"She looks healthy. Thanks to Dr. Nesbitt,” Cheyenne answered. They exchanged glances and Glen tilted his head as he looked back to Rose.
"Really?"
"Yeah. She can really do some healing."
"I've never seen healing to this extent before..."
"Has she ever healed a full-blood werewolf?"
"Probably. Doesn't matter though. You're still not going."
"Why?” Rose put her hands on her ample hips, letting the strap of her purse catch in the crook of her elbow.
Davis joined them, looking every bit as cynical as he had become over the months. His dark eyebrows almost touched.
"It's too dangerous,” he said, answering for Glen. The males looked at each other in a way that had Rose curious as to what they had been talking about before they stepped in. “I really think someone is trying to hurt you. We can't risk anything."
"Davis is right,” Glen piped in. “Something could happen."
Rose stared at first Glen, then Davis, then back again disbelievingly. “Wait a minute—you don't want me to go out because of something that could happen? I'm tired of being stuck here. I need to get out.” She turned to Cheyenne. “You've got the list of what we need? Let's go."
Cheyenne's eyebrows shot up in surprise when Rose brushed past her, not waiting for them to say anything.
"Rose, wait a damn minute.” Glen caught up with her easily, but Rose didn't stop, not even when Glen grabbed her arm.
She pulled away from him as she jerked open the door. She met his gaze. “I am not waiting anymore. I want to go out.” She stopped, glancing back at Cheyenne and Davis, matching looks of worry and confusion on their faces. “I'm feeling much better. I look much better. There's no better time than now."
She lowered her voice, not wanting the others to hear the pleading tone in her voice. “Let me do this."
Glen sighed and looked to Davis. Rose followed his stare. The stern look on the younger man's face and the mild shake of his head confirmed the fact he had heard her and didn't think it was a good idea. Cheyenne's look was a little more relaxed, but there was still a hint of uncertainty there.
"I'm really not going to be able to stop you, am I?"
"No, you're not. I'm large and in charge.” Rose was glad when Glen's serious façade was broken with a grin. “Get used to it."
She turned her attention to Cheyenne, who didn't hide the fact she was listening. “You'll keep an eye on me right?” When Cheyenne nodded, she looked back to Glen. “You trust Cheyenne, so, see—I'll be fine."
Glen's grin faded a little, but didn't disappear completely. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “All right."
"You can't do that,” Davis exploded. He stepped forward, pushing past Cheyenne in his haste. “We talked about this last night. If there's someone out there trying to harm Rose—"
"Davis, shut up.” Glen glared at him and Davis did shut his mouth. He glared back as he spoke. “I know what we talked about and I still refuse to believe it."
Davis's mouth dropped open but Glen held up a hand to let him continue. “But I am cautious, regardless of that. Rose is right—she can't stay here all the time. If someone is trying to hurt her maybe leaving for a short time might weed that person out."
Rose didn't like where the conversation was going and judging by the look on his face, neither did Davis. He gaped at Glen. “We don't need to weed the person out. I told you—"
"Shut up. We'll talk about it later, just not here, not now."
"Talk about what?” Rose asked. She wanted to know, but Glen dismissed it with a shake of his head.
"Nothing. Not important."
Cheyenne cleared her throat loudly. “We should get going. Might take us a few hours to get everything we need."
"Yeah, let's get this show on the road.” Rose pulled her purse strap further up her arm and Glen stepped back to let her open the door. They filed out of the building, and started down the sidewalk toward the PRDI car parked on the sidewalk.
It wasn't much to look at—a blue Ford Taurus with lots of trunk space—but it served its purpose. Glen purchased it for official use. His van had long ago died and was now resting in Automobile Heaven.
Nola was heading up the sidewalk toward them, her hands tucked into the pockets of her light jean jacket. She stopped when she saw them emerge, her eyes going wide.
"Hey,” she answered, sounding a bit nervous. “What's going on?"
