Howl (Witches & Warlocks Book 4), page 5
But in the very instant I recognize that I’m feeling that way, I feel terrible and the thought dissipates. Two wrongs don’t make a right and there’s nothing that warrants misery like this. Not even the memory my own misery.
Steeling myself. Forcing myself. Working against every instinct I have, I stand up and I cross the room to her. I sit next to her. Make eye contact and open my arms. Try not to shiver as she dives into my embrace, her cold skin raising goosebumps on my own, her blood staining my shirt.
I hold her as she cries. Rock her as she apologizes. And when she grows terrifyingly still, I look down and realize that I’m holding a hungry vampire in my arms.
Chapter Seven
Becca feels me tense and looks up, her pupils fully dilated, her eyes just big empty pools of black hunger. Her mouth is open and her sharp teeth are exposed and there’s this moment of everything hanging in the balance and then, somehow, she’s across the room. Panting. Crying. Apologizing.
“Just go, Zoe,” she says, chest heaving. “Just go.” And I’m ashamed to admit that I do. I run from the room, wiping her bloody tears on my pants, trying not to gag on the mess that is my shirt. I zip up my coat as I head towards the front door, do my best to hide the blood. Forget what I saw and felt in that room. Poor Becca. Whatever she did, however hard she made my life … I don’t think there are many people who deserve what she’s going through.
I burst through the front doors out into the sunlight and don’t stop running until I’m down the stairs and there’s not a shadow on me. The valet’s nowhere to be seen and I’m cursing his need to have bathroom breaks when someone grabs my arm. I whirl, expecting Becca, and send an electrical charge over my skin, all dark magic and strong enough to knock back a hungry vampire.
Whoever it was that touched me goes flying back as my magic strikes them, the grunt decidedly male as the guy’s shoulder slams into the bottom step.
“Oh no!” I cry, running to check on him. That surge of magic was strong enough to do some serious damage to a human. “I’m so sorry!”
The guy is panting and in pain, but he’s doing way better than I expected. He snarls as I get close and the sound is decidedly inhuman. When he finally looks at me, his eyes are yellowed and canine and I realize that I’m looking at a werewolf. Of course, not just any werewolf, but the guy who stopped me the other day. The one who wanted me to go vampire hunting for him.
My gaze flips to the front door and I swear I see Becca watching through the window. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light. I give my focus back to the annoying wolf at my feet. Straighten. Wipe my hands.
“What do you want?” I ask. Maybe that’s a little cold, considering I just knocked the guy into a set of stone steps, but my patience has been stretched to its max.
“You could ask me my name, you know.” The wolf is getting to his feet, his eyes fading from yellow to brown. His voice changing from snarly to oily.
“Not interested.” I turn and inwardly beg the valet to return right this instant. I’m so over awkward confrontations.
“Well, gonna tell ya anyway. Name’s Ty.”
I shrug and do my best to let my face tell him that I really don’t care. He’s either dense or narcissistic enough not to care that I’m annoyed.
“Have you done anymore thinking about my little offer?”
“Not sure you offered me anything.”
“Of course I did. I offered you the chance to help me out. The chance to keep the vampires from knowing who you really are.”
What the hell does he know about who I really am? “That’s great, Ty. Not interested. Hell, I’m not even really sure what you’re talking about.”
“Nice try, sweetlips. Not buying it.” Ty stands beside me, pretending to look for the valet. “Now, what’s it gonna take to get you to open up and be straight with me? What’s it gonna take to get you on board with solving my little problem?”
“Ty. Buddy.” I do my best to look as powerful as I am. As capable of killing as I am. “I’m gonna be real straight with you right now. You need to leave me alone. Or you’re gonna have a whole new little problem to deal with.” I lift my eyebrows and try not to dissolve into a big ball of scared little girl as anger darkens his face.
He lifts a lip, the snarl seeming even more threatening on his very human face. “You do realize what I am, don’t you, witch?”
