CHAPTER TWELVE

Everyone sat in a stunned silence for a moment before Melissa said, "I thought there were only twelve of us."

"Thirteenth," Alex said, taking the scroll from Cierra. "Thirteenth! What the hell happened to 'you found the twelfth, all are present and accounted for'? Stupid lying useless piece of crap!" He smashed the scroll against the wall again.

"You know, one of these days, it's going to hit you back," Aideen joked.

Evan had started to come around. "Where am I?" He asked Aideen.

"Evan, this is Alex's house. Alex is a very good friend of mine who I suspect you're going to get to know really well," Aideen replied.

"I'm not really all that sociable," Evan replied dryly.

"Neither was Jade, but you can't stop destiny."

"What are you talking about?" Evan asked in confusion.

Alex sighed and read the words on the scroll aloud, omitting a few curse words that had been directly at him. "Evan Blackwell, thirteenth member of the Silver Society... Clairvoyant with precognitive abilities. He arrives only after a loss. Age, legal adult, but otherwise not your concern. History, confidential. His talisman is a silver gun charm on a chain that is charged with protection and divination charms." Alex shook his head. "The scroll's being a bit secretive about the details, but then again, until today, it claimed there were only twelve of us."

"How the hell did you know about that necklace?" Evan demanded. It was around his neck, hidden beneath a cloaking spell. Even with the fact that they'd had to open up his shirt to tend to his injuries, no one had been able to see it. He held it in his hand protectively, looking at everyone suspiciously.

"The scroll told him," Aideen explained. "As it turns out, saving my life isn't the only reason you came to Salem. You're part of the Silver Society, just like the rest of us. Congratulations, Sexy."

"I'm not planning to stick around here for very long."

"Neither was Jade. She changed her mind."

"Who is this Jade you keep mentioning?"

"Jade Collins. She's another one of us, our token goth girl. She's from New York."

Evan stared at her. "Wow," he said in surprise. "What a small world."

"What do you mean?" Alex asked. "Do you know her?"

"No, but I know of her. Most supernatural people in New York heard about what happened to the Collins family."

"She's not evil," Cierra said quickly. "She had a good reason to kill them."

"I know she was a cult kid. When they kill their families, it's usually justified. Look, I'm not part of your little club. The scroll is wrong."

"It's never wrong. It omits details and speaks in riddles, but it's never been wrong," Alex replied. "As much as I hate to admit it, because the scroll pisses me off, it knows what it's talking about." He paused. "So, you're from New York? So am I. Manhattan, specifically."

Evan didn't reply, but it was obvious that he was annoyed at himself for letting that information slip out. He was saved from having to answer as someone else spoke up. 

"So, what, this guy is like Spencer's replacement or something? I don't think that's going to go over very well," Jesse said with a frown.

"No one could ever replace Spencer," Cierra said. "Evan is just another one of us who we need because we lost Spencer."

"Would you guys mind filling me in on what you're talking about?" Evan asked.

"Spencer was... a very good friend," Aideen said, trying not to choke up. Talking about Spencer was still hard for her sometimes. "He was one of us, a really strong precog, and he died over the summer. He sacrificed himself to save everyone else and stop a serial killer."

"I'm sorry you guys lost someone you cared about, but whatever you're looking for from me, you're not going to get it. I don't play well with others."

"You said that you felt compelled to come here," Aideen said softly.

"I did," he admitted.

"What if there's a bigger reason for that than you realized?"

"I don't know... I don't feel like I'm supposed to be part of some supernatural group that's destined to save the world, okay? It's not my kind of party."

"Well, you've apparently been invited anyway. Come on, give it a chance! At least while you're protecting me... I spend a lot of time here. All I'm asking is that you come inside instead of watching me from the shadows."

Evan sighed. "Fine," he said, "but that's all. I'm not making any promises beyond that."

"That's good enough for me." Aideen kissed his cheek.

