by Dalia Wright
“Wow,” Luelle said. “That was surprisingly easy.”
“Yeah, well. I'm more concerned about the fact that they're attacking a town that can be a tourist hot spot. Do you know how to use a gun?”
Luelle shook her head. “No. But I can fight as a werewolf.”
“No. You can't go outside. You're a prime target. Distance shooting though, that's not an issue.” Evo was breathing hard and fast, panic and adrenaline mixing in his skin. “Think they're all invading here or it's a small group?”
“They won't split. Not in these parts.” Luelle waved at Evo to follow her, and they dashed out together, alerting everyone in the hotel unaware of the action that shit was going down. Big time.
However, Luelle didn't spot Arina anywhere. She wondered if Arina had disappeared, but then caught the faint odor of dead, exposed flesh and hesitated. Evo caught it as well. His nose twitched, and he shot an alarmed glare at Luelle.
Wordlessly, they vaulted up to the top floor of the hotel, into the room where Ricten Spirova sat imprisoned.
Inside the chamvers, Arina stood over Ricten Spirova's corpse. She smiled at them, drenched in blood, her mouth twisted demoniacally.
“Arina...” Evo growled at the human, blue eyes glinting with feral anger. “We might have needed him.”
“I don't care.” She bared her teeth. “He had to die.”
“You shouldn't have gone into the room,” Luelle said. “He would have taunted you. Goaded you.”
Arina stood proud, straight, supremely confident and defiant in her decision to kill the werewolf. “He killed my family. He killed my father. He ripped out my little brother's intestines in front of me and ate them. My brother was screaming the whole time. He didn't care. He liked it. He loved inflicting that kind of agony.” Arina's voice cracked. Salty tears created washed, light pink trails over her cheeks.
Luelle and Evo stood silent. Neither of them could disagree with her decision. Neither wanted to fault her. They all shared the bonds of sisters and brothers.
She took one last glance at the gutted corpse of Ricten Spirova. Arina had yanked out his intestines, in a grotesque parody of what had happened to her brother. Thankfully, she hadn't tried chewing on them.
“Come on,” Evo muttered. “Clean up fast. And help us with the invading werewolves.”
Arina took a sharp, ragged breath, then nodded. She wiped her nose. “Okay.”
It saddened Luelle, and cut at the emotions inside to see her friend reduced to this vengeful husk, burnt out by her desire for revenge. To see Arina capable of such an act shattered the innocent picture Luelle preserved in her mind, of the smiling little human girl who played with her friends at the lakes so long ago.
She explained this to Evo as they joined the defenses, along with two older werewolves who had healed up and knew how to handle guns.
“Her innocence was destroyed the moment she saw Ricten cleave through her family,” Evo pointed out.” He caressed Luelle's hand as they paced through the hotel, checking every room with a clear, window view of the streets. The top floor held expansive views of the surrounding hills and mountains, but the ground below was obscured with the tops of building, making it bad visibility to shoot. They did, however, hear the screams, the roars, and dark shapes blur, wrecking cars, traffic, and inciting panic.
The human police are going to be all over this. If they're not killed already. Who knows if our contacts in the media, government and Mafia will be able to shrug this off.
They retreated to the second floor, picking a window with the view of a nearby swimming pool, and two roads. A werewolf blurred past, but Luelle recognized the scent as a Gregorovitch, and stayed Evo's hand.
“That's an ally.”
Evo inhaled, taking in the distinctive odor of the Gregorovitch. “Thanks. I've only really scented the Spirovas. And, of course, Armanev,” he said, with a tiny grin.
“Of course,” Luelle smirked. She leaned her head on Evo's shoulder. “Evo.”
“Yes?” He accepted the embrace, but kept alert for any dangers. Two more Gregorovitches dashed past and sighted the two of them at the window.
One pointed vigorously behind him, and Evo slid his eyes to see four werewolves chasing their allies.
Gunshots popped out from a side window – Frey, sniping them down as they stormed past. Evo did the same.
Werewolves are so stubborn, not using guns, thinking they can't be injured by them. Like we haven't devised a way to stuff vanadium into our weapons. Luelle watched in amusement as both the Gregorovitches howled their thanks and continued on, hunting down the invaders. Apparently, Elinor wasn't slacking. She'd been acting on Ricten's information.
“Yes?” Evo said, picking up from Luelle's attempt at conversation.
Luelle kissed him on the ear, not wanting to restrict his shooting capabilities. “I want you to come with me.”
Evo allowed his attention to flick to her. His eyes softened. “Of course I will.”
“You will?” Luelle's stomach churned in giddy frenzy. The weight upon her heart, burdened by doubts and worries, temporarily evaporated.
Evo smiled at her excitement. “How often do we find the opportunity to stay with the ones we love? All because we keep thinking we don't deserve it, or because something bad will happen.” He locked gazes with her for a moment, and she felt her breath being stolen away. “'Sides. I think my sister might be having a change of heart. Something to do with your brother and the little parasite in her body.”
Luelle nodded, unable to wipe the happiness off her face. Screw her parents. Screw the people who had tried to imprison her and force her to be something she was not.
