The Hunted

by C.J. Hart

  I had to change it twice because it bled through. And so I didn’t scare away customers. “I know.”

  He eyes the jagged edges of skin and the red core of tissue below. “Needs stitches.” Vanishing down the hall, he returns seconds later with his bag.

  “Marcus said the same thing.”

  This seems to prompt a lightening of his features. “Oh? Spend a lot of time with him?” He jabs my thumb with a syringe.

  “Just school and when he miraculously appears out of nowhere.” Akin to a stalker.

  He checks for leftover glass. “He’s a good kid.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Too bad he’s involved with what’s-her-name.”

  “Tori.” It sounds as if he’s hoping we’d get together. I do not want my dad setting me up with anyone. I swivel my head away as he patches me up, not wanting the image of a needle piercing my skin to haunt me.

  “You haven’t seen anything…” Dad pauses. “Strange, have you? Out of the ordinary?”

  A wolf with green eyes? “Like what?”

  He shrugs. “Someone hanging around? Anything suspicious?”

  I could tell by the way he said someone that he really wants to say something. And that he’s making this up to see if I know anything. “Nope. Why?”

  “I thought I saw someone hanging around outside last night. Just want you to be safe.”

  My stomach churns, a byproduct of the tugging of my skin and the fear of him knowing too much about my wolf. He knows! “Well, if I do see anything out of the ordinary, I’ll let you know.” By some fluke, my voice doesn’t fluctuate.

  “Okay.” He releases my hand. “There we go. All better.”

  “Thanks.”

  His brow scrunches, features and posture as tense as ever. “Dinner’s still a while off. Why don’t you go lay down?”

  “Doctor’s orders?”

  He nods, stern. There’s something else. Something I’m missing. Bad day at work or…?

  At the last second, I realize he looks more haggard than usual. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Cass, please go.” He’s about to lose whatever control he thinks he has on his emotions.

  I wander off to my bedroom, dazed. Maybe I will take a nap, forget the crappy day.

  But as I enter my bedroom, lit only by a sliver of moon, I feel too alert to sleep. This place is too creepy at night, too many shadows. I flick on my lamp, then grab my bag, and locate my sketchbook and pencils. Clenching my eyes shut, I try to relax, to see what floats into my mind.

  The red-eyed pack member skates through my thoughts. I shake my head to rid it of the image. No way am I drawing him. Next, I see him and Seb fighting, claws clashing, tufts of fur flying, a blood bath.

  Giving up, I toss the pad. It slides off the comforter and slips to the floor. I sink into my pillows.

  A tapping to my left jolts me. I see a figure outside my window. My first thought is that it’s one of the skinwalkers coming to tear me to pieces, and that Dad wasn’t talking about Seb. The accompanying thought is that it’s probably the red-eyed one. But the figure waves and there’s a flash of white teeth and glowing, spearmint eyes. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief and skip over to him.

  Seb

  I scale the maple tree outside of her window, its leaves a pretty coral pink. A lamp by her bed illuminates her, an angel killing time by doing homework. The branch below my feet creaks, ready to snap. I lunge at her Juliet-style balcony, my feet landing lightly on the redwood.

  Cass pitches her notebook. It glides off the edge of her bed and collapses on the floorboards. She cusses and sinks further into her pillows.

  I tap a knuckle on the glass. Her head snaps up. I wave and point at the lock firmly in place on the sill. She dances over, flips the bolt, and hefts the window open.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Whatcha doin’ here?” she whispers.

  “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Nothing unusual, but tonight is different somehow. “Is your dad home?”

  “Yeah, that’s why we’re whispering, Sherlock. Why?”

  She’s so cute when she’s snarky. “Would he mind if I came in?”

  “Absolutely.” She steps aside. “But what he doesn’t know…”

  “Won’t kill him?” My grin widens. “It might, y’know.” I slip into her room. “Window balcony, huh?”

  “Yeah, I think the architect was on an acid trip when he or she designed this house. A few oddities.”

  Something crashes downstairs. I arch an eyebrow at her.

