Second Skin (Skinned) (9 page)

It was either that or go with the guys and discover what Marie had to say on the subject of night mares. Alec’s mother was the last person I wanted to see. Especially after Alec told her he’d had a vision and experienced the dastardly deed himself in 3D.
Heya, how’s about sharing vital information with the girl who will be responsible for your son’s death?

Awkward.

Sure, she’d helped Matt to pull me through a nasty werewolf gouging during our showdown with Logan, but she didn’t have any attachment to her handiwork. She’d take me down to protect Alec. We knew where we stood with each other, and standing in the same room for an extended period wasn’t part of the deal.

In fact, after I’d recovered and glossed over exactly who and what I was, I’d taken Marie aside and told her to melt a special round of silver bullets just for me. Just in case.

They were already made. She’d even showed me the rounds.

A few hours in the library seemed like a cakewalk in comparison.

I tilted my head, listening for movement in my cousin’s room next door. Nothing. No angry rev of her diffuser. No country music blaring. I kicked the covers off and let the comforter fall to the floor. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I shuffled down the hall and into the bathroom. The cold tiles on my feet jolted me more awake, but the empty bathroom was even more jarring. Paige wasn’t hogging it. The cultured marble countertops glistened under the vanity lights, like a brand-new showroom. No plethora of hair care bottles and makeup cluttering each available surface. The bathroom was spotless.

I met my reflection’s eyes in the mirror. Gave myself a wide grin. Yet another of Paige’s new, Kate-inspired personality quirks. Unnerving, but rather pleasant.

Twenty minutes later, my hair arranged in funky, but no fuss, low-hanging pigtails, minimal makeup, and standard hoodie/ jeans combo, I entered the kitchen. Uncle Marcus had assumed his usual position at the head of the McCain table, reading through an assortment of legal-sized documents. Aunt Sammi stood at the island, organizing a boxful of orange and black pipe cleaners, pre- cut bat wings, and ghosts ornaments made from toilet tissue.

Ah, just another breakfast at the McCains’ freakishly normal house of horrors.

“Morning, Eryn.” Sammi shot me a wide smile. “Don’t you look beautiful today. Doesn’t she, Marcus?”

My uncle grunted, but didn’t glance up from the legal documents he was reading. Marcus was a real estate lawyer who’d recently taken on a class action suit against Harbinger Properties. To a lot of folks in town, he’d become a knight in shining paperwork armor, out to protect the farmers who were being chased off their land by the condo-constructing conglomerate.

Say that five times fast.

Only problem, Harbinger was owned by the one and only master vampire, Logan, although you’d never find his name on any of the land claims. But Marcus knew the truth, and my kind- hearted uncle was a major thorn in Logan’s undead side, making it difficult for him to buy land from hardworking humans and sell it to flesh-eating paranorms.

Not that Marcus really understood the evil behind Harbinger. My job was to keep him from stumbling on the truth. The only thing preventing Logan from striking Marcus down was my promise to locate and hand over my father’s Frankenstein-ian anti- paranorm formula. The same one Brit wanted to use on Blake to see if it would bring him back.

But I had to find it first.

Which meant I had to start looking.

Something I had yet to do. Besides, now we had the night mare and bounty hunters to contend with. Of course, in a town like Redgrave, there was always going to be some paranormal fire to snuff out. I stuffed down a twinge of guilt.

Or maybe a hunger pang.

I’d be no use to anyone if I starved to death. I desperately needed sustenance before braving yet another ride to school in Paige’s country music mobile.

Where was my annoying cousin? “Paige leave?” I asked.

Sammi looked around vaguely. “Oh, I haven’t seen her yet.” She glanced out the kitchen window. “Her car’s still parked in front. Don’t worry. We wouldn’t let your ride leave without you. Would we, Marcus?”

Another grunt.

Boy, someone hadn’t eaten their high-fiber cereal this morning. I opened the fridge, scanning the low-carb, green, and leafy produce that filled the shelves looking for something…meaty. I grabbed a chunk of ham sausage, a wedge of cheddar cheese, eggs, and a jug of milk. An omelet. That’s what I needed. Lots of protein.

I kicked the fridge door shut and placed my goods on the counter.

Hmm….where to find a skillet?

I didn’t want to stress Sammi out by asking. We’d finally gone beyond the stage where she hid all the knives and other sharp objects from me. My history as a cutter and her hyper-vigilance were not a good combination.

“Now this is interesting,” Marcus said, his voice gravelly as if he hadn’t spoken since waking up. I began opening cupboards, finding a bowl, a decent wooden spoon, heavy frying pan. Bonus. But,
ugh
, when was the last time Sammi did a spring cleanup?

These cupboards smell like…

“You won’t believe the contract I just discovered.” Marcus ground out the words.

The hair on my neck jerked to attention.
They smell like…

“Contract?” I asked, whirling around.

…sour gas.

Marcus lifted his head. His eyes glowed red and foam gathered at the corners of his mouth. His skin gleamed with sweat like he was burning from the inside out.

I screamed and held out the skillet as if it were my trusty athame. Which happened to be stashed upstairs under my mattress.

Damn!

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

“That’s right, Eryn.” Marcus’ voice was not his own. Deeper, fuller, crazier. “The contract for your soul on a silver platter. See?” He held up a piece of faded parchment. No modern photocopy, this was ritual—forged with the dark arts. The ink was bloodred.