"Supply run,” Cheyenne answered, stopping with the others. Rose sniffed the air, something she was glad she was able to do now. The outdoors smelled of springtime: fresh cut grass, newly blooming flowers, and something that smelled like oranges that she couldn't quite place.
"What are you doing?” Davis broke in, stepping up to face Nola. Rose could almost smell his anger.
"Taking a walk. What else would I be doing?” Nola answered, looking very chagrined. Rose looked down at her heeled designer boots. They didn't look comfortable for walking, but she said nothing.
"You like to take a lot of walks, don't you?” Davis said in an accusing tone. His face was livid, his temples throbbing. “Makes me wonder where you like to walk to."
"What the hell is your problem?"
Davis opened his mouth to say something more, but stopped when Glen clamped a hand on his shoulder. Rose watched as her cousin turned his gaze to Nola and smiled.
"Don't mind him. He just had a bad night."
"Obviously,” Nola scoffed. She looked at Davis with an angry glare. Her gaze turned to Rose and they met. Immediately, Rose felt coldness move throughout her body and she almost shivered at it. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on Nola's until finally, she looked back to Glen. “I'm going inside. Enjoy your supply run."
Before she pushed past them, she gave Davis another nasty glare and walked quickly toward the front door. Rose watched her disappear inside.
"What the hell was that all about?"
"I'll tell you what that was about—” Davis started but Glen gripped his shoulder a little tighter.
"Not now,” he growled. Davis shook him away.
Cheyenne chuckled and shook her head. She stepped up to Rose, who felt incredibly confused, and hooked her arm in hers. “Boys will be boys,” she whispered in her ear. “I doubt very much we'll ever figure them out."
"Most likely,” Rose agreed, though she was sure this wasn't just some guy thing they were talking about. She started to walk with Cheyenne toward the end of the sidewalk.
Cheyenne said something, but Rose didn't hear her. She was too blinded by the sudden stab of pain that shot through her stomach.
Oh God, Rose thought as she nearly doubled over. It knocked the wind out of her. She couldn't breath. Not again. I'm healed. This can't be happening!
Her legs went out from under her and she hit the ground. Cheyenne had hold of her and she was shouting, her voice loud in Rose's ear. She felt nauseous and the pain hit her again, this time in her head. She saw something—fire—flash behind her eyelids.
She screamed, unable to bear it. Then she realized she wasn't the only one screaming. There was a sudden blast of heat, a huge boom and her vision cleared just enough to see the PRDI car go up in a ball of flame. It was the last thing she saw before blacking out.
* * * *
* * * *
Aurora turned the page of her English Composition textbook lethargically. She had been reading the same paragraph over and over and she still didn't understand it, but she moved on, hoping the next page would make more sense. It didn't.
With a sigh, she shut the book and pushed it aside. Unfolding her legs from their crossed position, she leaned back on her dorm bed and closed her eyes. College was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated.
She had come here with hopes of becoming a writer, but that idea was quickly falling apart. Having admired Rose and her writing success, she had wanted to be just like her: successful, with a couple of books published. The only problem was Aurora's lack of writing talent, which she had
discovered earlier last semester when she nearly flunked her Writing I class. She had hoped she could overcome it by taking a supplementary English class during the summer months before she took Writing II in the fall.
It wasn't working so well.
And it wasn't just her lack of writing talent that had her listlessly turning pages and putting her book aside. Aurora's mind was somewhere she didn't want it to be. She opened her eyes, finding them focusing once again on the backpack on her mother's chest at the foot of her bed. It was still zipped tight. She hadn't touched it since she threw it there yesterday afternoon.
She could still almost feel the strange tingle of power from here, but it was imagined. She didn't want to feel it again for real. It was too strange.
The energy was connected to something; Aurora had learned that much from reading her magick books, but she had no clue just what the connection was. She was certain it surrounded the new woman at the PRDI, Nola.
