"Do you really need the hours?" I asked Allie.
She shifted from foot to foot, inspecting the wood in front of us. Catalina had gone home, citing a need to catch up on homework and some scheduled family time. Mason stood on my other side, looking at the blackboard upon which Bonnie McMurray was drawing out instructions for the assembly of her beehives.
"I have yet to get to twenty-five," she shrugged, "And there weren't that many people signed up for this so..."
"I've only got the four from the car wash. But it's nice of you to come support other students."
"Well, it benefits me too. It would suck if not many people turned out to help me with my project, you know? I'm out here building rapport."
"Is that it?"
I raised an eyebrow at Mason. He caught my glance and subtly shook his head with a soft smile.
"You're a good person, Allie."
"I know," she said pertly, then her smile dropped, "I just wish Trevor had come. Apparently George Sappho called out sick today from Locke's store so he had to cover. I totally saw George at school today, but whatever."
"He was in theater today," I remembered, drumming my fingers lightly against my lips in thought, "And he didn't look sick."
"I saw him leaving with Katie Hopkins," Mason divulged.
Alissa leaned forward over the table to stare at him open-mouthed.
"No way," she breathed, looked around at the others gathered - mainly the Wardes and a few of Bonnie's friends - then back at Mason, "He just broke up with Robbie Charleston a few days ago."
Mason shrugged.
"What an asshole! It's really not fair; he robbed me of that time with Trevor for that! Not cool."
"George probably didn't realize what you were trying to do," I pointed out.
Mason clicked his tongue, "I understand a mental health day due to the breakup, but this is unprofessional."
"Exactly!" Allie said emphatically.
"Is that the real reason you're here?" I asked jokingly, "Too late to back out now?"
"Totally," she said with a poorly tempered smirk, eyes flickering between Mason and me, then back to the board, "Like I'd willingly third-wheel."
I looked at Mason. He shook his head again. If she couldn't pursue her crush with Trevor, perhaps she wanted to live vicariously through us. That was fine by me; just as long as she didn't ask for the details. Not that there were any yet.
I nipped on the tip of my tongue for that thought, hoping to quell the blush that threatened to blossom in my cheeks. Mason narrowed his eyes, but he didn't question it.
Bonnie was quick with her instructions, giving each table an assignment. We'd been tasked with putting together the rectangular frames intended for honey storage. The three of us put on our safety glasses and set about examining the materials. Kira and Leo behind us set to work on their assignment with Kira chattering away about her garden.
"Do you have experience with this sort of thing?" I asked Mason, pulling the wood for the frames across the table toward myself.
"Ah, well, I can put together a mean Ikea end-table," he said with a shrug, "But these can't be too difficult."
"They're literally wood rectangles, guys," Alissa chuckled, deftly gathering up wood glue, a drill, and some screws, "You're overthinking things."
Mason and I shared a glance, but followed Alissa's lead.
We worked in parallel, each creating a wooden frame with the abundance of shop tools at our disposal. The wood had been pre-cut and the thin strips slatted nicely into each other after addition of the beeswax foundation to the groove of the bottom of the frame.
"Ah!" Allie sucked air through her teeth, dropping the pieces of wood she'd slatted together, "Shoot!"
"Allie?" I checked, immediately dropping my tools.
"Splinter," she mumbled, inspecting her thumb where I could see a dot of red, "It's not ba-"
"Put it in your mouth," I instructed severely, glancing at the table behind us.
Three pairs of hands had stilled, including Mason's beside me.
"What?"
"Do it, saliva has healing properties."
Surprised into obedience, she did as I instructed, her brown eyes questioning and a little indignant.
"I think I have a band-aid," Mason said quickly, ducking to rummage in his backpack.
Allie wandered partway toward him, finger still in her mouth. Glancing back at Kira and Leo, I nibbled on my lower lip. Kira caught my eye, pinched her nose with her hand briefly, and nodded. Leo gave me a very obvious thumbs-up paired with a dopey grin.
"You afraid of blood or something?" Allie asked around her thumb, reclaiming my attention.
"Splinters are pretty gross."
"Here," Mason piped up, passing over a little band-aid still in sterile packaging. It was the waterproof kind, the type that sealed around all edges; able to keep things out, or in this case, in. "Is the splinter still inside?"
