“I’m very pleased to meet you, but I need to go take care of this,” my father said, pointing to the doors that led into the hotel.
I nodded, sad that our first meeting was cut short.
He locked his gaze on Mirko. “Take her home, and keep her safe.” He put his hand out and the gentleman standing beside him placed a set of keys inside my father’s palm. They clanked and jingled as my father passed them to Mirko.
“Let’s go,” Mirko said, and he stood by the driver’s side door, watching me over the rooftop until I had gotten into the passenger side and closed the door behind me.
* * *
“Kaitlynn and Jaren?” I asked Mirko as soon as he pulled the car up the ramp and out into the sunlight on the road.
“Kaitlynn left on the plane with her guards, but Jaren wouldn’t budge. Part of the deal we made was that he couldn’t come on the actual rescue mission when we found you. He’s waiting at Zladislov’s,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s a persistent little punk.”
Mirko gazed at me, fierce emotion in his eyes. “I’m proud of you, Slatki. You actually did it. You took Jelena down all by yourself. Banged up a little bit, but no burn marks. I almost can’t believe it.”
I smiled, big headed. “I told you I was hard core.” I laughed. “But I had to use a new power to do it.”
“Oh, really?” Mirko grinned and raised an eyebrow. “And what was that?”
“I teleported.”
Mirko stared at me, his eyes wide.
“Yeah, I disappeared and ended up somewhere else. Instantaneously.”
He shook his head. “I got that part. I’m stunned only because there hasn’t been anyone who could do that in generations.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’ve heard of people having that power in the past, but they’re all long gone now.”
“Hmm. That must be why Lijepa couldn’t figure out why my power tasted so funny.” I smiled, knowing Lijepa would be proud of me.
“I always knew you were a special one, Slatki,” Mirko said, grabbing my hand.
He held it until just before we arrived, and I was too anxious to sit still. I’d had my chance to hold Mirko and see his face again, and I was excited to do the same with Jaren.
When Mirko parked the car, I shot out of my seat and darted toward the door. I slowed down and turned back, hesitation on my face, my shoulders sagging. I loved Mirko, but I also loved Jaren, and I couldn’t wait to see him.
Mirko shook his head. “Go ahead. He’s been as worried for you as I have.”
My heart swelled for Mirko at that moment. He wasn’t handing me over to Jaren, but he could accept the fact that I loved each of them and needed them both, but in different ways. I’m not sure he’d always be this understanding, but right now, I was grateful for it.
“Thank you,” I said and turned around, dashing toward the door.
I flung the bulky oak door aside and ran down a large hall. The house wasn’t as massive or affluent as Jelena’s had been, but my father’s decor screamed esoteric.
“Jaren?” My excitement echoed along the walls.
“Brooke?” Jaren asked, ratcheting up my excitement further.
I ran faster toward the sound, passing paintings and adornments hanging from the walls.
I recognized one, so I halted.
A gold, circular emblem suspended from the ceiling and draped along the center of the rich maroon wall. It looked like a sun with rays jutting out from the center, but the beams were beveled like the spokes from a ship’s wheel. And resting in the heart of the crest sparkled the largest ruby I’d ever seen.
“Brooke,” Jaren said, reaching me and pulling me into a hug. It took me a moment to break my gaze from the emblem, but when I did, I was thrilled to see him.
I stood on the tips of my toes and pressed my lips to his. It was my rain after a drought, but I couldn’t enjoy it with what hung before me. I pushed him back a step.
“What is it?” He asked, then lowered his brows in concern. “Are you okay?” He gently touched the side of my beaten face.
“Look,” I said, mouth parched. I grabbed his arm and turned him to face the wall.
“Yeah. It’s Zladislov’s znak.”
My knees trembled in fear. I gaped at him and my pulse pounded in my ears. “It’s also the same znak the woman who tried to kill me at the airport wore around her neck.”
The worry on his face mirrored mine, and my heart pounded so hard and fast that I thought I might hear it echoing in the hallway.
