Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1) (3 page)

Joan and I continued down the hall past three doors that were numbered. I assumed they were recovery rooms but, for all I knew, they could have been little prison cells. Each one was locked from the outside and two were padlocked. I decided then that as soon as I saw my mother, I was leaving. This beautifully decorated house was just camouflage for all the iniquities it hid.

Finally, we made a right down another hallway. I paid close attention to every turn, every loop, despite the fact the house was a maze.

When she opened another set of double doors, the room temperature dropped; chill bumps rose along my arm. The open room smelled of disinfectant, sulfur and medicine. There were seven beds, separated only by a dividing curtain. Perhaps there were nine; two of the curtains were closed. Near the desk, at the far end of the room, was an examining table. At the other end of the room, was a microscope with testing supplies. Multiple cabinets filled with medical supplies were placed throughout the room. And once again, I found myself wondering: Why the hell did they have a hospital in their house and why did they require so much medical attention?

Joan pulled back the thin dividing curtains. My mother lay on the examining table. With pale skin and bluish lips, her face was peaceful, void of life and the jovial expressions that it always held. This was my mother, or rather her body. The lifeless shell of the woman who took me into her life, her home and raised me as her own after my mother died giving birth to me. She was the person who forced me to learn Portuguese in order to have some part of my birth mother with me, who did everything she could to give me a normal life, despite the circumstances that would deny me that.

I closed my eyes, reluctant to open them again and accept the reality that my mother was dead. “Skylar,” said a deep sympathetic voice behind me. I turned slightly toward the tall, slender gentleman with silver hair and hints of dark gray. A congenial smile settled on his ruggedly handsome face. I didn’t respond. Everyone seemed to know who I was but didn’t bother introducing themselves.

“Who are you?” I asked in an icy voice. I couldn’t believe how incredibly rude I sounded. When your mother is lying dead in front of you, being impolite was acceptable or, at the very least, understandable.

“I’m Dr. Jeremy Baker. You are welcome to call me Jeremy.” He looked down at my mother, his empathy and concern apparent. I felt like a jerk for being so rude to him. “I wish there had been something I could have done for her but she was gone before she got to me. We couldn’t even consider changing her.” He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. Narrow aristocratic features may have made him look cold but I didn’t think he was. After a few moments, he gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He and Joan left the room, leaving me alone to grieve.

And grieve I did. First, shock made it hard to cry. Instead, I stared at her, in a frozen state of disbelief. This wasn’t happening. No, this couldn’t be happening. Whether or not I chose to accept it, or live in a state of utter denial, it happened. There she was—or rather her body. All life was gone from her. The reassuring smile and gentle eyes that always made things seem less perilous and easier to handle were absent. The delicate lines of her face relaxed into an eternal sleep. Her skin was the palest I had ever seen and her lips were cracked and a silvery blue. Now she was nothing more than a lifeless body.

She was dead soon after the attack. After I stopped the CPR, I tried to accept it; she was gone. Taking another look at her, I crumpled into the small space next to the bed. I cried until the urge to scream dwindled to a whimper. When I was done, my eyes were dry, tear ducts battered, and my throat parched from sobbing.

When I walked out of the room, Joan stood by the door waiting for me. Her lips curled into a gentle, sympathetic smile. As she guided me back to the bedroom, I aimlessly followed her in a dissociated state, barely noticing the new rooms she took me through. This wasn’t a house; it was an estate or worse—a compound.

I didn’t see them but I could feel all eyes on me. They were skulking in the shadows, eerily watching me as I moved through the house. I wondered if they were hiding from me, or if they didn’t want me to see them. I wouldn’t be able to name names or identify faces of the people I hadn’t met if needed. Periodically I would look over my shoulder, hoping to get a glance at a face or catch a glimpse of the people who were so obsessively watching me.

