Of A Darker Nature

by Clay, Michelle

  Yeah, she knew.

  Corey’s dark eyes flicked away to search the crowd once more. “Marcus is going to blame me if something happens to him.” He shoved fingers through his hair. “I should have done more. If I hadn't been hurt, I might’ve been able to keep them from taking him.”

  Even though Corey put on a brave face, he sounded just as scared as she was. She squeezed his hand in her own and tried to find a reassuring smile. She recalled a glimpse of a memory she’d seen yesterday in Marcus’s room. He cared for Corey, trusted him and felt responsible for the kid. Marcus gave Corey his own blood when he’d nearly died. She’d felt his emotions like they were her own. “He won’t blame you, Corey.”

  He tipped the bottle to his lips and winced at the alcohol’s sting. “I hope you're right.”

  The crappy band at the other end of the building started up again after a short break. The crowd surged to life, swaying and gyrating to the angry beat of the music. In a way, it was hypnotic, watching all those people lose themselves to the rhythm.

  The crowd parted, allowing newcomers to pass through. From their depths came a couple of familiar faces. One wore determination while the other donned a terrified expression.

  Wren looked like death. Her body had taken on a skeletal appearance, complete with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. The purple streaks in her hair looked drab and washed out. Each movement was slow and deliberate as if the mere twitch of a muscle hurt her.

  Emily tried to get up, but Corey grabbed her arm and forced her to remain seated. “Not so fast. I got in big trouble last time for letting you run off.”

  Marcus shoved Wren into a seat.

  Emily frowned at her scraped shoulder and frightened expression. Had he hurt Wren because he was mad at her? “What did you do?”

  He snarled in answer. Before she could say more, Scott and another man dressed in jeans and a blue work shirt joined them. The man thrust his hand toward her, a toothy smile on his bearded face. “John Degas.”

  Emily accepted his outstretched hand and introduced herself.

  Degas cocked his head, gray eyes narrowing. His nostrils flared, taking in her scent then his gaze flicked in Marcus's direction with what appeared to be approval. Marcus looked away.

  Scott sat next to Emily. “What’s going on? Has anyone heard anything?”

  Wren shifted in her chair. “I have to go before someone sees me hanging out with you guys.” Her expression took on one of fierce determination. “Starr has Isabella’s grandson.”

  Wren held up a hand to ward off any questions or outbursts. “I don’t know where she took him. I overheard a few of the guys talking and can only tell you what they said. They’re going to make a trade— Isabella for Evan. They think Marcus cares enough about him to betray her.”

  The words had barely escaped her lips before Marcus said, “No trade.”

  Wren’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Scott and Degas kept their eyes downcast, seeming to know it was Marcus’s call to make. Corey looked like he wanted to say something.

  Though Marcus hid his feelings well, it must have been torturing him to make such a decision. Emily reached for his hand. “Marcus…”

  “No trade,” he repeated a bit more forcefully. “The witch will destroy her. This will cause a war between the masters of the surrounding cities. Everyone will fight for control of Isabella’s area.”

  “Her second choice is Emily. Starr knows Emily holds the key to using the ley line. If she isn’t handed over, Starr will take her by force.” Wren clasped Emily’s trembling fingers in her own, a sincere look of concern on her pallid face. “She’s going to kill you during the Beltane celebration. That’s when she’ll perform the ritual.”

  She stole a glance at Marcus and her breath caught in her throat. He honestly looked like he was considering the deal!

  His eyes narrowed on her, taking on a cavalier appearance. “And did they mention when or where this trade would go down?”

  Scott stood and put his hands on the table. “Find another way. We’re not trading her either.”

  Wren shook her head. “I suspect it’ll be near Emily’s place so they can move onto it once the spell is broken. Starr has to be near the ley line to manipulate it. Look, I don’t believe she’d actually give the grandson up. He’s too good a bargaining chip. Starr wants both, Isabella and Emily.”

