Free Taken By Storm by Emmie Mears Page B

brought her our food, like what we eat."
    The thought of norms eating raw meat by the pound makes my stomach turn a bit. "This is helpful, Jax."
    "It was the same for our mother," Evis chimes in, as if he doesn't want to be left out of being called helpful. "She was in a tornado shelter. I remember — she remembered — hearing the sirens. They were loud because they were attached right outside."
    It occurs to me that I've never asked Evis about the timeline of all of this. It's more of a pulling need in my gut than curiosity that makes me ask now. "When was this?"
    "Right when the trees started to bloom."
    His answer makes me start. Spring. He must have been one of the first. I think back to Hazel Lottie's shelves. Which of those keepsakes belonged to Eve Storme? I must have looked right at it.  
    "When did Gregor find you?" I don't think I want to know the answer to this.  
    "Right after I was born." Evis won't look at me. Maybe he smells the anxiety that twists my stomach.
    I close my eyes, swallowing the tinny saliva that's filled my mouth along with as much nervousness as I can make go down.
    Gregor had Evis in his clutches before he ever came to me about Lena Saturn's disappearance.  
    I go to Evis and put my arms around him. I don't need to say anything.  
    Jax said something more helpful than I think he knows. Arm still around my brother's shoulders, I look at Jax. "You said they brought your mother raw meat."
    He nods.
    "This was all a group of people, right? Hells-zealots and not hellkin?"
    He nods again.
    "What kind of meat, ground hamburger? Store bought stuff?"
    Jax pauses, thinking. "It came wrapped up in paper. Big piles of it. They never froze it. They brought it fresh every day."
    I turn my head to look at Evis. "What about for our mother?"
    "Same," he says.  
    "Wrapped in paper." I pause. "Why?"
    "They said it had to be the best."
    Carrick is already reaching for the phone book on the breakfast bar, flipping to the B section.  
    Time for us to look up some butchers.  

    For once, the money Alamea dumped into my bank account actually does some good. When we all travel into Hopkinsville together, I pull a thousand bucks from my account and we hit up the town's only meat processing facility, a well-kept compound southeast of the town center. The white sided buildings are clean and gleaming, and the main retail area is grey with red checkers down the cinderblock corners.  
    Before I get out of the car, I plait my hair and tuck it up under itself, pulling a blue bandana over it like I'm about to go homestead on the motherfucking prairie. It doesn't fully disguise the color, but hopefully it'll allow me to go into the shop without anyone looking too closely at me. That is, if they don't pull the fire alarm at the mere sight of my eyes.  
    There's not a cloud in the sky, and the parking lot sports a few cars, an old pickup that would be right at home in Ripper's driveway, and a shiny red convertible that looks lost.  
    Inside, I can almost feel the shades mouths begin to water. It smells like blood and steak.  
    We take a number and wait, Carrick and the others unobtrusively looking over an announcement board and trying not to make eye contact with anyone but each other.  
    When my number is called, I head up to the counter. The woman on the other side of it looks like a born and bred rancher, her blonde hair the color of sun baked straw and about the same texture, pulled back in a ponytail tight enough that at its length, it almost sticks straight out behind her. Her eyes are creased from smiling, and her hands wear years of weathered use in their cracks.  
    "What can I get for y'all?" Her voice runs counter to her textured appearance, soft and gentle as a fluffy spring lamb.
    "I was wondering if I could ask you a couple questions. I'm a Mediator, and I'm looking for a real son-bitch of a baddie. This person's been feeding hellkin big amounts of meat, and I think they've been buying it here."
    The