Ungifted

by Kelly Oram

  I was about to tell her I wasn’t planning on it when I suddenly realized where we were. “Mount Vernon?” I asked. “I can’t be here! Cyn, this is trespassing. If the police have to break up this party—”

  “Would I let you get into that kind of trouble, Grace?” Cynthia asked, cutting me off with a laugh. “It’s not trespassing. I promise. This is a private party. A legal party.”

  “How can it be legal? This is George Washington’s home! It’s a museum!”

  “It’s also owned by the Mount Vernon Ladies Association, a.k.a. a group of highly influential witches.”

  My mouth snapped shut. I looked up at the grand estate and somehow this new knowledge made it look different. The once-boring museum that I’d been to so many times throughout my life was suddenly fascinating. “George Washington wasn’t supernatural or something, was he?”

  “You’d think, because the guy was super cool and all,” Cynthia teased. “But actually he was human.”

  “Huh,” I said. “Plain old human, just like me.”

  “There are a few gems in your lot,” Cynthia said, nudging me with her elbow.

  I stared up at the mansion again. “But if I remember correctly, the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association went through a lot of trouble to save this place and restore it. If Washington was only human, I wonder why a bunch of witches wanted it.”

  “They were sentimental,” a voice offered from behind us. “George Washington was human, but his wife was a witch. He was one of the few humans that have ever accepted the supernatural, and he did it because he loved her so much.”

  I spun around to find one of the girls we’d seen earlier at the Chinese restaurant holding her hand out to me with a wide smile. “Hi! I’m Aimee.”

  She wasn’t as cute as the strawberry blonde, but she was still very pretty. Pale skin, rosy cheeks, long shiny black hair, and eyes so pale blue they almost looked clear. I wondered how Ethan knew her.

  I pulled myself from my rude staring and shook her hand. “Grace.”

  “Oh, I know,” Aimee said laughing. “I’ve heard all about you—the human who didn’t turn and accepted the truth. You’re quite the supernatural celebrity already. I’m glad you could make it to my party.”

  “Your party?” I wanted to kick myself for sounding so awestruck.

  Aimee laughed again but rolled her eyes. “My mom’s the current Regent of the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association. She lets me throw this party here every year if I manage straight A’s.”

  “She must be pretty cool.” I tried not to sound too jealous.

  “Well, she’s not the President of the United States.”

  “Neither is my dad.”

  “Not yet,” Aimee said. “But still, he must be a cool guy to live with.”

  I forced a smile. “Yeah.”

  Thankfully Aimee’s friend, the gorgeous strawberry, popped up beside her and managed to change the topic of conversation. “Ethan!” she said animatedly. “I thought you told us you weren’t going to make it tonight.”

  Ethan seemed indifferent to her obvious flirting. “Grace wanted to come.”

  The girl finally looked at me, but the way her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit was all too familiar. It was the same way every other member of the Ethan Dunn Fan Club appraised me—with disdain and jealousy.

  She noticed the way I clung to Cynthia and plastered a smile on her face. “Hey, Cynthia! You brought a human to sacrifice this year, huh? Awesome.”

  I resisted the trademark St. Claire eye roll and smirked at Cynthia. “You needed a human sacrifice?” I teased. “No wonder your brothers were being so nice to me.”

  Ethan’s stupid girlfriend laughed long and hard. The sound sort of resembled a hyena. “Preston and Caleb Layton?” she squealed. “I’m so sure! You are too funny, new girl.”

  Preston heard his name and joined us with a bright smile. “Ask for the devil and he shall appear,” he teased. “Hell of a party, Aimee, as always.”

  Aimee blushed. “Thanks, Preston.”

  It was strange to watch these two girls fawn over Preston the way no one did at school. I guess he was too scary for us humans, but he was the pick of the litter—hehe—in the supernatural world.

  “What can I do for you this evening, Clara?”

  “Oh we didn’t mean to bother you, Preston,” Strawberry—or Clara, as Preston had called her—said while obnoxiously batting her eyelashes. “Grace was just saying how very nice you’ve been to her.”