I appreciate how intimidating he’s trying to be, but I’m not going to let him get to me. “You do realize what I am, don’t you, wolf?”
Ty smiles and shrugs. “If I didn’t know what you could do, I wouldn’t be here.” The valet finally makes his appearance, jogging across the lot, stopping to get my keys from his little station, and takes off towards where he keeps the cars. Ty steps back.
“I suggest you stop being here,” I say and pride myself on how strong I sound.
“I could do that,” he says. “I could also let a few of the stories I’ve heard about you leak out to a few people who might tell a few people who might, you know, tell a few more people. Before you know it, everyone who’s anyone in the Supernatural Union will know just exactly what you can do.” Ty smiles. “And you know how rumors go, by the time the story gets to some of the more important ears, you could be capable of just about anything.”
My shiny new car rolls up and stops in front of me. The valet hops out and holds the door open, declines the tip I offer him because he made me wait. I slam the door, put the car in gear, and pull away from the curb, determined not to look at Ty.
But just before I turn onto the main road, I look back through the rearview mirror and the look on his face sends chills up my spine. Of course, that’s probably just me being paranoid. Like usual. Being scared of everything in this strange new world. I probably should have hit Ty with one last spell, just give him a little taste of what I’m capable of, you know, in case he decides he wants to keep trying to convince me to help him.
Or, maybe I should have hit him with one last spell in case he decides to go ahead and start spreading nasty rumors about me. Ha. Rumors. Can it be a rumor if it’s true? I can’t even begin to think what might happen to me if enough vampires start to think about what I’m capable of. If enough of them start to believe that I’m capable of turning them human again.
And you know what? I’m not gonna think about it. ‘Cause what’s worrying about it going to change? Absolutely nothing. So, my life might be in danger. It’s not like that’s a huge change from the last couple months. Feels like my life’s been in danger ever since I found out I was a witch.
All bravado aside, I sit inside my locked car in the driveway while I do a little magical sensing of my home and the yard surrounding it. Check for anyone or anything that might mean danger. The sun’s out, which means the vamps are all sleeping for sure. But it also means that the snow’s almost totally melted and I’m not going to be able to use it to check for tracks around my property anymore.
Damn.
Do I really need to be this paranoid?
Actually, yes. I think I do.
Twinks is curled up in the window, enjoying the sun. As I open the door, he opens one lazy eye to watch me come in and then closes it again. “Hey, Furrball,” I say as I hang up my coat and look down at my bloodstained clothing. They’re going to have to go straight to the trash because I can’t imagine that they’re salvageable. I head upstairs and cringe at the shredded toilet paper I’ve yet to clean up. Grab a trash bag and scoop it all up, strip out of my clothes and toss them right on in, and then climb into the shower.
I can’t get Becca out of my mind and have come to the conclusion that I most definitely feel sorry for her. Whatever she was, whatever she did to me, she doesn’t deserve to be locked up and lonely. Shunned by both witches and vampires alike and crying nasty-ass bloody tears over it all. By the time I’m clean and dressed, I’m feeling bad for running away from her like that, even if she did tell me to go.
But thinking about running away makes me think about Ty again. Was he just sitting out there, waiting for me to show up? Is he just hanging out around Windsor, waiting for signs of me? Or, and this thought really sends a chill down my spine, did he know I was there?
I don’t even want to think about that, a psycho stalker werewolf keeping track of all my movements. Thing is, I’m most definitely aware that I’d be a moron not to think about it. Guess I’m just going to have to keep my eyes peeled. Suddenly, the cozy night I had planned — watching movies with Twinks curled up in my lap, shooting texts back and forth with Noah — doesn’t sound at all appealing. I want bright lights and lots of people. I want safety in numbers. I want Noah beside me.
I shoot him a text, ask him what he’s got going on. My heart flutters like a broken bird at his response:
Just texting with this super-hot girl I can’t resist.
A girl? I knew it was all too good to be true. I knew I wasn’t going to be enough to keep his attention. I knew I couldn’t trust him. Then comes a second text.
