The Tenth Life of Mr. Whiskers

by R. A. Gates

Pucker Up Chapter 1

  “What are you doing out here?” Ivy asked her young friend sitting on the back steps of the boarding house. The wooden gate slammed shut behind her as she strolled through the back garden, her skateboard in hand.

  Danny didn't answer. His body shivered underneath his jacket, zipped all the way to his chin to keep out the April breeze. Being the youngest werewolf in Salmagundi, he recovered slowly after the regular transformations and the last full moon was only two days ago. She was thankful that the only monthly transformation she had to deal with was of the PMS variety.

  Black Converse crunched on the gravel path leading to the back patio. She slid her overflowing backpack off her shoulder and dropped it onto the patio steps, cracking one of the old planks. She stretched the kinks out of her back.

  Death by homework, she thought.

  Scooting Danny over, she sat next to him. The late afternoon sun hung over the mountains surrounding the Southeastern Alaska town, casting long shadows on the ground.

  The orphan boy's hands trembled as he petted Lieutenant Dan, the local three-legged stray cat. Danny brushed strands of blond hair out of his eyes and looked up at her. “I’m in big trouble, Ivy. He’s gonna kill me this time, for sure.”

  At first, she dismissed his dramatics as typical ten-year-old behavior, but then tears threatened to fall from his large, blue eyes and her heart dropped into her gut.

  “What happened?”

  “You know that antique rug in the parlor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, Athena said Mr. McGregor sold it today, to some dealer in Washington he's visiting this weekend.” He stopped petting the cat and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “The thing is, about a month ago, I accidentally spilled grape juice on it and hid the stain under the chair so he wouldn’t see it.”

  He was right. Danny was going to die when his foster dad found out. She'd seen her penny-pinching landlord's temper flare, especially after a few drinks. And being a werewolf didn't soften his disposition, either.

  “Has he found it yet?”

  “I don’t think so, but he’s gonna see it when he moves the chair and then I’m a dead man.”

  “What did Athena say to do?” She assumed he told the boarding house's only other tenant about his problem, considering he worshipped the ground she walked on. What was so great about Athena anyway? She was merely a narcissistic bitch who used her big boobs and Hollywood smile to charm her way into, or out of, any situation.

  “She said, 'Sucks to be you' and left for her date.”

  Yep, that sounds about right.

  “Danny!” They both jumped when Mr. McGregor's voice boomed through the house and rattled the kitchen window above them.

  His whole body shook as he moaned into his hands. He had never gotten into any real trouble with Mr. McGregor because everything always seemed to be blamed on her. Even though she was fearful for Danny, a small part of her looked forward to seeing someone else get punished for a change.

  “Come on. He’ll just get madder if he has to come looking for you.” She nudged his elbow and stood. Pausing at the screen door, she waited for him to follow.

  He reluctantly dragged his shoes along the scuffed wooden floor of the old Victorian house towards the scene of the crime. On the way, he mumbled a little prayer to spare his life. Talk about overreacting. But when they entered the room, Mr. McGregor's cold, dark eyes narrowed into slits as they homed in on Danny.

  Or, maybe not.

  Every line etched in the older man’s face from decades of harsh transformations deepened under his scowl. His chest rose and fell with each controlled breath. “Do ye have something to tell, laddie?” His Scottish brogue was low and slurred, but the anger was loud and clear.

  Danny froze. His eyes grew wide and his face paled two shades. He looked like he was going to throw up. Swallowing hard, he raised his chin to look Mr. McGregor in the eye and said, “Ivy did it.”

  That little shit! She opened her mouth to set the record straight, but by the way his legs shook in his jeans, she couldn’t do it.

  Throwing a glare at the little liar, she faced Mr. McGregor. “Yeah, I ruined the rug, sir. I was running late for work, so I covered it up thinking I’d clean it later. I must’ve forgotten about it. Sorry.” She stood there, completely still, trying not to set off his hair trigger temper bubbling under the surface. Even breathing too loud seemed risky as she waited for him to speak.

  Mr. McGregor regarded them both for a few moments, one bushy eyebrow raised, before uttering a word. “Danny, go to yer room, and shut the door behind ye.”

  Danny glanced at her, uncertainty in his eyes.

  Oh sure, now you worry about me. Where was the concern when you threw me under the bus? She nodded her head, keeping her thoughts to herself. He stepped away, watching her until he disappeared around the corner.

