Brazen: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 2)

by Felisha Antonette

  I drag my gaze away from her, turning to the principal’s cherry wood door. Mr. Sanders, the school’s custodian, has yet to correct the decals that spell out the principal’s name from when Sam, Andrew, and Matt pranked him on Monday. It still reads Hippi Handler, Roncall. It lost its funny yesterday. Grabbing the knob in my hand, I breathe before pushing it open.

  I want to shut it back, but Nathan’s holding it open and shoving a gentle nudge in my back for me to continue.

  With his legs crossed and hands resting on his lap, Dad sits across from Principal Hollander. He smiles and greets, “Hey, Ladybug.” The two stand as he continues, “Hello, Nathan. Haven’t seen you in a while.” His chipper greeting doesn’t reflect in his studious glance as he looks Nathan over.

  “Hello, Mr. Warren.”

  In a blink, Dad’s contemplative stare evaporates and a gleeful gaze falls on me.

  “What are you doing here, Dad? I thought you wouldn’t be back until next week.” I look away from him to the principal as I try to get a sense of the situation. Getting nothing from their relaxed shoulders and simple glances that shift between Nathan and me, I ask, “What’s going on?”

  “Some things have come up. We need to move sooner than we’d planned. I came to discuss your options since you graduate in a little over two weeks.”

  Dad has become a non-Nathan fan. He’s adamant about Nathan not being right for me and vice versa. I can quote him verbatim, ‘moving is the better option for you,’ and ‘it’s better you have different experiences and not get hung up on the first real thing that caught your eye, or your heart.’ He’s been back and forth every other week since they promoted him. It was last month, though, when he came back, that he was different.

  I stare at my father, swallowing down the extensive list of cuss words tickling my tongue. Grumbling, I grab Nathan’s arm and pull him with me from the room. Dad stalks after us, and I slam the door in his face.

  Nathan opens the door to the hallway, chuckling as he says, “You shouldn’t do that, Ladybug.”

  “Not funny,” I snip.

  “It’s okay, just her dad. You two can go back to class,” Nathan tells Glen and Scott. “I’ll meet you in the truck after we see what he wants,” he says to Olar.

  I shake my head. “We are not seeing what he wants.”

  “Sparks, you will. He’s your dad.”

  “He’s right, Tracey.” I whip around to Dad crossing his arms.

  Nathan moves from in front of him to my side.

  “Dad, I am not moving,” I relay as nicely as I can.

  “Tracey, I didn’t come here to discuss this with you. I requested they call you down because I was here and wouldn’t leave without at least saying hello.”

  “Hello. And. Goodbye,” I mutter under my breath, averting. Nathan grabs my wrist and nods toward Dad. I roll my eyes, turning back to face Dad and the irrational expression contorting his face.

  “What type of relationship is this that you two have here?” Dad asks, I assume, noticing Nathan’s silent convincing. “He’s better at convincing you to talk to me than I am at asking.”

  “So what?” I snort, shrugging.

  Dad shifts his attention to Nathan, face morphing with anger only an enemy can conjure. I’ve never seen Dad this hostile. “What are you doing to her?” he demands. I flinch at the malevolence in his tone.

  “I’m sorry?” Nathan blurts, taking full offense to Dad’s accusation.

  “What,” Dad emphasizes, “have you done, and what are you doing to my daughter?”

  “Excuse me, sir? I’ve done nothing to your daughter,” Nathan tells him without a hint of the insult I feel he should have lacing his tone. “We’re together. And to answer your question, the type of relationship we have is one that’s lasting. Speaking of. . .” Nathan rubs his hand over his bearded chin, biting down hard on his bottom lip. I watch it lighten from the pressure and then fill with color as he lets it go.

  Dad folds his arms, and with a look of warning, dares Nathan’s challenging stall.

  It doesn’t take much to get Nathan angry, but he’s always remained respectful when dealing with Dad, even with my father’s blatant, unnecessary disrespect. I doubt today’s the day he blows a gasket. Anger defusing, Nathan half-nods, giving Dad the floor.

  “This. . .” Dad points his index finger between Nathan and me. “Is only temporary.”

  “No, sir. I can assure you we are permanent.”