  “Why should we trust you? You’re one of her coven,” Degas shot back. “C’mon, Marcus! How can you believe anything this woman says? The witch probably sent her here.”

  Wren met Emily's gaze. “Starr put a sickness spell on me. Doctors can’t find anything wrong physically, but I'm dying. Starr promised to help me. That’s the only reason I assisted her before.”

  “Do you think she’ll cure you?” Emily gripped Wren’s hand in her own.

  “Starr thinks my ability to whip up potions and charms is something to keep close at hand. I can hide the outward appearance with my charms, but until I find a way to break her spell, I’ll continue to die. The bitch said she’d cure me if I help, but I don’t believe her. Besides, I couldn't live with myself if she hurt Emily.”

  Scott looked shocked. “My god, Wren! Why didn’t you say something?”

  She shrugged. “What good would it do?”

  Degas was unconvinced. “What have you done for her?”

  She afforded Marcus a sheepish look. “Sorry about the other night. Those were my charmed bullets.”

  “Nice piece of work.” Marcus arched a dark eyebrow. “Almost punched my ticket.”

  Wren had the grace to look embarrassed. “All I know is she wants it to happen around Beltane. I'm sorry I don’t know more specifics. She kind of keeps me in the dark.”

  “What’s Beltane?” Corey’s brow furrowed in confusion.

  “It’s a celebration to welcome the approach of summer. We observe the union of the God and Goddess, new life, fertility and stuff like that. I guess Starr is going for a new life slant.” Wren grimaced. “She’s bastardizing our Sabbat.”

  “We can’t trust that you won’t turn on us.” Suspicion narrowed the band of blue in Marcus’s eyes. “If she promises to cure you…”

  “I hate the bitch. She has to be stopped. She isn't going to cure me, we all know that. She's laying low to conserve as much strength and power as she can. I suspect it took a lot out of her tonight when she hit your hiding place. She’ll have to recharge a bit.” She tilted her wrist to peer at the glow-in-the-dark watch. “Look, I gotta go. I’m sure someone has seen me talking to you guys and will tell her. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Wren stood and gave Emily’s shoulder a squeeze before she hurried away.

  Degas twisted in his seat and tilted his head toward Wren. A short, brunette pushed away from the wall and followed the witch through the crowd. He must have noticed Emily’s worried glance because he said, “She’s just going to follow her, make sure she doesn’t meet up with Starr.”

  Emily didn’t know if she could trust this explanation or not. Knowing she had no choice in the matter disabled any argument she had. “So, what are we going to do?”

  “There isn’t a whole lot we can do.” Marcus leveled his gaze on her. “The witch is making the calls now. We have to wait for her to tell us what the rules are.”

  Degas shook everyone’s hand, including Emily’s. “I'm going to go make sure everything is okay with Isabella. She had one of the boys rearranging my furniture when I left. Guess she didn't like the feng shui or whatever. See you guys later.”

  Marcus's expression was unreadable. “Corey, why don't you and Scott see if you can round up some of the usual suspects? I'd like to see if we can't shake a few answers out of them.”

  Emily shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Marcus, I wanted to tell you, but couldn’t.”

  He rolled his shoulders and glared at her. “I suppose saying something along the lines of ‘Isabella paid me to read you’ never crossed your mind?”

  She opened her mouth to
say something in defense, but clamped it shut again. What could she possibly say to ease the hurt?

  “I hope she got her money’s worth.” Marcus pushed Corey’s unfinished bottle across the table. “How does it feel to be Isabella’s whore?”

  “Marcus, I…”

  “What exactly did she pay you to look for?” His eyes were downcast now, studying his hands atop the table. “What did you see?”

  Emily took his hands and was surprised when he didn’t pull away. “I saw a man who has endured a lot of undeserved pain. A man who stands up for who and what he believes in and does what he feels is necessary, even though it may cause him sorrow.”

  Marcus shook his hands from her grasp. His agitation felt alien to Emily like it wasn’t merely anger he felt, but something more.

