Dark Roses: Eight Paranormal Romance Novels

by P. T. Michelle

  Nara,

  I’m sorry I upset you. The look on your face…it was what I was worried I’d see when I told you the truth about me. I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I would never do anything to hurt you or scare you. I’m sorry. I don’t want to lose you. Please talk to me.

  Ethan

  I read Ethan’s note several more times that day, and as I lay in bed that night, uncertainty twinged and tears threatened. Was I wrong about him? Had I somehow twisted his comments and actions to coincide with the odd happenings that had been bombarding me since I’d first called in the bomb threat? I wanted to believe in him, but doubts and too many coincidences plagued me.

  ***

  I managed to avoid Ethan the entire next day, but by the time the day was over and I was heading home after practice, I knew one absolute truth—I was completely and utterly miserable. I wasn’t miserable because I’d failed a pop quiz or because someone had tried to pull another prank on me. I wasn’t miserable because I’d performed horribly at soccer practice or because I was sure to burn dinner tonight—okay, none of the other stuff had happened, and there was a fifty-fifty chance I would burn dinner now that my dreams were gone. Bleh. Like mother, like daughter. At least my odds were better.

  I was miserable, because I missed Ethan.

  Desperately.

  I missed our conversations and the way we connected on many subjects. I missed the closeness I felt to him, like we were in our own intimate world. The last thing I wanted to do was go home to an empty house and wallow in my misery.

  I’d just turned down my street, when my cell phone trilled. I quickly answered it, thinking it might be Ethan. “Hello?”

  “Inara, my secretary just put through a call from Westminster.” Mom sounded tense. My heart pounded and I slowed my car as I neared our house. I was afraid to ask, but I had to. “What’s wrong with Gran?”

  “She’s missing. They called to find out if I knew where she might go.”

  Turning into the driveway, I started to push the garage door button, when I saw my bone-thin grand aunt squatting near our bushes in her black “fancy coat” (or so she’d call it). Wearing a look of deep concentration, she dumped a trowel-full of soil into a bucket beside her, then swirled the soil with her fingers. Relieved she was safe, I cut the engine. “Um, she’s at our house. Digging.”

  “Thank God.” Mom heaved a sigh. “Did you say, ‘digging’?”

  “Yeah, with a trowel.”

  “That’s random. Does she look okay?”

  “She looks fine, but she hasn’t noticed I’m here yet.”

  “I’m glad she’s okay. I’ll call Westminster and tell them—”

  “That I’ll drop her off tomorrow morning before school,” I insisted. Gran never left the retirement home. She was here for a reason. Not to mention, if she stayed, Mom couldn’t avoid visiting with her. Win-win.

  “I meant to tell you I have a dinner meeting. It’ll be after ten before I get home,” Mom said. “Think you’ll be okay with Gran by yourself?”

  How convenient, Mom. “Yeah, we’re good. I’d better go stop Gran before she digs up our bushes.”

  I walked up our sidewalk and when I shifted my soccer bag and backpack to my other shoulder, Gran finally noticed me. “Hi, Inara.”

  “Hey, Gran. What are you doing?”

  “You know all this already,” she said matter-of-factly, going back to her digging.

  I hadn’t told her I’d lost my dreams to Ethan. “Remind me. Sometimes I’m fuzzy on the details.”

  She held up a handful of dirt full of squirming earthworms. “Clara says I need real worms in my plants.” Dropping the dirt and worms into her bucket, she gave a grunt of satisfaction. “I’m gonna prove her wrong. Plants like sugar just as much as the rest of us. It’s ’cause I don’t get morning sunlight on my side of the building. That’s what’s killing my plants.”

  I glanced at the bucket, half-full with dirt and worms. “Westminster doesn’t have dirt?”

  Gran gave me an “are you nuts?” look. “Of course, they do!” Snapping a lid sporting air holes onto the bucket, she slowly stood, then brushed the dirt off her gnarled hands. “I was just biding my time until you got home. It’s not like I have a key, you know.”

  “Why’d you come for a visit?”