  Mr. McGregor loomed before her, like a bull before a matador, staring her down. His scotch-soaked breath hung in the air between them like a toxic cloud. She had to close her mouth to keep from gagging.

  “Ye did this?”

  Her eyes followed his meaty finger pointing to a large purple spot on the very beautiful but very ruined Oriental rug. She expected to see a spot about the size of a dinner plate, at the most. But no, Danny must have spilled the entire bottle of juice to get a stain so large. It was at least two feet across. “Yes, sir.”

  He stood there, staring. The vein at his temple throbbed close to the point of bursting and his worn face was so red, he looked like he'd have a heart attack right in front of her.

  She’d met younger, stronger werewolves in the past, but there was a feral glint in his eyes that twisted her stomach. Her fingers twitched, eager to grab the silver stake she would normally keep on her belt. Too bad it remained hidden in her backpack on the porch. Silver wasn’t allowed in the boarding house.

  “Are ye trying to make me look the fool? Do ye think I don't know the boy did this?” Foam gathered at the corner of his mouth as the tone of his voice took on a dangerous growl.

  Her body tensed as adrenaline sped to every muscle, preparing to put her childhood years of combat training to use. Or at least she hoped. It had been over a year since her last fight and she was rusty.

  His nostrils flared with each restrained breath as he waited for her reply. Should she stick to the lie or fess up? Deciding that a noncommittal, middle ground was her best bet, she shrugged.

  Suddenly, air heaved from her lungs as her body was slammed backwards into wall. Being drunk hadn’t slowed him down at all. A dense fog invaded her brain, shutting down any coherent thought. When the fuzz cleared a moment later, she became aware of his forearm crushing against her windpipe and her right wrist was pinned above her head. Fear flared up inside her when repeated attempts to draw more than a trickle of air proved impossible.

  Don’t panic, don’t submit. That’s what he wanted. Gathering courage, she pushed down the hysteria that sloshed at her calves like a rising tide, threatening to swallow her whole. She defiantly maintained eye contact with the crazed man, daring to call his bluff.

  “Ye think that ‘cause yer a witch, ye can disrespect me?” He leaned forward, pressing into her throat even more. “I will not be lied to in my own home.”

  An excruciating minute passed before she succumbed to the panic she bravely fought off. Frantic fingers clawed at his face. Too bad she had already gnawed all her nails down to stubs. Changing tactics, she pushed the heel of her free hand at his chin, stretching his neck. Her hand slipped when he wretched his head sideways and the side of her wrist scraped across his teeth, nicking the skin. How much longer could she hold out?

  She punched and kicked at any and every part of him. Then, a warm buzz, like a hive of angry bees, swelled inside her. Her magic ached to explode and end her torment. Gathering the will to ignore her choking, she placed her palms on his chest and released all the pent up magic in one blow. Power jolted from her hands like
shock paddles and slammed into the angry Scot, sending him and anything not bolted down flying across the room. He hit the wall with a loud crack and slumped to the floor.

  She collapsed, trembling and sucking air into her burning lungs. Books and loose papers coated the floor and the easy chair hiding the stain lay toppled on its side. Broken glass from fallen picture frames littered the edges of the room. A groan from across the parlor quickened her pulse.

  That’s my cue to leave. She scrambled to the open doorway as best she could. Using so much magic drained most of her energy but she willed her rubber legs to move. Werewolves were a sturdy bunch and it was going to take a lot more than crashing against a wall to keep him down.

  Heavy footsteps shook the floor as they grew closer. She pulled herself to her feet using the door frame and staggered into the hall. But before she was clear of the room, a strong hand clamped down on the back of her neck and pulled her backwards. She bit back a scream while attempting to tear off the fleshy hook.

  His nails dug into her skin as he forced her body down, bending her at the waist in front of him.

  She whimpered.

  He held her there for at least a hundred ticks of the grandfather clock as she stared at the dried mud splattered across the toes of his boots.

  “Ye owe me five thousand dollars,” he said in a raspy voice, his grip tightening. “One month ye have, or both you and the boy are out on the street.”

  “You can't do that,” she croaked. “No one else will take in a young werewolf.” Images of Danny huddled in a cardboard box in an alley flashed before her eyes.

  “Try me.” He released her with a final shove to the floor and walked away without another word.

  She waited face down on the dirty hardwood floor until she heard a door slam upstairs. She propped herself up on her elbows and sighed. Great. Now I owe Mr. McGregor money I don't have. Even if she worked extra shifts at the diner, and kissed major butt for tips, she still couldn't make enough in time.

