A PACK OF BLOOD AND LIES
Olivia Wildenstein
Contents
FRONT COVER
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
Afterword
Love Paranormal Romance?
Acknowledgments
Also by Olivia Wildenstein
About the Author
Prologue
The astringent tang of ammonia and glass cleaner stung my nose, but I powered through the smell, rubbing the glass table until it reflected the modern high-rise across the street. Six years ago, I could barely be in the same room as a spritz of Windex, but distance had dimmed my acute sense of smell.
Stretching my stiff neck from side to side, I moved away from the table to pack the cleaning supplies and roll them out of the conference room.
“Evelyn, I’m done!” When I spotted a dyed-black mane, I released my cart and draped my forearms over the top of the cubicle’s laminated wood siding. “Want help out here?”
“No. I’m done, too, querida.” The bright silk scarf knotted around Evelyn’s hair tonight made my throat constrict.
Mom had owned few things of value—her wedding band embedded with diamond chips that I wore on a leather cord around my neck, and the designer scarf Evelyn never parted with since Mom had gifted it to her. I was by no means jealous that Evelyn had gotten it. If anyone deserved such a beautiful present, it was the woman who’d taken care of us since our arrival in Los Angeles six years ago.
Our neighborhood was, to put it nicely, rough, which meant I was to open the door to no one. When Evelyn knocked two days after we had moved in, I stared at her through the peephole and told her to go away. She did, but then she returned.
The next time she came, she slipped me a folded piece of stationery on which she’d scribbled her name and unit number. When Mom got home from a job interview and saw the paper I’d left out on our dining table, she shot up the stairs like a bullet, racing past the poorly rendered violet boob graffiti that graced the concrete stairwell, and then pounded on Evelyn’s door to demand what interest she had in an eleven-year-old girl.
Turned out, Evelyn just wanted to help. Mom had flown back down, a blur of red cheeks and crazed eyes, yelling that we didn’t need anyone’s charity…that we were fine!
We weren’t fine.
Thankfully, Evelyn remained persistent and returned again, placating my mother with dishes suited for a crowd and clothing that had been gathering dust in the back of her closet. Naïvely, I’d determined Evelyn was a hoarder with terrible math skills.
Evelyn unplugged the vacuum, then limped back to it and toed the knob that wound up the cord. It coiled into the belly of the apparatus as quick as a prairie rattlesnake. Before she could bend over, I grabbed the handle and heaved it onto her cart. Together, we walked our carts back to the janitorial closet, Evelyn gritting her teeth the entire way. Although she never complained, her right shoulder had been bothering her for some time now. Coupled with her constant limp caused by the stray bullet that had hit her calf two decades ago, Evelyn had slowed down considerably.
“I made your favorite tacos, but do not feel obliged to eat with me, querida. If you have a date—”
“Nope. No date.” I hadn’t gone on one since Mom passed away.
At first, I stayed away from boys because depression was eating me whole, but then paying rent and bills overtook my life, and I picked up as many hours of cleaning jobs as I could find. Some days, the commuting wore me down more than the actual workload and chemical odors. I found no solace in rolling on buses through gray city blocks, leaning away from passengers who smelled like the lunch they’d put away hours before or the perspiration they’d accrued during the day.
Tonight, at least, Evelyn sat next to me, large-knuckled fingers clasped in her lap, chin dipped into her neck, lids closed in rest. A couple seconds before we reached our bus stop, I gently rubbed her forearm and murmured, “We’re home.”
She startled awake. Hooking her arm through mine for support, we got off the bus. The deep-blue streets were not especially busy at this hour. The regulars were out, though—the army vet with the thick aura of liquor fumes, talking to his runt of a dog that perpetually bared his fangs at me; the two sex workers sporting torn fishnets and caked-on drugstore makeup, who reeked of sweaty vinyl; and the hooded men sought out in equal measure by the police and their twitchy customers.
Except for the dog, they were all pleasant enough.
One of the hooded dealers whistled at me. “When you gonna give me some sugar, Ness?”
Months ago, I’d stupidly worn my name pinned to my chick-yellow cleaning uniform.
Smile tugging at the corner of my lips, I flipped him off, which had his two associates snickering. Every night I passed by them, they’d either whistle or make kissy noises, and every night I’d show them what I thought of their subtle advances.
One night, one of them hadn’t been on the corner, and I worried the cops had nailed him, but Suzie the prostitute assured me the boy’s pops had gotten out of jail and come to collect his son to start a new life.
Sometimes I wished someone would whisk me away to start a new life, too.
As we stepped into the dirty cement cube we called home, I pushed away thoughts of desertion and told Evelyn, “I’ll be up in a minute.”
