Esperance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 3) Read online

  Sushna.

  She’d helped me—and then she’d also shown me firsthand why they call her The Witherer. Thankfully, Alex had caught up to me at that point and saved my ass when the pain hit me. I still hadn’t found out how he knew about Sushna. All I knew was that he’d been there before. She’d definitely recognized him too. But I still didn’t know much more than that and I was dying to ask. But not enough to hunt him down after the way he’d blown me off earlier.

  “No. He … Alex didn’t ditch me. I bolted,” I said quietly.

  I tried to go on but my bottom lip trembled suddenly. I pressed my lips together to make it stop and tears gathered, threatening to spill over as I relived how it had felt watching Alex almost die—and then walk away from me the moment he’d gotten his life back.

  Brittany reached for my hand, squeezing it as she leaned forward. “Sam, what’s wrong? What happened?”

  I shook my head again.

  “You can tell me anything, you know. I’m very understanding.”

  I tried for a smile but it was lost against the tears that fell against my will in silent tracks down my cheeks. “He’s, well, Alex was sick and now he’s better, I guess. But, something is wrong and I don’t know how to explain it or prove it. Not yet. I just… I don’t know. He’s a jerk and he’s also the nicest guy and I care about him way too much.”

  Brittany blinked, her mouth open until she caught herself. “We’ll come back to that,” she said and I laughed through my tears at how crazy that must have all sounded. Even compared to the existence of magic. “First things first. Show me the magic,” she said, holding her arm out expectantly.

  “You want me to show you…?”

  “Yes. You’re the one pissed that I was an easy sell so … prove it, sister. Heal me.”

  “But there’s nothing wrong with you,” I said.

  She gave me a dazzling smile and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been saying for years. I’m perfect.”

  I grinned and didn’t bother arguing. Instead, I grabbed her arm and, gently but firmly, wrapped my hand around her wrist. I took a deep breath to settle the flip-flopping in my stomach at Brittany’s expectant gaze. Apparently, witches got stage fright.

  But I’d been a bad friend to Brittany for too long now. And with my memory back—and more of my old personality—I realized I didn’t just need her. I wanted her friendship. I was done with isolating myself. It was time to be the real me with someone.

  With a surge, the energy inside me rose up. I sucked in a deep breath, half-terrified I was going to let it out and paralyze Brittany with it the same way I had with my friend Mason. But it halted right along the edges of my skin, softly bubbling there and giving me a tingly rush all the way up my own hand and arm.

  “Oh,” Brittany said and I knew she could feel something.

  The white light started a moment later, soft at first and then bright like a string of Christmas lights. Beads of white ran along my skin from my heart outward until finally lighting a path down my arm and into my hand.

  Brittany’s eyes lit up as she spotted the glow. “Whoa,” she whispered, staring wide-eyed at my skin.

  I smiled, secretly proud I’d been able to do this much without damaging either of us.

  My journey into the Obupa—a hidden, magical forest Alex had taken me to—and subsequent meeting with Sushna, the ancient elemental witch that ruled the forest, had been insightful. She’d shown me, through a roundabout and vague sort of language pattern, that I’d been approaching my healing magic backward. Healing happened when I removed whatever was ailing, blocking, or infecting my patient. Not by pouring so much of myself into them. That’s what had paralyzed Mason, my werewolf ex-boyfriend currently infected with the same illness affecting most of the werewolf population.

  I’d tried healing him earlier this morning and only made things worse.

  But I knew how to wield it now—in theory. Thanks to Sushna. And I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Now, I just needed actual hands-on experience with it.

  I held my breath and slowly, I reached out for Brittany’s energy, concentrating on pulling out any darkness there. I had just caught a sense of her—a yellow-white sort of halo around her body mixed with a swirl of softer purples and greens—when her breath caught and pulled herself free of my grasp.

  “Wait.”

  “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” I asked, pulling back quickly and tucking my hand into my lap.

  “Shut up for a sec,” she said, cocking her head sideways, listening.

