Free The Otherworldlies by Jennifer Anne Kogler

something that wasn’t the floor. She stumbled and cried out. She was soon able to see what she had tripped over. Sam had managed to sneak into her room and had crouched beside her bed. He held his head in his hands and grimaced as he stood up.
    “What are you doing? I’m not a human step stool!” Sam spoke in a fierce whisper, wondering if his mother had been awakened by Fern’s yelping.
    “You scared me half to death, Sam!” Fern whispered back. She took one look at her brother in the faint glow of her reading light and cupped her hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter. “What are you wearing?” Sam stood before her in camouflage pants, a black turtleneck, and a black leather hat with earflaps. He looked like Elmer Fudd on his way to a funeral.
    “I’m going to hide while you meet with the note writer. I’ll only come out if I need to, you know, go under cover.”
    Fern shook her head in disbelief, forgetting all about the potential danger that awaited her in the grove. Moments like these, when Sam tried his best to take on the role of the strong male protector of the household, cracked Fern up.
    “Are you going to wave your earflaps at them if they make trouble?”
    “Never mind,” Sam said, annoyed at his sister for belittling his efforts.
    The two siblings were silent for a few minutes, letting the situation sink in. Neither had any idea who or what was waiting for them in the grove. Sam hoped it was answers. Fern hoped she wasn’t putting her brother in danger—she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to him.
    “The Commander came in and talked to me about my ‘inappropriate’ behavior with Mr. Summers,” Sam said. “She came down pretty hard on me.”
    “You were acting a little psychotic,” Fern said.
    “I wasn’t that bad,” Sam said.
    “Yeah? You looked like you were ready to bite his hand off.”
    “Whatever,” Sam said, feeling a little guilty but trying not to show it. “Hey, is that what you’re wearing?” Sam scrutinized his sister’s outfit. She was wearing flannel pants with clouds all over them and an old Anaheim Angels shirt she’d inherited from Eddie.
    “I’m going to put flip-flops on,” she said. Sam walked to her bedroom window and lifted it open. Cool night air rushed into Fern’s room. Her stomach contracted with pain, almost as if the air triggered it. She doubled over.
    “You okay?” Sam said.
    “Yeah. I’m just looking for my other flip-flop,” Fern said, unwilling to give Sam another reason to worry about her.
    Midnight was fast approaching.
    “You’re wearing both of your flip-flops, idiot.”
    Sam reached out the open window to the jacaranda branch just outside. He swung his skinny legs and feet over the windowsill and fell forward, so he was crouching on the branch with both his legs and arms wrapped around it. The branch let out a slow creak as it bent under Sam’s added weight. Slithering along the branch till he got to the trunk, Sam looked precarious as he made his way down the jacaranda. He slipped down the tree and finally hit the grass with a soft thud .
    Fern followed her brother, nimbly crawling from one branch to another. She had climbed up and down this jacaranda for much of her life—scrambling down its maze of branches and trunk was her preferred way of exiting the McAllister house. In the spring, when the tree was in bloom, she’d constantly be told she had bits of tree in her hair. No matter how hard she’d tried, she could never pick out all the lavender blue flowers. She was down in half the time it’d taken Sam.
    The Salt and Pepper Twins faced the quiet street. Sam wished he’d thought to bring a flashlight with him. Fern longed for a sweatshirt. Silent, they made their way down to the grove under the flickering orange light of the suburban energy-saving street lamps. Walking quickly, they had reached the corner of Acacia Avenue and La Limonar when the crackling of breaking twigs stopped the