  Dad leers at Nathan, slightly tilting his head to the left. “And how can you be so sure?”

  Nathan pulls his arms behind his back, clasping his hardening hands together. “I just know, sir. It is.” His brow hitches in a single up-down flash. It’s obvious he’s had enough of Dad’s patronizing but doesn’t want to make things worse.

  Dad turns his attention to me. His beige suite brightens his warm brown skin, and as he crosses his arms, the intensity of his deep brown eyes cut me open. “When you get home, you will find your things packed, and we will be moving tomorrow morning. So,” he flicks his gaze to Nathan, “make sure you tell your friends goodbye.” He turns on his heels and walks back into the principal’s office.

  “Argh!” I grumble, throwing my head back. “He’s losing it!” I can’t figure out what is wrong with him. This is nothing like him. Dad’s so much better than this. Nicer than this! He’s usually easygoing and kind. “What has gotten into him?”

  Nathan rubs his hands up and down my arms. “Calm down.”

  I relax with his contact giving me no other choice. “We need to talk to my mom.” I fist Nathan’s shirt and try to pull him with me down the hall, but he doesn’t budge.

  “Um, Sparks.” He pries his now wrinkled shirt from my clutch. “You still have class.”

  “That will have to wait. I need to talk to my mom. She can fix this.”

  dauntingly fooled

  After ten minutes of arguing about me leaving school in the middle of the day, I’m able to convince Nathan to either come with me to Mom’s job or get out of my way. He caves, and we leave to drop Olar off at Nathan’s house, and then drive to Mom’s job in the city.

  “Mom!” I bust into her office like I own the place.

  “Tracey!” she exclaims breathlessly, hand flown to her chest. “What is going on? You scared me.” Her wide gray eyes sober as her fair skin refills with color.

  “Mom, you have to talk to Dad. We cannot move! You can’t want to move. Mom, please!”

  She looks from me to Nathan and gives him a warm smile. “Hello, Nathan,” she greets humbly.

  “Hey, Karen.”

  Nathan and Mom get along so well it’s not only a relief but a pleasantry. The three of us have spent so much time together over the last few months; talking, catching the latest movies, staying in or going out for lunch or dinner. Nathan’s even cooked for her. The time we spend together is nice and comforting. I just wish my Dad would conform to this reality.

  Shifting her gaze, Mom narrows her eyes in a way that relays I’m up to no good. “Tracey, why aren’t you in school?”

  “Mom!” I grumble, sulking across the floor.

  “Tracey!” she mocks my whine.

  “Ugh!” I sigh. “Dad is at my school talking to my principal. He said he was discussing my options because we are moving in the morning!”

  “Tracey, your father isn’t here,” she objects, moving a pack of paper across her desk. “I would have been the first to know if he was.”

  “Mom, yes he is!” I argue. “We just left him. He told me we’re moving tomorrow morning,” I say again, louder and more traumatized.

  “Honey, I just got off the phone with your father; he has been in meetings all day. What are you talking about?”

  I throw my hands up. “Yeah, I know! Meeting with Principal Hollander.”

  Mom leans over her desk, palms firmly planted on the glossy oak wood. Behind her is a large window covered by wood blinds that match her desk. The slits in them allow the bright sun to brea
k through, sending thin beams of light slicing through her office. They dance on her burgundy blouse. “Listen, Tracey,” she drawls as she straightens her spin. “Your father is not in town, and we are not moving tomorrow. We promised we would wait until you graduate. Did you fall asleep during class?” she asks, concerned. Her eyes narrow, causing the gray in them to darken and a question for my sanity to flash in their gaze.

  No, I did not fall asleep in class. In another attempt to tell Mom, again, Dad is here; Nathan grabs my shoulder, stopping me. “Excuse me, but you said you just spoke with him, right?”

  “Yes,” she answers. “Not ten minutes ago. He was complaining about how you’re still ignoring him because of the things he said about—.” She catches herself, realizing she’s bringing Nathan into it.

  I wave my hand. “Don’t be embarrassed, Mom; he already knows.”

  Her eyes widen as our gazes meet, and then they turn sorry when she glances at Nathan. “I’m sorry, Nathan. It’s not that we don’t think you are a good kid, we only want what’s best for Tracey.”

