by Karen Lynch
She relaxed a little and took a sip of her coffee. “What about the other wolf, the black one who drove them away?”
“What about him?” I asked, curious about what she thought of my wolf.
“Didn’t he break the law, too, when he showed himself to me?” She bit her lip. “I hope he’s not in trouble for helping me.”
I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell her I was the black wolf, but something held me back.
“No, he’s not in any trouble. He didn’t frighten you, did he?”
She toyed with the lid on her cup. “At first, he did because he looked fierce when he showed up. And after I… I didn’t know what to expect. But then I realized he wasn’t going to hurt me.”
After what? I wanted to know what she’d started to say, but I didn’t want to press her. It did make me wonder again what had happened in her past, and if that was why she’d wanted to stay away from us. I hated the thought that a werewolf might have hurt her and given her reason to fear us.
“I’m sorry he frightened you. He was just angry at those other wolves.” I set my coffee down on a coaster. “Whatever happened to you before you moved here, I want you to know you’re safe with us. We have a lot of out-of-town wolves here for a pack gathering, and they’ll mostly stick close to the Knolls. Some will come into town, but they know to behave themselves. If you ever feel afraid for any reason, you can call me, and I’ll come.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. She gave me a wisp of a smile. “I like it here, and I just want to start over and not bother anyone.”
Her eyes were sad despite her smile, and I wished I knew what had happened to her. She was eighteen and looking to start over? It had to be something bad.
I steered the conversation to a more pleasant topic. “It’s a great place to live if you don’t mind how quiet it is. Have you seen much of town yet?”
She nodded. “Some. Scott showed me around today. He was with me at the lighthouse.”
I hid my displeasure. I hadn’t been happy to see Scott with her earlier, but the thought of her spending the whole day with him bugged me. I almost said something but stopped myself. I might not like Scott for some of the things he did in his past, but he really did seem to have changed. It wouldn’t be fair for me to try to come between their friendship just because of my dislike of him.
“Where did he take you?” I asked.
“The lighthouse, the mall, and a coffee shop,” she said. “Oh, and the marina, although we just drove past it. We mostly drove around. New Hastings is bigger than I thought.”
“Yeah, it’s spread out. In the Knolls where we live, it’s mostly farmland.”
Her smile returned. “Sara talked about the Knolls. She said she used to love playing at the farm with you and Peter when she was little.”
I laughed, remembering those days. “We had some great times.”
“You miss her.”
“Yes. It’s hard not to.”
“I know what you mean,” she said softly. “I miss her, too.”
For a brief moment, she let her defenses down and I saw loneliness in her eyes and a sadness that made my chest ache. I didn’t like to see her hurting, but I didn’t know what to do to make her feel better.
“So, you’re a painter,” I said, hoping to make her smile again. “What do you paint?”
Her face lit up. “I do landscapes, mostly.”
“Cool.” I glanced around the living room. “Can I see some of them?”
She blinked in surprise. “Are you sure? They’re really not that good.”
“I’m sure they are if you’re anything like Sara.”
“Okay.” She set her coffee down and stood almost shyly. “They’re upstairs.”
She led the way even though I could find Sara’s old room with my eyes closed. I’d spent countless hours at the apartment, and I’d slept on her old couch up there more than once.
I stopped in surprise when I reached the top of the stairs. The loft barely resembled the room I remembered. All of Sara’s things were gone, except for the comfortable old couch I liked. The walls had been painted a light neutral color, and the wood floor had been refinished. Instead of the bookshelves, there were worktables and shelves of art supplies. And there were canvases everywhere, some blank and some finished. In the center of the room stood a large easel with a canvas on it. I walked over to look at the painting she must have been working on before I arrived.
“Hey, this is really good. It’s the view from the kitchen window.”
“You like it?” she asked from behind me. “I’ve been working on it for days, and I can never get the water right.”
“Are you kidding?” I looked over my shoulder at her. “It’s great.”
Her face flushed at the praise, and she came over to stand beside me. “You don’t think the light looks wrong on the water?”
“I won’t pretend to know a lot about art, but it looks right to me. This is early morning, isn’t it?”
“You can tell that?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. At least, that’s what it reminds me of.”
She stared at the painting for a long moment. “I wanted to do some paintings for Sara because she’s been so good to me. I was starting to think I wouldn’t get it right.”
“She’s going to love it,” I said sincerely. “Although, you forgot one thing.”
Her brows furrowed. “I did? What?”
I couldn’t hold back a grin. “The window’s too clean. It needs some wet coffee grounds.”
“Oh…” She scowled at me, but it quickly turned into a smile that made my stomach do a little flip.
“So, um…can I see your other paintings?” I asked, looking away from her.
“Sure.” She went to a stack leaning against a wall and selected one. It took me a few seconds to place the large stone building in the picture.
“Hey, that’s Westhorne.” I walked over for a closer look. It was a great likeness of the original. “I didn’t know you’d been there.”
