Forsake

by Andrea Pearson

  The dog snarled, bounced to its feet, and charged the other dog.

  Nicole leaped over the chair and rushed to the desk, yanking the drawer open and reaching deep inside of it, pulling out the gun.

  She didn’t need to check to make sure it was loaded—her father always kept his guns ready for emergencies. She flipped off the safety and cocked the gun, then aimed at the roiling, tumbling dogs. Which one was which? She tried to follow their heads, tried to see a torn ear, but they were moving far too fast.

  Making a decision, Nicole fired. Then she fired again.

  Both dogs dropped. She stepped closer, gun ready, ears ringing. One dog had been shot in the shoulder—it was whimpering and not unconscious. The other had been shot in the chest and was definitely out for a while.

  Nicole was dismayed to see that the dog without the tattered ear was the one she’d shot in the shoulder. Stupid Conor.

  Without hesitation, Nicole raised the gun and emptied the magazine into Conor. Six more bullets pounded into the hound’s side. Hopefully, that would slow down his healing long enough for her to get to Lizzie and then to Germany with Alexander. Nicole looked at Alexander. Would he recover quickly enough? They didn’t have much time.

  Her parents rushed into the room, and her mom screamed, hands flying to her mouth. “What have you done, Nicole?” She stared at the dogs in horror, jaw gaping, eyes wide. “You shot dogs? Why on earth would you do that?”

  Nicole gave the Bersa to her dad, then, with shaking hands, tried to pick up Conor, ignoring the blood that seeped from the many wounds she and Alexander had given him. “He’s not a dog. Neither of them are. They’re dangerous men. One is my friend, though—the one you invited into the house earlier. The other is an enemy. I think he’s the guy who killed that woman at the ball.” She didn’t bother mentioning he had also been her boyfriend. She motioned at her parents. “Would you help me move him?”

  Neither of them did anything. They were frozen, their wide eyes roving between her and the dogs in horror.

  Conor was too large for Nicole to do anything with other than roll. That would take too long, though. She looked around the room, trying to figure out how to get him out of there. The moment he healed, if he didn’t kill her family, he would simply escape through one of the corners. She needed to find a way to delay him somewhat.

  Her eyes landed on the box of quilts in the corner. She ran and grabbed the top one, unfolding it quickly. Then she placed it on the floor next to Conor. While her parents still watched in mortification, Nicole rolled him over and over onto the blanket, grunting from the effort. She grabbed the end of the quilt farthest from him, hefted the edges over her shoulder, and started hauling him out of the room and down the hallway.

  It took some heaving, but Nicole was able to get Conor into the sunroom without any help. By the time she finished, though, her arms and legs were shaking from the exertion and the adrenaline from earlier.

  Once Conor was in the sunroom, Nicole glanced around, grabbing everything important—her music box, backpack with cash and her passport in it, and the box with the effigy. Then she stared at Conor, wondering if there was anything else she could do to keep him in place. She shook her head. She would just have to hope that the wounds healed slowly. She shut the door, locked it, and turned to face her parents, who were now standing in the kitchen, staring at her.

  “I need your help getting the other dog into my car. And please at least have the courtesy not to stare. I’ve had a really rough week.”

  “I’m not . . . we’re not . . .” Tiffany snapped her mouth shut. She was obviously out of words.

  “Look, if you don’t help, this dog will destroy all of us when he wakes up. At least, if I’m gone when that happens, we have some hope of drawing him away. But I can’t do it without some help from you guys.”

  Her parents looked at each other, then back at Nicole. “What should we do?” Dad asked.

  Nicole realized the other hounds were probably watching—if they weren’t already on their way. She and her parents had no time to lose. “Just help me drag him into my car. I can take care of things from there.”

