by C. C. Hunter
He frowned. “It’s not the same.”
“Almost,” she said, realizing it felt kind of good knowing he cared. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’m going to run off somewhere after the turn. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
His frown tightened. “What’s his name?”
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“His name. This guy, the gallery owner that you have a thing for.”
“Kylie told you?” she asked, but strangely she wasn’t really annoyed. When explaining Cary’s behavior to Kylie, Miranda, and Della, Fredericka had mentioned Brandon. Barely mentioned him, but all three of them had picked up immediately that there was more to it than she was willing to say.
“Spill it, were,” Della had said. “And don’t try to lie, because I’ll know.”
They’d finally gotten her to admit that he was … well, hot, and drove a motorcycle, and was, well … really hot. Then she’d told them he was part were and how he’d kissed her. She probably shouldn’t have told them that, but … it had felt kind of good.
All three of them had announced they were coming to the gallery’s open house just to get a peek at the new hot artist in town. As crazy as it seemed, Fredericka had felt as if she’d been a part of something that night. A girl something. Like maybe she might even become friends with them. It seemed almost impossible, but she could dream.
Lucas cleared his throat, drawing her back to her problem at hand. “Yeah, Kylie told me about him. We’re joined at the hip, remember?” Lucas said.
Fredericka rolled her eyes. “Hips don’t have ears.” She waited for him to warn her against getting close to a human, but then recalled Lucas was different. He himself was breaking the Were Council’s rules and was planning on marrying Kylie. Fredericka admired him for that.
“Does he shift?” Lucas asked.
“No,” Fredericka said.
“Does he know you…?”
“No,” she said. “He doesn’t even know that he has were blood. I mean, I think he senses it, but just hasn’t accepted it.”
Lucas shook his head. “But that’s where you’re headed, isn’t it, to see him? Why? If he doesn’t know, this is not the way to tell him.”
“I’m not. I’m going there to…” She hesitated one second, then decided she might as well tell him. “I’m going there to protect him. I’m scared Cary might try something.”
* * *
As soon as the shift was complete, Fredericka’s paws hit the dirt and she moved with the wind. She wanted to get to Brandon’s as soon as possible, before Cary did—if that was his plan. Of course, she could be wrong, as Lucas had pointed out, but she didn’t want to chance it.
Brandon was … already too important to her.
As always her muscles burned and ached a bit after a turn. But it was a good pain, like someone rubbing a sore shoulder. Pushing herself into a full-fledged run worked the soreness away. Soon the liberating feeling of being in her were body took over.
As she ran, cutting through the woods, hiding in shadows as she darted through neighborhoods to get to his house, a sad thought hit. Brandon would never feel this. Never know the freedom of shedding his human form and seeing the whole world through different eyes.
Then she remembered how it had felt to ride his motorcycle, a sense of freedom and power. Had he subconsciously turned to riding to experience something that gave a similar sensation to shifting?
As she neared Main Street, she picked up some lingering were scents, not strong enough to know for sure if they were Cary, but enough for her to push herself to move faster.
She was less than a block from Brandon’s home and gallery when the were scent grew stronger. Inhaling, the hair on her back stood up as she recognized the scent. Cary was already here.
Knowing how fast a were could kill a human, her speed grew faster.
A growl rose from Fredericka’s throat and she prayed she wasn’t too late. Now with the gallery in sight, she spotted Cary in wolf form leap over the back fence. She charged, her hind legs pushing against the ground as she flew over the fence after him.
He must have sensed her, for her paws hadn’t hit the ground when he pounced. Their bodies met midair and the fight began. Unprepared for his attack, his jaws clamped down on her neck.
Thankfully, the fall to the ground offered her a chance to escape before his sharp teeth ripped into her flesh. She rolled once on the ground, shot up onto all fours, and growled. He already had his stance, ready to pounce. His eyes glowed orange, but no doubt hers did as well.
He had more weight on her, and probably strength, but she’d never backed down from a fight and had lost few. His lips curled up in a menacing growl, and she sensed he wasn’t just out for blood. This was a fight to the death.
He charged again. They met in midair. His weight knocked her to the ground. He landed on top of her, his teeth cutting into her side. Pain had a howl slipping from her lips. She turned, sinking her teeth into his neck. Blood, his blood, spilled on her tongue. His jaws released and his yelp brought her pleasure. But she knew she’d barely broken his skin.
He bolted back; for one second she hoped he was satisfied that he’d left her injured and would leave. But his menacing growl said otherwise. He didn’t plan to stop. One of them wasn’t going to make it through the night. By no means was she backing down, but with the wound in her side, she accepted her odds were not great.
A cloud must have shifted in the sky, because the wooden wolf statue seemed almost spotlighted. Anger rushed through her with the thought that if she failed, Cary wouldn’t stop with just her. He’d go after Brandon.
A surge of adrenaline fueled her fury. She wanted to live. Wanted to protect the artist whose hands had made the wolf. She wanted to know his kisses, to spend time basking in his smiles.
She attacked. Her mouth found the spot on his neck and she buried her teeth in deep. He pulled away, but not before she tasted more blood.
