Whispered Visions (Shifters & Seers Book 3)

by Tammy Blackwell

  “Snow White. You look lovely in your pretty, pretty dress,” he repeated in monotone. Caroline responded by throwing herself on the floor and screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “Jesus Christ, Caro. What the hell?”

  The sound was so loud and nerve-grating he was on the cusp of doing something stupid, like stuffing her in a garbage can or ripping his ears off.

  “You’re. Not. Playing. Right.” Each word was divided by an intake of air to maximize the volume.

  Layne knew there was probably some parenting protocol saying you shouldn’t give in to a child’s demands when they were throwing a fit, but he wasn’t a parent and his ears were more sensitive than your average dad. There were only two options, and he decided to go with the one that didn’t involve his eardrums bursting.

  “Oh, Snow White, whatever is the matter?” he asked in his best princess voice. He was beyond caring that he actually had a best princess voice. “Did you fall? Or has your evil stepmother poisoned you yet again?”

  Caroline stared blankly, but at least she wasn’t screaming.

  “It was your stepmother, wasn’t it? She’s given you some horrible poison. Wait here. I have an antidote!”

  Pari had very strict rules about Caroline and sugar, but Pari wasn’t there, and this was an emergency. Grabbing a spoon and the jar of Nutella off the counter, he raced back to the little girl, who was now sitting up and sniffling, and offered her a spoonful of the forbidden spread. Within seconds she was back to her normal bossy self.

  “Okay, now you have to go prick your finger on one of Lizzie’s knitting needles and fall into a deep sleep. And then the prince will come, fight the dragon, and kiss you back awake.”

  “I thought the dragon was part of Sleeping Beauty’s story.”

  “It is.”

  “I thought I was Cinderella.”

  “You are.”

  Of course he was.

  “Why can’t I be the prince?”

  “Because I’m the prince.”

  “But you’re a girl.”

  “But I want to fight the dragon.”

  “But I’m a boy.”

  “So?”

  “So boys are princes who fights dragons.”

  “No!”

  The garbage can option was looking more and more appealing.

  “Okay, how about a deal? I’ll be the princess if - and only if - you play what I want to play next.”

  She agreed, and once he’d received a sticky, chocolate-flavored kiss right on the mouth, he declared Caroline’s turn over.

  “My turn,” Layne said, turning a slow circle in the middle of the room. He would have attempted the my-game-is-taking-a-nap trick, but he’d tried that once before and Caroline wasn’t having it. His only hope was to come up with something bearable she would still think of as fun. “How about a camping trip?”

  Caroline batted a strand of dirty hair out of her face. She’d been doing that a lot since Madge had disappeared and left him in charge. Pari normally kept her hair in braids and pigtails, but he didn’t know anything about styling a little girl’s hair. The result was no one did anything with it and everything she ate somehow ended up clinging to the long strands.

  “What is a camping trip?”

  “Camping is when you go out in the woods and sleep in a tent. You know, like that one episode of Peppa Pig with the horse who thinks he’s a cowboy.”

  “We’re going outside?” Caroline’s eyes were as wide as saucers. She looked as if she might cry.

  “Well, not today.” Or any other day.

  Wait. They never went outside. Ever. The only time he’d been out of the apartment was the full moon, and during that time, Caroline had stayed right where she always was.

  “Caroline, have you ever been outside?”

  “I’m going to go when I get big. I’m going to run fast.”

  Once, back when they were friends, Lizzie told Layne there was a small fire of anger constantly burning in his heart. She worried about it, afraid one day something would throw gas on the flames and it would consume him. He never dreamed his great undoing would be a small girl who had never had a chance to feel the wind whip through her hair as she ran with all her might, but as the rage spread throughout his body, clogging up his throat and tightening his fists, he knew Lizzie had been wise to worry. No one could hold this much anger inside themselves.