Jesse growled quietly and excused himself from the room. "Please excuse my ex-boyfriend," Aideen said. "He gets jealous sometimes, but he's the jerk who screwed up, so he has no right."

"Any guy that's dumb enough to lose you doesn't deserve you," Evan replied.

"I like you more every second, Evan." She smiled at him and decided that having him around more often wouldn't be such a bad thing.

~*~

The Fosters were the perfect picture of upper class life. They had moved to Salem six months earlier so that Mr. Foster could open up a branch of his company in Boston. Mr. Jerry Foster was a handsome, charming businessman with dark brown hair and eyes who ran both his Seattle-based company and his home with care and style. Mrs. Gina Foster was a beautiful blonde socialite without a care in the world. Upon moving to Salem, they had become members of the best church in town. They had raised three wonderful children, Elaine, Edward, and Eliza. Elaine was a doctor now, Edward was studying to become a lawyer, and Eliza was twelve, and the perfect polite little girl that every parent wanted to present to society.

They were a little too perfect. Arnie didn't trust them. He didn't know any of them, but that could just mean that they kept a low profile in the supernatural community. He suspected the church membership was just a cover, like it had been with Lewis and Maggie Ashford.

"Oh, Arnie, we're so happy to welcome you into our home," Mrs. Foster said. She smiled so much that Arnie wondered if too much Botox prevented her from frowning.

"You'll be staying in Elaine's old bedroom, but feel free to redecorate. All of the girly stuff is gone," Mr. Foster added too cheerfully.

"I'm not four," Arnie said. "Please don't talk to me like I'm a toddler."

"Don't mind him," Gobin said. "He's been through a lot. He'll cool down eventually."

"Eliza, please show Arnie his room," Mrs. Foster said.

The petite blonde pixie of a girl obliged. She opened the door for him, but was silent.

"Don't you speak?" Arnie asked. She shook her head of long, blonde curls. "Can you?" Arnie asked gently. Eliza nodded. "So why don't you?" He asked curiously. She simply shrugged in response.

"Don't shrug, dear. It looks uneducated... Eliza's been feeling ill lately," Mrs. Foster explained. "You'll have to pardon her silence. She's very shy, which doesn't help the situation."

"Do you like the room?" Mr. Foster asked.

Arnie deliberately shrugged, hoping it would annoy Mrs. Foster. "It's okay, I guess," he replied. "I've slept in much worse."

"We're sure you'll like it here. Feel free to settle in. Elaine and Edward will be coming home soon. Elaine doesn't live with us anymore, of course, but she wanted to meet the newest member of the family."

Arnie almost snapped at them that they weren't his family but he stopped himself. You're not nine anymore, he scolded himself. Stop acting like a brat.

"Come downstairs when you're ready," Mrs. Foster said. "We'll see you soon. Come, Eliza. Give Arnie some privacy."

Eliza curtsied and exited the room. Arnie shook his head. What kind of twelve-year-old actually curtsies? He wondered. He didn't bother unpacking the few belongings he had left. Most had perished in the fire, but he had a lot of things that he'd left over Alex's house and Aideen's, and those were his only belongings now.

He opened the closet to find it stocked with clothes that he'd never wear unless attending a funeral or a wedding. "Yeah, so not happening," he said, closing the closet door in disgust.

He sat on the bed, which was surprisingly comfortable, and tried to figure out his next move. Meeting the family was not his idea of fun, but he had little choice. It was the usual routine for the new foster kid to meet the rest of the clan. He wondered what horrors lay behind closed doors in the house. It didn't seem paranoid to him. Something was not normal about Eliza, and kids only acted like that when something wasn't right in the house. There must be abuse or some other sinister activity going on. Maybe he'd take her away and get her to good people who would take care of her.

He'd had foster siblings who were being abused before, although he usually suffered worse than they did because the parents figured that no one would care about a foster kid. Two had been murdered, three had run away, and one had been rescued from her family only to end up with one that was even worse in the system. Arnie had loved her. She'd been his first girlfriend. Her new foster family pushed her so far that she had ultimately killed herself.

