by J. L. McCoy
I knew I shouldn’t put off calling him any longer, so I bit the bullet, pulled out his card, and dialed his number before I lost my nerve. I listened to the phone ring as I turned the car north, heading toward my next stop.
“Corvus Frost,” a familiar voice answered. It sounded like I’d woken him.
“Hello, Corvus. It’s Skye Morrison.”
“Well hello, kitten,” he purred sexily, obviously happy to hear from me. “I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I know it’s a little early in the day for this call, but I need to speak to Atticus.”
“Have you reconsidered our invitation to join us?” he asked, hope apparent in his tone.
“Uh, no,” I answered, almost sniggering.
“Too bad, kitten.” I heard a rustle of fabric, and it sounded like he was getting out of bed. “I was salivating at the thought.”
“I’m sure you were,” I replied dryly, rolling my eyes. He’d always been a shameless flirt. “As thrilling as this conversation is, I really need to speak with your maker. It’s rather an urgent matter.”
“What’s this about?” he asked, his tone immediately changing as he dropped the flirtatious act.
“You guys really haven’t heard anything about what happened here in Austin last night?” I questioned, a bit surprised. I would have figured with their connections, and the numbers the Dark had, something would have made its way back to them by now.
“No. Explain,” he commanded.
“Does the name Stanus Octavius mean anything to you?” The abrupt snicking sound of his fangs sliding down and his answering hiss were the only confirmation I needed. “You’d better let me talk to Atticus.” I sighed. “This is quite serious.”
“Master will not be pleased to hear this name, Skye Morrison,” he warned. “But it’s your funeral.”
I heard the sounds of Corvus moving through the stone halls of their underground colony. A minute later came the sounds of him apologizing profusely as he awoke Atticus.
“You have interrupted my slumber,” Atticus growled angrily into the phone. “This had better be life or death, Miss Morrison.”
Oh shit. He sounded pissed. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, but I thought you should know what happened here last night,” I said quickly, trying not to ruffle the feathers of the leader of the Dark Ones. “Stanus Octavius was in Austin.”
He growled out a string of angry words in a foreign language before speaking to me again. “Explain. Now.”
“The night I returned to Austin, Dark Ones started showing up to Archer’s club in droves. Somehow, word had gotten back to them that I’d been extended an invitation to join you and they were under the impression that my conversion to Dark was imminent. I informed them of my choice to stay with the Day, and some were unhappy with the decision.
“The same night, Archer got a call from the alpha of a local werewolf pack complaining about a group of Dark Ones being in his bar. I was recently informed that vampires avoid werewolves at all costs, so I knew the occurrence was serious. Archer and I went to covertly check out the vampires as a favor to the alpha, and we learned who they were.”
“Stanus Octavius,” he hissed slowly. “That’s all I care about.”
“I’m getting there, I promise,” I placated, before taking a deep breath and speaking a little faster. “Turns out, Weston Ley and Stanus Octavius were among them. Archer filled me in on who they were and gave me some background info on how they related to you. With their appearance, along with the unusual influx of Dark in the club, we knew something was up, but didn’t know exactly what. Two nights ago, Weston Ley showed at Archer’s club to see me. He said he and I had a mutual friend that needed my cooperation, and to get it, he’d kidnapped a friend of mine to guarantee I’d comply with his demands. She’d been missing for a few days, and I had no idea he’d taken her. Weston explained the only way I could get her back alive was to meet him at an airfield here in Austin last night and willingly go with him to an undisclosed destination. He said after I helped him with his as-of-yet specified task, he’d allow me to return home if I chose.
“Archer wanted to make sure that my friend was safely rescued and that I’d not have to go with them, so he called the local alpha to a meeting where a plan was set up that the local werewolves would help us.”
“You consort with those repugnant, primitive beasts willingly?” he asked, practically spitting his disgust out. “I may not like the man, but I figured Archer Rhys to be above such things.”
“The alpha has been a friend of mine since before my rebirth,” I defended between gritted teeth, getting angry but trying desperately to keep my cool. “And if it wasn’t for him and his pack, Weston Ley would still be alive and Stanus would be coming for your throne... and your ass.”
Atticus hissed loudly, and I heard his fangs slide down. I pictured him standing in his underground lair, gripping the phone tightly, with his irises pitch black.
Good, I thought. Asshole needs to realize what we did for him last night.
“Now if you’ll let me finish, I’m almost done.”
“Continue.” He forcefully annunciated each syllable.
Taking a deep breath, I spilled the rest before he had a chance to interrupt me again. I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep my temper for long with him throwing insults around like he was. Insult me all you want, but my friends and family were off limits. “When I pulled up, there were over two hundred Dark waiting for me on the airstrip. Stanus didn’t come to play, let’s just put it that way. Once I was silvered, they released my friend, and that’s when the werewolves and my family stormed the strip.
We had one hell of a battle on our hands, and it wasn’t cake, but we defeated them in the end. Most died fighting for Stanus’s cause; some fled on foot, though, during the melee.”
“And what of Octavius?”
“He managed to escape in the jet while we were otherwise engaged. I tried my hardest to catch him, but he was too far ahead of me by the time I’d finally managed to dispatch Weston.”
