Awakening (Covenant College #1)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Maybe they’re waiting to see what you do.”

  “I’m not planning to do anything.”

  “What do you think Professor Blake would do?”

  “I’m not planning on telling him, so I’ll never know.”

  “Do Aric and Rafael know about each other?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Paris must have read the confusion washing over my face because she stifled a smirk. “Not that they’re both fighting for your affections. I’m talking about the fact that they both exist as, you know, supernaturals.”

  “You mean he’s a werewolf and he’s a vampire?”

  “Yes.”

  I hadn’t really thought about it. “I don’t know. Do you think I should tell them?”

  Paris seriously considered the question. “I don’t know. If history is any indication, I would say no.”

  “History?”

  “Traditionally, werewolves and vampires don’t get along?”

  “Like ‘Twilight,’ you know, fighting to the death?”

  “I don’t think ‘Twilight’ should be used as the basis for anything – especially good storytelling – but I do think there is something to vampires and wolves fighting. My mom told me stories when I was a kid.”

  “There must be a reason?”

  “Testosterone?”

  “Are all vampires and wolves men?”

  “No.”

  “Then it can’t be testosterone.”

  “I guess not.”

  “It’s probably just clan bullshit.”

  “Clan bullshit?”

  “You know, both clans thinking they’re superior.”

  “Probably.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” I was getting sick of admitting that to myself.

  “Well, you probably don’t want to hear this, but until you decide you should probably try to stay away from all three of them,” Paris suggested.

  “All three of them?”

  “Aric, Rafael and Professor Blake.”

  “I have class with Blake.”

  “Well, then don’t talk to him after class.”

  It sounded like a good idea on paper. The problem was, I didn’t know how practical a solution it would actually turn out to be in real life.

  Twenty-Nine

  After telling Paris all my secrets, I felt relieved. The rest of the day flew by. At dinner that night, Brittany asked the inevitable question – well, inevitable for Brittany.

  “So, what are we doing tonight?”

  If Brittany was a “we” person with her roommates, I would hate to see her when she finally got into a relationship.

  “I want to dance,” Paris finally said.

  “We’ll have to go to a bar for that,” the idea wasn’t thrilling to me.

  “Better than a lame party with flat beer in red plastic cups,” Paris replied.

  She had a point.

  “I don’t want to go to some meat market,” I countered.

  “No, we’ll go some place small,” Paris agreed.

  “What’s a meat market?” Brittany’s innocent question made Paris snicker and me roll my eyes.

  “You explain it to her,” I told Tara as I walked into the bedroom.

  Later that night we had all agreed to go to a local bar that was full of more townies than co-eds, ironically called The Haunt.

  “I hope they’re talking about middle-aged drunks and not ghosts,” I whispered to Paris during the walk to the dive.

  Once we got there, I changed my opinion. “I hope it’s middle-aged losers with beer guts instead of roaches.”

  Paris forced me in. Since we were under 21, we had to deal with large black X’s on our hands instead of the customary bar stamp. I wasn’t in the mood to drink anyway. I wasn’t actually in the mood to dance, either. Instead, I decided to play some pool.

  I was a pretty good pool player – and I’m not just saying I was a pretty good pool player for a teenage girl. I had grown up with a pool table in my grandparents’ basement. All of my cousins and I were pretty good.

  After a friendly game with a couple of students, I noticed a guy watching me from the corner of the bar. He looked to be about 30. I figured he had to be a loser to be hanging out at a bar on a college campus – but that wasn’t going to stop me from taking his money in a friendly pool game.

  We agreed to put $10 on it. I won – but I downplayed my ability. Of course, he asked for a rematch, upping the ante to $20. I won again. By the third game, we were starting to draw a crowd. That was fine with me. All men think that women can’t play pool. All men are willing to empty their wallets to prove that fact – even when it’s not even remotely true. I figured a shopping spree was just what I needed.

  After about two hours, I was up $300 and I had no shortage of people willing to play. Everyone wanted to be the individual to take the snarky blonde down. This was mid-Michigan, though, none of them were exactly pool sharks.

  Paris found me in the middle of one game – and watched until I finished. “I didn’t know you could play pool.”

  “I’m multi-talented.”

  “So I see. How much are you up?”

  “I don’t know.” That wasn’t true. I just didn’t want to rub it in. Plus, I wasn’t done fleecing the natives.

  After another hour, and another couple hundred bucks, the stakes were getting high. I’d upped it to $50 a game and I was on quite a roll. That’s why I didn’t notice when a familiar face had joined the crowd.

  “You guys are never going to beat her.”

  I froze when I heard the voice. I swung around to find Will watching – a nervous grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

  “How would you know?” The local I was playing wasn’t happy. I only had two balls left to his six. It wasn’t looking good for him.

  “She’s the best pool player I’ve ever met,” Will said. “I stopped playing her when I was 16. My ego couldn’t handle it.”

