Howl (Witches & Warlocks Book 4), page 8
Is it awful of me that I want to stamp my foot and say no? Is it terrible that I don’t want to solve anyone else’s problem, I want someone to help me with my own? Is it ridiculous that I don’t even bother to open up my mouth and say those things?
Probably.
Doesn’t change the fact that this is my life and I have to live it. Without a word, I sit down in the chairs in front of Daya’s desk and wait to hear what she needs. Noah pauses and I know he’s considering saying all the things I won’t say. That we’re tired of being at her beck and call. That I deserve a moment to get my needs taken care of. That I have a problem and I need her help. I know it like I know my name because that’s the kind of guy that Noah is. My knight. My hero. My champion.
Thing is, I know Daya will just brush all those things off, and I bet it’ll ruin my chance of ever getting any information from her. It’s better to just sit down, hear what she has to say, help her out, and try to get help on my stuff when she’s not focused on her own stuff. Besides, I kind of feel bad for Becca and wouldn’t mind trying to help out.
I meet Noah’s eyes, make a face that I hope he understands, and turn back to Daya. “What can we do for you?”
Noah takes a seat, grabs my hand, and sends a huge bolt of magic straight through my arm into my heart. It’s good. It sets off little fireworks of love and appreciation, designed to make me feel adored.
“Becca’s not acclimating well,” Daya begins and I nod, remembering the last time I saw her. Her bloodstained face. Her black eyes. “We’re doing our best, but we don’t really know what she needs.”
I nod and keep my face open as Daya struggles for her next words. “What happened?” I ask when Daya never finds her next sentence.
“She’s disappeared. She’s gone.”
Well, I can think of worse things than a crazed, half-vampire, half-witch loose on the world, out in the world ready to charm people with her magic and gobble them all up.
Oh wait.
No I can’t.
Daya swallows. “We think she’s coming for you, Zoe.”
So much for not being able to come up with anything worse.
Apparently, Becca’s been sneaking out of Windsor for days and no one noticed. It wasn’t until Daya came today to get ready for our meeting, went to check on her and found her room empty that anyone knew.
“A vampire with access to magic may be more than we bargained for,” says Daya when I ask how she’s been getting out. “A little spell, a little vampire speed and she’s gone.”
“How do you know she’s coming for me?”
“It’s what we found in her room. In her journals. We used a Memenderat—”
I hold up my hands, interrupting Daya. “There’s no way she’d fall for that.” I shake my head and shrug. “She used one on me. She’d know that’s what you were doing the moment you left her a journal and told her to write down her thoughts and feelings.”
Daya just smiles. “You underestimate me. You think I made it all the way to Witch Queen without learning a few extra special tricks along the way?” Is that really the title? Witch Queen? I’d laugh if this wasn’t so serious. “You can rest assured that Becca had no idea she was using a Memenderat,” Daya continues. “And you can rest assured that you are very much the focal point of our little hybrid’s ravings. Or not assured, as the case may be.” As a smile slides across Daya’s face, I find myself wondering if the Cheshire cat grin just comes hand in hand with becoming witchy royalty because she’s totally reminding me of Barnabe right now.
Noah gasps and scoots to the edge of his seat. “You said she’s just as much witch as she is vampire?”
Daya nods. “Yes.”
“So she could sense magic?”
“Yes.”
“And walk in the sun?”
“Yes.”
“What about entering a mortal’s home without an invitation? Can she do that?”
“No.” Daya pauses. “I mean, I don't’ think so. We haven’t exactly tested it.”
Noah turns to me, eyes wide. “It has to be Becca who’s been at your house. It has to be.”
My jaw drops and I know it’s true from the deepest part of me. “You’re right. It’s her.”
“That explains the wards still being active. The fact that things are happening during the day…”
“Do you think she’s been inside?”
I just turn to Daya, eyes wide and hope she has the answer to my question. Jump when the phone on her desk rings, the shrill sound devastating the silence. She yanks the handset from its rest and almost shoves it to her ear.
