Heroes of Falledge Book One: Black Hellebore (6 page)

She plastered an innocent smile on her face. "Good morning, fellas, let's get to work."

Once she was done here, she was going to find Nick and force some answers out of him, whether he wanted to talk or not.

Then a horrid thought occurred to her.

What if Nick wasn't alive for her to grill?

She swallowed hard past a lump in her throat. Nick had been her best friend, beside Justina. To lose him, too, even if she didn't really have him, would be yet another item on the "It Sucks to Be Julianna Paige" list.

She didn't want him to be dead.

She didn't want him to be injured.

She wanted him to be alive.

She wanted him back.

*****

Nicholas jogged down the porch steps and onto the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder. Gavina's house looked like a cottage, a quaint little place. No one would suspect a witch lived inside.

Each step that took him farther from her place made him wince. Why had he been so harsh to her? Sure, he had been upset to learn he survived. Yeah, he might be skeptical that she used magic to save him. He was annoyed she had taken the last of his money for fast food, but that didn't give him the right to be so cold toward her, even if she had spied on him.

Moody and irritable, that's what he was. His body felt better than ever, considering how close to death he had come -- or considering that he might have actually died. His mind couldn't wrap around that. What had Gavina done to him? If it was some kind of potion or witch juju, she should bottle it and sell it. She'd make a fortune.

His stomach churned at the thought of a potion or drug curing him. He shoved his hands into his pockets. His fingers brushed against something. He pulled it out and stared at it for several minutes before he recognized it as a black hellebore, or the remnants of one. The flower had been all but destroyed. It crumbled within his hands, and the soft breeze pulled the dark dust away.

Nicholas kept walking. His bike was nowhere in sight. In fact, he had no idea where he was going. The wind picked up, a cloud descending around him, giving the land a mystical feel. Although it felt cool, deceptively cold for the time of year, he didn't shiver despite not wearing a shirt or his jacket.

Where was his blasted bike? If he couldn't find it, he'd never be able to leave.

A car honked. Nicholas kept his gaze on the sidewalk. He wasn't in the mood for some girl to be gawking at him.

It honked again. And again. With an exasperated sigh, Nicholas glanced over to see Julianna behind the wheel. A line across her forehead disappeared the moment their eyes met, and her face melted from frustration and worry to relief before settling back on frustration.

"Get in," she demanded, leaning over to open the passenger door.

Nicholas didn't hesitate to comply. He hadn't yet buckled his seat belt when she floored it.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What's wrong?" She made a strange sound, a cross between a snort and a groan. "What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong. Your shirt and coat were found at the scene of a crime, that's what's wrong." Julianna glanced over at him.

"Keep your eyes on the road," he said. She was driving too fast to not concentrate.

"Why were your clothes there, Nick? God, I knew you were in trouble, but how much trouble could you have been into--"

"Wait a second," he said hotly. "What do you mean 'I knew you were in trouble'? I'm not in trouble!"

"Where's your bike? And your shirt and coat?" She stared at him. "But what I don't understand--"

"Watch out!" He yanked on the wheel to keep them in their lane. A truck barreled past them, the driver giving them a dirty look.

Julianna slammed on the brakes and stopped the car. A minivan drove around them as she stared blankly ahead.

"Why are you so bent out of shape?" he asked her, trying not to feel jittery about his latest brush with death. That truck had come out of nowhere and had to have been driving at least twenty, if not thirty, miles over the speed limit. If they had collided, the two of them would have died. There was no questioning that.

She slowly turned toward him, her face expressionless. "I thought you were dead."

"Why would you think that?"

Her mask began to crumble, and the faintest of lines appeared around the corners of her eyes. She glanced at the back seat.

Nicholas unbuckled his seat belt and twisted around to see his ruined shirt and bloody coat. When they should have been at the police station. "I'm touched. You actually care."

She scowled. "Now's not the time for joking, Nick. What kind of a mess have you gotten yourself into now?"

