Third Strike by Heather Brewer Read Free Book Online Page B

be saved. But he could only save it with patience and time, not with arguments about who had a bigger body count.
    Like a beacon, the ice-cream parlor came into view. It was a small building, painted a pale pink color, with crude, childlike drawings of children skipping rope painted on its outer walls. As Joss pushed the door open, a bell jingled, announcing their arrival. No sooner had they approached the young man behind the counter than Henry blurted out, “Superman!”
    At first, Joss blinked. Did Henry know this guy or something? Had he seen him out and about in blue tights and red underwear, donning a cape? Or was Henry losing his mind completely?
    Henry jabbed a finger at the glass case that covered the enormous cardboard tubs of ice cream. He was pointing at one flavor that looked like the brightest rainbow that Joss had ever seen and grinning at the boy behind the counter. “Superman ice cream. Three scoops. Waffle cone. Make it happen, dude.”
    A small voice spoke in the back of Joss’s mind.
“Not All Superheroes Wear Capes.”
    The boy piled three heaping scoops into a waffle cone and handed it to Henry before looking at Joss. He was maybe eighteen, and his eyes looked suspiciously similar to those of the dead owner’s. Joss guessed that this was the man’s son. He said, “And what can I get you?”
    Joss mulled over the ice cream for a bit, trying to think of a casual way to work in questions about the boy’s dead father. “Hmmm. It all looks good. Which is your favorite?”
    â€œMoose Tracks. But we’re having a sale on Raspberry Bliss.”
    Joss shrugged and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “I’ll try the raspberry, I guess. Can I ask why it’s on sale? It’s not, like, bad or anything, is it?”
    â€œNope. Just doing a little tribute to my dad. It was his favorite flavor.” As he spoke, his eyes shimmered. The pain was still fresh, the hurt still new. This was what Henry was missing about Joss’s job. Joss was helping people.
    As he handed over a ten, Joss frowned. “I’m so sorry. If you don’t mind my asking, how did he die?”
    â€œCoyotes, if you can believe it.” The boy handed him back his change and sighed, his shoulders slumped in sorrow. He pointed out the window behind him to a spot just across the road. “He was attacked by a small pack of them over there. Just a few yards into the woods. It was strange, too. My dad never went for walks in the woods.”
    That last sentence sent a curious bolt through Joss. If it was a vampire, it was messy work.
    After slipping his change inside, Joss returned his wallet to his pocket, shaking his head the entire time. He might not know what it was like to lose a parent to death, but he could empathize on what it was like to not have your father there for you anymore. And what it was like to lose a close family member. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œMe too.” The circles under his eyes suggested that Joss and this boy had more in common that he probably would ever realize. Shutting the cash register drawer, the boy sighed. “Anyway, if you want anything else, just shout. I’ll be in the back, doing inventory.”
    By the time Joss turned his head to look at his cousin, Henry had already devoured half of his ice-cream cone. Joss took two licks of his, just as a measure of politeness, before dropping it in the trash. When Henry cast him a questioning glance, Joss merely shrugged. “Raspberry.”
    Henry looked at the trash can with an air of disgust. “Gross.”
    Joss pushed the door open, inciting that jingle once again, and held it for his cousin. Once they were outside, Joss eyed the edge of the tree line, hoping to find something that would definitively tell him whether this was a vampire killing or really just wild animals. He hoped for the latter. “Hey, Henry, I’ve gotta check out the woods for a