I grabbed his hand and ran alongside him toward the door that I had burst through moments ago.
###
Turn the page for a sneak peek of Dirty Blood by Heather Hildenbrand.
Dirty Blood
1
“C’mon Tara, you didn’t even give tonight a fair chance,” George said. His blue eyes were a mixture of pleading and irritation.
I returned the pool stick to the rack on the wall and tried to think of a fair answer before I turned to face him again. I was careful to keep my voice down; the tiny pool hall was pretty crowded for a Tuesday night. The smoky haze that hung permanently in the dimly lit air gave the illusion of privacy around our corner table, but I noticed the couple next to us was already glancing over, trying to look like they weren’t listening.
“George, you were an hour late picking me up because you were working on a press release with your agent.” I stepped closer. “Your agent,” I repeated, shaking my head. “Seriously. You haven’t even graduated yet, much less secured a scholarship. Why do you even need an agent?”
He ran a hand through his hair, evidence of his impatience, though he was careful to keep his tone light, in an attempt to win me to his way of thinking. “I told you already, my dad set it up. And a lot of the pros got one early, especially the big timers. And I’m sorry I was late, but I’m here now and I’m focused on us.” His expression became accusing and he added, “More than I can say for you.”
I rubbed at my temples, trying in vain to massage away the stress headache that had become a trademark of our relationship. “I’m sorry, George, but I’m not the one who messed things up. And I don’t fault you for a change in priorities. Football is important to you. That’s fine, but it’s pushing out everything else, including me. It would make it easier for you to just admit it.”
“You’re wrong, I can do both,” he insisted, shaking his head vigorously. His loose blond hair shook with it.
“You’ve cancelled on me three times in the last week,” I argued. “Not to mention standing me up two nights ago.”
“Tay-” he began, using his nickname for me.
I put my hand up to silence him. I couldn’t do this anymore. “Just stop, George. Stop with all the excuses. It’s just not going to work. You should go. I’ll find my own ride home.”
George stared back at me and I waited for him to argue some more. The tone of regret in my voice had been obvious, but so had the finality of my words. Finally he sighed.
“I’m going to find a way to fix this,” he said quietly.
I didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. Reluctantly, he grabbed his jacket and left. I watched him until the door swung shut behind him and then turned back to our half finished game. I went to the wall and retrieved my stick, as if the breakup I’d just initiated didn’t bother me one bit, and lined up my next shot.
I ignored the curious looks from the nosy couple beside me and focused on sinking the three ball. Only a small twinge of regret ate at me while I finished the game. I hadn’t wanted things to end with George. We’d known each other since sixth grade, and in a lot of ways, he was my best friend. I cared about him a lot. But he’d changed in the past few months. At first, it was so slow I’d barely noticed. We’d go two days without talking – a record for us at the time – which slowly turned into a missed date or a last minute changing in plans. Then, he got an agent, and it was only downhill from there. And while I hated thinking I was throwi
ng away everything we’d ever been to each other, I wasn’t going to be a ‘back-burner’ girlfriend, either. A girl had to have some self respect.
With the game finished, and my pride somewhat still intact over letting a pool hall full of strangers witness my breakup, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my friend Angela for a ride home.
“Hello?”
“Ang, you busy?” I asked, doubting she was.
There was a second of hesitation and then, “Um, Dave and I are having dinner.”
“Dave? That guy from your pre-Calculus class?” I knew my surprise came through, maybe a little too loud and clear, and I felt bad for the way it had come out. “That’s great,” I hastily added. And it was great. Angela had been harboring a crush for this guy for like four months now. And it wasn’t that she couldn’t get a date; she was really pretty with her long dark hair and sexy-librarian-style glasses, but she was mortifyingly shy.
“Thanks. We just ordered so…. Is everything okay? Are you already home from your date?”Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Never mind.” I decided against interrupting her. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow and I want details.”
Angela giggled and I pulled the phone away from my head to stare at it like maybe it had just morphed into another life form. Angela never giggled. “Okay, see you tomorrow,” she said.