She nibbled on her own thumb for a moment, then gently spat something out on the back of her hand, "Not anymore!"
Mason handed it over then went back to his work with renewed vigor.
"What are all of you thinking for your senior projects?" I prompted, my voice a little too high for the casual question, but I wanted to change the topic. Introduce a distraction.
"I know I want to do something with self-image and professionalism, but I'm not exactly sure what yet," Alissa hummed to herself, finishing up with the band-aid and getting back to work. "Leo, you've probably got a plan, right?"
He grinned and nodded, working on a box Kira propped up for him. He set a clamp in place to hold the pieces of wood together.
"Organize a springtime lawn mower tuneup."
"That's pretty involved, isn't it?" Allie wondered.
"Not really," he shrugged, unconcerned, "You change the oil, change the filter, clean 'er out, sharpen the blades, install a new spark-plug, and -"
"That's involved," I interrupted, "Homer is a small town, but not so small that you wouldn't be overwhelmed with mowers. And where would you get the folks to help out?"
"I'll just teach the lot of you."
"I don't know if I'd feel comfortable working around blades and stuff," Allie admitted doubtfully, "I'm okay with these handsaws, but that's about it."
"Then you can change out the oil, no problem!"
Allie returned to her work, raising her eyebrows briefly in doubt but shrugged it off in the next second.
"Kira? Ideas?"
"Definitely a community vegetable garden."
"Mason?"
"Mm... still thinking on it."
"And you," Allie pointed a finger at me, "You're probably only thinking as far as your next meal."
"You got me," I chuckled.
"How many community hours do you have left?"
"After this?" I frowned, "Fourteen. It's twenty per semester, right?"
"Oh, you'll have plenty of opportunity. You're on bonfire and formal setup and take down. It'll be fine."
Mason frowned, then asked, "Couldn't you tutor?"
His face resolved before Allie spoke.
"You can only tutor if your grades are high enough...."
She immediately looked apologetic, yet still curious in spite of herself. On my fake transcripts from another school, I'd made myself an As and Bs student. I certainly wasn't living up to that standard.
"The move has been rough on me, I guess," I shrugged, slatting together two frame-pieces, "But I'm allowed to tutor for classes I've previously gotten a B plus or higher in."
"I see," Allie sympathized with a nod, "It doesn't really help that you were sick last Wednesday either. There was a pop quiz in calculus; have you retaken it yet?"
"Yes, I went after school last Thursday."
Mason's eyes raked over me, head to toe. We'd been playing hangman the day before I'd been absent; I'd acted fine, then. I'd told everyone that it was food poisoning, but clearly Mason wasn't buying it.
"Either way, you don't have to worry about hours," Allie assured, switching gears, "Bonfire setup and takedown should be two hours total, formal will be at least four to six hours with making the decorations and whatnot. And I've got a whole bag of can tabs if you need some supplemental stuff to submit hours through drives."
"I might take you up on that," I sighed, relieved.
"It seems like this project may need another session next week to complete as well," Mason murmured, looking over his shoulder to where Bonnie worked closely with a few groups encountering trouble, "Kira and Leo were able to make the hive body and cover, but the group working on the honey super were having trouble. Not to mention that we'll need to fill in the screw holes, cut off the excess from the bottom bar, and sand it all out once the glue is set."
"Uh," Allie hesitated, one eyebrow raised, "I know it's on the board, but all I know is that we made frames."
"That's our Ikea master for you."
Mason averted his attention from Bonnie's mind and ran a hand through his hair before busying himself. We cleaned up swiftly, sweeping down the shop room and putting away the half-fished bee box into a designated corner. Alissa chattered with us the entire way to the parking lot without allowing either of us a word in edgewise. I was envious of her energy, particularly after the extended school day.
"Oh, Catalina says she's available for a sleepover this Friday if you're interested," Alissa remembered as we reached Mason's car, "She said that if you wanted to invite Kira and Anne that would be fine."
She wavered over Anne's name, but put on a good show of keeping her face neutral. Kira had taken to chatting with the rest of the table on a regular basis during lunchtime, but Anne - on account of no longer being a highschooler - was still clearly more of an outsider.
