The next morning, I still didn’t feel any better. My belly ached, and since I’d wronged the universe, my morning just went to hell. My best blouse had a tear. My skirt had a wrinkle that just wouldn’t die, even after I steamed it to death. And on the way to work, I got a lovely flat tire.
No one stopped to help me either.
While I hauled out the spare, more dark thoughts weighed down my shoulders. It was the shame of my late-night tryst being out in the open. No matter how many times I doused myself in body wash, I couldn’t scrub Thorn’s scent from my body. The next couple of days would be pure hell. I cringed as I finished changing the tire. I’d brought all of this on myself. I was the other woman. The one that wasn’t good enough to actually be his mate. Whatever happened to me today, I pretty much deserved it.
Like I’d promised, I’d packaged that treacherous goblin’s enchanted blade to ship it back to him. But when I got to the postal service drop-box by The Bends, I noticed that the damn weapon had morphed itself again, this time into a stupid broadsword. (As to what was lurking nearby that would require me to need one, I really didn’t want to know.) The sharp blade protruded out of the metal box. Somehow it had “cut” through the metal, and now I had something I couldn’t ship without violating several safety laws. Swell.
It didn’t improve my mood, of course, when Bill had something to say about my tardy arrival.
“What happened to you? You’re late.” He spied a customer who let her kids wander too close to some glasses. Any closer and he’d have to show his true colors and be an irate business owner. “Just because your trials are coming soon doesn’t give you an excuse to show up looking all tired and old—”
“Good morning to you too, Bill.” With a sour face, I waved at him and kept walking. He had no room to talk about people looking old. I’d seen what his species really looked like. Even though he was a few centuries old, his age was the least of his problems.
Work that morning was blissfully quiet. That is, until the customer service desk bell went off. I didn’t want to look to see who it was. Especially if it was Erica. With one whiff of Thorn she’d be pining for a bitchfest of epic proportions.
When I couldn’t take the ringing anymore, I left the business office and noticed a witch around my age playing with the ringer on the desk. I didn’t recognize her, but she had a casual air about her. She flipped her chestnut bob back and smiled as I approached. Not too much perfume, but a pleasant dab of something expensive and tasteful. I wondered if she’d been around werewolves before. Most folks bathed themselves in the stuff without thinking about the noses around them.
“Hi,” she said. “I corresponded with someone regarding an item I found online.” She whipped out her Black-Berry and typed furiously on it. My goodness, I had a phone, but the most I did with it was place calls. She swiveled her hand around to show me a picture of the ornament she was referring to.
“I called about the Santa’s Big Breakfast Christmas ornament. I saw it on your website a month ago, and I thought it’d be a perfect present for my friend. She goes crazy for anything related to breakfast.”
I grinned and thought, She isn’t the only one crazy for that thing. I knew exactly where it was on the floor. I’d ogled it every time I passed it. In fact, I’d almost bought it, until an e-mail from a Tessa Dandridge up in New York City inquired about it. I could have said no and hoarded the thing like that Golem from the Lord of the Rings, but my customers came first.
She leaned forward and smiled. “It’s still available, right?”
Willpower, could you kick in right now, please? Customers needed to come first. “Of course. Isn’t he cute? Let’s go take a look at him.” Part of me screamed, Santa’s Big Breakfast should be mine! I’ve had a bad day, and he should be part of my collection at home to make up for the hell I was about to endure. Would she appreciate him? Or should I ask, would her breakfast-crazed friend protect his wooden table with a plate of pancakes stacked in a precarious manner? I didn’t think so.
We walked over to the display case for small trinkets. I blurted, “Are you sure she’ll like it? I have plenty of shiny wands I’m sure she’d love.”
“Oh, no. She gets wind-witch wands from her family in Chicago for her birthday every year. She donates them to charity all the time. I mean, who’d want a wand simply because it’s shiny? For all you know, the thing could cast spells to make mud pies.” Then she slowed down as she spied the ornament.
“There it is! So adorable.” Her face wore the same expression as people do when they saw a cute baby. She had great taste in clothes and ornaments, but I didn’t see myself tolerating her presence for hours on end.
Of course, Thorn would pick this time to walk in. My body softened, and I hoped he wouldn’t look my way. Especially after what I’d done. The witch’s eyes left the display case to follow my brief glance. She gave a short assessment. “Not married. And quite attractive.”
I eyed her and tried to fight the surge of jealousy. Had she set her sights on him as well? “What kind of comment is that?”
“I’m a matchmaker. With your eyesight you would’ve caught it as well if you looked for such things. He’s not my type, but I can see he’s yours.” She leaned against the display case with a wide grin.
“He’s a friend from a few years ago.”
“I beg to differ on that one.”
“You just met me. What makes you think you can stand here and figure out whether I find a guy attractive?”
From across the room, I heard Thorn whisper a few words to Bill and then walk out the door. But before he left, he paused. I almost waited for him to turn around. To at least glance my way. But it was best to at least try to be strong under the circumstances. So I focused on my customer.
“Should I scrape you off the floor now or later?” the witch matchmaker asked with a knowing smile. She pulled an imaginary piece of lint from her mauve-colored coat.
