Pure Blood (The Pure Blood Series Book 1)

by Katie Dunn

  "Really? I thought Tom mentioned something about some exchange students from Australia are living with you now," she pushes. That hit a nerve more than I'd like it to. I try not to show my inner dismay. "Right. Their names are Chase and Ryan. They're brothers. They're gonna be living with us for a while."

  Samantha nods her head. "I see. So how do you feel about having them around? Do you like them?"

  "Yes, I love having them around," I say. "Chase is very kind and Ryan is hysterical."

  Samantha grins. "That's good. And how are things with Riley?"

  I grin as well. "Just the same old, same old."

  Footsteps sound from the hallway, and I hope that it's Tom coming to save me from this awkward chit-chat. Sure enough, Tom and Jonathan round the corner. Tom smiles at the sight of me, while Jonathan looks disappointed. "Wait, you're still dating her?" he asks Tom.

  How should someone respond to that? Because I know I'm speechless. This is a new low for Jonathan. He's always been rude, but this is too much. Even for him. Just when I thought maybe I could try to score some points here, the Lucases do it again.

  I open my mouth to make some kind of remark, but Tom speaks. He rolls his eyes. "Yes, Dad. I'm still dating Britt."

  I don't know if it's out of affection or just in spite his dad, but Tom kisses me. "You look beautiful."

  I want to run for the door, but I know how important it is to Tom that his parents finally accept me as his girlfriend. As much as I hate his parents, I don't want to disappoint Tom. "Thank you. And you should wear a suit more often," I joke.

  Tom smiles again. "I think it's finally time for dinner," he says, looking up at his mom.

  "I think you're right, dear," she agrees.

  We all follow Toby to the dining room and sit down to eat. After we pray, a couple of the maids bring our food and drinks, and we dig in. On everyone's plate is s a bacon-wrapped filet mignon with mashed potatoes and asparagus. Jonathan and Samantha look proper as they eat, and Tom wolfs his food down. I think he does it intentionally, trying so desperately to be the opposite of his parents.

  "Slow down, Tom." Samantha says. "You're going to choke."

  I can't help but let out a small giggle at the way he eats his food. Jonathan glares at me. "You think it's funny? That my son has no manners?"

  Tom jumps in. "She didn't mean anything by it."

  Jonathan glances between his son and me. After fighting some inner demon—which with Jonathan could be quite literally—his expression softens, and he sighs. "You are right. I'm sorry, Britt."

  A chill runs down my spine. Did Tom's dad just apologize to me, or did I imagine it? I think it actually happened. I open my mouth to say something, to say anything, but nothing comes out. Honestly, I have never thought to hear Tom's parents apologize to anyone for anything, ever. It's just not who they are.

  "Um, thank you. I accept your apology," I say, kind of unsure of everything. Jonathan nods his head and goes back to eating. I glance at Tom. He smiles at me and takes my hand in his.

  I can't shake my astonishment. All for a simple, "I'm sorry." It's a small thing, but at the same time it's a big thing. If you can picture my surprise at this, you can imagine my shock when Troy comes bursting through the dining room's French doors.

  TWELVE

  THE LUCASES ARE more shocked than I am. Everyone gasps and watches with wide eyes. It's almost hilarious to see the looks on Jonathan's and Samantha's faces. I'd be laughing at their expressions if Troy weren't the one bursting in.

  Troy's impact makes the glass from the doors explode everywhere, as he lands on the floor. He quickly jumps up and looks in the direction he's just come from. His breathing is heavy, and he has cuts and red blotches on his skin. The cuts have obviously come from the glass, but I have no idea where the blotches could have come from.

  Troy dismisses whatever he was looking at and for the first time notices everyone staring at him. "Oh, hello. Nice night for a stroll, eh?"

  I run to his side. "What happened? Are you okay?" I ask as I brush some of the glass off of him.

  Troy gazes up at Tom. "Can you point me in the direction of the bathroom, so I can get cleaned up?"

  Tom stares at us, saying nothing. His parents start freaking out. "Who are you?" Samantha asks. "What are you doing in my house? Why?"

