Predator Girl (A Paranormal Romance)

by Roozenboom, S. B.

“What do you want me to say?” He cocked an eyebrow as he pushed open the front doors. “Copy off mine? I don’t want to take that fall for you, bro, especially when I actually wrote the essay this time.”

  “All of it?” I scrutinized. Peter usually made one of his girlfriends do his homework. He’d flash a smile at some poor geek girl in Theories class and bam! Twenty-four hours later he had a typed paper that passed.

  “Well, most of it.” Peter tucked his hands in his jeans pockets, a sly smile on his lips. “Anyway, new subject. What are you doing tonight?”

  “Tonight?” I hesitated, staring at the hallway. The walls were a terrible shade of yellow, the floor tiles brown and cracked. “Um. I don’t know. Why?”

  “Two words for you.” He hopped in front of me, walking backward as we went by the office windows. Holding up two fingers, he said, “Siren. Lake.”

  I stopped walking. Quickly, I glanced over my shoulder. “Siren Lake?”

  “Yeah, baby.” His smile morphed into a Cheshire cat grin. “Nine-thirty. Leo and Will are in, and Harney and Eli are coming. You’d better be there, too.”

  I swallowed, considering. Siren Lake, labeled as private property, was one of few forbidden territories in Loralin. We knew why, of course. Nestled near the center of the woods, a series of tagged water nymphs occupied its waters. Trespassing humans have drowned there, with no evidence left behind. But the nymphs liked Finders. Peter, the twins, Harney, and I had all stumbled upon the lake earlier in the summer. We were hesitant at first, since we could hear them below the water, but they hadn’t harmed us.

  If anything, they loved us . . . in more explicit ways than I wish to explain.

  Peter shifted his feet, getting impatient. I pursed my lips, debating whether I should listen to the demon on my shoulder taunting me with, “Go, go! You want a pretty girl that isn’t looking for commitment.”

  The saint on my other shoulder whispered warnings. It was always a risk being around an Otherworlder, especially when it could change its mind at any moment and suck you down to your death. We couldn’t bring protective gear with us. Creatures like nymphs see weapons as a threat, and they might drown you just for having a pocket knife. We would have to go in weaponless.

  Ah, hell, you only have one life, right? “Come get me, and we’ll go,” I said.

  Peter cheered. “Yeah, that’s my boy! Supernatural love fest, here we come!”

  Chapter Three

  The moon hovered over the woods, pale and half covered by clouds. The back roads were misty, yet the Elantra zipped along without caution. Sitting near the end of Clearwater was a red and blue mini-mart, dark and deserted, now closed for the evening. Peter pulled into the lot and cut the engine. Echoes of rap music met my ears. We were only a block from Whirlwind, the night club we’d been at last night.

  “Where are the others?” I asked, seeing Peter rapidly texting someone.

  “Parking at the club.” Sliding his phone shut, he tugged the keys out of the ignition. “Hoods up. Let’s go.”

  “Right.” I pulled the hood of my black jacket over my head. We started across the street, keeping an ear out for cars—especially cop cars—as we slid under the pine trees. Using his flashlight, Peter found the dust path. People used to go jogging here, but the trails were closed after the nymphs had been transferred to the lake.

  We met up about halfway down the trail. The moon had just come out of the clouds, highlighting another set of black hoods. Cigarette smoke burned my nostrils. A tiny, orange ember burned between someone’s fingers.

  “Harney, you dumbass, put it out,” Peter scolded. “You’re either going to attract unwanted attention, or light the damn forest on fire.”

  “Jeez, sorry.” Harney huffed, flicking down the stick and grinding the orange ember into the ground with his sneaker.

  Harney was a big dude, a wannabe body builder. If Hunters High had a wrestling team, he’d be on it. I’d never admit it aloud, but Harney was the kind of guy that made me nervous, and it wasn’t just because he could pick me up with one hand. Harney was reckless, as he clearly just demonstrated.

  Beside him, a lanky guy with a ponytail gave a bored sigh. Eli was a hippy—or so we called him. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll: that’s all he lived for. He didn’t even care that he had the Sight, that he was a Finder. Eli was after a good time with the nymphs. He didn’t normally hang with us; at school he barely threw a wave when we met in the halls. I didn’t like him much and tried to pretend he wasn’t there.