  “It’s Mom and his wedding anniversary,” she says. “Every year, he’s fairly pissed. Smashes things.” She’s quiet for a beat, two. “I try to not hear it, but…” Her eyes glisten. A tear rolls over her flushed cheek. “I can’t pretend anymore.” More droplets spring free. Drip off her chin.

  I meander over to the bed and pat the spot next to me. “C’mere.”

  Instead, she lies facing away from me. “Let’s talk about something else.” A sniffle.

  I curl up behind her and hear her sigh. She turns over, into my arms. I pull her close, tucking her head under my chin.

  “Where’re you staying now?” she says.

  “Liam Adler’s house.”

  A small smile twists her lips. “Liam?”

  “Yeah. He works with me at Roadrunner Records.” I pause. “He’s not another guy that has a crush on you, right?”

  She scowls. “No. Jealous?”

  I want her for myself. “Nope.”

  “Sure.”

  Another crash, and then another. She flinches and presses her ear to my chest, covering the other with a hand. I place one hand on top of hers. The other rubs circles into her back.

  She sobs. “I fucking hate this.”

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” I say, reaching down to press my lips to her forehead.

  The house grows quiet. Too quiet for my liking.

  Cass lifts her eyes to mine. “How’d you know to come at that exact moment?”

  I shrug. “Instinct, I guess. I felt like you needed me.”

  She stares at my lips. I brush them across her nose. She giggles, and I lean closer. There’s a heart-stopping moment where I see if she protests. She doesn’t. I touch my lips to hers. She returns the kiss and presses herself against me. My fingers dig into her back, weave into her hair. A moment of bliss. An eternity of wonder and fulfillment. Her lips are so soft. I want them on mine forever. Already, she’s made my year. How pathetic is that?

  Then another smash reverberates through the house. She twitches. I hold her to my chest again.

  “You want me to stay?” I say.

  She nods. “That’d be nice.”

  I comb my fingers through her hair. “It’ll be okay.”

  Her dad shouts up the stairs, “Cassie, dinner!”

  She quivers.

  “You don’t have to go down. Tell him you’re not hungry.”

  She shakes her head. “That’ll only make him angrier tonight.” She disconnects from me and stands.

  “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  She reaches over to kiss me, and then smiles. “I’ll try to sneak some food for you.”

  “Cassandra Louise!”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  She swivels and scurries to the door.

  I spend the next twenty minutes listening to them shout at each other—about her mother, him, her, and surprisingly, about the cupcakes she’d made yesterday and how delicious they are. There is a lot of anger in this house tonight. And I hope to God—or whoever is watching—that I haven’t endangered her by being around. Because she’s the best thing that’s happened to me.

  Five minutes later, Cass sneaks in with a tray. “He went to his office,” she says, setting the tray on the mattress.

  I study her features for any sign of distress. I can’t find any, so I say, “Are you okay?”

  She nods, solemn, and pushes a dish towards me. “Go on. Try the lamb stew.” She slid
es up next to me.

  I crack a smile. “You’re not tryin’ to poison me, are you?” But I pick up the spoon anyway.

  She flashes a grin, teasing. “Why would I do that?”

  “So you can get rid of me and grab another Yee Naaldlooshii?”

  I meant it as a joke, but she freezes, her face draining of color. It takes me a second to realize that one of them must’ve cornered her.

  I drop my spoon into the bowl. “Which one?” I say, exasperated.

  Her eyes widen. “Pardon?”

  “Someone from the pack has made contact with you, correct?”

  She mumbles, “Correct.”

  “Who was it? I’ll kill them with my bare hands.”

  She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Cassie, it does. They’re after me. And now they’re after you, too. Who. Was. It?”

  She lowers her eyes. “I don’t know his name. But he called the café today.”

  “While I was there?” I reach for her hand. “That sonofabitch.” It had to be Ash. Who else would do it?

  “It was just a threat.” She swipes at the frosting on a cupcake.

  “No, Cass. It’s a death sentence.”

