by Kasi Blake
He remembered the dinner with Summer and hesitated. When he got a whiff of Isobel upstairs, his fangs had revealed themselves. His parents had almost seen them. If that happened here in front of Bash, he was a dead man.
Maybe he should teleport home. Later on, he could say someone saw him standing there and offered him a ride. He accepted rather than let the guy tell his parents. He could say he was worried about his secret identity as a hunter coming out.
Before he could make a final decision, the front door burst open. A young man ran outside and halfway down the cement path. Then he saw Trick. Moonlight hit the guy’s eyes, turning them gold. It still seemed odd to Trick that werewolves looked human, totally normal until they chose to transform. They had metallic claws that were invisible to most. Trick saw them. Good thing since he had to avoid getting scratched.
He compressed his lips, determined to keep his mouth closed no matter what.
Bash stepped on the porch to watch the battle.
Keeping himself in check while fighting a werewolf was not going to be easy, Trick realized. He had been born with a reckless streak. The word caution was not in his vocabulary. Being careful went against his nature.
The werewolf glanced over his shoulder at Bash. Choosing Trick as the easiest exit point, the werewolf charged him. The nasty beast swung his metallic claws at Trick.
Trick jumped back, avoiding the claws. He half-turned, bent at the waist, and placed a hand on the ground as if preparing to do a cartwheel. His leg swung up hard and fast. He kicked the werewolf in the jaw.
The werewolf stumbled back.
Showing off, Trick did a few moves he’d seen in martial arts movies. Fortunately for him, Bash had literally saved the weakest of werewolves for him. The beast was tall but skinny without any real muscle definition, and he was an amateur when it came to fighting.
Trick looked at Bash, hoping to see approval in the hunter’s eyes.
Bash sighed as if weary and tossed the sword to Trick. “Finish him. This is a battle, not a dance.”
Disappointed, Trick swung the blade.
The werewolf’s head rolled off his shoulders and hit the ground with a dull thud. Then the body joined the head in the yard. Instead of jubilation, Trick experienced a sliver of depression. The anti-climatic ending made him feel like he was standing in quicksand, sinking deeper with each breath.
Bash passed him on the way to the jeep. “Clean my sword,” Bash said. “And shine it. Return it to me tomorrow.”
“I am not your servant.” Stiff from anger rather than the cold, Trick shouted, “We had a deal. You teach me how to fight like you and tell me stories about my father. So far, you’ve given me nothing. If you aren’t going to keep your word, then go. I’m not playing your games anymore.”
The hunter went to his jeep, climbed inside, and drove off without pause. He left Trick stranded on the edge of town. The buses didn’t even come out that far. If Trick couldn’t teleport, he would have been in deep trouble. Was this another test? Had the hunter left him alone on the side of the road to see if he could find his way home?
Trick considered throwing the sword on the sidewalk like a piece of garbage. That would teach the jerk not to leave him without a ride home. His fingers curved around the sword’s hilt, enjoying the weight of it in his hand. He almost dropped it on the ground, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t leave such a beautiful weapon in the gutter.
With a sigh he glanced around to make sure no one was watching before teleporting home.
♫
He teleported into his bedroom, bloody sword in hand. His knees trembled, adjusting to the carpeted floor over the concrete he’d been standing on moments before. The change of location also brought on a fierce wave of hunger. His hand went to his stomach, and he worried about losing control while under the roof with his family.
Blood bags didn’t satisfy him to the same degree anymore. He got hungry within hours now instead of days. He should move into the mansion until the curse ended. There was still the matter of who would stake him if he lost control. He sensed a few awkward conversations coming his way.
Trick started to sit on the edge of his bed. The door burst open. It banged against the interior wall. He jumped about a foot off the ground and quickly searched his mind for a reasonable explanation for the sword.
Lucky for him it was only Matt.
“Don’t worry,” Matt said. “Mom and Dad went out for a late dinner.”
