Before the Storm

by Claire Ashgrove

  When we bolted up the muddy incline on the opposite side of the stream, I doubled over, my lungs unable to tolerate any more. My thighs burned like someone held torches to them. “I… can’t…” I panted between gasps.

  “You can.” Kale tugged on my hand. His breath was as labored as mine.

  Shaking my head, I sucked in a deep breath. “No. Gotta stop.”

  A touch of exasperation laced his words. “Just another hundred yards. They can’t follow us into camarilla territory.” He pointed toward a looming shadow and sucked in a gulp of air. “Just there.”

  Behind us, water splashed as our two pursuers leapt into the creek. Another thirty feet or so, and they’d be on us. Terror overruled my quivering legs and spurred me forward. I jetted past Kale, one final burst of speed driving me toward the shadowy edifice he’d indicated.

  I couldn’t hear him behind me. But those creatures, whatever they were—they crashed through the shrub like a helltrain on a greased track. Closer. Faster. Closer. Faster.

  An even darker shadow than that of nightfall descended around me. Cool air filtered over my skin. I whirled around, Kale’s name on my lips, scouring for him in the darkness. My heart froze as I spied him standing near where I had stopped, staring straight at the two approaching animalistic figures.

  “Kale!” What was he doing? No way could he outrun them now. They were too close. And what happened when they finished with him? Would those two creatures with their haunting red eyes hunt me down as well?

  Panic swept through me for the second time that night. I might not hold any affection toward him, but damn it, he was still a human being. And he’d been trying to help me, hadn’t he? I didn’t want to be responsible for something happening to him. To anyone.

  Besides, I didn’t know where the hell I was.

  “Kale!” I called again. If you leave me here, I swear I’ll hunt your ghost down.

  Before the sound of my voice could evaporate into the wilderness, his rang through the trees. One shout that lacked definition. The leaves around me began to shiver. Several dozen tumbled past my feet, lazily drifting toward where he stood, then faster, whipping along like someone turned on a powerful vacuum. Beside me, a young sapling bent dangerously toward the ground.

  In the dim light, I glimpsed the lifting of his right hand. The two sets of eyes bearing down on him came to an abrupt halt. As the overhead canopy swayed with the rising winds, moonlight peeked in to illuminate what distinctly looked like reddish-brown fur and four animalistic legs.

  The powerful gust of wind pounded into them. With a yelp, they hurtled head over tail—yes, I distinctly glimpsed tails—and crashed into the ground on the other side of the stream.

  I blinked.

  Kale pivoted in my direction then eased into a lope. As he approached, a grin registered in the crinkling of his eyes, though it didn’t touch his mouth. “All taken care of for now.”

  He was responsible for that sudden wind?

  The realization hit me so strongly I could have sworn the earth tipped sideways beneath my feet. He hadn’t been teasing, hadn’t been humoring me. He was a witch. And if that were true, it must mean I was too. For too long I’d thought I was some freak of nature. There were more like me?

  Struggling to cover my surprise, I frowned at him. “Maybe you should have done that earlier.” Being caught off-guard only left a person open for attack, and I had no intention of letting him discover that he’d unbalanced my understanding of the world around me. I turned my back to him, intending to pick up the general direction we’d been traveling. “I really could have done without the endurance testing.”

  “Hey.” He caught my elbow. Gentle pressure from his fingertips pulled me to a halt. “What’s with the attitude? A little thanks never hurt.”

  Oh, he did not just…

  I let out a snort. “Yeah, you can say that again.” He wanted to lecture me on manners when he had yet to thank me? This guy was something else. A real ego-trip.

  He said nothing, merely stared at me, a frown pulling at his brow. The intense way he studied me made me uneasy. I kept my distance from people for a reason. I certainly wasn’t going to let some guy I’d just met, who’d so far managed to create more trouble for me than I’d experienced in my entire life, weasel beneath the surface. If he didn’t like my sarcasm, well, that was his problem. And damn it, I didn’t like to be touched either.

  I jerked my arm free and kept walking.

