Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1) (21 page)

I counted the various arguments I could use, but the hard set of Ethan’s jaw, lips woven so tightly it seemed painful, and the turgid muscle in his neck made it apparent that any rebuttals or arguments would be in vain. “Okay,” I conceded in a relaxed breath.

Surprise shadowed his appearance. The easy concession made him apprehensive.

We drove in silence; his penetrating gaze was split between me and the road. He stopped in the middle of a deserted street. “That was too easy,” he admitted pointedly.

I shrugged, “I just don’t have it in me to debate with you now.” Giving in to him just seemed like a wise choice but I hadn’t given up on my quest to go to the house. I just would have to wait. Arguing with Ethan would have just left both of us frustrated, me more so than him.

He studied me for so long it became uncomfortable. He nodded and started driving. At the next light, he shook his head. “I don’t trust that you will stay put,” he admitted in a steeled voice as he picked up the paper, glanced at the address and made a U-turn.

He was right not to trust me; my persistence had only been shelved temporarily. I had already decided that I was going to go to the address the next day. Leaving the house wasn’t the smartest thing do, but desperation and curiosity made me more brave than wise. I hoped that I could somehow coerce Steven into going with me. Of the were-animals, he seemed the most reasonable and palatable.

“Skylar, you lived all this time not caring about what you were? Why is this now so important?”

He was right, and I was quite ashamed of it now. I knew nothing of my birth or how I came to live with my adopted mother. I ran from my past as though it were a hatchet-wielding psycho out to attack me. I was afraid of the truths it held. Every time my mother brought it up, I changed the subject or worse—started a fight. I did whatever I could to evade talking. There was always that part of me that knew something was different, and if my beginning started off anomalous, then it would only cement my belief. As long as there wasn’t proof, my past was what I made it. As far as I was concerned, the story of my life was that a nice, benevolent physician took me in after my birth mother died, giving birth to me. No harm, no foul. Then I changed into a wolf. Big harm. Huge foul. And still I hid.

“I did. But that was before my mother was killed, vampires started stalking me, and necromancers started lobbying for my murder. If these things had never happened, I probably would have gone many more years not caring to learn anymore of what I am. I was content with being oblivious. I’m not too proud to admit that maybe I made a big mistake in doing so. Maybe if I had made a point to know my past, then this whole mess wouldn’t be happening to me now.”

He opened his mouth to say something but I held my hand up to stop him. “Perhaps this situation was unavoidable, but I still want to know what I am. Being around you all, I realize how very different I am. Why is my sergence wrong? And the terait? I’m not moon called—I am moon tortured. Nathan called me lifeless; I don’t know why, but I really would like to find out,” I stated, trying to appeal to him. Some part of him had to understand.

“You are doing this based on the action and the words of a necromancer. Most necromancers are overreactive to the most minor anomalies,” he stated incredulously.

Why wasn’t the fact that a necromancer wanted me dead alarming to anyone else but me?

I sighed. “Ethan you already admitted that something was different about me. If I’m not mistaken, you weren’t too fond of it either. I’m constantly reminded that I am different, not quite human, were, or other. I feel rejected by so many worlds. I want to know where I belong—I need to know,” I admitted.

There was a long jagged silence. “It won’t change the current circumstances,” he finally stated.

“You’re probably right.”

He parked across the street from the house. It still reminded me of a peppermint, but now it was dulled by inclement weather and age. I got out of the car and so did Ethan. I really wanted to go alone, but asking him to stay would have pushed the envelope further than he could take.

Walking to the door, I put on a brave front, hoping it would ease Ethan. He knocked on the door several times, but no one answered. Just as we turned to walk away, the door opened and a stocky older woman greeted us. Her long salt and pepper hair was braided and draped over her shoulder. Her opaque skin didn’t show the physical signs of aging but her mannerisms indicated a level of wisdom brought on by living many years.

“You’re back," she stated in a cool tone, apparently unsurprised by my visit.

“You remember me?” I challenged, finding it hard to believe that I left such an impression that she would remember me eight years later.

“Of course, I receive few visitors.” She was lying and didn’t really make an effort to hide it.

“Years ago you said that the change had started. What did you mean?”

She looked at me for a long time then asked in a remote flat tone, “Eight years and now you seek answers? Hmm?” She forced a smile on her broad lips. “You want answers. Fine. But he can’t stay,” she stated; her piercing gaze swept over to Ethan where it remained fixed. She studied him, and then frowned. Their eyes locked, unyielding and harsh. She didn’t like Ethan, and based on the look he gave her, the feeling was mutual.

“Then she won’t stay,” he stated firmly. “Thank you for your time.” Taking me by the elbow, he ushered me back to the car. When I stood at the Range Rover’s door without opening it to get in, he exhaled heavily. “What?”

“I want to talk to her.”

“You heard her. She won’t talk to you with me there.”

“Then you will have to stay here … ”

“No!”

“The woman’s like a hundred. I’m sure I can protect myself.”

“It doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. Most vampires are several hundred years old.”

“She’s not a vampire.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Ethan?”

“I said no. Now get in,” he snapped, hoisting himself in and pushing the passenger door open.

Ignoring the opened door, I turned and started back toward the house. I didn’t get far before he jumped out and grabbed my arm. “Must you always do the opposite of everything I ask?” he spat out angrily, turning me to face him. If I weren’t so damned determined, the anger that washed off him definitely would have worked as a deterrent.

“Must you always be so dogmatic and unreasonable?” I lashed back. “We are here. What sense does it make to leave now? Just give me twenty minutes. That is all I’m asking. Please.”

