Vendetta slid her arms around Ethan’s neck, slicking the collar with blood. It was a strangely sexual movement. It didn’t match the child-like image in Reese’s mind. “Do you think I will eat you next?”
“I’m not afraid.” Ethan smiled sweetly. He wiped at her chin the way a father might for his daughter. “You may do what you want with me. My body and soul are yours.”
“But I smell your fear. Why are you afraid, Ethanu?” She bent and smelled his chest. She moaned as if the smell was more than pleasant. “I am so hungry.”
“I know,” he said and put a hand on the back of her head. “You may feed on me, my queen, if you wish it.”
Over her head, Ethan met our gazes. Please, his eyes begged. Please get Liam out of here.
Vendetta bent forward and sank her fangs into Ethan’s neck.
“Come lie down,” he said, gathering her up like one would a child. She didn’t remove her fangs. “Rest now.”
Violet shoved Liam up the staircase and pushed Reese up behind him. They fled as if their lives depended on it—and it was possible they did. No one spoke until they were in the pickup, rushing down the road at full speed.
“Christ,” Liam sighed, removing his scarf the way one loosens a tie. “I thought we were dead. I thought she was going to drain every single one of us dry.”
“You and me both, bloodsucker. Holy shit she’s terrifying. More terrifying than I imagined.”
She whooped and both Liam and Reese jumped.
“Take me to a bar,” Violet demanded. “I need a fucking drink.”
“Go to Setting Sun,” Liam said. “Drinks on me.”
“Is she going to drain him?” Reese asked. The world was beginning to solidify around her again. The blind panic seizing her left a cold chill in its wake.
“He’s all right,” Liam said. “But Hope is the second chevalier that Vendetta has killed.”
“What the hell is a chevalier?” Reese asked, having heard that word twice tonight.
“Like her personal servants. Uh, minions maybe?” Liam tried.
“Like generals in hell,” Violet said. “She created them to do her bidding. To protect and serve her.”
“Why the hell would she kill her personal servants?” Reese asked.
“She’s taking her power back,” Liam said, darkly. His moody gaze regarded the ocean waves.
“Does this mean she’ll kill Ethan too?”
“Someday,” he said. “But he was her first chevalier. I have a feeling he’ll also be the last one standing.”
As the Castle Cove lights came back into view and a feeling of safety enveloped her once again, Reese relaxed.
“The goddess is waking up,” Violet murmured from the backseat. “Any idea what that means?”
“No idea.”
“What shall we do in the meantime?” Reese asked, slowing at the four-way stop outside Crossroads.
“Drink like it’s the end of the world?” Liam offered.
Violet met her gaze in the rearview mirror, a wicked grin on her lips. “I can think of more than a few things to keep you busy.”
The End
Create a new story
Grayson: Do not go into the Western Woods
Sunday morning passed quickly with Nutella pancakes and cups of coffee. But then his parents went to the farmer’s market in Cliffside, which met on Sunday. Unlike the market that met in Old Town on Saturdays, Sunday’s market focused on street food and live music. There were more dogs and a playground. It wasn’t a bad way to spend a Sunday between May and October. On any other day, Grayson would’ve been thrilled to go to the market. He liked to buy hot kettle corn from a booth and walk around looking at the crafts for sale.
But today was different.
“I’m waiting for Reese to come by,” he told his parents, and they seemed to accept their son’s responsibility to the case at hand. They let him stay home without a fight.
“Want me to bring back some kettle corn for you?” his father asked. Grayson admitted that he did.
Once his family had left, Grayson spent most of the morning lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It felt stupid to keep his eyes open and gaping at the rough plaster like that, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Landon’s body tumbling in the surf, replaying how his moonlit flesh slapped clumsily at the shore like a beached animal.
And all the blood.
It had stained the sand, and dyed the frothy waves.
He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed.
A robust knock on the front door made him sit up in his bed.
He went to the window and saw a red pickup in the driveway. He rushed downstairs, hand on the bannister and found a woman on the porch, giving him a short wave and polite smile. “I’m Reese. We talked on the phone.”
She was pretty. Her hair was blond with the tips black. It was like she’d taken her hair and dipped the ends in an ink pot.
Her eyebrows were also black and her body was lean and muscular.
“Come on in.”
Reese stepped into the house, the polite grin remaining on her face. “You have a beautiful house.”
“Yeah my dad loves working on it,” Grayson said. Then he did what every child over the age of five knew to do when a guest came to the house. “Can I get you anything?”
Castle Cove was full of all sorts of creatures after all. If someone—or something—came to the house, the owners had to make an offering. Even if they thought they knew the person, they should still make an offering just in case a mischievous fae was wearing the face of a friend. Giving them food or drink meant they could not harm you. Otherwise...
“A glass of water is fine,” she said. She pointed at the round dining table. “Want to talk here?”
“Sure,” he said. “Be right back.”
He went into the kitchen and pulled a glass from the cupboard. He heard the chair scrape back in the dining room as he filled the glass from the tap.
In the dining room, he extended the cool glass toward her.