  “Are you all right?” Danny cowered in the doorway watching her struggle to her feet.

  “Well, I'm alive.” She rubbed the back of her neck as she hobbled past him. Brushing the dust off her jeans, she lumbered outside to retrieve her book bag and skateboard when the phone rang. The odds that it was for her were slim, so she trod upstairs to drink a healing potion for her throat and get started on the hours of homework waiting for her.

  Just as she opened her bedroom door, Danny yelled out. “Ivy, it's for you.”

  “Take a message.” It was Friday. She was tired and felt like a wrung-out rag. The last thing she wanted to do was be guilted into working a late night shift at the diner tonight, even though she could really use the money. She trudged to the bathroom down the hall and then chugged down the last bottle of healing potion. The bitter taste lingered on her tongue as the liquid soothed her throat. The strengthening potion smelled like feet, but she swallowed that down, too, instantly perking up. Medicine, magical or not, always tasted awful.

  Closing the cabinet, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Underneath her dark curls, the red marks on the sides of her neck from Mr. McGregor's fingers glared at her. He’d surprised her with his speed as much as she surprised herself with her sluggishness. She forsaw grueling hours of training to get back in shape in her future.

  Unshed tears prickled her eyes as she stared at the little marks, reminders of how she let her fear take over. She was reckless, careless to let the situation get so out of control. A year ago she would’ve had him on the floor, begging for mercy. Of course, a year ago her entire life was different: her mother was still alive and she wasn’t cursed with magic powers. Now she was hunted outside Salmagundi’s borders. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing back the tears that begged for release.

  Maybe all that’s happened was some sort of cosmic punishment for what she used to be, used to do. All of her past prejudices and bad choices haunted her now. She couldn’t keep living with these ghosts constantly eating at her soul and robbing her of any happiness. If only there was a way to make up for her past.

  After a few calming breaths, she forced her emotions back down where they belonged. She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and blew her nose. From this moment forward, she was determined to redeem herself, somehow.

  As she washed her hands, a small cut on her wrist stung under the cold water. His teeth were sharp for not even being a full moon. She froze.

  He bit her. Indirectly, but his teeth still punctured her skin. And his saliva, with all its germs and magic, could’ve contaminated her blood.

  Crap. Karma strikes again.

  A moment later, rationale took over and she realized that she couldn’t become a werewolf because she was already a witch. The two different magics couldn’t live inside the same person. Duh. One always dominated the other and because she was born a witch, she’d stay a witch. At least she’d be spared the anguish of fleas.

  Danny sat on the floor, leaning against the wall across from the bathroom when she came out. “Your cousin Thing called.”

  “You mean Thane?”

  “Yeah, that's what I said. He needs to talk to you 'bout something important. He wants you to come over to his house right away.” He scrambled to his feet.

  She held in a groan. Thane was a fellow Senior at school and a nice enough guy, though a bit high strung. He discovered a lost letter in his late uncle's trunk that her mother had written when she was pregnant with her. Her father, Thane’s uncle, died before telling anyone he was a new dad, so nobody in Thane’s— and now her—family knew she even existed until three days ago.

  The last couple of days had been hell for her with Thane following her around asking a million questions to 'get to know her better'. They’d had casual conversations in the past, usually homework related, but now he wouldn’t shut up. She couldn't take it anymore.

  “I'm sure whatever he wants to talk about can wait until Monday.” She pushed past her door and headed to her desk to pull out her Trigonometry homework.

  “But,” Danny said as he barged in. “He told me he'd give me ten bucks if I get you to go over there.”

  She stopped. “He did?” How badly did he want to know about her childhood pets, or where she went on vacation?

  “Yeah, so go.”

  Sitting in her chair, she looked him over from head to toe. For once, he might be useful to her. “Is Garren going to be there?”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” She twisted the wide leather bracelet that never left her right wrist as she thought. “Tell you what. I'll go if you donate Thane's bribe money to the New Rug Fund.”

  “What?” His voice screeched out a high note. His eyes grew so wide that the whites were visible all around his irises.

  “You're the one who ruined the rug in the first place, remember? Besides, do you want to go back to the orphanage that kept you locked in a cage like a dog?”

  He froze in his step, terror reflected in his eyes. “I don’t wanna go back there.”

