by Kim Faulks
I’d not spoken to her, not even when she sent the stack of documents to my door, contracts outlining my stake in The Circle…but now it looked like she wanted to use that against me. “The Circle, or me. Does it matter?”
“I guess not…not with a fifty-one percent stake. Now you are The Circle, kid. The way it was always meant to be.”
I swallowed hard and tried to control the surprise.
She didn’t know…how the fuck didn’t she know?
I’d assumed Horton would’ve been on the phone to her the moment I stepped out of his office. And Betty…even if Horton didn’t spill his guts at the first opportunity, I was sure she would.
What to do…what to fucking do? Just pretend I never went to the Director? Just breeze past the fact I was giving up my stake in the company for structural changes? Frantic thoughts crowded in. Maybe she wouldn’t be pissed if she understood? Maybe the person she was about to kill wasn’t me after all? I mean, why give away something like The Circle to the person you were about to kill?
“So, the weapons,” my damn voice squeaked, sounding pathetic. I swallowed, cleared my throat, and then tried again. “You going to elaborate?”
She gave a shrug and moved toward the kitchen. “That depends.”
I winced. “On what?”
She cut a glare toward my boot, “On whether that knife in your boot is coming out?”
She said it so sincerely, it was a shame to shatter the illusion with a smirk, and a chuckle. She thought I’d come here to hurt her? “If I wanted to hurt you, Alma, why in the hell would I let every damn creature in a ten-mile radius know I was coming? Anyway, the knife’s only dangerous…to Redemption’s tires.”
I’d stabbed the bastard’s tires. I would’ve stabbed him if he’d been around. Smug, self-righteous sonofabitch. If there was one thing I’d inherited from my father, it was his temper.
“Then it’s tea first,” she grumbled, and made for the kitchen. “Then we talk.”
I took a slow step, scanning the map and the details as the icy warning whispered in my ear…careful.
And I listened to that voice. Something felt off. The maps, the books…she even looked cagier than usual, prowling, and watching. It wasn’t like her to be so…exposed.
I glanced to the open books in front of the sofa. They were journals…her journals, ones she used to document every creature she found.
The information in those books created the Hunter’s Standard Operating Policy, detailing creatures and packs, from the way they hunted to the way they mated.
But the number of old books I saw here was nothing compared to the number of new ones.
Any other hunter would fill a book a year, if they were lucky. But not Alma. There were piles of them, big, thick ones with gold-gilded spines and brown leather-bound covers. There were hard-backed ones covered with taut dark blue cloth, and smaller ones, pocket sized, that were perched on top of one another, some even piled on the floor.
She’s been gone a long time, the best part of four years, and, as I stared at the journals, I wondered what in the hell had she been doing?
Tea cups clanged in the kitchen, there was a drag of glass canister across the counter before she spoke. “I hear you’ve been giving your f—Lucifer, I hear you’ve been giving Lucifer a hard time.”
I flinched with the words. Even after all these years, she couldn’t even call him what he was. “You mean a hard time like wanting to know where the hell he’s been for the last twenty-five years? Then yeah…I guess I have.” The clink of the teaspoon stilled, silence settled in like an unwelcome guest. “Don’t tell me you’re going to say I’m too hard on him.”
She took a step, her gaze cutting right through me, and, for a second, I saw it—saw the woman behind the mask, just like I did in the mirror’s reflection in Wicked’s bar on the night I met my father for the first time.
She was scared…no, not scared.
She was fucking terrified.
But then, in an instant, the real Alma was gone, and in her place was the cold-hearted grandmother I’d always known. “Yes, you’re too hard. Is it not good enough that he’s here now? Why do you always have to wreck your relationships, Lorn? Goddamn self-sabotage if ever I saw it.”
I sucked in a breath, and the pathetic sound carried.
Her words stung, like the lash of a damn whip. She turned, giving me her back. There was a step, a slow drag of her foot, before she stilled. Her shoulders shuddered and then curled as though the weight of the entire word rested on her frail bones. “Never liked him,” she murmured. “Not even from the start. I knew who he was. The goddamn wings never fooled me, but they did your mother, God rest her wandering soul. He fooled her good and proper.”
Her words seemed to echo, and then fall silent. And I could do nothing but stare—nothing but feel the floor tremble, threatening to open up and suck me down into the endless black hole. She’d never spoken about him—not one word—not one whisper.
“But he didn’t know, none of it. Not about the pregnancy, or about you. She wanted to…at first, and then…” Silver hair glinted under the overhead lights as my grandmother lifted her head. “And then she was gone, stolen from both of us.”
He didn’t know? It was true…everything he said. He didn’t know about me…didn’t know anything. “Why? Why didn’t she tell him? Why didn’t she care enough to at least let me know?”
There was a shake of her head, a silent acknowledgment of my mother’s failings. I had a right, didn’t I? I had a right to at least know his name. Instead, I knew nothing. I was motherless and fatherless all at the same time.
Oh, I had Alma, for as long as she deemed necessary, and then I had no one—just a lone fucking wolf, desperate to survive. “I want to know about the Nine.”
She shook her head…
“At least tell me something.”
