Dark Star by Bethany Frenette

Author:Bethany Frenette [Frenette, Bethany]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: YA, Fantasy, Young Adult
ISBN: 9781423146650
Google: Ys6EtgAACAAJ
Amazon: 1423146654
Goodreads: 13455513
Publisher: Hyperion
Published: 2012-10-22T13:00:00+00:00

***

It took my mother a moment to register the state of the kitchen. She’d been speaking to Detective Wyle when she entered, then broke off mid-sentence. She looked around at the damage: flour and sugar scattered across the linoleum, bags and bowls overturned on the table, pans on the floor, frosting on the counter.

“What the hell happened in here?” She didn’t even sound angry. Just really, really confused.

That made two of us. Her clothing wasn’t necessarily incriminating—she had her H&H Security coat on—but she’d left that night to patrol as Morning Star, and here she was, home early . . . with a police officer. One she wasn’t on the best of terms with. That didn’t bode well.

“Baking?” I suggested.

Detective Wyle cleared his throat. Mom continued to stare.

Leon just looked sheepish. “Sorry, Lucy,” he said. Then he made a dash for the door.

The traitor.

I looked back at Mom and shrugged. “We were making you a cake. We, um, missed.”

Detective Wyle chuckled. He looked tired and even scruffier than the last time I’d seen him. He certainly knew how to play the brooding antihero, all rough edges and stubble and dark rumpled hair.

Except for his clothing, anyway. He was dressed plainly, in old jeans and a raggedy black sweatshirt with a hole in the collar—but considering I was two eggs and a stick of butter short of being walking cake batter, I couldn’t say anything.

“Hi, Mickey,” I said, giving him a jaunty smile.

He scrutinized me closely. He chose not to comment on the flour in my hair or the frosting on my hands, and instead said, “Hey, kid. You doing all right?”

“Except for being a powdered donut.”

That got a smile. “Feel like any more fortune-telling?”

I glanced at my mother. Her expression was stormy. Even without a Knowing, I’d be able to sense the trouble brewing. I could almost see little thunderclouds gathering around her. Her forehead was creased, her lips a thin line, and from the glare she was aiming at Detective Wyle, I guessed it hadn’t been her idea for him to follow her home.

Maybe he’d threatened to arrest her again.

“I predict you’re about two seconds from getting tossed out of here,” I told him. Literally, I suspected, if Mom could figure out a way to do it without raising more questions.

His smile turned wry. “I see your opinion of me hasn’t improved.”

He was wrong. Looking at him, his way of standing, the tilt to his head, how the light caught that hint of gray in his hair—I Knew I could trust him. He was easy to read, and I had this sense about him: he didn’t mean my mother any harm. There was no malice in him, no desire to injure. He wanted to help.

Of course, I also saw suspicion in his eyes. Not of Mom’s motives, but of her actions.

“I hope you’re not here for the party,” I said, stepping between him and my mother. “Because I didn’t finish putting up streamers, and our cake exploded. And it doesn’t look like you brought a gift.

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