“I’m looking for Jenkins,” I said, shouting loudly enough to be heard over the pounding metal music.
“Right behind you, half-breed.”
I whirled around to find the tall blond wolf standing only a couple of feet away from me, smiling. There was satisfaction in his grin—like he’d either known I’d eventually show up, or he was elated that I had.
“So you are.”
Silence. Staring.
“Welcome to the gym,” he said, indicating the space. “You here to hit some pads? The heavy bag? …Maybe me?”
“Though I like your thinking, that’s not what I’m here for. Where can we talk?” I asked, looking back at the room full of gawking males. “Somewhere private, maybe?”
He jerked his chin toward the door I’d just come through, and I made my way toward it. I could hear the muttered comments from the others in the room, but they only made me laugh. Jenkins was far from about to get laid.
An icy breeze shot down the alley when I exited the building. I pulled my jacket tighter, shoving my hands in my pockets.
“You’re literally the worst werewolf ever,” he said after the exterior door banged shut. He stood before me in sweat-soaked gym clothes and bare feet, utterly unfazed by the cold. Though I wasn’t surprised, it still unnerved me how hot blooded the wolves were. Even in human skin, they could withstand the elements far better than the rest.
“That’s because I’m only half werewolf. Remember?”
He feigned realization. “Ah, yes…hence my clever nickname.”
“Exactly.”
“Well then, half-breed, should we move on to why you’ve come?”
“I think you have a pretty good idea why I’m here, Jenkins.”
“Word of my sexual prowess has finally made it to your virgin ears and you’d like to see if it’s rumor or fact?”
It was hard not to laugh at that moment. Humility was not his strong suit.
“I’m less interested in your bedroom moves and more curious about what went down last night.”
His expression faltered. “I already told the PC what I know. What I saw.”
“And they’re satisfied?”
“Obviously not, if they sent you here.”
Jenkins was aware of my connection to the PC—that I was one of them. And though I’d never directly stated how, he knew the rumors of my mother—the baddest werewolf in existence—being bonded to my father. He seemed to put two and two together. I never bothered to confirm or deny.
“Maybe they don’t know I came. Maybe I want to hear your version for myself.”
“Or maybe you’re still holding a grudge about the whole Sinful thing and want to rub my nose in just how wrong I was about that.”
I shrugged. “I mean, I’m not going to turn down the chance.”
He sighed heavily, raking his fingers through his tousled blond hair. He tugged on it for good measure before letting go.
“I was wrong about you, and I’m sorry. I thought you were somehow involved,” he said, regret permeating the air between us, “and by the time I was willing to entertain the possibility that maybe you weren’t, the whole thing was coming to a head.”
“Did you follow me that night? To the auction?”
He shook his head. “I made Dennis tell me. When I saw you tear out of there, I forced the truth out of him.” His eyes narrowed for a moment as something dawned on him. “Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe he sent me there to get myself killed along with the rest of them. The PC is known to sometimes shoot first and ask questions later in the heat of battle.”
I couldn’t argue his point, so I didn’t bother trying. “Dennis was a psycho and he’s dead now.”
“Thanks to you.” There was a twinkle in his blue eyes as he said those words. He’d apparently put that together too.
“He fucked with a friend of mine. I don’t like it when people mess with those close to me.”
A wide smile took over his expression. His energy beamed with understanding.
“Me either.” We stared at each other until it grew awkward, and I broke my gaze to look down the alleyway. “So,” Jenkins started, bringing my attention back to him, “can I interest you in coming inside to go a few rounds with me?” I quirked my brow at the double entendre. He laughed; the sound was joyful and warm as it rang out through the alley. “Just sparring. Clothes on. I promise.”
A healthy way to let off some steam? Sounded exactly like what I needed.
“I hope your heavy bags are well reinforced.”
He smiled over his shoulder at me as he opened the door, no doubt biting back some juvenile retort about just how heavy his bags were.
“Don’t worry. You won’t break them.”
He stepped back into the building while I hovered by the door.
Perhaps I should vaporize it while he holds it…let him know who’s boss.
“Not yet,” I said to Nyx under my breath. “We’ll save those party tricks for later.”
He led the way back inside and I shrugged off my jacket, throwing it down next to the door. Jenkins held out gloves for me, but I waved them off. It was a bare-knuckle kind of morning.
I slammed my fists repeatedly into the bag, the bite of the pain reviving me with every punch. My frustrations from the previous night poured out in a flurry of hits, each harder than the last. My knuckles bled, dripping on the mat at my feet, but I didn’t care. It felt amazing.
“Easy there, tiger. You’re going to break something.”
“I’ll heal,” I bit out between punches.
“Yeah. That’s true. That’s one of the perks of being like us. Quick healing…at least physically.”
I stopped long enough to look at him standing behind the heavy bag, staring back at me. There was understanding in his eyes. Empathy radiated off of him, and it made my skin crawl.
I went back to burying my fists in the bag that separated us.
“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.
“With you? Not really.”
“Because you’re not a talker or because you don’t trust me?”
“Both,” I replied without skipping a beat.
He leaned into the bag while I continued to whale on it.
