“This dress would be perfect for my date with Ryan,” Sam said, holding up a black mini with a sequined waist.
“I thought the dress you bought at the last store was for your date with Ryan,” Angela said.
“No, that was for my date with Chad,” Sam corrected.
Angela laughed. “I can’t keep up anymore.”
“Feel free to pick up my slack anytime, Ang,” Sam said, smiling and wiggling her eyebrows.
“No thank you. Besides, once you go out with these boys, they’re hooked. They follow you around like you’re the Pied Piper.”
“I know. Poor things,” Sam sighed dramatically.
Angela and I grinned and kept browsing. We were at the mall, dress shopping for the dance I was thinking more and more of not attending. George would’ve insisted, for social standing, if nothing else. But I was actually free to decide for myself, and the thought of going alone just didn’t appeal.
“I’m going to try this black one on,” said Sam. “Tara, can you hold my bags?”
“Sure.” I took the four bags from her, set them on the floor nearby, and plopped into a chair. This could be a while. Sam was a serious shopper—no such thing as browsing. Everything about Sam was that way. Impulsive, indulgent, and fun—always fun.
“Hey, Ang, you never told me how your date with Dave went,” I said.
“It was really great,” Angela said, her smile turning a little dreamy. It was sort of fun to watch; Angela never looked dreamy.
“Are you going out again?” I asked.
“Yeah, he asked me to the dance.”
“Oh. My. Goodness. Did I just hear that Angela the Librarian has a date? Like a real date with a real guy?” Sam called from the dressing room.
“Ha-ha, Sam,” said Angela.
“Well, hot damn, how exciting is this! Is he a good kisser?” she called back, in a loud voice.
Angela’s face turned red, and she glanced around the store, adjusting her glasses. “Can you be any louder, Sam?”
“Probably.” The latch unhinged and Sam stepped out, the little black dress hugging her like a glove. “Okay, what do you think?”
I whistled. “Wow.”
Angela nodded in agreement. “Definitely a show-stopper. How short is that thing?”
Sam twirled slowly, inspecting herself in the small mirror. “Short enough, I’d say. You wanna borrow it, Ang?”
Angela’s cheeks reddened a little. “I’m good, thanks.”
“I’m getting it,” said Sam. “What about you, Tara? You haven’t even tried anything on.”
“I don’t think I’m going.”
“What? Why?”
I realized I’d forgotten to tell her. “George and I broke up.”
She leaned down and put her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Tay. Are you okay?” She pulled back and looked down at me sympathetically.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I think it was the right thing. But he doesn’t agree—or seem to be accepting it.”
“Okay, that’s it. You have to get something new,” Sam declared. “If you’re going to be boring and not get a new dress, at least get a new pair of jeans. You know, the ones that squeeze your butt like a vise and you have to lay down to zip.” She wiggled an eyebrow. “It’ll make you feel better.”
I laughed. “I do not want a pair of jeans that cut off my air supply. And if I change my mind, I’ll be sure to borrow them from you.”
“Fine. But I’m going to change and then we ARE going to find you something new. It’s a rule. After a breakup, you have to buy new clothes.”
“Fine,” I agreed.
We waited while Sam changed and then spread out and wandered through the racks.
“Tara, this is cute, come see,” called Angela a moment later.
I wandered over for a closer look and froze. It was a hoodie, with the face of a wolf on the front. Even worse, its face was split in two, one half on each side of the zipper. I tried to keep my expression neutral while I mentally cringed. “I think I’ll pass.” I moved away as quick as I could.
“What about this one?” Angela called again, this time holding up another. This one was a myriad of different shades of a single color: green.
“Perfect,” I said, taking it out of her hands.
“It doesn’t have anything on it,” Sam argued.
“Which means it’ll go with everything,” I argued back.
Sam rolled her eyes.
By the time we reached the food court, I realized I was in a good mood and the most relaxed I’d been in days. Normalcy agreed with me, something I’d seriously taken for granted up until forty-eight hours ago. Maybe, despite everything that had happened, nothing needed to change for me after all. Maybe nothing like it would ever happen again, which also meant I’d probably never see Wes again. And just like that, my good mood evaporated.