“Did Stanus say why he wanted you? How do you know it was my throne he was after?”
“Once I was silvered, they told me their plan. You’re not going to like this at all, but don’t shoot the messenger, okay? None of this was my fault.”
“Just get on with it, Miss Morrison,” he barked impatiently.
Treating the news like a Band-Aid, I delivered it fast so it would theoretically hurt less. “They wanted me to pretend I was interested in joining the Dark so I could infiltrate your organization and get close to you. Stanus believed he was the rightful heir, and he wanted me to kill you so he could take your throne with Lucian’s help. Once you were taken out, Stanus planned to reward my father with a place as his successor upon his final death.”
A low growl tore itself from his throat, and I heard a loud crashing sound as something was thrown. Atticus continued to trash his surroundings for a good minute, before he screamed for Corvus. I picked up muffled orders and waited patiently for him to regain his composure. I knew the news had been shocking for him. Finding out how close you were to death, that there had been a pretty solid plan in place for your demise, had to be jarring.
“Why am I only now hearing of this? Why didn’t you inform me last night or this morning?”
“You’re not the only person dealing with shit, Frost!” I growled, pissed. “My father ordered Weston Ley to burn down my fucking house. My house, Atticus! In the process, he burned down my best friend’s side of the townhome as well. And to top it all off, I find out the father I just met has been lying to me and using me for some sick scheme to murder his own leader. So excuse the fuck out of me if I didn’t call you the second it happened. I needed time to process.”
“And have you processed, Miss Morrison?” he roared into the phone. “Do you have your perfect little insignificant life all figured out now? How dare you not inform me the instant you knew
what was happening!”
“I was a little busy saving your fucking throne!”
A muffled voice permeated Atticus’s heavy breathing, and I tried to calm my own while they talked.
“Your father is missing,” the leader of the Dark Ones said gravely into the phone. “His clothes are gone and there is no sign of him. It looks like he fled last night.”
“That’s not surprising.” I ran a hand through my hair. “He had to know I’d call you.”
“There are matters I must attend to. I’ll be in touch,” he said quickly before ending the call.
“You’re welcome,” I scoffed in disbelief, looking down at my phone. “Jerk.”
I guess thanking me was the last thing on his mind at the moment, but I couldn’t really begrudge him for that. I’d thwarted a potential coup, and I knew he’d have the colony on full red alert as he tried to assess the situation and flush out any other potential participants. This was big news to him, and I had a feeling he was worried. It was obvious he knew nothing about the plan that had been in the works. If I hadn’t stopped Stanus and Weston, would they have ultimately made me do their dirty work?
“Pfft! No fucking way,” I derided, dropping the phone into my purse. “As if.” No one pushed this alpha female around.
Lifting my gaze to my surroundings, I found myself sitting outside my former home on Comanche Cove. I hadn’t meant to drive here straight away. There were other errands I’d wanted to do, and I’d planned on saving this stop for last. Seeing the charred remains of my beloved home was a kick in the stomach. It hurt and also made me feel immensely guilty. Because of me, my best friend, my soul sister, was practically homeless. I knew in that moment I’d exhaust every outlet—beg, borrow, or steal—to get her house reconstructed for her.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door to the Porsche and climbed out, slowly making my way down to my house. The burnt smell that wafted from the destruction was heavy, cloying, and sharp. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get the smell out of my head now, as I’d think of it any time I remembered what happened here.
I started at my place and gingerly stepped my way around fallen debris as I searched for signs of salvageable things. My side of the townhome suffered the worst, and there was really nothing remaining except charred beams, melted plastic, and furniture frames. While I toed parts of the wreckage out of my path, I deeply mourned my beloved house and the irreplaceable things I’d lost.
“What the fuck happened here?”
I jumped, completely startled, and turned to the voice in surprise. My best friend was hurriedly stomping toward me, an enraged look on her face. I was so surprised to see her and eagerly drank in her form. I hadn’t seen her since she left with Dean, and I did a quick once-over down the length of her and back, acutely assessing her state. She looked to be in decent shape, and I was glad for it.
“Nikki?” I questioned, carefully stepping over a pile of rubbish in my six-inch pumps as I started toward her. I hadn’t even heard her and Dean drive up. Hell, it felt like I’d left Dean’s bar only half an hour ago. I’d somehow allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts. “What are you doing here?”
“He just told me what happened.” She frowned, throwing her arm out behind her. Her hand hit Dean’s chest, and she turned her head, surprised to see him on her heels. He was closely following her, an unhappy look on his face.
I quirked an eyebrow up at Dean, and he frowned, crossing his corded arms over his chest. “You try telling her no.”
I knew having this conversation with her was inevitable, but that didn’t mean I was looking forward to it. Her state was fragile at the moment, and I didn’t want to upset her more. Me and my problems had done enough to the poor girl. Shit. I sighed as I stepped onto the driveway and pushed my long red hair out of my face. “I was hoping you wouldn’t come here. I didn’t want you to see it like this.”
“What the fuck happened, Skye?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest as well, her stance matching Dean’s perfectly. I would have found it comical if this hadn’t been such a serious situation. “What did you do?”
