Reckless Revenge: Book Four (Spellbound 4) (7 page)

“What
is
that guy’s problem?” Trent asked, putting a protective arm around my waist.

I pressed closer to him. “He doesn’t like me for some reason.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“You mean with your fists?”

Trent slightly smiled. “Yeah.”

Perfect response. My heart turned to mushy girl-goo.

I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck. “No. Tonight is supposed to be about having fun and forgetting the craziness. Please don’t spoil it by fighting.”

Trent nodded and took a big gulp of his drink. “Whatever you say,
mon coeur.
”

Carter’s stare was still burning holes into my skin, so I glanced at the glass in his hand and concentrated. The mug trembled, then suddenly shattered, the dark liquid sloshing all over his clothes.

Trent glanced up, his eyes wide. “Did you do that?”

“Yup.”

“And you think
I
have anger issues,” he teased.

Before I could respond, that weird sensation of being watched struck me. From within the faces of the crowd, I glimpsed dark hair and the flash of violet eyes. A challenge in Stalker Boy’s stare and a gleam I couldn’t decipher, yet my entire body tingled.

Trent gripped my shoulder, and I turned to glance at him, then back at Stalker Boy, but he was gone. Again.

Trent stopped by on Sunday morning and we trained for three hours. He coached me through numerous maneuvers, demonstrating how to move and where to strike someone. I grasped the techniques gradually, and kept practicing until I improved and mastered each move.

Near the end of our training session Trent lifted his phone. “It’s one o’clock. We’ll begin weapons training after lunch.”

My eyebrows shot upward. “You trust me with sharp objects?”

“As long as they’re not pointed at me.” He patted his stomach. “Now let’s eat, I’m starving.”

We went upstairs into the kitchen. Aunt Darrah wasn’t home as usual. Dirty dishes huddled in the sink, and the house was freezing. I shuffled into the hall and pushed the button to turn up the heater. The furnace replied by grumbling to life with a loud
wump
. When I returned to the kitchen, Trent had stuff out to make us grilled cheese sandwiches.

We washed the food down with milk, then went back to the musty basement.

“Grab a dagger from the table, and we’ll practice hitting that bulls-eye target on the wall,” Trent said.

We took turns throwing knives until my right shoulder and arm ached. He hit the center dot each time. Me? Not so much.

“I think that’s enough for one day—”

Trent found his words stolen from him when I grabbed his arm and tossed him over my shoulder. He landed flat on his back. Before he could recover, I straddled his perfect pecs, bending to pin his arms.

He craned his neck to look at me. “Nice move.”

Now that I was straddling him, there was something sensual, almost sexy about it. I released my hold on his biceps. Trent raised his hips and put his hands on my waist. He stared deeply into my eyes, and my breath sped up.

I leaned forward, allowing my lips to brush against his. His hands roamed over my back, his touch oddly soft and caressing. Then his lips recaptured mine, more demanding than before. Leaning down, I pushed my breasts against his bare chest, and that long kiss deepened, sending a cascade of hot blood rushing through my veins. My eyes fluttered to a heady, heavy-lidded gaze. His lips seared a path along my jawline to my neck. I flattened myself on him, fully aware of certain body parts rubbing against each other. His hands were touching and stroking my hot skin. I pressed my mouth to his warm lips and the long kisses became scorching in their intensity. One of his hands eased past my waist and it was like a splash of ice cold water hit my senses.

Breaking the kiss, I scooted off him and wiped my face with a towel. “We need to stop before we go too far.”

“Uh-huh.” He sat up and straightened his clothes, breathing through his mouth and closing his eyes. “Just give me a minute.”

“Guess I’m better at hand-to-hand combat than throwing sharp objects,” I said lightly.

“I can see that.” He opened his eyes, then stood up and took a gulp of water. “I hope I haven’t been too aggressive with the training. That I didn’t hurt you.”

Hurt me?
It was the first time since my dad had died that I’d actually felt awake and alive instead of numb and helpless.

I whacked him on the arm. “Nah, I’m fine. My mom left me a ton of potions that speed healing.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Trent asked. “Kill the lycan?”

Oh, yeah. I wanted to put them all down like feral dogs.

“Absolutely,” I said firmly, then much softer, “And Trent?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for finally believing in me.”

