Huntress (A Grace Murphy Novel)

by Nicole Hamlett

  He giggled some more and groaned, “Mooom.”

  “Sorry Grace, you’ll have to settle for a phone call. We have to start training tomorrow. We have a goal set remember?” He shot a pointed look at me, which I chose to ignore.

  It had been two weeks. I needed to catch my Bestie up on gossip and life. I wasn’t budging.

  Neither was he.

  I felt my temper rising and the table started shaking violently before the ground followed. This one had come on so quickly that I didn’t have time to react. Picture frames fell to the ground, exploding in a shower of glass and broken wood.

  “Holy Crap!” Dylan exclaimed. “Another earthquake Mom!” He leapt up and ran for the doorframe.

  His reaction startled me and the shaking stopped immediately. Drew looked at me with a frown and then stood up abruptly.

  “I’m going to check and see if there is any damage. Dylan why don’t you come with me? Your mom can clear the table.”

  I was going to say something, but I stopped myself at his warning look. Right, I needed to keep it cool. I hadn’t exhibited any further signs of my power since that day with Diana. I think I was as surprised as much as I was scared.

  I needed to get a handle on why my power seemed to flare up when I was angry or scared. I only hoped that nothing bad had happened with this one.

  Drew stormed back into the dining room his face a mask of anger. “You’re not twelve years old anymore Grace. You have to keep a lid on your emotions. You could have leveled this city,” he hissed looking behind him for signs of Dylan.

  “You don’t tell me to keep a lid on my emotions!” I angrily spat back. “You’re changing my damned life, taking control and I’ll bloody well get angry if I want to!”

  He casually leaned back against the wall and raised his eyebrows at me. “So you want to decimate a city?”

  I closed my eyes, taking a deep cleansing breath. He was right. It was something to be careful of. I just didn’t like him reminding me. I hated that he could boss me around. Too many people had taken control of my life, spinning it into a chaos that left me reeling. Enough was enough.

  My face was an empty mask when I finally looked up into his eyes. It was hard to control the inner rage, the anxiety and the frustration but I gave him dead eyes as I quietly responded, “Push me and we’ll see.”

  I pushed past him and stalked down the hall and slammed my bedroom door. The violence of the action didn’t make me feel better, but the noise did, until I heard a faint – “Jeez Mom” down the hall.

  Zen. I could be Zen. Opening the door, I poked my head out and called, “Sorry! You ok?”

  “Yeah,” was the muffled reply.

  “Don’t forget to pack your backpack for the morning.”

  “Kay!” This word was backed up by a healthy dose of exasperation.

  Not tired, but too chicken to leave my room, I settled under the covers and forced myself to go to sleep. Everything would be fine tomorrow.

  Chapter 6

  I was woken up the following morning by a pounding at my front door, accompanied by an insistent ringing of the doorbell. Arms and legs flailing, I tried to untangle myself from the blankets but only succeeded in falling out of bed. The floor met my ass and I growled at the unpleasant jolt of pain. I scrambled to my feet and pulled on a robe, ignoring the rat’s nest my hair had turned into during the night and a few minutes later, I opened the door with a snarl.

  The man - who had been smiling pleasantly before I opened my mouth - was now backing away slowly.

  "I-I’m sorry, I’m here with a delivery," he stammered.

  Who could say what he saw when the door flew open. By the look on his face, it couldn’t be pretty. I knew I was scowling and the lack of my morning coffee wasn’t helping my mood

  "You better not be at the wrong damned house." I growled at him, cocking my head and staring balefully out of eyes that felt like someone had taken sandpaper to them. I pulled my robe tighter across my chest and frowned harder. My brain seemed to think that if I was enough of an asshole, this guy would go away and let me go back to sleep.

  He glanced down at his clipboard, craned his neck to look at my house number again and then nodded. "Yep this is the place. I have three crates for you. Do you want me to put them in your garage or will the driveway suffice?"

  I looked around him to a huge Semi that had what looked like 3 moving crates on the bed.