“I just glanced at him—that’s all.” I had no plans to broadcast my pain to some stranger.
“Look, I’ve been matching people for several years now. I can tell you like him. You might’ve thought you stood there, but you didn’t. While you were trying to play coy, he got an eyeful of you that would’ve made me want to check out his wand if he had one.”
Damn. So he had looked at me. I tried to pull myself together, but the woman read body language like a sharp-eyed werewolf.
“Th-there’s nothing between us—not anymore.”
She snorted. “Yeah, and you’re just good friends. Isn’t that what you said?” She tapped the display case. “Is the price the same as what was advertised on the Internet?”
I wasn’t ready to let the subject die. “We’re just friends.”
Tessa stood up and rested her hands on her hips. “Can you stand there with a straight face and tell me you wouldn’t say yes if he asked you out right now?”
“He’s engaged.” I reached for reasons, and they came quickly. “Her name is Erica, and I’m sure they’ll have a happy life together with lots of kids.”
She tilted her head and waited. Damn, she was good.
“Yes, Thorn and I have a history, but we’re not in a position to act on it.” I glanced at the door and hoped she didn’t see it. “We can never be more. Not ever.”
“Is that what you want? Is that what he wants?”
I bit my lower lip and pushed a tray of fake costume jewelry on the counter two inches, into its proper place. “What I want doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Who says so? Someone important?”
The Code said so. The pack’s well-being said so. Didn’t she have a purchase to make? I may have desired Santa for my collection, but this intrusive witch scratched my hide the wrong way, and I wanted her to leave.
“You deserve happiness like everyone else.” She flashed me a bright smile, and I couldn’t help but return it. “You should grasp the bull—errr, wolf—by the tail and go after what you want.”
I shook m
y head. I’d already made my choice and couldn’t go back. It was time to focus on the store. Where was the incessant stream of customers who bothered me all the time? Of course, for this brief moment in time, the witch had me on the spot without interruptions.
“Do you want to be alone?” she asked me. “Is that the way you want to live? ’Cause if I had a man like him around, I wouldn’t want to be alone.” She opened her pocketbook and retrieved a card. “Look, you may not want to do it, but even shy people can connect with others. Here’s my card. Give me a call at my office and we can talk. You seem like a nice woman. A bit eccentric—but as a witch, people could say the same about me.”
“Thanks.” I traced my fingers along the glossy letters of the card.
“No problem. And keep your head up! You need to go after him if your heart’s in it. Or at least start dating. Happiness these days is yours to have, if you want it. Life’s a journey that’s meant to be shared with someone else.” She peered into the display case again.
I tucked her card into my pocket. Time to buck up, think about taking her advice for the future. The trials would pass, and I’d need to reevaluate my life after that. “Would you like the ornament gift-wrapped?”
“That would be fabulous. Danielle will love it!”
The trip home from work was a quiet one. There was no need to hurry. Tomorrow I’d have enough to stress about, what with the trials. Why rush to meet my doom?
When I reached my house, Aggie had already come home and left. I didn’t see a note either. I guessed she’d make an appearance after spending some quality time with Will.
I ventured outside to get some firewood. Might as well start a fire and make some s’mores like I usually did.
With all the quiet around, I never saw the strike coming. Like Thorn often does, she seemed to appear out of nowhere, a blonde wraith with bouncing curls—and a solid swing of her iron crowbar against my thigh.
Chapter 25
For the rest of my life, I’ll never forget the sound of my bones breaking, my flesh tearing open from the splintered bits. The choked sounds from my mouth as the agonizing pain shuddered through me.
Erica stood over me, her eyes venomous. “When burned, a lesson learned,” she purred.
To add to the fun, that evil, vindictive bitch lit a match and burned my hand with it. I guessed she had to back up her little “lesson” with the real thing. She circled around me before tossing her crowbar in the snow. Then she kicked me in my ribs. Her steel-toe boots hurt like hell.
I tried to suck in a few breaths, but she grabbed my hair and brought me up to look at her. “I told you over and over again to stay away from him. I guess you’re too stupid to figure it out.”
She was silent for a moment, but that didn’t last for long. “Since you’ve fallen down, I don’t expect you’ll show up at the trials. And if you tell Thorn about our little talk, I might just have to visit your brother and his family after I become Thorn’s mate.” The sneer on her mouth grew. “Perhaps all the Stravinskys deserve my special treatment?”
Something in me snapped. “If you touch them—”
“Shut up!” She placed her boot on my shattered leg, and daze-inducing white pain arched through me.
I yelped like a wounded pup.
She released my hair with a vicious jerk and then retrieved her crowbar. Shocked and dizzy, I stared at the growing red spot on the snow. The pool built—all of it from me. I could almost feel the pull of my body attempting to close the wound. To keep my lifeblood from seeping out of me.
“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t show up.” She tapped the crowbar in her hands a few times. “Though, with that nasty break, I don’t think I’ll have to worry about you, will I?”
I didn’t look at her as I slowly shook my head. The wolf inside wanted to lash out at her. To scratch that self-serving smile from her face. But the human part of me had been broken. Erica had finally won.
