Esperance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 3)

by Heather Hildenbrand

I hurried out and followed Brittany to what I’d learned was the outpatient wing on the other side of the building. We passed a few staff members as we navigated the halls, but they didn’t stop us or inquire about our purpose here. Just as I’d first thought, once you were in, you were in.

  Hunter medical facilities were the least secure hospitals I’d ever visited—once you got in the front door. I did wonder how it would’ve played out if I hadn’t walked in with Edie Godfrey herself that first night. Not that I could have found this place without her. From the outside, it looked like an empty office park or one of those warehouses they taught karate from.

  But inside, it was pristine, quiet, and full of hunters that specialized in healing werewolf bites and stitching up claw wounds. Also, the food was free and pretty good so we ended up eating dinner here more often than not.

  Brittany wound around and then took a sharp left into one of the treatment rooms and I followed close on her heels. We both stopped just inside the small room to avoid running into the nurse still finishing up with some sort of ointment she was dabbing onto RJ’s cheek.

  A second later, she set the ointment aside and handed him an ice pack where he sat perched on an exam table with his legs dangling. “Hold this on your eye for twenty minutes,” she said.

  RJ fumbled and took it and pressed it to his head. I craned around her to get a look but too many people were in the way. When she finally moved aside, I caught sight of his face and gasped.

  Purple and red bruising covered the left side of his face, his cheekbone and the skin underneath his eye swollen so that his eye looked sunken in its socket. I was struck silent by the colorful display, a little surprised RJ had let someone get to him like this. I’d seen him in action. He was a freaking ninja, fast and light on his feet. Whoever had hit him must have been moving fast. And werewolves didn’t have fists which only left…

  No. I wasn’t going to consider it.

  Finally, the nurse gathered her supplies, nodded at us, and slipped out.

  “What happened?” Brittany asked, but rather than concern, her tone was pure curiosity.

  Over the past few days, she and RJ had fallen into an easy friendship as they’d started working together, splitting guard duty. In fact, more often than not, they were both still up at night when I crashed. Their heads bent over a schedule or report or briefing as they strategized about their ongoing protection detail: me.

  They got along on a level I didn’t quite understand. Something about both of them being hunters; there was no real worry or concern for personal safety. I, on the other hand, constantly worried that one or both of them would get injured while protecting me—and then I could add them to the list of people and their injuries that I felt responsible for.

  But RJ didn’t seem to mind Brittany’s lack of empathy. In fact, he looked pissed—if his one good eye, narrowed to a slit, was any indication. “Alex,” he said simply and my jaw fell open.

  “Alex did this to you?” I asked in disbelief. I didn’t want to admit I’d considered it already.

  “Are you really that surprised?” he shot back.

  “I… I don’t know,” I fumbled. He was clearly angry and had a right to be. And it wasn’t like we didn’t all know Alex had a short temper, but in the past week, we hadn’t spoken once. I and no idea what was going on with him.

  Sure, he’d walked out on me. But I’d told myself it was an isolated incident. Was he really turning on his friends? A lump formed in my throat as I realized he was doing exactly that. He’d already turned on me.

  “Why?” I asked softly. “I mean, what did you guys fight over?”

  RJ gave me a knowing look that said it all and then glanced quickly away to Brittany. She leaned against the short counter and sink with her arms crossed, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders. I looked back and forth between them, waiting for more but RJ kept his mouth shut.

  “That’s it?” I demanded. “He gave you a black eye and you’re not going to tell me why?”

  “He’s a loose cannon,” RJ said, huffing in disgust. “And he only cares about himself. There’s nothing left to tell.”

  Obviously, that last part was a lie. One that RJ was intent on selling judging by his awkward silence. Fine. If he wouldn’t tell me, I knew someone who would.

  “No, you’re wrong,” I said, my temper finally boiling over and eclipsing the pain and sadness and heartbreak I’d been nursing for the past seven days. “There’s a lot to tell. But you aren’t the one to tell it.”