“What.” Color drains from her face and she exhales slowly. “Keep her there if you can,” she says into the phone. “I’m on my way.” She hangs up the phone and turns to us. “They think they’ve found her. I’ve gotta go.” She points a finger at Noah. “You keep her safe, you hear me? And you owe me an explanation about what’s happening at Zoe’s house.”
And with that, she’s out the door, her dress churning around her ankles in a fervent froth of colors.
Chapter Twelve
Noah and I just sit in the office for a bit after she leaves. My thoughts are crazy, a jumbled mess of realizations and questions. It makes total sense that Becca’s been the one hanging out around my house. She could use her magic to get past my wards. She’s able to walk in the sun. She’s freaky enough to set Mr. Twinklebottom on edge and supernatural enough to set my instincts on fire and make me aware of her presence, even if she wasn’t intruding.
Thing is, why? Why is she at my house? What’s bringing her there? Why hasn’t she knocked on the door? Why hasn’t she tried to get my attention? Is she checking on me? Working out some kind of guilt for what she did to me? I keep flashing to the hunger I saw in her eyes at Windsor that day I came to visit. Those big, black, predator eyes. Her bloodstained cheeks.
Dear God, is she hunting me?
There was a moment when I was relieved to think that Ty wasn’t at my house, standing around outside, waiting to get me alone and do whatever stalkers do when they finally make their move on the target. But now, thinking of Becca with all her confused instincts and troubled thoughts? A vampire/witch hybrid who may or may not blame me for her current condition? I almost wish I’d found out it was Ty.
Noah pats my arm and stands up. “Well,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I think it’s safe to say you’re not sleeping alone tonight.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Leave it to you to end up with not one, but two supernatural stalkers.”
“You say that like it’s my fault.” I try to keep my tone light and a smile on my face, but I’m not gonna lie, that stung a little.
“I had a thought,” Noah says and leads me towards the door. “Since we’re clearly not going to find the answers you want about your parents around here any time soon, why don’t we head to the ranch? See what we can find there?”
I immediately feel bad for getting my feelings hurt by his last comment. He’s always looking out for me. Always. Even when it’s not gonna be good for him. The ranch is the centerpiece of his nightmares. The place his sister died. The death he blames himself for. The mere fact that he’s willing to go there, just to help me find some things out about my birth parents, well, that’s a big part of the reason I love him so much.
Or, course, I protest the idea. There’s no way I’m gonna let him walk into a place that hurts his soul just so I can get some information that won’t make any kind of immediate difference to my life. Knowing about my parents won’t solve any problems. Won’t make anything easier. It’ll just … well … I’ll know. And knowing is half the battle. Right?
He’s not hearing it. Once Noah gets an idea in his head, there’s no talking him out of it. “I’m fine, sweet stuff,” he says with a wide smile. “This is a good idea. You can’t deny that.”
And he’s right. I can’t. We decide to drive separately again, mostly because of the valet. I have no idea if they work all night long and no idea when we’ll be back. After a quick kiss that turns into a long kiss, we hop into our cars and head to the ranch. My stomach starts to churn as we get closer and, unlike Noah, I was only there for a few months. And I was the only person there. And I was a full grown adult, not a little kid. I can’t even imagine what Noah’s feeling right now.
We pull in, me first, him following behind, ever vigilant on the ‘keeping an eye on Zoe’ front. He tries to smile, but I see the pain in his eyes. “Noah,” I begin, ready to let him off the hook. To suggest I go in by myself. Or he go on home. Or something.
“I’m good, Zo. I need this, I think.”
And with that, we work our way into the building, making short work of the lock with a spell and even shorter work of the dark by flicking on the lights. It’s unnerving that there’s still power here. I don’t even want to think about what that implies. Noah leads me to the records room with frightening certainty. How long has it been since he’s been here? It speaks volumes that he knows the labyrinthine corridors so well even after so long. When you take into consideration that he probably rarely had reason to be in the records room as a child? Well, my heart breaks when I think about the boy who grew up in this cruelly sterile facility.