  The following evening, it’s my turn to cook. I choose pasta because I know Seb’ll be here any minute, and I’d much rather be hanging out with him. And the sooner dinner is over, the sooner I can excuse myself to do ‘homework’.

  I wonder if he’s here already, waiting, and I strain my ears, listening for a scuffle of shoes or creaks that he probably doesn’t make. I hear Dad flick through TV channels and settle on a game. Can’t he watch something else for once? I dump a handful of spaghetti into the pot of boiling water and inspect the jar of pasta sauce. How long has this been open? A week? Two? With no visible signs of bacteria, I dump the contents into a bowl and zap it in the microwave.

  Dad’s voice floats in, “Cass?”

  “Yep?”

  “Come here for a sec?”

  I give the noodles a quick stir before skipping into the living room. “Something up, Dad?”

  “Just wondering if you’re still going to the movies with Eve on Friday.”

  “That’s the plan,” I say. “Why?”

  He shrugs.

  “Don’t tell me you’re gonna have a party without me!”

  His lips curl upwards. “I might, who knows?”

  My eyebrows hike towards my hairline. Since when has he been the partying type?

  “Kidding. But I might have the guys around. We haven’t had a poker night in a while.”

  “Sounds good.” I jog back into the kitchen to check on dinner. Not boiling over, not overcooked. All is well. Should I see if Seb’s here? No. I shake my head to temporarily rid it of thoughts of him. I’ll forget about dinner and probably burn the house down.

  When the pasta is cooked, I drain it, spooning sauce and cheese over the top. Good enough. I wander back into the living room and hand him a bowl.

  “Sit,” he says. “What do you wanna watch?”

  I chew on my lip. I’d been planning to eat in my room. But now I feel like I should stay.

  He nods towards the other end of the couch. “Come on.”

  The landline shrills. Saved by the phone.

  Dad picks up the handset. “Hello?” He listens for a moment, and then looks at me. “It’s Liam.” He hands me the cordless.

  My brow melds. Why’s he calling me? We’re barely friends—acquaintances—nowadays. I take it into my room. Sure enough, Seb’s leaning against the window.

  I return his smile, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Cass, is Seb there?” Liam says.

  I place my dinner on the side table. “Ah, sure. Just a sec.”

  Seb crosses the room in three strides.

  “It’s Liam. He wants to talk to you.”

  He takes the phone. “Yeah?” He listens for a long moment, turning away from me. “When did this happen?”

  I see him pinch the bridge of his nose.

  His hand balls. “Okay, thanks. Yeah, I’ll be here. Tell her to call Cass’ cell if she rings again.” He rattles off my cell number before hanging up, flinging the handset onto my bed.

  I wait for him to speak. A minute passes. Two. “Seb?” I secure an arm around his waist.

  “I left my cell at the house. Mom called it. Dad’s furious.”

  “At who?” I try to spread out his fingers.

  “Everyone. Me. The elders. The pack.” His eyes swerve to mine. “You.”

  “Little old me? What did I do to piss him off?”

  “Because I defied him, the pack, and risked everything to save you.” He pulls me to his chest. “He’s convinced I wouldn’t be running for my life if it weren’t for you.”

  He’s probably right. “And what do you think?”

  “It was foreseeable; they’d grown tired of my increasing humanity.” His arms tighten. “You might’ve ignited the fuse, honeybee, but that bomb’s been ticking for a while.” He sniffs at the air. “You bring dinner again?”

  “That’s mine,” I say, “but if you’re hungry, you can take a bite outta me.”

  He catches my wrist, lifts it to his height, and trails the tip of his nose over my veins. “Tempting.” He smiles, eyes hungry. “But you’re safe. I already ate. Mrs. Adler made lasagna.”

  I perch on the edge of my bed, twisting a forkful of spaghetti.

  He sits next to me. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Yep?”

  “I have tickets to Muse, and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”

  “Like, a date?” I mumble through a mouthful.

  He nods. “I was gonna take Kat, but—”

  “Won’t he be kinda disappointed?” Wouldn’t want him to alienate his last friend.

  “He’ll get over it. So?”