On the way out to the car, I saw that clouds had rolled in, painting the sky a dismal shade of winter gray. A dampness in the air made the chill feel heavier. I pulled my coat tight around me and kept my head down.
We’d almost made it to the car when I felt it. My skin prickled and tingled in warning, giving me the feeling of something crawling on me. I shivered and spun around, fully expecting to see a wolf lurking somewhere between the parked cars, but when I turned, there was nothing there. I kept searching, spinning a full circle, as my eyes looked for any movement, furry or otherwise. Nothing.
I thought of my broken plunger handles, still under the bathroom sink where I’d stashed them last night. I should probably carry them around with me, just in case.
“Tara? Are you okay?” Angela asked.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw her and Sam watching me with confused expressions, but I ignored them and continued to scan the lot. “Yeah, I’m fine … just thought I saw something,” I finally said, giving up and turning back to face them.
“Like what?” Angela pressed. The look on her face told me I was coming off crazy.
“A bird, I guess,” I said lamely. I shrugged and climbed into the backseat.
“Maybe the breakup is bothering you more than you thought,” said Sam as she pulled the car onto the road.
I didn’t answer. I was focused on the creepy-crawlies I was still feeling. Thankfully, the feeling faded as we turned into traffic. I sighed in relief.
“Or maybe you aren’t as recovered as you thought, from whatever bug you had,” suggested Angela.
“I’m just distracted, guys. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“See, I told you it’s the breakup,” said Sam.
“It’s not the breakup,” I argued.
“You don’t have anything else going on, though. Unless … there’s someone else.” Sam stole a glance at me in the rearview. When I didn’t answer, her eyes went wide. “Ohmygosh, there is someone else. Who is he? Does he go to our school? Do we know him?”
Angela turned and eyed me. “Is Sam right? Come on, Tara, you can tell us.”
I hesitated, debating how to answer. If I didn’t tell them, they’d never let it go and would eventually get suspicious as to why I wasn’t talking. On the other hand, if I did tell them, choosing my words carefully, I wouldn’t feel so secretive. And it would feel good to have my girls to talk to about it. At least the parts I could talk about. “Okay, yes, Sam is right. I met someone. Sort of. It’s kind of complicated, though.”
Sam hopped around in the driver’s seat, somehow remembering to keep her hands on the wheel. “I knew it. This is so exciting. Tell us everything.”
“His name is Wes. We met two nights ago, at the pool hall. It was after George left. We talked and … hung out and then he gave me a ride home.”
Angela twisted in her seat so she could look at me. “Are you going to see him again?”
“Well ... he came over yesterday.”
“And?” Sam demanded. “What happened? Did you guys—?”
I didn’t have to see
her to know she was wiggling her eyebrows—her code for sex. “No, Sam, we did not. We didn’t even kiss. I was sick, remember?”
“So he took care of you?” Angela asked softly. I could hear the romantic wheels turning inside her head.
“I guess. We talked and just hung out. But, I don’t know if I’m going to see him again.”
“Why not?” Angela asked.
“Because he didn’t say anything about it. Everything he says is so … cryptic,” I sighed. “He did give me his number, though.” I didn’t add that I’d stared at the card so many times, I’d memorized it.
“Call him!” both girls shouted together.
I smiled. Despite the vague details I’d given, it felt really good to have someone to talk to. “Maybe. It feels weird being the one to call.”
Sam shook her head. “Guys like a girl who takes the initiative. You should call him. Tonight.”
Angela twisted in her chair again. “For once, I agree with Sam. You should take the first step and call him. He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to.”
I didn’t answer. The problem was he’d made it sound like I should only call if I needed him. Like, if I came across another angry Werewolf or something. But I couldn’t exactly divulge that detail.
Sam pulled the car into my driveway and turned. “Call him. We’ll be waiting to hear what happens, so call us tomorrow. No excuses.”
I smiled again. “Okay,” I agreed, on a deep breath. “Thanks, guys. See you tomorrow.”
Inside, I tried to slip by my mom with minimal questions. She’d been looking at me kind of weird since yesterday morning. I think she suspected something was up when I’d acted so confused over where I’d been the night I’d … fought Liliana. (I still didn’t want to say killed, even to myself.) So, I’d been trying to steer clear until I was convinced I could play it off effectively. Or until she forgot about it.