How ya doing hot stuff? ;)
It takes me a minute, but I get it. He wasn’t talking about a different girl, he was talking about me. Trying to be cute and funny. Hell, he probably was totally cute and funny, except I have these crazy trust issues. All I can say is thank goodness that little exchange didn’t happen face to face.
I shoot him a text back, all flirty and wonderful, and invite him to meet me at Sir Perks-a-lot.
I don’t know, he shoots back, still pretending to be all funny. I had a crazy night of movies and sexting all lined up.
I smile and go check my hair and makeup in the mirror. Come out with me and maybe you’ll end up having actual sex. I hit send and then quickly type out another one. Unless you’re more interested in the do it yourself version.
I’m smiling when I meet my gaze through the mirror, all the stress of stalkers and missing pages and vampire-Beccas evaporated after just a few texts with Noah. The phone buzzes one last time in my hand.
Sold. Be there in ten.
Twinks is staring at me from the hallway, silently judging me for another several hours spent alone. I scoop him up on my way towards the door. “Now listen,” I say into his fuzzy back. “You be good. No more paper parties, you hear?”
Twinks neither acknowledge hearing nor understanding and hops up onto the back of the couch when I put him down. After filling his food bowl and checking his water, I throw my coat over my shoulders and lock the door. The sun is dipping low against the horizon, throwing a splendid display of red and orange streaking up from the woods behind my house. I check my wards, tighten them against vampires and, kind of on a last minute decision, throw in some anti-wolf stuff as well. If Ty is comfortable stalking me to Windsor and back, who knows what else he’s comfortable with?
As I pull out of the driveway, I’m struck by how dark and foreboding my house looks against the sunset, how the dark line of trees seems heavy with threat. I whisper one more incantation, an extra bit of protection for my sweet little fur ball locked inside and pull out of the driveway, unable to shake the feeling of eyes on my back.
Chapter Eight
Krystal rolls her eyes as I push through the doors to Sir Perks-a-lot. “You know,” she says, shaking her crimson hair out of her eyes, and plucking a cup off the stack of cups to make me a drink, “if I didn’t work here, I’m not so sure I’d ever be here at all.”
“I’m comfortable in my patterns.” A quick scan of the place reveals that I beat Noah here. “If I wasn’t, how else would you know what kind of drink to make me?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Who’s to say I’m making you your usual? Maybe I’ve made it my mission to help you break outside your box.
“I’m comfortable in my box, Krystal.” If she even had the smallest of clues about how crazy my life actually was, how few things actually made sense, I think she’d forgive me for holding onto my rituals so tightly.
She hands me my drink and I sniff it. “Go on, silly,” she says, shaking her head. “I know you well enough to know your head would explode if anything happened to your precious routine. It’s your favorite. Drink up.”
I smile to cover the torrent of emotions tangling in my chest. She thinks she knows me well. If only she knew just how much I hid from her on a daily basis. If only she knew how much I knew about this world that she doesn't even have a clue about. I take my drink to a table and work on getting rid of the little black cloud of negativity and pessimism that seems to be hanging over me. Check the clock on the wall. Wonder where Noah is.
Just when I’m starting to get worried, he pushes through the door, a broad smile lighting up his wonderful face. The little black cloud totally disappears. He is the sunshine that dries up all the rain. Is it weird that I just ittsy-bittsy-spidered him? Totally. Do I care? Not at all.
I watch him order his drink, love the way his eyes flit to me while Krystal’s busy chatting him up, love the secret little smile that twists the corner of his mouth. Being this close to him, it’s like taking the first deep breath after several days of not enough oxygen. I sigh and let my shoulders fall. This was such a better idea than being home alone. Noah collects his drink and wanders through the table towards me, his eyes on mine, a smile crinkling them at the corners.
He sits down and leans forward, takes my hands in his, kisses each one. “Hello my lovely. I’ve missed you.”
A smile breaks across my face and I blush from happiness. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“I like this whole seeing you in person thing. Such a better idea than sitting in our separate living rooms, missing each other.”