She straightened her spine, took the three steps toward the counter and grasped the two cups. Tea splashed against the side of the chipped ceramic. I strode forward and grasped the heat from her fingers.
Knotted knuckles tried to curl around the rim, but they were swollen and red, leaving the dainty handles to slip in her grasp.
The sight was a boot to my gut.
I tried not to tremble, taking the cups from her hands before I turned. Inside my head I was reeling, trying to desperately piece this all together. She was frail, far more than I had imagined.
The years had been unkind to her, and, for a second, I wanted to tell her I didn’t care—not about the secrets or the lies—not about what drove her from me in the first place. She was back. She was home, and we had a chance to start again. We had a chance to have the kind of connection we should’ve had from the beginning.
“No one knows who they are or what they want. I have nothing to give you Lorn. Nothing that will ease you…the only thing I have is pain and more questions. So the answer is no. I cannot give you what you want…and what I don’t have.”
What she doesn’t have?
The shuffle of her steps echoed behind me as I made for the sofa. I shoved aside one of her journals and sat on the single seat at the end, leaving the dented cushions and thick afghan blanket for her to find some comfort.
The closer I was to her journals, the more I saw her handwriting had changed.
Gone was the perfect cursive flair that seemed to flow like a river from one page to the next. This was jerky, and savage, leaving blotches of ink on the pages, and jagged holes through to the next.
The markings were crude, long lines carving down the middle to divide and conquer. There was a list of trees by the looks of it.
What she doesn’t have…the words haunted me.
“Let me just get those,” she muttered, and slammed the cover shut.
Revealing a book underneath with detailed information…
Titus Banks - Species: Unknown
Mother: Miriam Henny (Human) deceased 2004, killed by a drunk driver.
Father: Regin
ald Banks (Unknown) retired Sergeant with Harbor Metropolitan Police. Suffered nervous breakdown in 2005, no record of whereabouts since 2007.
Titus Banks, last known address 166 Gardenia Way, Fullcher Paradise.
Brown hair, blue eyes, six feet, weight: approx 220 pounds
Married to…
No…I shook my head. My fingers trembled as I reached for the book. I didn’t need to turn the page. I could already see the unmerciful black scrawl through the pages.
Rival…hellhound, aka; Thanatos, last known sighting…
Gabriel…archangel…
I wrenched my head up. She was spying on me…no, worse, she was spying on the men I loved.
“What the fuck is this?” The words came out cold and harsh.
There wasn’t even a flinch of remorse, only those cold, hard eyes. Jesus…and here I was feeling sorry for her—here I was wanting to fucking care.
I shoved up from the seat, knocking the table. “What the fuck is this?”
Tea lapped the chipped sides of the teacup to trickle down the sides. This wasn’t happening—no, no fucking way.
“It’s for your own goo—” she started.
I stabbed the air with my finger. “Stop right there. I’m sick to fucking death of hearing that. So fucking get off it. First Redemption, and now you? You think being blood gives you the fucking right to what…spy on me?”
I took a step backwards. I had to gain some distance, had to find some way to breathe. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
I searched her face…and her cold, unflinching gaze. She was taking them from me…plowing a seed of doubt.
“You don’t even know them,” my grandmother snarled.
There wasn’t a hint of fucking remorse. “And you think you do? You come back after all these years, and for what? To take everything from me all over again? That’s it, right? You want me to be as cold and alone as you are.”
She never flinched, never shook her head. Her cold eyes glinted with unspoken words. There was a shudder through her frail body, and then a slight shift—a straightening of her shoulders—to ramrod straight.
I shook my head. “I came here for answers…I came because…because I thought this time it’d be different—that you’d be different. But you’re still the same heartless bitch you always were.”
She blurred under my tears as I shook my head. I would not hear it…not one fucking word.
“You think the hellhound just happened to be in the neighborhood?” Cold words—icy heart. She stabbed a gnarled finger toward the book. “You think you know him at all?”
His beautiful face filled my mind. Orange flames danced in obsidian eyes. That smile—that damn sexy smile and he was right there…always right there. “You don’t…you don’t know him.”
And those green eyes flared to life. “And you think you do? Don’t be a fool, girl. I taught you better than that.”
“No. You just taught me when the going gets tough, family leave. No wonder mom left.”
The words were out before I could stop them. It was a cruel blow—a killing blow.
She froze, soft lips parted. Muscles worked behind the soft flesh on her throat. Her words were croaky and raw. “And that right there is the greatest lesson of all. Trust no one. Depend on no one—not even family. Stand on your own two feet, because even those you love will betray you in the end.”
I dropped my gaze to the stack of journals and then turned to the map stuck on the wall as a hard bark of laughter escaped. “Then consider the lesson well taught. Goodbye, Alma. I wish you well.”
My heart was a beast, a sickening savage thing. It stabbed me, tearing from the inside out as it crawled with claws and nails through my chest and into my throat.
I turned and left the old woman sitting on the sofa amongst her afghans and her books. An old woman I once knew—an old woman I once loved.
