The Golden Raven (All for the Game #5)

CHAPTER ONE

J ean

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F riday morning practice started with a brief team meeting. As each Trojan arrived, one of the coaches was on hand to redirect them to the huddle rooms. Whichever one has seats was the only directive they received, but for the most part the players segregated themselves by offense and defense out of habit.

Unsurprisingly, striker Ananya Deshmukh had eschewed the status quo to sit with Cody Winter and her fianc Patrick Toppings, both of whom were backliners. Movement in the doorway had her looking up to check the newest arrivals, and her jaw dropped when she saw Jean Moreau s battered face.

Good lord, she said, too loudly, and all eyes swung his way.

Catalina Alvarez briefly pressed a shoulder against his arm, but Jean didn t care if they looked. He d been a bruised and bloodied mess most of his career with the Ravens. His former teammates were quick to mock him and quicker to take advantage of his weakened state on the court, but they knew better than to ask questions. Most of them assumed his injuries were due to the master s displeasure, especially since the perfect Court was called away daily for private sessions. Whether or not they truly believed it or simply refused to think critically of their beloved captain, Jean would never know.

We left you alone for twelve hours, Pat said. Did you get hit by a car or something?

A stupid question deserved a stupid answer, so Jean said, Yes.

We re going to talk about it, I m sure, Jeremy Knox said. He d preceded Jean into the room, but now he was half-turned to study Jean s distant expression. He said nothing else, but Jean saw the question in his searching look. Jean didn t waste his breath responding but stepped toward him and sent one last glance around the room. Lucas Johnson and his friends were yet to make an appearance, but as far as Jean could tell the rest of the defense line was accounted for.

The room was arranged as five rows of five seats each, with a table at the front for Coach Jimenez to use as needed. Sophomores William Foster and Jesus Rivera were in the first row with the over-eager freshmen, though they were now all turned to unabashedly stare at Jean. Cody s lot had claimed the second row, and fifth-year Shawn Anderson was in the fourth with Shane Reed. Those two had nothing to say yet, but their stares were heavy and unwavering. Jean s injuries only benefited one of them, the man whose spot he planned on taking this season, so Jean didn t waste his time returning their searching looks.

Jeremy led Jean and Cat down the third row so he could take a seat behind Ananya. Cat gave Cody s shaved hair an affectionate scritch when she ended up behind them, but Cody was too busy staring at Jean to greet her. The three had just gotten settled when Laila Dermott arrived. She d detoured by the lockers alone to put their lunch away, but now she took the chair on Cat s other side and said, Lucas is here.

It was a split-second warning before Lucas finally stepped through the doorway, and the entire mood in the room shifted. Shane was on his feet immediately with an alarmed, Jesus Christ, Lucas.

The hours since Grayson s visit had been unkind to them both: reddened skin and faint shadows had bloomed into technicolored bruises that covered too much of their faces. Both of Lucas s eyes were blackened, courtesy of his broken nose, and Jean had long scratches down his face from cruel fingernails. Lucas hadn t bothered to cover anything up, and Jean had only slowed long enough this morning to tape new gauze over the teeth marks left on his throat and wrist.

This has to stop, Shane said, looking between them. You re teammates, for god s sake.

Shane, Jeremy started, but Lucas beat him to the punch:

We didn t do this, Lucas said as he led Travis Jordan and Haoyu Liu onto the fourth row. Because Shane and Shawn had gotten there first, it forced Lucas into the open seat behind Jean. Jean didn t feel like turning far enough to keep an eye on him, so he folded his arms across his chest and faced the front of the room. Lucas stopped behind him but didn t sit until he corrected himself with a quieter, He didn t. I did.

What s that supposed to mean? Shane asked. Jeremy? Jean?

Jeremy was still turned enough to see the door, so he just said, Coach.