Trent didn’t have to stick around. He didn’t have to save my life numerous times. And he didn’t have to turn out to be so damn honorable.

“No big deal. You’re my girl, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Me either.

I threw down my towel and pulled at my hair. “But I feel so damn impatient. I
need
to figure out who’s responsible for my dad’s murder. Like now.”

Moving to the table, I popped the cork on one of the vials that increased healing and chugged the magickal drink.
Ewww
. It tasted nasty, but it worked fast.

“I know, Shiloh. We’ll find the bastard, don’t worry.” His emerald eyes shimmered softly in the dim light. No hint of darkness.

Which reminded of a subject that needed to be dealt with as delicately as possible.

“Uh, Trent…we should talk about something else that’s been bugging me.” I shifted uncomfortably and cleared my throat, except no words escaped. I tried again, swallowing hard, and when the words did come, it sounded as if someone else was speaking. “But I need you to stay calm, okay?”

Trent tilted his head. “Okay…”

“Lately, I’ve noticed something different about you. You seem to have this massive dark power inside you.” I tapped a finger at his chest. “I know because it’s in me, too.”

His jaw flexed and he went very still.

“What I don’t know is
how
you became infected,” I said.

He wrinkled his nose like he smelled something bad. “Infected?”

“Yes. With demon blood.”

“You’re nuts.” He pointed to his head and rotated a finger in little circles.

“Trent, I’m serious.” I said. “I can’t keep ignoring the fact that something’s up with you. And I have to be able to trust you, especially if we’re going into battle together.”

He stared at me as if I’d lost my damn mind. I probably had.

His brows furrowed. “Your sense of humor is really warped.”

“Can you at least tell me if you’ve felt different lately?”

“Sort of,” he said almost reluctantly. “It’s hard to explain…sometimes I get so mad it feels like this hot poker is stabbing me in the chest, and all I can see is red. Like…like I could kill someone with my bare hands.” He gave me an odd look, his expression unreadable.

What if Trent had been bitten by a lycan?

“There has to be a simple explanation.” A splinter of unease inched up my spine. I didn’t want to open my big mouth and make him retreat into his man cave, so I cautiously asked, “When did this start happening?”

“These urges got worse right after my party.” A hard edge entered his voice. He turned away. “My anger is starting to scare me. It’s getting harder to control, like there’s this fiery ball of rage building inside my chest.” He let out a soft breath. “What do you think is wrong with me?”

“I have a few guesses. Couple of bad theories, but nothing solid—actually, I’ll get back to you on that. And Trent, just to be safe, you need to restrain it.”

He swallowed hard. “I’ll try, but I need your help. If you’re not with me, I don’t...I don’t know what’ll happen to me.”

“Of course, I’ll help you.”

Trent’s whole body relaxed. His lips lifted into that perfect crooked smile. “What do you think I should do? What will help?”

“I’m not sure. But I do know that angry people need hugs. Or sharp objects. Not sure which,” I said lightly. But even my weak attempt at wordplay didn’t soften the lump in my throat.

“Me neither.”

“Maybe we should talk to Evans,” I said.

“No. Not yet. I just need you,
mon amour
. You’re the only one who makes me want to be good. Be a better man.”

For a guy, sometimes Trent was better at expressing his feelings than me, except I could tell it still wasn’t easy for him to admit that he was struggling with his anger. Probably believed it was some type of weakness.

“I’ll never give up on you, Trent. And I know you’d never hurt me.”

He took a step and closed the distance between us. “Please don’t stress about what’s happening to me, I’ll be fine.” He cupped my face in his hands. “Shiloh, listen to me, please. All I want is for you to feel safe. Always know that. Your happiness and welfare mean everything to me.
You
mean everything to me.”

He gazed so intensely into my eyes that I couldn’t hold back the tears. I glanced at the floor, then back to his face. Tears rimmed his eyes, too. We hugged for a long meaningful moment. He swiped at his watery eyes and kissed my forehead.

“We’ll figure this out together,” I whispered.

In retrospect, I should’ve been more worried. But there’s only so much worry a girl can take. With Trent finally believing in me, well, I wouldn’t freak out about his freaky obsidian eyes. Not yet. Whatever was going on with him could wait. We’d figure it out later. I had bigger problems to consider than if he was leaning toward the dark side, like my aunt. It wasn’t as if he’d hurt anyone, like the football players were doing. And I figured if Evans or my mom could find a cure for me, than they could find one for Trent, too. Besides, I had lycans to kill and innocents to protect. And overriding it all was my burning desire to avenge my dad.