  Emily fingered the heart at her throat. “I wasn’t going to tell her anything. Not after I got to know you. I care about you too much.”

  “You took her money.” His voice was full of accusation and hurt. “You'll tell her whatever she wants to protect your sister.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Besides, you weren’t truthful with me either.” They stared at each other for several seconds before she found her voice again. “Please, can’t we just start over?”

  She wanted—no, needed—to say more, but didn’t get the chance. Corey and Scott returned with a scruffy looking guy in tow. Emily spent the next hour and a half listening to them question people.

  The crowd dwindled into the early morning hours. Marcus took Scott and Corey aside in the parking lot. Emily tried to remain subjective.

  “The two of you will accompany her home. Don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll be with Degas, putting together a team and getting things ready. We’ve got to get this right. I’ll see you after dark.”

  “We need to talk about this.” Emily wished she could get a few minutes alone with him. Even though they’d only known each other for a short while, she didn’t want to imagine life without him.

  “There's nothing to talk about.” Marcus shied away from her outstretched hand. He dropped into his car and disappeared into the night.

  Emily was close to tears. Despair wound its way around her heart. She wanted to run after him and scream his name. Damn it, didn’t he understand she was in love with him? Didn’t he care at all?

  Scott threw a supportive arm around her shoulders and led her to his car. Corey trudged along behind them, quiet and lost in thought.

  The sun was close to rising by the time they pulled up in front of the house. Corey did a quick check of the property and surrounding area before he called it a night. He tucked himself into Marcus’s bed, but not before inviting her to join him.

  Scott helped himself to a sandwich then joined her on the couch where she had curled with an old blanket. Though the television was on, she paid no attention to the images flickering across it.

  Scott waited a bit before he tore into her. “I told you nothing good could come out of your arrangement with Isabella. You should have turned her down and kicked Marcus out before this got out of hand.”

  “Butt out, okay?” The vehemence she’d aimed for didn’t make it into her voice. She allowed her head to fall back against the cushion and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “I can’t, Emily. I care about you, and it tears me up inside to see you involved in this mess.” When he received no response, he continued. “Why’d you sleep with him? You’ve been off kilter ever since.”

  “How’d you know?”

  Scott tapped his nose. “I can smell him all over you and your scent is on him. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Surely there was a better way to get the information you needed.”

  “I’m in love with him, Scott.” Her voice caught on a sob.

  “He’s a corpse, Emily. You’re fucking a dead man.” He glared at her and shook his head. “He can't give you the things you need.”

  “Don't.”

  “His obligation to Isabella will always come first. She is his sire. He can't abandon her unless she releases her power over him.” He plowed on, despite the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don't you want to get married someday? Have babies? He can't give you children. He can't walk alongside you on a sunny beach. His way of life is different than what you're used to.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Her voice cracked. “It still doesn’t change how I feel about him.”

  “You’ll grow old, but he’ll remain the same. Do you honestly believe he’ll be at your side when you become old and withered?”

  Emily stood and straightened the hem of her shorts. She didn’t need this tonight. Not from him. “I think I like you better in coyote form.”

  “Is that so?” He tossed the remote aside and glared up at her.

  She turned away. “Yeah, at least you can’t talk back.”

  “I think I might teach you a lesson. That way when you’re ready to talk, my little doggy brain won’t be able to make heads or tails of what you’re saying.”

  “Stop it, Scott.”

  “I’ll be too busy chasing my own tail.” His fingers undid one button at a time on his shirt just to prove he might actually do it.

  “I'm not in the mood to argue.”

  This dumb dog act was just that—an act. He still fired on all cylinders in the other form. At least, she suspected he did.

  “Good night, Scotty. Don't pee on the rug.” She tossed an extra blanket onto the couch next to the pillow she’d left for him. Before he could prove his point, she stomped to her bedroom.

  Emily sat on the porch, watching Scotty play in waning afternoon sunshine. A startled rabbit darted out from under the honeysuckle vines. The rabbit spotted the coyote and froze.

