Rouen Chronicles Box Set

by Raven Steele

  Roma turned around in a big circle, then headed back toward Rouen, leaving behind the small town that belonged to another time. Her sleeve came up as her hand spun the wheel. Her barbed tattoo was etched in red. Had it always been red?

  Roma glanced at me sideways, her eyes traveling between me and the road. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” Maybe I should move the blood again. Or maybe moving it from its original hiding place, where it had been safe for the last several decades, is what had caused the problem to begin with. I probably should’ve left it there, but I didn’t feel comfortable leaving it behind when I was hundreds of miles away.

  I studied Roma. She seemed so laid back, a female Uber driver dressed in clothes from the nineties, her pants were even ripped in the knee, and yet her hair had been pulled into a tight bun. Not a single strand out of place. She was a walking contradiction.

  “You've been holding out on me,” I answered instead.

  “And you’re bleeding.”

  I reached forward and dropped the visor to look into the mirror. There was a gash just near my hairline, and blood ran down the side of my face. I’d been too preoccupied to notice.

  “Don’t get it in my car,” she said and handed me a napkin. “Bad for business.”

  I blotted at my head. The wound was deep, but it would heal soon enough.

  "I'm not one for strong magic,” she said, finally answering me. “But I'll use it if I have to." Her gaze flickered away from the road to me. “You going to survive?”

  “Thanks to you I am. That was pretty badass. Do the other witches in Rouen know you have power?"

  “Not many.” She adjusted the rearview mirror. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

  "If you keep my secret about meeting the Greybacks, then I'll keep yours."

  She smirked. "You already knew I'd keep your secret, otherwise you wouldn't have brought me here."

  “True. Did you see Jackson’s face when you immobilized him?" I laughed and slapped at my knee. “I think he even shit himself!”

  “He was slow getting up. Do you want to tell me why you were meeting with them?”

  “I’d rather keep this one close to the chest, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to put your life in any danger.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  It felt like a short drive home. Ever the talker, Roma told me about how she’d discovered magic at the age of three. She spoke about her youth in the country, and the people who surrounded her. It was funny the way she talked about her childhood, like she had been raised in another century. They had no television, no radio, or distractions. It actually sounded kind of nice.

  A few blocks from my house, she quieted down and grew serious. “You could’ve been hurt tonight.”

  “It worked out.”

  I wouldn't admit it, but I think I overplayed my hand tonight. I don't know what I was thinking meeting with Jackson alone and not expecting him to try and hurt me in some way. Maybe I expected him to be a little grateful that I had warned him about the Silver Claws attacking their ranch.

  But Jackson was not the grateful type. And now he knew about the Abydos.

  She pulled up to the curb and parked. “It's okay to be scared. True leaders always are."

  "I will never be anyone's leader. I've seen what happens to those on top." I shifted my weight in the seat to face her. "Thank you for helping me tonight. I’d probably have a different face right now had I come alone."

  "Being alone is a choice, sweetie.” Her gaze shifted over my shoulder and out the passenger window. "You have a visitor."

  I turned and followed her line of sight up to my porch. Luke stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets, watching the two of us.

  "Want me to stick around?" she asked.

  "I got this. Thanks, though.” I groaned, annoyed at the way my body was warming at his presence, when it should be cold. Damn, traitorous hormones. “Thanks again.” I shoved money into her hands, giving her more than we’d agreed upon. She deserved it.

  I turned toward the house, inhaled a breath, and prepared to meet the sexy shifter on the front porch.

  Chapter 39

  I waited until Roma drove away before I walked toward Luke. He stepped off the porch stairs and into the afternoon sun.

  "Go for a walk?" he asked, then frowned when he noticed the cut on my head. "What happened?"

  He touched my forehead, and a shiver raced down my spine. I batted his hand away, chiding myself. This wolf was nothing but trouble.

  "It's nothing,” I said. The wound had probably already healed, and what he was seeing was only dried blood. “Follow me.”

