Series Firsts Box Set

by Laken Cane

  She snorted.

  He stood on the bottom step. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He put his hand on the railing. “I know the last couple of days have been hard on you. Seeing Brooke’s body, especially. I want you to know I’m available if you need a shoulder. Or any other body part.”

  She laughed. “You’re a freak. And I have company.”

  He narrowed his eyes and looked, for one fleeting moment, so much like Eli that she swayed.

  He leapt the rest of the way up the porch and took her arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “You just…for a moment your resemblance to the alpha was disconcerting.”

  “Ah yes. The wonderful alpha.”

  She pursed her lips. “You two aren’t close.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I have a brain. It has the ability to handle complicated things.”

  “I wasn’t raised up in Waifwater around the Deans. Eli and I are just getting to know each other. I haven’t been in town long.”

  “You’re luckier than you realize.”

  He looked away. “I know my father was an asshole, Abby. He’s the reason my half-brother is such a controlling, suspicious…alpha.”

  “Did you take the Dean name?”

  “Nope. My last name is Damon.”

  She put a hand to her chest. “You’re a Damon? One of the Damons?”

  “Guilty.”

  “You’re a hunter. Of course you are.” Suddenly, it was obvious. He had a hunter’s look about him. He was full of a hunter’s charm, and there was a hunter’s danger hidden deep in his sparkling eyes. “The Damons have been hunters for hundreds of years.”

  He smiled. “I’m aware of my family history, princess.” Then he lost his smile. “Both sides of it.”

  “Why did you come here? I mean, to Waifwater?”

  He shrugged. “It was something I needed to do. Look, Abby. I didn’t come here to discuss my dark family secrets. I wanted to see you.”

  He was too close to her, in her space.

  Knowing he was a demon hunter changed everything. She could no longer enjoy his company. And the last thing she wanted to do was make him suspicious.

  Demon hunters were notorious for being driven by a zealousness the rest of the world didn’t really understand.

  There was always a story behind that obsession.

  Nothing mattered as much to them as killing their next demon.

  They could smell them. Sense them. It was as though they’d been born with demon sensors in their brains.

  Maybe they had been.

  And the Damons were the most notorious of all the demon hunting families.

  An icy hand squeezed her heart. What if he sensed Jewel? If he suspected there was a demon near or in or around her house, he would not let it go. Not until the demon was dead.

  “You’re a Dean and a Damon,” she said. “That’s a powerful combination.”

  “Ask me to come inside, Abby.” His stare was hot, intense, and, she was afraid, saw much more than she wanted it to.

  At that moment, Becky walked out onto the porch. “Abby?”

  Mel’s entire body stiffened.

  Relieved, Abby relaxed. “You’re just full of surprises today, Becky. Since when did you ever come out of your room to socialize with my guests?”

  Becky said nothing and didn’t take her stare off Mel.

  “Mel, this is my friend Becky—”

  “Becky Bates,” he interrupted. “I know who she is.”

  He didn’t offer Becky his hand, and he didn’t smile.

  Becky continued to stare at him with eyes that anyone but Abby would have seen as empty—but Abby had seen Becky’s empty-eyed look, and that wasn’t it.

  “Are you okay, Beck?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” Becky answered.

  Mel grunted. “Too bad you have company, Abby. I was looking forward to a little visit.”

  He and Becky watched each other, neither of them so much as twitching.

  Abby frowned. “What’s going on with you two?”

  They continued to stare at each other, silent, angry, almost...accusing.

  “Mel,” Abby said, finally, “maybe you should go.”

  “Yeah.” He gave Becky one last look, then walked back down the porch steps and strode to his truck.

  “Becky?” Abby said. “What on earth was that all about?”

  Becky trailed her fingers over the doorframe, then stepped across the threshold. “You should stay away from him.”

  Abby frowned. “Why?”

  “He lives a dangerous life. You can’t see past his charm, but I can. He’s more dangerous than his grandfather ever thought about being.”

  Abby shuddered and clutched her wand. “I—”

  But Becky wasn’t finished. “The Dean men are all warped and vile in their own way, my little witch. It’s in their blood. You should stay away from Mel Damon, and you should forget about the alpha.”

  “Dammit, Becky.” Abby shoved past the empath and strode through the doorway. She sat at the table and waited for Becky to join her. “I hate that you can read me like a bloody children’s book. It’s almost as bad as Jewel stabbing at my mind with her bony demon fingers.”

  “I hope my sensitivity to your thoughts and feelings is not quite that bad,” Becky said, dryly. She sat down and reached across the table to take Abby’s cold hands in hers. “I care about you, Abby. I’m just trying to protect you. Just as you protected me.”

  Abby squeezed her fingers. “It’s not necessary, Beck. I can protect myself.” She slid her hand out of Becky’s grip and patted the wand on the table. “My mother made me an obedient wand.”

  Becky sighed. “Keep it close. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Becky Bates.

  That night, when Abby went to bed, she couldn’t sleep because the past came back to batter her mind and rip at her heart. The past never stayed buried forever.

  Maybe Becky knew. Maybe that was why her visits were so infrequent.

