(Un)wise (Judgement of the Six Book 3)

by Melissa Haag

  She walked away to check on her other tables.

  “If we can’t talk about them or us, what should we talk about?”

  “You. What do you like doing? What are your interests?”

  My mouth popped open. “Are you serious?” We were running toward what I considered our impending deaths, and he wanted to get to know me?

  He nodded, and I rolled my eyes. “I like breathing and am interested in staying alive.”

  “Bethi,” he practically growled.

  Maybe this would help convince him. “Okay, okay. So, interests. Well, before I started losing my mind I—” What had I done? I went to school, hung out with friends, sighed over boys, worried about clothes. “I was self-centered and immature. My interests don’t really matter beyond that do they? Not after everything I’ve seen.

  “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t think I am. I think the human society lets me be too easy on myself. I have more responsibility to be a better person than what I’ve been in the past. Sure, I wasn’t horrible, but I wasn’t great either. Shouldn’t we all strive for great?” I thought of the dream with the Taupe Lady and my friend’s funeral. “Shouldn’t we all strive to make a difference? To impact the lives around us in a positive way? To make our experiences count?”

  He watched me with a growing seriousness. “That is a lot of responsibility for someone so young.”

  “See. That’s what I mean. No, it’s not. If we held each other to a higher level of accountability, if we raised our children with those expectations and guided them with our own examples of higher achievement, it wouldn’t be too much. We would be a better people because of it. Instead, we took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up on Excuses-Are-Like-Assholes Boulevard.”

  He opened his mouth to comment, but I shifted my attention from him to the waitress carrying our plates. He turned, saw her, and sighed. I read the promise in his eyes to continue our conversation later; and inwardly, I cringed. I went from trying to convince him I cared to stepping up on a soapbox I didn’t know I had. And I still felt like I had more to vent. I blamed it on sleep deprivation, bad dreams, and his completely gorgeous hazel eyes.

  The waitress set our food on the table and left after our assurances we didn’t need anything else. I kept busy with dousing my fries in ketchup, letting the silence build for a moment. “Can I ask why we can’t talk about us?”

  He held out his hand for the ketchup. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

  I surrendered the bottle and watched him neatly add it to his burger. “Not getting into details, but what part makes you uncomfortable?”

  “All of it.”

  That didn’t make any sense. He took a huge bite of his burger while I struggled with my frustration. Stubborn man.

  He reached past me for the salt as I leaned forward for the pepper. His hand brushed the curve of my breast, and he jerked back as if scorched. His gaze locked on his hand, and he sat there frozen.

  He hadn’t bumped into me hard. No damage done. It’d been an accident. So what was his deal? He continued to…just sit there. I ducked my head trying to make eye contact, but he avoided it.

  His reaction to the incident was starting to offend me. “It’s a boob,” I bit out, annoyed. “I have two of them. They don’t do much. They just sit there. They definitely don’t bite, so stop acting like they’re going to come after you. Grow up.”

  “Please stop talking about them,” he said in a stiff strangled voice.

  I didn’t let up. “You know, sometimes it helps to name the things you fear. Let’s call the right one ‘Everest’ and the left one ‘Fuji’, two mountainous ranges waiting to be....” I never finished. He cleared the restaurant’s door in a few furious strides, leaving me sitting alone.

  It felt good to get under his skin, to see him react in a way that wasn’t calm and confident. It bothered me that it was at my expense. What was so wrong with me that he freaked out at the slightest touch? Other than the fact that some other werewolves wanted to kill me and I had dreams that made me scream loud enough to shake the nearest window...I mean really, who didn’t have some kind of baggage?

  He didn’t go far. My eyes tracked him as he paced back and forth before the restaurant’s front windows. His scowl didn’t let up, and I didn’t feel so frustrated anymore. Smirking, I shook my head and continued eating my fries. He cast an occasional glance in my direction but didn’t appear to calm down.

  When I finished my fries and burger, I waited until he glanced at me to take a fry from his plate. His steps hesitated and his scowl changed to a frown as, with a challenging smirk, I ate the fry. I reached for his second burger. He stopped pacing and watched me through the window. His focused stare and complete stillness seemed a little spooky. The other patrons cast nervous glances at him.

  Slowly, I lifted the burger to my mouth unable to stop my teasing grin. His eyes narrowed, and he reached for the door. I took a huge bite and hastily set the burger back on his plate.

  In just a few steps, he stood by the table looking down at me, his expression carefully blank.

  “Well? Did you lose your appetite or not?”

  He slid into the opposite seat and pulled his plate toward him, not saying a word. His avoidance hurt a little. He didn’t want to talk about us, he didn’t want to talk about the trouble that was out there waiting for us, and he didn’t want to talk about my boobs—which was pretty much the same as talking about us. As I watched him eat, I had an idea.

  “Tell you what. I’ll let you have two closed subjects between us. Two topics we’ll keep completely off limits. Three is ridiculous.” My tone carried a bit of hostility, but I didn’t really care.

  He closed his eyes, finished swallowing, and sighed.

  “So which one are we going to talk about...our plan to reach the compound, the reason you won’t let me Claim you, or my boobs? You choose,” I dared him.