“Good.” Relief flooded Trick. He lifted the sword high enough to draw Matt’s gaze. “Wouldn’t want them to see this.”
Matt swallowed, looking a bit green. “Do you have to bring your bloody weapons into the house?”
“Bash ordered me to clean and shine it, if you can believe that.”
“The more you tell me about this guy, the less I like him. Sounds like a complete jerk.”
“Can’t disagree,” Trick said. “He hasn’t told me a single story about my dad. Every time I ask he ignores me. He keeps saying he’s going to train me, but he didn’t even let me watch him kill the werewolves tonight.”
Matt sputtered, “W-werewolves? I thought the teacher and that dark-haired girl were the only hairy monsters alive.”
“Cowboy says Jersey is building a new werewolf army, and I think he’s right. As soon as I deal with Oberon, I’ll take out Jersey Clifford. Or maybe I’ll do him first.” He shrugged. “Haven’t made up my mind yet.”
Trick stared down at the sword in his hand. Should he clean it? Or should he tell Bash where to stick it? Their agreement wasn’t working in Trick’s favor, but he wasn’t ready to walk away. He considered talking to John Foster since he was part of the same hunting group as Bash. The group wanted Bash to befriend Trick and talk him into joining them. They might not appreciate knowing the hostile hunter wasn’t being friendly.
Matt announced, “I’m going to the mansion to see Summer.”
“Want a lift?”
Trick put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and they popped over to the mansion in the blink of an eye. They teleported into the foyer. Matt wobbled and almost went down. His skin took on a heavier green tinge. Trick caught him before he fell. “Breathe.”
A few deep breaths later, Matt was himself again. While Matt ran upstairs to see Summer, Trick raced to the kitchen. He dropped the bloody sword on the floor. Hands shaking, he grabbed two blood bags from the fridge. He swallowed the contents as quickly as he could. His heart was racing, and his head sank beneath an invisible ocean. He almost felt like he was drowning.
Thirst quenched, he leaned against the kitchen island. A few minutes and he’d feel normal again. Then he could deal with the sword. What was wrong with him? The blood lust seemed to be getting worse by the day. He still felt shaky, weak.
A disturbing bit of information nibbled on the edge of consciousness. There had been something wrong, something missing in the refrigerator. Trick retraced his steps to the black double-doors. He opened the right side and bent down to peer into the back. The whole top shelf was crammed full of blood bags while the other shelves held regular food.
Where was the blood Silver had given him?
He pulled out every single blood bag to search for the vial. Silver’s blood was important, a precious treasure that could save him from werewolf venom. Even Cowboy had agreed it was a good thing to have on hand; now it was gone. Had the other vampire taken it?
After digging through the refrigerator twice, he put everything back. The vial of blood was gone. Problem was, Cowboy had disappeared too. Was there a connection between the two?
Trick hid the sword beneath the mansion’s leather couch before teleporting home again. He appeared on the dark side of the house. The neighbor to their left was on vacation, so his lights weren’t on. Trick was careful to pop up behind a bush where no one would see him until he moved into the open.
He circled around to the front of his home, intent on speaking to John Foster about his hunting buddy Bash
. The man hated Trick, but he seemed to follow orders from his group. With that in mind Trick headed down the path between properties for the Foster’s backyard.
He didn’t get far.
Dani shouted his name from somewhere behind him.
He stopped.
She raced down the same cement path he was on and met him near the Donovan’s back door. Even though she had approached him instead of the other way around, her eyes showed wariness. She was afraid of him.
“Sorry I scared you before,” he said. “Oberon put a curse on me, so my hunger is like a hundred times worse than most vampires. Until he’s gone it won’t be safe to be around me. We’re going to have to say goodbye someday anyway. Maybe we should just do it now.”
Trick held his breath, secretly hoping she would fight for him.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Can you do something to break the curse?”