Eduardo Jimenez entered the room with Jackie Lisinski only a few steps behind him. Since neither James Rhemann nor Michael White showed up, Jean assumed they were handling the other room. Lisinski s face was a thundercloud, but Jimenez s expression was harder to read. The defensive line coach did a quick headcount before slapping a folder against his palm.

Good morning, he said. Couple quick announcements and then we ll get you back on track. First things first: Lucas and Jean will be on no-touch jerseys until further notice and will not be participating in scrimmages today.

Cat s hand on his knee was meant to be reassuring, but Jean only felt the warning in it. He had a half-second to hope the coaches didn t see his reaction to the news, but of course they had. Jimenez met Jean s guarded stare and said only, We will evaluate your progress daily and upgrade you when it is safe to do so. This is nonnegotiable.

Jean couldn t argue, so he bit the inside of his cheek to bleeding and thought, No. He d spent all week with that jersey as an unwelcome noose around his neck. Today should have been his last day suffering its restrictions. Instead they d pushed him three steps back and off the court completely.

If you do not have this number saved to your phone, please add it at this time, Lisinski said as she turned and scribbled on the whiteboard. She underlined the phone number twice, capped her marker, and rapped her fingernails on the board as she surveyed the room. This is the line for campus security. We will have an escort while we are at Lyon, and you will notice their increased presence in the area when you are dismissed for lunch.

Jimenez flipped open his folder at last and pulled out a full-page color photograph of Grayson Johnson s face. The head-on shot and dark background made Jean think they d taken it from the Ravens promotional site. Even in a picture Grayson radiated malevolence, and Jean averted his gaze from the man s piercing stare.

If you see this man anywhere on campus, you are to report to campus security first and any of us second, Jimenez said. I don t care if he s asking you for directions, I don t care if you just see him tying his shoe on a corner. You even think it s him, you dial it in. Do you understand?

Wait, Ananya said, leaning forward to stare hard at the photograph. Uncertainty slowed her down, but Jean could hear her figuring it out as she struggled with her memory: I know that face. That s a Raven. That s-oh, she said, turning to stare at Lucas. The brothers were a few years apart, and Grayson carried more weight and rage than Lucas ever would, but the similarities were still too glaring to be ignored. That s your brother, isn t it? Gray?

Grayson, Lucas agreed, sounding defeated. He came up to Los Angeles yesterday looking for Jean. Said he just wanted to talk, but- He swallowed so hard Jean heard it. Somehow Lucas had the common sense to boil Grayson s violence down to the weakest truth: He tried to kill Jean.

Both of you, looks like, Shawn said.

He didn t care about me. He was just mad that I got in the way, but I couldn t do anything to stop him. If Coach L hadn t shown up, he... Lucas trailed off.

Jean wasn t interested in revisiting this conversation so soon, but the quiet horror in Lucas s voice had him picking at his bandages. Of course you couldn t handle him, he said, with enough annoyance to earn a pained look from Jeremy. The only one who could ever take Grayson in a fight was-

The answer snagged in his throat unexpectedly, sharpened to something unrecognizable in the wake of yesterday s attack. He d cut his tongue to shreds if he forced it out, but it echoed in his ears louder than his own heartbeat. Zane.

Zane Reacher, who d promised to protect him from Grayson s violence and who d fought tooth and nail for years to ensure he would always be better when it mattered most. Zane, who d wanted so badly to be perfect Court that Jean couldn t help but trust him, who could ve easily thrown Grayson out of their room at any point once he knew Jean got the message but who d only rolled over and told them to keep it down.

For a moment Jean was months away from here, on his knees in desperate supplication. He heard his voice cracking in the air as he begged Riko to finally number Zane; he felt his bloodied fingers slide against Riko s wrist. More than anything he remembered the look in Riko s eyes: the cold amusement at Jean s unsolicited debasement withering into deadly malice the moment Riko realized Jean was more afraid of their sudden alliance than he was Riko s potential retribution. He should have beaten Jean for forgetting who his King was. Instead, he d made Jean watch as he turned Zane and Grayson against each other.