  Nathan offers her a kind smile. “Me too. We’re sorry to barge in on you. We’ll head out. I’ll make sure Tracey gets back to school.”

  “What?” I blurt. “No, we will not. Mom, you—”

  “Sparks,” he cuts me off. “Your mom just said it. Your dad isn’t here.”

  “He’s not, honey. Would you like me to call him for you?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Nathan blows a frustrated breath. I fix him with a piercing glare, relaying my demand for his patience while we figure this out. Ignoring him and his sudden urgency to leave, I watch Mom dial Dad on speaker.

  The line rings twice, then Dad’s singing, “Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

  “Dad?”

  “Hey, Ladybug!” he sings, voice matching that of my father’s.

  I knit my brows, moving closer to the phone. “What are you doing? Where are you?”

  “Closing on this deal in Memphis. We had the best meeting! I think we have the closing deal in the bag, Ladybug!” His enthusiasm and excitement for this deal are present in his upbeat voice. He continues expressing his enjoyment about the benefit of having his partner, Robert, with him and the friendliness of the men he’d met with just under an hour ago.

  Dragging my gaze away from the phone to Mom, I give her a questioning glare. Her brows jump up and then fall, as if to say, see, told you, honey. How can Dad be there and here at the same time? “Uh,” I stutter. “Oh, okay, Dad. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Ladybug. Hold it, young lady. Why aren’t you in school?”

  “Bye, Dad.” I reach across Mom’s desk and press the speaker button to hang up her phone.

  “We need to go, Sparks.” Nathan taps my arm. “Bye, Karen. See you later.”

  “See you two later,” she calls behind us. “I’m cooking lasagna tonight.”

  “What am I missing?” I ask, pulling on my seatbelt.

  Nathan shoves the key in his truck’s ignition but doesn’t start it. “That was not your father at your school.” He pulls out his phone and taps on it before bringing it to his ear. “Go back to the office and see if Tracey’s father is still there.” He listens to Scott say something I can’t make out. “Now! Walk in,” he demands. “Call Olar. Don’t let him leave. I’ll be there shortly. If I’m not back before you can no longer hold him off, handle it.” He drops the phone in the cup holder and peels out of the parking lot. Gripping the steering wheel too tightly, he crushes it under his clutch. Realizing it, he releases his vice grip to just pressing his palms to the wheel’s sides. “If I destroy another vehicle, shit is going to get real,” he snarls through his teeth.

  I let down the window, bringing in some fresh air for him. “Okay?”

  “It’s not your father, Sparks.”

  “So, who is it?” I follow.

  “Not sure yet,” he fires back.

  I sit forward on my seat and slap my leg as I ask, “Well, how do we find out?”

  “We get there and ask,” he shoots back.

  Panicking, I ask, “But what if this imposter leaves before we get there?”

  “Sparks!” Nathan shouts.

  “What?”

  “What is with all the questions?” he barks, hand slapping the steering wheel.

  “Hey!” I shout. “Don’t yell at me. I’m trying to understand what the hell is going on.”

  He shakes his head, blowing an irritated breath through his nose. I slouch on the seat, angry with myself for feeding into his mood and irritated with him for not being able to control it.

  Petty arguing has become a frequent event for us lately. If something in our lives would work out in our favor for once, we’d be calmer, but if it’s not one thing, it’s another; Roehl, Taylor, Dad, my adjusting to this new world, and Nathan’s juggling being himself and being the guy for me. The bond’s changed him. The bond is still changing him.

  Nathan’s this bad ass ‘I only care about myself, but I’m obligated to care about my family’ person. The real him isn’t at all the “relationship” type, but the bond makes him into one, and he struggles with it. I’d give him his space, but that’s quite difficult because of the bonding.

  We take thirty minutes to make it back to my school. Nathan’s phone rings every second. We park in front of the double brown doors in the rear lot. I jump out and rush into the building.

  Olar, Scott, Glen, and my not dad take up the hallway, blocking the office door. At some point, Glen had gotten involved in stalling my imposter father. He’s stayed put, listening to her after graduation plans.

  What’s the plan? I ask Nathan.

  Talk to him, act like you know nothing. Get that eye thing going on where you can see who people really are. See behind the mask. I’ll see it with you and if anything happens, stay calm. I’m right here with you.