  Abby hadn’t been able to kill William Dean when he’d raped her—but when she’d found him attacking the little nine year old Becky Bates, she hadn’t even hesitated.

  Both children had a hand in his death, but mostly Abby. She’d used her wayward wand to stab him until he was dead, and then she stabbed him until he was nearly unrecognizable.

  The power she’d sent from the wand had kept him from shifting, and it was that same power that had killed him.

  And when it was over, Abby had scooted back on the ground, in shock, covered with blood. Becky stumbled to her and crawled into her lap.

  Then they’d simply stared at the body.

  A shadow had suddenly blocked out the scorching summer sun, and she’d looked up to see Wade Hansen standing over them.

  “Aren’t you the little Cameron girl?” He’d ignored the bloody body.

  She’d nodded, numb. Too numb to be afraid.

  He’d squatted beside them. “I know about William Dean.”

  Becky had hidden her face against Abby’s chest.

  Abby had been past speaking.

  “Go down and wash up at the creek,” he said, standing. “Clothes and all. Never speak of this.”

  He’d gotten rid of the body.

  She’d never asked him what he’d done with it. Had never spoken of it again, except to her mother, and then only once.

  But she was nearly certain he’d tossed the body into Waifwater Woods.

  Becky Bates had gone to live in Abby’s house until the crazed demon witch had destroyed their lives, and then they’d been forced turn her over to children’s services.

  Because later on during the year of the rapes, Acadia had cursed Abby. Had given her a monstrous face. She’d been insane with rage over Henry’s decision to return to Basilia, and she’d punished him by cursing his daughter.

  There’d been
no time to heal or get help with her nightmares and guilt or to deal with anything that had happened to her.

  Soon after, Henry had created the pocket, and at the age of thirteen, Abby had been forced to become her mother’s guardian.

  Henry and Acadia began a violent, frenzied battle, and they’d both disappeared.

  Becky rapped on her door. “I’m going into town to get your supplies.”

  Abby climbed from her bed, then hurried across the floor to yank open her door. “That would be such a help, Becky. I do hate going into town.”

  Becky smiled and held up Basilia’s list. “I don’t mind. No one dares talk to me.”

  Abby grinned and hurried to the bureau to fetch the cash Becky would need. “Let me add a few things to my mother’s list before you go.”

  Becky nodded and handed her the list, then poured Abby a cup of hot coffee. “There are eggs on the stove.”

  “Thanks, hon. You’ve been busy this morning.” Abby scrawled a few items on the list, then handed it back to the girl.

  Becky shrugged. “I don’t sleep. And from the looks of the dark circles under your eyes, you didn’t sleep much yourself.”

  “I just want to find that talisman so things can get back to normal. If it discharges before we find it, the pack will be unprotected.”

  “I told you bad things are coming.”

  A cold, hard fist settled in the pit of Abby’s stomach. “Is there even a little doubt?”

  “Doubt as to what exactly is causing the chaos and pain, maybe. But it is coming, Abby. It is.”

  “That’s really why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  Becky paled. “What?”

  “To help me with whatever is coming.” She frowned. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh. I thought you meant…”

  “What, Beck?”

  “I seem to bring trouble with me wherever I go. I didn’t want you to think I brought it to you.”

  Abby pulled her into a hug. “I would never think that.”

  Becky walked to the door. “Eat your breakfast. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “And we’ll have time to talk about your love tonight. Right?”

  Becky waved over her shoulder and opened the door. “We’ll see.”

  As soon as Becky left the house, Abby downed her coffee, then grabbed her wand and headed out the door.

  “Sadie, Elmer, let’s go!”

  She strode to the broom closet, the dogs trotting along beside her. She was going hunting for a talisman. She’d be back before Eli arrived at noon, and then she’d continue the search with him.

  Sadie and Elmer sat on their haunches, tongues lolling, as she fitted her wand into the huge padlock on the worn yellow door.

  She pulled the door open, inhaling deeply. “I do so love that new broom smell.”

  The shed wasn’t a place she visited often, for she rarely traveled.

  But that morning, she was full of energy, despite her sleepless night, and she wanted to take a ride.

  “Hello, my darlings.” She walked into the shed and trailed her fingers over the various broomsticks standing regally in their shallow cubbies. Each time she touched one, it shot a gentle blue spark into the cool, shadowy confines of the small room. “Which one of my lovelies shall I take out?”

  The brooms began to hum and vibrate and then expand and contract, as though they were beating hearts instead of sticks of wood and straw, corn husks, twigs, and hair.

  They all wanted to fly. Dolly, a big raw broomstick she’d created not long after her mother’s forced concealment, began jumping an inch or so off the floor. But Dolly, though steady and comfortable, was also slow and gentle, and that was far from what Abby needed at that moment.

  “Ivy,” Abby announced, and even as the other brooms dimmed with disappointment, Ivy burst from her clips and leapt into Abby’s waiting hand.

  Ivy was newish—Abby had created her only two years earlier—and she was fast.

  She might not be as good in a battle as one of the older, more seasoned brooms, but she was eager to please and as earnest as a hungry puppy.