His stomach roiled; his mouth burned as he forced back a rush of acid. Jean carved lines into his forearm to find his center. Jeremy caught his wrist to stop him, and Jean forced his gaze to the far wall. The pale paint with its bright designs was a blinding difference from the Nest and a keen reminder he was as far from West Virginia as he could go. Riko was dead, Zane had graduated, and Grayson would have to leave California tomorrow for the Ravens summer practices.

The new silence in the locker room was uncomfortable, but Jimenez finally said, If any of you see him, do not under any circumstance approach him. Understood? Any questions? All right. Thank you, I ll turn you over to Lisinski. Coach?

Let s get moving, Lisinski said, clapping her hands. I want everyone dressed and ready to run in five.

The other meeting had gotten out before them, as it hadn t been derailed by sidebar conversation. Prying stares followed Lucas and Jean as the defensemen headed for their lockers. The raucous morning chatter that echoed off these walls all week was gone today, replaced by a heavy and morose silence that sat like a too-familiar weight against Jean s bones.

The warmup lap around campus was eerily quiet, and Lisinski split them into the usual groups once they arrived at Lyon. She would rotate between them as needed, checking progress here and pushing harder there, and Jean was not at all surprised when she started with Xavier s small team. That she checked on the freshmen first was a see-through pretense. It didn t take her long to make it to his side.

Lisinski watched with a heavy-lidded stare as Jean went through his shoulder presses, studying the smoothness of the motion. Jean felt the twinge in his wrist almost immediately, but he was familiar enough with pain to know this discomfort was all surface level. He kept his expression calm and his gaze averted from his coach, and eventually she moved on. Jean waited until she d crossed the room to the seniors before digging a thumb into the aching heat in his wrist.

It was just a split-second of weakness, but it was more than enough to summon Xavier to his side. Here.

Jean took the proffered bottle, but a glance at the label made him tense. Who let you have this?

Xavier didn t immediately answer, and he made no move to take the bottle back when Jean thrust it toward him. Lisinski s back was mostly to them, but if she turned even a little, she d have a clear line of sight on them. There d be hell to pay if she realized Xavier was carrying medication, and Jean was not about to take a beating for something that wasn t his problem. Since Xavier refused to take it from him, Jean leaned over and set it out of sight behind the machine. He went back to his set, but Xavier didn t leave.

Friend, Xavier said at last, it s just ibuprofen.

I can read, Jean said.

Xavier was unmoved by his irritation. And you know what it is? He put both hands up at the mean look Jean sent him. It was not the calming gesture he probably hoped it was, maybe because Xavier looked halfway to helpless laughter. I ve never seen anyone react like that before. Is it a controlled substance in West Virginia or something?

He said it with easy humor, but Jean thought about the clipboard hanging on Josiah Smalls office door at Evermore. Anyone who wanted medication outside of being immediately treated for an injury had to put in a written request, and Josiah would approve it if he was feeling charitable. Ibuprofen was always his go-to, as useless as it generally was. Jean knew he had stronger pills in stock, but for the most part those were saved for Riko himself. Not cost effective to coddle the rest of the team, Jean assumed, since the Ravens were endlessly injured. Certainly not worth it to waste that medicine on Jean.

Unbidden he thought of the pills Abby Winfield gave him in South Carolina. The name had been far too long and complicated to retain, but Jean remembered the easy way it sank through him to send him under. Jean wouldn t think about how freely Abby dispensed it to someone who wasn t even technically her problem and who d never once thanked her for her trouble.

There was a warning twinge in his chest, warning him not to follow this road back to the Ravens. Why was too deadly a question to ask, especially when it came to Edgar Allan.

I was joking, Xavier said when the silence stretched too long. He wasn t smiling anymore, and Jean knew better than to meet his searching stare. After a beat Xavier put the bottle away, motioned to him, and turned away. Watch this. Emma, Mads, he called, and the freshmen immediately paused their chatter to face him. You girls have ibuprofen on you?

