I'll Be Damned (Anna Wolfe Series) (21 page)

The sound of my answering machine jolts me awake. "Anna? Are you there? Pick up. It's Kristy. I am heading into work. Call me, please? I want to make sure you're okay." A nice, long beep follows.

My mind hesitantly tries to return to reality. It was a dream? As real as it felt, I can't be so sure. I suspiciously scour the room, looking for any traces of red dirt. It's six a.m. and I'm wide-awake. What the hell? I leap from the couch, throwing off the blanket in the process. A piece of paper floats to the ground like a feather. I bend over and snatch it from the rug, picking out the tan fibers lodged underneath my nails. Valen's cell phone number is scribbled on it. I look back at the blanket, suddenly remembering I never covered myself. Valen's face pops into my head, along with the memory of last night. Where is he? What happened? Anxiety gnaws at my stomach. I'll call him later today. Helplessly, I walk to Janie's door and open it, hoping to find her asleep. The comforter is still strewn into a ball atop the empty bed. She's really gone. At my kitchen table, I place my head in my hands and begin to cry. I have no idea what to do. I have to call my parents, but how can I explain their daughter was kidnapped, or worse, just disappeared?  I'm exhausted from constantly fighting off the overwhelming vulnerability encircling me. My cell phone jingles. I grab it from the couch and answer it immediately.

"Hello?" I ask wearily. 

"Anna? It's Cara! How are you?" she answers in her usual bubbly tone.

"Fine," I reply coldly, squeezing every word through my tight lips. This is what I get for not checking the caller ID.

"I'll be back in town in a few weeks to iron out the remaining wedding plans. I need your help with a few minor details, but I'll explain when I arrive."

"Sounds perfect," I say sarcastically. I'm incapable of being fake today, it’s too much work.

"What's wrong? Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine, peachy keen... just tired."

"I need to ask Janie something... is she there? I called her cell phone, but she’s not returning my calls for some reason," she states matter-of-factly.

Damn it. Leave it to Cara to always be ill-timed. "No. She's sleeping and I don't want to wake her," I say, lying, and finding it much easier than I thought.  

"Tell her to call me when she’s not tied up, would you?" she says with a snicker.

I envision her batting her lengthy eyelashes harmlessly. Her question sounds more like a demand rather than a message. Besides, why would she call so early? "Cara, I have to run. Talk to you soon," I say hastily, hanging up before she has a chance to reply. Let's see how she likes it.

I make a mental note not to apologize to her. I'm over her thoughtless theatrics. I massage my temples, waiting for an epiphany. I need to decompress in order to organize my chaotic thoughts. In the meantime, I settle on a shower. Maybe water will cleanse me of my despair. Twenty minutes later, smelling like coconut, my emotions seem to weigh even more soaking wet. I dress comfortably in a pair of jeans and a tight, white tee, slipping my feet into white flip-flops, my casual chic. If I'm going to be miserable, I might as well be comfortable. Barely going through the motions, I brew coffee, and pace with worry. The piping hot coffee mug in my hands provides temporary comfort. Walking outside, my eyes squint from the sun's overzealous rays. It's going to take more than a gorgeous day to make me grin. I rest my heavy body on the porch swing, trying to untangle my mind. Spanish moss sways carelessly in the gentle breeze, making me jealous. What I wouldn't give to be carefree. The past few days have been rough. Life’s obstacles can really rip you apart, especially in such a minimal amount of time. I glance at the puffy white clouds littering the sky as they playfully dip in and out of the sunlight. The sound of a whining motor snaps me out of my reverie. A sexy, black Audi A8 speeds down my driveway, spinning the decomposed granite into capricious dirt devils. The sun’s magnifying rays disappear in its black-tinted windows. I refuse to move, tired of running and being afraid. What's the point? It always gets you in the end - it's the Mike Myers of emotions. The car slides sideways, screeching to a stop, and the door swings open. In a flash, Valen sprints up my porch steps.

"Anna, I’m positive Janie was taken," he says, getting comfortable next to me. 

"By whom?"  I respond with little enthusiasm. 

He pauses, looking at me oddly. "A demon took her. I spoke with my contacts and they overheard some talk regarding a war and a human being held captive."

I sit, and allow the spark of hope to gradually re-ignite inside of me. I collect all my courage, faith and optimism, and use this tinder to feed the small flame. Valen's eyes are anxiously waiting for me to jump up and down or show some kind of excitement.

"Anna, did you hear me?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I don't know what my problem is... I feel numb," I say, swallowing the stubborn lump of selfishness in my throat. That's what consumes me… my own selfishness. I pour all of my fears, disappointments and failures into the cesspool of negativity, thereby giving it depth and reality. Then I sit on its banks, cursing it for infecting my life, when undoubtedly it's all my own doing.

"Anna, you can't give up... Janie's depending on you," Valen adds.

I sigh. "You're right. I need to end this pity party. I'm the only one who can get her back," I announce confidently. The spark inside me dances, fueled by our conversation.

"I will help you. I'll teach you everything you need to know," he continues.

"What do we need to do?"

"You must study the Netherworld and learn exactly what you are."

"How am I supposed to do that? It's not the kind of thing I can just ask my parents."