  As if on cue, I sank my final two balls with one split shot. Thanks to Will’s conversation starter, no one else wanted to play me. The crowd that had gathered dispersed and it was only Will and me left.

  “Thanks for ruining my chances to make some more money,” I admonished him, pushing the last $50 into my pocket.

  He regarded the hefty bulge in my pants and laughed. “I think you already cleaned up for the night.”

  We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Will sipped from his drink and then offered it to me.

  “No one is looking,” he offered.

  Like I was going to take a drink from anyone in his fraternity. I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

  Will was nervous, I could tell. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, pushing his hair from his eyes. “About the other night . . .”

  I didn’t think a bar was a good place to talk, but I had no intention of going outside with him alone either.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “No, I feel I need to explain.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I responded quickly. “I already know everything.”

  Will’s brown eyes narrowed. For a second, he looked dangerous. His gaze softened slightly after that, but he was still clearly on edge. “What did Aric tell you?”

  “Aric didn’t tell me anything,” I lied. “I have another source of information.”

  “Who?” Will’s breathing pattern had picked up.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Will relaxed all of a sudden. “You don’t know anything. You’re just pretending you do.”

  Well, fuck him. “I know you’re a werewolf,” I seethed.

  Will was on edge again. He looked around nervously and stepped closer to me. “That’s ridiculous.” Will licked his lips. That was always his tell in poker.

  “Really? It’s ridiculous?”

  “Yes,” Will averted his eyes from mine.

  “You’re the worst liar ever.”

&n
bsp; Will didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he raised his eyes to mine. There was no malice there, only sadness.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not going to do anything,” I answered simply.

  “You’re not?” Will seemed surprised.

  “Why would I?”

  “I don’t know, I just thought . . . “

  “You thought what? I would run around campus and tell everyone that you’re a werewolf? That wouldn’t hurt you. It would hurt me.”

  Will still seemed uncomfortable. I knew why.

  “You can tell your fraternity brothers that their secret is safe,” I said pointedly. “As long as they stop drugging women. . . “ Will started to interrupt and I put my hand up to stop him. “There’s no use denying it. I know it’s the truth. If you stop drugging women and you don’t go around using co-eds as chew toys, I’ll forget what I know.”

  “I don’t think Brett will go along with that,” Will said truthfully.

  “Then we’re going to have a problem.” There was no point in lying, Will knew me too well.

  “What do you want me to do?” Will was practically pleading now. “I can’t protect you from all of them.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” I was getting angry now. “I never needed you to protect me. Just . . . my God, Will, what happened to you?”

  Will shot me a glare. “Nothing happened to me. I’m still Will. I’m just stronger. I’m faster.”

  “You’re clearly not any smarter.” The remark came out a lot more bitter than I meant it to.

  “You don’t understand,” Will said. “I was always popular. Everyone thought I was cool up there. Up at home. “

  “I remember. I was there.”

  “When I came here, it was different,” Will looked suddenly broken to me. I wondered when that had happened – and how I hadn’t noticed. “I was just another student here. Nobody noticed me. Nobody cared.”

  “So you thought becoming a monster would help?”

  “I’m not a monster!”

  “What do you call a guy that sits around and watches as his frat brothers drug women? What do you call a guy that doesn’t stand up for himself – or his girlfriend?”

  Will looked embarrassed momentarily, but then he seemed to regain himself. “There’s a hierarchy that has to be followed.”

  “There’s always going to be a hierarchy in a pack, Will,” I said. “You’re never going to get to the top because there’s always going to be someone ahead of you. You’re just one of the sheep for them to control.”

  If I had been getting through to him, I wasn’t anymore. Will pulled away when I reached out to touch his arm. “You don’t understand any of this. I knew you wouldn’t. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “You’re right,” I said, swallowing hard and stepping back. “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand how the sweet boy I knew let this happen.”

  “Maybe you will some day . . . “ Will’s voice was slightly wistful.

  ‘I’ll never understand this,” I said forcefully. “I’ll never understand you doing this. You being so weak. You being . . . .someone I don’t even recognize.”

  Will must have heard the finality in my voice. “I guess this is goodbye then.”

  “It is goodbye.”

  Will started to turn and walk away. He swung back. “I’ll make sure they know you’re not a threat.”

  With those words, Will was gone in the crowd. “Goodbye Will.”

  Paris was at my side quickly. “What happened?”

  “What?”

  “I saw you talking to Will. What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I waved my hand. “We just came to an understanding. I told him as long as his fraternity stops drugging girls that I would keep his secret.”

  “Do you think he believed you?”

  “I don’t know.” It was hard to admit, but it was the truth.

  We found Brittany hanging all over some guy on the dance floor. It took awhile, but we managed to disengage her. “I wasn’t going to do anything,” she said sheepishly.

  After a full 45 minutes of searching, we still couldn’t find Tara, though. Finally, we all decided to go back to the dorms without her.

  “Maybe she went back without us?” Brittany asked hopefully.

