“What’s that?” she asked, and dove into the trash bag.
“Good thing it wasn’t a severed head,” Adam said under his breath.
Wes snorted.
“Oh, this is my sibling, River,” Adam said.
River had a way of standing so still and quiet that you could forget they were there. Adam had no doubt it was a survival tool, but he felt guilty every time it worked on him.
“River, this is Wes. He lives over there.”
Wes and River shook hands and nodded at each other—two quiet, self-contained people reaching out of their containment to make reluctant contact.
Gus pulled lights out of the bag and tugged on Wes’ jacket.
“Can we please go borrow your ladder to hang the lights?”
“Ladder’s still here from last time.” Wes pointed at it leaning against the side of the house.
“Oh.” Gus sounded disappointed, but then she rallied and asked with perfect innocence, “Well then can we please go to your house to borrow something else?”
Adam snorted and River quirked a smile—Adam had filled them in on Gus’ fascination with Wes’ house. Wes just cocked his head and said, “What do you want to borrow?”
Gus thought about that, but honesty won out and she sighed.
“Nothing. I just wanna look at everything.”
And Wes, whether because he was desperate to get back inside or because he honestly was a saint who didn’t mind Gus’ intrusion, said, “Okay.”
* * *
The minute they got inside, Gus made a beeline for the basement and Adam bolted after her before she accidentally pulled bottles of chemicals down on her head or something.
The basement glowed with an eerie green light and for a moment, everything the neighbors had said about Wes echoed through his mind.
Gus had frozen in her tracks and was staring at the far wall of the basement, where glass jars on staggered shelves, with tubes protruding from them, contained the glow. Jars full of fireflies was all Adam could compare it to. He remembered that long ago summer when Marina had trapped them in her hands and put them in jars she’d carry around like nightlights against the coming dark.
Adam had thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen—like stars brought down to earth—until he realized that with the lid on the fireflies died, their beautiful glow darkened forever.
He’d cried when he found the first jar. Marina had been flippant. There would be more that night and they could just collect another jar. His father had been scornful. But Adam had never intentionally killed another thing again.
“What is it?” Gus asked, awed.
“I don’t know.”
“They’re bacteria with luciferase enzyme and luciferin substrate,” Wes said from behind them. “Fed on methane. It mimics naturally occurring bioluminescence.”
“Whoa,” Gus said worshipfully. She got quite close, then turned to Wes. “Can I touch it?”
“You can touch the jar.”
She put her hand on it, then held her hand behind it so the glow traveled up her arm.
“Can you make anything glow?” she asked.
“Theoretically, yes,” Wes said.
The basement was set up like a laboratory and Adam peered at Wes in the dim, virid light, imagining him as a Victor Frankenstein type, all moody eyes, sharp cheekbones, and ill-fated passion for creating life.
Ill-fated or no, Wes looked much more at ease in his house than he had outside. His hands were out of his pockets, his anxious, darting glance had been replaced by an intent focus, and his words seemed to come easier.
“What are these?”
Gus moved to pick up a nonglowing jar on the table, and Wes and Adam both lurched toward her.
“Honey, don’t touch things without asking,” Adam said, taking the jar from her before she could drop it by accident.
However, when something inside it moved, Adam very nearly dropped it himself.
“Oh, god, what are they?”
Wes took the jar from him and cradled it to his chest protectively.
“Leeches.”
Adam’s stomach lurched.
“Like, uh, blood-sucking...bugs, leeches?”
“Leeches aren’t bugs. They’re in the worm family,” Wes said matter-of-factly.
“Do they really suck blood?” Gus asked with fascinated glee. “Like vampires?”
“Well, not like vampires,” Wes said mildly. “Because vampires aren’t real.”
Gus considered him. “You know everyone says you’re a vampire.”
“I know. And a werewolf.”
He winked at her, then howled.
Adam started, but Gus laughed and then joined in the howls.
“Darren and Rose McKinnon said witch,” Adam added.
Wes nodded sagely.
“Yeah, that too. I’m a vampire-werewolf hybrid who practices witchcraft and worships Satan. I’m extremely busy.”
Adam laughed.
“Okay, but seriously. What’s up with the snakes and spiders and leeches?”
Wes carefully set the jar of leeches down with a little pat, like the one he’d given Gus earlier.
“I like them,” he said simply. “I’ve always liked them. They’re fascinating.”
He trailed a finger over an aquarium that Adam now saw contained several lizards.
“Everyone likes fuzzy things like dogs and cats. No one asks them why. But tarantulas are fuzzy and people find them terrifying. They love butterflies but they think leeches are disgusting. People kill totally harmless snakes all the time because they’re scared of them.”
He reached into the aquarium and one of the lizards—a small black one with an orange back—scampered up on his hand.
“But if people spent as much time with lizards and snakes as they did with dogs and cats, they’d realize how amazing they are. They have personalities too. All animals do.”
Adam edged closer to Wes. The lizard was very beautiful. It flicked its tiny tongue out like it was tasting Wes’ thumb.
He could acknowledge the beauty of the lizards, but the thought of that tarantula still filled him with utter horror.
“I don’t mean to be scared of them,” Adam said softly. “But isn’t it, like, human nature?”
“No,” Wes said. “Wolves are a threat to humans too, and anyone confronted with them would be afraid of them, but we don’t naturally jump back from dogs because of it. We learn to fear snakes and spiders because we only encounter them in threatening contexts. By surprise in nature, or as villains in kids’ movies. The way they move is unfamiliar, so we find it creepy.”