  I led him around the side of the house and through a gate, wishing I could talk to him, especially about the sacred blood I was hiding. I could really use some advice on what to do with a weapon so powerful it could either save the world or destroy it.

  We walked into the forest, beneath a fading canopy of tall oak and cypress trees. The night smelled of leaves and winter frost. It was getting cooler. At least the sun still provided some warmth.

  Luke followed a step behind me, smelling like man sweat, the good kind that made me think of lumberjacks and firemen. I swallowed the growing saliva in my mouth. My lower abdomen began to burn and the feeling spread between my thighs. Once again, my hormones stabbed me in the back.

  I stopped when I reached a clearing, allowing the sun to shine the brightest. “Why did you come here?"

  He shifted his weight to his other foot. "My gut tells me you had something to do with that missing briefcase, which means you were inside that room of Silas’. Probably well before anyone else."

  I laughed my best fake laugh. "What makes you think that?"

  “First, I smelled you. A lot of you in that room.”

  “Of course you did. I was there with Gerald when they found it.”

  “It was more than that. You were everywhere. It was overwhelming.”

  My pulse quickened. Had I been that careless? “So, did the others say the same thing?”

  “Just me.” He moved closer, seemingly unaware he was doing it. But not me. I was hyper-aware of his body in relation to mine.

  “And it’s not a mistake,” he said. “You were in that room a lot more than you’re letting on. I also don’t think the Greybacks were at Fire Ridge either. I don’t know how you did it, but somehow you created the distraction so you could break into that secret room.”

  “Crazy talk.”

  His heated gaze bore into mine, and the air pressurized, causing a low buzzing on the back of my neck.

  This time, he deliberately stepped forward, crushing the space between us. His hand came up to trace the side of my face. “I would sense you anywhere. It’s impossible for me not to."

  My heart slammed in my chest at his words. "I don’t know what your angle is here, but just because you're tall, dark and sexy, doesn't mean you can make baseless accusations.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You think I'm sexy?”

  I shrugged. “Some chicks probably dig your look."

  His hand traced down and around the back of my neck. He gripped it softly, bringing me just a little bit closer. “And what about you? What kind of look do you dig?”

  My eyes dropped to his mouth and back up to his eyes. I didn't mean to, but I licked my lips. He released a breath, and its warmth whispered across my skin, igniting a heat that rippled throughout my flesh. My knees weakened and chest heaved. Everything inside me wanted to claim him, to take him into my bed and, maybe later, if I got to know him better, if I could discover his secrets, I could see him finding a way into my heart.

  But…he was the friend of my enemy, and that made him my enemy.

  I forced myself to take a step back and shook my head, trying to clear the dangerous thoughts from my mind. "Why are you really here?"

  His mouth tightened, and the spell broke. He also stepped back, as if he just realized what he was doing. And yet, he didn't seem surpris
ed by what had happened. Had he planned this? Anger replaced the heat in my abdomen. "Answer me."

  His Adam’s apple moved up and down. “I want to know what was in that secret room you found. I think we can work together."

  I laughed, his motives made clear. "I get it. You didn't want to work with me before, but now that I might have something you want, you're ready to bare your soul. Am I close?"

  He glanced away from me, shame stinging his face. "I'm sorry, but I really need to know what was in there. It's important."

  I turned my face away, hurt by the way he had almost tricked me. His mini seduction had all been a show so he could get what he wanted. It made my stomach roll. “Screw you. You're just like the rest of them, but at least they're upfront about it."

  "I wasn't trying to manipulate you.” His voice was soft, pleading. "I didn't mean to…” He hesitated and glanced back toward my home. “It would mean a lot to me, but I understand. If you change your mind, let me know. You know where to find me.”

  And just like that, he was gone.

  Chapter 40

  I made my way back to the house, disappointment choking off my breath. A few seconds later, I heard the familiar roar of Luke’s bike as he drove away. I shuffled my way through the leaves, feeling a little guilty. Maybe I should share what I found with Luke. It did seem pretty important to him.

