by Jess Haines
“You want me there when you do it?”
“No.” I sighed. “How about you call Arnold, Janine, and the cops, then head upstairs for that movie? I’ll call Mom and Dad after you go. I have the feeling I’m going to need some alone time afterward.”
She gave my shoulder a squeeze. That simple touch was enough to remind me why I needed to stick to my plan. Sara didn’t deserve to be dragged into my mess. It was up to me to make this right.
Chapter 32
Sara made her calls, and I waited in the living room until she was done. The call to Detectives Smith and Yarmouth didn’t take very long. She let them know we were safe and had a place to stay. That she’d heard about Jim, and no, we didn’t have any information on what had happened other than what was in the news. Yes, she’d check in with them in a few days.
The call to Arnold was similarly brief. He’d already packed some things, having planned on going into hiding since my phone call to him. He knew where Royce’s home was and would be careful to keep any visits to a minimum. We broke the rule about not giving out the phone number so he could get in touch with me if he found a cure.
Next, she called Janine. That took longer, since Sara’s chronically neurotic sister didn’t quite grasp immediately that being in hiding meant not telling anyone where we were or how to reach us. Sara kept her voice calm and soothing, letting Janine know that it would be a while before she’d see us again, but that she promised to stay in touch.
I swear, Sara has the patience of a saint. I would’ve hung up on Janine by the third repetition.
I listened in on Sara’s end of the conversations with half an ear. Most of my attention was focused on figuring out exactly what to say to my parents and my brother. Needing a little comfort, I whistled to Buster and Roxie who were lying down on the rug a few feet from the couch. Though I called them, the dogs wouldn’t come to me, shying away from my touch. It was most likely from the heavier scent of vampire on my skin. Realizing that did nothing to improve my mood.
As soon as Sara was done, I got my rolodex and settled down in front of the phone, staring at it as though it might make the phone calls for me. She paused on her way out the door, peering at me over the counter of the breakfast bar.
“You sure you don’t want me to stick around?”
I gave her a grim, cheerless smile. “Yeah. This is something I have to do on my own. Thanks, though. I’ll be up to join you in a little while if this doesn’t take too long.”
Sara’s look made it clear she knew I was lying through my teeth. Rather than call me on it, she nodded slowly and turned away. “Don’t forget you’ve still got friends, Shia. We’re here when you need us.”
I didn’t say anything as the door shut quietly behind her. Her words smacked a little too closely of what Royce had said to me, making the lump in my throat too hard to speak around. I muttered a quick prayer under my breath, then picked up the phone and dialed my older brother, figuring whatever he had to say to me was no doubt the lesser of two evils. My hands shook badly enough that I had to redial twice to get the right number. It didn’t take long for him to pick up.
“Mike here.”
“Hey, it’s Shia.”
“Shia? Jesus Christ, where have you been?! I’ve been trying to reach you for three days! Are you okay?”
I cringed, covering my eyes with my hand. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m fine. Sort of.”
“I saw the paper. Who did it? I swear to God, I’ll kill them with my bare hands—”
“Mike!” I cried, cutting him off. Yeesh, he was more like me than I liked to admit. Being brash and hot-tempered must be a signature Waynest family trait. “Don’t do anything stupid. They’re Others. It’s too dangerous.”
He growled something I didn’t quite get, then resumed in a reasonably normal tone. “Where are you? Mom and Dad have been worried sick.”
“I can’t say. Sara and I are hiding out for a while. We’re safe.”
As safe as we could be surrounded by vampires, that is.
“Damien said he stopped by your apartment today and the door was unlocked. Looked like everything was okay inside, nothing missing that he could tell.” That gave me a chill. I distinctly recalled locking up behind me. While theoretically the lock could have been picked, the only other person who had a key to my apartment was Chaz. If it was him, when would he have stopped by? What would he have done if he’d found me there?
“Police have been looking for you, too. They called the family. Are you going to need someone to rep you in court?”
“Maybe. You offering?”
“What are big brothers for? I’ll protect you if you need it. Pro bono and everything.”
I chuckled. “You sure the rest of Graves and Pearson are going to appreciate that? This might be a bit heavy for them.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re family. The partners can take a hike—I’ve been thinking about opening up my own office anyway. Enough of that, though. Tell me what happened.”
I did. As tempting as it was to keep mum about some of what I’d done the past few days, I didn’t pull any punches. He stayed quiet, asking a couple clarifying questions, but otherwise not interrupting as I explained to him my relationship with Chaz, what really happened at Damien’s birthday, how I ended up contracted to Royce, and why that had so much to do with what happened this weekend. I told him about Chaz’s infidelity, the Nightstrikers, the Cassidy family, even what I did to destroy Chaz and Kimberly’s things after I found out he was cheating. Basically, everything Mike might need to know to defend me in court.
He made a faint sound—a mixture of worry, disgust, and anger, all balled up into one—when I told him that I’d been scratched and potentially infected with lycanthropy by Dillon.
It took a while to get it all out, and by the time I was done, I felt about a million years old. The emotional gamut left me high and dry, too wiped out to be prepared for his response.