She stared me down and then left. I should’ve watched her walk away, so I could glare at her, but the only thing that came to mind was my new burden. A much-deserved one.
Another sacrifice. Another price to be paid, and another secret to be kept.
My trip to my car to retrieve my backup cell phone could be better described as a shuffling, zombielike motion. Every hop hurt enough to make black dots dance in my peripheral vision.
I had to give that woman credit. She knew exactly where to hit me and how much force was necessary to break—or should I say splinter—my tibia. How studious of her!
Out of all the bones in the body, she chose to injure the one that would take the longest to heal. A break that would’ve killed a human, due to excessive blood loss. She’d made a solid hit to the largest bone in the leg—a blow that would debilitate any wolf for about a week.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a week to recover.
A strange laugh escaped my mouth. I never expected things to end like this. Not in this nauseating manner, as I limped to my car, barely able to breathe. I was supposed to have a fighting chance to enter the pack.
My hand shook as I fumbled the door open. My breath came out in wet gasps. A dampness I didn’t want to think about soaked my pant leg. It was just more evidence for me to clean up. Using my arms, I precariously tried to lean into my car while not touching the inside with my filth. The very thought that I’d get blood all over my seats was enough to make me start panting faster.
Normal people wouldn’t care, I tried to tell myself. Normal people just let things go. (Especially when they were dying, damn it!) But I couldn’t reason with the rising anxiety or the painful whimper from my indecisiveness. The pain of knowing I needed serious help versus that incessant reminder of the consequences of my actions.
Do you know how much you’ll have to clean? (Screw the cleaning!)
Are you thinking about the germs? (I’m dying here!)
Blood draws vermin. Vermin bring disease, they cause infection. (To hell with infection. To hell with the vermin. Pick up the damn phone.)
I closed my eyes and snatched the phone. My fingers flew over the keys to dial a number. But I stopped before I hit the CALL key. When I opened my eyes, I realized the number I’d dialed and knew what would happen if I talked to him. Nothing good.
Somehow, I cleared out the number and dialed the person I should’ve called in the first place.
“Nat?”
I could barely hear him over the sounds of music and a crowd. All the external noise bled into me, and I held the phone away from my ear. Or maybe my grip had faltered. I wasn’t sure which.
“Help me … Please.” My voice sounded dry.
“Where are you?” The music sounded softer. His voice farther away.
My lips moved, but nothing came out.
“Don’t move,” his voice was urgent. “I will find you.”
My legs wobbled, and then the ground came at me fast. Face-first. The last thing I heard was Nick’s voice.
“I will find you. I promise.”
A warm hand caressed my cheek. Then it traced a curved line over my eyebrow.
I heard a voice mumbling something. A phrase on rapid repeat.
“It’s all dirty. It’s all dirty. It’s all dirty.”
The hand moved from my eyebrow down to my lips. The voice was silenced. Mine.
A sensation—like the warmth of fresh honey for bread—coursed over my leg. It was strange compared to the cold of the snow. I felt the warmth of the body that wrapped its black coat around me.
The heat turned into a smoldering fire that blanketed me until I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. I swam within it. Reveled in the comfort of forgotten pain.
“Open your eyes, Natalya.”
I blinked twice and then opened them. Nick sat next to me on the ground. His coat was over me, protecting me from the cold snow that fell. One of his hands rested on my thigh, while the other brushed against my face.
“What happened to you?” I didn’t answer. His nex
t question came a bit later. “Who did this?”
“I was attacked. But you don’t have to worry about that—I managed to get in a few hits.” Even as I said it, my voice croaked a few times. I wasn’t fooling him.
“Was anyone else hurt?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Just me.”
“Who did this?” He said again. This time more forcefully.
“Please don’t ask anymore.”
His mouth formed a thin line. “I could force you to tell me.”
“You could, but you’d hate yourself afterward.”
Should I feel bad that I’d used his valor against him? Perhaps so. Perhaps not.
Nick was silent for a while, and I assumed I’d won. Then he ended my happy moment by saying, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to heal this break.”
He’d healed me over and over again. Just like the other times, beyond the feelings of healing and protection, he always made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world. Even after I’d turned him away on Christmas, he’d come for me. My mind flashed to our time in the truck when he’d held my hand. How he’d always found a way to make the impossible … possible.
“Can’t you just use more magic? Another wand?” Wasn’t that what those spellcasters used when they were in a bind? It wasn’t as if he could use me to boost his magic. I was as useful as a broken can opener.
I sort of knew the answer to my question, but he gave it to me anyway, “Magic doesn’t work that way.”
“So how does it work?” I whispered. Every time I’d whispered the spell from Grandma, I’d wondered what the trigger was. What did the spell do and how could I make it happen?
“Magic comes from within or from another source. If it’s from another source, they must be touched by magic as well—like the transformation magic that shape-shifters have.”
I nodded. “So my source of power lies in my ability to transform.”
“Yes, but even if you do have that ability, you must understand that to harness it, you have to put in what you expect to get out. An equal exchange.” He sighed. “I don’t have any staffs and what I need from inside of me isn’t enough.”
Kept Page 23