  Mr. McGregor may be son of a bitch, but at least he treated Danny like a human being. No cages for werewolves in his house.

  “If we don’t come up with $5,000 soon, we’re both outta here.”

  His shoulders sagged as he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Fine.”

  She grabbed her hoodie and skateboard. “You should've asked for twenty.”

  “Hey, Ivy?”

  She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and waited.

  “If you have a cousin, does that mean you're going to move out and live with him now?”

  Her heart cracked at the tremor in his voice. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  He smiled.

  “All right, out. I have to go earn our first ten dollars. Only $4,990 to go.” She set her shoulders to brace herself for a boring evening of interrogation and dragged herself out of the house to visit her new family.

  Pucker Up Chapter 2

  “You want me to do what?” Ivy as
ked. The first place Wizard Martial Arts trophy she had been admiring slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor. The clank echoed throughout Thane and Garren's bedroom as it hit the hardwood.

  “Kiss— Prince— Sebastian,” Thane said as he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking in protest. Green eyes peered through wisps of blond hair, accentuating the soft contours of his choir boy face. He was every mother’s dream for her little girl; respectable, handsome and totally non-threatening. But that wholesome, All-American-Kid persona he had going on was an act. Something sick and twisted lurked beneath the surface.

  She thought he wanted to discuss family trees, not disgust the hell out of her. The very idea was... was... just gross. On top of that, he had the nerve to roll his eyes at her. Her! She wasn't the one who had lost her mind.

  Garren, Thane's stepbrother, listened to the conversation from his bed. He sauntered over to her, picked up the dented trophy and placed it back on the shelf. He was the polar opposite of her cousin in every way. Arresting blue eyes, with the power to make otherwise intelligent teenage girls abandon all common sense, peeked out from behind locks of black hair. Add his sharp facial features and muscular build, he was who the daughters drooled over.

  One hand still on the ledge above her shoulder, he leaned in and flashed a cocky smile. “You should do it, Ivy. It might be the only chance you get to kiss a guy.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from responding to his childish jibe. She didn't like him being so close, afraid he'd see the bruises she tried to hide under her curly hair. After a brief stare-down, he turned and flopped down on his unmade bed. His cheap cologne lingered in the air, tickling her nose.

  She backed up into the wall and crossed her arms over her chest, obscuring the band logo displayed across her baggy, black t-shirt. She eyed each boy warily. “Is this a joke? Because if it is—”

  “No, no.” Thane threw his hands up in surrender, shaking his head.

  Her narrowed eyes regarded Garren, the boy who'd been the bane of her existence since she arrived in the small Alaska town. This could be one of his practical jokes.

  But Thane wasn't the type to tease people. On the contrary, being smart and a bit socially awkward, he was picked on quite a bit. He wouldn't go along with his stepbrother, would he?

  She turned to her cousin. “But Prince Sebastian's been dead for two hundred years. That's disgusting, immoral, and I'm pretty sure illegal.” Was she the only one who thought this was wrong?

  “Technically, he was cursed, not killed,” Thane clarified.

  “I fail to see the difference.” She turned around to crack the window open. The smell of sweaty socks and low tide made her woozy. “Are you guys storing bait in here?” She shuddered at the thought of what could be lurking under the piles of filthy clothes crammed in the corners. She stuffed her hands in her pockets to keep from getting contaminated.

  Garren glared at her. “No. My hockey uniform still reeks of spoiled halibut. I still owe you for that.”

  She smiled. That was one of her better pranks. He deserved it after announcing to the entire cafeteria that she was in need of a more effective soap. “You started it.”

  Garren moved to get up, but Thane beat him to it and stood between the two. “That's enough. Can we focus?”

  After clearing her head with fresh air, she ignored Garren as best she could and turned back to Thane. “Fine. Why do you want me to kiss a dead— excuse me— sleeping prince?” Not that it mattered since she wouldn't do it anyway. She was just curious.

  “Because I believe it will break the spell,” he said, settling back down in his seat.

  “And you want to break the spell because...?” What’s in it for him?

  Thane's eyes grew wide before he grabbed a folded up Salmagundi Gazette and shoved it in her hands. “Because the wards around the town are failing. I thought you, of all people, would be concerned about that.”

  She didn't appreciate his tone and snapped the paper open to see what he was talking about. Skimming the front-page article, she caught key words like 'secrecy wards', 'failing', 'solution', and 'reward'.