  "Have you no respect, boy?" Jonathan asks.

  Toby, remaining calm, leads us away to the bathroom. Troy and I lag behind so we can talk privately.

  "What the heck were you thinking?" I ask.

  "Well, you know how I like to make an entrance, Britt," Troy jokes.

  "Troy!" I exclaim, still keeping my voice low. "This isn't funny!"

  Toby opens the bathroom door for us. "Let me know if you need anything else, Miss."

  "I will. Thank you, Toby," I say.

  He leaves us and I beckon Troy inside. I rummage through the cabinets and find the first aid kit. Troy leans on the wall beside the sink. "The D'yavol pack was out there."

  I freeze. "What?" Suddenly the matter of the D'yavol pack becomes very real. Hearing about them is one thing. Knowing that they're right outside is another. I feel like I have a knot in my stomach.

  Troy glances at some of the blotches on him. "You didn't think I got these from training earlier, did you?"

  I glare at him. "Troy, quit joking. This is serious." I run a washcloth under the faucet then wipe it over Troy's arm. He winces. "What were you doing out there in the first place?" I ask.

  Troy's cheeks turn red. "I was watching you… again."

  I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. I figured since this is somewhat of a date, Troy wouldn't be spying on me. Now knowing the D'yavol pack is outside, I'm glad he's here.

  "Did you tell Lenny, or am I gonna be getting a phone call in a minute?"

  He smiles and nods. "I told him. And as for my grand entry? The leader of the pack threw me through the doors."

  "So, what? They're outside waiting for us?" I ask.

  Troy shakes his head. "No. I think they're gone. But we should call your parents on our way out of here, and let them know in case the pack tries to go after them."

  I nod. "Okay." Something comes to mind. "Wait a minute. I thought skinwalkers couldn't enter a house without being invited in."

  Troy smirks. "Actually, I have been invited."

  I raise an eyebrow. "When?"

  "Remember a couple of months ago, when you came to visit Tom and brought doggy me along?" Troy reminds me. He's right. I did bring him. Samantha had a cow.

  I smile recalling that day. "So what are we going to do?"

  Troy's eyebrows furrow. "Honestly? I don't have the slightest idea."

  Once I get Troy cleaned up, I tell Tom that I should drive him home. But Tom asks what I was dreading he would. "Why did Chase destroy our doors? And what was he doing out there to begin with?"

  Thankfully, Troy is here to back me up since I'm not the best liar. "Okay, you got me. I was gonna pull a prank on you guys, but then I tripped."

  Tom's face tells me he's unconvinced. "Wouldn't you need more force than that to break through French doors?"

  "Apparently they're not that tough to break, mate," Troy says.

  I push him toward the door. "We better get going," I tell Tom. "I think he's got a slight concussion."

  "No, I don't," Troy says.

  I push him some more. "We'll see you at church, Tom," I say as we walk out the door.

  "I thought you were the one who did all the lying?" I ask Troy in a low voice.

  "Oh please," Troy says. "They never would have bought the concussion thing. I'm too energetic."

  "Well, then, you need to teach me how to lie better."

  "Okay, but can we have this conversation later?" Troy asks. "We have work to do."

  We get in the car. "What? What kind of work?" I ask.

  "I overheard the pack saying something about Rolan Manor. I figured maybe we should go check it out."

  I try to repress a shiver. "But w
hat if they're gonna be there?"

  Troy cuts me a look. "You know I would never put you in harm's way."

  He's right, I do. Troy does care for me. I'm not sure if it's a "man's best friend" kind of relationship or a "I'm his family" kind. I've only known about his secret for a few days now, but it feels like I've known him for so much longer. Which I have, but you get the point.

  Even if the pack is there, I'll feel safer having Troy with me. And of course, I can fling the pack across the room if I need to. "What do you expect to find there?" I ask.

  He shrugs. "Anything, I guess."

  Against my better judgment I buckle up and put the key in the ignition. "All right, Sherlock. Let's go."

  While going down the road, Troy calls my dad from my car. He puts him on speakerphone and quickly recounts his encounter with the D'yavol pack to my father.