I thread my fingers with his, watch his profile as he swallows more emotions than I have names for. But if this is what he says he needs, then I need to respect that. Even if I’m not sure I believe him.
Of course, the records room is a bust. There are files on all the kids, me included, but it’s no surprise to either of us that they’re empty. Just an abandoned old filing cabinet with a bunch of abandoned manila folders inside. As thorough as Daya and the witches were in this whole experiment, or conspiracy, or plan, or whatever the hell you want to call it, well it was just a sliver of hope that we’d find anything of use here anyway. No stone unturned, I guess.
Although, the tightness in Noah’s eyes makes me question how badly this stone really needed turned. But we’re here because he suggested it and he stayed because he wanted to. As much as I want to suggest that we leave, I stay quiet. Follow him as he leaves the room and meanders down the hallway. It’s not like Noah to stay silent, but I can see the turmoil on his face. And the thing is, given how strong he is, I’m sure I can only see a fraction of what he’s actually experiencing. It’s not long before he pushes through the wide doors that lead out to the courtyard.
A short breath escapes his open mouth. This is where Celine died. Where he saw her one last time before she passed on. Tears gather in his eyes and he swipes at them angrily. Untangles his hand from mine and steps into the open space. The dead grass crunches under his feet. It’s started snowing, and flakes gather in his dark hair, the contrast striking before it melts. I watch him from the doorway as he wanders the area, eyes far away. He stops by the pond. Perches on one of the broken stone benches.
“This was the one place she was happy,” he says, his gaze landing on me, his eyes zooming into focus.
I step through the doorway and into the courtyard, pass the tree that got struck by lightning when Daya conjured the storm all those months ago. So much has changed since then. Since she had me here, helping me learn to control my dark magic. I was so mad at her for what she put me through. I’ve been so mad at her. But since then, I’ve not had any trouble controlling my magic at all. Maybe I should be thankful for the time I had to spend here…
I think of all the creatures I had to kill. All the dark remnants and their taunting laughter. The day Daya brought out Noah and Luke and told me to kill them. I’m not so sure I’m ready to feel gratitude about all that. But maybe I can pull off ‘less bitter.’
“I can just see her out here,” I say in response to Noah. “Sitting under one of the trees. Crouching near the pond.” I stop near the stone benches and though I desperately want to touch Noah, to do anything in my power to make him feel better, I wait until he speaks again. I don’t want to crowd him if he’s too overwhelmed.
He smiles. It’s weak and it’s sad and it breaks my heart. “She’d sit right here on this bench and watch the koi in the pond. She’d play with the light reflecting off the water, cast a spell and lift it into the air so it would dance for her.”
Tears spring into my eyes. Months ago, after I lost control of my dark magic and hurt that guy in the coffee shop, made his nose bleed because I was mad at him for pushing me down, Noah took me to the stream and helped calm me by making the glinting light over the stream near Windsor dance for me.
I don’t know what to say to him. Don’t know how to take away his pain and his grief. It’s his to experience. It’s his to work through. All I can do is be here near him while he does it.
“Was this courtyard as beautiful as I think it was?” I finally ask.
“It was.” Noah swallows. “This was the place she deserved.” His voice cracks and he drops his elbows to his knees and looks at the ground. Swallows again. “Not … not in there.” He gestures towards the ranch. “She was such a good person. So caring. So kind. She only ever deserved to be in a place as beautiful as she was.” Noah falls silent and a tear makes its wandering way down my cheek. Nothing I think of to say makes any sense. And so, as usual, I choose silence.
“Do you want to see it?” he asks after a bit.
“See what?” I wish I wasn’t confused, but I am.
“The courtyard. The way it used to be.”
“Yes. I really would.”