He shrugged, feeling awkward again. He didn’t want to spend his last moments with Dani talking about his vampire problems. The pain in his chest expanded. His lungs refused to take in more air. If this wasn’t love, he didn’t know what it could be. Indigestion?
She admitted, “It will be weird not hanging out with you.”
“You’ll get used to it.” He shrugged, knowing he had lost her. “If we don’t go our separate ways now, we’ll have to do it later anyway. I still plan to leave town when I turn eighteen.”
“How do we do this?” She tucked long strands of brown hair behind her ear. “When we see each other at school or outside here, do we ignore each other or wave or what?”
Dani always had to ask the hard questions. He stared at a point over her shoulder, unable to think and look in her soft brown eyes at the same time. Most of the lights were on in her house. Part of him wished Baxter would stick her head out and yell for Dani. He hated goodbyes.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Handle it however you want.”
When he would have walked away, her hand reached for his. Her fingers slid over his palm. He completed the connection by grasping her hand in a firm grip. Raw emotions choked off the words he wanted to say. Knowing it might be the last time he got to touch her broke his heart.
“If you ever need anything, you can call me,” he said. “Doesn’t matter what happens. I’ll be there for you.”
“Me too.” Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. “I mean, there probably isn’t a situation where you would need my help, but if you do...”
“Goodbye, Dani Foster.”
“Goodbye, Trick Donovan.”
They turned at the same time and headed to their homes. He replayed the conversation on his way to the back door. An urge hit him to glance over his shoulder to see if she was looking over hers at him. He opened the back door and stepped over the threshold as a blood-curdling scream exploded from somewhere behind him.
Dani!
His feet took off running in her direction before his brain had the chance to catch up. She was standing in her backyard in front of the swing set, and the dog was barking inside the house. Poor Carter scratched at the terrace doors, desperate to help.
Trick’s hands landed on Dani’s shoulders, and his lips parted to ask what was wrong. Then he saw for himself the horrific scene that had made her scream. She turned, a sobbing cry wrenched from her throat. Her entire body sagged. He caught her around the waist before she fell too far.
John Foster was sitting on the swing, eyes open but unfocused. If it wasn’t for the fact his arm had looped around the chain, he would be on the ground. Trick didn’t have to take the man’s pulse to know he was dead. His lips were blue as if he hadn’t tasted oxygen in a while.
Tears slid down Dani’s cheeks, and her lower lip quivered. “D-d-daddy?”
Trick hugged her tight and turned her away from her father’s dead body. He stared at John, searching for specific details like what had killed the man. There wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere. Trick didn’t have to search the body for wounds. If there was blood, he would smell it.
Maybe John had died from natural causes.
Trick’s gut told him it had been murder. Whether by werewolf, vampire, or faerie, John’s life had ended prematurely. Poor Dani would never be the same. It was possible Baxter might send her to live with her aunt in Arizona now. He remembered how sad she’d been after her dog’s death. He wanted to be there for her, but how could he when he had a maniac after him? Not to mention the fact he could lose control and bite her.
He smoothed her hair with one hand while making a silent vow to take care of her. It was his job. After all, she was his person.
♫
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ghost of Me
Cowboy drifted around the mansion like a ghost, moving from room to room without any real human contact. He grew tired of being alone. Out of desperation he went to Summer’s room and stood in the corner. She didn’t bother to wear the black veil when no one was around. He tried not to look at her face. The wrinkles and sagging skin made his stomach churn.
Her cell phone beeped, letting her know she had a text. He read the words over her shoulder. Matt was on his way. Cowboy hoped he brought his brother. Maybe Trick would finally notice he was missing.
Why couldn’t he get through to Summer? They’d been friends for decades. She ought to be able to sense his presence. He tried yelling, tried grabbing stuff to throw it, and he’d even tried whispering in Summer’s ear. Nothing worked.
With a frustrated sigh Summer sent a text in return: Don’t come over.
Cowboy’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you always have to be so contrary?”
