“You wanna know what my parents would say?” she asked rhetorically as Maxwell nodded. “Demons do emit smells. I’ve heard them talk about it a lot. But those odors are horrid, sulfuric, the essence of evil mixed with rotten fish and baby diapers. Demons don’t smell like fresh-baked cookies or wildflowers.”

“But they could. Maybe you just haven’t met this demon.”

Actually, Vera hadn’t met any demons. “If you think what you went through seven years ago was bad, if you think your mom’s addiction was bad, then you have no idea what my parents’ work looks like. It’s Hell—not metaphorical, not in the dramatic sense, but actual, literal Hell.”

Maxwell grunted. “I’m already living in Hell.” His gaze held the same broken cast as the crowd of mourners he described at the memorials. This was so different from the role of the big man on campus that he played at school; it was as if he were a weary method actor unable to keep up the ruse anymore.

“When my dad died, it wasn’t just a hole in our house, it was a black hole that swallowed everything—the restaurant, our livelihood, our activities. I hate basketball now. I hate driving anywhere near that site. I hate when other people talk about the deaths in their families, because I find myself comparing our losses. How sick is that? And I know I sound ridiculous, but I also know what’s happening in my house right now. I’m not asking you to be your parents. I’m just asking you to come to my house and see for yourself.”

Vera nodded. It was a reasonable request, and honestly, she’d decided to get involved the moment she saw that skeleton in the fog. “When should I come?”

“Tonight. We can’t wait any longer.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Max

Chloe stampeded toward Max’s legs, hooking herself around him so hard he stumbled back.

“Did you miss me?” she screamed.

Her friend Alexis Tenn charged in behind her squealing “Cats rule! Dogs drool!” with her mom right on their hyperactive heels.

“Sorry,” mouthed Mrs. Tenn.

Max shrugged. If he knew how to lower the volume of a seven-year-old, he’d have a yellow Lamborghini in his driveway.

“Did you have fun?” he asked.

“We went to a cat café!” Chloe cheered.

“And had ice cream!” cooed Alexis.

“I’m returning her high on sugar.” The mom approached the table grinning, her dark eyes shifting to Vera.

Slowly, then all at once, her face changed.

Max watched it happen. First, Mrs. Tenn maintained the forced look of politeness that adults reserve for semi-strangers. “Well, hello, Bob. Your lawn is looking healthy….” Then she must have placed Vera, because her eyes flexed, her head tilted, and her eyebrows pinched together.

“Oh,” she said. Like, Oh, you invited a serial killer to lunch. Or, Oh, my daughter is within striking distance of a Salem witch.

To Vera’s credit, she didn’t react.

“Hi,” Vera said. She even smiled.

Mrs. Tenn blinked, her body otherwise motionless so as not to make any sudden moves. There was actual fear in her eyes. Vera was the only person in this town helping Max right now, and she was doing it even though he had never been particularly nice to her. Apparently, no one was nice to her.