder my bag. The concentrated stare of the female population of Fairfield High follows me as I join my boyfriend, but I pretend not to notice the attention.
“Where were you?” he asks, his tone low and dangerous.
“Sorry, I should have called—”
“Where were you?” he repeats. His eyes lock on mine, dark and unblinking. I’ve never seen Bishop this angry.
I square my shoulders, trying to disguise my nerves. “My dad’s been gone since I was three, and I don’t need a replacement, thanks.”