Of course, she didn’t hear him. Another text came through. Matt was insistent on seeing her. They went back and forth for a few minutes.
Cowboy shouted, “Let the boy come over! Since you don’t care I’m gone, Matt may be my only chance. I need that geek to tell his brother I’ve gone missing.”
Then he remembered his own cell phone. He pulled it from his pocket and grinned. Because it had been on him when he’d vanished, he was able to use it. The grin widened. He hit Summer’s number and raised it to his ear.
She glanced at her cell when it rang. Instead of answering, she shut the thing off and mumbled, “Leave me alone.”
Bitch! What was wrong with her? Maybe she had a little problem, but he was dealing with a huge one. The least she could do was answer her stupid phone.
Cowboy called Trick next.
His buddy would help him.
After half a ring, the call was denied.
Cowboy stared down at his cell and wished painful deaths on his so-called friends. A vampire couldn’t count on anyone these days. He mumbled a few threats beneath his breath. Who needed enemies like Oberon when he had them?
A gentle fist knocked on the door.
“It’s me,” Matt said. “Come downstairs. If you don’t, I’ll be back, and I’ll kick down this door.”
Cowboy laughed at the thought of nerdy Matt Donovan trying to impress Summer by breaking her door. His bones would crack long before the sturdy wood. Now that might be an interesting show.
Matt went downstairs, and Cowboy followed. There wasn’t a sign of Trick anywhere. Cowboy’s fists tightened. He wanted to beat someone senseless. If he didn’t find a way to work out his frustration soon, he’d go insane.
He trailed Matt to the living room and stood in the corner while the mortal boy sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. Matt shuffled a deck of cards before dealing two piles. The guy had a lot of faith in Summer. To be honest Cowboy wasn’t sure what she would do. Wouldn’t surprise him if she teleported to another country.
A few seconds later, Summer entered the room in her widow’s garb. The ridiculous outfit covered her from head to toe, every inch of her. She sank to her knees at the coffee table. Without a single protest she picked up the cards she’d been dealt. “Do you have any fours?” Summer asked.
Cowboy stared at them with his mouth wide open. Is this what they did when
they were alone together? Play cards? No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t balance that image with the Summer he knew. Easily bored, Summer thrived on an active New York City sort of lifestyle.
“I’ve got two,” Matt said.
He handed her the cards, and she added them to hers. Neither said a word about anything other than the game. They played for what seemed like hours to Cowboy, but was probably less than one.
Unable to keep still a moment longer, Cowboy walked around the room. He made a giant circle, passing the terrace doors, fireplace, and eventually the chairs and books in the reading corner. While he walked, he muttered under his breath. “You people are useless. If Summer had gone missing, I would have noticed. Of course, everyone would have noticed because there would be silence for a change.” He glanced at the ceiling. “Where is our unwanted guest? She was in my face day after stupid day, making my life hell. She’d notice my absence.”
The big-haired girl had taken his cat with her. Maybe it would have been able to see him.
Cowboy circled them and took a long look at what they had in their hands. The boy was telling Summer the truth about his cards. Neither of them was cheating as far as he could tell. What was wrong with them? The best part of playing games was cheating and not getting caught. He thought he’d taught Summer better. What was she thinking? Was she really in love with the sensitive goofball?
Matt sighed. “I wish I could see your beautiful eyes.”
“They aren’t beautiful anymore,” Summer said.
“I don’t believe that.” He reached across the coffee table and placed a hand on top of hers in a gentle gesture that made Cowboy gag. Matt added, “You are more than just a pretty face, you know? You’re sweet and fun and a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for. I fell for the whole girl, not the face.”
Cowboy made a rude noise in the background. “Idiot. Take off those love goggles before she rips your throat out. Sweet? Yeah. She’s as sweet as a rattlesnake. Boy, she is going to eat you alive.”
Being in the same room with the lovebirds was almost unbearable, but he didn’t want to be alone.