She shivered, goose bumps popping up on her arms at the thought. The changed-blood had been so aggressive and dominating. Aurora knew she was trying to intimidate her—and it had worked.
But she was stumped as to what the connection between the two could be. Aurora thought on it a few minutes more until curiosity began to get the better of her. She crawled to the end of the bed and stared at the backpack as if it would pop open magically. Irresistibly drawn to it, she knew she had to find out what the connection was. Somehow, she knew it was important.
Gathering up her courage and letting her curiosity win, Aurora reached for the bag. She pulled it to her, surprised when she didn't feel any power emanating from it this time.
The connection was gone.
Aurora furrowed her eyebrows together as she opened the bag and removed the book. Slowly, she ran her hands over the empty leather cover. Though it no longer pulsed, it still felt strange in her lap.
Once again, she was careful as she opened it, starting at the very front this time. She held her breath in anticipation. Her heart raced as she leaned over it. The faded text was hard to read, but Aurora's werewolf sight compensated and she began.
The first few pages were introductory, just the basic Wiccan and witchcraft information Aurora had come across in other text books, but the language was so different. It occurred to her that no one talked like that any more, not since long before the days of the American Revolution. It had to be at least that old.
Trembling, she turned another page, finding simple spells, potions, charms and lore. She skimmed over them, not interested in that. She was looking for something more.
About a third of the way into the book, the text rapidly changed. It was no longer written in Old English. Clearly, someone else had picked up a pen and began using the book as their personal grimoire. Puzzled by this, Aurora read a few lines.
My name is Emily Camille. This book once belonged to an ancestor and was used as the family's Book of Shadows for many years until it was hidden away by prudent family members whose changed lifestyle no longer included the need for magick...
Aurora stopped there. She knew what a Book of Shadows was; it was generally a witch's most powerful tool. It was a spell book, often passed down from generation to generation. How had it ended up in the PRDI's library? She continued to read.
I found it in a trunk hidden in my grandmother's attic. I know it is an important book; why else would it be kept hidden? I will read what I can of this book and add my knowledge to it. It's time that this is no longer hidden away. My daughters have a right to know of what they are, of their heritage. If I don't do this for them, who will?
Aurora let out a breath, rustling the pages softly. She leaned back, thinking. Who was this woman? She was a witch clearly, or Wiccan or both. She had daughters. Had she been a PRDI student? Aurora flipped back to a page earlier, searching for a date. There was none.
Who was Emily Camille and when had she written this? Feeling frustrated, the young were turned the page. Along with the charms, spells and undated diary entries were lists of magickal stones and their properties, color meanings and magickal terms, written in Emily's handwriting.
Aurora paused when she found an extensive list of herbs used in the spells. It had information about what the herbs were good for, if they were poisonous or not. The really impressive thing was the hand-drawn pictures for identification. It was the most comprehensive list she had ever seen.
There were herbs she had never even heard of. She touched the inked picture of a sprig of lavender, realizing the hours it must've taken to draw all the intricate details. This woman was dedicated.
Still staring at the entry for lavender, Aurora quickly reminded herself she had taken the book for a reason. She had questions which needed answers and she had thought the book with the powerful energy emanating from it would contain something. But it didn't help Aurora.
Other than the surprising discovery of the book's former owner, the book had proved to be a disappointment. No longer pulsing with power, it was just a book of spells and some woman's diary. There were no secret texts, no super powerful spells she could use. There were no answers to her burning questions.
She had wanted to know desperately who was this strange woman appearing in her dreams was, but that question soon gained a few companions.
What was this strange feeling of power she had been feeling and what was its connection with the book? What was the connection with Nola Anderson? Was there even a connection at all?
The questions made her head hurt and Aurora closed her eyes a moment. She inhaled the old scent of the book. The answers were probably not in here, but she wasn't even halfway through it. Perhaps Emily Camille had come across something later. Maybe the woman appearing to her in her dreams was Emily Camille.