  Two strides brought him alongside me. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and kept his gaze on the forest floor. “Maybe we started out on the wrong foot.”

  “You think?”

  “Halle, listen—”

  “No.” My exasperation at an all time high, I came to an abrupt halt. “I’m not going to listen. I don’t want to. I want to go home, go to bed, and wake up tomorrow with today far behind me.”

  Kale arched an eyebrow. “So you can stalk your uncle some more?”

  “Stalk my uncle?” My voice rose in indignation. “What business is it of yours? So far you’ve tackled me twice, almost exposed me to my sister, and left me to deal with your sorry comatose self for four hours!” I threw my hands into the air then let them fall to my thighs. “After all that, you don’t even apologize! And it wouldn’t surprise me at all if you had something to do with those things that just chased us through the woods. I don’t even know who you are!”

  Recalling the chilling creatures sent a shiver wafting down my spine. I cast an uneasy glance at the creek bank and rubbed at the goose bumps on my arms. “What were those things anyway?”

  Kale scuffed the toe of his hiking boot into a pile of dead leaves. He didn’t meet my furious scowl. “Not things. Alternate forms of the Jadukara. Harmless as wolves, but it’s when they get a hold of you and take on their natural shape that you have to worry.”

  More gibberish. A sigh escaped me.

  He lifted his chin a fraction, looked up through his lashes. Blast it all, there was something devastatingly attractive about the wide-open sincerity in those sky-blue eyes.

  I puffed out another hard breath to flutter a lock of hair out of my face. “I want explanations.”

  Kale nodded. “I know. I would too.” He gestured toward a large boulder at the edge of the shade we stood within. “Want to sit?”

  Again, I glanced toward the creek bed. So far, nothing indicated the Jadu-whatever were approaching again. Nor had anything indicated they’d left from where they’d fallen, but I wasn’t going to consider they might still be knocked out.

  As if he understood the direction of my thoughts, Kale shook his head. “They’ve gone home. We’re untouchable within the camarilla territory, and they know better than to hang around.”

  I wasn’t certain whether I should believe him or not, but for the moment, I felt relatively safe. Begrudgingly, I moved to the rock and sat. “Start with that whole camarilla thing.”

  Kale climbed up beside me, drew one foot onto the surface, and looped his arm around his knee. He tipped his head, regarding me in that same unsettling, thoughtful way again. Like he could see clear through and hear the workings of my mind. That probing look unnerved me, but I held his gaze, too afraid that looking away would reveal my discomfort.

  “I’d rather start with the night you killed your dad.”

  My throat felt suddenly sticky. I hated that night as much as I celebrated it. And I despised remembering. It had changed me in ways I’d never imagined were possible; forced me into the isolated world I now lived in. That Kale knew the details, let alone how he referenced the destruction so easily, only made me more uncomfortable.

  But if he could explain, if he could offer insight on why that one night remained the only time I had ever held complete power over my abilities, I’d relive it all again. Slowly, I nodded and gave him a shrug. “Just hurry up. I want to go home.”

  Four

  “You revealed yourself that night.”


  Like a whispering voice from the grave, Kale’s low, solemn words sent chills sliding down my spine. That single statement sounded more damning than hearing the detail-by-detail accounting of how I’d willed the storm into existence, how I’d wished and hoped the energy would explode. How I even stood outside our brown, two-story home, the wind snatching at my hair, watching lightning illuminate the dark silhouette seconds before an F4 tornado splintered it to pieces.

  Hearing all that was nothing compared to the weight in Kale’s last statement. The way he stared at the ground, his head slightly bowed, his shoulders bent as if he carried some unseen weight only added to my apprehension. Who had I revealed myself to? Why did it matter?

  “What do you mean?” I asked, warily.

  Kale let out a sigh and looked up, meeting my frown with those fascinating blue eyes. Even in the muted light, their brilliance shone, bright as the overhead stars.

  “We always knew you existed, Halle. We just didn’t know where you were, or even if you inherited the right power. That night you answered everything. We’ve been watching you since. Trying to discover whether it was just a fluke or whether you indeed have your mother’s gifts.”