  Reward? That caught her interest. “I still don't see what one has to do with the other.”

  Thane took the paper back and slowly rolled it up, never taking his perplexed gaze off her. After an uncomfortable moment of his staring, a look of understanding spread across his lightly-freckled face. “I forgot you've only been here a year and don't know all the history. Legend says that Prince Sebastian set the original wards on Salmagundi to protect his lover from her scorned husband.”

  “And you think, if he was back, he could reset the wards, and we'd get the money for saving the town.” That made some sense.

  “You could even snag a date to Senior Prom next month,” Garren said. “I'm sure Prince Sebastian would be so happy to be alive again, he'd lower his standards for you.”

  That was it. She grabbed the closest book on the desk and flung it at him. He was so busy laughing at his own stupid joke that he didn't see it coming in time to shield himself. It nailed him right in the chest.

  Rubbing his sternum with one hand, he turned the book over and smiled. “Romeo and Juliet? Are you flirting with me?”

  Blood and heat rushed to her cheeks as her mouth fell open. Of all the books splayed on the desk, she had to pick up that one. “What? Absolutely not!”

  “Are you sure? Because this is a pretty romantic book—”

  She snorted. “Romantic? What's romantic about a girl killing herself over a guy?”

  He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he held the book in both hands. “She was in love,” he challenged.

  “She was an idiot,” she said as she waved away his lame response, ending that conversation.

  He reclined back against his pillows and opened the book. “Whatever you say, Ivy.”

  She leaned against the windowsill and brought her attention back to the reason she tolerated Garren in the first place. “So why do you think we'll be able to break the spell? I'm sure others have tried before.” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.

  Thane had a passion for experimenting and testing his theories. He had no problem disregarding the rules when they interfered with his test. Not only had he been arrested a few times, but banned from the pool for life.

  “You know how I've been researching my family line of Potion Masters?”

  Garren groaned. “Oh gawd, don't get him started.”

  She nodded and motioned for him to continue. He'd mentioned it a few million times already, but anything that annoyed Garren, she encouraged.

  Thane sat up straighter in his chair and grabbed an old, cracked leather book off his desk and cradled it in his hands. “About five years ago, I found a bunch of these old diaries that belonged to our great-grandmother Leviena, about twelve times removed.” He opened the book and thumbed through the yellowed pages until he found what he was looking for. He handed her the book.

  “Wow, it's in great shape for being so old.” She handled it carefully, not wanting it to disintegrate in her hands.

  “Don't worry. There's a preservation spell on it,” he said. “In here she mentions having a secret love affair with Prince Sebastian right before he was cursed.” He sat there, staring at her, as if she was supposed to already know the rest of the story.

  She glanced at the faded words and shrugged. “Okay, so we have an adulterer in the family. I don't see what that has to do with me kissing her boyfriend.”

  “You're going to have to explain everything or we'll be here all night waiting for her to get it,” Garren said as he pushed his black hair out of his eyes. The book she threw at him lay next to him on the bed, forgotten.

  She glared. “Why are you here again? Don't you have some cheerleaders to chase after?”

  “Nope. Taking the day off to rest my lips; chapped.” Garren said with a smile.

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. “What else d
o you have to tell me?” she asked Thane.

  “Right. Well, since learning all this, I've been reading everything I could to learn more about Prince Sebastian. Did you know he was a brilliant Potions Master? He discovered how to keep fire thistle from exploding when adding it to—”

  “We don't care!” Garren said, running his hands through his hair. “Just get to the part about breaking the damn curse.”

  “Everyone should care about all the contributions he's made, not only to the art of potion making, but spell creation, charms—”

  “You're obsessed with the man.” Garren said. “It isn't natural.”

  Thane rolled his eyes as he ignored his stepbrother and spoke to her. “I'm not obsessed, just fascinated.”

  Garren stood, walked to the overflowing bookshelf and pointed to each spine on the second shelf. “Prince Sebastian, Prince Sebastian, Prince Sebastian,” he said after touching each one. “It's like you're in love. Maybe you should kiss him.”

  Her head snapped back and forth between the stepbrothers, like watching a tennis match. She was glad they weren't talking about her kissing a dead guy anymore.

  Thane swatted Garren's hand away from the books and grabbed one. He set it down on the desk, cover side up. Love Potions and Curses. “As I was saying,” he glared at Garren, who'd sat back down on the bed. “I looked up different spells and curses to find out which one was used. I've narrowed it down to two and the way to end the enchantment is the same for both— True Love's Kiss.” He leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees.