Left it in my locker, sorry, Emma Swift said, but Madeline Hill was already rummaging through the coin purse she d brought with her from the stadium. The bottle she withdrew was slimmer than the one Xavier owned, but even with three machines between them Jean could see the matching color scheme. She tossed it over, and Xavier made a show of skimming the label.

Thanks, he said as he returned it. Couldn t remember if it was four or six hours.

Oh, sure, Mads said as she put it away again.

Xavier cocked an eyebrow at Jean, a silent but unmistakable See? that did nothing to quell the churning in Jean s stomach. Xavier gave a jerk of his chin. Walk with me a sec, he said, and Jean didn t have the right to refuse him. They attracted a couple curious looks as they crossed the room, but they made it to the water fountains across the room uncontested. Xavier took a quick drink before holding the medicine out again.

Here, he said. You keep this one. I ll pick up another tonight.

Jean couldn t stop himself, and even he heard the edge in his, Just like that. It was too late to take it back, and the keen look on Xavier s face said the other man wasn t going to let it slide. You ll just go and replace it like it s nothing.

It is nothing. It s an over-the-counter drug. Got it from the grocery store for a couple bucks. Why would anyone think twice about me having some on hand? A rhetorical question, apparently, because Xavier didn t wait before saying, Making me a little uncomfortable that you re so riled up about this, if I m being honest. What on earth did they give you when you sprained your LCL?

Jean picked at his bandages. His gaze went unbidden to his bare forearms, but the telltale bruises and rashes of ragged restraints were long gone. All that was left were the angry lines he d put there this morning. If it was any other teammate, Jean would simply ignore the question until he was left alone, but Xavier was his vice-captain. He considered lying instead, but the only answer to come to mind was the very medicine Xavier was so dismissive of. The truth was a hideous thing to put into words, but maybe some ugliness would finally get Xavier out of his business.

Nothing, he finally said.

Xavier s face went dangerously blank. Come again?

It wasn t their problem, Jean said.

Between one heartbeat and the next he was back in Riko s shadowed room, so much blood in his throat he could barely breathe. He reached unbidden for his head, looking for the spots where his hair was still uneven. Even now most of that night was a horrific haze he refused to dwell on. He didn t remember Riko stopping; he didn t remember Riko storming out of there and leaving Jean a crumpled mess in his wake. Maybe Riko realized he was going to kill Jean if he didn t retreat, or maybe he d simply seen the time and known he was due on the court for practice. It didn t matter which. It didn t. It couldn t.

The urge to smack the medicine out of Xavier s hand was sudden and violent, and Jean dug his nails into his scratched arm to stop himself. He dragged himself out of dark memories and said, I convalesced in South Carolina. My treatment was the Foxes responsibility. You would have to ask their nurse what she prescribed if it matters that much to you.

I don t care about the Foxes. You were injured in West Virginia. You can t tell me you went from Edgar Allan to Palmetto State without any treatment or care. Jean , Xavier tried, a hint of desperation sneaking into his voice when Jean stared past him toward the far wall. Tell me I m misunderstanding you.

I still have sets to do, Jean said instead. Are we done?

No, we re not, Xavier said, disbelieving. Where is your rage?

He d asked as much on Monday, going so far as to call Jean unexpectedly docile. Jean curled his lip a little in displeasure and demanded, What reason do I have to be angry? I am Jean Moreau; I am perfect Court. Ravens understand the cost of being the best, and we are not afraid to pay it.

We , Xavier said, gesturing sharply between them, are Trojans. Don t you ever we the Ravens again, you hear me? They do not deserve you.

Neither does a team who can t win first.

Xavier s jaw worked with everything else he wanted to say. Listen, he said at last. Jean turned toward the other man, but it took Xavier another moment before he spoke. You don t want me in your business, I get it, but hear me when I say this: if you re hurting, we re hurting. If you won t let us help you, we need to know you are taking care of yourself. Okay?