  He set his burger on his plate and took a drink. “They will be waiting for us on all three roads. We could try to leave the bike and take to the woods, but I think they will have scouts ready for that as well. And we’d be slower on foot. Our best bet is to anticipate them and break through before they know when to expect us.”

  “So the longer we take to get there...”

  “The more likely they are to be ready for us,” he agreed.

  After my stunt at the last hotel room, they’d probably caught onto the fact that we knew they were after us.

  “Any word from that Elder?” I asked.

  “He asked for an update, but I kept it vague. He’s not pushing for anything more. He offered his assistance if we needed anything further.”

  That sounded non-threatening. Perhaps we were wrong about him. Still, I’d rather not take the chance.

  “Okay then, wolf-man, let’s get going.” I waved the waitress over for the bill as he finished in one huge bite. I waited impatiently as he paid and she flirted. Now that he’d admitted what I already knew—they would be waiting for us—I wanted to get going. With relief, I walked out the restaurant door.

  “Tired?” he asked before we reached the bike.

  “No,” I lied. After a day on the bike, I was ready for bed even without the pull of waiting dreams, but I didn’t want to delay getting to the Compound.

  He turned to glance at me and only shook his head, not believing me. “We can’t go far with you tired.”

  “And if we take too long to get there, it will only be worse.” I’d had enough creatures flying out of the trees at me. I didn’t want to give them extra time to gather.

  “I could call Gabby and let her know.”

  “No, we don’t know who is betraying us.”

  “You think she would?” he settled on the bike and fully turned toward me tilting his head to study my expression.

  “No, she wouldn’t. At least, not purposely. But, who does she believe she can trust? She could say something to the wrong person. If we stayed
on our own, we might actually make it to the gates of the Compound.” I swung my leg over the back and settled behind him offering the strap. “I’ll do my best to stay awake,” I promised.

  Chapter Ten

  Birdsong and sunlight drifted along the spring breeze that teased my hair. My hair, not someone else’s or a past me. I recognized where I stood. It was the meadow of my others dreams. Only, the great stone monoliths had aged and weathered to stunted broken pillars. Was this then a real dream, pointless and meant to be forgotten as soon as I woke? Unsure, I waited for the Taupe Lady to appear.

  Nothing moved in the open field surrounding the stones. I turned in a slow circle. The dream felt empty, a shadow of what it should be if it were a memory. Yet, real dreams, the pointless kind, were so rare now. I couldn’t believe this was one of them.

  “We need to talk,” I called out. I wanted to shout my questions and make threats, mostly just to vent, but I held it all in hoping she would come to me if I was nice.

  The wind carried her answer to me. “My daughter. Your path is your own to choose. I can influence it no more than I have already done. Remember,” she whispered. “Dream.”

  The dream shifted.

  I sat on a bed covered with a light pink quilt and squeezed the teddy bear in my arms as I listened to the footsteps pause outside my door. Using my sight, I checked everyone’s location in the house.

  Justin had come home for winter break just tonight. I hadn’t met him before but had talked to him on the phone. He’d been so nice to me. His mom usually fostered two kids at a time. They had the room, she’d said, in their hearts and in their house. I’d hoped it would be different here. The other foster girl with me didn’t really like me, but the other girls usually didn’t. Justin, though, had seemed so nice. I’d hoped he would just stay away at school.

  When he’d given me a hug in greeting, it had been just a little too tight. When he’d pulled back and looked me in the eye, I knew.

  I gently lifted the phone from the receiver with a heavy heart. I’d already disabled the sound so he wouldn’t hear me dial from in the hallway. The knob on the door turned, and I quickly set the phone to the side.

  “What are you doing, Justin?” I asked calmly as he opened the door.

  “I just wanted to check on you,” he said with a smile. He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

  I clutched the bear tighter. “I’m fine. I think you should leave.”

  “Don’t be like that,” he begged softly as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I see you got the bear I sent,” he nodded toward the bear I clutched. I’d hoped it would remind him of my age.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Twenty-one. Why are you asking?” He smiled and reached a hand to smooth over my hair.

  “Because I’m twelve, and you shouldn’t be touching me. Not even my hair.”

  He sighed and dropped his hand, his eyes growing puzzled. Then he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Good night, Gabby.” He leaned forward with the intent of kissing me. I dodged out of the way, bumping the table that held the phone.

  “Don’t,” I warned. “Justin, I like your mom, but with you here, I can’t stay.”

  The door to my room opened, and Justin’s mom looked from me to her son. Her face was white with shock, and she loosely held a phone in her hand. Justin looked at her phone then the phone on the table by my bed.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  He scowled. “Nothing.”

  His mom’s eyes shifted to me.

  “It’s time I leave,” I said softly. She nodded and dialed the phone.

  The dream shifted.

  My foster dad leaned over my chair, his arm brushing against my breast as he served me mashed potatoes. I met the eyes of my foster mom at the end of the table. Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away. After dinner, I rushed to the phone and dialed a number I knew by heart.

  The dream shifted.