We disconnected and I dialed my friend Sam. Even if she was out, I wouldn’t feel nearly as bad interrupting her; Sam was always ‘out’. Unfortunately, all I got was voice mail. Darn. I disconnected without leaving a message. No point. She rarely checked it anyway.
The only option left was to call my mom but I quickly dismissed that. No doubt she’d have questions as to why I’d gotten myself stranded in the first place. Which would lead to what happened with George, which was something that, even though I loved her, I didn’t really feel like discussing with my mother. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t listen. The problem was, she’d listen too eagerly. My mother was a classic worrier, and because of that, she hovered. She always wanted to know every single detail of my day, down to what I’d had for lunch and who did I stand next to in gym. And it seemed like the older I got, the worse her worrying became. No way was I calling her.
With all my transportation options exhausted, I sort of regretted letting George leave. Only sort of, though. If he’d driven me, it would have extended the argument or his pleading attempts to change my mind, which in the end would’ve pissed me off. And I was still hoping to maybe salvage our friendship.
I turned my rack of balls in to the bar attendant and walked to the door. I stood there, staring out the foggy glass of the front window, and considered my last resort. There was a bus stop a few blocks away. Not ideal in the middle of February in northern Virginia but it was all I had. I yanked my arms into my coat sleeves and headed for the back hall, past the restrooms, to the back door which would give me a minimal shortcut through the alley that ran between the building and the public parking lot on the other side. The cut-through would shave at least five minutes off my travel time, which was five minutes less I would have to stand in the cold -and I despised the cold.
I slipped out the metal door and pushed it closed behind me, making sure it clicked. A few yards to my right, a streetlamp cast a yellow beam onto the asphalt, but I turned left, towards the bus stop, and into the darkness that was my shortcut. I walked slowly until my eyes adjusted and then picked up the pace. The dark didn’t bother me; I’d made this shortcut dozens of times. The parking lot coming up on the right was free parking and I used it more than the meters out front whenever I came to this part of downtown. I passed the lot, wishing I’d driven separately so that my hand-me-down Honda – and its wonderful heater – would have been waiting for me, instead of the drafty city bus. Matter of fact, I wished I hadn’t come at all. George’s tardiness would’ve been the perfect excuse to change my mind. Especially when we both knew our relationship had already hung in the balance, precariously leaning towards ‘breakup’ before we’d even made it out tonight.
It was quiet and my boots thudded loudly against the asphalt. I hurried to reach the bus shelter, hating the bite of the cold air, and glad that the surrounding buildings were high enough to keep the wind to a minimum. I drew my coat tighter around my neck against the chill that seeped its way into my skin, giving me goose bumps from head to toe.
I hated goose bumps because it meant the hair on your legs grew back twice as fast. And I was always getting them, because of some weird cold chill that would come over me. Even in the summer, when everyone was wearing shorts and bathing suits and having shaved legs was sort of a priority. When I was younger, I complained to my mom about it a few times and she would always say that Godfreys were thin blooded and easily chilled. Then she would stare at me, with an odd expression, and disappear; either into the backyard, to weed the flowerbeds, or the pantry, to reorganize the canned goods.
The tingling of the goose bumps subsided and my thoughts wandered back to George, and all the history between us. Like in sixth grade, when he’d tried growing his hair out, saying he’d wanted a surfer look, but really, I’d had no choice but to tell him he just looked… grungy. Back when grungy was NOT “in”. And seventh grade, when he’d shaved it all off again, after we’d watched a video on career day, about the army. He’d talked about joining for months afterward; talking about how cool it would be to shoot guns for a living. Then, in eighth grade, we’d each had our first kiss, though not with each other.
George had fallen hard for the girl until her family had moved away. She was military and her dad had gotten re-stationed. He’d changed his mind about enlisting after that. Ninth grade, he’d gone out for football, and made Junior Varsity MVP. He changed a lot that year, gaining a self confidence that wasn’t there before. By the end of sophomore year I’d started to notice him as more than just a friend. Last summer had been awkward between us. I’d spent the entire time stressing over the uncharted territory of having feelings for him, and whether he might have feelings for me.