The elevator was out of order…again, so she started her slow ascent to her second-floor unit, the menthol salve she rubbed into her sore joints wafting over the tang of fresh urine. Her shoulder wasn’t the only thing that worried me. Her bad leg, too, seemed to be causing her pain.
Once I heard her keys jangle over the shouting match of my next-door neighbors and the cartoons blaring from Mrs. Fletcher’s place, I walked toward my apartment and pulled out my keys, but then I froze in the middle of the hallway.
I sniffed the air—cigarette smoke, potpourri, and evergreen. The tangled scents jolted my pulse.
My front door was closed, but yellow light slanted onto the steel-gray floor. I turned the knob, then gave a hard shove.
Two people were crowded around my flea-market dining table.
The man jumped to his feet so fast his chair skidded backward on the linoleum. He caught the wooden top rail before it hit the ground. “Ness.”
“How did you get in?” I sounded calm, which was surprising, because I was not calm. Every nerve in
my body twitched.
My uncle tipped his head toward the window over the denim couch. Shards of glass glittered on the threadbare seat cushions.
I backed up. Smacked into a wall.
Not a wall.
Hands came around my biceps and pinned me in place. “Hi, Cuz.”
I twisted my neck and gaped up into a familiar set of hazel eyes, then stared back at Uncle Jeb and Aunt Lucy.
“We’ve come to take you home,” Lucy said, finally heaving herself out of the chair.
When I’d hoped for a new life, this wasn’t what I’d had in mind.
I shrugged my cousin Everest’s hands off and tried to lope around him, but his body filled the exit path. “Like hell I’m going back there!”
“Why didn’t you call us when Maggie died?” My aunt wiped the corners of her eyes with a tissue. She hadn’t cared about Mom when she’d been alive, but now Lucy was suddenly heartbroken? The nerve of her.
“Why would I tell you?”
“Because we’re your family,” Jeb said.
“You lost that title the day you forced us out of Boulder.”
My uncle scratched a spot behind his ear. “Ness, there were reasons we urged your mother to leave.”
“Oh, I remember them: Ness is fragile. She shouldn’t run with boys. It’s dangerous. Am I misquoting you, Uncle?”
Jeb flushed.
“But now you suddenly want me to come back? Why would I go with you?” My voice rang so loudly in the corridor that my neighbor stopped beating up his wife long enough to stick his head through the door. Probably to check for cops. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He wasn’t concerned with my well-being; he was scum.
Just like my uncle and aunt.
“You have to come with us. You’re a minor,” Lucy said.
“I’ll be eighteen in September.”
Lucy balled the tissue in her dimpled hand. “Until then, we’re your legal guardians, so we call the shots.”
Disbelief raked over me. “How did you even find out about Mom?”
“News travels,” Everest said.
I had no more ties in Boulder, which had me wondering if Mom’s death certificate was on the internet for all to see.
“Your school principal called,” Jeb said. “You neither attended your graduation, nor picked up your diploma. He was trying to reach your mom, but her phone was disconnected. Since I was listed as next of kin, he phoned me.”
Anger and shock warped my sight. Anger that Mom had listed my uncle on my school file, and shock that it was my own error that had led these people to me.
“How long have you been living like”—Lucy wrinkled her nose—“this?”
Where I lived wasn’t a palace. I was aware of that, but having her state it with such distaste raised my hackles. Her gaze roved over our faded couch, over the chipped white veneer of the countertop, over the yellow water stain that had bloated and cracked a piece of the ceiling.
“Move your arm, young man.” The familiar voice had me wheeling around. Evelyn held out a can of pepper spray to Everest’s face.
“Whoa, chill out, lady.” My cousin lowered the palm he’d planted on the wall to corral me.
Keeping the can directed on Everest, she said, “Get behind me, Ness.”
When I didn’t, she stretched out her arm and tried to force me back. Worried about my uncle’s reaction, I pressed her arm down and whispered, “It’s okay,” even though it wasn’t.
A frown worked itself onto my aunt’s smooth, milky skin. “Who’s she?”
Evelyn glared at her. “Who are you?”
“People I used to know,” I muttered.
“We’re her family,” Jeb said.
Evelyn cocked a penciled eyebrow up.
“They’re the reason Mom and I had to leave Boulder.”
“And you are, Ma’am?” my uncle asked.
“Evelyn.”
Lucy crossed her thick freckled arms, and a column of metal bangles clinked against each another. “And you know Ness how?”
“She’s been playing the role you guys failed so miserably at,” I said through gritted teeth. “If anyone should be my legal guardian, it should be her, not you.”