  Smiling, Abby stroked the dark green wood of the broomstick, her caress loving and serene. She loved each one of her brooms.

  “I’ll take you all out more often,” she told them. “I promise.”

  They hummed with contentment.

  Most humans believed the witches simply straddled the broom handle and somehow managed to fly through the air with an uncomfortable stick between their legs, while they held on for dear life and slipped from side to side and hoped not to fall off.

  The truth of it was, the broomsticks were each witch’s personal creations, and once mounted, the enchanted rides became part of their makers. They attached almost like an extra limb, and, if they’d been created by a superior witch, they did exactly what their witches needed them to do—usually before the witch knew she needed it.

  That took the pressure off the rider.

  Abby could wield her wand, swoop through the air, zip away, zoom down, attack, and hide—all without saying a word of command to her broomstick.

  All without a worry of falling off.

  With their broomsticks as wings, witches could fly.

  And it was exhilarating.

  Abby carried the broomstick outside. “I’ll be back,” she told Sadie and Elmer, and then released the broom. It hovered in mid-air, pulsating with excitement.

  She leapt into the air and landed on her feet on the broom, then gave a little yell of joy, jumped again, and came down on her butt.

  Once she found her seat she sat quietly, waiting for the broomstick to attach.

  Ivy took off almost before Abby was ready, climbing steadily into the sky as Elmer and Sadie brayed and followed from far below.

  As she did each time she rode, Abby peered down, her stomach clenched, equal parts terror and ecstasy in her heart. The first few minutes would be the best—and worst—of the ride.

  Flying could be problematic for a woman who had a slight touch of acrophobia—though she was much, much better than she used to be.

  She rarely flew where the humans might catch a glimpse of her, not if she could help it. Being shot out of the sky by an angry, fearful, or overly excited gun-toting individual was not unheard of.

  All she cared about at that moment, however, was getting the talisman back to Eli before Becky’s prediction came true and the town was thrown into chaos.

  She’d caused its disappearance, and she so wanted to find it.

  She flew over the woods of her property, then Ivy eased her down nearer the ground. The dogs were waiting.

  “Hunt,” she told them.

  They took off at once, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps Sadie would catch an old scent where Brooke had been, or maybe Elmer would come across a strange box lying on the ground where someone had tossed it.

  They found nothing.

  Abby headed home, discouraged. More than likely, the talisman was not on her property. Brooke had probably handed it over to those who had conspired with her to steal it, and they were simply waiting for it to discharge before they attacked the pack.

  Eli was strong. His pack was strong. But with the fully charged talisman, they were nearly invincible.

  After she arrived home, she stored Ivy back inside the broom closet before walking to the house. A couple of hours had passed, and Becky should have already returned.

  She’d have just enough time for a shower and some breakfast before Eli arrived.

  As she rounded the corner, Sadie and Elmer growled.

  For a second she thought maybe Eli was early, but then the dogs took off, sounding their loud alarm.

  She hurried to the porch.

  Company was coming, and she was nearly positive it wasn’t anyone she wanted to see.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The quiet hum of an engine reached her ears before the car finally appeared, and she leaned against the doorframe to watch her visit
or drive up the long driveway.

  “Sadie,” she called. “Elmer. Here.”

  They’d been trotting alongside the car, teeth snapping at it, growls sounding between barks.

  They went immediately to her when she called. “Hush now,” she told them.

  The dogs quieted and sat on their haunches in front of her, their bodies twitching with eagerness.

  She felt the driver watching her through the tinted windshield, and finally, impatient, she waved her wand at him. “I don’t have all day!”

  The driver’s side door opened and a man in a dark suit stepped out, ignoring her as he carefully shut his door behind him, dusted off his jacket, and finally, began to walk toward her.

  The dogs quivered and shook, their high pitched whines loud in the quiet air. She frowned.

  It was Eli’s beta, Noah.

  She clenched the wand as the blood drained from her face. “Something has happened to Eli.”

  His stare was thoughtful. “No, ma’am. As far as I know, Eli is fine. He plans to drive up here in a couple of hours.”

  She could breathe again. “Why are you here, Mr…?”

  “Redwood. Noah Redwood. I need to talk to you. May I come inside?”

  Her curiosity was eating her alive. What on earth could Eli’s beta want with her?

  “Come in. But do not think for a moment that I am helpless against an attack.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”

  There was no fear in his dark eyes.

  But there was respect.

  “Please,” she invited, once they entered the living room, “have a seat. May I get you a beverage?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll just say what I came to say and get out of your hair.”

  She sat down across from him, turning automatically so that he had only her profile, then shaking her hair so it fell in a protective curtain over the side of her face. “What can I do for you, Noah?”

  “Eli won’t find the talisman.”

  Surprised, she glanced at him. “Why not?”

  “You know as well as I do he searches in vain. The talisman is gone. If it hasn’t already, it will lose its charge soon. The pack is in danger. Eli is in danger.”

  She shivered as a dark, cold shadow slid through his eyes, and clenched the wand a little more tightly. She was in the room with a wolf—and she’d learned a long time ago to be careful around the wolves.