As we walked up the stairs, the dark-haired girl who had accompanied Ethan into my home was descending them. Her gaze met mine briefly. She appeared hard and palpably unwelcoming, yet I couldn’t drop my eyes from hers. There was something hauntingly intriguing about her. I stared at her as she passed us. Feeling my attention, she craned her neck to look back at me, and her deep hazel human eyes changed to …
snake eyes?
Long vertical slits sharpened, making her pupils resemble that of a serpent. I stared at them, transfixed, unable to pull my gaze from hers.

“Winter, is everything okay?” Joan inquired, turning to focus on the woman with the peculiar eyes.

She ripped her gaze from mine to look at Joan, her eyes back to hazel but arctic cold. “Of course,” she responded in a low terse voice. She glided down the stairs with soft purposeful movements, giving me the impression that I only heard her moving because she desired it. Any other time, she probably moved in silence, undetected, a predator on a perpetual hunt.

In the room, I sat on the bed trying to focus and gain perspective on what was going on. “What did Dr. Baker mean, that he couldn’t ‘change her’?”

“As were-animals, we have the ability to change others to our form. If the process is successful during the conversion, most if not all injuries are repaired,” her eyes roved over my face assessing me. “A change to a lesser species isn’t as traumatic but the conversion doesn’t allow the best physical repair. As you can guess, change to a greater species is far more aggressive and the survival rate is low, especially if the person is physically compromised. We were left without options for your mother.”

Were-animals? Was that what they were, humans forced to share their body, their life with an animal, like me? “You are all werewolves?” Then I remembered the animal that was at Ethan’s side when he barged into my home. It wasn’t a wolf. With everything going on around me, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw a person in the phase of midchange. By the time I focused on him again, he was a coyote. Well, I assumed the massive thing was a coyote. Its features resembled one, but it was larger than anything I had seen in the woods or zoo. It viciously ripped into the man—or rather vampire, killing one of the four people who entered my home.

She nodded her head slowly, “More than just werewolves, were-animals.”

“Why am I here?” I was hesitant to ask. The more questions I asked, the weirder things became: werewolves or rather were-animals, vampires and beautifully decorated compounds with built-in hospitals.

“Because you need help,” she stated elusively.

“What if I don’t want your help?”

The muscles around her neck tightened marginally, but she maintained the same pleasant smile. “I hope you will accept it and stay here. Then we can guarantee your safety.” She was very cautious and deliberate with choosing her words. Despite the assertive undertone and my efforts to resist, when she spoke, it was soothing.

I was silent for a long time, looking around the room. Now there were more of my things in it, set up for an extended stay. “Why do I have a feeling that your request is just a courtesy and I really don’t have a choice in leaving?”

“We will not keep you here against your will. However, it will make it much easier to keep you safe here. The vampires are wise enough not to come here,” she continued maintaining a professional yet gentle tone.

“If I chose, I can just take my things and leave, no question asked?” My eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her. I was having a hard time believing that.

“We hope that you choose to stay,” a baritone voice added. I swallowed a gasp; my body tensed. Some people have the ability to command a room, others to control it; when someone does both, it is consuming. He was a presence that occupied the large room, shrinking it to a quarter of its size. I felt the urge to find a small space that he didn’t occupy and cower.

His skin was tinted a flawless deep espresso-brown. His full lips, which should have overwhelmed his face, did nothing but enhance it, despite the fact they were dipped down into a frown. Prominently defined cheekbones and a strong jawline made the look of reproach he gave me even more severe. My gaze fixed on his oval light-brown eyes that were so cold and imposing that they trapped me where I stood. As he moved further into the room, the waves of muscles that clung to his broad build moved in unison with each step.

“Skylar, this is Sebastian, the Alpha of the Midwest Pack,” Joan explained with her brow raised as a warning. She nodded, or rather bowed her head to him in a respectful greeting to acknowledge him.

I forced contact with the male whose mere presence left me wishing I could be anywhere else. “Nice to meet you, Sebastian,” I lied. Crossing his arms over his chest, he nodded a greeting. His eyes roved over me inquisitively. The frown remained. Whatever he saw, it left him either disappointed or unimpressed.