  I did the same but all I heard was the drip from the kitchen sink faucet that had been there since we’d moved in. Usually, I tuned it out but now it was the only thing I heard as we both held our breath and listened for more. Suddenly, Brittany shoved what was left of her wine at me and jumped to her feet. I managed to grab the cup before it dropped to the couch cushions and jumped up behind her, setting both cups aside as I followed Brittany to the front door.

  We huddled there, listening, and I finally heard something.

  “Sounds like a trash can knocked over,” I said.

  Brittany bit her lip and cracked the door, peering into the darkness. A moment later, I heard another sound. This one closer. And definitely not a trash can. This time the sound came from something living. Heavy breathing, maybe? Something wheezing? I froze at the distinct sound of nails or claws tapping rhythmically against the sidewalk. I craned my neck and stretched onto my tiptoes trying to see around Brittany’s messy blond hair still blocking the doorway.

  My heart pounded.

  Edie had promised the house was being guarded tonight. But I had no idea if that was true and who it was—except that I knew it wasn’t Alex or RJ—or how closely they were watching things. And if a werewolf attacked now… with Brittany standing here exposed…

  I couldn’t imagine it.

  And I definitely couldn’t live with that kind of guilt.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know. Probably the neighbor’s chinchilla loose again,” she said, peering through the frosted glass on the front door.

  The clicking claws got louder. Closer. Faster.

  Somewhere nearby, something growled.

  I reached around Brittany and shoved the front door shut, but not before I caught sight of a furry face sporting a pair of glowing yellow eyes fastened directly on me.

  The door shut with a thud.

  “Shit,” Brittany said.

  I braced myself. For questions, demands, and mostly for fear. But Brittany was calm and collected and not even paying attention to me as she bent low near the little end table by the door. She wore a look of intense concentration, and I watched her with disbelief. Her lack of surprise was like a warning bell sounding in my mind. She knew.

  Brittany knew there was a werewolf on our lawn.

  And she wasn’t afraid.

  Brushing me aside, she reached down into the basket of shoes that we almost never really used for the shoes we actually wore. Picking her way through the pairs of boots and slippers that had been there since we moved in, she dug into the very bottom and came away with a wooden knitting needle. She twirled it easily and then settled it inside her fist with the pointed end aimed downward as if she’d done it a hundred times before.

  “Britt, what the hell?” I breathed.

  “Listen,” she said, finally turning to me and ignoring my shock. “I need you to go into your room and lock the door, okay? Don’t come out until I come get you. Not for anyone or anything and no matter what you hear outside.” Her blue eyes were sharp and focused and unlike anything I’d ever seen from her. Even her posture and the way she moved was different. Surer. Stronger. Intimidating even. “Tell me you understand,” she said.

  I stared at her, uncomprehending.

  Again, I was struck silent.

  Brittany waited a beat and I could see the softening of her hard gaze as she watched my expression play out. I wanted to ask
her what the hell she thought she was going to do with a knitting needle—or who she actually was for that matter—but no words came.

  She followed my gaze to the weapon in her hand and held it up, saying, “Well, I couldn’t exactly store a spear gun in the foyer without raising suspicion.” Another beat of her silently searching my gaze and then: “Points for creativity?”

  Something hard rammed into the front door and I shrieked, jumping back in a flinch. Brittany sighed as if the whole thing was a big inconvenience rather than a terrifying attempt on our lives.

  Without waiting for an answer, she shoved her feet into her boots and yanked the door open. I stood frozen as she slipped outside, muttering words under her breath that sounds like “stupid” and “werewolves” and “better pay.”

  The door clicked shut behind her and almost immediately, a growl sounded followed by a high-pitched and angry shriek. I winced at the sound of claws against the siding and then a grunt of effort that I couldn’t see through the frosted glass of the door, try as I might.

  Another yell—this one a high-pitched curse—and another growl.

  I froze as a howl pierced the air.