  Alixe and I had gotten on well for three months before services called asking if she could take on another teen. She assured them I was an angel and that she would have no trouble adding another. When she hung up, she told me that Brandon would be joining our happy home. I tried not to show my disappointment. I asked his age. Fourteen, same as me. Maybe that would make a difference.

  We worked together to make the single bed in the third room. She told me to let her know if there was any trouble. Brandon came to the door an hour later. He stood with his head down trying to hide his face. His swollen eye and nose told his story better than his slumped shoulders and dirty clothes.

  Alixe coaxed him in and spoke with the officer dropping him off. The boy’s abuse was clear. Still, when he risked a look up and met my eyes, I saw a change in him. A small one. He glanced back down quickly, but the slump in his shoulders was gone.

  The next morning, I woke with him standing beside my bed staring at me. “Why do I feel like this?” he whispered to me, close to tears. His hands shook. I wanted to cry, too. I wished I knew why the men around me acted as they did…why they couldn’t just leave me alone.

  “If you ignore me, it will help,” I whispered back. He nodded but didn’t move.

  Finally, he sighed, wiped at his tears, and winced when he touched the swollen skin. Then he left.

  I sat with Alixe at the breakfast table after he’d eaten and left the room. “He needs help,” I said softly. She nodded, looking sad. “I don’t think me being here will help him. He needs you more than I do. Please. Call services. Let them know we talked, and I need a new home so you can focus on Brandon.”

  The dreams shifted.

  I sat at the dinner table across from an older man, warily keeping an eye on him as he ate with gusto. It was my third night in his house and so far everything had gone great. I didn’t let myself get too hopeful, though. My faith in men hadn’t held up well after my experiences with foster care and school.

  He forked in the last bite of spaghetti and meat sauce—more sauce than meat—from his plate and sat back with a sigh. He frowned at my plate. “I know it’s not much,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Sam, it’s fine. I’m just not that hungry.” I eyed the huge mound of noodles on my plate.

  He glanced at my plate, too, and grinned. “I’ll remember to cut the serving back next time,” he promised. I agreed and rose to put the rest into a container and wash my dishes. He stood and waited for his turn at the sink. He kept a respectful distance between us.

  When I was about to leave the room with my school bag, he called my name. I glanced back at him. He looked a little lost as he met my gaze. “You’ll tell me if you need something, right? Lunch money or a ride to the mall?”

  I nodded wondering what he really meant with this unusual line of questioning. He must have sensed my confusion because he sighed and gave a self-depreciating smile. “Cubs are easy. Feed them, give them your time, and they are happy. You don’t need much food, and you prefer to be alone. I don’t know how to raise a human. A human girl is even more,” he waved his hand at me, “confusing.”

  A tiny smile crept onto my face seeing him so flustered. Living with a werewolf already beat living with any foster family, except maybe the last one. My smile faded, and I felt a tad lonely for Barb.

  “If I need anything, I’ll let you know.” I turned and left the kitchen.

  The dreams stopped. Darkness claimed me for a moment before her voice floated in.

  “Every moment you live offers you a chance to learn. Your experiences and your reactions to them make you who you are. Who are you, daughter? And what have you learned?

  The dreams started again. I didn’t struggle against them, wanting to know more about what I faced.

  My stepfather, Richard, looked pale as Blake suggested I take the children outside to play. At just over a year, my brother couldn’t really play outside yet, and the baby shouldn’t be in the sun. I knew that from my mom. My eyes watered thinking of her. We’d just had her fun
eral a few days ago.

  Regardless, Richard told me to take them both outside. One of Blake’s friends followed us out. Either Blake or one of his associates had been with us since Mom died. I didn’t really like any of them. Mostly because Mom hadn’t. Aden fussed, and I gently set him against my shoulder, rocking him side to side.

  “Shut that kid up,” the man with us growled.

  I frowned at him but started whispering to the baby, trying anyway.

  “Bring the older one back,” Blake called from inside.

  The man strode over and for a moment, I thought he would grab me. Then he reached down and plucked Liam up by his tiny little arm. Liam screamed and just dangled there not understanding.

  “Stop!” I yelled, trying to reach for Liam while still holding Aden. The man held him away and went inside. I raced after him, holding Aden tight.

  Richard sat at the table crying, his face in his hands, not even looking at his son.

  “Set him down,” Blake ordered. His eyes remained on me. I thought he meant Aden, and I clutched him tighter. But his friend set Liam down. “That’s not how you carry a child,” Blake said to the man. His voice held little censor. He squatted before Liam, who sat in a sobbing heap on the floor.

  “You do love your brothers, don’t you, Michelle.” He patted Liam on the head and stood again. “I’ll be helping your father for a while, until he’s on his feet again.”

  I briefly glanced at Richard, not correcting Blake. He wasn’t my father, but he’d loved my mom very much. If he felt half the pain I did, I understood how he felt.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Blake said evenly before turning toward Richard. “The contractors will start work this afternoon. We need to keep you all safe.”

  The dream shifted.

  I sat in the boys’ room playing quietly with them. The stifling sterile room echoed back even their quietest whisper, but this was the only place in the house that they were allowed to play. The easiest place to monitor us—me.

  Richard strode through the door with purpose.