  The moon lit the way down the path. I could see the lake glittering through the trees. We were quiet tonight, unlike us. Usually we cracked jokes or innuendos. Maybe I wasn’t the only one feeling unnerved about returning to the lake. What if the nymphs had changed their minds about us?

  The trees thinned. We scaled the metal fence. Peter and Harney took the first steps out onto the pebbly beach. A cool wind rolled off the water, ruffling our hair. It smelled like salt and fish and drowned carnage. PIU must’ve been there recently, delivering dinner to the nymphs. This was good. Hopefully, they’d be less hungry. Maybe. We hung back as Peter scouted it out. Throwing an arm over his head, he gave us the okay.

  I left the bushes, and the others followed. While the boys hovered at the water’s edge, kicking the narrow tides, I slipped off my sneakers and headed out to the dock. The planks squeaked, lurching underfoot. The dock was old. So old, most wouldn’t take the risk and walk on it. Several boards were broken or missing already, but it would hold me up.

  I knew, because it held the nymphs.

  Something slimy soaked through my sock. I shivered, seeing a shiny coat of mermaid gunk on my foot. It was all over the end of the dock, a chemical that sea folk have to block the cold from their skin. It comes off when they’re out of the water for long periods of time; it has a pudding-like consistency. Oval scales in all shades of green and blue were strewn across the planks. Like snakes, mermaids shed their tails at least once a year, except that it doesn’t come off in one clean sheet. It comes off in pieces.

  The activity in the water intensified. Bubbles came shooting to the surface. Something green splashed out in the lake’s middle. They had heard us. Shadows appeared, forming a black stream toward the guys who sat near the tides. Now they cracked their jokes and made innuendos.

  I stiffened. A gentle breath hit my neck, heat rolling toward me from another body. Slowly, I tilted my head.

  She had left the water silently, just like last time. Fins traded for somewhat human feet, she stood before me with a smile on her pale blue face, white locks curling to her thighs. “Jared,” she purred.

  “Nilydra,” I greeted casually, but didn’t feel so calm.

  “I wondered if you’d come back.” She eyed my jacket. Her fingernails, yellow and broken, tugged on the zipper. “It’s been weeks. We thought you might be too afraid to return.”

  “What do I have to be afraid of?” It was a stupid question, even for a Finder. You should never test an Otherworlder. They don’t like arrogance, especially the predatory kind. They take it as a challenge. Any sign of pigheadedness may literally cost you an arm and leg.

  But Nilydra laughed. It was an odd noise, sort of like a dolphin’s. “Ah, yes, great Finder. What do you have to be afraid of indeed.” She worked loose my jacket, going in for the button-up flannel I had underneath.

  My skin twitched all over, but I didn’t stop her. She pressed her slick, chilly body up against my front. “You have everything to fear,” she whispered against my lips. “A man whose body loves what his soul does not tends to be shallow like the tide.” She kissed me. She tasted like salt water. “Every tide gets swept out to sea. Many among its coils don’t survive.”

  “Mm,” was all I said. Hoping to shut her up about how shallow I was, I pressed my lips against hers. Hard.

  She sighed, damp f
ingers crawling up my shirt, scratching my skin. My tongue touched her upper lip, hitting something sharp. I broke out in goose bumps, remembering the nymph’s razor-like teeth, similar to a nightling’s. Breaking away from the kiss—damn, the last thing I needed was to get bit tonight—I let her kiss my throat.

  That’s when I heard it. Crunching leaves. Hard steps, even and rhythmic.

  I tensed. Nilydra didn’t notice. Honing in on the sound, I picked up on the breathing. It had a feminine tone to it, and the smell: pine with dead leaves. Fur. Blood.

  She was back! The untagged girl from the club was near!

  “Um.” Gently, I pushed away from the nymph. She stared, one brow raised, hunger in her eyes. “I’ve, uh . . .” Crap, I needed an excuse. “I . . . got to pee. I’ll be right back.”

  She rolled her eyes, bouncing up and down. “Hurry up!”

