Red (36 page)

I shrugged and waited for him to get to the
point, which only seemed to make him more anxious.

“
Anyway, I just . . . I
never had a chance to say thank you. For saving my life. And for .
. . you know, the other thing.”

“
What other thing?” I
asked.

Rich looked around and leaned in. “For
making sure the son of a bitch couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

For a moment the hallway faded out and I was
back in the clearing, my hand still singing, the blade still
quivering in Patrick’s gurgling throat. I swallowed against a mouth
suddenly dry, wondering when I’d stop having flashbacks.

Rich was looking concerned when my eyes
focused again. For the space of a breath, I wondered if he could
possibly know the truth of his statement, then shook it off. No one
knew who hadn’t been there. The Sheriff had accepted our
statements. They’d found evidence in Patrick’s truck that linked
him with Rich and Molly’s kidnapping. It was all over.

“
I’m sorry,” he said. “I
shouldn’t have brought it up, I just—”

“
How’s Molly?” I
interrupted, trying for a smile and ending somewhere closer to a
wince.

“
Better since— Better.
Thank you.”

I nodded, not knowing what else to say.

From somewhere up the hall, a body thumped
into a locker and books crashed to the floor. I knew the culprits
even before I heard Amber’s shrill laugh. Leaning around Rich, I
could see the Barbie Squad surrounding some poor girl who was
crouched, trying to gather her books to stuff them in a patched
messenger bag. I didn’t recognize her face, but I recognized the
look. I’d worn it long enough myself. New kid. Fresh victim.

My wolf roused.

“
Excuse me,” I said, moving
around Rich and heading down the hall.

Amber didn’t see me coming. But Deanna did.
The smile slid off her face and she tapped Amber’s arm, nodding
toward me. Amber turned. There was a fleeting moment of panic that
flashed in her eyes before she buckled it down again and assumed
her natural haughty expression.

“
What are you doing?” I
didn’t raise my voice. But enough of a crowd gathered that I knew
that rumors of our little encounter at Hansen’s had to have spread.
I could smell the lust for violence on the air.

“
Nothing. Just welcoming
the new girl. Teaching her what her place is.”

My hands fisted and my wolf tried to stretch
beneath my skin.

Not now,
I told her.

I took a step toward Amber. She took a step
back. I took another, then another, until she retreated right into
the bank of lockers with a thud. I leaned in close, so I got a good
whiff of her fear and bared my teeth in a vicious grin. “The only
person here who needs to learn her place is you. Now we talked
about this, but maybe you need a bit of clarification. I won’t
stand for your bullying anymore. Not of me or anyone else. I see or
hear any evidence that you’re up to your old tricks again, and you
will answer to me.” I leaned in close, dropping my voice so only
she could hear. “And in case you need a reminder, I’ve gone up
against things much worse than the likes of you, and I’m the one
that walked away alive.”

I stayed leaned in a few seconds longer than
necessary, enjoying the scent of her fear and the sight of her
pulse beating rabbit-fast in her throat. My wolf had to be
satisfied with that.

“
Are we clear?” I asked
softly.

“
C . . . clear,” stuttered
Amber.

I stepped back. “Now apologize.”

“
Sorry Rachel.”

Rachel, who stood staring from Amber to me,
her bookbag clutched messily in her arms, muttered, “Thanks.”

Amber shoved through the crowd, bumping into
shoulders as she went, her entourage following in her wake.

Everybody’s eyes were fixed on me. Where
such attention used to make me nervous, now it just made me
straighten my back and glare. “Can I help y’all with something?” I
demanded.

Someone in the back of the crowd started
clapping. Then someone else joined in. And two others. And some
others. Until the entire assembled group lit up the hallway with
applause and catcalls.

“
Way to go!”

“
About damn
time!”

“
You go girl!”

I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks.
Okay, so I wasn’t immune to all attention these days. I turned from
the clapping students to Rachel, who still looked shell
shocked.

“
Welcome to Mortimer,
Rachel. I’m Elodie.” I held out my hand.

She took it, shook it numbly. “Who
are
you?”

“
I’m the girl Amber’s been
giving hell since the eighth grade. I grew a spine.” Actually, I’d
grown claws. “I don’t think she’ll be bothering you
again.”

The crowd was starting to disperse, and even
amid the competing scents I could smell his approach. Sawyer was
grinning as he appeared, slinging an arm around my shoulders and
tugging me in for a fast, dizzying kiss. I immediately felt my
headache wane.

“
You missed some
excitement,” I said breathlessly.

“
Oh no, I heard it from up
the hall. Nicely done, by the way.” He stuck his hand out to
Rachel. “Sawyer. Her other half.”

Rachel took it and gazed up at him with the
same star-struck, dopey grin that seemed to be the typical female
response to his smile. I’d been seeing variations of it all day on
practically every girl in school. How evolved was I, that I wasn’t
even jealous? Much. And, okay, maybe that was because they’d all
stared at me with such shock and envy when he’d made it abundantly
clear that he had eyes for no girl but me. His mate.