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe she met someone,” Paris offered.

  “Maybe”

  “She would have told us, though,” Brittany said quietly.

  The thing is, of all of my new roommates, Tara was the one that was still an enigma. Part of me agreed with Brittany that she wouldn’t have left without telling us. There was a niggling doubt in the back of my brain, though.

  Paris must have read my mind.

  “Maybe she is back at the room?”

  I could tell she didn’t believe it either, though.

  Thirty

  When we got back to the dorms, Tara wasn’t there. After a quick inspection, I came to the realization that she hadn’t returned to the room. Absolutely nothing had changed. All her stuff was still in the closet. Her books were still on her desk. The ratty old stuffed rabbit she slept with was placed gently on her pillow.

  Tara was not here, nor had she been here.

  Brittany was starting to panic. “Should we call the police?”

  “And tell them what? We misplaced our roommate at the bar?”

  “What if she was kidnapped?”

  “From a bar full of people? We would have seen that happen.”

  Even as I said the words I wasn’t sure I was right. Paris made the final decision.

  “If we still haven’t heard from her in the morning, we’ll call the police.”

  Brittany reluctantly agreed.

  My dreams that night were not merely active, but tortured. I dreamt that Tara was taken from The Haunt forcibly – by a fraternity full of hairy beasts. Her scream as they dragged her out the door was enough to chill me to the bone.

  I woke up to loud knocking on the dorm door. “What the hell?”

  Brittany was up like a shot, racing to the door. I sat up and looked down to where Tara’s bed was. It obviously hadn’t been slept in. I noticed Paris looking, too. This wasn’t good.

  We both climbed out of bed and made it into the next room as Brittany threw the door open. We were all surprised to see two police officers standing on the other side.

  “Is this the room for Tara Thompson?”

  “Yes, did you find her?” Brittany looked relieved. I had a bad feeling, though.

  “May we come in?”

  Brittany let the two officers in. I noticed they were city police and not campus police. That made things all the more ominous.

  The officers came into the room. When they saw a few curious faces peering in from the hallway, they closed the door behind them. Well, that couldn’t be good.

  Brittany, Paris and I stood in a semi-circle waiting for the officers to continue.

  “When was the last time you saw your roommate?”

  “Last night,” I answered. “We all went to The Haunt together. When it was time to leave we couldn’t find her, though. We figured she came back here.”

  “She wasn’t here, though?”

  “No, she wasn’t here.”

  “You didn’t think to call us when you couldn’t find her?”

  “I wanted to,” Brittany said accusingly. “They wouldn’t let me though. They said I was overreacting.”

  It was good to know she was good in a crisis.

  The older officer – he looked to be in his mid-40s – turned to me. “You didn’t think it was strange that she just disappeared?”

  “I’ve only known her for two weeks. I don’t know her bar habits.” I didn’t like his accusatory tone.

  “Well, maybe you should have erred on the side of caution.” I definitely didn’t like his tone now.

  “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

  Paris stepped in sm
oothly. “Maybe you should just tell us what is going on.”

  The younger officer seemed to sense Paris’ concern about the situation. “Your roommate was attacked last night.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly. Like he was telling us our class schedule had suddenly changed.

  “Was she raped? Was she drugged?”

  Will had been at the bar the night before. Maybe some of his frat brothers had been there, too. Just because I hadn’t seen them, that didn’t mean that they weren’t there – hiding in the shadows.

  “Why would you think she was drugged and raped?” It was Officer Obnoxious again.

  Here was a sticky situation. I had just promised Will the night before that I would keep his secret. Still, something had obviously happened to Tara the night before. I decided to take things slowly. “I watch a lot of television.”

  Neither officer looked like they believed me. I didn’t blame them.

  “We’re still waiting for toxicology results,” the younger officer said.

  “Is she in the hospital? Is she okay?” Brittany looked like she was ready to spring into action.

  The officers looked at each other uncomfortably. I didn’t like their unease. I had an awful feeling what they were about to tell us.

  “She’s not in the hospital.”

  Paris and I exchanged dark looks.

  “Is she at the station?” Brittany either didn’t grasp the situation – or she just didn’t want to. Denial is a powerful thing.

  The younger officer seemed to realize that Paris and I already knew what they were going to say. He also knew Brittany did not. “Why don’t you sit down,” he prodded her gently.

  “Why would I need to sit down?” Her voice was shrill now. “Why don’t they have to sit down?”

  Paris turned to Brittany and put her hand on her shoulder. “Brittany. . . I don’t think they’re here to tell us Tara is at the station.”

  “What do you mean?” Brittany’s lower lip was quivering.

  “She means that Tara is dead,” I snapped.

  That was it. Brittany started wailing and threw herself into the younger officer’s arms. He looked uncomfortable as he tried to comfort her. He turned his pleading dark eyes to Paris and then me. When he saw the resolute look on my face, though, he must have realized he was on his own when it came to comforting her.