“I agree.”
He lowers his voice. “I’m still not sure how you think we’re going to manage sex in a public place. You don’t strike me as a bathroom sex kind of girl.”
I widen my eyes. “You be careful or there’ll be no sex at all. Bathroom or otherwise.”
“So bathroom sex isn’t completely off the table?”
I shrug and smile into my shoulder, let my eyes simmer into his. “You know what they say. Anything is possible.”
He laughs and I take a drink of my coffee. We chat, bouncing the conversational ball back and forth and I’m surprised to find that sometimes, I’ve got more to say than he does. “I’m sorry,” I say after a particularly long-winded monologue on my part.
“Sorry?” Noah sits back in his chair. “For what?”
“For talking so much.”
I’m genuinely surprised when he laughs. “Don’t be sorry. I love it.”
“Really?”
“Ya. Really. Knowing that you feel comfortable enough with me to just let down your guard and let it all out? That’s amazing. Especially considering there was a time when you couldn't make eye contact with me without blushing.”
“Ya, but that was a spell. Mostly.”
“Doesn’t matter. I want to know you, Zoe. I want to know all the little details that make you who you are. How am I going to learn all of that if you’re not willing to sit down and open up with me?”
And suddenly, I’m very uncomfortable. Because I’m not willing to open up to him. Not completely. I haven’t told him about my research at Windsor. I haven’t told him about the missing pages in my birth parents’ lineage books. I haven’t told him about going to see Becca, or getting stopped by Ty. I haven’t told him about the uneasy feelings I’ve been getting at home. Sure, I’m blabbing on about my favorite books, and laughing about our favorite TV shows, but does that really count as opening up? And what does it mean that I can’t bring myself to tell him all of those things?
What does it mean that I trust him with my body but not my heart? Because in the end, that’s what this all boils down to. I’m more afraid that he’s going to hurt me, or betray me, or be untrue to me in some way than I am sure that he’s completely on my team.
Why else wouldn’t I let him know about all of this stuff? Because I’m afraid he’s working on some mission for Daya that I’m not invited on? Because I’m afraid that I’m going to find out that he knows more about my family than I do and he’s been holding out on me?
Because I’m afraid I’m going to find out that, yet again, he’s part of some conspiracy to make me feel a certain way and act a certain way and think a certain way? That, like just about everyone else I’ve ever cared about, he’s not in this for me, he’s in it for someone else.
That one rings way more true than I want to admit. I sigh and sit back in my seat, my great mood squashed by the reality of my life.
“What’s wrong?” Noah asks, always aware of my mood. I consider telling him that I’m afraid. Consider telling him that I’m falling like crazy head over heels in love with him, that I’ve been falling crazy head over heels in love with him and I’m afraid that he’s gonna hurt me. That he’s gonna end up like Becca. Or Luke. Or Daya. Or Barnabe. That I’m going to let myself trust him only to find out that I’m just a pawn in some scheme of his and I mean nothing more to him than that.
I consider telling him that I want to know where I come from. That I want to know everything there is to know about my past and my present so that in the future, there aren’t any surprises to sneak up and catch me unaware. I want to tell him that I’m tired of not knowing things, of being unsure. Ignorance of my history landed me in huge mess after huge mess and I don’t want to do that anymore. I even consider telling him that I’m afraid he knows more about my history than he’s telling me. That’s he’s keeping important bits of information from me.
And just like that, the little storm cloud is back over my head again.
How can I tell him those things and not risk losing what we have? How do I tell him I don’t trust him and not hurt his feelings? Or worse, have him come out and tell me I’m right? The answer is simple. I can’t. I can’t say one word about it because in the end, talking about it won’t solve the problem. He either loves me or he doesn’t. He’s lying or he’s not. And if he is lying? Well, what’s to keep him from swooping me up, brushing the hair out of my eyes, and telling me everything’s gonna be OK? If he’s a liar then he’ll just keep right on lying.