Screw the old ones who slaughtered innocents like Arina's family, and forced them into dark places.
She kissed Evo on the lips, cupping his cheeks with her palms. “It's official. We're together.”
Evo inclined his head slightly. “I'm okay with this arrangement. I might possibly love you as well.”
“Possibly?”
The smile turned mischievous. He wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her close. “Okay, beautiful one who I might love. Time to pop some baddies.”
Luelle stared up towards the sun as it approached midday, hiding behind wisps of cloud. Wrapped in his arms, she firmly believed they would make it.
True love, after all, never died.
The End
The Preacher’s Daughter’s Secret
By: Elaine Young
CHAPTER ONE:
Jake Owenson was crossing across Central Park on his way home when he saw Rosalie Mitchell standing in the corner of Fifth and 86th happily munching away on a hotdog. He did a double take and skidded to a stop.
Was it? He asked himself. Could it be? He couldn’t believe his eyes and had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining things; after all, it had been more than six years since he had last laid eyes on the then twelve-year-old girl. He remembered a round, chubby face that always seemed to be smiling, mischief-filled blue eyes, and two thick golden, blond braids hanging over her shoulders. And before him stood a young woman on the cusp of womanhood. She was beautiful with her blond hair flowing in loose waves down her back, with a long, flowery dress that accentuated her shapely and graceful figure. He couldn’t be sure it was her, but he took a stab at it anyways.
“Rosalie?”
The slender girl turned at the sound of her name and searched the faces nearby to locate the voice. Her eyes skimmed over him – they were still the blue he remembered, but she obviously hadn’t recognized him. He took a few steps in her direction and called out to her again.
“Rosalie, it’s me, Jake.”
Her eyes snapped back towards him and recognition dawned on her face. She did a little two-step of excitement and clasped her hands together in delight.
“Jake! Jake Owenson! How long has it been!”
“Long enough that you didn’t recognize me!” he teased.
“How could I when you’ve
grown up so much! You are positively handsome now,” she teased him right back, thinking of the lanky, awkward boy of six years ago. There was definitely nothing awkward about him now. The boyish features had filled out into a handsome face and the lanky frame looked solid and athletic. His floppy brown hair was groomed into a close cut which accentuated the straight nose and the strong jaw. Even his walk was different, she noted – it was cool and confidant.
He blushed a little at the compliment, thinking how very grown up she had become. The girl he remembered had been rebellious and outspoken; some things had obviously remained unchanged.
“What are you doing in the city?”
“Enjoying some freedom! I’m here for Rumspringa,” she explained.
“Oh,” Jake said, a dark cloud briefly shadowed on his face as he recalled his Rumspringa and his subsequent banishment from the community when he had decided he didn’t want to commit to the Amish faith.
“Did you come with a lot of people?”
“Nope, just on my own. But father doesn’t know that. He thinks Janice Greely, Isabelle Hendrix and I came together. Which we did, but we’re all doing our thing, and I haven’t seen them since getting here.”
“Still being rebellious, huh.”
“You know me,” she said lightly.
“So are you enjoying your trip so far?”
“I’m loving the trip! I think I might be falling in love with New York,” she gushed.
“That’s how I felt when I came here. And I never looked back.”
“Well I can see how that would happen.” She looked at her watch and looked at him. “Anyways, I won’t keep you much longer, I’m sure you were headed somewhere….”
Jake was about to say that yes, he was on his way to a meeting, when he experienced an odd stirring within him. Gazing straight into her clear blue, sparkling eyes, he realized the emotion he was experiencing was attraction. And not just a passing attraction or appreciation for a good-looking woman, but a very physical longing to stay in her company, a reluctance to not let her go just yet. He realized he felt intrigued by her and wanted to spend more time with her. In fact, he wanted to ask her out, which wouldn’t be smart at all because she wasn’t a girl to trifled with, and he couldn’t offer her anything more because he was no longer a part of her world. Telling himself he must be logical, he prepared himself to say goodbye and to tell her it had been lovely seeing her, but he found himself asking her if she had any plans for the evening instead. As she happily told him her evening was wide open, he told himself it was just one dinner – how much harm could it really do?
CHAPTER TWO:
He was on top of her. Kissing every inch of her body. Well familiar with the touch of his skillful hands, Rosalie closed her eyes, anticipating his next move, aching to be consumed by his love. But just as things started to heat up her stomach rolled over and a wave of nausea startled Rosalie out of her sleep and broke through her dream. Her eyes snapped open and she realized with a whoosh of intense disappointment that it had all been nothing but a dream. She sat up straight and waited for the nausea to subside, but it didn’t and had her running for the bathroom. Once she was done she washed her face with cold water and buried her face in the towel waiting for the queasy feeling in her stomach to subside.
This was the fifth night in a row she was waking up nauseous and sick. She could only conclude that she was so lovesick it was having a physical effect on her. Memories of the time she had spent with Jake in New York were crowding into her dreams now; she thought of him all day and all night…couldn’t help it…would she ever be free of him? It wasn’t very likely given everything that had transpired between them from the moment they had run into each other a few months ago. As she stepped out in to the hallway, the door across from her bedroom opened and Amanda’s concerned face peeked out.