  Scotty ran with his leathery black nose inches from the ground. His lips curled back from his teeth, and his ears lay flat against his head. The rabbit’s powerful legs carried it across the yard, Scotty close to its cotton-puff tail. The small brown rabbit burst into the trees, and the coyote stopped to scratch an ear.

  “Get over here, you mutt.” She breathed a sigh of relief and patted the porch beside her. For a moment there, she believed he might harm the little critter. She scratched behind his ears, and he flopped onto his back, exposing his belly. “You are such a mongrel.”

  The most god-awful racket came from inside the house. Both Emily and the coyote scrambled to their feet only to find Corey making his way toward them. He sang along to Marcus’s iPod.

  “Good lord, he sounds like a dying cat.”

  Scotty’s hazel gaze met hers, ears perked and twitching. She scratched his ear and said, “Maybe you could howl along with him? It’d probably sound better.”

  Scotty answered by nipping the seat of her jeans.

  Corey pushed the screen door open to join them on the porch. He popped one earphone out of his ear, allowing it to dangle past his shoulder. His gaze roved over her body, and he offered a toothy grin.

  Despite the facial piercings—a labret, nasal, and one remaining eyebrow ring—he looked almost respectable tonight. Instead of his usual clubwear, he’d donned a pair of Marcus’s jeans and one of his old t-shirts. The clothes were too big and sagged on his smaller frame. He had even combed his hair instead of working it into its usual spikes. He reached for Emily only to have his fingers snapped at by Scotty.

  Corey jerked his hand away. “Jeez, you should put a muzzle on him or something.”

  Emily grinned. “He’d just chew through it.”

  Scotty cocked his head and panted. Soon, he lost interest in them and sniffed the honeysuckle in search of another rabbit. She wished he would change back to human form, but he was undoubtedly still punishing her for the comments the night before.

  “Marcus is on his way.” Corey leaned against the porch railing. His eyes searched hers for a moment. “I hope he lets me stay a while longer. I like it here. It’s so quiet and low-key. It reminds me of home.”

  Emily raised an eyebrow. “He thought it was boring.”


  A slow grin formed on his face. “No, he didn't.”

  Instead of commenting, she went inside the house. Emily took her ponytail down and brushed her hair. She pulled on a fresh pair of jeans then made her way down the hall.

  “I was only supposed to see if she’s alone, I swear!” A frightened voice said from the direction of the kitchen. It sounded like a teenage boy.

  Emily hurried toward their voices and found Marcus pacing around the table. A dark look of contemplation warped his face. The boy squirmed in the chair.

  “What’s going on,” she demanded.

  Degas sat on the other side of the teen and rolled the sleeves of a dark green shirt over his elbows.

  Marcus placed his hands on either side of the boy's chair. The wood creaked beneath his grip.

  Degas asked, “What do you want to do with him?”

  Marcus leaned forward and smiled dangerously. “How old are you now, Riley? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

  Emily edged around Marcus and glanced out the window. Where had Corey and Scott disappeared to?

  Riley gulped and ducked his head. “Sixteen, sir.”

  Marcus didn’t look impressed. “And I suppose you’d like to see seventeen?”

  Another gulp. He looked up at Marcus with wet, pleading eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  “Why should I spare your life?” Marcus’s voice was low and dangerous. “Give me a reason.”

  “You’re my godfather, Marcus!” The kid's voice trembled.

  “I’ve ended the life of people I care about. I killed my brother.” Marcus’s face was just inches from Riley’s. There was no regret whatsoever in his voice. “Being related to me didn’t save him. How could being my godchild possibly matter?”

  Emily gasped at this admission.

  Marcus glared at her. “What? You didn’t see that when you invaded my mind?”

  The kid dropped his head as fat tears fell onto the tabletop. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not,” Marcus growled. “By working for the witch you’re putting every vampire at risk. You’ve put your mom and dad— the entire shifter community in danger. Don’t you understand the consequences of your actions, boy? Starr is out to get everyone, not just vampires.”