Noah stands and closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath and his magic crackles to life, running across the surface of his skin like fog rolling over a field. His tiger appears beside him, calm and stately, a vigilant protector. It sits at his feet. All the while, Noah’s lips are moving in a silent incantation. He opens his eyes and they glow in the fading winter light, a brilliant, unseeing blue. His incantation speeds up, still silent, and he closes his eyes again.
Wind rustles in my hair, lifting it from my shoulders and blowing it back from my face. And then everything that’s broken is whole again. The benches are standing, white rock against green grass, ornate carvings running down their sides. The pond is clean and clear. Koi meander beneath the surface, little sparkling flecks of white and gold. Leaves bloom on the trees and the lightning strike mends itself. Birds sing in the branches. Butterflies flit around flowers lining the stone wall.
I can so imagine Celine in this place. The one happy place in the whole facility. The only place she truly belonged. Did she climb up into those trees? Try to hide from the other kids? The ones who turned to the darkness so easily? Or did she sit out in the open? Brave and strong? In this instant, I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. That Daya hid me. Kept me separate and safe. I’d have been here with her, her protector. The tiger at her feet.
The image of the courtyard falters and breaks apart. Bits and pieces of the image flaking away, letting the cold reality seep back through. Noah’s breath catches in his throat and he turns away from me, his magic disappearing, tears filling his eyes.
I know he needs to experience this grief. That he needs to be here and work it out. Let the tears flow. Feel the sadness and loss so that he can move on. But I wish I could take it all away from him. Wish I could feel it for him so he doesn’t have to. Wish I could give him everything he needs to be OK.
Thing is, I think what he needs is to grieve. And so, I can’t take away this pain because it’s part of the process. That doesn’t mean I can’t be here for him, hold him in my arms and let him know he’s not alone. And I do just that. Wrap my arms around him, fold my body into his. He stiffens for a moment, uncomfortable, but then he softens into the embrace, puts his forehead to my shoulder and falls still. We stay like that for a long time.
Finally, he lifts his head and runs a finger down my cheek. “Thank you.”
“I got you,” I say, repeating his favorite phrase and am rewarded with a smile.
“So, this might sound weird,” he says with an apology dancing across his face. “But do you mind if I have a moment to myself? To say goodbye?” He rushes on to try to explain, to try to take away any hurt feelings. I love him all the more for worrying about me in his time of need.
“It’s OK,” I say, interrupting him. “I understand. Totally.” I press my forehead to his and send him a little surge of magic to help him see how completely OK I am. How thoroughly I understand. Hell, if anyone ever understood the need for alone time, it’s certainly me.
“You keep your eyes on your mirror, your cellphone in your lap, and your magic ready and waiting until you get safely inside your house, you hear me?” Noah asks, suddenly serious and very clearly beginning to doubt his need to stay here.
“I’ll be smart.”
“I know. You always are. I won’t be long. I’ll be at your house before you know it.” He smiles, trying ever so hard to cover up the sadness. “The way you drive, I might even beat you!”
I kiss him again and start heading towards the door. “Be safe, he says,” I mutter, loud enough for him to hear. “You drive too slow, he says.” I turn around and keep walking backwards, throw my hands up in the air and hit Noah with a very overplayed look of exasperation. “Make up your mind, will ya?”
He laughs and I make my way to the cars. Climb in mine and lock the doors. Check my surroundings and put the car in gear. Hit the road, keeping my eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. Shudder when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Despite all my bravado, I hope Noah makes good on his promise to beat me home.
Chapter Thirteen
I’d like to say that I handled the ride home like a champ. That I pulled into my driveway and walked into my house with a level of decorum that only royalty could muster. But that’s not what happens. The feeling of being watched intensifies as I drive. I get itchy. Sweaty. Nervous. My cellphone is sitting in my lap and my magic is at the ready and I’m afraid I’m paying more attention to my rearview mirror than I am to the road ahead of me.
