A cold chill, like hands drawing themselves across bare skin, startled Winslow into waking. Her world was fuzzy – a film across sleep-pricked eyes.

Headache. Pounding, throbbing, bad college-flashback headache, “Errrragh,” was all her mind could actually articulate in response to this. Slowly, her room sharpened into clarity, and she saw that most of the “fuzzy” part of her view belonged to Leo, who stared down from his perch on her chest. How did she get in her bed?

“Ah, I’m glad you’re awake,” came a voice from her bedside, and the answer to her question. Winslow made a pained effort to see Jon looking at her uncomfortably, “How are you feeling?”

A dull pain pulsed on her face, and her hand gingerly crept upward to touch the mark the intruder had left her, “My head hurts. My door is busted after being broken into – twice, I might add. And my head still hurts – how do you think I feel?”

“I’m sorry all of that happened back there, but it doesn’t look like he did any serious damage.”

“What happened to that guy, anyway?”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, not comprehending, “I don't know everything that happened, but the man didn't seem to find whoever he was looking for,” he gave a small smile, “I take it you live in a bad neighborhood?”

“What? No! No, I pay way too much for this place for it to be in a bad neighborhood. I've never had this happen in all the years I've lived here.”

“Which has been how long..?”

She paused, pulling the blankets to her shoulders as she felt goose bumps rise, “Well, two and a half, really. But still, nothing's ever happened until you came barging in,” her frown was exacerbated by her headache, “And how do I know that he wasn’t actually after you, who made a great disappearing act the moment he came in?”

Jon’s face reflected hers, letting his gaze drift away from her. There was a pregnant pause before he sighed heavily, “I’m sorry, I’m not being honest with you at all,” another pause as his shoulders sagged a little, “That guy was, actually, looking for me. How he found me here I don’t know, but I’m sorry you got involved like this.” He gestured at the bruise on her forehead.

“Then you’re name’s not really Jon either, is it?” Winslow felt her sense of community service laughing at her.

“Well, it is and it isn’t – Jon is the name I write by, so I wasn’t being entirely dishonest.”

She rolled her eyes, “Great. I’d start calling you ‘Hyde’ now, but you should probably just tell me an honest explanation of all this – all things considered, I’m feeling pretty damn entitled.”

Leo took that as his cue to flop on his back, expecting attention as he purred loudly. Winslow and Hyde both made a motion to scratch the cat, but Hyde’s hand hesitated and withdrew back to his side. “Perhaps you are, and I’ll gladly pay to have the door replaced, but please, just believe me when I say you’re much better off not knowing anything, and just forgetting this entire thing ever happened. In fact, I should just get going,” he smiled apologetically, “But thank you, and I’ll just go get the door replaced so you’ll never have to hear from me again. Well, unless you pick up one of my books,” he gave a small, friendly wave as he turned toward the door.

Winslow sat up, ignoring how her head protested to the movement, “Whoa, whoa, wait, you’re just going to breeze in, impose just until I’m knocked out by a bouncer-looking asshole, and then just leave without any explanation? Are you serious?”

Hyde stopped and looked back at her, “To know anything is to get involved. Even if you didn’t want to, it’d happen, and I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate an encore of any of this.”

Leo stopped purring, sensing as tension thickened like mud between the two. Winslow’s eyes narrowed, and Hyde took that as a sign to stride out, shutting her bedroom door behind him. Only seconds passed before she flung her legs over the bedside, sending the covers and Leo flying as she scrambled to open her door. “Hey!” she yelled as she rushed through her broken doorway –

The hallway was empty.

Her eyebrows drew together while she stopped there, confused as she tried to gauge how he could’ve hauled ass so quickly, “Damn,” she muttered, turning her attention downward as an irked Leo had followed to butt his head into her leg. Winslow sighed, bending to pluck him from the ground and into her arms.

From inside, her phone rang..

--

The coffee shop was small but loud, filled with suits and the college-bound as they fulfilled their morning addictions. Justine made to sip hers cautiously, hoping it’d cooled just enough as she sat in the back. Her raspberry mocha chose instead to singe the tip of her tongue, and she cursed at the cruelty of delicious, piping hot liquids. She glanced at the door, then down to her watch, then back at the door again. Late – his usual time of arrival.