“Fair enough. I don’t suppose our first encounters did much to inspire confidence in me.”
“I think that’s pretty accurate.”
Before I could land a brutal right cross, Jenkins shot out from behind the bag and caught my fist with his hand. Instead of keeping it or squeezing it harder to get my attention—which is what I expected—he guided it gently down to my side and let it go.
“Then let me fix that.”
“Jenkins, I just want—”
“Do you know why I reacted to you the way I did when you showed up in town?”
“Yeah. You said you didn’t trust me—you thought I was involved in the shit at Sinful.”
“True, but not the point. Why would I care about what they were doing there? It didn’t involve me.”
I pondered his question for a second, my hands flexing at my sides, still wanting to hit the bag he was blocking.
“Because you’re a nosy motherfucker?”
“I’m a lone wolf in a city with two of the largest packs in the country—in the world, for that matter. Packs that aren’t notoriously friendly with one another. I live right in between their two territories.”
“So you’re a crazy nosy motherfucker?”
“True again, but still not the point.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, wiping away his rising frustration. I seemed to have that effect on him; on many people, for that matter. “Your instincts are strong enough to know that I’m an alpha, right?” I nodded. “I may have opted out of being in a pack—or running one—but I can’t opt out of my hard-wired need to lead. To protect those around me.” His eyes drifted above me, looking at the gym door, imagining the city beyond. “This neighborhood—this small divide between the Northside and Southside packs—this is my family. My
territory. I say what goes here. I keep it safe—protected—for both humans and supernaturals alike.”
His pale blue eyes fell on mine, and I felt the weight of the responsibility he felt for his hood. His people. It was one that I understood well.
“And you thought I was a threat to them.”
He nodded once, a slow vertical slide of his head. “I know what the burden of guilt is like when you let those you want to protect down. That’s what landed me here. I don’t ever want to feel that again.”
“Me either,” I whispered, the words escaping before I could lock them away.
“Then maybe we have more in common than our good looks and love of punching shit.”
His boyish smile forced me to grin in return.
“And our wolf DNA. Can’t forget that,” I said.
He scoffed before returning to his position behind the bag. “I’m starting to wonder if you have any at all, half-breed.” His smile widened. “You hit like a girl.”
Oh, did I plan to make him regret saying that.
Chapter Five
I swung my arm in a cautious circle as I walked back up the alley toward the main road. I knew whatever had been damaged during our sparring would heal momentarily, but the sharp stabbing pain I felt every time my hand reached high above my head reminded me what it was like to be human—just like I had been in Iowa. Though I was thankful for that time, because I’d found some sense of humanity buried deep down within me, it had come at a hefty price. Pain was part of it. It made me wonder why in God’s name guys like Jenkins and the rest of the fight club would ever want to brawl without their abilities.
Torn rotator cuffs didn’t feel so great.
At least my mission had been successful—maybe more successful than I’d planned. From what I could tell, Jenkins was on the relative up and up. He seemed to be more neutral than anything, which made sense given his lone wolf status. I thought he just wanted to live and let live. I could get down with that motto. At minimum, he didn’t seem to be a threat, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. No, we were far from that after all that had gone down between us.
Time and proximity allegedly healed that kind of history, and thanks to Jenkins, I was going to find out. I’d walked out of the gym with more than a sore shoulder; I had a job offer to tend bar at his bar, The Joint. At first I’d scoffed at the idea, but then I’d thought better of it. In our training session, I’d learned that it was a hub for supernaturals, a place where they talked freely among themselves. I could be a great source of information for the PC if I got the inside scoop while serving up booze. Loose lips sunk ships, and I could keep those lips plied with alcohol all night—or at least until I learned what I wanted to know. It was kind of perfect, especially if the goal was to keep my identity as under wraps as possible. Jenkins may have known that I was PC, but he wasn’t dumb enough to share that with anyone else. He’d be first on their shit list if I was outed, and Jenkins had seen firsthand what the boys did to beings that crossed them.
TS would be proud of all I’d accomplished in that encounter.
By the time I reached the bus stop, the sharp pain in my shoulder had dulled to little more than a background irritation. I knew it’d be gone for good in another minute. I sat down on the bench and waited for my public transport to come. I didn’t need to take it to keep my cover any longer, but there was something about it I enjoyed, inexplicable though that was. It smelled like hell and was far from convenient, but it still had its charms. Kinda like me.
I people-watched while I waited, letting my eyes take in the pace of the city. It was interesting to be invisible to the passers-by. I liked how it felt. They had no idea that I was staring at them—scrutinizing them as they walked by. And I doubted they would have cared if they did.
As I looked through the gaps in traffic to the other side of the road, I saw a figure pass. A tall dark-haired figure with strong cheekbones and a square jaw. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he threw a hood up over his head to shroud him in black. Everything about how he moved was familiar. His confident, purposeful gait was unmistakable.