"I don't know," Mason noted, absently reaching an arm to cup my shoulders as we spoke. Alissa's eyes watched the movement, glittering. "I think Kira would love to take you up on that offer another time. Anne may already be busy already."
"Right, of course, just let me know; it'll be my place this time," she tittered, starting to walk backward toward her car.
"Should I bring anything?"
"I'm on dinner, Cat is on snacks, you're on dessert," she pulled out her phone, "As of right now, that is. I'll put it in the chat."
I sighed at her whimsy, "I'm on it."
Mason opened my door for me and I slid in, slumping into the seat with relief as he joined me.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, fine."
I tilted my head back onto the rest.
"Good thinking, earlier," he praised and I looked over. His fingers reached to brush the back of his knuckles over my cheek down to my lips. He gazed appreciatively into my face, like a man whose wife had brought his forgotten lunch to work for him. "About Alissa's splinter. Though I think you underestimate us."
My admiration evaporated a little bit.
"I'm rightfully cautious."
He began brushing the little strands of hair near my ears, gently smoothing them back and around the curve, "The three of us are fairly in-control. Samuel, Kira, and I are the only ones who drank from humans with any level of regularity. And my stint was very short-lived in the grand scheme of a vampire-life. Samuel's... well, it took him much longer to discover this lifestyle, but he's doing his utmost to adhere to it."
I leaned into Mason's touch, worrying, "I'm still not sure how I would handle the situation if any of you were to slip up now. To bite or to kill a human from here forward..."
"I understand," his eyes grew mildly forlorn and guilt blossomed in my belly, "You've already been lenient with us."
"I'm sorry. I'm bringing down the mood."
"It's alright," he soothed, "It's important that we know where we stand in all of this."
I nodded, chewing on my lower lip and deciding upon a change in subject as he set the car into reverse, "Why aren't Kira and Anne free tomorrow?"
"We're going hunting altogether. Every other Friday or so; it's a family tradition."
I swallowed and frowned, snapping out of my fatigue to inspect his neutral expression. He caught my eye, meeting it curiously.
"It's still so strange to hear about a vampire discussing the hunt," I confessed and a little, confused smile curved his lips. "And to know that you're not going to actually hurt people."
"Your heart raced the moment I mentioned it."
"Habit. Your human blood is ethically sourced, as is the animal blood... more or less."
"I'm sure that many activist groups would take issue."
"You did leave that cougar alive as you fed. You know the heart still beats for a while after cervical dislocation; you could feed from the still-circulating blood without causing the animal pain or panic."
"But cervical dislocation causes severe trauma to the neck," he argued, "If the easiest place to access an animal's blood swells and clots, then we lose access to circulation and we're unable to consume enough. We want to kill as few animals as possible to avoid waste and to do that, well..."
Quiet, I considered. It wasn't as if a mountain lion cared for the ethical nature in which it killed a deer, after all. This was still fairly considerate in comparison.
"Waste," I echoed thoughtfully, "What do you do with the carcasses once you've drained them?"
"Scatter them for the scavenging wildlife, usually."
"Bring me back one or two each time, will you?"
His next glance questioned my sanity.
"Free food."
"Aren't you already getting enough free fish out of the arrangement with Chief Murphy and company?"
"Not enough to keep up with my metabolism," I argued.
"You sure you don't want flowers or jewelry?" he pressed, though he smiled, as if he knew better than to ask.
"No. I want a freshly-dead deer."
He shook his head, amusement lingering for a few more moments on his expression.
"Speaking of the Valley Point folks," he said, tone suddenly dampened, "You seem to have attracted their interest."
I glanced at his expression. His rosy-pale profile was in relief against the smear of green forest rushing by us along the highway. I noticed the hardening of his emerald eyes.
"Ray and Terry?" I probed.
"No, Alissa didn't catch their names. But she's been dying to catch you alone in order to ask about them. That's why she's suggesting a sleepover."
"Oh?"
He hedged now, gripping the steering wheel a bit more tightly, "She wants to know about the one who drove the red pickup."
"Oh," I mumbled, the pieces finally clicking into place, "He took a liking to me."
"He?"
"Caleb," I said, trying to keep my tone light.
"What's his deal?"
"He's Ray Hayes's son," I started tentatively, gaging the thinly veiled aggression, "He's a good cook and changed the oil of my car for free."