Tears blurred the stars as I strode through the door at the rear of the house and out into the open. The heavy thud of my boots was all I could hear--not even the rush of a breath infiltrated the numbness as I rounded the front of the car and yanked the handle.
How fucking naive—stupid and naive.
Like a true hunter, she’d set the trap and I walked blindly into it. This wasn’t about giving me answers—I slid into the driver’s seat and stabbed the ignition with the key—and it sure as hell wasn’t about forgiveness.
It was about deceit and control.
She wanted to drive a wedge between us…she wanted me alone.
And as I twisted the key and started the engine, the journal and all its dirty secrets slipped into my mind. Titus Banks - Species: Unknown…
I swallowed hard and shoved the car into gear. It didn’t matter…nothing like that mattered. Not Rival’s real name or Gabriel’s past. White lights lit up the way as I hit the accelerator.
There was movement at the window, just a blur as I shot past. Alma got what she always wanted…me far away from her.
I spun the wheel as the back end of the sedan hit the start of the driveway, before I braked to a stop, and shoved the car into park. My fists strangled the wheel, trying to still the shake, before I stared straight ahead, and shoved the car into gear once more.
Tires bit against the shale terrain as I punched the accelerator.
I just wanted to get home. Home with its raw, honest messy emotions…
Home with no more lies.
The car bottomed out, and then rose hard, climbing the hill.
Home with the men I loved, men who’d never keep secrets from me…
And, in the space of a breath, Alma’s words brought to life a question that haunted me.
You think the hellhound just happened to be in the neighborhood? Don’t be a fool, girl. I taught you better than that...
Chapter Four
Lorn
The headlights behind me were blinding. I blinked into the glare and tried to focus on the road ahead. City lights beckoned in the distance, like the stars against the night sky—and, right now, they felt just as far.
Home was a good twenty minutes away and the icy breath of morning was closing in fast. I was already thinking of my bed, already needing the comfort of the men in my life…and yet, all I could hear were her words.
You think the hellhound just happened to be in the neighborhood? Don’t be a fool, girl. I taught you better than that…
Everyone had secrets. Hell, even I had secrets I didn’t even know about. I’d never outright asked them for information…any of them. I respected their damn privacy, just as they respected mine.
Still, that fucking seed of doubt waited, softening and splitting, wanting to break open and grow roots.
Just ask him. He’ll tell you anything you want to know…
And if he didn’t? If he skirted the subject or changed it completely? What then?
Lights gleamed behind me, bouncing off the rear-view mirror. I squinted and leaned forward out of the glare—fucking asshole. But the blinding lights left me fumbling. Luminescent sparks danced in my eyes, blurring the white lines on the road.
The gunning engine snarled and growled behind me, filling the cabin of the sedan with sound. I punched the accelerator and watched the needle on the speedometer climb.
The lights behind dimmed as the car fell away. I kept my sights on the blacktop as a car sped past in the opposite direction. Then they were at it again, gunning the engine and closing in. There was no one coming, if they wanted to go around they had plenty of space.
But they didn’t want to. Those words hit me like a blow. This wasn’t about them getting anywhere but under my skin. I gripped the steering wheel. “Goddamn bastards.”
I couldn’t outrun them, not in an old police-issue piece of crap like this, and as the glare flooded the inside of the car once more, panic inside me turned to anger.
They wanted to play? Then I’d fucking play.
The accelerator hit the floor. The old car shuddered, limping ahead more than lunging,
but we were gaining momentum, finding each tiny tread on the blacktop, and the city lights beckoned, reaching out to me with the tiny glimmer of hope.
I kept my focus on the road ahead as the lights behind me dimmed, but the car wasn’t gone—no, the bastard was close. The hard jolt from behind snapped my head forward. Panic surged like a firework unleashed. I swallowed the cry, piercing my lip with my teeth.
I wrestled with the steering wheel as this steaming pile of junk became an uncontrolled metal missile and I crossed the center line.
Easy…easy now. I coaxed the car back onto my side of the road as the bastard behind me eased away. The city lights were a blur in the distance. I wasn’t going to make it…
One glance into the rear-view mirror, and I punched my right boot into the floor and lifted my ass. Fingers fumbled, pinching and yanking my phone free. I was closer to Alma, but the thought of her coming to save me…no, hell no.
Panic was in the driver’s seat now as I hit the button and scrolled. Rival’s name was a neon light in the utter darkness…until one slide of my thumb and he was gone. I hit the call button, and then the speaker as the car behind me closed in once more.
“Lorn…you okay?” Titus’ sleepy growl flooded the space.
“There’s a car behind me. They’re trying to run me off the road.”
And in an instant the exhaustion was gone from his tone. He was switched on…one hundred fucking percent dialed in. “Where are you?”
“Still ten minutes away.” the car behind me gathered speed, lunging like a beast closing in for the kill. “Titus, he’s coming!”
The impact was brutal, slamming me into the steering wheel. This time there was no saving the spin…this time there was no saving anything.
The phone flew from my hand as the car spun sideways.
Agony shot along my thumb as the wheel whipped from my grasp, twisting and buckling my fingers as it went.
“Lorn!” Titus roared. But then he was gone, along with the phone.