  Both parents jumped to obey—totally surprising her—and in only a couple of minutes, they had Alexander in the backseat of her car. Nicole grabbed fingernail clippers, scissors, and a rubber band, putting them and the vial and music box in her backpack, then placed it, the effigy, and the containers on the front passenger seat. After saying good bye to her parents and telling them she would be back in a couple of days, Nicole turned the car on and pulled out of the garage.

  She thought over the tasks she’d need to perform. First—buy a couple chocolate-and-raspberry milkshakes. Next—go to Lizzie’s house.

  While waiting for the shakes, Nicole tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Every slight delay made her suspicious, and she couldn’t help but stare at the people inside the restaurant, trying to see if she recognized any of them as Conor or other potential hounds. As if she’d recognize them in human form.

  Nothing happened, though, and her smoothies were delivered without problem. She put them in the cup holders, then headed to Lizzie’s house. Once there, she put the package with the effigy in it on the floor, grabbed her backpack and shoved the smaller containers inside it, tucking the big one—the one Alexander had said to put the dirty clothes in—under her arm after flinging her backpack over her shoulders. She dumped the drug into Lizzie’s shake, picked up both cups, locked and shut the car, then knocked on Lizzie’s door.

  Lizzie herself opened, and Nicole set down the milkshakes before throwing her arms around her best friend. Oh, how she wished she could tell the girl what had been happening! She so desperately needed someone who loved her and could help her make things be okay.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lizzie stepped back, looking into Nicole’s eyes. “Everyone at school is saying you’re super sick and that your Restart totally screwed you over. I’ve tried to set them straight, but I don’t even know what’s going on. I’m totally expecting an explanation when everything is over ‘cause I know you would have given it to me already if you could.” Lizzie folded her arms, tapping her foot, and Nicole could hear the question in the girl’s voice.

  “Oh, Lizzie, you have no idea how badly I want to fill you in!” She grabbed the milkshakes, holding them up. “I figured we could have a girls’ night, if that’s okay with you.”

  Lizzie’s eyes strayed to the cups in Nicole’s hands. “Chocolate?”

  Nicole grinned. “Of course.”

  “Then come in, kind lady. Heaven knows I could do with some food of the gods right now.”

  The two headed up the stairs and into Lizzie’s room, where they settled on her bed.

  Nicole took a sip of her milkshake, motioning for Lizzie to do the same. “Drink up. I’ll tell you all about England.”

  Lizzie’s eyes widened. “Really? Oh, you have to know how badly I’ve been dying to hear what happened!”

  Nicole smiled. She hoped Alexander was right—that Lizzie wouldn’t remember any of this. Taking a deep breath, she started at the beginning—getting approached at the ball, the murdered woman, Alexander following her home, his body getting stolen, then heading to England with Conor. She told Lizzie everything that happened in England. Lizzie devoutly drank her shake, eyes wide as she listened.

  Nicole chuckled inwardly, her heart warming. Trust Lizzie not to let anything come between her and chocolate.

  The girl had only just finished the last drop of her milkshake when her eyes started drooping. Seconds later, she slumped over on her bed, eyes half open, her face completely slack.

  Nicole pulled the scissors, fingernail clippers, and rubber band from her backpack, setting all but the scissors down. She laid Lizzie on her back, arranging her arms and legs so she’d be more comfortable. Nicole’s eyes drifted to the corners of the room. Was she considered alone, now that Lizzie was unconscious? Hopefully not, but just in case, she’d go as quickly as
possible.

  She wrapped the elastic around a section of Lizzie’s hair after turning Lizzie’s head so she could reach the back where the hair loss wouldn’t be as noticeable. Then she grabbed the scissors and cut. She gently tucked the lock inside the proper container, then picked up the fingernail clippers, cringing as she did so. The thought of cutting someone else’s nails—especially toenails—frankly disgusted her. She would never make it as a beautician.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, Nicole steadied herself before taking off Lizzie’s shoes and socks. She hesitated, wondering whether to trim the toenails first or to start with the fingernails. She moved to Lizzie’s hands, deciding to leave the girl’s feet alone so they could have time to air out. Lizzie’s feet weren’t smelly, but just the idea of touching clammy feet made her stomach roil.