  She was trying to embarrass me in front of him, but it didn’t work. “Was she?” he asked, raising one eyebrow into a perfect arch at me. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind about being my date this evening?” He held his arm out. “The offer still stands, you know.”

  Huh?

  His comment left both Aimee and Clara as wide-eyed and speechless as me. I looked at their stunned faces, and when I turned back to Preston to ask what he meant he winked so subtly I almost missed it. I managed to catch on to what he was doing just in time and nodded enthusiastically.

  “Great!” He stepped in close to me and smiled his terrifyingly beautiful smile directly at Clara. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies.”

  Clara was still bug-eyed, but Aimee managed a startled smile. “Have fun, you guys. It was nice to meet you, Grace.”

  “You, too.” I had to call it over my shoulder because Preston was already dragging me off toward a huge bonfire.

  Since Preston couldn’t exactly offer me his arm or hold my hand while I hobbled away on crutches, he’d settled for placing his hand on the small of my back. As soon as he did, I finally realized that I’d just handed myself over to Preston Layton. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

  I was the first to break the silence. “Thanks for the rescue. Clara seems…” I couldn’t think of a polite word.

  “Vile?” Preston suggested, finally forcing me to laugh.

  “Basically. How did you hear our conversation?”

  “Canine senses.” Preston tapped his ear and grinned. “One of the perks of being a wolf.”

  “Is the superhearing an angel thing, too?”

  Preston studied me for a minute and instead of answering me said, “Dunn keeps pretty close tabs on you.”

  It wasn’t a question and I didn’t know what to say. The subject of Ethan made me remember the other people I came with. I looked over my shoulder and, sure enough, he and Cynthia were only a few short steps behind us. Cynthia was shooting imaginary lasers at the back of Preston’s head.

  “Relax, Grace. It was only a rescue. I’m not trying to encroach on his territory.”

  When I caught Preston’s meaning, I gasped. “What? Oh no! I wasn’t worried about—I’m just not supposed to leave his sight. He’s afraid whoever tried to drop stage equipment on me might be here tonight.”

  “I have to admit I’ve had similar thoughts.”

  I tried not to think about that too much. “Ethan’s just really protective. I guess that’s sort of an angel thing, right? But…” My face turned fiercely red. “He and I aren’t…like that…at all.”

  Preston raised a curious brow, but I shrugged. What was I supposed to say? I did not want to tell Preston that Ethan was my personal guardian angel. Thankfully, he sensed my discomfort and didn’t push the topic.

  Preston found a log near the bonfire and when he looked at the people sitting on it, they immediately scrambled to their feet. I was shocked, but he just sat down as if he hadn’t expected anything else.

  He pulled me down next to him, took my hand in his, and seemed to get lost in my touch for a moment. “Whoa. Caleb wasn’t kidding,” he said. A shiver rocked his body, and without explanation he brought my hand up to his face and held it against his cheek. His eyes drifted shut and he took a deep breath.

  I’m not sure if I freaked because I was scared, embarrassed, or if I just liked the intimacy of the moment a little too much, but I tried to pull my hand away.

  Preston sighed at my panick
ing, but he refused to break our connection. He dropped my hand from his face but laced our fingers together. “Just sit here with me long enough for everyone to get the message. I promise you not even the faeries at this party will mess with the date of the future alpha of the D.C. pack.”

  There was just a hint of malice in Preston’s tone, as if he were actually daring someone to try it, even though no one was standing there to hear him.

  “Future alpha?” I was startled.

  Preston chuckled at my surprise, but then sighed. “Alas, I am destined to lead my people one day.”

  “Don’t sound so forlorn,” I said, surprised I was able to tease him.

  For some reason, I think our touch was calming both of us. As we sat there hand in hand, Preston slowly became less intimidating. In fact, he seemed almost human at the moment—just a boy trying to escape the pressures of life for a few minutes while enjoying the company of a girl. And for once, I wasn’t spazzing or turning red from all of the attention. It was really nice, actually.