  Just when he thought he might explode, a small hand gripped his. “Layne?” Caroline asked in her little Oliver Twist voice. It was like a bucket of ice water being poured over his rage. Anger still simmered beneath the surface, but at least he could think now.

  “I’m going to make you a promise, Care Bear,” he said, sweeping her off the floor and placing her on his shoulders. “I’m going to take you outside, and you and I are going to have a race.”

  “Now?”

  “Well, no, not now, but soon.” He would make sure of it. He didn’t have a lot of bargaining power, but he would make sure Caroline got to go outside somehow. “But for now, we’re bringing the outside inside.”

  “Outside inside?”

  “Yep,” Layne said, beginning to pull chairs around the room even as he balanced Caroline on his head. “We’re going to have an indoor camping trip, just like my dad and I used to do on rainy days.”

  Caroline leaned over and pulled up on his forehead so she could look at his face. “You have a dad?”

  He must have kicked up some dust moving around the chairs. That had to be the reason a lump grew in his throat and his eyes began to burn.

  “I did.” His voice was strangled, and he had to clear it more than once before he could continue. “He was very brave, like one of the princes from your movies. He used to make me the best forts ever. They would take over the entire house. It was like a fort village.”

  “What’s a fort?”

  Layne surveyed the room and did a mental run-through of all the linens. “I’m getting ready to show you,” he said, flipping her off his shoulders and onto her feet.

  It took over an hour and every sheet, blanket, and table cloth available to build an elaborate labyrinth that stretched through all the rooms on the girls’ side of the apartment. Caroline declared it her castle, and Layne declared himself an enchanted dragon. They chased each other for what felt like hours and acted out more death scenes than a Saw movie. They hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but at some point their energy simply vanished and they curled up together in one of the darker tents on a pile of pillows.

  Layne woke with the knowledge someone was watching him. One arm tightened around the little girl snuggled against him while the other went to his pocket where he’d stashed one of the dull steak knives he’d found in a drawer.

  “Calm down. It’s just me.”

  His eyes opened slowly to reveal Lizzie sitting a few feet away.

  “What are you doing?” he asked with a voice made deep by sleep.

  Lizzie pointed to the pale blue cloth above their heads. “That’s the sheet from my bed.”

  Caroline moved against him and made a whining noise in her throat. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been asleep, but it wasn’t long enough for her to wake up just yet. Caroline needed a good two hour nap every day or she turned into a demon hellbent on destruction. Layne rubbed small circles on her back and made shushing noises until she settled back down.

  “We made a fort,” he explained once he was certain Caroline wouldn’t be bothered by their whispered conversation.

  “I noticed. It’s quite impressive.”

  “I’ll put everything back where it was.”

  Lizzie nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything else. She just sat, looking at him. The low ceiling and light dimmed by the sheets made everything feel magical. In that moment, he felt connected to her in a way he hadn’t in years. He wanted her to touch him. Nothing sexual, especially not with a toddler sleeping in his arms, but one of the easy, friendly touches they used to share.

  “Lizzie—” />
  He didn’t know what he was going to say. Probably something embarrassing, like how much he missed her, or how despite everything, she was still his best friend. But fortunately, she cut him off before he could make a fool of himself.

  “You did a good job of taking care of her. Pari will be proud.”

  “Pari owes me big time,” he said simply because it was expected of him. “Where is she?”

  “Sleeping off the drugs. Dr. Patel said she would probably wake up in about an hour.”

  As if talking about sleeping had made her own eyelids heavy, Lizzie stretched out on the floor on the other side of Caroline. She was a good two feet away, but the intimacy of laying there with her was enough to make his chest ache.

  “How are you awake?” he asked, noticing for the first time that she looked sleepy, but not stoned.

  “Alistair took pity on me and my needle phobia. I just got some sleeping pills and a blindfold.” She yawned, a giant, unladylike thing complete with sound effects. “I tried to stay awake and listen for anything that might clue me into where we might be, but I passed out five minutes into the car ride. I’m sorry.”