There was only one way to find out.
Aurora reopened her eyes and turned another page. She finished with the herbs list and ran through a couple of basic healing spells. She turned the page, not interested in the spells. She stopped mid-turn.
There was nothing else.
A shiver went through her suddenly. The pages were dead, blank. Aurora's hands shook with unknown panic as she flipped through them. There was nothing else. The book was empty.
Holding back the urge to curse, Aurora sighed instead. The book was useless to her now. Apparently Emily Camille never gave it to her daughters. It wound up in the PRDI library instead.
Her panic and shock gave way to frustration. Aurora shoved the book away from her, not caring when it toppled off the bed and hit the floor, crumpling several of the old pages.
She fell back on her bed, finding the remote to her roommate's stereo. She wasn't due back for another few days—it was the weekend and she was at her parent's—so Aurora had free reign until then. She hit the start button and Ozzy Osbourne blasted out from the speakers. She closed her eyes and tried to let her frustrations melt away with the beat.
A loud, rapid knock at her dorm room door jarred her out of her thoughts. She sat up, grabbing the remote and hitting mute.
"Who is it?"
"It's me,” a familiar male voice called, and Aurora jumped out of the bed. She straightened her clothes quickly, swiping at the wrinkles in her shirt but to no avail. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and ran fingers through her brown hair. She looked all right. She only hoped he would think so too.
She unlocked the door and pulled it open. Aaron Slater stood there, looking good in his black AC/DC t-shirt and ripped jeans. His short red hair was spiked and tipped in black. Multiple earrings glinted from his lobes and Aurora winced, knowing he had to re-pierce his ears every time he put them in, due to his full-blood healing. She shook the thought away and smiled.
"Aaron, hi.” She leaned against the door. He smelled strongly of his full-blood scent, with an underlying scent of Axe body spray. Her smile immediately fell away when she saw the paleness of his face and the worry in his dark brown eyes. “What is it?"
"Don't you ever answer your cell phone?�
�� he asked, annoyed. He didn't wait for an invitation and brushed right by her. Aurora blinked and stepped aside, shutting the door behind him.
"What's going on?"
Slater took a good look around the room, something he always did as a precaution. He spun and turned to look at her. “There's been an accident."
"What?"
"At the PRDI."
"Yesterday,” Aurora answered. “Rose had a close call on the stairs—"
"No, an accident today. I've been trying to call you for the past hour."
"My phone was on mute.” Aurora felt her worry increase. “There was another accident?"
"Yeah, Davis called me.” Aurora watched Slater's temples throb as he said his half-brother's name. They were never on good terms, so it had to be a big deal if his brother was calling him about it. “There was a car explosion."
"Oh, God.” Aurora felt all the warmth drain out of her body and her heart began to labor at a faster pace. She put her hand to her chest, leaning back against the wall for support. “How?"
"I don't know.” Slater shook his head. “Davis wasn't clear on the details. We have to get there as soon as possible."
Aurora found herself nodding before she realized she was even moving. “I'll get my shoes."
Slater stepped out of her way as she crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. She felt scared and sick. A car explosion. This was serious.
She grabbed her sneakers from under her bed and slipped them on her feet. She did so automatically, her thoughts going back to yesterday. Seeing Rose topple over the side of the staircase and almost fall was bad enough, but an explosion? Someone was really trying to kill her.
Aurora took a deep breath, fighting down sickness. “Did anyone—” she felt a lump in her throat and she swallowed before finishing, “—die?” She paused in tying her shoe and looked up at him.
It seemed to take an awful long time for him to respond. Aurora was relieved when he shook his head. “No, no one died. They were lucky they weren't that close to the car."
"Who? What car?” Aurora tied her right shoe quickly and moved to her left.
Slater stepped toward her. “Cheyenne and Rose were going on a supply run and the PRDI car exploded as they were walking to it."
Dark Moon Magick [The Moon Series: Book 4] Page 14