I’d never even questioned being with George. It felt natural and right. He was my best friend for so long that the only thing dating had really changed was adding kissing into the mix. Not bad, as perks go.
Up ahead, a movement caught my eye, pulling me out of my thoughts. I stopped short and felt my pulse jump at the unexpected company. I didn’t usually see anyone else in this part of the cut-through but just past the next dumpster, a girl with long blond hair and pointy-heeled boots stood in the center of the alley, shaking uncontrollably. I took a step towards her, wanting to help in some way, and then stopped again, at the look on her face. She was glaring at me with a look of hatred so raw that it sent a shiver down my back.
“Um, are you okay?” I called out, still trying to understand why she was basically convulsing. Was she having a seizure? But she was managing to stay on her feet. Her gloved hands were balled into fists at her sides, and she was breathing heavy now. I tried again. “Do you need some help?” Something about the way she looked at me was making my skin tingle and crawl. I shivered again.
“Help,” she repeated, through clenched teeth. “Right.” Her words dripped with sarcasm and unconcealed malice.
Then, before I could think of something to say to that, her shaking reached its crescendo and then she … exploded. There was really no other word for it. With a harsh ripping sound her clothes disappeared, scattering into the air in tiny pieces. In the same second, her body seemed to waver and then morph, leaving in its place the largest wolf I’d ever seen. I felt my jaw drop. Was I crazy or had that girl just turned into a giant dog?
I had a split second to stare at her and then she charged. The brown fur became nothing more than a blur as she rushed forward, teeth bared and claws extended. In that moment, I was completely sure that I was going to die. I didn’t even have time to be afraid; it would all be over too quickly.
Then, somehow, though my conscious brain had nothing to do with it, my body reacted. Just before impact, I tw
isted aside, dodging her. Using my body’s momentum, I brought my hand around and swung. I hadn’t even realized I’d made a fist, but my knuckles connected and I heard the crack of bone as my hand slammed into the wolf’s cheek. The hit drove it - her? - back a few paces but then it straightened and seemed to right itself. Its yellow eyes locked onto mine and it came again. I shed my jacket, and let it fall next to me on the asphalt; some hidden part of me knew I needed better use of my limbs.
Three more times I managed to dodge the wolf as it lunged. On the fourth, its claws caught on my shirt and raked down my abdomen on either side, driving me back. I stumbled and fell. My back slammed onto the pavement with a hard thud. Again, I accepted my inevitable death. I watched as she continued to come at me, slower and more confident now that I was on the ground. All I could see were razor canines aimed straight for my throat. I cringed and turned away, unable to look into those bright yellow eyes, knowing what was coming. When I turned, a glint of slivered moonlight caught a piece of piping nearby; probably meant for the dumpster but somehow landing here.
Again, subconscious reasoning took over and I felt myself reaching for it, my hand closing around the cold steel. With a grunt, I swung out.
I hadn’t expected to actually land the blow or for the crack to be quite so loud. I felt the vibrations from it all the way up my arm but I managed to hold onto the pipe until I felt the wolf’s weight go slack and it crumpled in a heap, half on top of me. I pushed it aside, which wasn’t easy, and scrambled to my feet. After that, I just stood there, staring down at the giant mass of fur and wondering how in the world no one else had noticed what just happened.
As I stared, the wolf’s form began to shake and then shimmer around the edges, going hazy, and then finally – it was the girl again. Her long hair covered her face in stringy waves, matting to her head on the side where the pipe had made contact. Blood seeped slow and steady from the wound to the pavement. Her body was naked and curled together, almost fetal, except for her knee wedged at an unnatural angle. I could see that her eyes were open and staring vacantly but I didn’t linger on that. I couldn’t. My eyes were wide and disbelieving as I gaped at what lay in front of me. I struggled to accept what I was seeing. No way. It was impossible. People couldn’t be … wolves. That was a myth. A way for Hollywood to cash in.
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