She looked startled that I recognized the Mohiri stronghold. “I-I spent some time there with Sara. I forgot you’ve been there, too.”
“Pete and I were there for almost a week last fall. Nice place.”
She pressed her lips together as if she was pondering something. “I heard that Mohiri and werewolves don’t like each other. Didn’t you find it uncomfortable there?”
It was strange talking to her about us and the Mohiri. Except for Nate and Greg, I didn’t know another human who knew about our world. Well, not until now.
“I wouldn’t say we don’t like each other. It’s more like we keep to ourselves. We’re all on the same side though, killing vampires.”
Fear flashed in her eyes, and some of the color left her cheeks.
I put up a hand. “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you. You don’t have to worry about any of that around here.” At least, not anymore.
She nodded and put the painting down. When she looked at me again, she appeared less frightened, though her color wasn’t any better. I felt like kicking myself for upsetting her, and I wished again that I knew what had happened to her to make her so jittery around me.
“You okay?” I asked her.
She gave me a wan smile. “Yes. You just took me by surprise, talking about…them.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t mention them again if it bothers you.”
“Thanks.”
“What other paintings have you done?” I asked in an attempt to return to our easy conversation of a few minutes ago.
“Not a lot.” She showed me half a dozen canvases, all landscapes, and it was clear she was talented. I didn’t have to be an art expert to see that.
I looked at a painting of the river that bordered Westhorne. “You’re really good. Do you plan to study art in college?”
“I’m not sure. I have to finish high school first.”
“You’re still in school?” The revelation surprised me, especially with her being on her o
wn.
She pursed her lips, and I sensed we were back in that area she didn’t like to talk about.
“I didn’t finish my senior year, and I have to go back for that,” she explained.
I nodded in understanding. “Pete and I just graduated. We missed a month of our year and we’d be going to school with you if his dad hadn’t talked to the school board.”
Her eyes widened a fraction. “You just graduated? Oh, that’s right, you and Sara went to school together.”
I laughed. “Why? Do I look that young?”
“For some reason, I thought you were a few years older. Are you going to college this fall?”
“No. I waited too long to apply. I’m going to try to do some auto classes in Portland.”
She set down the canvas she was holding and walked to the stairs. “You want to be a mechanic?”
I followed her back to the living room. “Yes. My cousin Paul has a garage, and I’m going to work there a few days a week restoring a classic car.”
“A car like yours?”
“No, a Chevelle. But I did restore the Mustang.”
Her eyebrow rose. “You did that? It’s beautiful.”
I felt an absurd rush of pleasure at her praise. “Took me almost six months but she was worth it. Paul showed pictures of the restoration to a friend of his, and that’s where the Chevelle job came from. We’re hoping it leads to more jobs like that.”
“That’s great.”
I sipped my coffee. If any of my friends could see me drinking iced coffee instead of a beer on a Saturday night, they’d get a good laugh out of it. For some reason, the thought didn’t bother me at all.
“So, you’ve been here a few weeks and you already have a job and you’ve met the local wolves.” I smiled and I was glad when she returned it. “Sounds like you’re settling in.”
“Yes. I love it here. I still need to pick up a few things, but for the most part, I’m good.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
She shook her head. “It’s mostly paint supplies. Sara stocked the loft for me, but I think I’m going to go through canvases pretty quickly. There’s so much to paint here.”
“There are some good art supply stores in Portland,” I said. “I took Sara there a few times. If you want, I can take you there.”
I expected her to decline my offer, based on her previous reactions, and I was surprised when she didn’t outright say no.
“Thanks.” She picked up her coffee. “I’m probably going to need a car living here, aren’t I? Sara said I would.”
“You’ll be okay for the summer if you’re not in any hurry to get one. But you’ll want one before the winter.” I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “You have one in mind?”
“Something practical that’s good in the winter.”
I grinned at her. “Well, I can definitely help you there. If there’s one thing I like, it’s looking at cars.”
“I can tell.” She smiled, and I liked seeing this lighter side of her.
I realized I’d stayed longer than I’d intended, but I found myself reluctant to leave. I enjoyed talking to her more than I’d expected to. The girls I usually talked to weren’t as interesting as Emma. Probably because those were the only girls I chose to date and I didn’t want anything deeper with them. Not that I wanted something more with Emma.
I stood and wiped my suddenly damp hands on my jeans. “I guess I should let you get back to your painting.”
She stood as well. “Thanks for coming by and for the latte.”
“You’re welcome.”
She followed me to the door where I turned to face her.
“Let me know if you want a ride to Portland. You can call me anytime.”
“Thanks,” she said softly. She smiled, and I was struck again by how beautiful her eyes were. How had I not noticed that about her the night we met?
“See you around,” I said as I opened the door. I shut it behind me and stood on the landing, listening to her slide the bolt. Part of me wished I was still on the other side of that door with her, while another part of me said I should run far and fast.
“Oh, man, this is not good.”