  Preston’s lips curved up a little and he shook himself from his thoughts. “You’re right,” he said. “The title does have its perks.” He gave my hand a squeeze and grinned. “For instance, getting to sit with you long enough to make me the envy of every guy here, even if it is just a rouse to annoy the vile Clara.”

  I giggled and tried to accept his compliment, but this moment was too surreal. “You don’t have to coddle me, Preston. I promise I’m not going to have a meltdown and end up in a psych ward somewhere.”

  Preston squeezed my hand tighter and looked at me, his intense eyes more serious than I’d ever seen them. “I know what happened to you at that party two years ago, Grace. It wasn’t your fault. You don’t deserve the reputation you have, and you shouldn’t believe it. You are anything but a disgrace. The fact that you’re here right now, that you can even still think straight after what happened to you last night, proves that you’re extraordinary. Everyone at this party knows it but you.”

  “He’s right, Grace,” Cynthia said squeezing herself, not subtly, into the eight inches of space between Preston and me, forcing our hands to break apart. “You need to just accept the fact that you’re awesome, and use this newfound street cred to help me land you the perfect boyfriend.”

  “I believe she is perfectly capable of accomplishing that on her own, baby sister,” Preston said, obviously annoyed by the interruption.

  “What, with you?” Cynthia snapped.

  Preston frowned. “I never said—”

  “You’re an alpha, Preston.”

  “I know that.”

  “As if you’d be allowed to date anyone besides a natural female werewolf.”

  Preston’s face turned bright red. “I’ll have a choice!” he hissed.

  “Like I did?” Cynthia challenged.

  Preston paled instantly and he rose without further argument. “Keep a close eye on her tonight,” he ordered Cynthia, and then left.

  “What was that about?” I asked as I watched Preston huff away.

  Cynthia didn’t answer. She was now fingering a ring that hung around her neck by an old shoelace. She must have had it tucked beneath her shirt. I’d never seen it before. “How much do you know about Samhain, Grace?”

  I shook my head—I didn’t know much—but Cynthia didn’t see me. She was staring into the flames of the fire in front of us, her mind a million miles away. “Just what I’ve read,” I answered aloud. “But who knows how much of that is accurate. I know it’s on Halloween. It has something to do with a harvest—though what exactly you guys harvest is beyond me—and I know it’s supposed to be the most magical day of the year. Lots of bad hocus pocus happens tonight.”

  Cynthia smiled faintly, still staring off. “All of that’s true,” she said. “But there’s a lot more to it than that. Samhain means summer’s end. The supernatural celebrate two seasons, Light and Dark. Samhain marks the end of the summer and begins the season of the dark. It’s kind of like our New Year. It’s about putting the past behind us and making a new start. It’s about reflecting on the previous year and honoring those we’ve lost. Traditionally we each offer up a personal sacrifice to the gods by burning it. That’s why the giant bonfires.”

  I looked back at the fire. I liked that it had purpose other than being some kind of party decoration. “A sacrifice, huh? Did you want me to jump, or do you need to tie me up?”

  Cynthia finally brought her eyes into focus and looked at me. She laughed for a minute, but it quickly turned to a sigh and she started fiddling with the ring around her neck again.

  “What’s that?” I asked. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know, though. It looked like an engagement ring.

  “My sacrifice.”

  “It’s beautiful. Whose was it?”

  “Mine.”

  I gasped before I could stop myself, but Cynthia wasn’t offended. “I had to keep a lot from you, Grace, but not because I wanted to. I hated hiding things from you. I’m glad I don’t have to anymore. You remember our fight this summer?”

  I smiled. “I wouldn’t have called it a fight. You were just really cranky so I told you to call me when you got over yourself. That week of silence sucked, by the way.”

  “That week I’d been betrothed against my will.”

  I gasped again and threw my arms around Cynthia. She laughed at my reaction, but sank into my embrace as if she still needed the comfort.

  “I was much worse to everyone else, but I was so angry I couldn’t help taking it out on you, too. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. That’s awful. I’m glad I could be a scapegoat.”

