Haunted (29 page)

“Try to can the physical assaults until you're up to it, okay?” he mocked.

I nodded in response, wiping the sweat the pain had caused from my forehead.

“Ruby,” Sean called, bringing my focus to him. “Tell me something. How is it, exactly, that you knew how to kill Gregory. I've been wondering that ever since it happened.”

“Oh. You can thank Scarlet for that one. She figured it out.”

“Scarlet?” Peyta asked, confused by this mystery person.

“Her wolf with the attitude problem,” Cooper said in an effort to clarify things for her.

While Cooper expanded on my darker half with Peyta, Sean looked at me quizzically, trying to figure out the logistics of how Scarlet could have been an asset in that situation. As far as Sean knew, I couldn't hear Scarlet in my head. I didn't want to share with him that since the healing I could, but I couldn't think of a better explanation for how I knew what to do.

“Ever since Sophie did her thing, I can hear Scarlet in my head as she can hear me in hers. We seem more...integrated,” I tried to explain. “Anyways, she put the pieces together. I kept seeing the Watchers solidify throughout the ordeal. She was the one that realized that it was only when Gregory touched Peyta that it happened. She coupled that with a conversation Peyta had with me once when she talked about their first kiss. She'd grabbed him and planted one on him. I guess he looked positively stunned when she pulled away and she couldn't figure out why at the time; she wondered if a girl had never been so forward with him. In hindsight I'm guessing it shocked the hell out of him because up until that moment he had only been able to call on her power to touch things, but nothing had been able to touch him.”

“Are you saying that Peyta's powers were great enough to truly re-animate him?” Sean asked, completely awestruck.

“It would seem that way. If they hadn't been, I don't think any of us would be standing here right now.”

It was a sobering thought, but the truth nonetheless.

“So what does that mean?” Peyta asked.

“I don't think any of us really know, Peyta,” I said. “But it makes you pretty kick-ass in my book.”

“Kick-ass or not, it's a question to answer another day,” Sean said dismissively. “We need to get Peyta's story together before her mother returns. Any suggestions?”

“Well, you weren't feeling good on your birthday, so that explains that night,” I pointed out. “That leaves Sunday and Monday to account for.”

“Yeah, and you have to have something good to explain why you bailed on your mom's fill-in lady on Sunday. I'm sure she's pissed about that,” Cooper added. “Werewolf or not, your mom scares the shit out of me. I'd avoid her wrath like the plague.”

We spent the next two hours ironing out Peyta's story. If any of us were asked, we would say that she was sick Saturday night and all through the day Sunday. Monday she had broken up with her boyfriend and spent the day in the park to take her mind off of it. She'd forgotten her cell phone in the car, so she didn't see any messages. The best lies were always peppered with truths to make them easier to remember for the liar, and easier to sell to the listener. We would all work hard to pull it off.

We all feared Ronnie too much not to – even Sean.

35

Sophie and Sean made their exits not long after Peyta's alibi was all worked out. Neither made any mention of where they were headed, and I wondered when Sean would return, wanting to go over my whereabouts when Cass was murdered. It wasn't a meeting I was looking forward to.

I let Peyta sleep in my room when she wanted to turn in long before Cooper and I were ready to. We were both exhausted but completely wired so we stayed up early into the morning, rehashing the events of the night.

“I'm still mad that I didn't get to kill that bastard,” I said, reflecting on Gregory.

“Guess it just wasn't in the cards for you,” he replied, smiling at me from across the couch. “It takes a powerful man to take down another powerful man.”

“Oh please, Cooper. Scarlet would have torn him to pieces,” I scoffed.

“Pure speculation, Rubes. You two will never know now. His dead ass isn't coming back a third time.”

“Hey, speaking of a 'powerful man', that reminds me. During his psychotic rant downstairs, Gregory said something odd.”

“Doesn't 'psychotic rant' imply that something odd would be said?” he mocked.

“Ugh, would you shut up for a second?” I asked, barely refraining from hitting him again. “He said something about being surprised that you were powerful enough to kill him. Do you know what he meant by that?”

“Not a clue.”

“You don't have any weird tattoos, do you?” I asked on a hunch.

“You have seen me naked before. Do you remember any tattoos?” he asked, looking at me with a cocked eyebrow and a little more heat in his eyes than I expected to see.

“If you remember correctly, I was studiously trying to avoid looking at you naked.”

“Hmm...sounds like your loss to me,” he said, lying back against the cushions. “But no, I don't have any tattoos.”

“Okay.”

“Why?” he asked, looking curious. “What are you cooking up in that head of yours?”

“Nothing. I just wondered if you were maybe from the same line as him. It would explain why you were powerful enough to kill him. He had a tattoo that he said all descendants of Romulus had.”

“Nope. I'm ink free, baby!” he shouted over his shoulder as he got up, headed for the kitchen. “Kicking ass makes me hungry, you want some popcorn?”

“It's like you read my mind,” I said, gingerly getting up off the couch.

“Fire up that flat screen of yours and let’s see what's on HBO. I don't think I can sleep just yet,” he called out from the kitchen, trying to be heard over the clattering noise of the cupboard doors shutting.

“I don't think I'll be sleeping at all,” I sighed.

“Hm...sounds like I'll need to make double the usual amount then,” he said, smiling at me over the island.

And just like that, things went from chaotic to normal in the blink of an eye.

* * *

I woke up on the couch late the next morning, curled up on Cooper's lap. He was still completely zonked out with his arms spread wide, wrapping around the back of the couch, his head extended so far back that he was facing the ceiling. It made him snore just the tiniest bit. I peeled myself away from him and sneaked out of the room and down the hall. My bedroom door was open, the room unoccupied. Peyta, despite everything she'd just been through, had the wherewithal to set my alarm and go pick up her mother at the airport. She really was something special.