“Thanks,” she said, taking it gratefully. After a long drink she said, “As I mentioned on the phone, I’ve been asked to investigate what happened. They’re worried about the sirens’ behavior and want to make sure no one else gets hurt. Anything you can tell me about that night would be very helpful.”
Grayson noticed her remarkable eyes. They were metallic gray—like liquid silver.
She caught him looking and smiled. “I’m a shifter.”
“Cool,” he said, too quickly. He cleared his throat and tried to find his metaphoric footing. “Sirens aren’t supposed to come into the cove. At least that’s what we thought. The closest they were supposed to get was Heart’s Rock.”
“Bingo,” she said. “So what happened?”
Grayson recounted the night to her, starting with the birthday swim to Landon’s body thrashing on the shore. He left out the gory details.
“Did you—” the woman began.
Grayson knew what she was asking.
“I survived,” he said, plainly. “So did Abby.”
“Can we talk to her?”
A fierce protectiveness rose up in him at the mention of Abby. “I’m assuming you got permission from Detective O’Reilly?”
Reese flashed a patient smile, turning the water glass in her hand. “Yes, I did. She’s fine with it, but you can come with me if you want.”
“Yeah. Let me put on my shoes.”
Reese waited on the porch, overlooking the neighborhood with relaxed shoulders.
“Okay,” he said, stepping out and locking up the house behind him.
He climbed into Reese’s red pickup not knowing what to expect. But the interior was remarkably clean. There weren’t any traces of smoke or ash, so he guessed she wasn’t a smoker. No fast food wrappers or empty soda bottles on the floorboard. The dashboard didn’t even have dust on it.
In the middle of the bench seat there were some papers though, which she gather
ed up quickly before he sat down.
“Sorry,” she said, folding them in half and putting them in the glovebox with a firm shove.
Grayson put on his seatbelt. “I was just thinking how clean your car is.”
She snorted. “Yeah, she doesn’t look like she should be in such good condition, but I take care of her.”
Grayson pat the dash affectionately. “I can tell.”
“So where does Abby live?”
“Just east of Hyde Park,” he said. “In Hummingbird Hollow.”
“Got it.” She keyed the ignition and the car rattled to life.
Grayson texted Abby to make sure she was home. She responded quickly. He wondered if she’d been lying in her bed on her phone all day as he’d been tempted to. After all, she didn’t have an affectionate family forcing her to breakfast and dress. And he had a feeling that Landon’s loss might be hitting her even harder than it was hitting him—as difficult as that was for him to imagine.
“Don’t be—” Grayson began, but then he wasn’t sure how to finish. “Abby’s having a hard time.” He finished lamely.
“I won’t be an asshole,” Reese said with a smile. “I’m a bartender. I know how to talk to people.”
And how to listen probably.
They rode in silence past large, looming mansions that lined Hyde Park. The revival architecture and old live oaks thick with moss seemed to say old creatures dwell here.
The Hyde Park mansions were supposedly owned by the undead vampire clans. And with homes so massive, he imagined there was plenty of room for an entire clan and all their attendants to dwell within. Many of them even had second dwellings, what Grayson thought might be called a carriage house, set further back from the road.
Just east of Hyde Park, before the Castle Cove University border began, was a small neighborhood called Hummingbird Hollow. It had small, quaint ranch-style homes and postage stamp size yards. The pickup turned off Ruby Road onto Violetear Drive.
The front door was open as if waiting for them.
Reese swung the red truck into the driveway. “Thanks for coming. I think it’ll be easier for her to talk if someone she knows is with me.”
Grayson climbed out of the truck as Abby stepped out onto the porch. He saw her visibly stiffen at the sight of Reese. He wasn’t sure if it was because the woman was beautiful or if it was just seeing Grayson riding around with another woman but he recognized jealousy when he saw it.
“Come in,” Abby said, holding open the door.
Grayson squeezed her hand as he passed. The ranch-style house had a single floor with three bedrooms: one for Abby, one for her Mom and one for guests.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Abby’s question hung in the air.
Grayson noticed that the end of her hair was still wet from a shower. Her face was freshly scrubbed and dewy but it didn’t hide the puffiness surrounding her eyes. She’d been crying.
“Water, if you don’t mind,” Reese said as if she hadn’t just sucked down an entire glass at Grayson’s. Grayson began to wonder what kind of shifter she might be.
Abby gestured to the mustard yellow sofa in the center of the front room. “Take a seat.”
Reese tucked herself into the corner of the sofa and pulled a lacey pillow into her lap. Grayson sat in the navy armchair, crossing his leg over his thigh. The room felt a little hot, or perhaps he was wearing too much clothing. His long shirt was likely too much for the June heat.
Abby reappeared with a glass of water, extending it toward Reese. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Reese sipped the water then balanced the glass on her knee. “I’m here to—”
“I know,” Abby interrupted. She sat in the armchair beside Grayson instead of sharing the couch with Reese. Something about this made Grayson’s pulse quicken. He found himself looking toward her, tracing the line of her jaw and throat. “I spoke to my mom earlier. She told me who you are and what’s going on.”