“Wow. Mom’s probably going to kill you when you tell her.”
That set off a fit of giggles. Which quickly devolved into guffaws. Soon, I had tears streaming down my cheeks, and it wasn’t entirely thanks to the uncontrollable laughter that exploded from me at Mike’s observation.
Once I managed to get myself back under a semblance of control, Mike spoke up. “You sure you’re going to be all right?”
“Yeah,” I gasped, choking back a last chuckle as I wiped a few tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “Jesus. Mom is really going to have a fit.”
“Do you want to tell Damien, or should I?”
My younger brother avoided the news like the plague. Unless my parents had said something to him, he probably didn’t know a thing about what was going on with me yet. “I’ll call him later. He should hear it from me.”
“Okay, no problem. If you get pulled in for questioning by the authorities, call me before anyone else. Got it?”
“Got it. Thanks, Mike. I owe you big time.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Hey, if you turn furry, don’t tell Angela. She’s been riding my ass to go to one of those Were-run restaurants for the last two months. I think she’s got it bad for them.”
I laughed again, a bit more normally this time. “Okay. Tell her I said hi. I’ll call you later in the week.”
“Take care. Love you, sis. Stay out of trouble.”
“No promises.”
Feeling a bit better knowing my big brother had my back, I didn’t have such a hard time dialing my parents’ number. Though I’d gotten lucky last time and only had to leave a message after disappearing for a few weeks during the aftermath of Max Carlyle’s visit, this time my dad picked up the phone.
“Waynest residence.”
My heart sank at the hoarseness of his voice. He’d started smoking again, something he only did when truly stressed.
“Hi, Dad.”
There was a long beat of silence. Too long.
“Dad?”
“Where are you?”
I cringed. He was not pleased. Not at all. “Hiding. Safe. Dad, I’m really sorry I didn’t call sooner, but there’s a lot of bad stuff happening right now. I need to explain—”
“I don’t want an explanation.”
I hesitated, uncertain what to say in the face of his cold wrath. “I’m sorry.”
“Were the papers right? Have you been infected?” He said the last word like it was something dirty. Maybe it was.
“I was scratched. I don’t know if I’m … like that … yet.”
He went quiet again for a while. I didn’t say anything, waiting tensely for him to speak. When he did, it was brusque, bitter, and exactly what I was terrified of when Sara argued with me earlier about making this call. She didn’t know my parents like I did.
“You’re not welcome in this house. Do you understand me? I don’t know what you are, or what you’ve become, but you’re no Waynest.” He spat out that last as if I were some thing, some wretched beast too disgusting to behold. I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. “You broke your mother’s heart. I won’t let that happen again. You hear me?”
“Dad, please—”
“Don’t call me that!” he roared, making me flinch. “You’re not our little girl anymore. Don’t call this house again!”
He slammed the phone down, cutting the connection. I slowly lowered the phone from my ear, staring down at the plastic while shock settled in like an old friend, here to stay.
At first, I didn’t move. I know I was crying. Wetness trickled down my cheeks, fat drops of moisture falling to spatter on the linoleum. I could see them fall, but couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel anything but cold numbness, seeping from my head to my toes, spreading over my limbs until the phone slid from my deadened fingers to land with a sharp crack on the floor. One of the dogs barked once at the sound, but they didn’t come to investigate.
I slowly slumped down to my knees, my back resting against the cabinet, as the weight of what my father had said truly hit me.
The man who taught me how to ride a bike, who took me to the hospital when I broke my arm falling out of a tree when I was little, who gave me my first car, who held me when I cried after being dumped at my senior prom, who told my mother I was a big girl who could make her own decisions when I decided to be a private investigator—no longer wanted me in his life.
I wrapped my arms around myself and huddled on the floor for a long time, alone, doing what I could to hold myself together so I wouldn’t shatter from the loss. It wasn’t working very well. Waves of sick grief rolled over me, crushing everything, stealing away my breath.
It was a very long time before I could bring myself to get back on my feet and keep moving like there was something left of me to save.
Chapter 33
I’ve held up to a lot in my day. Psychotic magic-users, crazy vampires, and cheating boyfriends are no walk in the park. Being bound by blood to a vampire, losing myself to him, and then having that closeness ripped away from me in the agony of withdrawal was quite possibly one of the most physically and emotionally painful experiences I’ve ever had.
None of those things prepared me for being disowned by my father.
Once the immediate edge of shock wore off, I didn’t take the time to consider what I could do to fix it. I didn’t pause to consider the consequences of my actions. I didn’t stop to think holy-hell-what-am-I-doing?
Instead, I went straight to my room and donned every last piece of hunting equipment I owned. A few drops of Amber Kiss perfume would ensure my scent would be dulled to supernaturals, while the body armor would protect me from claws and fangs, giving me a fighting chance at surviving things no mortal should ever have to face. My guns went into the shoulder holster, soon hidden beneath my trench coat, a replacement after the last one was shredded in a fight for my life.