They weren t the right words, but it was close enough to your failure is our failure that Jean hesitated. Yes.

If you won t take this from me, at least get something from the nurses when we get back to the stadium. Xavier gave him a last chance to take the bottle before pocketing it for good. We re so close to having you on the line at full strength. Don t let a little recklessness put you back on the sidelines.

I am not reckless, Jean said.

I m going to trust you. Don t make me regret it.

Xavier left Jean to his own devices for the remainder of the workout, but Jean didn t miss the way his smile didn t sit quite right as he chatted with the Trojans enthusiastic freshmen. So long as Xavier stayed out of his way, Jean was willing to return the favor, but getting the conversation and his wretched memories out of his head again was impossible.

Threaded through Xavier s dismayed Where is your rage? was Jeremy s quieter You re not angry about what really matters from this past May. How easily they spoke of outrage, this team that refused to fight. How hypocritical, how exhausting. What did these easygoing children know about anger?

Equally irritating was how hard it was to focus this morning. He d spent years burying the worst Evermore had thrown at him, chaining down anything he could and forcibly moving past what he couldn t. He d been teammates with Grayson for too many years to be this rattled a day later. But even as he tipped in and out of bloody memories, he knew there was no easy way past this. If he stopped thinking about Grayson, he d have to think about yesterday s other visitors, and that was a road Jean refused to go down. It was too much to bear; the grief and horror would surely break him in half.

At long last they were done with the morning workout. The Trojans jogged back to the stadium for quick rinse-off showers before Lisinski dismissed them for lunch. As usual, Jean finished first and went to wait on the bench near Jeremy s locker. That turned out to be a mistake, as most of the offense line had been with the dealers in a different meeting room this morning. Only their youngest had seen Jean at the gym. The remaining five were getting a close-up of Jean for the first time today.

Derek Thompson, who d ridiculously introduced himself as Big D on Monday to the freshmen, was the first to arrive. He worked a brush over his tight curls as he contemplated Jean and finally offered a, You don t look so hot, as Derrick Allen joined them. Derek nudged his partner to get his attention but directed his words toward Jean. True you re out of scrimmages this afternoon?

Yes, Jean said.

Good news for you, since you still haven t figured out how to handle him, Derrick said with unrepentant cheer. He s gonna kick your ass next week, just watch.

Jean expected bravado, but Derek only said, Yeah, probably. Would be better if it happened today. Derrick seemed equally surprised by the honesty, but Derek jabbed his brush in Jean s direction before setting it in his locker. Look at him, tense enough to make me uptight by proxy.

Nice SAT word, Ashton Cox said as he wandered past them to get dressed.

Getting too smart for this crew, right? Derek tapped a finger to his temple. I m just saying, throwing someone through the court wall would probably fix him. It d be good practice for White Ridge, too.

You just want to fight someone your size, Derrick said, as if he wasn t nearly six feet himself. If you get Coach L to sign off on it, I call next.

And me, Nabil Mahmoud said as he arrived, then asked, What are we calling for?

Derek wants Jean to go feral, Derrick said.

Jeremy made it over in time to hear that comment, and it was enough to stop him at the end of the row. I d rather we don t go down that road, he said, looking from one teammate to the next. Jean agreed to play the game our way this season. Asking him to bring Raven violence to summer practices when he ll be held to a different standard in August is unfair.

Not trying to set him back, cap, Derek said, but he s got the same look my brother gets before he does something stupid.

I am not stupid, Jean said.

No, I didn t- Derek faltered and asked Jeremy, How good is his English, again?

Better than your French, Jean said, with enough of an edge Derek put his hands up in self-defense. Good enough to tell you your failures in our scrimmages this week are on your weaknesses and not my strengths. You ve wasted so much time giving ground as a Trojan you don t remember how to hold it. It should be no surprise your opponents can run you over like an unwanted dog.