I sniffed.

Nope, dried blood.

Not products of the night mare, but demonic all the same. Perhaps one of the bounty hunters Kate had warned me about.

Sammi giggled, her glowing eyes dancing with an evil mirth. Okay, make that two bounty hunters.

“You think a witch is going to keep us from getting to you?” The thing inside Marcus laughed. “Oh, please, you’re killing me. Or am I about to kill you?” It lurched to its feet.

I get my height from my father’s side of the family, and Marcus, my dad’s younger brother, wasn’t a lightweight. I tilted my head to meet his bedeviled gaze.

“Get out of my aunt and uncle, you stinking, hell-spawned, freaky-eyed jerks.” I shifted on the balls of my toes, ready to spring if I had to. “Leave them alone. Vacate the premises. Now.” My teeth ached. My wolf clamored to the surface. A rumble sounded low in my throat.

“Oh, is the little puppy coming out to play?” Demonic Sammi clapped her hands with glee. Purple veins spidered along the backs of her hands as if her skin could barely hold the demon in.

“Now, hon, you know we don’t play with our food.” Demonic Marcus shot her a frown and then sliced his attention back to me. “Seems not everyone back at home believes you’re so innocent, Eryn.” Those lips slanted up into a grin. “Did you really think they’d let you go after what you did to your parents?”

My heart pounded.

What did he mean? What had I done? I swallowed back a sob.

It’s messing with you.
Wade’s voice whispered in my mind.

Attack. Call your wolf.

No!
I growled.
I can’t.
The demons were hiding inside Sammi and Marcus. Buried within their vulnerable bodies. If I took the collar off and set my wolf loose, my aunt and uncle would pay the price. With their lives.

“This has been…fun. But spell or no spell. We’re gonna get you, girl.” Demonic Marcus pushed the table aside. “Lord knows, there’s more than one way to skin a wolf.”

Attack now!
The smell of mint clashed with rotten eggs, and bile hit the roof of my mouth. Energy crackled in the air. The hair on my neck and arms stood on end, even my scalp tingled as if I’d placed my hand on one of those static balls at the science museum. The demons were working up some major jolt of power.

“Cat,” I ground out.

Demonic Marcus tilted his head. “What?”

“I believe the expression is
There’s more than one way to skin a CAT
!” I launched forward, swinging the cast iron skillet like a broadsword.

No impact.

My world rippled. The kitchen walls buckled and pinched together like I was looking at the world through a fisheye lens.

I staggered in a circle with the force of my swing. I came out of it gasping.

The room smelled only of burned toast and coffee.

Sammi glanced up from her box of Halloween materials. “What’s this about skinning a cat?” Her baby blues were wide with shock.

Marcus, seated at the table, lifted his head from the legal documents. “Did I miss something?” He glanced between us and began reading again. Perfectly clueless. Perfectly normal.

“Omelet anyone?” My fingers white-knuckled the skillet’s iron handle.

Go iron.

Graveyard Dirt, Wax Dolls, and a Scythe

Strapped into Paige’s car, I waited for her to get in. Braced myself for impact.

Not that she was a reckless driver, with a history of crashing into old ladies or wayward signposts. Nope, just the usual early morning/ country music collision. My rocker soul being crushed by Paige’s choice of twang tunage.

Paige, my blonde, beautiful, bimbo-in-the-making cousin, had been sucking my soul dry long before the bounty hunters arrived. Since Paige was stuck driving me to school everyday, we’d come to an agreement.

Her car. Her tunes.

My sanity was optional.

I’d suffer the crossover hillbilly beats in painful silence. Okay, the occasional groan might slip, but…can you blame me?

Sure, I could have hoofed it for the twenty-minute walk to school. The -30° Celsius barely put a chill down my wolven spine. Yup, I could have. If I wanted to set the whole campus abuzz with my freak factor.

No thanks.

Bad enough I had a rep for being Paige’s hand-me-down- wearing, house-crashing cousin. And for hanging with the Delacroix boys and their loyal sidekick, Brit. Brit was much hated at the moment because her cop father had announced last week— to the entire student body—the town’s new 9:00p.m. curfew for all teens.

Adding a physically impossible hike to school in sub-human temperatures would surely get the gossips talking.

And then rumors abounded that the entire Delaroix family, their hermit-like mother included, were off their rockers and believed in—
gasp
—werewolves.

With half the things that went down in Redgrave, it was amazing the townsfolk weren’t camped out on the Delaroix veranda, begging for help. But thanks to Logan and his vamp- controlled police force, people only questioned things that Logan wanted them to question.

Hence the town having it out for Alec’s family.

Paige’s door opened, and she climbed in behind the wheel. I clenched my teeth to keep my jaw from coming unhinged.

Paige looked…unkempt. Her normally diffused glory crown of golden curls was a frizzy mess, yanked back into a bun.

Good lord, she wasn’t wearing makeup. Waxy skin, dull eyes, and she wore a baggy pair of sweats and an Oilers jersey. Paige looked like a bored soccer mom. Paige. Redgrave High’s fashionista. Wowza. I knew Paige had been a little off since Kate had hexed her memory. She’d been quieter, hadn’t had any diva freak-outs over breakfast, but this was serious. Like life-and-death serious.