"You'd be surprised," he replies matter-of-factly.

I try not to dwell on his statement. My curiosity from last night keeps yanking on the apron of my brain. "What happened to you last night? You never came back."

"I chased the demon," he says hesitantly. "And banished it to the Netherworld."

"What do you mean by banished it? You killed it?"

"Demons don't actually die. They go back to the Netherworld, to re-gather their strength before returning here," he says, pointing to the ground, “kind of like a revolving door.”

I'm assuming he means Earth. "Oh."

He turns to me. "I did come back, but you were sleeping," he paused. "I sat around watching television.”

Awkwardness consumes me at the thought of him hearing me snore or seeing me drool. "I had a dream last night," I say, ignoring my juvenile thoughts.

"What was it? Janie?" Valen asks, sliding closer to me.

I describe my nightmare, careful not to exclude any details. The more I talk, the more eager I become to say more. The heavy weight I’ve carried since childhood lifts just a little bit, allowing me to breathe. 

"Your nightmare could have been induced by night witches. They stalk and manipulate dreams. Maybe the demons want you to know they have Janie and are using her to get to you."

I shake my head. "That can’t be it. I was watching Janie, I was with her. It was different than a nightmare."

"It doesn't make sense," Valen replies, rubbing his chin. "If the night witches weren't the source of your dream, then how could you see her?" he asks rhetorically.

I shrug. "The demons don’t need to send witches or whatever to toy with me. Obviously, they know where I live, so they can easily kill me if they want to.”

"It's not that simple. If a demon kills you, they break the Holy Treaty. Demons, or any Netherworlder, for that matter, can’t go around killing whomever they want, especially humans. That's why they kidnapped Janie."

"They can't kill people, but they can kidnap them? Does that fall within the guidelines of your Treaty?"

"Unfortunately, there are loopholes. Human kidnapping is a gray area, which makes them fair game in some circles," he mutters.

Well, that's not very comforting. "Why would they allow this at all?"

Valen shifts his gaze to his shoes uncomfortably. "Some Netherworlders’ only source of survival is humans."

That's appalling. Vampires are the first creatures that pop in my mind. "Vampires?" I question.

"Yes, vampires," he answers. "Fairies too."

"Fairies? How can they possibly eat humans?"

Valen chuckles at my naïveté. "They don't eat humans. They feed off their energies. And they aren't mystical either, only smoke and mirrors. They look beautiful, but they're dangerous. Humans seek them out for favors. First rule of the fairies - never ask or accept their help."

“What about you?” I swallow hard, lowering my gaze. “Do you eat…?”

“No,” Valen interrupts forcefully. I’m glad that’s settled!

My unawareness is a jolting wakeup call. Too many things are happening while I waste time acting like a terrified twit. I glance at Valen, watching a strand of black hair drop in the middle of his forehead. His muscular jaw tightens, and I have to catch my breath. My butterflies are back in full effect. His hand reaches for my face, gently pushing a rogue strand of hair away from my cheek. I drop my gaze, too much of a chicken to look at him when his face is mere inches from mine. He rests his hand on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it reassuringly.

"Anna, it will be all right. I'm going to help you," he promises.

My throat dries up like the Sahara, denying me the satisfaction of swallowing. I lift my eyes, gradually climbing up his body, relishing his overall sexiness before locking into his icy-blue stare. His eyes devour me. I tremble, and my body begs for his. He lets his arms drift off me as he leans back, safely out of my reach. I exhale my disappointment as we fall into a tacit understanding. Valen clears his throat. Lucky him.

"First, you must learn how to channel your powers. Uncovering your history is a good place to start."

"My history? I know my history. I was born from humans; what else do I need to know?"

"You can start by asking your parents. You might be surprised at what you find out," he replies with a grin, implying he already knows what I will soon find out.

"Are you okay here?" he inquires.

I nod a solemn yes.

"I have to go. I'll check on you later, but you have my cell number if you need anything. Right now, you need to talk to your family and see what you can learn."

"Okay." This is going to be one hell of a day. I visualize the conversation already:
Hey guys, am I a witch? Why no, dear, you're not... okay, sorry, Mom and Jack... clearly I'm insane
. 

"I'll catch up with you later," he yells, dashing down the staircase. I watch his car’s taillights disappear in a cloud of dust. The ringing of my house phone displaces my thoughts. I rush inside, hitting the wall with my shoulder from cutting a corner too close.

"Hello?" I ask impatiently. "Hello?" No reply. Heavy breathing greets my ear, uninvited. "Whoever this is, you aren't funny," I yell, slamming the phone on the receiver. My phone rings again instantly. I don't want to answer it, but I can't risk missing any information about Janie.

"Hello?" I answer, annoyed. Dead air hangs on the line. I hang up, too tired to reprimand the jerk. The phone rings again, sounding like a high-pitched scream. "Don't call here again! You got it!? If you do, I’ll call the cops!"

"Well, woman, what a rude way to answer your telephone," Martello responds, surprised.

"Martello?"

"The one and only," he answers cheerfully. "What's all the hostility about? An’ what's going on over there?"

"I’m sorry. Some prankster called my house and started breathing into the phone like a creep."