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Bound to Change: A Limited Edition Spring Shifter Romance Collection

Page 85

by Margo Bond Collins


  I felt it when Henry and Ella came awake, though neither of them showed any outward sign of it.

  After a few seconds, Henry flicked one ear up, then back down, as if he were dreaming.

  The creature outside my door stepped into the room.

  I still couldn’t tell much about it. It was roughly human-sized and shaped, but beyond that, I didn’t really know.

  Maybe it was a vampire, coming to feed on me?

  I wanted to attack immediately, but I could almost hear Henry saying, “Wait another minute.” I was sure it was a message sent through our new bond.

  I suppose it wasn’t fair to have already decided the intruder had nefarious intent. But I simply couldn’t believe that anything that wished me well would come sneaking into my room in the middle of the night without any warning.

  No. This was definitely not the kind of creature I wanted snooping around without supervision.

  Even if it wasn’t part of the Lusus Naturae, it was at least not a part of the official program this week. And that creeped me out.

  As it came closer, I got a better look at it. A female of some sort. Her hair waved wildly around her head. And when she got close to the bed, her voice rasped, “I’m sorry.”

  I suppressed a shiver.

  “I have to do this,” she continued. “We can’t allow you to be here. You have to die. I have to kill you.”

  I felt more than heard the intruder take deep breath and then saw her silhouette as she raised her arms high above me. “This is for the Lusus Naturae.”

  What moonlight there was glinted off something metal—a knife of some kind, I guessed.

  As I moved to try to jump out of its way, Henry and Ella leaped to my defense, jumping straight from being what looked like sleeping wolves to becoming attacking wolves in a heartbeat.

  Whatever the creature was, she was strong, and fast. With a single spin, whipping out her arms, she slammed the twins back against the dorm room wall.

  They hit with a resounding thud, and I winced on their behalf. I felt the pain of their impact shudder through me as it poured down the lines that connected us. But it was a distant pain, and I didn’t allow it to distract me. Pain was good. The pain meant they were still alive.

  But then the creature was coming toward me, her mouth open in a rictus smile, exposing pointed teeth.

  I focused on that smile, that face. That evil, ugly, face. Even though time seemed to stretch out around me, I knew there wasn’t enough of it for me to completely shift before the creature hit me.

  But I had been practicing partial shifts all my life.

  With a single hand, I swiped at the creature just as it let out a horrific screeching noise and was suddenly on me, attacking with all her might.

  But I got my one swipe in. Even as the monster was screaming, I had hooked one claw into an eyeball.

  Whatever this thing was, it was definitely alive.

  Her scream intensified and I clung to her for dear life, my claws imbedded in her eye as she tried to shake me off.

  Ella and Henry stood up woozily, rubbing their heads.

  Help me, I sent across the lines that bound us to one another.

  Instantly, Henry and Ella jumped into the fray, each clamping down on one side of the intruder’s body.

  Wolves like to take their prey down and then kill them cooperatively, I remembered from some social studies class I had taken.

  And in this case, cooperative meant with me. Henry pulled the creature down from behind while Ella clamped down on an arm the creature had thrown up in front of her face at the last minute. Between the two of them, they wrestled her to the floor.

  And without hesitation, I slashed my half-shifted hand across her throat, claws extended.

  The horrific shriek turned to a gurgle, the noise bubbling out of the wound I’d made in her throat.

  The three of us were still standing, watching the creature bleed out, when my door burst open and virtually all the pack members on campus tried to rush in at once.

  “We’re okay, we’re okay,” I called out.

  Everyone out the hall started talking at once.

  “We heard you.”

  “I knew you were in danger.”

  “I could tell there was a problem.”

  “I knew there was somebody who had broken in.”

  Apparently, not only was I able to kill monsters when the time came, but I was also the member of an extended pack that knew when I was in trouble.

  I liked that.

  I was beaming by the time Reo and Kacie made their way through to the front of the crowd and through my door.