  Pulling a wad of used bingo sheets from her coat pocket, Gran’s green eyes sparkled with mischief. “I need your help.”

  ***

  “I’m not going to help you cheat, Gran.” I stood in the kitchen after my shower, watching her scuttle around, looking behind canisters and opening cabinets.

  Yanking open the fridge, she leaned across the door, then pointed to the ten bingo sheets I’d spread out on the island. “It’s not cheating. I won all those games.” Huffing her frustration, she continued as she scanned the inside of the fridge, “Clara just called out bingo before I did.”

  “Gran…”

  Holding up a bottle of soda, she said, “Here’s the first part. Now where’s the rum.” An image of Gran, in her pink cardigan, crisp white shirt, khaki pants and orthopedic shoes, swilling back alcoholic drinks just didn’t compute. Also, Mom would kill me if I let Gran get drunk. “Mom doesn’t drink. Now, back to your problem…”

  “She doesn’t drink?” Gray eyebrows shot up. “Ever? What kind of a daughter did my sister raise?”

  I grabbed up the sheets and waved them. “Gran, Bingo? The reason you’re here?”

  Setting the 2-liter on the island, Gran started to speak when the doorbell rang.

  Since when did my house suddenly become Grand Central? Sighing, I walked over to the front door and opened it.

  “Hey, Nara,” Lainey said, holding a small bucket of…ice?

  I was so surprised to see her, I simply said, “Um, hi. What’s up?”

  “I thought we could use some girl time.” Shoving the bucket of ice into my hands, Lainey stepped inside, the latest chic cologne clinging to her zip-up sweater and skinny jeans. Noticing my Gran standing in the kitchen, she smiled and waved. “Hi, I’m Lainey, Nara’s best friend.”

  Oh, really? You remembered? “This is my Gran,” I said, gesturing to Gran as I walked into the kitchen. Though I was curious what made Lainey show up here—with a bucket of ice, of all things—I was more concerned with getting rid of the bingo cards. The last thing I wanted was for Gran to start talking about them again and accidentally reveal my secret to Lainey.

  Setting the bucket of ice down, I quickly gathered up the cards and shoved them in a drawer in the island. “What kind of ‘girl time’ did you have in mind?”

  “Did you bring any rum?” Gran asked Lainey, her gaze glued to the ice bucket.

  Lainey laughed, holding up something silver. “No, but I brought a needle.”

  My eyes widened when I realized what the ice and needle were for. “Oh no. No way!” I said backing up, hands raised.

  Lainey was already shaking her head as she pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol from her purse. “You chickened out getting your ears pierced three different times at the mall, Nara. Now, it’ll just be you, me, ice and a needle.”

  She planned to stick a needle in my ear lobe? And that I’d let her do it? “Thanks for the thought, Lainey, but—”

  “I’ve always wanted to have pierced ears,” Gran said, wistfully.

  I shot her a “you’re not helping” look.

  “Stop being such a wuss, Nara.” Lainey’s disapproving expression brightened. “I even brought stainless steel earrings. I picked out a pair of 5 mm balls for you, since they go with everything. Those ears of yours will be pierced in no time.”

  I shook my head in fast jerks.

  “Come on, Nara. It’ll be a great bonding experience,” she begged, which made me wonder again, what had made her want to rekindle our friendship.

  “I don’t see why you’re putting up such a fuss, Nara,” Gran said in a no-nonsense tone. “You already know if you get it done or not—”

  “Okaaaa
aaaay, I’ll do it,” I said loudly. I really didn’t need Gran spilling the beans to Lainey.

  “Yay!” Lainey did a little hop, then grabbed her purse and “instruments of torture” and made a bee-line for the hall bathroom.

  Gran tottered after Lainey, saying excitedly, “I want to do an ear.”

  “Grab some paper towels.” Lainey called from the hallway right before Gran disappeared into the bathroom behind her.

  I started to reach for the roll, when I heard her finish, “They soak up the blood better than tissue.”

  “I can’t believe I agreed to this craziness,” I muttered, whisking the roll off the holder.