  "They were where?" my dad asks. "Are you two alright?"

  "Yeah, Dad. We're fine," I assure him.

  "We were calling to give you guys a heads up in case they came your way," Troy explains. "If they do show up, Lenny should be able to sense them."

  "Okay," Dad says. "We'll be careful. You guys are on your way home, right?"

  I sigh. "No. Funny thing—"

  My dad realizes what I'm getting at. "Where are you going, Britt?"

  "We're gonna go check something out," Troy says. "We won't be long, Liam." He hangs up.

  "Did you hang up on my dad?" I ask out of astonishment.

  Troy puts his arms behind his head like a pillow. "Maybe."

  "You do realize that he's not gonna be very happy with us, don't you?" I point out.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see Troy smirk. "Take a deep breath, Britt, and drive."

  I was certain we reached our destination when we passed the most expensive house on Ember Ridge Road. Everyone who lives in Brighton knows the Rolan Manor. The Rolan family is the richest family in all of Brighton except the Lyles. I have never actually met any of the Rolans. Their youngest daughter is in the grade below mine, but we've never introduced ourselves.

  I park my car in their circular driveway and get out. Troy and I walk in silence to the front door. Not a thing appears to be out of the ordinary. The yard and bushes look neatly trimmed, and the outside of the house is spotless. I would say we came to the wrong house, but Troy swore he heard the D'yavol pack talk about this place.

  We step up to the door, and Troy knocks. Nothing happens. Nobody comes to the door.

  I glance at Troy. "Anything?"

  He knows what I'm asking. If there's anyone here, he could hear that person's thoughts. He shakes his head. "Not a thing." He places his hand on the doorknob and tries to open it. Locked.

  He glances at me. "There's no time like the present." Before I can ask him what he means, he takes my hand and holds it over the door handle. "Now, imagine the lock opening."

  I do. I can't deny the warmth of Troy's hand, which—I won't lie—feels pretty nice.

  Troy's magic surges through me, and mine does the same to him as we work together to unlock the door. A moment later we hear a click. Troy lets go of my hand and opens the door.

  "And that is how you use the unlocking spell," Troy says with a grin. His grin makes me grin.

  Troy leads us inside. In the dark, I barely notice the light switches on the wall. I flip all three of them, but no lights come on. "Power's out," I say.

  Troy turns to me. "Doesn't your phone have a built-in flashlight?"

  I hand it to him. "Yep."

  Troy turns it on, and we explore the house. Nothing here shows signs of a break in. Much like the Lucas home, this one is immaculate. The shelves are organized perfectly, and the layout of the rooms is arranged in no better way. Even the crown moldings are quite magnificent. The place almost makes my house look like a dump—almost.

  As we search the residence, I have an uncanny awareness that something may jump out at us at any minute. I stick close to Troy in case anything does. Not much here raises any alarms, but I cannot shake the feeling of something wrong.

  Once we've inspected the entire bottom floor, we progress to the stairs. As it turns out, my subconscious is right. A thick line of blood leads up the stairwell, as if someone has been dragged up the stairs.

  I grab the back of Troy's shirt out of fear and step closer to him. He looks over his shoulder at me. "It's okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

  I nod at his words. I know, I say in my head, acknowledging his ability to hear me.

  Troy places each foot on either side of the stairs, careful not to step in the blood. I go up after him, desperately trying not to fall behind. We pursue the blood trail into what seems to be the family room. Troy shines the light over the room then back to the blood—which leads to Mr. Rolan's body.

  THIRTEEN

  I TRY TO resist the urge to scream. The sight before me is pretty gruesome. I can hardly tell who the body belongs to, but because of his larger structure, I know it has to be Mr. Rolan. His remains give the impression that he has been mauled by an animal. Lacerations cover him from head to toe and certain parts of him appear to be ripped apart.

  After I find my voice, I say the most ignorant thing possible. "Didn't a horror movie start like this, once?"

  "Yeah, once," Troy mutters. He inches near to the corpse. "Hey, look at this."

  I observe several different sets of bloody paw prints. They all lead down the hall, then split off to various rooms. Troy turns to me. "How many family members are there?"