Whoa, whoa. Why re we hurting dogs? Timothy Eitzen asked as he appeared at Jeremy s elbow, and Jean gave up on the entire line as a lost cause.

He pushed past all of them on the way to the backliners row again, but the sight of so many teammates gathered there wearied him. Ridiculous that a locker room so big and bright could feel more suffocating today than the Nest, but Jean turned and kept going. He stalked from one huddle room to the next, steering clear of the coaches hall and ending up near the nurses offices. He pressed his thumb to his wrist, looking for an ache that had faded before they d even made it back from Lyon.

During the summer the Trojans three nurses alternated who was on duty: one remained at the stadium while the other two filled shifts at the campus health center. Today Ashley Young was on-site. Jean hadn t realized the room had a radio, but Young was bobbing her fork in time to the beat as she flipped through files one-handed. The realization he was interrupting her lunch had him taking a step back out of sight, but she must have seen movement in her peripheral vision.

Come on in, she called, and Jean braced as he moved back into the doorway.

She finished skimming her page before looking up, and realization startled her into a moment of stillness. Oh, she said as she pushed her lunch aside and flicked the radio off. Jean, I m glad you stopped by. Come next door with me.

They moved to the same room Rhemann had put Jean in yesterday, and Young took quick stock of his stained face and jaw. She had the authority to simply rip his bandages off, but Young only pressed careful fingertips to the tape and asked, Do you mind?

You are my nurse, Jean said.

She peeled it free in one steady move and dropped the gauze into the nearby bin. She looked her fill while Jean contemplated the same photograph he d studied yesterday. The antiseptic didn't sting nearly as much today, and Young waited until she d covered his injuries up again before trying to catch his eye. Jean feigned not to notice, but it didn t stop her from asking,

Do you want to talk about it?

There is nothing to talk about.

No? Young s fingers dropped unerringly to the violent scratch marks on his arm. This is not a solution, Jean. I don t want to see this from you again.

She gave him a moment to defend himself before setting to work on his wrist. Jean let her test his range, silently hoping her vote in his favor would override the coaches decision to sideline him, but the dull ache from this morning s weight routine was quick to make an appearance. Young s expression was grim as she traced the line of scabs. Grayson had bitten him with every intention of breaking bones, and he d gotten dangerously close to the delicate veins in Jean s wrist.

You were very lucky, she said, like she d read his thoughts. She wrapped his wrist with easy efficiency and dug a brace out of the nearby cabinet. Jean balked at the sight of it, but she slid it over his hand and into place even as he tried to pull away. She pressed the Velcro straps into place, said, Test it? and made a few quick adjustments as he slowly flexed and clenched his fingers. Good. Do you have anything for the inflammation?

Xavier told me to ask you, Jean said.

She accepted that with an easy nod and rummaged through a drawer. We ll start with this, she said as she pressed a packet of two pills into his palm. Check back with me before you leave for the day. If it s not helping, I ll send you home with something stronger to take this weekend. Anything else we need to address? She waited for his refusal before stepping out of his way. Go eat, then. I ll see you this afternoon.

He hadn t been gone for more than ten minutes, but the locker room had cleared out for lunch in his absence. Only his friends and Xavier remained, waiting on the strikers row with the lunchbox by Cat s feet. Xaiver s agitated tone carried even if his words didn t, and when he followed Jeremy s gaze to Jean, he went quiet and still.

When Jean reached them, Xavier offered a polite, Good work this morning, before setting off toward the door.

Jean waited for him to leave. He is angry with me.

No, Jeremy said, and when Jean wasn t convinced, emphasized, No, I promise he s not. He s just concerned. You told him Edgar Allan wouldn t treat your LCL?

He asked, Jean said.

Oh, he is so mad at them, Cat said. She scooped up the lunchbox and got to her feet. Come on! It s too nice a day to eat inside. Let s have a picnic.