Gabe…
Without thinking, I shot up off the bench and started to run across the street, dodging the traffic. I moved with a speed and agility that was clearly inhuman, but anyone that saw me would just slam on the brakes and try to make sense of what they’d just seen, an advantage of humans not knowing about us. I slowed my pace once my feet hit the sidewalk, but I was still moving fast. I had no intention of letting Gabe get away. We had a few things to sort out, not the least of which was how I was going to help him. As I ran, I remembered that I didn’t really have a plan for that, but I pursued him anyway. I needed to see him. I needed to know if anything had changed.
I needed to know that he still could.
Once I caught up to him, I slowed to a walk, weaving through the crowded sidewalk. His hoodie-clad head bobbed up and down above the rest, making it easy for me to hang back and formulate some kind of plan—even if it was a terrible one. He turned down a side street, and I followed a few paces behind him. With every step I took, I wondered if he could feel me pursuing him, if he knew that I was there. If he had somehow been twisted into my nemesis, would he be aware of my presence without seeing me?
That question made me dig deep into my empath abilities. I tried to reach out and sense whether I could feel him feeling me, but I came up short. I felt nothing from him: nothing at all. Something about that was wrong to me. I should have at least felt something.
When he turned again, this time down an alley between towering buildings, I stopped to let him get deeper into the narrow space before I made a move. Sprinting on light feet, I closed the distance between us and grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around so his back slammed against the brick wall. My eyes shot to his, Nyx poised to take over if need be, but the second I took in those beautiful sea-blue irises, I knew I’d made a mistake.
“I’m so sorry!” I said, letting go.
“Crazy bitch,” he replied, pushing me away from him.
“I thought you were someone else.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” he said, pulling his sweatshirt up to expose the butt of a gun. It would have scared a normal person—a human—but I just looked at him, totally unfazed by his little weapon. When I didn’t move, he grunted a laugh and drew the gun, leveling it at me. “You must be fucking crazy.”
In a flash, I disarmed him and pointed his weapon back at him. That seemed to get his attention, given the amount of white I could see in his eyes.
“You have a permit for concealed carry? Is this weapon even registered?” He said nothing in response. “Then I think I’ll be keeping it.” I started to walk away from him, but the scuff of his boots against the dirt of the alley alerted me to his move. I turned to find him lunging for me. With a quick sidestep and a raised knee, I dropped him flat on his back, stunning him. “I don’t like being called crazy,” I said as I hovered above him, watching him struggle back to consciousness. “And I’ll be keeping this all the same.”
I turned on my heel and walked back down the alley toward the bus stop, dropping the gun into a trashcan along the way. The bus would be there soon, and I didn’t want to miss it. I had one more stop to make before I went home for the day. One that was much easier with TS out of town.
I had to see a troll about the dead.
Chapter Six
I was starting to feel like I should call ahead or something when I went to see Damascus because every time I arrived unannounced, I was greeted by his hulking silhouette seething on his makeshift porch. For someone with premonitions, he always seemed surprised (and extremely pissed off) to see me. Maybe his normal vision sucked?
“It’s just me, big guy!” I shouted across the vast lot. “I came to see if your offer still stands. If you’ll train me to use my gifts—without a price.”
“You know the price. Death does too,” he replied, using his pet name for Nyx. “Nobody is to know about our intera
ctions.”
“Fine by me. I hate explaining myself to people.”
I strode across the dirt lot until I reached the bottom of the rickety porch steps. He stood above me, staring down, his eyes taking on their inhuman yellow shade.
“Something is different.”
I looked down at myself. “I got a new leather jacket…”
“Your aura is tainted—by guilt.”
Oh. That.
“What can I say, I wear the weight of the world on my shoulders.”
“And you deflect the truth with humor.”
“That too.”
His harsh expression tightened.
“It is a poor attempt to cover what you feel.”
“And yet it seems to work on basically everyone around me.”
His nose turned up slightly at my words. “They are blind.”
The weight of his final word halted my tongue. I was fully equipped with a smart retort, but I swallowed it back. There was something in the way he said ‘blind’ that shot straight through me. Something emanating from him that made my blood run cold.
“People see what they want to see. What’s easier for them to see.”
“And you?” he asked, pinning those glowing yellow eyes on me.
I took a deep breath. “I see everything. Feel everything…”
“And Death? What does Death feel?”
Good question. And one I didn’t feel like delving into at that moment.
“She feels nothing.” I beg to differ. “She doesn’t allow herself to feel.”
“As is her job.”
“So,” I said, starting to crumble under his stare, “about that seeing dead people thing…do you still plan to teach me to control it?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I must.”
“Must?”
“Your place is not to question, daughter of the PC. Your job is to be quiet and learn. Can you do that?” he asked. I nodded. “Good. Then come inside. There is no time to waste.”
Two hours later, I walked out of the troll’s home feeling frustrated and wondering if the benefits of working with him were worth the risks. TS had made it very clear what he would do if he found out I’d had contact with Damascus ever again. He hadn’t bothered to really explain why, though, and that little seed of doubt was enough to keep me going—especially when he wasn’t around to find out my secret. But as I walked away from the old wooden building that the troll resided in, I couldn’t help but contemplate the ramifications of my actions if TS ever did find out. He’d leave and never come back. I’d never see him again.
Dead Zone Page 3