“Great,” Reese said, visibly relieved. “If you could just run me through what happened that would really help.”
Abby looked at Grayson as if seeking his approval. Grayson smiled reflexively. In truth, the unexpected eye contact made his stomach drop. “I already told my part. It’s all yours.”
Abby recounted the night slowly with even more detail than Grayson had been able to recall. When she finished, Abby flicked her eyes to meet Reese’s. “Someone was using magic. A lot of it.”
Grayson’s heart kicked. He turned toward her, unable to hide his surprise. “How do you know that?”
Abby looked suddenly shy. That was another shock because the Abby Grayson knew was never shy, about anything.
“I’m apprenticed to the coven,” Abigail said plainly.
He began free-falling. “You’re a witch?”
“I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with it.” Her cheeks burned red. “Your parents are sort of—purists.”
Grayson felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.
Don’t screw this up, some part of his mind screamed. Some older, wiser part realized this was an incredibly important moment. The absolute last thing he should do now was make it about him.
“Abby.” He took a breath and tried to clear away any emotion that clouded his mind. “Not one person in my family would give a damn if you’re a witch.”
Abby wouldn’t look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on her lap. It hurt Grayson to see it. He wanted to reach over and grab her hand. He’d pull her into his arms and kiss her until she believed him. But Reese was sitting right here, looking at them with thinly veiled curiosity.
“So you could feel the magic?” Reese asked, clearly trying to break back into the conversation.
Abby found her voice. “Yes. There was a surge of it right before the sirens showed up. I knew something was up, but I was halfway to shore when I felt it so I couldn’t do anything in the water. Then once I got to shore—”
She licked her lips.
“Everything happened so fast after that.”
Grayson agreed. It seemed the swim to shore and Landon’s death had happened in the same breath.
Reese rubbed her knees. “Could you tell where the magic was coming from?”
“West,” Abby said without hesitation. “Somewhere along Canyon Road. But I can’t be more specific than that. Sorry.”
“You’ve been a huge help,” Reese said, standing. She finished the glass of water in a few gulps and set the glass down on a coaster. “I don’t have any other questions now, but would either of you mind talking to me again if I think of more?”
They both shook their heads.
“Cool. I need to go, but I’ll be in touch if I need you.” She turned her gray eyes on Grayson. “Do you want a ride back to your house?”
“I’ll take him,” Abby said.
Grayson tried not to break into an enormous grin at the offer.
“Okay then.” Reese gave them both polite smiles. “I’m off.”
They watched her exit the house and descend the steps. Once she reached her truck, they turned and faced each other.
“You didn’t tell Landon about the coven.” Grayson wanted to give her a chance to speak for herself, truthfully, now that they were alone.
“No.” Abby covered her face and sighed. “I didn’t tell him a lot of things.”
Grayson tried to give himself room in the face of all these emotions. He was disappointed that she hadn’t told him sooner, but relieved to know now. He was also honored that he now knew a secret that Landon hadn’t. But this honor was quickly blotted out by a rising tide of guilt.
“He would’ve freaked out.”
“You thought I’d freak out too.” He felt the heat rising in his cheeks.
“No,” she said. “I was looking for the right time to tell you. I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you a lot of things, actually.”
“What about now?” he asked. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, trying to dry the damp
palms. “Put it all on me now.”
She stood and gestured for him to take her hand. “Come with me.”
“Your mom—” Detective O’Reilly had a strict rule about no boys in the bedroom. Grayson had been adhering to that rule since he started coming over five years ago.
“She won’t be home for hours. There’s a lot going on in town at the moment, so she wants me here. I don’t mind being homebound as long as you stay with me.” She beckoned him forward, smiling. “Come on.”
He took her hand, noticing how cool it felt in his, and let himself be dragged into the back of the house.
Abby’s bedroom was an assault of purple. Her bed, an elevated twin mattress pushed into the corner against the left wall, had a fluffy bedspread and more pillows than the bed could comfortably hold. At the foot of the bed, running along the wall until the bed stopped it, was an enormous bookcase overflowing with books. A pile had been made on the floor in front of it. The subjects ran from travel guides to design tomes and book after book about architecture and engineering. Beneath the window beside the head of the bed was the drafting desk, with a half-finished design for a garden sketched in pencil.
The floor was clean, the books were neatly arranged on the shelves, and the closet took up the right wall of the room.
From the stack of papers on her drafting desk, Abby pulled out two sheets and offered them to Grayson.
He took them, reading the top line several times before understanding what he was seeing. Then he turned the page and read the other.
“You were accepted to CCU. And UCLA,” he managed finally. He was searching her face for comprehension. “For engineering.”
She beamed. “Yeah. And a half dozen other schools too, but these are the only two I’m seriously considering.”
“Why?” he asked.
“You know why,” she said. She stepped toward him. “Grayson.”
She took the papers from him before tossing them onto the desk again. She laced her fingers into his.
“Grayson, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time but I didn’t know how to tell you. First there was Landon and now that he’s dead the timing feels even worse. But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
His heart knocked in his throat. “How you feel?” he whispered.
Night Tide Page 27