  "Those can’t be for me." I blinked at him and tried to peer at his clipboard.

  "You’re Grace Murphy?"

  He took my nod as an affirmative and flipped his clipboard around to show me the details. Sure enough, they were for me. It took me a few minutes to register this information. Why would someone send me three crates - each as big as an SUV? Where the hell was I going to put them?

  "No, I don’t have room in my garage. Can you bring them around into the back yard?"

  He probably dealt with halfwits on a daily basis and I was no different this morning. He shot me a relieved smile and nodded.

  "Yes ma’am. Just show me where to bring them around."

  "Hold on, let me get my slippers and I’ll open the gate."

  Brandon had wanted a boat, so he'd installed a gate large enough to pull a semi through and a gravel drive. At the time I'd been pretty sure he was pissing away the cash, and since this was the first time the gate had been used for anything larger than the lawnmower, it looked like I'd been right.

  I shoved my feet into my slippers and lead him to the gate. "You can put them right here, I guess."

  "Will do. I was told to deliver these before 7:15. I’m sorry if I woke you."

  I smiled halfheartedly and waved him off. "No worries man. Sorry about the growly stuff," I apologized with a grimace.

  He chuckled, shook his head slightly and went back to the truck to get down to business.

  I wandered back inside and started the coffee pot before going to wake up Dylan. He was such a grouch-ass in the morning but if I started now, maybe we wouldn’t be late today. We were generally late every morning, much to my eternal embarrassment. It’s hard to play the perfect mom when you can’t even manage to get your kid to school on time.

  I poked my head around the door and called out. "Good morning sunshine!"

  "Grawmrph... mrph," was the reply.

  I tip-toed up to his bed, slid my hand under his blankets and attacked his feet in a tickling frenzy. He squirmed and I was pretty sure that I heard a giggle but the blanket didn’t budge from over his head.

  "Oh noes! Where did my kid go? I was sure that I’d left him here last night. Maybe he got kidnapped by the Booger Monster while he was stealing kids, one hobgoblin at a time."

  "Moooom," he groaned. "It’s the boogie man. Not the booger monster. Sheesh."

  "Aha! I got you! Now get your skinny butt out of bed and hop into the shower. Maybe we can actually get you to school on time this morning." I smacked his bottom and pushed off the bed.

  I left him to do his thing. Now that he was taken care of, my addictive personality took over and let me know that coffee was top priority. I could smell the brewed ambrosia and let my nose lead me to the source. Ahhh, sweet heaven. I inhaled the steam and dumped in three tablespoons of sugar. Just a touch of vanilla cream and it would be perfect.

  The cream was just hitting the coffee when the doorbell rang again. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, stirred the coffee and brought the cup with me to the door.

  Swinging the door open, I took a sip. All of the coffee in the world wouldn’t help if more visitors showed up at my door this early in the morning but the caffeine fortification was a bonus. The delivery man pushed his clipboard at me. I held up my cup and raised my eyebrows.

  We had an entire conversation in the next seven seconds with our eyes and eyebrows.

  I told him that I wasn’t giving up my coffee for his delivery. He told me that if I’d sign on the damned dotted line he could get the hell out of here.

  I repli
ed in return that if he’d hold the clipboard instead of shoving it at me (I threw in a nod here for good measure), I’d sign the damned line.

  He finally sighed, turned the clipboard around and held the pen out.

  I braced the door with my hip, grabbed the pen and scrawled Wilma Flintstone on the paper.

  He checked my signature and nodded. I told him to have a great day with a cheerful smile and slammed the door in his face. Who delivered anything at seven in the morning? Ugh.

  I padded back through the house - sipping coffee - and called into Dylan’s room. "How ya doin’ in there?"

  "Doin’ good," was the weak reply.

  "Doin’ good, meaning that you’re almost in the shower or doin’ good as in you have already gotten out?"

  "Doin’… Mom! I’m getting into the shower!"