  When I was six, I fell out of a tree and broke my left arm. In ninth grade, I sprained my right ankle playing soccer (even knowing ahead of time, it’s hard to avoid an injury and remain focused on the game.). I saw stars both times. Truly. So when I say the idea of Lainey and Gran wearing maniacal grins and wielding ice and needles scared me far more than those two past experiences ever did, I’m not kidding.

  My left ear, actually the entire left side of my face, from my cheek to my ear, was numb from the ice Lainey had applied for a good fifteen minutes. Still, my insides jerked as she closed in with that needle. At the last second, I pulled back. “Are you sure I won’t feel it?”

  Lainey rolled her eyes, then held the needle away and reached past my cheek with her free hand. “Did you feel that?”

  “No, what’d you do?”

  “I pinched your earlobe as hard as I could. You’re ready,” she said, coming at me with the needle again.

  Grabbing her wrist, I glanced up at her. “This is a true test of friendship. I wouldn’t trust just anyone to poke a hole in my head.”

  A faint smile tilted her lips, then she frowned in concentration. “Now be quiet and hold still.”

  I closed my eyes and held my breath as I felt a slight prick.

  Her warm fingers brushed against my cold cheek and five seconds later, she announced, “All done.”

  “Really?” I swiveled on the wooden stool and glanced at my left ear in the mirror. It was red from the ice, but now a stainless steel ball the size of a BB decorated my earlobe (thankfully in the center). “I didn’t feel a thing.”

  “Told you.” Lainey looked proud.

  As I held ice on my right earlobe, I was surprised Gran had been so quiet. Maybe she’d decided to just watch.

  “My turn,” Gran said, elbowing Lainey aside.

  Grabbing up the needle, Gran turned to dip it in the alcohol we’d poured into the lid, but the needle dropped in the lid instead. She tried to fish it out, but the needle spun around like a confused compass. “Come here, you little pissant,” she mumbled, digging her fingers into the alcohol.

  My gaze jerked to Lainey, pleading, Help me, please.

  She lifted her hands helplessly and mouthed, “What can I do?”

  “Got it!” Gran bent toward me, her gnarled fingers clasping the needle at a strange angle. When her hand began to shake as she drew near and the needle between her fingers shifted even more, I panicked and blurted, “I just remembered where we have some rum.”

  Gran immediately straightened, a marionette yanked upright by rum’s sweet lure. The needle slipped from her fingers. “Where?” she asked with bright eyes.

  I watched the needle roll down the sink and right into the drain with an inward sigh of relief. “It’s in the pantry, behind the big jug of vinegar.”

  Gran was already heading out of the bathroom, calling behind her, “Why would Elizabeth keep it there?”

  “Rum cake,” I automatically answered (well, Mom tried at least).

  Lainey’s hand was over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, she snickered in a low tone, “You just contributed to the delinquency of a…major.” Then let out another peal of muffled laughter.

  “I didn’t want to end up with a nose piercing,” I said in a low voice. “There’s less than three shots left. She can’t get drunk from that.”

  Sobering, Lainey rubbed her eyes to smooth her smudged eyeliner. “What’s her fixation with rum, anyway?”

  “The retirement home doesn’t allow alcohol.” Glancing at Lainey’s purse, I asked, “Do you have another needle?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then sterilize it and let’s get my other ear done before she comes back.”

  Several minutes later, while Lainey was putting the second earring in my ear, I asked, “Why’d you decide to come over?”

  Lainey looked at me, then twisted the earring in its new hole. Stepping back to admire her work, she said, “It was my way of saying, ‘I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about Jared’. We’d been having some random arguments, and I was feeling insecure when you called that day. As for the paint ball thing…” she paused and grimaced.

  “I know you didn’t agree with it,” I said quietly.

  Her brown gaze met mine, full of sincerity. “I didn’t know they were going to do that. Guys prank each other all the time, but to prank a girl? I was pissed at Jared and told him to apologize to you.”