  Reo frowned down at the body on my floor.

  “Looks like a banshee,” Kacie said.

  “Yeah, and it’s one we admitted to the Academy yesterday.” Reo sounded worried.

  “She said she was going to kill me,” I said.

  “I believe you,” Kacie said shortly.

  “Whatever she was, she was up to no good.” Reo nudged the body with his bare foot.

  “You know,” Kacie said, her tone turning thoughtful, “banshees can often foretell their own deaths. I wonder if she was here to try to stop it?”

  “She might have foreseen her own death, but the last words she said were that she was doing it for the Lusus Naturae,” I noted.

  “It’s a good thing you killed her, then,” Reo said.

  The twins and I beamed at each other.

  “I’ll take over here,” Reo said. “Why don’t you gather up your stuff and go stay with Ella?”

  I couldn’t think of any better plan.

  I didn’t really sleep, though.

  The next day’s seminar consisted of strengthening our pack bond and practicing moving together in ways that would allow us to fight together.

  But I already knew that I could do that.

  For the first time, I didn’t feel anxious about what was coming next.

  “I’m excited about school starting next fall,” Ella said as we packed up to leave a few days after that.

  “Me, too.” I closed my suitcase and grinned at her. We headed toward the portal that would send us home again, meeting up with Ella’s twin on the way out. “I still wonder why the banshee was out to get me, though.”

  Henry reached down and took my hand in his, squeezing it as we walked along. “I think that’s something we need to look into next year.”

  I smiled at him. “Absolutely.”

  When Ms. Allen stepped through the portal to escort me back home, I smiled at her.

  We had won.

  Now I knew where I belonged.

  I was going to stay at the Hunters’ Academy. I knew how I was going to join the fight against the Lusus Naturae when my time came.

  And until then, I was going to learn everything I could.

  With Henry and Ella.

  And a whole new pack.

  Begin reading the Hunters’ Academy series here!

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  IVY HEARNE SPENDS HER days dreaming of heroes and monsters and the heroines who tame them. She writes young adult paranormal romance and urban fantasy and fully expects to find herself someday transported to a world of fantasy and magic, where her snarky tendencies will win her the respect of the realm—and probably a crown, too.

  BETWEEN WORLDS

  Amanda Sievert

  Chapter One

  Why couldn't someone just come along and snatch her up out of here? Just...grab her arm as she was walking down the sidewalk on the way home from school, drag her into their mysterious van- you know, the kind with no windows and a strangely scraped and blurry license plate-and speed off with her inside, taking her not to some weird sex trade in deepest, darkest Mexico but instead to some magical new life? One far away from her controlling parents, her horrible (and clueless) te
achers, her "friends" who talked about her as soon as her back was turned.

  Poppy sighed as she kicked off her grungy trainers just inside the door of her room (first on the right as soon as you came upstairs). She crossed the mediocre room with its mediocre, teenage girl decor and completely average paint scheme (all chosen by her mom who, despite having an interior design degree, or maybe because of it, had no clue what teenagers really liked apparently) and did a graceful pirouette as she collapsed onto her bed. A squeak escaped both her lungs and the aging mattress, and Poppy flung an arm over her eyes. She had a massive headache, nothing unusual after a typical school day unfortunately, and she fumbled at the drawer in her bedside table, apparently having forgotten how handles worked. Finally her fingers managed to pull the drawer out and she attempted, from her supine, sideways position, to grasp the tiny bottle of naproxen which was always her head's savior. And somehow was completely worthless during "that time of the month".

  She sat up to twist off the lid and shake one of the little oblong blue pills into her cupped palm, then recapping the bottle and tossing it back into the drawer with a rattle and crash as it landed among brushes, makeup, perfume bottles, pencils, and more. She wasn't a messy kid, but she wasn't a neat freak like her mom either. She popped the pill into her mouth and swigged some of the Calypso Blue Ocean Lemonade from that morning, swallowing and then swishing another sip around her mouth. She couldn't get enough of that stuff.