  I whirled and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” RJ called, the concern in his tone clear.

  “To talk to him,” I snapped, and walked out. Footsteps hurried behind me. Brittany appeared and kept pace with me as I marched down the hall. “Don’t talk me out of this,” I said.

  “I’m not.”

  “And don’t try to stop me.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I looked over and caught her grinning. It was all teeth, almost like a snarl. Over the past week, Brittany and I had made peace with her undercover work watching me this past year. And I’d come to know a very different side of her; Brittany was like a damsel in distress who’d gotten too impatient or bored waiting for her price. Instead, she’d become her own hero. I liked that about her but there were also flashes like these that made me a little scared for anyone who got in her way. “Wouldn’t miss it either,” she added.

  “If Alex thinks he can string me along for months and then drop me and ignore me with no explanation, and on top of that punch my friend in the face with no consequences, he’s got another thing coming,” I said.

  “Damn right.”

  I stopped short of the main doors, eyeing Brittany. “You sound really excited about this.”

  She grinned wider. “Hell yeah, I am. I’ve never seen Queen Bitch Sam in action.” She rubbed her hands together. “All week you’ve been moping around all sad and lonely. And now, you’re finally getting to the pissed-off part of this grief train. I, for one, want front row seats. I have a feeling it’s going to be a show-stopper.”

  I shook my head, half-smiling in spite of my anger. “Come on then. You’re driving,” I said, heading for the exit, and, beyond that, Brittany’s car.

  There was no use arguing. She was right. When I found him, I was going to let him know exactly what I thought of whatever this was he had decided to pull. And no black eye or aching heart was going to stop me.

  I wasn’t afraid of Alex Channing. Brittany was right. I had just enough of the Old Sam back to know the storm I was bringing with me was going to hurt when it hit him. Hopefully, it wouldn’t hurt me too.

  Chapter Five

  Alex

  This deep inside the forest, this late at night, no birds called. No animals moved. The moon had slid behind dark, angry clouds, blotting out the soft light through the canopy of trees. I’d foregone the path the moment I’d rounded the back of the locked store. I wasn’t even sure how I knew to check the woods behind the shops. Or which way to go once I was inside. There’d been no sound or light to guide me. Only the strange and half-nauseous sort of ball in my stomach that grew bigger as I trekked along.

  It was an easy hike compared to the running trail behind my own house. Even in the utter darkness, I had no trouble. It was as if the branches had folded back and the leaves had high-tailed it up into the canopy out of reach. The ground beneath me was damp with overnight dew and made no sound as I walked.

  Up ahead, through the break in the trees, I followed the sight of a crackling fire burning. The closer I got to the fire’s flames, the more certain I became: it wasn’t the late hour that had the forest withdrawing on itself. There was magic here. Heavy, powerful, and dark as the witching hour and the woman who drew it down.

  Indra stood over the flames, swaying her hips side to side in a long, black dress. Her arms were outstretched overhead, reaching for the sky. Her head was tilted back, her eyes closed as she moaned. There were no words to her song; only a haunting so
rt of chant that went on for as long as her breath would allow.

  I stopped and watched her from the shadows, curious, nervous, and disgusted for reasons I couldn’t quite name. I hated that I thought she looked beautiful.

  When she paused to suck in another breath, goose bumps rose on my arms and neck. I was struck with anticipation and the knowledge that she was fully aware of me here. I waited, sure she she’d open her eyes and spot me watching her, but she stayed unmoving, her head thrown back. Her hair had been loosed from the braid she’d worn before, and it cascaded down her back in wild waves.

  Maybe “beautiful” had been too strong. She was attractive. And the way she moved should have been sexy. But there was something about her. Something spoiled about her flawless skin and dainty nose set above a full, perfectly-shaped mouth. Like milk past the expiration date. I didn’t really want to touch it for fear of it curdling in my hands.