  “Some asshole drugged you and put you in a blindfold. Don’t be sorry. Be pissed.”

  One side of her mouth curled up. “Can I be both sorry and pissed?”

  “Sorry takes up too much room. Ditch it, and focus on being pissed. Anger is a much stronger motivator than remorse.”

  She snorted as her eyes started to slide shut. She looked washed out and brittle, and he didn’t think it was just because of the way the light was filtering through the sheet. The rage he’d felt when Caroline told him she’d never been outside resurfaced.

  “Did they hurt you?” he whispered, terrified of the answer. If she said yes, what would he do? Attack the next guy who came through the door? Flip off the security cameras? They’d made him impotent, and that pissed him off more than anything else.

  “No. No one touched me.” He heard the part she was leaving out. Someone else had been hurt, and the haunted look in her eyes said she’d seen it happen. One gloved hand reached up to rub her right shoulder. “The worst part happened before I left here,” she said, obviously not wanting to talk about whatever happened.

  “The needle?”

  A small, self-depracating smile. “The needle. You know how I am.”

  He did. He’d once seen her smack a Pack doctor when he administered a flu shot without warning her first.

  “They took me to London,” she continued. “I got to ride the Tube and see Trafalgar Square and Big Ben.”

  “Sounds like a nice vacation.” The words slipped out, tasting of lemon rinds.

  “It was lovely, if you ignored the whole being kidnapped and forced to report on a Shifter who has decided to side with the enemy just so he could turn a profit.”

  She spat out the words as if she was offended by them, but Layne knew better than to expect the best out of people. When it came down to a choice between money and the lives of people you don’t know, he fully expected most people to take the money.

  “You didn’t run,” he pointed out. He wanted to be angry at her for not escaping, but he was too relieved to have her laying across from him, whole and unharmed.

  Lizzie flipped over on her back so she was looking at the cloth ceiling instead of him.

  “I told you I wouldn’t.”

  “Lizzie—”

  “No,” she said. “Don’t. I’m not going to abandon you. Ever. So save your breath.”

  He would, but at the moment he didn’t have enough breath to talk, much less an abundance to put back for a rainy day.

  “I’m not giving up on you, Layne Hagan,” she said more to herself than him.

  Still, he replied. “Why?”

  She turned her head to look at him. Unshed tears shone in her eyes. “You know why.”

  Chapter 15

  You know why.

  Could she have been any more of an idiot? She didn’t know what she was thinking.

  Actually, no. That was wrong. She hadn’t been thinking at all. She was still half-strung out from the sleeping pills she’d willingly swallowed before they left London. The soft light inside Layne’s pillow fort made the sight of him snuggling up with Caroline even more heart-meltingly, or brain-meltingly, sweet. She’d let herself forget all about the walls she’d erected between them, and why she’d built them in the first place. It was just three words, words that could have meant anything, but now, two days later, Layne was still looking at her as if he’d finally realized those walls were nothing more than an illusion.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Even worse, she hadn’t done anything to repair the damage. She could have. Easily. A few well thought out words and hours of carefully practiced apathy, and things would be back to normal. But she couldn’t talk herself into doing it. She couldn’t pretend indifference when all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and never let go.

  Maybe there was no use in trying anymore. Wasn’t this how every fairytale in existence went? The princess would run and hide, thinking she was safe from her curse, until it came sneaking out of nowhere and damned her for eternity… or until a handsome prince wandered along. Lizzie had to face the truth. The curse was coming for her, and this time, not even a prince with magical lips could save her.

  When she was little, she didn’t think of it as a curse, although her mother was constantly trying to convince her of the truth. “The Anders Curse,” she would say as Lizzie happily accepted an extra sucker from the bank teller. Sometimes the words were said with a chuckle, and other times it was with a sigh. Once Lizzie’s father was gone, she spat it out like a profanity.

  Lizzie was twelve when she finally had enough. “What does that even mean?” she screamed, exhaustion weighing down her overly thin shoulders.