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder at me, then back at my uncle. “I will gladly be her legal guardian. Entrust her to me.”
My heart bounded at the possibility.
“I’m not entrusting Ness to a person I don’t know from Eve or Adam.” Jeb shook his head.
“Why not?” I asked. “I know her.”
Jeb slapped the kitchen countertop. “That’s not how it works. Now you start packing right away, young lady, or—or—”
I could tell from the strain around my uncle’s eyes that I was chipping away at his patience, but he had to understand I wasn’t the submissive pup he could kick around anymore.
I raised my chin. “Or what?”
“Or Everest will carry you out to the car,” Jeb said in a quiet roar.
“He wouldn’t dare.”
Everest shot me a brazen smile.
Crap. He would dare.
“Evelyn’s been here for me when you guys haven’t! I am not leaving her.”
She wrapped her calloused fingers around my wrist. “Shh, querida.”
“Then I guess we’ll be taking her along,” Everest said.
I blinked at my cousin. “No one’s taking anyone—”
Jeb tipped his head toward Everest. My cousin slapped the can of pepper spray out of Evelyn’s fingers, then shackled the fists I swung at him, pinning them against my back.
“Take your hands off me!” I tried to tear my wrists out of his grasp, but the action was as futile as a hanging man trying to loosen a noose.
“Sorry, Cuz. No can do.”
“We are not the enemy, Ness,” my uncle said, stepping on the can of pepper spray Evelyn was reaching for.
“Well, you’re sure acting like it!” I bit out.
I tried to headbutt my cousin, but he must’ve predicted my move because he added space between our bodies, all the while keeping my wrists in a vice. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ness.”
“I will go with her.” Evelyn’s declaration made everyone freeze.
“What? No.” Lucy’s head jerked back, and it made her double chin wobble. She’d gained weight since I’d last seen her; not that she was ever a size eight, but she used to be firmer.
“You surely can’t just up and leave, Ma’am,” Jeb said.
“I surely can and surely will. Now release her before I call the police and have them observe how unfit you are to be her guardians.”
“We’re not afraid of cops,” Everest said, a lilt to his voice.
I was so furious I wanted to spit on him. On him and on his pride.
My uncle raised an open palm. “Release her, Everest.”
Everest let me go. I rubbed my wrists and glared at him, funneling everything I thought about him and his little stunt into that one look. I didn’t spit though.
“Can you cook, Ma’am?” Jeb asked. At first, I assumed the drive had made him hungry—my uncle and cousin were always hungry—but then Jeb added, “We need a new cook at the inn.”
Lucy startled. “Jeb, we can’t just—”
“She’s an incredible cook,” I said.
“But—” Lucy started again.
“Dad’s right. We need a new cook, and Ness won’t come without Evelyn. It’s a win-win.”
Lucy gasped. “We can’t just pick someone off the street.”
“We’re not on the street, Mom,” Everest said.
My cousin’s support was startling and reminded me of another time when he’d stood up for me, but my gratitude whizzed out like air from a popped balloon when I recalled how he’d just manhandled me.
“We can’t promise it will work out,” Jeb said.
“But she’ll stay with me until I’m eighteen even if it doesn’t.” Evelyn was my life. At fifty-eight, living alone with decreasing mobility, there was no way i
n hell I’d let Jeb kick her to the curb. “You’ll give her a room in the inn.”
“You’re a very demanding girl,” my uncle said.
“You’re uprooting me from my life.” Again. “I have a right to be demanding.”
Jeb glanced at his wife, but Lucy was too busy scowling to meet his gaze. “We’ll supply her with a room, but it’ll impact her salary. If it works out.”
Lucy finally flicked a creamy hand, contaminating the air with the essence of nicotine that had yellowed the white crescents of her nails. “All this is well and good, but shouldn’t we sample the woman’s cooking first?”
“The woman has a name. Evelyn. And she made fish tacos,” I said.
“I could eat,” Everest chirped.
Of course he could. My cousin’s appetite was a monstrous thing when we were growing up.
“I’ll go fetch the tacos with her,” I offered.
“No. I’ll go,” Everest said.
“Like I’d trust you to do that,” I said.
“Everest goes with you.” Was Jeb afraid I’d make a run for it?
The thought had crossed my mind, but another one had quickly taken its place: Evelyn wouldn’t be able to run. Besides, where would we go? I had never made good enough friends I could phone for help. I’d tried back in middle school, but kids found me odd and kept away. I remembered wondering if they could somehow sense what I was, smell what I was the same way I could smell their acne serums and tinted lip balms. I’d never dared ask Mom. I was afraid she’d burst into my school and punch the kids for shunning me, which wouldn’t have improved my social status.
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