Firebug by Lish McBride

I swear I could hear the air move. Venus froze, her hand in the air like she’d been paused while conducting an orchestra. She was in stasis—a fly stuck forever in amber. Then I saw her pupils shrink and the tiny muscles around her mouth tighten. I felt a squeeze in my gut and a cold chill run down my spine. I was in it now. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I continued. “I don’t care what beef you have with Duncan. He’s off limits.”
    I have a rule: I don’t kill people who hang out in my kitchen. If I did that, no one would ever visit.
    Â 
    Â 
    DUNCAN is the closest thing I’ll ever have to a grandpa, and I hang on like hell to family. I never knew my dad, I lost my mom, and I’m not losing anyone else. Even if I didn’t care, Cade loves Duncan, and that’s enough for me.
    Cade was never close to his parents. From the stories he tells me, it sounds like he has what Lock calls pod-baby syndrome. It’s like someone stole the baby his parents were supposed to have and left Cade in its place. They weren’t evil, they just didn’t get along with their kid. Still, they managed to go through the motions, until Cade met my mom. Cade’s parents didn’t like Lilia because they thought her parents were, and I quote, “ne’er-do-wells.” (They weren’t entirely wrong—Lilia’s parents were Coterie, so they certainly weren’t up to any good most days, but I wouldn’t say they never did well. A bit of an exaggeration there, I think.) Cade’s parents forbade the friendship. Cade ignored them. The die was cast, so to speak.
    By the time he turned sixteen, he’d packed a bag and decided to live in his car—a car bought with his own money. That lasted all of one week before Duncan found him camping out in the woods by Duncan’s cabin. After that, Cade lived with Duncan until he was old enough to get his own place. Cade’s parents didn’t seem to mind. They moved to Vermont shortly after their son walked out. He gets a card every year on Christmas. They sign it with their names, not “Mom and Dad” or anything. No mention of love or missing him or even best wishes. Just their names. I don’t think they even know about me. Every year he gets the card, reads it out loud, and then, with much pomp and ceremony, turns it into a paper airplane that he throws and I incinerate midflight. Tradition—it’s important in a family.
    Duncan always seemed to know when Cade heard from his parents. I guess it wasn’t hard to gauge—one card on his birthday and another on Christmas, but still. We’d get the card, and then Duncan would show up. At Cade’s birthday, he’d show up with a bottle of stout, and during the winter holidays he’d appear with mulled cider and whiskey. Then he’d sit by the fire and whittle, and I’d make him tell stories about Cade as a teenager. Even though he’d run away from home, Cade really didn’t get into much trouble when he was young. Well, unless my mother was involved.
    Venus knew I wouldn’t take this contract, with Duncan as the target. She had to. So why push me on this? She was usually more careful, which meant she wanted him bad enough to risk losing me as an asset, or it was a trick somehow. I kept turning it around in my head and couldn’t figure out my angle.
    â€œWhy him? Why now?” Everyone subtly moved back a few steps. Questioning Venus led to punishment unless she was in a good mood. Since she wasn’t in a good mood until after she punished you, it was pretty much guaranteed.
    Owen stayed where he was. Venus didn’t scare him.
    Venus looked at her nails, either admiring her manicure or wondering what damage her nails could do. It could have been either one. “I have reports that he’s building his own little army. Well-substantiated reports. I can’t have that happening practically on my doorstep,