Still, I had to help him retain as much of his humanity as possible. If I could save him, then there might be hope for me, too. Hope that I could conquer the
Darkness.
Just be normal again.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing ever was.

Before my last class on Monday, I slipped into the bathroom. It had been a long, rainy day and I just wanted to go home and hit the punching bag. I missed my dad and a downpour of tears leaked from my eyes. Even though I’d cast a spell to ease heartache after my dad’s funeral, I found myself crying at odd times. Weird things would trigger my emotions and I’d start bawling. Like being pissed off because I might not be able discover the person
or
lycan responsible for killing my dad.

I snatched a paper towel from the dispenser and mopped the pools of mascara lining my eyes. Gripping the sides of the cold porcelain sink, I scrutinized my tear-stained face in the streaky mirror.

“Don’t get all hysterical,” I told my forlorn reflection. “You’ll hunt the lycan that killed Dad. It won’t be long now.”

Tough talk coming from a girl terrified of the dark.

As I was wiping snot from my nose, Brittany strolled in, her heels clacking on the floor. She was stylishly dressed in a black top with a red cashmere scarf draped around her neck, and a tight knee-length skirt. Me? Not so much. I’d thrown on the jeans I’d worn yesterday with a wrinkled T-shirt and a leather jacket. My hand automatically fingered the switchblade tucked into my back pocket. The lump made me feel safer, even if having it at school got me expelled.

Brittany removed a brush from her oversized purse and dragged it through her long black hair while she regarded me in the glass. “Uh, sorry about your dad.”

My hand curled into a fist. It was cold and raining, my dad was rotting in a grave, and here was this
Trendy
, dressed like a fashion model, who claimed she was sorry.

Everyone kept saying that and it was getting on my nerves. That word meant nothing. Why couldn’t people find something more original or profound to say? My dad had died about a month ago, but I still experienced that cold finger of sadness touch my heart whenever I thought of him.

I opened my mouth, then shut it. It had only been a week or so since Kayla’s funeral had taken place in the same graveyard where they found the body of that groundskeeper.

I licked my lips and said, “Kayla will be missed.”

She stopped brushing. “Oh? Why?”

Taking a deep breath, I tried to be civil. “Can you please retract your claws for a minute? It’s horrible what happened to your friend. And it seriously blows that your boyfriend disappeared, too.”

Brittany’s perfectly arched brows followed the slight, upward curve of her brown eyes, which sparkled with tears “With all the creepy stuff going on, romance is the least of my concerns.” The tough words didn’t hide the hurt in her voice. “I miss Kayla more.”

I blew my nose and threw the tissue in the trash. “Lotta people at Kayla’s funeral?”

“Yup. Half the town showed up. The cheer squad did a routine in her honor. She would’ve loved it.”

The room was glaringly white: walls, stalls, sinks. One of the faucets leaked water. Glass on the single window near the ceiling was splintered. I tucked my lips inward, bobbed my head, and walked toward the exit. Brittany’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Before you run off, I want to ask you something.”

I tensed and spun on my heel. “What?”

She stared at me in the mirror. “I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I need, um, your help with a spell. You dabble, right?”

I eyed her suspiciously before saying cautiously, “Maybe.”

“People say that you
know
stuff. That you’re a...” Her words faded.

I helped her out. “Witch.”

So much for my secret identity.

Her brows slanted downward. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Whaddya need?”

“A stronger spell. Something to prevent everyone from seeing me. The
real
me.” She pretended to be busy searching for a lipstick in her purse. “My mom cast one last year, but it’s wearing off. And now she’s acting like a total bitch and we aren’t talking, so I can’t ask her for another.”

No effing way.
Ha!
All this time everyone had idolized Brittany because of a popularity spell?

Brittany’s mom, Mei Witheridge was a member of the Blood Rose Circle. Actually, Ari’s mom had been too, before she’d skipped town, which meant Brittany and Ariana might have latent powers. Something else to discuss with Evans.

Brittany sniffled, intruding on my internal babble. “Can you do it or not?”

The spell would have to be cast at midnight. When it’s darkest. No way did I want to do this. Just thinking about it made me sweat.