  "You have 5 seconds and then I’m coming in there with a bucket of ice."

  His grumbling drifted down the hallway and I smiled into my coffee cup. Man, I loved being a mom.

  Ah yes, the coffee was finally kicking in and I was well on my way to being sparkly.

  I reached my room and pulled on a pair of sweats, untangled my hair with my fingers and put it up into a ponytail. Thank God for ponytails. I had just enough time to check my email before harassing Dylan some more before breakfast.

  The doorbell rang again.

  This was a conspiracy.

  They were after my sanity.

  Grabbing my coffee, I stomped to the front door and swung it open, ready to blast my latest victim. It was Drew. My posture changed immediately.

  "Drew. Hey," I began awkwardly. I wasn’t sure what to say. I really wanted to apologize for being such a jerk last night but a simple apology seemed too trite. On the other hand, maybe it was just time for me to play it straight. I took a deep breath, ready to just get it out.

  I didn’t get a chance.

  "Did you receive the delivery this morning? I don’t see the crates."

  He was all business as he pushed his way into the house.

  "You’re kidding right? You ordered a delivery at seven-o-fucking a.m.?"

  He rounded on me, his eyes hard and cold. "Not my fault that you can’t be bothered to get your fat ass out of bed in a timely manner. Where are they?" He turned around looking out towards the back yard.

  Wow. Just a few minutes ago I'd been prepared to eat crow - to beg and plead forgiveness for last night, but not now. He could very well kiss the fattest part of my ass before I'd ever apologize.

  I grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him around towards the door, and then shoved as hard as I could. Unfortunately he grabbed my wrist and brought me with him. I stumbled and my coffee mug went flying across the porch and into the bushes.

  Oh this was bullshit! Nobody ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee AND called my ass fat before seven thirty!

  "I could have forgiven the fat ass comment, but the coffee was the last straw."

  I balled up my fist and swung, expecting to connect to jaw. Having never been in a fight in my entire life, it didn’t occur to me that just swinging wasn’t going to work. I missed completely and swung around clumsily. Grr!

  He grabbed my arm, swung me into the house and slammed the door closed before shoving me up against the entry-way wall.

  "Grace, stop."

  "No! You stop. You stop trying to control my life!" I bit out and then stomped on his instep before slamming my elbow back into his stomach.

  The grunt he emitted was satisfying and I turned around - preparing to knee him in the jewels - when I heard the last thing a mother wants to hear.

  "Moooooom! I need some toilet paper!"

  Aww fuck it all. "One minute baby!"

  Drew’s fingers wrapped around my throat and he slammed my head against the wall. Images swam before my eyes along with a few bluebirds and butterflies. I suddenly got the cartoons.

  His face was only inches away from mine when he snarled, "I appreciate the effort, but next time - don't allow anyone to grab you. Use your feet - aim low. Take out a knee. You aim high and you’re leaving yourself open to risk. Now, take care of Dylan, and then you will meet me back here to discuss the crates further."

  He didn’t let me get a word in edgewise, just shoved me toward Dylan’s room. I tamped down the anger and grabbed some toilet paper from the hall closet, muttering under my breath.

  Tossing the TP through his cracked door, I called, "Here you go, Bubby. After your shower, get dressed. I’ll have oatmeal waiting for you in the microwave. I’m going to show Drew some crates in the back yard."

  "Kay, Mom. Are you ok? I heard some banging."

  "Yeah, I tripped on a shoe and threw my coffee out into the yard. I was just pissed and banging around. Now get a move on," I ordered, turning back toward the ‘enemy’ with new determination.

  Listen, confrontation wasn’t my thing but his behavior was completely unacceptable. If I needed to get a little assertive to show him that he would respect me, by God, someone was walking away their balls in their throat.

  Chapter 7

  Drew was sitting at the breakfast bar when I made it back to the kitchen. A fresh cup of coffee was sitting in front of him. He pushed it towards me like it was some kind of peace offering.