Chapter 6
Emma
“Where are we going?”
I pushed open the gymnasium door. “Not far, just to the parking lot. The booze is in my mom’s car.”
“Oh, cool.” Tess looked behind her for a moment then followed me down the corridor to the main entrance. “We can’t be gone too long, or Chrissy will get mad at me for leaving her.”
I didn’t answer, leading her down the steps and across the parking lot to the silver minivan in the darkest corner. The side door slid open as we reached it, and Eli got out, his dark eyes running hungrily over my new friend.
“Hello, sweet thing,” he drawled.
“Wh-who are you?” Tess asked fearfully.
“I’m your future,” Eli said as I hooked my arm around Tess’s throat and felt her go limp.
* * *
I knelt on the bed and leaned over the unconscious girl. “Wakey, wakey.”
Tess’s lids flickered, and she stared up at me, her eyes round with terror. “Please, don’t hurt me. Please, let me go home.”
“Sorry, can’t do that. Eli’s taken quite a fancy to you.”
Eli entered the room and came over to sit on the bed on Tess’s other side. “You did well, my pet,” he said to me as he smiled down at Tess. He reached across her to snag my shirt and pull me to him. His kiss was hard and punishing, the only way he liked them. Excitement flared in my chest at the raw lust in his eyes.
He released me to give the girl his full attention. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?”
Tess whimpered. “Please…”
He laughed and leaned over her. “I love it when they beg.”
Tess’s eyes widened, and she bucked against him, her lips parting in a scream as Eli showed her his fangs. I could smell her terror, and it only fed my own hunger.
I grabbed her arm and latched on to her wrist as screams filled the room. Sweet, warm blood flooded my mouth and hit the back of my throat…
I choked and sat up, gasping for air. My stomach rolled violently, and I gagged on the bile rising in my throat. I almost fell out of bed in my rush to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I started to vomit.
Tears ran down my face as the retching turned to sobs. I flushed the toilet and wiped my face, but the tears continued to flow. In my head, I could hear the girl’s screams, and I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to block them out.
“It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me,” I chanted over and over as I was forced to relive the girl’s horrifying last hours. I sank down on the toilet, rocking, with my arms wrapped tightly around me. But nothing could make the images go away, not until my soul had been flayed open for the evil in my past.
It was the same after every dream, each one about a different victim. The vamhir demon was dead, but I was still a prisoner, forced to bear the weight of all those murders, all those lives taken in such a gruesome manner.
When the shaking stopped, I stood weakly and splashed cold water on my face, not caring that my hair got wet in the process. I leaned against the vanity and brushed my teeth. Then I went to the dresser and pulled a thick leather-bound journal from the bottom drawer. I sat on the bed with the journal and a pen and opened it to a new page.
My fingers trembled as I began to write.
Tess Andrews, 16
Henry Ford High School
Detroit, Michigan 2002
…
I didn’t stop until I had recorded every memory of Tess’s last night alive. I wrote about singling her out in the school gym because she was exactly Eli’s type, and how I’d easily befriended her and lured her outside. We’d taken her to the house Eli had procured for us, and the two of us killed her after Eli had played with her for hours. Before the sun came up, he’d made me bury her deep in a corner o
f the backyard. Eli had been fastidious about covering his tracks, which meant I’d buried hundreds of bodies over the years. Tess could still be there, alone in that hole, with her family always wondering what had happened to their little girl.
The page was wet in places by the time I finished writing, and I laid down the pen to wipe my eyes. The screaming in my head had faded away, and I lay back wearily against the pillows, feeling drained.
I’d started the journal a month ago, and it served two purposes. After each dream, I wrote down everything I could remember about the victim and how they’d died. I couldn’t talk to anyone about these things, but writing them down helped me come to terms with what I – what the vampire had done.
My second reason for the journal was not for me. Someday, when it was full and there were no more victims to remember, I planned to type out the names, places, and dates and send them anonymously to the authorities, along with the locations of the bodies we’d buried. I couldn’t change what had happened to those people, but maybe I could give their families some closure. It was more than I could do for my own family.
Thinking about Marie and my parents brought on a fresh wave of misery, and my chest felt like it was gripped in a vise.
“God, I miss them so much,” I whispered past the lump in my throat.
Loneliness threatened to swallow me, and I wished there was someone I could talk to. My first thought was of Sara, but I would not burden my friend with this. Sara had been through her own nightmares, and she’d spent the last few months taking care of me. She needed this trip with Nikolas, but she’d be on the next plane home if she knew how unhappy I was.
“Call me anytime.”
It surprised me that I would think of Roland – a werewolf – at a time like this, and I thought about his visit a week ago. I was dismayed when I’d opened the door to see him, but I’d ended up enjoying his company, and I’d even felt a little disappointed when he left. Maybe it was because I was alone here too much, or maybe Roland was easy to talk to and his smile made me forget the differences between us. I could see now why Sara spoke so fondly about him.