  “You know what it means.” Her mother was laying on the couch she hadn’t left in two days, her frail body wrapped in an old, stained quilt. “People love you. You don’t do anything to deserve it. They just look at you and fall head over heels. Your father was the same way. Everywhere he went, women would bat their eyes and stick out their tits, trying to grab even a fraction of his attention. And just like him, one day you’ll fall in love with some poor fool who won’t know any better than to believe all your lies. Then, when he is so addicted to you he can’t remember who he is anymore, you’ll leave.”

  “I won’t,” Lizzie had said, trying to ignore that her mother basically said she didn’t deserved to be loved. “I would never hurt someone like Dad hurt you.”

  Her mother’s laugh was hollow and rusty. “You know, he said the same thing. ‘I’ll never be like my mom. I’m going to love you forever.’ And then one day, out of the blue, he decided he couldn’t stay here anymore. Said we were weighing him down. Two days later, he was gone.” She sat up then, looking more lucid than she had in weeks. “It was the curse. He loved me one day, and the next he didn’t. Your grandmother did the same thing to your grandfather, and someday you’ll do it too. You are your father’s daughter.”

  Lizzie hadn’t believed her, not then, but as time went on, the more her mother talked about the curse, and the more anyone who knew her parents said she was just like her father, the more it started making sense. And then, one day, she tried the ultimate experiment of her Seer powers with her best friend. She’d been building up, finding out how much she could See of one person’s mind at a time. When she grabbed his hand, she reached for everything, and found it. Every fear. Every hurt. And every ounce of love he had for her.

  It was happening. Only a curse could cause someone to feel so much. Like her mother said, she’d done nothing to deserve it. And the worst part was, she finally understood the full extent of the curse. Because what he felt for her was rivaled only by how much she loved him in return, and knowing one day all their love would disappear was unbearable.

  The next day she fished out her winter gloves and ordered another half dozen pairs onlin
e. Instead of meeting Layne for breakfast like she always did, she went to the Alphas and requested a room change. When he finally ran her down later that afternoon, she smugly said she didn’t have time for his childish games and suggested he go find friends his own age. Never once in the past three years did she look at him and not remember the way his face had fallen with pain and confusion. It took weeks of snide insults and ignored overtures for him to give up. She cried herself to sleep every night for a month after she first started feeling the hatred radiating off of him whenever she was around, but it was for the best. The only way to protect him was to push him away. She couldn’t - wouldn’t - do to him what her father did to her mother. She loved him too much to turn him into a hollow shell of a person. She would rather he be filled with rage than be empty.

  For three years, it had worked. She kept pushing him away, and eventually they both forgot how much they meant to one another. She knew he never really stopped loving her, the same way a part of her heart always belonged to him, but it was nothing more than a tiny treasure box of affection he kept hidden. At least, it had been when they were able to avoid each other the majority of the time. But now that box was flung open, and the love inside was once again a living thing.

  And instead of feeling defeated or guilty like she should, Lizzie reveled in being loved.

  Her mother was right. She was cursed. Destined to become the bad guy. No matter how much she tried to fight it, her resolve was weakening. One day she was going to give in, and then it was all over but the shouting.

  No. She could do this. She would rebuild the walls. She would protect him from herself. Because in the end, it wouldn’t just be shouting. There would be tears and hurt and anger. When the time came for her to join the family business of leaving, she would destroy the most precious thing in her world.

  “You do know you have to actually look at the words on the page to read, don’t you?” the object of her thoughts asked, plopping down next to her on the couch, despite there being several other perfectly acceptable empty seats.

  “I’m envisioning the scene,” she lied, hoping the heat in her cheeks wasn’t translating into a blush. It was stupid for her to be embarrassed. She was the one with mind-reading abilities. Not him. Yet she couldn’t help but worry he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. “I like to get the setting right in my mind before all the drama happens. It ruins the mood when I have to go back and figure that stuff out after the fact.”