He howled, his eyes growing brighter. His breathing labored. At least now they both fought with their own wounds.
Suddenly in the distance she heard several other wolves. Fredericka recognized those howls. Lucas and some of the pack had come after all. But they were too far away to stop this now.
Cary pawed at the ground, as if ready to finish it. She lowered her head and growled, telling him she wasn’t going down easy, and ignored the pain in her side.
Suddenly something flashed past. Fredericka knew immediately it was a vampire. And not just any vampire, but a certain half-Chinese vamp whom Fredericka had enjoyed diet sodas with just a few nights before. Then landing beside her was another vamp, or rather a chameleon in vamp mode.
If anyone had told Fredericka that she would have been happy to see vampires on a full moon, she would have thought them crazy. If anyone had told her that Della and Kylie would have come to her rescue, she’d’ve called them a liar.
Cary’s hair stood up on the back of his neck and he growled at the two vampires. The howls of her pack echoed closer and Fredericka saw when Cary knew he was beat. His orange gaze shot to the fence, and he leapt up and over six-foot slats of treated lumber to escape.
“That’s right. Run, you chicken-shit dog!” Della said, sneering after him, her canines extended and her eyes glowing neon green. The two vampires’ gazes shifted to Fredericka.
“You okay?” Kylie asked, her eyes fading to their soft blue color.
Fredericka nodded. Her wound was not fatal, but it would have kept her from fighting at her best, which might have allowed Cary to finish her off.
“You go,” Kylie said. “We’ll hang out here to make sure he doesn’t come back.”
But then Della muttered something, and they both flashed off.
And that’s when the light on the back porch flashed on.
The sound of the back door opening echoed in the night.
Every were instinct inside her told her to run, to leap over the fence. Every Fredericka instinct told her to stay.
Brandon stepped out onto the porch, wearing only a pair of navy boxers. His hair was mussed, his eyes heavy from sleep. The moon brushed against all his bare golden skin. She noted his muscles seemed more pronounced than before. He might not shift, but his body still grew stronger due to the moon.
Fredericka couched down a bit, hoping he could read her body language that she wasn’t there to hurt him. She knew the exact second his gaze found her, because he gasped. Yet it didn’t seem to come from fear, but perhaps awe.
He moved slowly toward her. When he got a few feet from her, he held out his hand. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
In her heart, she knew it to be true. She let him touch her. He turned his hand over slowly and ran his fingers over the top of her head. As a wolf, she’d never been petted by a human, and it felt wonderful. And for the first time she understood the few weres that actually hung with humans while shifted.
“It’s not you, is it, Nana?” he asked.
Fredericka’s heart jolted. He knew.
He dropped down on his knees, and looked her right in the eyes as if searching for her identity. Fredericka got a feeling she should go. But not before saying good-bye.
She moved in and brushed her unwounded side against his arm.
“Don’t go,” he said. But she couldn’t stay. She could hear Lucas and several others in her pack nearing the other side of the fence.
She went to give him one more brush with her snout when he ran his hand down her other side.
He pulled his hand back quickly, glancing down at the blood. “You’re hurt.”
She moved away. Looking back one more time, she saw his sister standing behind him. Thankfully, her eye was in place.
Fredericka nodded her head at the woman, then leapt over the fence.
* * *
Burnett had Cary picked up the next morning. Because he hadn’t actually killed anyone, and it came off just as a fight between two weres, Burnett couldn’t arrest him, but Burnett promised to put the fear of God in him. Knowing Burnett, she didn’t doubt his ability to do just that.
Fredericka was both excited and nervous about seeing Brandon. After her first class, she ditched school, and went to talk to Holiday.
“He knows.” She told her about what he’d said to her the night before.
“But he doesn’t know what you are, right?”
She dropped down into the chair across from the redheaded camp leader that she’d come to respect. “I don’t think so, but I want to tell him.”
Holiday exhaled. “You really like him, don’t you? And not just as a boss?”
Fredericka didn’t deny it. She told Holiday about his scars, and how she’d never shown anyone her own scars and yet she’d shown him. “I know it sounds crazy, but it almost feels like I understand him better because we both have them.”
The fae leaned back in her chair. “It doesn’t sound crazy, but … it’s best if you let him come to the realization himself. Hearing someone say this can really mess with a human’s mind.”
“But what if he never comes to the realization, or never says it aloud?”
“From what you told me, he’s close,” Holiday said. “Don’t push it.” Then she leaned forward. “Have you seen the sister again?”
“Briefly last night. But I … might see her today.”
Holiday nodded. “Remember what I said. Stay calm and try to get her to talk to you.”
Fredericka stood up to leave. She got to the door when Holiday spoke up.
“Did you read it?”
Fredericka turned around. “I can pay my tuition now. He left me over a hundred thousand dollars in the bank.” She noted Holiday’s surprise. “Didn’t Marissa tell you about the money?”
“No,” Holiday said. “She told me the reason he left you with Lucas’s father was because he had enemies after him and his biggest fear was that they would take you to hurt him.”
She nodded. “He wrote that in his letter.” She swallowed the lump of hurt that swelled in her throat. “I still say he was wrong. He should have at least told me.”