“Mom, I’m home,” I called out, dumping my jacket in the front closet.
“In here.” Her voice floated out from the back of the house.
I found her in the sunroom, bent over a flat of herbs she was planting. She looked up and smiled when I came in and I noticed a streak of dirt smudged across her forehead. Her hands were black with soil, seed packets spread out on the table beside her.
“Did you have fun?” she asked.
“Yeah, the girls got dresses for the dance next week and I got a new sweatshirt.”
She frowned. “You didn’t get a dress, too?”
“I don’t think I’m going.” I took a deep breath. “George and I broke up.”
She eyed me curiously. “Is that good or bad?”
I laughed at that. “Is this an ‘if you hate him, I’ll hate him’ scenario?”
She shrugged. “Not exactly, but I don’t want to tell you how sorry I am unless you’re sorry.”
I leaned against the doorpost and then straightened again when I realized who it reminded me of. “No, I’m not sorry. I feel okay about it. Like maybe we’re better off as friends.”
She nodded. “Good. I agree.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You do?”
“Yes. I see how you look when you talk about it or when he’s around. Or how you don’t look, I should say.”
“And how do I look?”
She tapped a dirty finger against her chin. “Friendly affection is how I’d describe it, I think.”
“Oh,” I said, staring at the flat of potting soil.
“I’m glad you told me about George,” she said, pulling me back to the conversation. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“I know. Thanks, Mom.” I started to turn away but her voice stopped me.
“I mean it, Tara. Anything. You can always come to me.” Her tone was more forceful than it had been a moment ago.
I searched her face, trying to unlock any hidden meaning behind the words. Did she know something about what was going on after all? Was this my chance to tell her?
Then she blinked and her gaze became unassuming. “Anyway, you should get some sleep. You’re probably still recovering from that bug.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m pretty tired.” I picked up my bag and started edging toward the door, still confused.
“You do feel better, right?” she asked, eyeing me with scrutiny.
“Much.”
“Hmm. I expected it to last longer with how out of it you were yesterday morning.”
I shrugged. “Sam was home with something, too, and she felt better today, so it must’ve been a twenty-four-hour thing.”
“Apparently,” she agreed, though she still looked a little unconvinced.
“Well, good night.” I turned for the door before she could say more.
“Good night.”
In my room, I sat on my bed with Wes’s card in one hand and my cell phone in the other. My heart was already pounding in my ears. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. This was ridiculous. Why was I so nervous? He was just a guy. And I was a badass Werewolf slayer. This should be a piece of cake. I repeated that to myself over and over until I was at least breathing normally again. Then, before I could change my mind—or hyperventilate—I punched in the number and held the phone to my ear.
He answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
My breath caught in my chest and I had to struggle to make my voice sound calm and casual. “Hey, Wes. It’s Tara.”
On the other end, there was a long pause. Then, “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just—” Well, crap, now what did I say? He seemed all business, driving home my original assumption that he’d only given me this number in case of emergency. But I was in it now and there was no turning back. “I was just calling to say hi, I guess. And thanks again for all your help.” Okay, I chickened out.
“No problem. Have you thought any more about training?”
“Um, I’m still thinking about it.”
Another pause. “Okay, well, I’m kind of in the middle of something, so I need to hang up.”
I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Right, sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll talk to you later, then.”
“Bye.” I disconnected and fell back on the bed, feeling like an idiot. I stared up at the ceiling, replaying the conversation a million times until I was convinced I was more than an idiot. I was inept. I’d never had a problem talking to guys before, but apparently that was just warm-ups. This was the big leagues now, and apparently, I sucked. I wished briefly I could be more like Sam, with her confident, self-assured attitude.
Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have felt so unsure of myself, but my life was hardly normal circumstances, anymore. Everything was changing so fast; it made me dizzy. It felt like someone had come along and pulled my legs out from under me. I didn’t even know if being a Werewolf Hunter was something I wanted. Then again, it’s not like I had a choice.
I rolled over and my eyes landed on a flash of red. My tattered silk shirt was still on the floor below me. I grabbed it and balled it up, swooshing it into the trashcan. Then I closed my eyes and waited for sleep.
~ 9 ~
Dirty Blood Page 9