  A date! I’ve had a boyfriend before, but things seem different with Seb. He’s more mature and reliable. And so incredibly handsome. “Sure. Sounds awesome.”

  “Great. Can’t wait.”

  Me neither.

  I finish the last bits of dinner as Seb kicks off his shoes and slides onto the bed.

  “What’re you doing?” I say, cautious as he kneels behind me.

  “Never you mind.” He combs his fingers through my hair, separating it into three segments.

  I check him out in the mirror by my bed. He’s weaving clumps together. “Wow, you’re good at this,” I say. No stray strands. Neat and precise as he interlaces the sections. “Should I be worried?”

  He chuckles. “I used to braid Mom’s hair before ceremonies.” The corners of his lips jerk into a scowl, and then back into a half smile. “Dad’s hopeless at this sorta stuff.”

  He misses her, like I miss mine.

  I sigh. “Mom used to braid my hair.”

  “Yeah? Where is she, anyway?”

  “She died a long time ago.” I swipe at the moisture in my eyes.

  “Oh.” His hands keep moving, merging strands. “Elastic?”

  I hand him one. “Do you miss home?”

  He fastens the band, and then hugs me, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Home is wherever you are.”

  I place my hands on top of his. “I second that.”

  I take her hand as we stroll down East Adams Street. “Thought we’d go to dinner first. Is that okay?”

  “I’m starved.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I steer her towards Bagels of Glory.

  She gasps. “Bagels!”

  “I did good?”

  Stretching on her toes, she touches her lips to mine. “It’s perfect.” She giggles and peers through the window.

  I pull her back for another kiss.

  “Hey, no fair,” she says, half-hearted.

  “Kisses are better when stolen.” I hold open the door for her. “Now, you choose what you want, no holding back.”

  Her eyes glaze over as she takes in everything in the display c
ases. “Wow.”

  “Hi.” The cashier grins. “Can I help you?”

  “We’re gonna need a minute,” I say.

  “Too many choices,” Cass says.

  I chuckle. “Maybe two minutes.”

  We decide on two flavors each and choose a table by the window.

  “Where does your dad think you are?” I say.

  “At home, curled up with The Darkest Minds.”

  “Not out with the enemy?” I smirk.

  She scowls. “Stop thinking of yourself as a monster.”

  “Or what?” I kiss her knuckles, restraining a smirk.

  “Or—” She picks up her bagel, swipes her finger through the jam and cream cheese, then sticks it in her mouth. “—you’ll have to walk around with jam on your face.” She giggles.

  “I can think of worse tortures.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I reckon you’d look pretty silly with strawberry seeds stuck on you.” She moves the bread closer towards my nose—an empty threat, we both know.

  I smile and lunge, ripping a bite off with my teeth.

  “Hey!” She pouts. “No fair.”

  “You can have some of my chocolate one.”

  She leans over and takes a bite. “Yum. I should’ve gotten chocolate.”

  “I’ll get you one to go.” I swipe at a smudge of cream cheese on her upper lip.

  She blushes. My hand lingers, skimming over her flushed cheek. Her lips jerk into a smile. I let my hand drop to the table, close to hers.

  I catch her sneaking a peek at her watch. “Expecting another date soon or…?”

  She bursts out laughing. “If I was, I’d cancel.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  She trails her fingers over the back of my hand. “’Cause this is more perfect than I could ever imagine.” Her eyes meet mine.

  “It’s the bagels, isn’t it, that tipped the scale?”

  She shakes her head. “They’re just the cherry on top. The real prize is…” She hesitates. “You.”

  “I’m the sweet goodness?” I beam. “Well, I could say the same about you.”

  Her cheeks flush beetroot-red again. Maybe no one’s adored her like I do. Or told her how beautiful she is, even under florescent lights. And, just maybe she’s not used to taking compliments.

  But I love her anyway.

  “Nearly time for the concert,” she says, showing me her watch.

  “Well, we’d better get eating, then.” I stuff the remaining half into my mouth.

  She snickers, leaning over to kiss the chocolate off my lips.

  “Hey, no fair!” I mock.