“I am extending an invitation for you to stay here for your own protection. You will not be safe in your home any longer,” he stated firmly. “It would be advisable that you accept.”

“But if I choose to decline your help and leave, I’m free to do so, right?” I challenged. Joan implied that I could leave at any time, but my gut was telling me otherwise.

His face tensed, making his appearance harsh and strident. I got the impression Sebastian wasn’t questioned or denied often. “No one will stop you, but I doubt you will be gone long before the vampires come for you again, and your fate with them will be far worse than being a guest here,” he responded in a crisp tone.

I tried to meet his gaze but it was too intense, scary. “Who petitioned you to protect me?” I asked.

The stern look remained as he spoke, “That’s irrelevant. They want you alive; that is all you need to know.”

“And the vampires? Why do they want me?” I asked. Now that I knew there were other were-animals—enough to form a pack, this had nothing to do with me being a werewolf. Except for being a werewolf, there wasn’t anything else exceptional about me.

“At this time, we don’t have that information,” he admitted in a stiff voice.

“Let me see if I understand. The vampires have an interest in me. You were petitioned to protect me by someone who seems to want anonymity, and you have no idea what the vampires want with me, but still you have chosen to help me?” I asked incredulously.

It was obvious from the way the muscles of Sebastian’s neck and jaw twitched with tension that he didn’t like questions or being in the dark any more than I did. And pointing it out wasn’t winning any favor with him either.

“Why would you choose
not
to stay?”

I shrugged, “Let’s just say I have trust issues and don’t believe in altruism. I don’t understand why you want to help me.” That was a slight lie. I did believe in altruism but I surely didn’t believe he was capable of such an act.

He nodded his head slowly, still assessing me with that penetratingly intense gaze. Sebastian didn’t just share his body with his animal; he had bonded with it and become one with it. The primordial nature of his animal was so tightly interwoven with the man before me that he was something different—a “manimal.”

There was a protracted silence. His gazed hardened and his brown eyes flickered to deep amber and I was faced with very familiar animal eyes. Sebastian was a wolf—like me. Well, maybe not like me because the animal that stared back at me projected a level of danger that left me shaken. I doubt even on my best day I could ever be that terrifying in human form. “We saved your life Ms. Brooks. I think we have earned your trust.”

Had they
? The only thing I knew about these people was they knew how to kill: savagely, effectively and efficiently. They lived in a well-equipped compound that smelled of spilled blood. They were half-animals that gave into their primal urges gregariously. They hadn’t earned my trust. The only thing they earned was my innate wariness and self-protective urge to get as much distance between them and me as possible.

Impatient, waiting for me to respond, he directed his attention to Joan. “If she is too foolish to accept our help graciously, then she will have it begrudgingly. She can stay as our guest or our prisoner. I don’t care about the spirit in which our invitation is taken.” Then he stalked out of the room, leaving me staring at the empty space he once occupied.

Joan’s lips trembled slightly before she swallowed hard and mustered that oddly pleasant smile. “Skylar, there isn’t much more for you to understand. The vampires came to your house, killed your mother and attempted to abduct you. Their intentions for you are unknown at this time. This is fact. It is in your best interest to stay here for the time being, until we have this situation under control.” She stated in firm voice. When I didn’t respond, she continued taking small deliberate steps, pacing in the small space that separated us.

“Forcing me to stay isn’t really helping to build my trust,” I stated.

Her voice still had the soft gentle cadence, but now there was a hint of urgency and frustration that she was working to suppress. “Demetrius wants you alive. Never before has he orchestrated something so extreme for one person. He sent his best for you.” Reading the confusion on my face, she elaborated: “Demetrius is the Master of the Northern seethe, the strongest in the world. The vampires aren’t usually a menace, choosing to spend most of their time whoring around and satisfying their lusts in varying degrees. But when Demetrius peeks his head out from his self-indulgences, he likes to flex his power. When he does, it’s never good. He may want you alive for now, but I can assure you, it probably won’t be for long,” she stated gravely.