Brain, would you kindly stop going there? Arnie requested silently. I can't handle going over all of the people I've loved who have died right now.

When Mrs. Foster knocked on the door and said, "They're here, Arnie," he knew he couldn't hide in the room any longer. He stood up, took a deep breath, and put on the best fake smile he could manage before heading downstairs.

Elaine Foster looked like a clone of her mother. She dressed like her, she carried herself like her, and she smiled as often as her, only her smile seemed somewhat more genuine. She hugged him warmly and said, "Welcome to the family, Arnie."

"Uh... Thanks," Arnie managed.

Edward nodded at him and shook his hand. "Hi," he said. "I'm Edward." Edward, not Ed or Eddie, Arnie thought. Another overly formal member of the family. Edward had a firm grip and was handsome enough that girls probably drooled over him.

"Eliza, why are you so quiet tonight?" Elaine asked her sister.

Eliza seemed to sink deeper into herself. She stared into space, refusing to look anyone in the eye, and Arnie wondered if she might be mildly autistic. This theory deepened as he noticed the way she rocked back and forth ever so slightly in her chair. If she wasn't autistic, then maybe she was some sort of psychic who was having catatonic visions or something. Whatever the case was, Eliza wasn't a traditional little girl, which meant that she was far more interesting than the rest of the family.

"So, Arnie, you're a senior at Bishop High School, right?" Elaine asked when her sister did not respond.

"Yeah," Arnie replied.

"That's a great school. Where are you planning to go to college?"

"I'm not."

"Pardon?" She blinked at him as if this were unthinkable blasphemy and she must have heard him wrong.

"I'm. Not. Going. To. College," he replied slowly and firmly.

"Oh... I see," Elaine said awkwardly, like she didn't know how to respond to his declaration.

"Of course you're going to college," Mrs. Foster said. "Why wouldn't you?"

"School's not really my thing," Arnie replied.

"I'm sure you could succeed with the right motivation. Maybe you just need a better support system," Mr. Foster said.

"My support system is great, thanks. I don't need a new one."

"We're here to help you, Arnie."

"I don't need any help."

"You've been through a lot," Mrs. Foster said.

"That's right, I have, and I'm still going strong."

"Mother didn't mean to offend you, Arnie," Elaine said quickly. She was clearly the mediator in the family.

"Look, I just think that I need some time alone, okay?" Arnie asked. "I'm still trying to process everything that happened."

"Of course," Mrs. Foster replied. "We understand."

You couldn't possibly understand, Arnie thought bitterly. I bet you've never had to sacrifice anything in your perfect little lives.

He remained silent, refusing to risk pissing off his new foster family too soon. He'd rather not find out if they were abusive right away. He needed time to rest a bit and get his strength back. The fire and the stress had taken a lot out of him.

"So, who wants cake?" Elaine asked too cheerfully. The meal resumed as though nothing had happened.

~*~

"Twenty-eight," Skip declared upon arriving at the Unit the next morning.

"Twenty-eight what, Boss?" Shooter asked.

"Twenty-eight known casualties of the witch and vampire war to date. That's not even including the children."

"What are they doing to each other?" Tammy asked.

"We've got staked vampires, decapitated witches, people who were gutted, stabbed with ritual blades, and even burned at the stake. Yes, burned at the stake. Salem didn't even burn witches at the stake during the witch trials, for God's sake!" Skip looked like he was about to spontaneously combust.

"Wow," Susie said. "Someone needs caffeine." She handed him a cup of coffee.

Skip downed the coffee entirely too fast. "Thanks," he said. "How the hell do we stop a civil war?"

"Grab a Reaper or a medium and call in Abraham Lincoln?" Shooter suggested.

"Don't tempt me," Skip replied.

"Not it," Tammy said. "I don't look good in a stove pipe hat and beard."