  Brittany was out there. Alone. And this asshole was calling for reinforcements. I hesitated with my hand on the knob. I couldn’t bring myself to follow her instructions about running off and hiding out in my room. What was I, five?

  Besides, I had my magic. If I could just get close enough, I could heal the damned thing and end this whole violent scene. I could save Brittany who, evidently, was living a lie trying to save me. It didn’t matter that I still hadn’t actually healed anything. Or that I’d failed to do just that back in Guam and then again this morning with Mason.

  I knew how to now, in theory, thanks to Sushna. I just needed a guinea pig. Although, to be fair, the mammoth werewolf in my front yard with nothing left but an instinct to kill was a bit larger than your average guinea pig.

  But it was all I had. And it was now or never.

  With a fierce yank on the knob, I pulled the front door wide and stepped outside onto the small porch. The scene that greeted me in our small front yard beyond stopped me short.

  The werewolf lay unmoving in the patchy grass, a dark stain around where the wooden knitting needle protruded from its neck. A scrap of fabric hung where it had caught in the claw of its right paw. Brittany knelt over the werewolf, her blond hair wild around her violent blue eyes and flushed cheeks. Her jeans were torn and her shirt was shredded at the left sleeve but I didn’t see any blood.

  I knew enough about the supernatural world to feel relieved at that. If Brittany was what I thought she was, a werewolf bite would have been very bad for her. Its venom would have infected and possibly killed her. But only if Brittany wasn’t quite human. Only if she were a—

  “It’s okay,” Brittany said abruptly. “It’s dead.”

  The orange street light across the road sent slanting light and shadows across them both, but even so, I read Brittany’s expression easily. This hadn’t been an accident. And Brittany was exactly what I thought she was.

  “You okay?” I asked, stepping slowly forward.

  “I’m fine.” Irritation flashed but turned fast to annoyance. “I told you to stay in your room.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not great with authority figures.”

  She snorted and rose, reaching out for her knitting needle and pulling it free from where she’d buried it in the wolf. It made a squishy sound that had my stomach turning. I looked away as she wiped it clean on the animal’s fur.

  “You want to tell me how long you’ve known about werewolves?” I asked.

  “Only as long as I’ve been a hunter, so… since I was born?” She winced at her own joke.

  I shook my head. “Britt…”

  “I’m sorry for lying,” she said, dropping a hand on my shoulder and facing me squarely. A smudge of dirt covered her cheek but otherwise, she looked unharmed. I was glad for that. It meant I could be pissed at her.

  Unlike some people who made me fall in love with them and walked around with terminal diseases that prevented me from being rightfully angry at them. But I wasn’t going to think about that now. Or about whether he knew my roommate was a hunter like him.

  “Don’t be mad,” Brittany added when I didn’t answer, and I focused on her instead of the memory of him. She looked like a damned warrior princess with her shining blond hair and bloodied hands.

  “I’m not mad,” I said. “Well, not a lot. I mean, you did just save my life but you’ve clearly been lying to me for a long time.”

  “Hmm.” Brittany tapped her jaw. “Fair. What if I agree to a full explanation? Will we be even?”

  “Depends on what the explanation is.”

  “I was hired to keep an eye on you.” She dropped her hand from my shoulder and held it up, rushing on before I could sling accusations for that. “Okay, wait, hired is the wrong word. I was already coming to school here anyway and when Tara found out, she asked me as a favor and I said yes. I never took any money for being your friend, Sam. And I never stuck my nose in where it didn’t belong. I swear it.”

  “You were reporting to Tara Godfrey?” I asked and my thoughts raced back to the conversations she and I had shared since Wes had restored my memory a couple of months ago. I did vaguely remember her saying that she’d kept tabs on me as best she could to make sure I was okay. She’d conveniently left out the part about staging my roommate and arranging for her to spy on me.

  Anger rose but not for Brittany as much as Tara. Every time I tried forgiving her and letting the shit go, some new secret came to light. I was so sick of secrets…

  “She was worried about you after your memory wipe thing.”