  I step to Glen’s side and she stops jabbering to ask, “You okay, Cey?”

  “Yeah.” I gesture with a nod for her to let me handle it. She steps back to Scott, eyes pierced on the imposter.

  An uneasy feeling slinks over me when I meet the eyes that should belong to my father. It starts at my neck and quickly works its way to my fingertips. I scrape my short nails down my arm, wishing it would get his stealthy presence off me. Shifting my gaze to the floor, I mutter, “Sorry about earlier, Dad. That was unnecessary.” My vines want to make an appearance, and I work on keeping them hidden with me having the brilliant idea to wear short sleeves today.

  He grins. “That’s quite alright, Ladybug.” The name sounds forced; it’s not at all comfortable like my real dad’s calling. “Once we get moved, you’ll be better. Everything will work out fine.”

  I straighten my spine and slip my hands into my back pockets. “No, Dad. Everything’s already working out.”

  He steps closer, separating our bodies by only inches instead of feet. Holding my ground, I blink, trying to get the thin film to cover my eyes. It helps me to see if someone’s blocking or disguising themselves. But sometimes I can’t control it, and a defense covers them, cloaking my entire eyes black. The thicker film tints my sight in a way sunglasses would and forces me to see not only who they truly are, but also what their true intentions may be. Though, in reality, the person will be at ease and still. The hallucinations I used to have. . . They’re just like this, and it’s worrying me. This ability makes me feel like I’m literally losing my mind. A freak of the worst kind.

  “Now, Ladybug, we’ll discuss your concerns later.” His tight cheeks lift with his genuine smile. “On the flight out in the morning,” he offers. “I have a few more things I need to bring together tonight.”

  He pivots, and I grab his shoulder. “Dad, wait!”

  Slowly, he veers, meeting my eyes. I blink and his image flashes, exposing a different man before me. It disappears. I blink twice more before it stays.

  Pitch-black eyes bore into mine. They remind me of Justin’s with the
emptiness in their depths. His straight black hair and stained black lips are nothing of any creature I’ve seen. His hand rises, drawing attention to his sharp, black nails as he scuffs his naked chin where Dad’s beard would be. His face is stone smooth and his skin’s a gray to match. The imposter smiles. Sharpened off-white teeth bite into his thin bottom lip. His dreary, black eyes travel me over as his nostrils flare on his pointed nose. Satisfaction eases his tense expression as he inhales. His Mmm is almost inaudible, but with these ears, I hear his pleasure filled groan. Shaking it off, he quips, “What’s going on, Tracey? I have somewhere I need to be. A moment ago, you wanted nothing to do with me and were slamming doors in my face. I’ll be having a talk with your mother about that as well.”

  A nervous fear has captured my words, as the monster speaks with Dad’s voice. Nathan grabs my hand, bringing me back. I clear my throat and mutter, “Umm. Just, sorry.” I force myself to blink, and he’s Dad again.

  He gleams from ear to ear, admiration seeming evident in his voice as he says, “That’s quite alright, Ladybug. See you at home.” He averts, walking toward the rear doors.

  Nathan nods to Olar, and Olar follows the imposter.

  “Hybrid,” Nathan whispers next to my ear. “Wait here. We’ll be right back.”

  Glen and I meet in the middle of the hall, watching Nathan and Scott flank Olar. “They sure look good walking away on business; charged up and all,” Glen admires.

  I turn away from her, looking down the hall at our guys. “Yeah,” I second. “He does,” I add, thinking about the way Nathan’s back would look if his shirt weren’t present. He’s so freaking attractive. It should be illegal to be so enthralled by someone.

  Flesh pounding jabs spike in my hearing. A body slamming against the truck or the school building shortly follows it and then two doors slam. Nathan’s truck speeds off, tires screeching on the pavement.

  Glen and I race for the back doors. Nathan and Scott reenter the school before we make it. They straighten themselves, looking over their clothes. I know that move all too well, searching to ensure there aren’t any bloodstains or proof they’ve just mauled someone. I guess Nathan was at the office. Dressed ‘business casual’ in a gray button-down tucked into creased jeans, he might’ve even had a meeting today.