Haunted
Authors: Amber Lynn Natusch
HAUNTED
by
Amber Lynn Natusch
THE CAGED SERIES
Caged
Haunted
Framed
Scarred
Fractured
Strayed*
Betrayed*
*working titles
See More Including Release Dates:
www.facebook.com/amberlynnnatusch
Copyright
Version 1.0
Copyright © 2012 Amber Lynn Natusch
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9849464-2-6
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
Published by Amber Lynn Natusch
Cover Design by Jamie Rosen
For my uncle, Warren Cooper Remple, my favorite person to share a bowl of popcorn with.
I miss you terribly.
1
“How is that even possible?” I grumbled, staring down my new enemy.
Precariously perched in front of the white porcelain, I found myself furiously rationalizing the state of the toilet so as to avoid actually having to address it. The task was unenviable to say the least, and I was none too happy about it.
Cleaning was never a chore I had much enthusiasm for, but after living with Cooper, my forced-upon-me roommate of three months, I’d learned to hate it even more.
Especially the bathroom.
Doing my best not to vomit my lunch all over the freshly mopped floor, I quickly and violently scrubbed the bowl then threw the brush away.
“
Men are
so
disgusting.”
As the quirky lyrics of “Laid” by James reverberated off the bathroom walls, I belted out the words while fishing out other necessary cleaning products from the vanity. I wasn’t worried about getting any noise complaints since I owned the building, and singing was the only way to make the task at hand tolerable. Not wanting to delay the process, I soon found myself bent over the edge of the tub scrubbing off dubious amounts of questionable material from its edge. While I rhythmically traced my sponge in circular patterns over a particularly dingy spot, my butt bounced to and fro in the air. I was alone, so I wasn’t concerned about my gluteal theatrics.
Apparently I should have been.
As I sang loudly (and poorly) into the white cast iron below,
an unexpected voice from behind me screeched in a high-pitched falsetto.
“
Puh-re-teeeeeeeeeeeee….”
It scared the shit out of me.
My head shot up out of the tub directly into Cooper’s chin, knocking him back into the toilet which he inelegantly flipped over. He landed hard on his ass, firmly wedged between the toilet and the wall.
“
OW! Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?” I shouted at him, rubbing the ever-expanding knot that was growing on the back of my head. “Ever heard of knocking? Perhaps shouting a greeting when you enter a room, and not directly into my ear? Jerk!”
Before Cooper became my warden, or “roommate” as he liked to call himself, he’d been in a horrible fight and nearly died. He was saved by a Healer, but had suffered some side effects, one of which was vocal cord damage. Apparently that needed to be scratched off the short list.
He groaned while trying to unfold himself from behind the commode.
“
You’re so jumpy. You really need to lighten up a bit, Rubes,” he retorted.
“
Glad to see your voice is back,” I said, sounding remotely sympathetic for a second before regaining my anger. “Where have you been?” I asked before cutting off his response. “Never mind. I don’t think I really want to know.”
He was wearing his clothes from two days ago and he reeked of the bar – neither were great signs.
“Out.”
“Clearly.”
“Jealous?” he asked, moving closer to me.
My only response was an involuntary eye roll as I barreled through him to get out of the bathroom. Cooper and I were far from friends with benefits, but sometimes, when he exuded a certain amount of sexual confidence, I found it best to be out of close quarters.
I stomped down the hall towards the kitchen. It was next on the list for rooms to be cleaned anyways.
“
I’m going to have a shower now,” he called down the hall at me.
“
I’ll alert the press,” I quipped as my eyes did another loop of their sockets.
“
Need to wash last night off,” he laughed.
“
I’m pretty sure gonorrhea doesn’t just rinse away, Coop. Let me know how that goes for you, though,” I retorted, knowing full well he was immune to human diseases – a little fact he let me in on before things started to go downhill.
His behavior had become increasingly erratic and destructive over the past couple of months. Once he got over the initial shock of being brought back from the edge of death, he started acting oddly. In fairness, I hadn’t really known him very long, but I felt I’d had a good sense of who he was. The Cooper I was left with just wasn’t fitting the bill.