“People make mistakes,” Holiday said.
“He was a hit man for some human mob boss.”
“Some of those mistakes are worse than others,” she said, sadness in her voice.
She hesitated to say it, but because it was the one thing that made her a bit less angry, she forced the words out.
“Did she tell you how he died?”
“No,” Holiday said.
“He’d been hired to kill someone. He didn’t know until he went there that it was a girl. A young girl. He couldn’t do it. Instead, he went to the girl’s father, who was the real target, and warned him. My dad wrote me in a letter that she reminded him of me. He said that he knew if he didn’t do the job, the person who hired him would come after him, but he did it anyway because he felt as if it was his way of redeeming himself.”
Fredericka felt tears sting her eyes and she saw similar tears appear in the camp leader’s green gaze. Then Holiday spoke. “He gave his life for someone else. He wasn’t all bad.”
“I guess not.” She started out, then turned back. “Thank you for encouraging me to read it. It still hurts. But you were right. It helped.”
* * *
She almost called Brandon to tell him she was coming early and then decided to just surprise him.
Much to her dismay, he wasn’t home. Or he wasn’t answering his door. For one second, she worried Cary might have gotten to him.
Snatching her phone out, she dialed his number. By the second ring she was panicking, then he answered.
“Hey,” he said. “If you’re calling to cancel, I’m not hearing it.”
She chuckled, relief washing over her, the sound of his voice pulling a soft emotion to her chest. “No, I’m calling because … I came early. I’m here and you’re not.”
“I’m in Bayberry … about an hour north of Fallen, at a storage shed my sister had. She had some of my stuff here from years ago.”
“Art?” she asked, thinking he could have other pieces to add to the gallery.
He paused. “No. My … grandmother’s things,” he said. “She had a diary.”
She swallowed and her heart raced. “Really?”
“Yes. She wrote some really interesting stuff,” he said. “And some of it … some of it reads like … it was written to me.”
“Really?” she said again because she didn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it when I get there.”
“Okay.” She bit down on her lip.
“Go on inside. Wait for me, okay?”
“Yeah. But it’s locked,” she said.
“There’s a key under the fake dog poop in the front flower garden.”
“Fake poop?” She laughed.
“Yeah. My sister’s idea. I’m gonna head out. See you in a bit.”
* * *
Fredericka found the fake poop and unlocked the door. She’d barely gotten the door open when, in the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of yellow, the same color of Linda’s sundress, disappear into the kitchen.
Pushing back fear, Fredericka hurried inside, and followed her.
Only Linda wasn’t there. Or maybe she was, but just not showing herself. The cold from the room sent chills up Fredericka’s arms.
Remembering Holiday’s advice, she forced herself to speak. “Linda? Can we talk?” And please have both your eyes in their sockets.
The sound of the wind chimes from the other room filled the cold air. Fredericka walked into the front room where the chimes hung.
“Brandon told me you made these,” she said. “They are beautiful.”
She waited to see if she would show herself. She didn’t. But the chimes kept playing.
“I want to help you,” Fredericka said. “I want to help Brandon. He wants answers. And … answers are good things sometimes.”
Still nothing.
Then the chimes stopped ringing. Like really fast. The dead silence of the room reminded Fredericka of the other time when …
She heard a car stop in front. She heard the motor cut off. Then she heard footsteps treading across the front yard.
Moving to the front door that she’d left open, she confirmed what she’d feared. The man standing in the side yard looking between the two houses was the same guy she’d seen in the car a couple of days ago. The man Brandon said was Linda’s old boyfriend. The same one Brandon believed killed Linda.
Then he swung around and started for the porch. Fredericka probably should have been afraid, but all she felt was fury. This man had taken Linda’s life.
He stopped when he got onto the porch and looked at her, still standing in the doorway. Looked at her the way disgusting men looked at women. The hair on the back of her neck rose, warning her that this man was trouble.
She checked his pattern to make sure he wasn’t anything more than human. He wasn’t. But she noted his pattern was murky. So her perception of him was right on target.
She took a small step back, but not so far he’d think it was an invitation to come inside.
“Hey, gorgeous. Where’s Brandon?” He moved in closer and even leaned against the door frame as if he was too sexy to stand on his own two feet. But holy shit, what she wouldn’t give to knock him on his ass and give his ego a good squashing. Squash it like the no-good worm he was.
“He’ll be here shortly,” she replied matter-of-factly, if not a bit cold.
“Can you give him a message for me?” He reached out to touch her hair.
She stepped back and glared at his hand.
“Sorry, it’s just so pretty. Girls like you make guys wanna touch. And be touched. I even have a few scars if that’s what turns you on.”
Her hackles rose up so fast, she had to hold back a growl. “Does your message have anything to do with Linda and her disappearance?”
His demeanor changed from guy-on-the-prowl to pissed-off murderer. Changed so fast, she suspected this guy either had mental issues or was a user of some badass drug. Or maybe both.
“Yeah.” He leaned in. So close she could tell he’d had garlic for dinner last night and had overlooked his oral hygiene. Then he put his face right in hers. And that was the wrong thing to do. Everyone knew you didn’t get in a were’s face.