  My mother. Something deep inside me twisted painfully. I could barely recall her face, so many years had passed. The only memory that really remained strong was of the rainy afternoon she kissed my cheek before she left for a doctor’s appointment. I was nine that spring. We buried her closed casket four days after the rainstorm forced her car into oncoming traffic. Nine, but damned if I didn’t miss her like the morning of my first day of kindergarten.

  Kale reached across the big boulder we sat on and covered the back of my hand with his large palm. His touch was strangely comforting. For once, I didn’t pull away from human contact. “You do have a gift, Halle. But it’s become painfully clear you don’t know how to use it.”

  He could say that again. I puffed out a sigh. “So what, you’re going to teach me or something?”

  Kale shrugged. He slid his hand away, taking with it the odd sense of comforting warmth. A strange sliver of disappointment pulled through me. I crossed my arms across my chest to ward it off. What was up with that? I didn’t need his affection. Didn’t want it, either.

  “Something like that.” Standing, he dusted his hands across his jeans-clad thighs. “Gerard wants to talk to you.”

  “Who’s Gerard?”

  “The voice of the camarilla.” He looked toward the darkened rock edifice. With a passing breeze, the overhead canopy of fall leaves swayed, and a sliver of moonlight illuminated the frown knitted on his brow. “He guides us all.”

  People have a way of speaking, a way they stand and hold themselves, that can tell someone who’s seen enough lies and deceit whether they’re hiding things. It was in Kale’s voice, the cagey tone and brief hesitation before he spoke; he wasn’t revealing the full truth about this Gerard person. He wasn’t lying, but he was holding something back. Dishonesty would have pissed me off. Holding back—well, that I could relate to.

  It didn’t really matter anyway. I had no intentions of meeting Gerard and this camarilla. Still, I was curious. “What’s he want with me?”

  Kale slowly turned back to me, his expression as thoughtful as ever, that pale blue light seemingly probing beneath my skin once more. If I hadn’t just witnessed his manipulation of the wind, I’d have sworn those eyes were his magical gift. How many women had fallen victim to those intense blue portals?

  Furrowing my brow, I shoved the wayward curiosity aside. Definitely not my concern.

  After a moment of stretched silence, Kale finally answered. “It’s time for you to learn how to control your gift, Halle. The camarilla needs you.”

  “Needs me?” I chuckled. “Sorry, I’m unavailable.” No way was I giving up my quest to put an end to my uncle. Once that was accomplished, once my sister was forever out of harm’s way, I had a spot on Miami Beach marked with my name. I wasn’t sticking around for another Oklahoma winter.

  “Unavailable?” He arched one eyebrow. “From what I’ve observed, you hang out at the coffee shop using their free Wi-Fi all day. At night, if you’re not skulking around your uncle’s house, you’re waiting tables at the Frost Club.” Kale laughed low. “Not exactly what I’d call a demanding schedule.”

  “It pays the bills.” Maybe not bills—I didn’t really have any. But it kept me fed.

  “Yeah, I hear your abandoned warehouse corner with the ratty mattress is high-end real estate.”

  I narrowed my gaze, despite his very valid point. “Can you say stalker any more clearly?”

  “I’m not stalking you.”

  “Uh-huh. Whatever you say.” Shoving to my feet, I gave him a shake of my head. “I’m going home.”

  As I skirted around him, Kale grabbed me by the wrist. I jerked back, shook my hand to break his hold. Come on. Just this once it would be nice to have my abilities cooperate. If he hadn’t learned anything about grabbing me before, another bolt of lightning would surely do the trick.

  But the press of Kale’s fingertips against the soft underside of my wrist didn’t evoke the rage that unleashed the heavens. It frustrated me to no end, yet at the same time, there was something wholly enjoyable about the subtle strength in his grip. Damn him. I glared at where his palm connected with my skin. “That’s either pretty bold or pretty stupid.”

  It was Kale’s turn to shrug. “I’ll take my chances. I promised to bring you in. I don’t break my word.”

  All I could do was blink.

  “C’mon.” He tugged me forward a step. “It’s this way. Beyond this rocky outcrop.”