  “You’ve read enough werewolf books to know a little about pack life. Well, my dad’s the alpha but he’s also a really good guy. There are some packs out there where mates are chosen for you, but my dad has never forced anyone into commitment.”

  “So what happened?” I asked, pointing to the ring.

  “When I turned sixteen my dad’s right hand man, so to say, second-in-command of the pack, asked my dad for my hand in marriage.”

  “But you were only sixteen!” I was appalled by the thought. “How old is he?”

  “He was twenty-five at the time.”

  “Twenty-five? And he was eyeing a sixteen-year-old?”

  “It wasn’t like that. I’m the only natural female in the pack, and the daughter of the alpha. Usually natural females are given to alphas, but in our pack the future alpha was my brother, and my dad had promised everyone a choice. He asked me if I wanted to marry Jackson and I said no, so he refused the pairing. But Jackson was very well liked by the pack. He was strong, and healthy, and a great warrior. He was very much the pride of our pack. Even my father respected him and trusted him with his life.

  “Jackson convinced the pack elders that it was in the pack’s best interest to not lose our only natural female. Since I can’t go to our future alpha, they assume Preston will eventually mate with a natural female from another pack. They see pairing me to a natural male in the pack, even if not an alpha, as an opportunity to double the rate of natural females, which means more females born in the next generation. The pack elders were so adamant that my dad caved and betrothed me to Jackson. I was to become his mate on my eighteenth birthday.”

  Cynthia pulled the ring from around her neck and handed it to me. “Jackson gave this to me and in return I gave him and Dad and all the elders a piece of my mind. It was so colorful and violent that the pack was forced to punish me. I was locked in solitary for a week—hence the silent treatment you got.”

  I was seriously going to be sick. I couldn’t believe, especially not sitting on the front lawn of George Washington’s home, that here in America things like this were allowed to happen. “Cyn…” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Caleb stayed outside my cell the whole time and then let me cry on his shoulder for the next week. Neither of us has said a word to my father in six months. I’ve been a bitch to the entire pack—especi
ally Jackson. But Jackson only saw it as a challenge. Wolves are like that. They’re all about dominance. Jackson had everyone in the pack fooled except for Preston, Caleb, and me. I could see it in Jackson’s eyes that he was looking forward to winning me over. Breaking me would be a more accurate term.”

  “So what happened? How come you’re talking about all of this in the past tense? Did your dad finally let you out of it?”

  Cynthia’s face became bleak. “I got lucky. Five or so weeks ago Jackson was killed.”

  “Oh! That’s awful! I mean—”

  Cynthia grimaced. “No, it’s okay. It was pretty awful. It devastated the pack. My father especially. Jackson had been sent on some top-secret mission and was killed by another supernatural. At least, we assume he was. None of us really knows for sure if he’s dead, but there’s not really any other explanation. He never came home, so they sent a search party. They picked up his trail and found remnants of his blood and the blood of something else. They think it was another wolf, but they couldn’t tell for sure. There was no body and no leads. They’ve given up trying to figure it out.”

  We sat in silence for a couple minutes until I gave Cynthia her ring back.

  “I feel awful because I’m so relieved.” Cynthia’s voice had taken on a distant quality again. “But I do feel bad that he died. That’s what this sacrifice is about. I’m trying to respect him the way he deserves. I need to put my bitterness behind me and make amends with my pack. I need to forgive my father.”

  “Sounds like a good plan, I guess.”

  “It’s a goal,” Cynthia corrected. “But I don’t have a plan as to how I’m going to achieve it. Even though Jackson is dead, I know now that I won’t really have a choice whenever my time comes again. I’ll be given to someone in the pack in order to avoid being traded to another pack. No one’s ever said so, but after what happened with me, we know Preston won’t have a choice, either. He’ll be forced to marry whatever natural female another pack is willing to give up. How can I forgive that?”

  I had no clue.

  After a few minutes of contemplative silence, Cynthia walked right up to the flames as close as she could stand the heat. “To honor those who have passed on,” she muttered. She kissed the ring, closed her eyes, and threw it into the fire. “Blessed be, Jackson.”