“Of course. You need a cloaking incantation so everyone will keep thinking you’re fabulous, but it’s a complicated spell. What’s in it for me?”

“Anything. Name it. I have money.”

“Ohhh.” I shook my head. “I don’t need money.”

“Then what?”

Good question. An idea tickled at my mind. I didn’t have much control over supernatural baddies, but maybe I could manipulate one bully. Make the world a smidgen better for others.

“I want you to stop picking on the other kids at school.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “Okay. Whatever. Sure.”

What the hell was going on? The Queen Bee’s minion was waving the white flag. I couldn’t believe it.

“You’ll have to do a blood oath. And I’ll need a few strands of your hair and a rose thorn. The ritual has to be performed at midnight on sacred ground. Plus, I’ll need graveyard dirt and a lily.” I may be failing art class, but I’d studied my ancestors’ grimoires until I had them memorized. I turned away then stopped. “Oh, yeah. Don’t forget to bring some alfalfa—”

“Alfalfa?” She put a hand on her hip. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Just get the stuff and meet me tonight in the Silent Hollows Cemetery.”

“La-de-dah.” She puckered her lips. “Wait—won’t it be dangerous? What if the
fur gang
” —she made quotes with her fingers— “is still preying on the locals? Just saying.”

“We have to do it at night under a full moon, so the mystical energies will be at their strongest. We should be safe enough. The wolves can’t stomach the smell of dead people. They won’t come near the place.”

“Did you say
wolves
? I thought it was wild dogs.”

Oops!
Hadn’t meant to mention the lycans. My cheeks caught fire.

“Oh, well, it’s, um...”
Think. Think!
I shook my head and threw up my hands. “I don’t know why I said wolves.”

“C’mon, I’m not brainless. These attacks aren’t normal and I’ve heard wolves howling in the woods.” She crossed her arms and stared as if daring me to call her a liar.

My stomach knotted up. “It’s a pack of wild dogs, like Sheriff Boyd said. Animal control will capture them and, yeah, that’ll be that.” How easy it was to lie.

Brittany’s eyes narrowed. “Sure. Then why are you always around when creepy stuff happens? It doesn’t even seem to faze you. You helped James and Tyreese, and no matter what people said about live theater, I know full well you used magick on that scary thing at Trent’s party. So? What gives?”

Crappity crap.

I rubbed the outer edge of my left eye. What was I supposed to say to her?
Gee, Brittany, there’s the tangible world we inhabit, and then there’s the supernatural realm where the big bad evils live. It’s a thin veil between our worlds, and I wouldn’t cross it if I were you.

But I couldn’t tell her
that
. She wasn’t ready to hear it. Still, I had to say something
.
I chipped at the nail polish on my thumb, chiseling an image. It resembled a smiley face in reverse.

The tone of the bell reverberated through my bones. Ah, I was saved by the bell.

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” When she spoke again, she was all business. “This conversation never even happened. It goes with you to the grave. Promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay,” I said. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Good.” She nodded resolutely. “See ya tonight.” Brittany tossed her super big, super dark hair, and stalked away. Just before she left, I could have sworn she muttered a thank you.

I pushed into my art class and made a beeline for the supply closet, removed my stuff, and setup my easel. Daniel entered the classroom and dumped his backpack beside a tripod. He nodded in my direction, but we didn’t speak. He had a fresh black eye, purple bruising around his cheek. Another fight?

After buttoning my smock, I selected a brush, losing myself in a world of canvas and paints.

When class ended, I gaped at my painting. I’d drawn a boy cloaked in severe dark clothes and surrounded by blue.
Blue what—skies?
I ran my finger along the strong, handsome profile. The portrait’s violet stare held me captive. I’d painted Stalker Boy.

What in the world had possessed me to draw
him
?

The bells of the church chimed—metallic, clanking noises, which rang more grating than serene, jolting me from my reverie.

Skipping a stop at my locker, I rushed home. I did my homework and ate dinner alone: tuna sandwich with a glass of milk. I contemplated texting Ariana or Trent and telling them about the spell, but I’d promised Brittany that I wouldn’t tell anyone.

In the kitchen as I was rinsing my plate, I glanced out the window into the backyard. Something caught my eye. I squinted, but it was gone.

But I could’ve sworn I’d seen a shock of black hair and violet eyes.