What did I do? Feeling shocked and a little pissed off, I crossed my arms too, mirroring their closed-off stance. “I didn’t do anything,” I huffed out. “I was out on the north shore of Lake Travis at Archer’s house when I got the call from the arson investigator.”
“Arson investigator?” She turned her head and watched as Dean took a step beside her and stared at me.
Told you I was going to tell her, Dean said silently.
Shit! My face frowned. He may have not been able to read my mind like I could his, but he got the message loud and clear.
Better to tell her now than wait for her to heal and then break her all over again with the news. I thought it best to get it over with. You knew she would have questions. She was already starting to protest the clothes I’d bought her.
I know. Dammit, Dean, I shook my head. He was right. She needed to know, sooner rather than later.
Throwing her hands up, Nikki exploded, “Will someone please just tell me what the fuck happened to my house?”
I swallowed thickly as I turned my attention to my best friend—most likely former best friend after this. “My father asked the people who took you to burn down my house,” I said softly, embarrassed.
Her brow furrowed as her mouth dropped in shock. “Your father? What the shit, Skye? How... when...?”
I proceeded to tell her the story of my own kidnapping and how I found out my father was a vampire. When I got to the part where I met Stanus and Weston at the airfield and explained that they told me they set fire to our house at my father’s request, Nikki just lost it.
“So, you’re telling me I lost my house because of you?” she seethed angrily. “I was kidnapped, raped, drugged, and my house set on fire all because those vampires wanted you to join their sick, twisted little group? Fucking seriously?”
“Calm down, St. James,” Dean ordered sternly beside her.
I gazed at her with wide, teary, apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, Nikki. I’m really, truly sorry. I had no idea they’d taken you until they brought you into the Mausoleum that night. If I had known sooner—”
“Oh, fuck you, Skye!” she shouted, her fists clenched tightly down at her sides, as her body quivered hard, full of intense rage. “Fuck. You. Everything I had, you took away from me. On top of all the other shit I’ve just been through, I have nowhere to live now. My entire life is destroyed, and it’s all your fault. My house, Skye. My fucking house! You know what it means to me! You know how hard I had to bust my ass to buy it! I’ll never forgive you for this. Never! You’ve ruined my fucking life!”
Like it was happening in slow motion, Nikki was suddenly rushing forward and I watched with a sick, knowing resignation. This had been too much for her to handle. Her fist connected with the side of my face, and I closed my eyes tightly as the weight of what had just happened sank in. My heart practically shattered on impact. My best friend had just hit her absolute breaking point, and I’d pushed her there. She’d never before, ever, raised a fist to someone in anger. I knew now just how very broken and angry she was, and I despised myself for putting her in that situation. This was it, I had a feeling. Nikki and I wouldn’t be coming back from this. I knew deep down that our friendship was finished.
The world seemed to stop for a second, and we all froze at the sound of her fist hitting my face. I slowly turned my head back toward Nikki, tears of sadness stinging my eyes. Bringing up one shaky hand, I gingerly cupped my face as the tears in my eyes finally broke free.
Dean growled lowly behind her, anger and empathy painting his face, as he quickly jerked Nikki around to face him. “No hitting,” he barked as he gazed angrily down into her eyes. Her own tears began to fall and he frowned, his face softening considerably. He put one hand on her shoulder as his eyes lifted to me.
“You okay, toots?”
“I’m fine,” I whispered unevenly
as I took one last long look at my former best friend. I’d wanted to sear this moment into my brain to call upon if I was ever tempted to have a human friend again. It was obviously dangerous being my friend, and I’d stay the hell away from Nikki if that meant she’d be completely safe from the hazards of my new life. I loved her enough to let her go.
Slowly, I put one heeled foot in front of the other and made myself walk away, silently heading back to the Porsche a few houses down.
Chapter Four
“Sakes alive, Skye. You look downright terrible,” Trey drawled in his sweet southern lilt as I entered the kitchen thirty minutes later. After the blowup I’d had with Nikki, and the draining day I’d had as a whole, I’d lost all interest in running my errands and just wanted to get back to Archer’s.
“Trey,” Padraig admonished softly, gently touching his shoulder as I took a seat at the kitchen table next to Lochlan.
“Oh!” Trey gasped, suddenly picking up on my emotions. His face morphed from one of surprise to sorrow and then pity. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. What happened to you today? Your emotions are positively gloomy.”
“Wha’s botherin’ ya, Feek?” Lochlan asked as he slung his left arm around my neck and pulled me in for a side hug. “Rough day at tha office?”
“I saw Nikki,” I whispered, laying my head on his shoulder.
“I take it that it didn’t go well,” Archer said gently from behind me.
I turned in my chair and watched as he took the last few steps toward me. His face was as handsome as always, but held a new, deep sympathy for me.
“She hit me,” I breathed out, my eyes beginning to tear up at the memory. “She actually punched me in the face.”
Archer held out his hand, and I immediately clung to it as he pulled me from my chair and wrapped his arms tightly around me. “Cion,” he whispered tenderly as he placed soft kisses about my face, seemingly determined to find the area she hit and replace the painful memory with the feel of his love.