  “So you knew why I was different?” I demanded, my voice rising.

  Brittany held up her hand in defense. “Not entirely. I mean, I assumed from what she said that something had changed, but I couldn’t know for sure. I only knew one version of you—up until a month ago anyway. And can I just say that I like who you’re becoming since they gave you all your pieces again?”

  “No you cannot,” I said, irritated.

  “Well, you’re much better for the record. You don’t care if I leave dirty dishes around and you’re not constantly jumping at your own shadow and you dress way better now too.”

  “So glad to know I have your approval.”

  I knew she was trying to lighten the mood but I just couldn’t get there. Not with more secrets and lies at my expense. And not with a dead werewolf sitting on our front lawn.

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “You’re not the only one who has to apologize.” My voice was hard and I sort of regretted it since Brittany wasn’t the only one at fault here. Not to mention, she wasn’t the only one of us that had lied to the other.

  Brittany’s expression fell. “Sam, you have to believe me. I’m not a traitor. I only reported back to her that you were safe and healthy. Nothing more.”

  “That’s it? You didn’t do anything else for Tara besides confirm my safety?”

  “Yes. Well … and I might have taken out a few feral werewolves along the way to keep you from being eaten.”

  “You what?”

  She held up the knitting needle, its wooden base now stained a dark red color. “Where do you think this other half of the set went?” I didn’t have an answer for that and Brittany nodded smugly. “Uh-huh. You’re welcome.”

  I folded my arms over my chest, but my anger for Brittany had cooled. The truth was, she had my back. Tonight and all along. Besides, she wasn’t the only liar coming clean. And I didn’t want to be a hypocrite. “So I guess we both had secrets, didn’t we?” I asked.

  Brittany sniffed. “I guess we did.”

  We stared each other down and I searched my own feelings as I thought about it all. Tara and I were trying to mend things. I understood why she’d done what she did to me in high school. Erasing my memory of being exposed to werewolves had seemed to h
er like the best thing for me. She couldn’t have known how it would backfire and change my entire personality.

  Sending Brittany to befriend me had clearly been her way of looking out for me and I could either be pissed about that too or grateful to have her in my life. Judging by the feral werewolf dead on my front lawn and me still breathing, I was going with grateful.

  Tara and I would have to work out the rest later.

  “So? Does the explanation make us even?” Brittany asked.

  I looked down my nose at the bloody piece of wood in her hands. “What are we going to do with it?” I asked, nodding at the werewolf.

  “Bury it, obviously,” Brittany said.

  “Obviously,” I echoed and laughed to myself that at least I knew a great place to do something like that. Thanks to Alex. This was the second dead werewolf I’d bury in my life. “Well, if I’m going to help you with something like that, we aren’t quite even.

  “What do you want?” she asked warily.

  “How about a full explanation and I can borrow your—”

  “Boyfriend?” she guessed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  I bit back a smile. “I was going to say car.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Let’s compromise. Leather jacket.”

  I snorted. “Throw in the matching booties and we’ll call it even.”

  “Deal.” She grinned at me and held out her hand and we shook slowly. “I like this new Sam-I-Am. You’re a witch and you have good taste in fashion again?”

  I grinned back at her. “It’s definitely the best of both worlds.”

  Brittany’s grin faltered. Her expression clouded. “Wait. Is that a Hannah Montana song?”

  I shook my head as I realized I’d been wrong before. Brittany was still exactly who she thought I was. It was nice to know some things hadn’t changed.

  Chapter Three

  Alex

  My knuckles ached and my fist throbbed in a strong longing to be smashed against something. I was so fucking done with pretending. For the past week, I’d gone to every doctor’s appointment Edie had ordered, done a full work-up of tests including blood draws and a physical and even a CT scan. I’d been compliant; done everything they’d asked. Not because I cared, but because it was easier. I wanted to be released for active duty again. I wanted to kill something. Years of living with an oppressive and alcoholic father had taught me quiet compliance was the best way to get what I wanted.