"Twenty-eight people have already died for this stupid war and they still won't stop."

"Twenty-nine," A small voice said. Alice Jessink stood before them. The petite college student was covered in blood. "I'm sorry to barge in here... But I need your help."

"What happened?" Tammy asked, immediately checking to see if any of the blood belonged to Alice.

"They killed Kelsey..."

"Kelsey who?" Shooter asked.

"I don't know her last name, but she was in my sociology class. She was a day walker."

"Do you know who killed her?" Skip asked.

"Yes, but I can't tell you. I'm bound by oath never to speak of what I know. I told them... I warned them that this was going too far, and now they've killed someone who didn't even deserve it. Kelsey never hurt anyone in her life! She was the sweetest person I've ever met."

"Why was she targeted?" Tammy asked.

"They don't care who they kill. They sent a really powerful spell at her, and she exploded. I've never seen anything like it. She was my friend. I want out, but I'm so scared... I can't just leave the coven. I know too much. They'll kill me."

"Witches are supposed to be so peaceful," Shooter said, shaking his head. "Someone forgot to take their love and light pills this week."

"They're not thinking clearly because the children were the High Priestess's nieces and nephew. Everyone is going insane with grief. I don't know what to do. I can't be part of this anymore, but there's no way out," Alice said, trying to wipe away her tears.

"We can take you into protective custody," Tammy said.

"They'll find me. They'll have me killed."

"We won't let that happen, Alice," Susie promised.

"Let's get you cleaned up and into some new clothes," Tammy suggested, guiding Alice away.

"We're screwed," Shooter said.

"Why?" Skip asked.

"We can't protect her from the witches, Skip. Half of them work here."

"We can keep her in a safe room where no one will be able to find her and no energy can touch her."

"I hope the war doesn't last too long, for her sake. I'd go insane if I had to spend too much time in one of those rooms."

"You're already insane," Susie pointed out.

"That's not the point."

"So, has there been any luck tracking down who left the note at the Berlin house?" Skip asked, hoping to stop Susie and Shooter's tangent from going any further.

"Not so much," Shooter replied. "The energy is definitely from a warlock, though. And get this! Arnie's file has pages missing. It looks like someone went very far to keep a secret."

"Please tell me we don't have another situation like we had with Cierra."

"I think it's worse, actually. This guy's stronger than Cierra's father was, and whatever he wants with Arnie, it's not good. We're going to have to tell Arnie the truth soon. He's in danger."

"Who did he end up being placed with?"

"That weird new family, the Fosters. They've been on our radar because something's not quite right there, but there are absolutely no files on them prior to their arrival in Salem."

"That's odd..."

"I had Polly and Claude look into their history, and they found nothing. It's like the Fosters didn't even exist until they came here. It's beyond odd."

"I tried to get social services to leave him with Alex or let Clarissa take him, but they wouldn't hear of it. They said that Alex has too many stray kids as it is and Clarissa's unfit because she lost her husband a year ago and is still mourning. It's a load of BS, but with all of the red tape, there's only so much I can do."

"Hopefully we can get him out of there soon. What about emancipation? If the Unit took him on as an official employee and vouched for him-" Susie began.

"His case worker has already declared that Arnie is unfit to be on his own. It's going to take a while to get that decision overruled."

A phone rang, which Susie quickly answered. "Hello?" She paused for a moment. "Wait, what? Ambrosia, you're not making any sense... Calm down and start at the beginning. What's going on?" She paused again.

Shooter and Skip exchanged worried glances. If Ambrosia was worked up enough that even Susie couldn't keep up with her train of thought, something was very wrong.

"Oh wow... Alright, we'll get a team down there as soon as we can. I'm so sorry, Ambrosia. Just try to hang in there, okay?" She hung up and looked at Shooter and Skip.

"Make that thirty," Susie said to them.

"What happened now?" Skip asked.

"The war is about to get a whole lot worse," Susie replied. "Augustina Liggman's just been murdered."