  “Are you deaf?” Once more I yanked on my arm, this time freeing myself from his grasp. “I’m not going.”

  “Fine then. Which way’s home?”

  Certain I knew exactly where I was, I rolled my eyes and raised my hand to gesture westward. But when I went to point at the tall radio tower lights that rose above the deserted warehouse I called home, no red bulbs flashed on and off. Slowly, I turned a circle, scouring what I could see of the night sky through the thick canopy of trees.

  Nothing.

  No lights. All stars. Not even the glow of the city on the horizon.

  What the hell?

  The smirk dancing on Kale’s mouth made me want to deck him. I clenched a hand, resisting the temptation. Somehow I had feeling it would be wasted effort. He might stumble, but he certainly wouldn’t fall. There was too much confined strength in his body.

  “Could be that way.” Kale gestured behind me. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Or maybe it’s over there.” He pointed to the left. “Guess you’ll figure it out.” Turning away, he started off toward the outcrop once more. “Keep an eye open for the Jadukara though. If you run into one, use your knife to gut it in the belly. That’s their weak spot.”

  I blinked again and reached behind me to pat my deep pocket. The heavy knife was still safely tucked away inside, hidden beneath the buttoned flap. How the hell did he know I had a knife?

  Kale continued on ahead, his stride casual and easy.

  Well, fine then. I’d spent my entire life in this county. There were only so many roads that led to the outlying woods. If I found one, I could navigate my way home. I stalked off in the direction we’d come from. At least, I thought it was the direction we’d come from.

  Ten feet or so away, I could no longer see Kale’s outline when I looked over my shoulder. Figured. He’d screwed up my entire day; it shouldn’t surprise me that the jerk left me in the woods. Where was that creek? I pushed aside a sapling branch and continued forward, my gaze cast on the ground, searching for our earlier tracks. I wanted to avoid the crossing we’d made. Just in case those wolfish creatures were still hanging around.

  Rustling in the trees lifted the fine hairs on the back of my neck. I told myself not to listen, that it was probably a deer or some other woodland creature. Probably seeking the same creek I was lookin
g for.

  The sounds grew louder. My pulse jumped several beats. Now I could see branches moving with the lumbering footsteps. Footsteps that were too clunky to belong to a graceful deer. Too heavy to belong to a smaller animal like a squirrel.

  Please, please don’t let it be one of those things.

  Chills broke over my skin, and my heart felt like it might pound right through my ribs. Instinct demanded I run. And yet, I forced myself to move at an even pace, knowing that bolting ahead blindly would only accomplish getting me further lost.

  Damn that Kale. If he hadn’t shown up tonight, I wouldn’t be in this dark, creepy place, stumbling around like a drunk in a carnival house.

  Scanning the overhead trees again, I muttered beneath my breath. Where in the hell were the radio tower lights? I had to find them, before whatever was following found me.

  A brittle, high-pitched screech broke over the snap and crackle of twigs and dried leaves.

  Before my brain logically connected the chilling call with an owl, I was already running hell-bent for leather in the opposite direction, back to where I’d left Kale behind. “Kale! Wait!”

  He stepped out from behind a tree, right into my path. I dug my heels in to keep from jamming my nose into his chest. But momentum shoved me forward, denying me any small shred of dignity.

  Kale caught me by both elbows, bringing me to a stop even as he drew me closer into his body. Enticing spice, blended with something distinctly outdoorsy filled my nose. His body heat warmed my cheek.

  Oh wow. How had I failed to notice he smelled so good? I could fall into him…

  None of that, Halle. I jerked upright with a slight cough.

  But upright wasn’t far enough. The top of my head fell level with his chin, and as I lifted my eyes, his gaze connected with mine. For the span of one prolonged heartbeat, I looked up at a man who outclassed every male I had ever met. He was bigger than me. Stronger in physical strength, magical ability, and maybe even his will. Nothing I had done all night had intimidated him. Yet there was a softness in his expression, a tenderness I couldn’t quite define that seemed both out of place and wholly natural all at once.