  "Um…" I can hardly speak; it's as though I'm afraid to. "Uh, six. That's including Mr. and Mrs. Rolan."

  He nods. "I see. I'd also like to know how you found us, Liam."

  I turn around. My dad strides through the doorway, anger and concern radiating off of him. To my surprise, he draws me into an embrace. "Are you aware of how stupid this was?" he breathes in my ear.

  "How did you know we were here?" I ask.

  He pulls back. "Because fathers always do." Leave it to my dad to say something like that. Which I guess most fathers do.

  His gaze shifts to Troy. "You are supposed to be keeping her safe. Not deliberately taking her to these places."

  A pained look crosses Troy's face.

  My dad continues. "I understand you would try your very best to protect her, but what if she got hurt anyway?"

  Troy meets my gaze. I can tell by the dark look in his eyes, he envisions my dad's rhetorical question. "It won't happen again," Troy tells him.

  "Thank you," my dad says. "Now, I guess it's up to us to find the other Rolans."

  ͠

  The church is abuzz with conversation concerning the Rolans. Normally, Brighton Baptist Church is a quiet, calm small town church—not today. Today people are talking much louder and more frantically. It's actually a little scary. Every Sunday everyone talks in whispers and low voices so as not to disturb the peace. It is strange for the church to be so noisy.

  My family and I sit on our usual pew. Troy and Lenny's addition causes us to take up the entire row. My parents sit on one end, and I sit on the other between Troy and Kendall. Though the row is a bit cramped, I try to turn enough to talk to Tom. He and his parents always sit behind us, so Tom and I can be near each other.

  "Isn't it awful?" he asks. "I never did meet any of the Rolans, but they were generous people." It's true. The Rolans often donated money to numerous causes and spent their time volunteering for various benefits. They were one of the very few rich families who put others first.

  "It truly is a shame," I agree. I don't say much more about it. Tom can't know that I was there and saw the bodies. After my dad found Troy and me at Rolan Manor, we checked the other rooms in the house and found the other dead family members. Later on, my dad made an anonymous call to the police station that several people had been seen breaking and entering. We left before the police arrived.

  "Britt," Kendall whispers.

  I lean closer to him. "Yeah, buddy?"

&
nbsp; "Tom's parents look mad. Did you do something?" he asks.

  I promptly glance in their direction. "No. I didn't do anything. Troy did."

  Kendall looks at Troy. "What did you do to make them mad?"

  "I destroyed their French doors," Troy mutters.

  I shake my head. "It wasn't completely Troy's fault," I tell Kendall.

  "It was the D'yavol pack," Lenny states. "We need to stop them."

  "But how?" Casey asks.

  "We're not strong enough," Derek says.

  "That is enough," my dad intervenes. "You kids do not need to be talking like this on Sunday."

  Dad's right. It is Sunday. A day for praising the Lord, mourning the Rolan's deaths, and resting. We should be talking about other pressing matters—not how to take out a group of psycho murderers.

  I turn my gaze to Troy. Later?

  He nods and beyond him, I watch as Melinda Lyle squeezes through the crowd to reach my family. "Priscilla, dear." She steps over Tom and his parents to be near to my mother.

  "Hey!" Samantha squeals.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Jonathan yells. I catch a small smile spreading across Tom's lips.

  "How are you today, Melinda?" My mom asks.

  "Oh, I'm just fine," Melinda assures her. "I wanted to ask if you would be interested in helping me set up everything for the party on Friday?"

  Of course, my mother agrees. "I would love to. And I'm sure Britt wouldn't mind helping either."

  I stare at my mom with wide eyes. Did she really just volunteer me to help with the Lyle's party? I barely want to attend this party, let alone participate in the work. Plus, she knows how I feel about Dean. I hope she knows that if Dean is there while we are setting up, I'm out of there. No questions about it.

  "Wonderful," Melinda says. "I'm planning on starting Thursday. Maybe after school is out?"

  "That works for me," my mom tells her.

  "Okay, I'll see you then." Melinda turns and steps over the Lucas family once again.

  "Really? Again?" Jonathan and Samantha whine.