“Rosalie?” Her sister’s voice was groggy from sleep. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” Rosalie assured her, “Go back to sleep.”
Amanda stifled a yawn and nodded.
“Okay – if you’re sure.”
Rosalie made her way back into bed and muffled her groans of frustration into her pillow. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? From the moment she had run into him by Central Park, her entire trip had quickly become centered around him. After that first dinner together they had become virtually inseparable. Things between them had moved at a shockingly fast pace. Part of it was timing constraints, since both Jake and Rosalie knew they wouldn’t have much time together, they didn’t bother wasting any by playing games. But part of it was they had clicked instantly. And the physical attraction was undeniable.
She remembered their first kiss… It had happened after two weeks of seeing each other almost every day. They were watching the skaters at Rockfeller Center when she had turned to him and asked him bluntly why he had made no attempts to kiss her or touch her at all.
“Don’t you find me attractive?”
Jake had been flabbergasted by the question.
“Of course I do,” he replied.
“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
“Because… because Rosalie, you are so innocent and so pure, I can’t do that to you, especially when I can’t offer you anything more than whatever this is.”
“Who said anything about offering me more?” she had challenged. “I’m here because I want to be here. I’m old enough to know what I want and I know I want you. I don’t want to be pure and innocent with you.”
But Jake didn’t look convinced.
“I can’t Rosalie; if I kiss you, I’ll be crossing a line and I don’t know where that line will end. I respect you too much to hurt you in any way.”
She had smiled at him mischievously, flattered he found her so irresistible. She could tell from the stubborn set of his jaw he meant what he said. He wouldn’t stop being respectful and he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. So she decided to take matters into her own hand. Without breaking eye contact, she stepped closer towards him until their bodies were almost touching. She leaned her head towards him, her lips brushing against his ear and whispered,
“Don’t you think it would be fun to find out where that line ends?” And then she kissed him.
CHAPTER THREE:
Amanda twisted her hands together; she did that whenever she was especially nervous. It was a childhood habit.
“Rosalie, have you been feeling alright?”
Puzzled by the question Rosalie shrugged her shoulders, “Yes of course. Why do you ask?”
“Are you coming down with a flu or something?”
“No, I’m completely fine.”
“Well I’ve been hearing you up throwing up the last few nights…”
“Oh.” A flush of color flooded Rosalie’s cheeks as she remembered her very explicit dreams about Jake.
“I’m sure it’s just a stomach thing or something I ate that didn’t sit well with me.”
“And you haven’t been feeling anything else? A little more tired than usual or sleepy?”
That made Rosalie pause – now that she was thought about it she had been feeling extremely tired these past few weeks too. No matter how well she slept the night before, by midmorning she felt like all the energy had been sapped out of her.
The look on Rosalie’s face was enough to answer Amanda’s question. She checked to make sure the bedroom door was still closed and listened for the sound of any footsteps in the hallway. Satisfied there was nobody outside their door she dropped her voice to whisper and asked bluntly,
“Rosalie, when was the last time you had your period?”
Rosalie was so shocked to hear Amanda ask about something she considered unladylike to discuss that the implication of what she was asking didn’t sink in right away.
“Rosalie!” Amanda’s voice rose a little higher and she shook Rosalie’s hand gently to get her attention.
“This is very important, when did you last have you period?”
> A sick feeling swirled in the pit of Rosalie’s stomach and another bout of nausea rolled over her. This one from fear, because as her brain scanned through dates and times and quickly did the math, she realized what Amanda was getting at.
“Oh my God,” she whispered softly before sinking to her feet. She turned large, fearful eyes towards Amanda, “Oh my God,” she repeated again. “What am I going to do?”
Amanda went down on her knees until she was at eye level with Rosalie. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and sympathy.
“Oh love, what did you do? Is it one of the boys here?”
An image of Jake flashed before Rosalie’s eyes. Could he still be considered as one of the boys here? No. Her father had banished him from the community years ago. She shook her head.
“No,” she said dully, “it isn’t one of the boys here.”
“Rumpsringa.” Amanda concluded grimly.
“Yes.”
“How far along do you think you are?”
“Maybe a month? A month and a half? I really don’t know,” Rosalie confessed, desperately thinking of the endless weeks of lovemaking she had enjoyed with Jake. She had no way of knowing which one of the times had resulted in this.
“How can you not know? When did you…when…” Amanda struggled to find a delicate way of phrasing the question.
“When did I have sex with him?” Rosalie asked bluntly. “It wasn’t just one night. It was many nights.”
Amanda’s face blanched and Rosalie felt a wave of remorse at putting her sister through this, but there was no sense in lying about this. The proof was in the pudding, or in her oven, she thought wryly.
Amanda took a few deep breaths before saying grimly, “Okay, well what’s done is done. First thing we’re going to do is go see a doctor to make sure you really are pregnant. No sense in jumping to conclusions until we’re absolutely sure.”