I knew I needed to get my ass down to the store and assess the damage. I wasn't entirely sure that the blood stains would come out of the concrete after letting it soak in for a full day. After I got dressed, brushed my teeth and grabbed a banana on my way out the door, I wrote Cooper a brief note, telling him where I was so he wouldn't be worried. As I hung it on the fridge the memory of what he'd said before killing Gregory came to me. You'll never hurt what's mine again. It made me smile.

Sean had once said something equally possessive; that thought wiped my smile away. I sighed outwardly and crept out the door.

I was nervous as I unlocked the shop, unsure of what I would find. As I stepped into the showroom, I had a major sympathetic response. It was just like going through the day before to find Peyta – I was nervous, sweaty, and my heart was racing. Walking slowly toward the back, I forced myself to take each step. I had to face what happened there; I couldn't let it tarnish my psyche. I'd never had the chance to revisit the scene of my parents' death, nor my prison in Utah, and both haunted me still.

I would not let my own safe haven turn on me in that same way.

My hand pressed against the slightly-ajar door that separated me from my fear. Leaning into it, I took a cleansing breath and pushed it out of the way. I snapped the lights on quickly, too afraid to stand there for even a second in the dark. At first I was stunned by what I saw, but once the surprise started to subside, I realized that I shouldn't have been. The PC had come and done what they did best, aside from killing – they'd cleaned the place so that not even the slightest trace of the horrors that had taken place remained.

“These guys should really start a side business,” I muttered to myself.

My theory was further confirmed when I remembered that I'd never locked the entrance to the store. I'm not sure how they had a key to lock it from the outside, but I figured some things were really better left unanswered. I didn't want to know just how much of my life they had access to at the drop of a hat.

Standing amid the pristine room, I debated as to whether or not I was up to opening for the day.

“Better late than never,” I whispered to myself.

I walked back out to the front at the same time the entrance bells chimed. Cooper smiled at me over the top of the coffee carrier and paper bag of goodies he'd procured at the bakery down the street.

“Tell me it's a croissant!” I exclaimed, as I moved toward him as quickly as my injuries would allow me. “And if that's my ginger and honey tea, I might just hump your leg.”

“Then hump away my friend, hump away,” he replied, grinning uncontrollably while extending his leg my direction.

“Maybe later,” I reneged. “My abs hurt too much at the moment for that.”

“Rain check then?” he asked, his smile fading.

I pretended not to notice the change in his expression, longing for the days when I was truly clueless about the facial subtleties that spoke volumes. Being blind really did have some perks. Instead, I rifled through the little white bag for my pastry and literally moaned as I put it in my mouth; it nearly melted it was so soft.

“Oh, now that's good stuff there,” I told him.

He eyed me over the brim of his coffee cup.

“So it seems.”

“Don't be jealous, Coop. If you were a croissant, I'd wanna eat you, too.”

He shook his head as he pushed past me towards the counter.

“I decided to give you the day off,” he informed me. “I think you need to go upstairs and rest.”

“I think I'll be okay, Coop. I'm not feeling too bad this—”

He threw the paper bag at my head with some heat behind it. I flung my arm out to catch it, not wanting any of the other goodies to meet an untimely demise. As the pain seared through my gut, my anger at his little stunt tore through the rest of me. He'd wanted to make a point, and he did undoubtedly; I was still in rough shape whether I wanted to admit it or not.

“Fuck, Cooper. Was that really necessary?”

“You're so stubborn, Rubes. I didn't think you'd listen to reason,” he said as he rushed to my side. I'd dropped the bag and my croissant as I collapsed forward, doubling over to grab my stomach. He managed to catch me before I crashed to my knees on the floor.

“Let me help you,” he said.

“I don't know if I like your help,” I explained. “You were just helping me understand my limitations. I wasn't such a fan of that.”

He walked me out of the store and through the entrance leading up to the apartment, where he deposited me on the couch with the remainder of the stash from the bakery.

“I'll be up to check on you in a couple of hours. If you need anything, just yell. I'll hear you,” he said as he left me alone in the apartment.

* * *

I wished I had been alone longer when the knocking on the door started, and I groaned as I delicately and painfully pulled myself from the couch.

“Just a minute,” I called out to my unwelcome visitor.

Now Cooper's forgetting to lock the exterior door.

The knocking ceased as I shuffled my way to the door; Cooper's demonstration of my limitations was still having ill effects, and I hunched over slightly to ease the pain. I leaned heavily on the knob as I turned it, not even thinking clearly enough to see who was on the other side before opening the door. That thought came to me as I swung it wide open and saw a formidable man standing on my landing.

“Ruby,” he said with an uncomfortable smile. “We really do need to talk.”

36

“I know, I know. The whole broken record thing. I get it,” he said, raising his hands as if to block the verbal assault destined for him. “But it's true. We have to talk about Cass.”

“This so isn't a good time, Sean,” I told him, feeling woozy. Standing was far more laborious than I expected, and I felt faint. “Does your girlfriend know you're here?”

He flinched at the low blow.

Good. Maybe you do have feelings in there.

“She doesn't. PC business is none of her concern. Unless someone is bleeding to death, her involvement is unnecessary,” he said, trying to soften his hardened expression. “Can I come in? Do you need a hand over to the couch?”

I was dying to tell him “no”, but the reality of the situation was the door groaned painfully under my weight as I continued to shift more and more onto it.

“Suit yourself,” I snipped at him as I tried to release the knob unsuccessfully. He instantly supported me around my waist and gently ushered me to the sofa, the second man that day to do that.