"Anne or Leo can do that."
"I'm not encouraging him," I stated calmly.
"Who does he think he is; pursuing a seventeen year old?"
Oh.
"I'm not seventeen."
Mason's teeth clenched as he growled out the next words, "Does he know that?"
"No," I muttered softly, shrinking back against the seat, "But I think he picks up on - "
"You think or you know?"
I started, eyes wide as I briefly wondered whether he'd read the end of my thought before I'd said it. He waited, eyes still fixed on the road.
"I think."
Mason let out a low, rumbling growl from his chest. His mouth remained a thin line as the sound vibrated out of him.
"Let me handle this," I instructed.
"He's-"
"Trust me to handle this," I demanded.
A little click resonated as Mason's teeth met and I noticed that the sound clashed toward the front of his mouth, where his canines were behind his lips. Stiffness radiated from each of his limbs, robotic in each of his movements. A chill raced down my spine.
"Do you know what he is?" Mason finally asked.
"Yes," I responded without hesitation. Mason glanced my way, floored for a quick moment. "Do you?"
"Yes, I know. We encountered the Lawatscoh before; it was nineteen thirty? Thirty-one? The encounter ended in an uncomfortable treaty; we don't set foot on their land and we aren't killed. We continue to refrain from killing humans and we aren't killed. When we returned to Homer, Caleb was among those in the welcoming party -"
"Was he the one of the same ones you encountered the first time you visited?" I frowned, confused.
"No," he corrected, managing to be businesslike in our discussion, "But there is an immortal component to their transformation. Once they give up transforming for good, they become mortal once again. From the minds of this new... pack, I recognized a face or two. Successfully-aged individuals who have become respected elders in the community."
"Immortal, genetic skinchangers," I whistled, stunned, "I wonder how that came about..."
"What?"
Mason's brows were fully furrowed now and he glared out the windshield.
"I've been researching them," I admitted, speaking cautiously, "Trying to get into their good-graces to figure out more about them."
"Like you did with us?"
I quieted for a moment.
Then finally, "My family doesn't just protect humans. We're scholars. Researchers of the supernatural. Just because you and I became something more doesn't mean that will happen with any of the skinchangers."
My fists clenched where they rested on my thighs, "I will be careful."
Mason gripped the steering wheel tightly and I heard the plastic crackle beneath his fists, "I don't like it."
"Can you trust me?" I asked, reaching to run my fingers over the flexed back of his hand.
He visibly un-clenched his teeth, worked his jaw, then looked over to me as we turned off the main road toward my house.
"I can," he decided, then narrowed his eyes, "Do you think they have anything to do with the disappearances?"
"No, I agree with what your family decided upon; they consider themselves human protectors. Not only is their scent a mismatch to the one left behind at the murder-scenes, they shouldn't feel the instinct to feed on humans the way werewolves and vampires tend to. There's really no reason for them to be killing humans. And no evidence at this point."
"Shouldn't?"
"They're skinchangers," I said, tipping my head back to lean upon the headrest again, "People who typically use the pelts of animals in order to transform into a creature of their choosing. Their intelligence is slightly compromised in animal form and there are a few other drawbacks, but largely, they're as natural a supernatural as you can get.
"Carmen mentioned that they're genetic skinchangers though, meaning that they don't require the animal pelt to trigger a transformation. It's a trait that's passed down from generation to generation instead. And I have no idea what to make of their immortality; it seems as if there are multiple occult magics at play. It's certainly rare..."
"How did she know that they're skin changers?" Mason wondered, "Is someone leaking information to her? From what I picked from their brains, they're awfully close-lipped about their kind."
"Carmen's energy sensing," I answered easily, "Things like vampires and undead give off inverse energy; something that was once natural that's now unnatural. Demons and witches that practice black magic give off negative energy; things that are purest evil. Humans and magically-cloaked creatures give off baseline energy. Positive energy is given-off by supernaturals in-tune with nature, so witches, fae, and skin changers."
"Two things," he noted, putting his car in park as the dashboard began to flicker. We were within range of my property line. "The first is; how does she know that they're skin changers and not witches or fairies?"
I frowned, "Theoretically, energy sensing could be honed to that degree. But more likely, she drew conclusions based on the legends they tell tourists."