"It's Nicholas," he grumbled, not appreciating her attitude. The shirt wasn't worth wearing, so he only put on the coat.

Julianna punched the top of the dashboard. "Knock it off and start talking. Are you mixed up with the mob? If you need money that badly, you could have just asked."

He glowered at her, his ears feeling hot. "You don't care that I might have been badly wounded or dead. You just didn't want me to die because you wanted to know more about Justina. Am I right?"

Her scowl and flushed cheeks answered his question.

"Unbelievable." For some strange reason, he felt more than just used -- he felt betrayed. He reached toward the door handle and stopped. "How did you find my clothes?" he asked.

"I'm a reporter, remember? Oh, wait, you never bothered to keep in touch with me or know what I've done with my life since you abandoned the town ten years ago. You're a coward, Nicholas Adams."

"Coward?" He had been called a lot of things in his lifetime, but never before a coward. "I tried to stop--Why did you think I was involved with the mob? There's no mob here."

"No, but some goons have been hanging around town lately. Falledge's not as safe and happy as it used to be." She looked both serious and upset.

He had forgotten that she had wanted to be a reporter even back in high school. At least she had accomplished some of her goals.

His admiration dissipated as soon as it developed. "You think I'm a worthless bum. That I have no drive, no determination, no motivation to do anything, isn't that right?"

Again, her silence served as an answer.

His next words shocked him: "Well, you would be right."

It was the truth. If Justina could see him now, she would never want to be with him.

"Where's my bike?" he asked, assuming she knew where that was, too, since she had his clothes. His desire to leave had only been stronger immediately after Justina's funeral.

"I had it moved to my place." Julianna glanced at him for a second.

He hated the pity in her eyes. "I'll walk."

"Don't be ridiculous. Let me drive you. It's at least two miles away."

"You can barely even look at me. You need to concentrate on driving there safely so you don't kill yourself."

She winced, but his harsh words worked. She didn't try to stop him as he opened, then closed, her car door. He waited until she drove off before walking, then jogging, then running. Three seconds later, he stood on her driveway.

Nicholas froze. How had he gotten here so fast?

He didn't move until Julianna beeped and he had to step aside so she could park.

"How did you get here so fast?" she questioned after she grabbed his shirt from her back seat and closed the door.

He shrugged and placed his hand on his chest. He wasn't even breathing heavy. His heart pumped normally. If anything, it beat slower than usual.

Julianna raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. She had to be sick of him by now.

Truthfully, Nicholas was getting sick of himself, too.

He reached into his pockets. "Where are my keys?" he asked.

She jerked her head toward her house, and he reluctantly followed her inside. Julianna closed the door behind him. A sudden click made him whirl around.

"Why did you--" He stopped when he saw the barrel of a small gun aimed at him. Holding his hands up, he backed up a few steps. "You own a gun? You know how to shoot? Since when?"

Julianna gestured with the gun to the living room as her blond hair fell forward over her shoulders. "Sit," she demanded.

Keeping the gun in sight, he inched backward and eventually made his way to sit on her couch. She followed him, the gun trained on him, never wavering.

He gulped. This was a side of Julianna he had never seen before, would never have ever fathomed possible.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"You're the one who should be answering that question," she said pointedly. She sat on the chair across from him.

"Julianna--"

"I found your bike at a crime scene. Then I find your bloody clothes, but no you. You just disappeared. The laboratory--"

"You lied to me," he cut in, piecing the puzzle together, shocked at his feeling betrayed. "You aren't a reporter, are you? You're a cop."

Julianna grimaced. "I'm one of Falledge's deputies." Her gun still trained on him, she removed a badge from her pocket and tossed it onto her wooden coffee table.

He gaped at her. "You? In law enforcement?" Nicholas shut his mouth.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" she snapped.

"But you wanted to be a reporter. What changed your..."

He knew exactly what had changed her mind. Not what. Who.