  I paused for a fraction of a second, then reached for it and nodded my thanks.

  He didn’t waste time on small talk. "Always go low. If you go high, the chances are greater that the person you are attacking can use your body as leverage like I did."

  I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say. I’d just gotten into a fist fight in my foyer. Jekyll and Hyde much? I was not a violent person but the frustrated anger kept boiling to the surface, pushing me so far out of character that it scared me.

  He seemed to understand my loss for words because he got up from his chair, nodded at my cup and asked me to follow him.

  I nodded stupidly and trailed after, sipping my drink. He’d made it perfectly, lots of sugar and cream.

  "I don’t know why you bother drinking coffee when it doesn’t even taste like coffee when you’re done with it."

  "Caffeine," was all I said in reply.

  "Are you curious about what’s in the crates?"

  "Honestly, I haven’t had time yet this morning to be curious. Between fighting with the delivery guy, fighting to get Dylan in the shower, and then physically fighting with you…" I drifted off after that. He either got the picture or he didn’t. I was exhausted and it wasn’t even eight a.m. yet.

  "Me being here with you - it’s not just to make your life easier. You have to be prepared, Grace. That is my primary goal. If that means that I have to play babysitter, housekeeper and ghost-writer— well I’ll do that. That is not the main purpose, though."

  He looked me up and down. His eyes were assessing and I felt small and bug-like under his gaze.

  "You didn't like being called a fat ass this morning, but you're the one who's let yourself become this –" He waved his hand around in front of me as if looking for the right words. "Grace, you're downright dumpy. I'm not sure how you let yourself get this way, but you have to change it if you expect to survive."

  I could feel myself getting defensive and was on the verge of shutting down and shutting him out, when he put his hand on my arm.

  "I don’t say these things to hurt your feelings. You had every right to get angry. I just don’t understand why you haven’t gotten angry enough to do something about it."

  He paused and ran his hand through his already tousled hair. "Now, you just don’t have much of a choice. We’re on a deadline here. If you’re not ready, you’re going to die."

  He pulled a hammer out of nowhere (yes, literally nowhere) and started to pry open the crates.

  "Where the hell did that come from?" I asked astonished.

  "Hmm," he began, "It's hard to explain. You can think of it like me willing this tool into existence. It's matter manipulation that is fueled by atomic mass, a bit of power and a lot of practi
ce." He grinned at me like he'd just explained the Theory of Relativity to a five year old. "It’s handy and it’s something you will learn."

  "Could you materialize a new pair of Jimmy Choos for me?" I asked excitedly.

  "Don’t get distracted," he replied wryly. "We have real work to do here."

  I started to grin, getting ready for a joke but I stopped myself. "Listen," I started. "I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us. I was a bitch last night and I was going to apologize when you went all dickface on me this morning."

  He leaned against the crate and crossed his arms.

  "Grace, I can read your mind. I know that you were going to apologize to me. I don’t want you to apologize to me. What I want is for that to not happen again."

  He took a deep breath before he continued. "I may have overreacted and went a little far this morning. I guess I was trying to prove that I had the upper hand, too. But, this isn’t about who is in control. As far as appearances are concerned, you are my boss. The reality is this - I am your tutor for the next few months. If you don’t trust me and follow me in this, you aren’t going to survive. I really like your kid and I don’t want him to end up without his Mom because you were too stubborn to let me guide you."

  I listened to him. I mean, I REALLY listened to him. He was right. When I wasn’t grousing about his interfering with my life, it was easy to forget that this guy was sent by Diana to prepare me. I closed my eyes and gave him a short nod.

  "You’re right. I can’t say that it’s going to be easy, but I’ll make the effort to keep a lid on the emotions and trust you enough to get me through this next phase. It’s a struggle to suppress the control freak, but I’ll try."

  "That’s all a man can ask. Now, let’s crack these babies open." He rubbed his hands gleefully together in anticipation and I couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement. I watched as he wedged the tool into a slat and pulled.