  With another heavily dramatic sigh, Poppy began digging through her backpack for her homework. She only had a few more questions to answer, although it was advanced calculus and she hated hated HATED all things math with a passion so great that if math were a person she might commit murder just to avoid dealing with it.

  As if it were sentient and realized how much she disliked it, the crisp paper slid along the pad of Poppy's index finger, unzipping the skin in a rather long paper cut. A large drop of blood welled up from the sliced flesh, and Poppy inhaled sharply between her teeth, her lips drawing back in a grimace of pain. Paper cuts always seemed to hurt worse than normal, run-of-the-mill cuts.

  "Damn it!" Poppy exclaimed, popping her finger into her mouth and sucking away the blood. She aimed a hearty kick at her backpack, sending it rolling under her desk. Screw it, she thought. It was the weekend, anyway. Five stupid math problems could wait until Sunday after supper. She stalked off down the hall to get a band-aid, fumbling open the stupid little cardboard box and dropping three individually wrapped band-aids on the floor, cursing again as she bent down to retrieve them. She slid two of them back into the box and returned the package to its shelf in the medicine cabinet before peeling open the one for her finger. Clotting blood had beaded along the cut in the intervening minutes, and she hissed as she washed it under the cold water of the sink. A quick dry with the fluffy emerald green bath towel that hung near the tub, a dab of antibiotic ointment and a swiftly slapped on band-aid later, and Poppy's finger was right as rain.

  She slunk down to the kitchen, scuffing her stockinged feet along the carpet, her hands crammed in her pockets and her long brown hair veiling her face. She only looked up when she reached for the refrigerator door and yanked it open, scanning the contents as her stomach growled. Hmm. Nothing looked very appetizing, although it was filled to overflowing with food that, any other day, would look perfectly delicious to her. She shrugged to herself and grabbed an apple from the crisper drawer and a diet soda from the door, banging the door closed with the side of her butt.

  As she passed the table on her way to the couch and the BIG tv in the living room, she noticed the sticky note on the table. Poppy rolled her eyes and set the apple down to read the scrawled writing on the pale pink paper.

  "Popstar," she read, shaking her head and rolling her eyes harder at the use of her dad's nickname for her, "we had a meeting at work and don't know when we'll get home. Mom left money in the jewelry box in your room for Chinese or pizza or whatever you want. Sorry, hon, we'll make it up to you sometime. Love, Dad."

  "Cool. Chinese for supper. Awesome." Poppy tossed the crumpled note back on the table and flopped in front of the tv, flipping through channels until she found her guilty pleasure; Dr. Phil. Today he was giving hell to some dumb 20-something who evidently LOVED her life as a prostitute, despite being beaten on by her pimp. Ooops, that would apparently be "boyfriend". Ugh. This would be an episode Poppy wouldn't be able to watch without wanting to throw a brick at the girl's perfectly made-up face. She clicked the remote a few more times. Ah, news. Perfect. She settled back into the cushions and took a huge bite out of her apple, chewing noisily as she watched the weather report. More rain, no surprise there, uh-huh, snow crossing the Rockies, yup. Oh. Wait. What was this? She perked forward as the dramatic music for BREAKING NEWS broke into the local broadcast. Lester Holt appeared, wearing his serious face and gripping a sheaf of papers so tightly that his fingers were scrunching the pages. He looked very pale, sick even. Poppy turned up the volume.