  “Be back.” Ignoring the slime on my socks, I slid my feet into my sneakers.

  Her footsteps echoed in the woods, somewhere, I was guessing, about fifty feet in. She was moving relatively slow. Compared to last night, I’d almost say she was taking her time. Perfect.

  Nilydra’s eyes hammered me worse than Kristin’s as I left the dock. It was hard not to go bolting off and find the source of the scent before the girl disappeared. Just before I hit the woods, I pondered: was it smart to go alone? A glance over my shoulder said that alone it would be.

  Peter was down to half dressed, his face glued to a black-haired siren with webbed fingers. Harney was being caressed by a threesome of nymphs with glowing skin. Eli and the twins . . . well, I won’t go into detail.

  I followed the path, trying to run without making noise. It was hard, especially since the moon was half-covered again. Several times my feet went off the trail, cracking twigs or crunching foliage. I tripped twice, unable to see anything. Finally I made it to the top of a hill. Her smell clogged my nose. I knelt near a group of bushes, in the shadow of an old oak tree.

  There, sauntering through a patch of moonlight below, I saw her.

  Chapter Four—Ilume

  It wasn’t the sound of sneakers in the woods that told me I was being followed; it was his scent.

  I had been deep in thought, taking the woods like a leisurely stroll through the park. Well, technically the woods are my park. They always have been. I had been relieved when I showed up here in this small town—what was it called, Loralin?—and saw forests surrounding it. They were narrow and pathetic, not like my home in Canada’s great outdoors, but better than nothing.

  I stopped just outside a stretch of moonlight between two ivy-covered pines. My nose twitched, drawing in the scent of skin and testosterone. There was something damp and salty, too. Sea nymph? That explains it, I scoffed. Nymphs always draw in young men. Only I didn’t smell any open flesh, which always accompanies the odor of those who’ve had an encounter. Seaborne fey have a carnivorous diet, an ever-present appetite. It was incredibly rare for them to let prey slip by unharmed.

  Maybe he wasn’t a human.

  A growl rumbled in my chest. Oh, great. The thought of some creature nearby, watching me, sent a chill up my spine. Now was not the time to burst out of my dress and turn into a wad of fur and fangs. I already had one unpleasant task on hand: I still had to meet Thagen. Plus, you shouldn’t show up clothes-less at a club unless you’re for sale—or at least that’s what Mom said. I didn’t really get what that meant.

  Maybe he’ll go away. I started walking again, testing the theory.

  He was a quiet mover. His feet rarely made contact with noisy debris, always staying on or close to the trail above the gully, always in alignment with me. I tried to keep calm. He seemed to be keeping his distance. For the moment.

  The trees began to thin. I could just make out club lights in the distance when another scent caught my nose. I stopped, inhaling deeply. Cologne. No, wait—laundry detergent. Air freshener.

  There went my guesses as to what he was. Fey and elves were the abnormals of these woods, far as I knew. My follower was neither, because he smelled of toxic chemicals. Chemicals only humans can stand.

  This was too weird.

  Picking up the pace, I speed-walked to the edge of the woods. Dark fur poked out of my spine, brushing the inside of my dress. Although I preferred not to get into a fight, I was ready for one. I was always ready for one. Just in case.

  He didn’t attack. I made it out of the woods untouched, flats now tapping along the pavement of Whirlwind’s parking lot. My fur receded. Whew.

  Lights flashed across the club’s sign. The building was an old, pink blob off the main road, its trim painted metallic silver. Not something you’d expect to find this far out of town. It was like an ancient Vegas casino had been abducted by aliens and spit out in the middle of nowhere. It was more than just a little tacky—not the kind of place I pictured meeting Thagen at all.

  I smoothed my dress down, taking a deep breath. Easy, Ilume. I tried to think of calm ocean waves, of a warm napping spot in the sun, of hunting in the woods. Oh, how I didn’t want to be here.

  A young, bald kid stamped wrists at the door. I approached casually, joining the line of darkly-dressed teens. A boy with black hair and an ugly, silver ball in his lip kept looking at me. His buddy, this zit-faced kid with a Mohawk, smiled. I tried to ignore them. Boys. Whether human or not, they always stared. Girls, like the skinny-minis that were holding hands with the pair, tended to sneer. Stupid girls, I thought. They should be happy, grateful for what they have—freedom, their lives in their own hands. Instead they stand here obsessing over the fact that their boyfriends—who they probably won’t be with a year from now—are eyeing the pretty girl who’s not interested.