  Yeah, I remembered his half-hearted apology. “No harm done.” I smiled to let her know we really were good. Touching my new earrings, I met her gaze in the mirror. “Thanks. I can’t say the experience was totally stress free,” I paused and jerked my head toward the kitchen, “but it’ll be nice to wear small hoops when I want.”

  “Now you can wear pretty earrings when you dress up, like you did the other day.” She bumped shoulders with me and smiled. “Though, I think that Ethan guy likes you just the way you are.”

  Her comment brought all my worries about Ethan back to the front of my mind. I’d been able to keep them at bay with Gran and Lainey as distractions. Before I could tell her Ethan and I weren’t spending time together anymore, Lainey tugged on my arm.

  “Let’s go show your Gran your new studs and see if she’s smashed yet.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I’m a cheap date,” Gran giggled in my ear, then hiccupped.

  Now she tells me. The scent of alcohol mixed with peppermint toothpaste tickled my nose while I helped her into our guest bedroom bed. “You just need to get some sleep, Gran. You’ll feel better in the morning. I wasn’t sure which would be worse: for Mom to think I drank the alcohol or for her to discover her aunt had gone to bed at eight because she had. My optimistic side hoped Mom wouldn’t notice the rum was gone. After three failed attempts, I didn’t think she’d try to make rum cake again.

  Gran rolled to face me as I pulled the covers over her. “Come see me tomorrow at four-forty.”

  My gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Why exactly at four-forty?”

  “So you can help me with bingo. If I end up with a winning card tomorrow, you can tell me two seconds before the last bingo number is called. That way, I can stamp and call bingo at the same time.”

  “Gran,” I sighed.

  She grasped my hand, her face flushed with frustration. “It’s the only way I can beat Clara.”

  “That’s what all this is about? Not winning the bingo prize, but beating Clara?”

  “She only beats me by mere seconds, but she always rubs it in my face. It’s so humiliating, this growing older and slower.”

  My heart ached for Gran. I touched her fluffy hair, then cupped her cheek. “I won’t help you cheat, Gran, but I think I have an idea how I can help you.”

  Relief flitted across her lined face. “Thanks, Inara.” Her eyes glistened with tears and she brushed them away. “Margaret always said alcohol made me weepy.”

  Her fingers tightened on my hand. “You’re a lot like my little sister, Inara. I wish you could’ve known your grandmother.”

  Me too. Gran rarely brought up her sister…as if she missed her too much to talk about her. Guess Mom and Gran were more alike than they realized. “What was my grandmother like?”

  “Pretty with strawberry blond hair. She was tall like you, but her eyes were blue.” Gra
n sighed and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “Margaret had a big heart, but she also trusted her instincts. She could pick a bad apple off the vine in two seconds flat.”

  I smiled at the imagery of a cluster of apples growing on a vine.

  Gran’s green eyes shifted back to me, looking sleepy. “When she felt strongly about something or someone, Margaret never folded on her convictions. You’re like that too.”

  “Thanks, Gran. Get some sleep and I’ll take you back to Westminster in the morning.”

  Later that night, as I lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, all I could think about was Ethan. How much I missed his tender touch. Hot tears streaked down my temples into my hair. It reminded me of the time he’d wiped my tears away, comforting me while his concerned gaze searched my face.

  Was I wrong about him? Had I messed up everything?

  I clenched my fists, hating all the doubts I had. Whenever I tried to recall a sweet memory between us, another event I couldn’t explain would pop into my mind, obliterating it. I hated that most of all.

  Then something Gran said about her sister rolled through my mind: When she felt strongly about something or someone, she never folded on her convictions. You’re like that, too. I did feel strongly about Ethan, and I really wanted to believe my first instincts about him had been right. But how?

  I wracked my brain for a while, then sat up in bed when an idea came to me. Every time I’d received a warning not to interfere—the cold heaviness, the radio message, the foggy mirror and jammed bathroom door, even the message across the phone line at home—Ethan hadn’t been present.

  I wouldn’t get my dreams back for a couple of days, but if he were with me the next time I used my powers to help someone, and he didn’t try to intervene, then I’d believe him.