Unyielding, angry eyes glared at me. There were no signs of compromise on his face. Why did these things have to be so hard? “We both know I will return to see her. I don’t think she’s dangerous, but it would be a hell of a lot better if you were here if she were.”

He raked his hands through his hair several times, tousling it. Cursing under his breath, he released his hold on me. “You are so frustrating!” he barked through clenched teeth. I was still staring at human blue eyes, so at least I wasn’t infuriating.

“I know, but I am not trying to be. It’s that horrible side-effect of being me.” I forced a smile. I inched toward the house. “If I’m not out in twenty minutes, or you hear anything suspicious with that freakish superhearing of yours, you have my full support to charge in and do your Beta thing and rip apart anything in your way. I know you would like that.”

I mouthed a thank you and watched as I slowly sent him into a panic attack—the kind only control freaks get when they are forced to give up a minuscule amount of power.

Walking backward, I kept my eyes on him until the corners of his lips turned up into a half smile. I smiled back, mouthed another thank you and walked to the door.

The dull unkempt stairs had little cracks in the concrete leading up to a discolored and dingy welcome mat. I didn’t have time to knock on the door before Gloria opened it with a smug expectant look on her face. The house may have looked like peppermint but it smelled like brimstone. Okay, I wasn’t sure what brimstone smelled like, but it smelled like something odd and unworldly—with a hint of lemon pledge.

“Come in, Skylar,” she stated, removing the small glasses that sat on the tip of her nose. Taking slow cautious steps, I walked into the house. I tried not to inhale too deeply. I really hated the smell of the house. She directed me to the kitchen where I took a seat at the small, cherry wood kitchen table. I looked around the small kitchen. Stainless steel pots and pans hung from an iron rack. Ceramic holders, filled to capacity with utensils decorated the kitchen. Charming decorative potholders with a fruit theme were neatly spread about the kitchen. A matching fruit-decorated apron hung near the stove and matching curtains covered a small bay window that opened slightly, revealing a small vegetable garden. Except for the smell of the house, it was the type of kitchen a grandmother would have.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, keeping a watchful eye on my every movement.

My hands fidgeted nervously. Eventually, I clasped them together, forcing the appearance of calm. “No,” I responded in a nervous, low voice.

“How may I help you?” she finally asked, bringing her cup of tea to the table and sitting across from me.

“You said I went through the change. Did you mean my change into my animal-half?”

“Are you a were-animal, dear?” she asked, interested, but something led me believe that she already knew.

“Wolf.”

“Really. So the evolution has begun.”

“Will I change into something else?” I asked cautiously, fearful of the impending answer.

She thoughtfully sipped on her tea, but it was apparent she wasn’t considering anything. She was just withholding information. “Do you really seek the answers of what you are?” she asked, her eyes lowered, challenging me.

“Why wouldn’t I want to know?”

“Ignorance can sometimes be a beautiful thing,” she stated coolly, sipping from her teacup again, smiling.

“I’ve lacked knowledge too long,” I admitted. “I need to know everything, including why my sergence is off.”

She perked up. “So you’ve been read.”

“Not intentionally.”

“I ask you this with true sincerity. Do you really want to know what you are?” Leaning into the table, she watched my reaction carefully.

I inhaled deeply taking in the horrid odor of brimstone and lemon. “I need to.”

A smile of satisfaction marked her face. “Very well then. I will do this for you, and, in return, you will do me a favor”

It took a while for me to respond. I would owe her. My gut was telling me she wasn’t a person you wanted to owe a favor. I reached for my purse, “No, I will pay you. How much?”

The small smile on her face remained; it was pleasant but didn’t mask her avid curiosity. She wanted the information just as much as I did. “I will do this for you without cost or obligation,” she said.

She laid her hands palms up on the table. “Give me your hands.”

I looked at them reluctantly. “What are you?” I asked. It was at that moment that I wondered what gifts she possessed that led my mother to seek her advice after my change.

“I’m a Tréase,” she stated proudly.

I hated that I didn’t know what it was because she seemed very proud of it. “What is a Tréase?”

“Give me your hands and you will find out.”

I hesitated for a long moment. Could she hurt me with just a simple touch? I wanted answers, so I pushed my fear aside and placed my hands in hers. Her hands were cold and as the minutes passed they tightened around mine, squeezing them to the point where it was uncomfortable. I stared in awe as she changed into a version of me as a child of ten. Two long braids hung down to my shoulders, my eyes a sharper green, my skin youthful and flushed. “Danielle called you a freak on the playground because you always beat everyone at sports and playground games. You were faster, stronger and more instinctive than them. Instead of embracing those attributes you chose to suppress them. You didn’t want to be different. Why is that, Skylar?”

“What child wants to be different?” I asked her, perplexed.

“Most strive to be the best. You were the best, and yet you suppressed your talents to the point where you appeared to be less than average,” she alleged in a disappointed voice.

“Because something deep in me already knew I was odd and that my abilities came from something unnatural,” I admitted to her so freely that it gave me pause. My feelings and thoughts spilled from me in such an unrestricted manner that it surprised me. “I hated that I didn’t feel like a real girl.”

“I wasn’t a real girl?” asked my younger self.

“You weren’t the way girls were supposed to be. You were too strong, your senses too astute, your ways too intense and your temperament too volatile for a girl your age. You weren’t the way girls were supposed to be. You were an animal trapped in a little girl’s body. Although the animal remained hidden, its ways were always present. Deep down I knew it was there,” I revealed. The girl smiled at me as she shifted into my wolf. The only thing that remained in human form was her hands as they held mine.

“I emerged, confirming that you were different. Did you believe you were the only one?” my wolf asked. Staring at it, I was astonished by its perfect replication of my wolf, right down to the color change from light gray to charcoal around my ears.