  Nicole first clipped the nails from Lizzie’s right hand, then the left, being sure not to injure her friend. Some of them were already very short, and she had to be extra careful not to cause any damage to the skin. She gathered the clippings and put them in their container.

  Next, Nicole approached Lizzie’s feet. She stared, admiring the bright pink nails with white daisies on them. Would the spell be ruined if the clippings had polish on them? Nicole bit her lip, wishing she could ask Alexander.

  Rather than taking chance, Nicole grabbed Lizzie’s polish remover, some cotton balls, and a wet rag before removing every trace of polish. Then, using the rag, she washed the residue from Lizzie’s toes. This had to be the weirdest thing she’d ever done.

  Nicole kept an eye on her best friend’s face, watching to see if the girl woke up or made any sound or indication that she was aware of what was going on. Lizzie’s eyes remained half closed, and she didn’t move the entire time Nicole was working on her.

  Once the nails were dry, Nicole quickly clipped them, realizing she’d been there too long. What if she was leading the hounds directly to her best friend? They wouldn’t be likely to forget the scent of Lizzie here—once they knew who she was and what her purpose was, they’d come here immediately. Were they on their way now?

  Nicole hurried to finish. Only the dead skin to go. She looked around the room, her heart frantically beating when she thought for a moment that Lizzie had already done her laundry that day. Usually, dirty clothes were draped across the furniture. The room was uncharacteristically pristine, though.

  Spotting Lizzie’s laundry basket in the closet, Nicole breathed a sigh of relief. A pair of pajamas were in the bottom. She sniffed the fabric—they’d been worn at least once—and folded them, placing them in their proper container. It was a tight fit. She would probably only need one piece, but she wanted to make sure that what she got was sufficient.

  When she had everything she needed, Nicole sent one last look to Lizzie, about to go, but hesitated. There was no way she could leave her best friend like this without an explanation of some sort.

  Nicole pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer in Lizzie’s desk, then wrote a note.

  I had a lot of fun last night! I’m so glad we were able to chat. Next time you want to cut your hair, though, you should probably pay someone to do it for you. And I’m sorry I didn’t get to finish your pedicure. I O U! I’ll call you when I get back from my trip.

  Nicole signed her name and left the note where Lizzie would find it. Then she covered Lizzie with a blanket, turned off the light, and left the room, shutting the door behind her. She tiptoed down the hall and stairs, slipping through the front door before anyone saw her.

  As she pulled away from Lizzie’s house, she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness all that was over. But now where? She kept glancing in the rearview mirror, hoping to see Alexander wake up, but he didn’t stir.

  Stomach growling, Nicole went through a drive-through and ordered food, then filled her tank with gas. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove the highways of Dallas, talking out loud to Alexander, trying to get him to wake up. A glance in the rearview mirror showed he was healing. How much longer could they wait, though?

  After an hour of driving around, and with only forty-five minutes to spare before the private plane took off, Alexander began stirring. Nicole breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Finally!” she said.

  Alexander barked quietly, then shook himself and sat up on the backseat.

  “Can you switch into a human yet?” Nicole asked.

  Alexander shook his head.

  “Great. Well, we have forty-four minutes until the flight takes off. Where am I going?” She glanced at Alexander in the rearview mirror, but the dog didn’t do anything. He looked pretty miserable. “You said you bought a private landing strip, right?”

  Alexander nodded.

  “Good. Is it in Dallas?”

  Alexander hesitated, then shook his head slowly.

  “Is it in one of the smaller surrounding towns?”

  Alexander nodded vigorously.

  “Okay, good. Now we’re making progress.” Nicole thought over the cities near Dallas, trying to decide which one was the most likely. She began naming them off, and after each one, Alexander shook his head. Finally, she mentioned Celina, and he nodded.