  “Whoa, whoa, where you think you’re going?” Baldy grinned, holding an arm out as I tried to enter without a stamp. “Everybody’s got to pay the entry fee, babe. Five bucks or no stamp.”

  We’ll see about that. “I’m here to see Thagen,” I replied.

  Baldy’s grin dissolved. He had a nice tan going on, or at least he did until I said that. The color drained right out of his cheeks. He withdrew his arm. “Back corner. By the bar,” he whispered.

  I nodded, not bothering to give a thank you. Thank you was too nice a thing to say to someone who might just have given me directions to hell.

  Neon lights spun from the ceiling, shooting stars and odd shapes around the dance floor. Band members stood onstage, thrashing about like newly-caught salmon, while screaming unintelligible lyrics into their mikes. I pawed my ears as I went past. And I thought coyotes made weird noises.

  Whirlwind’s crowd intrigued me. I’d seen a few movies concerning clubs and their attendees, always with a lot of skin showing, high heels, and dark makeup. Apparently this crowd didn’t follow tradition. Girls ran around in fluffy skirts, wearing big glasses without lenses. They had curly wigs and mismatched socks, fishnets with shorts, and bras over tank tops. The boys wore torn jeans, caps with the bills bent or broken, and ugly faux gems in their ears.

  My stomach twisted as I picked up on Thagen’s scent. Rusty. Doggish with hints of fresh rabbit and deer, his favorite meals. Here we go. I squared my shoulders, keeping my chin lifted. No fear.

  He sat alone, just outside the bar. The lights had burnt out in the back corner, creating the perfect dark hole for him to lounge in. He was just as I remembered: wild, dust-colored hair brushing his shoulders, eyes dark and brooding. Jagged scars decorated his left cheek, some trailing into the collar of his t-shirt.

  Two large animals lay at his feet. To mortal eyes, they were Great Danes with some off coloring, but not to me. I could see through the illusion that Thagen had put on them—probably a spell from a local witch. They were his bodyguards, two of his many wolves.

  “Ilume,” he greeted without looking at me. His eyes were elsewhere, on a pair of scan
tily-dressed girls at the bar.

  “Thagen.” I took a seat across from him on a torn, leather sofa.

  An uncomfortable silence passed between us. Thagen whipped out a cigarette from his jeans pocket, ignoring the no-smoking sign nailed behind the bar. The bartender smelled the smoke just seconds after Thagen lit up. He gave Thagen the evil eye, but didn’t come over and comment or motion for him to put it out. I didn’t blame him. It took guts to deal with someone like Thagen.

  After exhaling a puff of grey smoke, he said, “I know why you’re here.”

  I swallowed. “Do you?”

  “Rex has a lot of nerve, sending you alone. Did you run or travel by human?”

  I hesitated. By human, he meant did I come by some form of mortal transportation, like train or plane. “I bought a train ticket in the nearest town.”

  Thagen chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re too gutsy for your own good, Lume. Being so close to all those humans by yourself. It’s dangerous. I’m surprised that Rex let you go without protection.”

  I growled at him. “I don’t need protection.” Rex knew I wasn’t some pretty show mutt. Letting me travel by train had been his idea. Being among the humans was actually a smart move. The enemy avoided crowds of mortals more than we did, and I had yet to cross them in this town.

  A gleam passed through Thagen’s eyes. “But you need numbers, don’t you?”

  I sighed. Now to the core of the conversation. “Thagen, we need the pack to reunite. With your wolves and ours together again, we could easily stand up against the Jackals—”

  “Ilume, let me put it this way for you,” he interrupted. He straightened out of his slouch, voice low as he leaned toward me. “Canada is home to some of the most dangerous abnormals known to Earth. The faeries’ Winter Court takes up a third of the woods alone. The Jackals’ territory is thin but surrounds quite a bit of yours. I told you that Rex was keeping you Rooks in a death zone—”