"You became a deputy to gain access to her files, didn't you?" he accused.

"I'll be the one asking questions, thank you."

Nicholas leaned back. The living room was rather small, or at least seemed that way because of all the furniture crammed into it: couch, chair, love seat, TV stand. A large braided rug covered the middle of the room.

He eyed the gun. Despite the nozzle being pointed to his chest, he didn't feel afraid. Julianna would never hurt him.

Although she did have a crazed look in her eye...

The same crazed look Justina put on whenever she suggested something wild and reckless for them to do, like cutting school to climb nearby Mount Hillaway or renting scuba equipment for a lake.

"Fielding Labs, what happened there, Nicholas?" She leaned forward, still holding the gun in both hands, although it now pointed toward his feet.

"Don't you have to read me my rights first?"

She hesitated and dropped the gun onto the coffee table.

He jumped up, his head touching the ceiling. "Watch it! Do you want to shoot me?"

Julianna tilted her head to the side, a slight smirk on her face. "Gotta have bullets in it first."

Nicholas chuckled. The gun had been for show, to intimidate him. Truth be told, he had been, but only just slightly, not that he would ever admit it.

She turned a photo on the side table away from him before he could see who was in the picture. Then she refocused on him. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Do I look okay?" He held out his arms, his coat falling open, exposing his bare chest.

Julianna's cheeks flushed slightly as she placed her chin in her hand.

"Studying my six pack?" he joked.

"You aren't wounded."

He gulped, not liking the sudden change in conversation topic. He almost wished she still pointed the gun at him. "Why did you think I would be?"

Julianna stood, crossed over to him, and cocked her hand back as if preparing to slap him. "Do you take me for a fool?" she snapped. "Your bloody shirt. Unless that's someone else's blood."

Nicholas stood, too, their bodies barely separated since Julianna had moved in so close. "You think I'm capable of hurting someone?"

"Yes! You abandoned this town when everyone was grieving over Justina's--"

"You think I'm capable of killing someone?" He swallowed hard as the mental image of the goo coating the man, burning him, incinerating him, or whatever it had done, clouded his vision.

Julianna didn't back down or move away. "I think you're dangerous, yes."

"A killer?" he growled. So much for being one of the good guys.

She hesitated. "If push came to shove, yes, I do think you could kill someone."

His anger made it hard to see. As much as he wanted to deny the charge, he couldn't. "You don't know me at all." He moved to brush past her until she touched his arm. Her skin was just as soft and smooth as Justina's had been.

"You mean to tell me that if Justina had been murdered, you wouldn't have gone all vigilante on the perp?"

Her touch burned him, and he yanked his arm free. "That's not what happened."

He could see the unasked question shining in her eyes. For a long second, they stood there, staring at each other, neither moving, the distance between them too close for comfort. Cocking his head to the right, he could just see the picture she had turned.

It was a photo of Justina and Julianna.

He had captured that moment -- of the two girls swimming in the lake -- a month before Justina had died.

Nicholas stared at the woman before him. She was beautiful. Talented. Smart. Driven. He was good looking, and he knew it, but he sure wasn't talented. Definitely not smart. He never did get his GED, never went back to school after Justina's death. As for drive, the only drive he had was to drive from one place to another to work odd jobs and hope to scrape together enough money to buy some food and rent out a place.

Her blue eyes filled with tears. She was so sad. His girl was in pain. He would do anything to take away her sadness.

Before he knew what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to him, and crushed his mouth against hers. The moment their lips touched, he knew it wasn't her, that he was kissing the wrong girl.

Instead of pulling away, he kept on kissing.

Even stranger, she kissed back. Her slender body melted into his.

He yanked back as if burned. "I'm sorry I don't know--"

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have--"

"I should get going--"

"Yes..."

Nicholas stomped toward the door. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew Justina was dead, that Julianna had been standing in front of him, yet he had felt something for her.

He may have wanted to kiss Justina, but he had kissed Julianna.