  “That means he needs to be kissed by his true love,” Garren told her after a moment of silence.

  “Well, duh,” she said. “That still doesn't explain why you want me to kiss him. I've never met him, so I couldn't be his true love.”

  “Yes, but I believe Leviena was and she died before she could break the spell,” Thane explained.

  She glanced back down at the diary in her hands, filled with her ancestor’s deepest, darkest secrets. That has to be the saddest, most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard. “Bummer.”

  “So, I came up with a theory that since she can't kiss him any longer, being dead and all, maybe a direct female descendent can. That's where you come in.” He sat there beaming, like he was waiting to be smothered with praise. He'd be waiting awhile.

  “Can't you get another cousin to pucker up?” She still didn't like the idea of kissing this guy.

  Garren laughed. “Tell her the best part.”

  Uh-oh. She didn't think she was going to like anything Garren found so amusing.

  “That's another interesting discovery. You're the only female descendent of Leviena's I can find. And believe me, I've searched.” He took the diary back from her and laid it on the corner of the desk.

  “Wait a minute,” she said, her head swimming with confusion. “What about your sister, Cora? Why can’t she do it?” The twinge of guilt that arose from trying to involve the freshman girl was easy swatted away with the possibility of escaping all involvement.

  Garren’s earlier enjoyment fell away as he jumped to his feet. “No, no, no. Cora is my sister and we are in no way related to you too. Two totally different sets of parents.”

  Ivy raised her hands in surrender. “Fine, I get it. And quite frankly, I’m relieved to know you and I aren’t genetically linked.” She dropped her head back against the wall, her tongue playing with the piercing on her bottom lip. If she agreed to help Thane out, and it worked, then the wards keeping Salmagundi hidden from Eradicators—a secret organization of humans whose mission was to rid the world of all magic— could be repaired. If it didn't work, then all she did was kiss a dead guy. Gross, but harmless. As long as he wasn't decaying or anything, she could handle it. Maybe breaking the prince’s curse was what she needed to do to score some karma points and redeem herself. But, she had a sneaking suspicion this master plan wasn't as easy as Thane made it sound.

  “I told you she wouldn't do it,” Garren said as he flipped through the latest issue of Wizard Weapons.

  Grabbing the magazine from his hands, she plopped down on the opposite side of the bed. She needed more information. “So, where exactly is Prince Sebastian lying in rest?”

  “He's been moved around a few times since he fell under the curse, but the last location I've found is in Sacramento, California.”

  Ah, hell no. Of all the places in the world, he had to be there. “Well, boys, this all sounds real exciting, but I'll have to pass.”

  She bolted off the bed and to the door before they could argue. With a stomp on the end of her skateboard, it was in her hand as she reached for the knob, but she wasn't quick enough.

  Thane blocked her escape by barricading the door with his body. “Wait. Why don't you want to do this?”

  He towered over her by at least a foot, but she was a fighter and could easily take him down. But he had one advantage over her, Garren.

  Garren was six feet of solid muscle. Being an athlete, he was strong, and together they could possibly put up a good fight. It just wasn't good manners to beat up and humiliate her hosts on her first visit.

  She sighed. “Look, I'm not sure it's a good idea. Sacramento is crawling with dark creatures. Mean ones, from what I've heard. And where there are dark creatures, there are Eradicators.” She stood in front of Thane, arms crossed, waiting for him to move away and let her leave.

  Garren's warm breath tickled her neck as he leaned in from behind to whisper in her ear. “Where's your sense of adventure, your sense of justice, your sense of obligation to the town that took you in?”

  Damn it, he had to pull the guilt card. She turned to face him. He didn't back away but locked gazes with her, his blue eyes daring her.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He grinned. “You could be this poor man's only hope of returning to the living, not to mention all the people in town you'd be keeping hidden. And you don't want to help because you’re scared of some hunters?” He scoffed as if he thought the Eradicators were nothing to fear.

  Her fists clenched at her side. She wasn't going to let this jackass make her look like a coward. Facing Thane's pleading face, she said, “I'll think about it.”

  His worried expression melted into a broad smile as he stepped aside and let her leave. At least this bought her time to come up with a better excuse to refuse the mission. She’d find another way to pay Mr. McGregor and make amends for her past. There was no way in hell she'd ever step foot in Sacramento again.