  "A third victim has been discovered in the ongoing murder investigation in Montana, leading local police in that area to call in the FBI. It is now being treated as the work of a serial killer, as all of the victims have the same identifying marks, apparently the killer's 'calling card'. Residents statewide are being advised to remain home unless it is absolutely necessary to leave, for work or food and necessities. Schools across the state of Montana are being cancelled until the killer is detained, and we are being informed that a home study course will be set up over the next week to keep those children of school age educated and safe. The police in each residential area will be patrolling, keeping their neighborhoods safe, and we assure you all, across the country, that the FBI and the DHS will be working nonstop to catch the person or persons responsible. We will bring you more information as it becomes available. I'm Lester Holt, and I'll see you on the Nightly News in just 45 minutes."

  Poppy gulped and set down her half-eaten apple, having suddenly lost her appetite. The news had covered the first two deaths extensively, having attributed them to animal attacks. After all, both victims had been dressed for hiking and were each found in densely wooded areas, covered in scratches and bites and apparently looking half gnawed on. With their throats torn out, no less. But this one...no real information, not yet, and it must not have looked as, um...eaten as the previous two. She cast her panicked gaze to the windows, noticing that it was getting dark. She hurriedly closed the curtains, racing around the house to twitch them all closed and double-check the locks. She locked the door, too, and then curled up on the couch, hugging her knees and rocking a little. During the day Poppy could always be brave, sometimes to the point of stupidity, but at night everything changed. When she could no longer see so far, when something out there in the dark could be staring back and she wouldn't know- then it was very different.

  She called the Chinese place for delivery and pounded up the stairs to grab the money, diving back into the safety of the couch to wait. The time seemed interminable before the doorbell dinged and she returned to the living room with her feast, just in time for the Nightly News to come on. Of course they went right into the ongoing investigation, and of course no one had any new information about the murderer. What he might look like, where he might be now, if he had a travel pattern...well. Let's just guess, shall we? Poppy thought, huffing around her mouthful of special fried rice while very carefully managing not to spew any. At least if she got killed now, she thought, she'd die happy with plenty of her favorite food in her belly.

  About half an hour later she scooted the nearly empty takeout box onto the coffee table, flopping back into the cushions with a full and satisfied sigh. Her eyes drifted closed. The news hadn't elaborated much further on the breaking story, thankfully. Just a reiteration of what the anchor had said earlier and more warnings to stay close to home until someone said different. Poppy sighed and began to drift off, her head falling to the side. She breathed in the scent of her mom's perfume- grapefruit and dark berries the
dominant notes- and her eyes snapped open. What time was it? She flicked her gaze to the wall clock, some large and ornate thing from Sam's Club with many moving parts and music every hour, and registered that it was already a little past 7 p.m. Her parents' meetings never ran that late. Should she call them? What if they were still in the meeting? She might get them in trouble. But if they weren't...if something had happened and they were in trouble.... Or even if they weren't in trouble but were on their way home...she needed to make sure.

  Poppy tugged her tiny phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and tapped the number to direct dial her mom, tucking the device between her ear and her shoulder as it rang. And rang. And rang. With a low, frustrated shriek, she closed the connection and shoved the phone back into her pocket as she yanked a thick, grey, oversized sweatshirt over her head and fanned her hair out of the neck hole with both hands. She ran up to her room, taking the stairs two at a time, and grabbed her backpack, dumping the school contents onto her bed and then filling it back up with things for any situation- her pocket knife, a slightly thicker jacket (April in Montana was still cold), some money, her phone charger, her student id card, and several other items. Dashing back downstairs, she stuffed some food and sodas in as well. There was no telling how long it would be before she located her parents. Hell, her mom might have simply forgotten to turn her ringer back up. Poppy cursed under her breath and dialed her dad's number- but it was the same story. No answer. With a scream, she dialed 9-1-1 and shoved her hair out of her face with a shaking hand.

  "9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

  "My name is Poppy Takala, Meadowsweet Drive. My parents had a meeting at work, but they're still not home, and now they're not answering their phones. They never don't answer their phones."

  "How long since you last saw them?" The female voice on the other end sounded vastly bored.

  "They went to work this morning after I went to school. When I got home there was a note on the table, telling me about the meeting, but..."

 

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