Up the street and across from the football stadium was a museum with a grassy lawn. A group of kids had claimed most of the available space and were running wild while their parents watched. Backpacks and bottled drinks were scattered along the curb where a half-dozen teenagers were skateboarding in the street. Despite the chaos there was plenty of room for the four of them, and Cat passed out lunches after they were settled.

They were only a few bites in when Jeremy s phone made a sound Jean hadn t yet heard. Cat hooted and planted herself against Jeremy s shoulder.

Bishop? Cat asked.

Jeremy s correction was distracted as he considered his texts. Sheldon.

Laila was sprawled spreadeagled on the grass on Cat s other side, but she poked her sunglasses up to her forehead so she could squint at Jeremy in obvious disapproval. Last I heard, he told you to lose his number. Why didn t you? Jeremy s smile was so slow and satisfied Jean had to look away. Laila huffed and slid her sunglasses back into place. Never mind, I don t actually want the answer to that.

Oh! Cat slapped her fist into her palm. Isn t he the one with the huge-

Laila swiped at her. Cat .

Cat rolled her eyes but obediently changed what she d been saying. Should we skedaddle?

Skedaddle, Jean echoed.

Cat turned on him, eyes bright with mirth. Oh, please say that again.

Jean scowled, and Laila took pity on him. Leave.

Get the hell out of dodge, Cat agreed, which was a less helpful response. She shifted out of Jeremy s space and waved a curious gnat away from her half-eaten lunch. You never told us what your second language is. German? Spanish? Uhhh. Italian? She scrunched up her face in thought but gave up only moments later. Give me a hint, I don t know anything about the European education system.

Irrelevant. I was homeschooled.

Explains the dire lack of socialization skills, Cat said.

I had youth Exy, he said, which was and wasn t true.

The Exy court at Campagne Pastr was about ten minutes from his home in Sainte-Anne, an easy enough drive for his mother to make once she vetted the families of the other kids on the team. He d been forbidden to mingle with his teammates outside of practices and games, and he d known better than to talk to them about anything but Exy. His mother drove the point home early by killing off his first captain and her entire family. A boating accident, he thought-the memory was vague, but the lesson had stuck.

His only other contact with the outside world was the Japanese tutor his mother hired on his eighth birthday. She came by the house every evening to work with him, and although he d known there was an ulterior motive he d been unable to separate the language from the sport he loved playing. He was thirteen before she was allowed to start him on English. Jean had resented those extra lessons until he was sold off to the Nest a year later. Communicating with Kevin and his new masters had been easy; learning English via the Ravens had been a nightmare and a half.

Avoiding the question, Cat said. Again.

The first was never answered. Jean looked toward Jeremy.

Huh? Oh, no. He won t be in town until Sunday. Jeremy had his phone halfway to his pocket when it started ringing. He spared a glance for the caller ID before putting it to his ear with an upbeat, Hey, Coach. Yeah, Jean s with me. We re just up- Jeremy went so silent and still even Laila sat up to stare at him, but Jeremy didn t seem to notice. He listened for a minute, then gestured frantically to his friends to pack it up. Yeah, yes, we re on our way back right now. Do you know-okay. Okay.

Laila turned this way and that, looking for the lunchbox they d set aside, and froze to stare. Fuck, she said, too loudly. Jeremy, we have a problem.

Jean half-turned to follow her gaze, but the only new addition to the area was a pair of police cars with their lights on. The teenagers who d been playing in the street retreated to the lawn at their approach, yelling at each other to move faster and clinging to their boards. Instead of passing, the cars pulled up to the curb. Four officers got out only a few moments later, but they didn t even spare the tense teens a second look on their way toward the Trojans.

Jean, Jeremy said, with unexpected urgency. Jean obediently turned back toward him, but Jeremy was looking past him at the police. The shuttered look on Jeremy s face made him a stranger, but Jeremy pressed on even as he got to his feet and dusted off his shorts. It s Grayson.

Jean sucked in a slow breath through clenched teeth. He s here?

No, Jeremy said. He s dead.