He started staying out late and clubbing at first. Then he just stopped coming home entirely. He rarely slept, and when he did, he tried to do it during daylight hours only. He was restless, self-destructive and a general pain in my ass most of the time. The few times he
had
slept at the apartment during the standard night hours, he’d woken screaming and shaking in his bed uncontrollably. He would never tell me why. From the moment I'd met him he had always told me everything, eventually – especially when I didn’t want to know it.
I’d been trying to find a productive way to deal with him, other than screaming at him or ignoring his antics. Maybe it was a side effect of his “healing”, but unfortunately there was no one to ask. I couldn’t exactly take him unwillingly to a therapist and say, “So this is my friend – who happens to be a werewolf – and he nearly died from being shot with silver recently, until some crazy lady basically crawled inside him and fixed him up, but now he seems to be having PTSD and is whoring around. Any suggestions?” I was running out of options.
Sean and Sophie were conveniently in Milan, which was not so convenient for me. They were probably the only two people I could have asked, but they were gone indefinitely – perhaps forever. I hadn’t decided if that was to my betterment or detriment. Potato, po-tah-to.
The only upside to Cooper’s deteriorating behavior was that it provided an excellent distraction from the surge of emotions I was so desperate to suppress. The backlash from my imprisonment in Utah threatened to overtake me daily until his distress furnished me with something else to occupy my mind. Avoidance proved the key to my sanity for the time being, but I was no fool. Those seas were rising, and the levy was about to break.
2
“Are you sure you don't want me to put that coat aside for you, Ruby?” Ronnie asked, disappointment tainting her expression.
“No, it's OK,” I replied, turning my attention back to the rack of clothes in front of me. “I just bought that military one last month. Even I can only rationalize having so many coats in the closet.”
“Hmm, that sounds like nonsense to me, but it's your money,” she said, winking. “Hey, isn't Cooper supposed to be swinging by today?”
“He is. I guess he's running late,” I replied, hoping to avoid the topic entirely. I was starting to find the task of making excuses for him exhausting – Ronnie didn't really need to know his issues anyway.
I strolled through the store browsing through the racks, fingering some of the threadbare, vintage tees and staring at the wall of jeans. I needed more clothing like I needed a hole in the head, but it was just so rewarding to find the proverbial needle in the fashion haystack.
“Hmm…maybe some shoes?” I said quietly to myself.
I eyed up the wall display, debating whether or not I should make physical contact with any of them as that was sure to lead to a try-on followed by a purchase.
The phone rang in the background and I heard Ronnie answer, “Better With Age, what can I do for you?”
“Should be 'how can I dress you better?’” I muttered to myself.
“Annie…slow down. You're not making any sense,” Ronnie said, her concern audible. “Who? Tell me what happened!”
I didn't want to eavesdrop on her, but it was impossible not to overhear her conversation. She sounded worried, and I was worried for her. I glanced over to the checkout counter where the petite brunette was standing, but her back was facing me so I couldn't get a read on the situation. I stood awkwardly staring at the shoes, wishing Cooper would show up and save me from the whole thing.
Too bad Cooper was all out of the saving business.
“How bad is it? I mean did they catch it early enough to do anything about it?” Ronnie asked, her voice straining. “Okay, okay…I'll get out there as soon as I can.”
She hung up the phone slowly and didn't move. I had no idea what to do and started sweating at the thought of having to be useful.
Ronnie and I were friends of sorts, due to my undying commitment to buying everything in her store. We'd gotten to know each other over time and our relationship was growing slowly, but we weren't exactly best friends. I knew she needed help in that moment, but was clueless about what to do or say. Thankfully, she made the first move.
“Okay, so…I need to book a ticket. I guess I'll have to close the store, and have Peyta…,” she rambled, scurrying about behind the counter. “SHIT! Peyta…she can't go. What am I going to do with her?”
Her eyes met mine across the store, her desperation plain. In my discomfort with the situation, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“She could stay with me. I only have a couch for her, but I'm sure she wouldn't be any trouble.”