  When she began to moan again, the sound that reached my ears was a contradiction all its own. The tone of her voice was warm and sensual, but there was another note to the sounds she made. Something harsh; a darkness that wasn’t just inviting but coaxing. As if she was trying to convince the monsters to show themselves. Or to obey her.

  The fullness of the energy she’d left inside me responded and the nausea in my belly churned. My knuckles ached and I thought of my fight with RJ earlier today. I’d actually punched him and for what? He’d accused me of being on the same level as a feral werewolf, but he’d only spoken the truth. I was being an ass. I knew it; I just couldn’t care enough to stop it.

  And in this moment, with Indra moaning strangely, and the heat of the fire and her dark magic seeping into me, I would do it again. I’d hit anything that moved right now. I stared hard at Indra, frowning, as I tried to imagine using my fists on her.

  But no.

  Whatever was in me had no interest in harming her.

  “You’ve come to understand what’s inside you.”

  I hadn’t even noticed the moaning had stopped. But when I looked up, Indra stood facing me, waiting expectantly. I hesitated only a second, not completely surprised she knew where to look. The shadows were full here; I hadn’t expected her human eyes to see so well. But then, I was less and less sure Indra was actually human.

  “I’m working on it,” I said, finally stepping forward into the flickering light of the fire.

  She smiled but it was short-lived and the shadows that flickered and danced over her expression obscured any indication whether she was pleased to see me out here. She clearly wasn’t surprised.

  Her dress swished as she turned back to the fire. “Come.”

  I had no choice but to join her next to the fire and I stared into it, my attention strangely caught by the dancing of the reds and oranges. A log cracked, sending sparks and wood chips flying. I was hyper aware of Indra standing beside me and the small empty space between our bodies.

  “Do you feel the heat?” she asked.

  “I feel… the fire,” I said carefully. I had a feeling she knew what she was asking and that wording mattered very much right now.

  She didn’t respond and the silence stretched long enough that I began to wonder about this whole thing. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe Indra hadn’t done anything weird to me after all. Maybe this was just a side effect of not dying. I could see that counselor after all. I could—

  “It’s easier, isn’t it?”

  “What is?” I glanced over, trying to understand.

  She gave me that same smile-that-wasn’t-a-smile and cocked her head at me. “Feelings only complicate your intentions. Make it harder to see the big picture. It’s cleaner this way. Easier. Don’t you think?”

  I stared at her, trying to summon shock. It was there—just out of reach along with the rest of my emotions. “I knew it,” I said but the words fell flat. “You did this to me. On purpose. When you healed me.”

  “You are clever,” she said. “I could see that in you when I was healing you. I left as much of it as I could but I had to make room for Ea. You understand.”

  My skin prickled and crawled. I ran my hands over my arms. Who or what was Ea and what the fuck was it doing inside me? One crazy question at a time.

  “What are you?” I asked quietly.

  She stared into the fire and her voice boomed as she answered me. “I am Indra, born of Purusha, the father of the gods. I am the ancient warrior goddess of thunder and rain, slayer of demons.”

  “Is that so?” I eyed her, a brow slanted cockily, and smirked. “Well I guess no one can say you haven’t aged well.”

  It was a dick thing to say, making fun of her proclamation like that, but it was all I knew. A nervous habit. And Indra was definitely making me nervous, spouting off things about gods and demons out here in the dark and writhing forest.

  Her eyes narrowed fractionally and she shot me a dagger-like glare. “I was created in the likeness of Ea, unchanged and untouched by human time. I am here to be his hands. To strike down the aberration that is werewolf.”

  I had absolutely no idea who Ea was. Or what I should possibly say to that. I didn’t completely disagree; feral werewolves were monsters worth stopping. But aberration sounded a little biblical. Or fanatical.

  I did understand that whatever Indra was or thought she was, it wasn’t human. Or of the normal witch variety. It was old magic. In that, Sam wasn’t alone. And Indra seemed much more versed in her gifts than Sam. A fact that I realized now probably didn’t bode well for Sam or all the poor, sick werewolves she wanted to help.