The belt came last. Though in the course of my breakdown it felt like it had been a long time since the sun went down, it wasn’t quite midnight yet. There were a lot of hours left to the night.
A lot of hours left to hunt.
The belt knew what I wanted.
On silent feet, I left the apartment. No one was in the hall. Whoever was on guard duty did not notice my stealthy exit.
Instead of trying to sneak past whoever was on watch at the front door, I headed to the back of the hall and took the stairs two at a time, pausing on the landing of the second floor. The sounds of heavy music, a car chase, and laughter came from the last door on the right side of the hall. The door was open, and I could hear the undertones of a few voices beneath the soundtrack of mayhem; the party was in there. Sara would be with those people, enjoying herself, safe for now in the shadow of the vampires who had seen fit to take us in. I’d have to pass by that open door to reach the window at the end of the hall, right above the roof of the foyer. There was a chance I might be seen by one of the vampires old and fast enough to stop me, even with the benefits granted by the belt.
It was a chance I’d have to take. If I stayed here, Royce and the other vampires wouldn’t let me do what needed to be done.
I ran—fast—faster than I could ever remember running before. The doors to either side of me were nothing but blurs, and all I did to protect myself was cover my eyes with my arm at the last moment, right before I leapt through the window.
Glass shattered with a sound so sharp it hurt my ears, so newly attuned to the quieter sounds of the night. Sheer momentum was carrying me much farther than expected. I was airborne.
For one heart-stopping moment, I was terrified.
Then, the utter rapture of the belt kicked in, reminding me that—with its help—I was now something more than human.
We flew, reveling in the wind making our hair stream, cutting through the material of the body armor as a cold caress, making the trench coat flare behind us like dark wings. As light as a bird, we landed on the roof of a car parked in front of the building, using it as a lever to leap off before it could be crushed under our weight.
There were shouts and cries from behind me, but I didn’t stop running.
The hunt for those who had wronged me was on.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek
of the new H&W Investigations novel,
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Days left to full moon: 24
My fingertips pressed against the cool stone of the ledge, helping me balance as I crouched on the balls of my feet. The heavy winds choked with smog and tainted with the stink of the Hudson threatened to push me off the edge of the apartment building’s roof if I wasn’t careful.
People bundled against the cold moved five stories below me, oblivious, never thinking to look up. Hours had passed since I’d fled Alec Royce’s apartment building with nothing but murder on my mind. It had taken me a while to find my current perch. I’d been waiting up here for nearly an hour after first checking inside the apartment, and my mark had not yet shown. Strain burned in my calves, but I remained as I was, held in check despite my desire to rampage through the city, destroying everything in my path until I found my targets.
‘You are so impatient,’ a voice whispered in the back of my skull, tinged with an edge of laughter. ‘Just wait. He has to come home sometime.’
I growled, the sound reverberating deep in my chest.
‘Touchy.’
“Shut up,” I snapped, running my fingers through my hair to shove the errant curls out of my eyes. “If he doesn’t come soon, I won’t have enough time to do anything. The sun will be up in less than an hour.” I’d been counting on Dillon being home so I could destroy the bastard before he hurt someone else. Or at least beat him into new and interesting shapes to make him think twice before infecting another uncontracted human.
‘Maybe he spent the night with someone. Or left for work before we arrived.’
I didn’t say anything, a pang of doubt giving me pause. The belt wrapped around my waist was the source of the voice in my head; a voice that woul
d be banished once the sun rose. Aside from providing moral support and snarky commentary, the first rays of morning light creeping over the horizon would take with it all of my enhanced skills and senses, leaving me frail and human again. Though most of the time I hated what the belt did to me, I couldn’t afford to be without its help while facing down an angry werewolf.
‘Then wait until tomorrow night to face him. Use the day wisely; get some rest and food to build up your strength, and use those P.I. skills of yours to track him down.’
I nodded, turning away from the street and huddling into my trench coat against the cold. Now that I’d had a few hours for my ire to cool, I found that I was suffering from a wintry, calculating hatred instead of the heated, unthinking rage which had driven me here to begin with. Despite that the wait was really weighing on my nerves, it had given me plenty of time to think about what I was going to do once Dillon showed his face, and what I would do about the other Sunstrikers who had driven me to hunt them like the cowardly dogs they were.
In the space of a few days, my entire life had turned upside down. Not that it had been particularly normal to begin with, but my now very ex-boyfriend Chaz had been cheating on me. He’d also been running some kind of werewolf mafia ring right under my nose. Though I had no solid proof, I was sure his pack had something to do with the murder of Jim Pradiz. Not that I’d liked the sleazy reporter, but it was terrifying to know that the werewolves were willing to stoop so low to silence him.
To top things off, one of the Sunstrikers had scratched and quite possibly infected me with the lycanthropy virus. It would be weeks before I’d know for sure if I was going to join the ranks of the terminally furry come the next full moon. Clearly, thanks to the murder of Jim Pradiz—which the Sunstrikers were somehow connected to, I just knew it—I would never be one of that pack whether or not they accepted me. It was entirely possible that they were out to kill me, too.