  But then I remembered his loyalty to the pack. I remembered how he had looked me in my eyes and told me that he would stop me if I tried to kill Dominic. He was also secretly meeting with Samira. Luke had too many secrets for me to be able to trust him. I yawned, deciding I’d had enough for today. I still had to get rid of Silas’ disgusting crap, but I didn’t think I’d be able to stay awake a minute longer.

  I crashed on top of my bed, fully clothed. Just a short nap.

  Nightmares invaded my sleep, slithering and twisting across my mind. I sat on a skiff, floating across a calm lake, my powerful arms rowing two oars that dipped deep into the silvery water. Objects bobbed around me. At first, they were fish, swollen and bloated, their bellies up. The cool air turned putrid, and I paddled faster to escape the stench. Dead fish transformed into human body parts. A gnarled hand, a torn ear, severed legs. They floated past me, growing in numbers. Heads and faces came next. Fat tongues squeezed past gray, chapped lips. Milky white eyes stared at me accusingly through sunken sockets.

  I began to recognize the faces. My father. My mother. Siblings. Cousins. All watching me in passing.

  My paddle jerked to a stop deep within the water, as if something had latched onto it. I was stuck in a sea of the dead. Bodies floated as far as the eye could see. The water slowly turned a dark crimson, the same color as the Abydos blood.

  The mouth on a face nearest me twitched as if it were alive. I gripped the edge of the boat, my knuckles bone white, to lean closer to the face. Its eyes were sewn shut, but its mouth was moving. Twitching like it wanted to speak, its bottom jaw dropped suddenly, and a great cry tore through its bodiless head, shouting my name.

  I sat up straight, panting hard and kicking at my sweat-soaked sheets that threatened to suck me under. Stars crowded my vision, and I clawed at my chest as if there was something physically stopping the air from flowing into my lungs.

  Relax. Calm down. You’re safe.

  I thought the words over and over until oxygen filled my lungs again.

  The dream had been so vivid. So real. Those images would haunt me for years.

  After I showered, I watched a little television while I waited for Ryder to wake up, but as the minutes passed by, I grew restless.

  I thought about the stuff in the duffel bag in disgust and goosebumps erupted on my arms. I didn’t want to deal with that, not after that dream, so I went up to the attic instead and grabbed the box.

  Back in my room, I carefully removed the lid as if its contents might jump out and strike me. Everything inside was neatly organized. There was a brown shoebox pressed against the sides, with a drawing of a car and two stick figures scribbled on its top. There was also a thick stack of envelopes held together by a rubber band and a set of blocks stacked evenly within a clear, plastic square. At the very bottom were some thick manila folders. Someone had taken great care of these belongings.

  I removed the shoebox and opened it. I was surprised to find piles and piles of photographs. I grabbed them, curious, and flipped through them. Most were of the same child at various ages. Thick, curly blond hair. Light blue eyes that twinkled when he smiled.

  I turned one over. In neat writing, it said: Silas. Age eight. I turned over several more. They were all labeled. Most were of Silas, but there were some with his parents. I didn’t see any pictures of him with siblings. Maybe he was an only child.

  At the bottom of the stacks, I found a few photos with him and another child. I turned one over and nearly dropped it when I read Dominic’s name. He was two years younger than Silas in the picture. They’d known each other that long? Were they related?

  I searched the rest of the shoebox but found nothing to answer my question. No family reunions, no pictures with anyone else in them.

  However, I did notice a pattern. As Silas grew, the twinkle in his eye, the dimpled smile, was replaced by a scowl and a cold expression. Something had happened to him along the way. I wondered with bitterness if anyone had killed off his family. Asshole.

  I put away the shoebox and turned my attention to the letters. The rubber band encasing them looked new, but the letters looked old. I pulled one out carefully. The folded lines were deep, as if it had been folded and unfolded several times. It was a woman’s handwriting. She talked about college, mostly about her classes and professors. Nothing interesting.