  “Okay, so you took my emotions away on purpose?” I asked, trying to start small and understand what the hell I’d just gotten caught up in. I had a feeling it wasn’t good.

  “I did.”

  “Why? I mean, for what purpose?”

  “You have no purpose,” she said, waving a hand and dismissing me as easily as a fly. “You are a tool. Valuable, at that.” She looked at me more closely now. “Do you like to kill things?”

  “I … don’t mind it,” I said, not even sure what we were talking about anymore. “I have a duty to protect humans and hunters against werewolves,” I added, hoping that clarified a statement that felt so vague it was wrong.

  I’d come a long way in my acceptance of werewolves in the past couple of years. Working with CHAS, everything I’d been through with Tara. All of that had taught me they weren’t all bad or a race to be destroyed. Some of them were decent people.

  But Indra rolled her eyes. I watched as she turned away and bent low to pick up a cup I hadn’t noticed before. It was an oversized wine glass half-filled with dark liquid. She sipped and then sipped again—generously—before setting it aside again and turning to face me.

  She put her hand on my chest and the simple contact even through my sweatshirt made me want to take a giant step back. And then a shower.

  “And Samantha?” she asked surprising me into momentary stillness.

  “What about her?” I snapped. Something about the sound of Sam’s name coming out of Indra’s mouth made me angrier than usual.

  “You didn’t let her heal you,” she said with a note of smugness as she rubbed her palm over my chest. “You didn’t want to bond with her this way?”

  “I… you and I are not bonded,” I said, my lip curling in disgust. I didn’t like the way she’d talked about Sam or insinuated anything about the two of us, but all I could muster was a frown as I stepped out of her reach.

  “Of course we’re bonded. Why do you think you’re here now?”

  “Because I got bored and sick of waiting around for CHAS to reinstate me so I took a walk,” I said.

  She offered me that fake smile again and it grated on me to realize it was meant to be condescending. “I wanted you to come to me,” she said. “How do you think you found me?”

  “I’m a tracker,” I shot back, pissed but for the first time in a week not quite able to work up to a full temper.

  “You are good at what you do,” she sa
id, clearly not concerned about my display or whether I believed her. “As am I. But the infections will not be enough. We must do more.”

  “Infections,” I repeated. “You’re behind that?”

  “I am one of many hands,” she said simply. No grandstanding or bragging or even remorse about her part in killing so many werewolves.

  Now, I did muster surprise. “You’re the reason they are drawn here to Half Moon,” I said, remembering what RJ had said about the energy field. Maybe it wasn’t Sam after all. Maybe it was Indra.

  But she shrugged, her bony shoulder rising and falling. “No, that’s all Sam, but I’m not one to let opportunity pass. The healthy ones come looking for her. They find me. And then I send them back to her again.” She swiveled to the side and put a hand on her hip, her expression contorting as she smiled and lifted a brow. “Don’t we look alike? Don’t you like the resemblance?”

  I shook my head. “You look absolutely nothing like her,” I said, turned off by the way the magic shimmered and moved with her, like a mask not quite able to keep up with the face it was attached to.

  “You can see the magic,” she whispered as if to herself and then smiled, suddenly delighted. “But this is why I chose you.”

  “You didn’t choose me. I showed up half-dead and you wouldn’t let me achieve the other half.”

  “Ea will prevail and the war for balance will be won by those of us willing to sacrifice the weak.” She spoke as if I hadn’t just contradicted her and the gross ball of disgust in my gut only warmed at her words. Part of me wanted a place at her table; the violence she hinted at made my palms tingle. The darkness in me wanted her.

  That was fucking weird.

  Because underneath whatever magical mask she wore, I had a feeling she was literally a haggard pile of bones preserved too long past their expiration date. I wanted no part in it. But judging from the gleam in her eye, she wanted a part of me. A very specific part.

  She leaned forward again, pressing her palm to my chest and running it up and over my shoulder. “I have big plans, Alex Channing. And you’re fitting into them nicely.”