Oblivion

Energy crackled over my skin, humming, and the urge to slip back into my true form was hard to ignore. And that pissed me off. Home was the only place that I—that we could be ourselves without fear of discovery, and those assholes—the Department of Defense, the D-O-fucking-D—knew it.

My fingers curled into my palms.

Vaughn and Lane, my own personal government-issued babysitters, had to have been aware of this. It must’ve slipped their damn minds when they checked in on us last week.

The passenger door of the Prius creaked open, drawing my attention. At first, I couldn’t see who got out, but then she walked around the front of the car, coming completely into view.

“Oh shit,” I muttered again.

It was a girl.

From what I could see, she was close to my age, maybe a year younger, and as she turned in a slow circle, staring at the forest that crept onto the lawn around the two houses, she looked like she expected a rabid mountain lion to pounce on her.

Her steps were tentative as she neared the porch, as if she was still debating if she really wanted to walk into the house. The woman, who I was guessing was her mom based on the similar dark hair, had left the front door open. The girl stopped at the bottom of the steps.

I sized her up as I drifted silently through the trees. She appeared of average height. Actually, everything about her seemed average—her dark brown hair, pulled back from her face in a messy knot; her pale, roundish face; her average weight—definitely not one of those ski

Damn, they were nice legs.

The girl turned around, facing the forest as her arms folded along her waist, just below her chest.

Okay. Two areas in particular were not average.

She sca

But there was no way she could see me. I was too hidden among the shadows.

A handful of seconds passed before she unfolded her arms and turned, slowly heading into the house, leaving the door wide open behind her.

“Mom?”

My head cocked to the side at the sound of her voice, which was also…average. No real discernible accent or indication of where they came from.

Wherever it was, they must have no sense of personal safety, since neither of them thought to close the door behind them. Then again, around these parts, most humans believed they were completely safe. After all, the town of Ketterman, located just outside of Petersburg, West Virginia, wasn’t even incorporated. Deputies spent more time chasing after roaming cattle and breaking up field parties than handling any real crime.

Even though humans did have a nasty habit of going missing around here.

The smirk twisting my lips faded as an image of Dawson formed in my thoughts. Not just humans…

When I thought of my brother, anger bubbled inside me, rushing to the surface like a volcano about to erupt. He was gone—dead because of a human girl. And now there was another damn one moving in next door.

We had to…simulate humans, blend among them, and even act like them, but being close to them always ended in disaster.

Always ended in someone missing or dead.

I had no idea how long I stood there, staring at the house, but the girl eventually appeared again. Pulled out of my thoughts, I straightened as she walked to the back of the U-Haul. She dug a key out of her pocket and then opened the metal door.

Or tried.

And tried some more.

She struggled with the lock and then with the lever for what had to be the longest amount of time in history. Her cheeks were flushed, lips pursed. She looked like she was seconds from kicking the back of the U-Haul. Good God, how long did it take one person to open a trailer door? She made it a marathon event. I was half tempted to make myself known and walk my ass over there and open the damn door for her.

Finally, after an eternity, she opened the trailer and pulled down the ramp. She disappeared in and reappeared moments later with a box. I watched her carry it in and then return again. Back up the ramp, she stumbled down it this time, carrying a box that had to weigh more than her by the strained look on her face.

She shuffled around the trailer, and even from where I stood, I could see her arms trembling. I closed my eyes, irritated over…everything. She’d made it to the steps, and I knew there was no way she was going to get the box up that porch without falling and possibly breaking her neck.

I raised my brows.

If she broke her neck, then I guessed that solved the whole “moving in next door” problem.

One foot made it onto the bottom step and she teetered to one side. If she fell then, she would be okay. She made it up another step, and my stomach growled. Damn, I was hungry even though I’d eaten about ten pancakes an hour ago.

She was almost to the top of the steps, and granted, if she fell, she wasn’t going to break her neck. Maybe an arm? A leg would be pushing it. As she planted a foot on the next step and then slowly lifted the other foot beside it, I was reluctantly impressed by her sheer determination to muscle that box into the house. When she wobbled dangerously at the top, I muttered a rather obscene list of curse words and raised my hand.

Zeroing in on the box in her hands, I tapped into the Source. In my mind, I focused on raising the box just the slightest, taking the brunt of the weight off her arms. She stopped on the porch just for the tiniest of seconds, as if she recognized the change, and then with a shake of her head, she walked into the house.

Slowly, I lowered my hand, somewhat shocked by what I had done. There was no way she could ever guess that some random dude standing in the woods was responsible for that, but man, that was still a dumbass move on my part.

There was always the risk of exposure whenever we used the Source, no matter how insignificant it was.

The girl reappeared again on the porch, her cheeks bright pink from the work so far, and headed back to the cargo container as she wiped her hands along her denim shorts. Once again, she stumbled out of the trailer with a box of death in her arms, and I had to wonder: where in the hell was her mother?

The girl’s step faltered and the obviously heavy box rattled. Glass was inside.

And because I was competing for world’s biggest dumbass, I stayed out there, in the trees, stomach grumbling like a damn engine, and helped her carry in box after box without her even knowing.

By the time she/we finished hauling every last item into her house, I was wiped, starving, and certain I’d risked tapping into the Source enough to get my damn head examined. I hauled my tired ass up the steps to my house and slipped inside quietly. No one else was around tonight, and I was too exhausted to cook, so I gulped down half a gallon of milk and then passed out on the couch.

My last thought was of my a

Night had fallen, and thick clouds, dark and impenetrable, blocked out the stars and covered the moon, squelching even the tiniest amount of light. No one could see me. Which was probably a good thing.

Especially considering I was standing outside the once-empty house like a total creeper in one of those true-crime shows—yet again. So much for my never-see-the-chick-again plan.

This was quickly becoming a disturbing habit. I tried to argue with myself that it was necessary. I needed to know more about our new neighbor before my twin sister, Dee, spotted her and decided they were go