Mason pondered this, watching the digital clock flicker in the dashboard.
"You think the Lawatscoh are like you?" he said finally, looking over to me curiously, "A sort of... hybrid occult?"
"I think so," I said, a smile stretching across my face as I contemplated what I'd gathered, "It's so rare, you know! My family, well..."
I glanced over apologetically, my lips becoming a line as I halted myself before spilling anything more. Mason's eyes glittered mischievously.
"It's alright," he assured begrudgingly, "Even if you can't say everything, what you are sharing with me makes me feel important."
"Do you trust me to research the Lawatscoh?"
"I trust you with that," he frowned, narrowing his eyes, "I just don't trust this Caleb fellow."
"I'm over a century old, Mason, and he's twenty-five. I think I've got the advantage here."
"I still feel... protective," he grumbled.
"The word is jealous," I teased.
"You are a tad naive despite your years."
I waved a hand, quick to change the subject, "Whatever. You said you had two thoughts earlier. What was your second?"
He paused, his face relaxing into thoughtfulness once more, "In the context of energy sensing, vampires are considered inverse energy rather than negative energy."
"What about it?"
"One is considered twisted while the other is considered evil. Vampires aren't considered evil in terms of energy?"
"I suppose not. One of my little-triplet cousins, Rosa, was a skilled Sensor. She could describe her talent fairly well: some vampires as more void than others - the older the vampire, the more void they were.
"I'd assumed it had to do with how many humans were killed or perhaps the length of time they'd been without their humanity. The twisted energy of vampires is why we largely consider them pitiable. Though some did become monsters in their own right. Our policy was, most often, to kill quickly.
"On rare occasion, we would experiment, but those were few and far between. And we certainly never vampirized humans ourselves to have subjects for these experiments. Most commonly, these vampires were just prisoners of war -"
I noticed Mason's rapt expression morph into a wide-eyed glassy horror.
"What?"
"Experiments?" he echoed.
"I told you, in exact amounts, how much of my blood could kill a vampire. I told you the effects. Do you think we learned that in the heat of battle? Blinded by adrenaline? We learned in controlled conditions, during experiments."
"You see nothing wrong with that?"
"Retrospectively, perhaps, but if I had the chance to turn back time, I wouldn't change anything," I admitted boldly, heart pulsing against my ribs as I spoke the words. "We learned many things; how much lamalis does a human need to consume to be adequately protected from vampire compulsion? To deter vampires from feeding?
"We never subjected the humans to injury, of course, simply taking blood samples from willing participants. We learned that vampires couldn't survive on animal blood alone, that they needed human blood. We learned that vampires could survive from donated human blood, but didn't like the taste -"
I glanced his way and he tilted his head back and forth, contemplative, "It's why we sate ourselves further with animal blood. Blood bags aren't the worst but they're not the best."
"There are no recorded experiments that torture vampires for the hell of it. We've always had a clear goal in mind; learn methods by which to better protect the humans or fine-tune mode of death so it's quicker for both us and the vampire."
"You still speak about it so clinically. They were probably terrified, you know. They weren't fully human, but not entirely devoid of humanity either."
"I know," I whispered, "But there's no taking it back. Even if it was wrong, we're better for it."
Cold fingers reached and cupped one of the clenched fists in my lap, taking it and gently unfurling it. Mason intertwined his hand into mine, breathing deeply as he stared down at our unioned hands.
"Do you think worse of me?" I wondered.
"No," he murmured, meeting my eyes, "It was unsettling to hear, but likely no more unsettling than my story had been for you."
"You're starting to regret what you did. Even if I wasn't involved in many of these experiments, I still believe they were for the greater good. I don't regret them."
"I only regret some of what I did," Mason corrected.
"I don't begrudge you for being cruel to the rapists," I admitted, noticing the iciness in my voice, "But I think that it's still in everyone's best interest that human society learns to deal with its own deviants."
"The outcome of your family's experimentation saved lives," he countered in parallel, "Keep in mind that there are plenty of experiments conducted by humans that furthered scientific and medical knowledge while simultaneously violating codes of ethics."
"That doesn't make it right."
"No. But we can only do better from here, so let us both make the attempt."
I nodded mutely, running my thumb over his in a soothing circle.