Shifting to re-cross shapely black legs, she heard a small commotion rise among a group of young women near the front – clearly they approved of the man who had just entered.

Tousled, sandy-blonde hair fell loosely across smiling blue eyes. Taut, toned skin shaped from work looked as if he’d charmed the sun into a dance or two, and as Justine looked him over she frowned when he flashed a big-hearted grin at his new fans, mid-swoon. He then made his way over to the line for coffee, casually slipping a hand into his jeans to grab his phone and make a call.

Justine’s purse started to vibrate.

Shooting an unamused look at the man’s averted face she fished her phone out to answer, “You haven’t even been back for a day and you’re already back to your antics?”

The voice was warm and mock-innocent, “What do you mean? I was simply happy to have made it here on time to see my daughter on her 26th birthday.”

“Okay, first, you’re 10 late, and I know you – you won’t be leaving here without at least 3 of their numbers.”

“Or 5.”

“Exactly. And this is the first time in years you’ve ever even called on my-“

“Hey, can you hold on? I’m about to order.”

Justine rolled her eyes, promptly hanging up. True, she wasn’t exactly unlike her father as far as getting physical attention went, but tardiness had always been a cause of annoyance.

He took a seat across from her while setting his mug down in one fluid motion, “Hey Justine, how old do I look?”

“Somewhere between Ab-Fitch and Banana Republic.”

Another boyish grin, “Perfect, more bases I can cover.”

“Like you covered my mother?”

It was an old argument, and his smile faltered, “Justine, your mother… Well, she never could handle my turn for the summers. Not that I blame her, but, well,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “we just weren’t in the cards, Babe. Then of course there are women like those over there and-“

“Whatever, I’m not even going to get into it anymore,” she brought her cup to her lips for round two, letting her mind refocus on the topic at hand, “So Trey, you called me here – what’s the news?”

“You can’t call me ‘Dad’?”

Her smoke-colored eyes were deadpan, “When you start acting like one.”

Trey smiled before letting the humor drain from it, “We think Rawk’s the one who got Mitch last fall. Moreover, it looks like Hyde’s gone missing, too.”

A silence drew itself across the table as the implications muffled all other noise. Justine’s mouth fell as she slowly put the un-sipped coffee back on the table, “How do you know it was Rawk? Why would it be one of us who would’ve done something like that?”

“Rawk went missing shortly after Mitch’s body had been found, and just last night a man of his description was seen around here interrogating people, looking for a man named ‘Hyde,’” Trey’s expression darkened, “Justine, of all the offspring it’s just you and Hyde who live in Chicago. He might be after you as well.”

“H-hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You don’t even know if any of this shit’s related or not. We know Rawk – sure he’s not the brightest of us, but he wouldn’t kill anybody!” She didn’t mention that his build would denote otherwise, “I know that last year set some of us on edge with Eva and Mitch both getting killed – both you and Key, all of us, were shaken, but the world’s not a safe place to live in the first place..”

“Justine, Noir noticed something when she investigated their bodies over the summer.”

“You spoke to her?”

“This involves all of the Seasons, and she’s not as bad as she gives off.”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you want in her pants.”

He laughed, but it was short, “Maybe. But she saw marks on both of them.”

Justine didn’t want to revisit the memories of how her younger half-brother and her old friend had looked, “Of course they were marked – they’d both been slashed and stabbed to death.”

Trey raised his hand slightly to calm her, “I know, I know, but there were certain marks on them that proved to be identical, which could mean the extra cuts were made later to hide the true intentions of those that matched.”

“Which would be?”

“A ritual,” he looked gravely at her, “and this is where it gets worse.”

Justine looked around to see if anybody was listening, noting that it was just past 9 judging from the sunlight. Her eyes widened suddenly as she shot out of her chair, taking her purse to rush toward the outdoors.

“Justine! What’s wrong?!” Trey left their drinks on the table as he chased her toward the exit.

“I just saw Hyde!” came her reply as they raced out the door together.