  Based on the lack of personal items in Silas’ apartment, I had thought him a cold, non-sentimental man, but that wasn’t the case at all.

  He just preferred to keep his memories, both good and bad, sealed up in a box, away from prying eyes who might try to discover his strengths and weaknesses. Which was exactly what I had been doing when I searched his room.

  “What are you doing?”

  I dropped the letters as if I was doing something wrong and looked up. I sighed in relief when I saw Ryder standing in the doorway.

  I spread my hand, pointing to the boxes. “This is from Silas’ hidden room. There are photographs of him as a child with his parents. And some with Dominic. Did you know they knew each other as children?”

  He shook his head and joined me on the bed. “I didn’t.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry I slept so long. I don’t think I’ve slept that well in years.”

  “You needed it.”

  “How did everything go with Jackson this afternoon?”

  “I’m in one piece.”

  “I guess that means he trusts you.”

  “I guess so,” I said, not wanting to think about it because, one day, I might have to break that trust.

  “What do you have planned today?” I asked, anxious to change the subject.

  “I’m supposed to meet up with Lola in an hour to make sure she’s okay. I don’t think Silas will accuse her of anything, but I want to make sure.”

  I glanced at the clock and realized it was already late afternoon. “Shit! It’s later than I thought.”

  I wanted to get rid of Hannibal Lecter’s trophies before Lynx came home. I can’t image the horror she’d go through if she saw those jars.

  Ryder’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at a text message. “Jerry’s out front to give me a ride. I got to go, but I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “I’ll see you out.”

  I waited until Jerry drove off before I jogged out back, hoping no animals had found the jars. I needed to get rid of this crap before I had to go into work. The bag looked undisturbed. I slowly unzipped it.

  I glanced inside, and my stomach churned. I shut it, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do with this stuff. I considered burying it, but then animals would probably find t
hem. Or, someone from the pack. I carefully dragged the bag back to the garage, happy I was alone.

  I sat on the ground and looked around, trying to find inspiration around me. Today was trash day, and everyone had their cans out, but the trash guys hadn’t come yet. They must be late for some reason.

  I stood up, brushing off my jeans. I couldn’t think of a better option than dumping them into my neighbor’s trash. It was all I could think of. Dominic’s so paranoid, anyone from the pack could show up at any time and check my trash.

  This thought made me hurry, but I had to be careful I wasn’t caught by any of the neighbors either. I dragged the bag away from the nosey neighbor who lived two doors down from me, and walked several houses down until I found one that looked promising. I should probably do this under the cover of darkness and not a setting sun, but I couldn’t be certain Lynx wouldn’t return for her car.

  Checking to make sure no one was looking, I lifted the lid. It was only halfway full. Perfect. I would dump them inside, then grab some leaves and cover it. I lifted the lid and hefted the bag over the plastic lip.

  The sound of a motorcycle coming toward me startled me, and I jumped, afraid it was Luke. There’s no way I could explain away a bag of severed body parts. I turned abruptly, smashing into a brick mailbox.

  The bag fell from my hands, and I heard a smashing sound. The smell was worse than I could imagine. Formaldehyde mixed with the smell of decomposing body parts. I gasped for air, realizing I’d gotten it on my shoes and jeans. One of the jars rolled out and continued down the hill. Had I not zipped the bag?

  Shit!

  I chased after it, looking like an idiot. Holy hell, I hoped no one was watching me. The jar picked up momentum and, just as I reached down to grab it, it slammed into the curb, splashing liquid on my hand. A swollen and gray tongue brushed across my skin before it landed on my shoe.

  Yelping, I instinctively kicked it away and it flopped along the pavement. I lurched, nearly spewing the liquid in my stomach. Gritting my teeth, I pushed the bile down and stared at the tongue in horror, as if it might come alive and yell at me to quit being a jackass and to hurry up. Reacting quickly, I kicked it again, aiming for the storm drain. It skidded across the ground then rolled over a couple of times, stopping just shy of the sewer.