  “Well, that’s not terribly close, but I suppose it can still be considered a suburb.” She exited and got back on I-30 and headed toward I-635. “We have a forty-five minute drive. We might not make it on time.”

  Nicole stepped on the gas, going fifteen to twenty miles over the speed limit, keeping her eyes on the rearview mirror, watching for cops.

  She didn’t know what she would do if she came across any. Or if she could trust that they really were cops. At this point, though, she figured the hounds would probably just attack. She was aware of what they were, and they knew it.

  Forty minutes later, Nicole entered the Celina area.

  “Okay, Alexander, you’re going to have to shift into a human. There’s no way I’ll be able to guess exactly where to go from here.”

  Alexander barked, a low, gravelly sound that made it sound like he wasn’t very happy, but she watched as he started to shift anyway.

  Chapter Thirty

  The process looked painful and took several moments longer than usual as Nicole drove around Celina. Finally, Alexander was finished. His brow was covered in perspiration, though, and he was shaking and pale.

  “What happened to Conor?” he asked after giving her directions to the landing strip. “What happened to me?”

  “I shot you. And Conor, too.”

  Alexander’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “I had to—you were tearing each other apart, and I couldn’t risk him winning. You were far more injured than he was.” Nicole tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Not when I was done with him, though. I shot you once, and him seven times.”

  Alexander chuckled, leaning his head on the headrest in the backseat. “Serves him right.”

  “How long until he wakes?”

  “Seven bullets?”

  Nicole nodded.

  “Probably six or seven hours after me.” He looked out the window and continued, “The healing process is slow at first, but gradually speeds up.”

  “Good to know.” Nicole paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’m glad you told me only hounds can kill each other. I wouldn’t have dared to shoot you both if I hadn’t known.”

  Alexander didn’t respond for several moments. Then he said, “Try not to do it again, okay? Don’t get me wrong—I’m grateful you stopped him—but that hurt.”

  Nicole smiled. “Just be glad you were out immediately. Conor wasn’t so lucky—he was still conscious when I saw who was who. I think if he had been able, if I’d given him time, he would’ve attacked me.”

  “Of course he would have.” Alexander met eyes with her in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry about him. I didn’t realize he was your boyfriend—I learned about it right before leaving Mount Koven and came to your place immediately.”

  Nicole
didn’t respond at first—her heart still ached, thinking about the betrayal. She drove in silence, then said, “How is he an Arete and a hound?”

  “The very strongest hounds were also given an additional bribery—they could choose whether they would be an Arete. Whether the body they ended up in was the fourth-born child of its parents.”

  Nicole hesitated, not sure how to ask, but Alexander seemed to know what she was thinking.

  “I turned it down, in case you’re wondering. All of the hounds who chose to become magical have gone evil. I didn’t want to be tempted by the power.”

  “Why does he look so much younger than you?”

  “That’s another thing we chose—our physical age. I don’t know why Conor wanted to look like a teenager. It seemed pretty degrading to me. No offense meant, of course.”

  Nicole grinned. “None taken—I understand, anyway.”

  Alexander pointed at the landing strip when they got closer. “Park here. We’ll be flying to Frankfurt, then heading to the castle in Munzenburg.”

  The two of them got out of the car, Nicole carrying everything and Alexander draping an arm across her shoulder for support. A small plane waited, and they approached it slowly.

  The crew came out to greet them, including the pilot. If anybody noticed that Alexander looked weak and sick, no one said anything. Perhaps they were used to that sort of thing. Especially if Alexander used them frequently.

  Everyone boarded the plane. Nicole placed the containers and backpack by her feet, not wanting to lose sight of them.

  Once they were settled in, Alexander closed his eyes. His coloring was much better now—he wasn’t nearly as pale, and the sheen of sweat had left.

  “How are you feeling?” Nicole asked.

  He shrugged. “A little better, but still not fantastic.” He opened his eyes and stared at Nicole’s belongings. “Did you get everything?”