“
You good?” he was asking.
“Need a ride home or anything?”

“
Ah, no,” stammered Rachel.
“I have to meet with my Latin teacher. Thanks.”

“
See you around,” I
said.

With the arm around my shoulders, Sawyer
steered me toward the exit. “Well that confrontation went better
than you expected. No fangs. No claws. Amber’s still
breathing.”

“
It was easier to control
this time,” I admitted. “So how was your first day?”

In the end Sawyer hadn’t bothered to tell
his dad about the GED he’d earned. He decided to just stick around
and repeat his senior year with me.

“
Well Mr. Lester is trying
to decide if I’m a delinquent. Mrs. Rabinowitz is convinced I am a
zoology genius. And I’m pretty sure I got asked to join every sport
at Mortimer High. All in all, pretty good. You?”

I looked out at the emptying parking lot,
past the skater guys, across the way to the football field where
tryouts were already going and the cheerleaders were starting up
practice. I lifted my hand to return a couple of waves as I
considered the question. Then I felt a grin stretching my lips.

“
It was completely and
utterly . . . normal.”

And that was all I’d ever wanted.

~*~

Finis.

About the Author

Kait Nolan is stuck in an office all day,
sometimes juggling all three of her jobs at once with the skill of
a trained bear—sometimes with a similar temperament. After hours,
she uses her powers for good, creating escapist fiction. The work
of this Mississippi native is packed with action, romance, and the
kinds of imaginative paranormal creatures you’d want to sweep you
off your feet…or eat your boss.  When she’s not working or
writing, she’s in her kitchen, heading up a revolution to Retake
Homemade from her cooking blog, Pots and Plots.

You can catch up with her at her
website
,
Twitter
,
Facebook
,
Goodreads
,
and
Pots and Plots
.

Looking for more action-packed adventure?
Check out Kait’s Mirus series (
Forsaken By Shadow, Devil’s Eye,
Blindsight
), available wherever ebooks are sold. And don’t
forget to drop by her website and sign up for the newsletter to be
notified of upcoming and new releases!

An Excerpt from
Heroes
’Til Curfew
by Susan Bischoff

Joss

Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean
no one’s out to get you.

The thought went through my head in my dad’s
voice—I was that well programmed. That’s why I’d varied my
schedule, to throw off my stalker.

As I walked down the brick-paved road that
ran through the middle of the downtown pedestrian mall, my own
boots were the only ones I could hear beating the pavement. The
feelings I had weren’t the sensations of being followed and watched
that I had become familiar with over the last month or so. Tonight
was different.

It’s not like I’m that kind of psychic. I
don’t have any kind of extra-sensory perception or anything. It’s
just that, since I was a little kid, my dad trained me to pay
attention to my surroundings. At some point that kind of training
turns to instinct—an instinct that warned me something was up.

The economy of our town was not great, and
downtown was especially bad. Yeah, here and everywhere else in the
country, right? That left a lot of empty storefronts on the mall, a
lot of darkened glass windows that showed my reflection as I walked
by, a lone, dark-haired girl in a vintage army jacket and combat
boots, faking confidence in her stride.

Our store was at the far end of the mall and
I had to walk the whole length of it to get home. I was happy when
my dad started letting me walk home by myself, because I loved
walking it, the feeling of freedom in the night air, the quiet, the
glow of the converted gas lights. But making enemies, getting my
ass handed to me, getting to walk around with a bruised face for
weeks and all the attention that got me…that kind of thing changes
a girl, I guess.

I glanced over at the image of the confident
girl who moved from glass to glass beside me, at the dark alleyways
that opened up every few buildings, the looming, brick store
facades, and the shadows under awnings where the attractive but
weak lamplight didn’t reach. I listened hard to the sound of
nothing—too much nothing, it seemed to me—and tried not to think
about the cell phone in my pocket and of calling Dylan. Not because
I was some useless girl, afraid of the dark and in need of
rescuing, but just to hear his voice.

As if I would have the guts to just call up
Dylan.

I passed by the fountain that they didn’t
bother to put water in anymore, even in summer. More than one
person had used it for a giant trash can during the day.
Is that
really any better than throwing your trash right on the ground?
What’s wrong with people?

I don’t know what it was that made me take a
closer look as I walked by Dog-Eared. Mr. McGuffey closed the shop
at five o’clock. He always said that after dinner his customers
were all home reading, and he would be too. The lights were on low
in the front of the store, like usual. Over the piles of used books
stacked against the front windows, the tall bookcases created a
maze through the shop and stacks on the floor encroached on the
narrow aisles. But I guess that squeezing your way around Dog-Eared
is part of its charm.

There was a flare of light. Just a quick
something that was gone almost as I noticed it. Definitely not
right. Moving closer to the shop, I thought I saw a shadow of
movement, so I decided to duck down the alley and see if I could
see anything through the windows over there.

Now I’ll admit it: it’s not a great idea for
a girl, alone at night in a deserted downtown shopping area, to go
creeping down dark alleys to peep in store windows where suspicious
activity may or may not be taking place. But in my defense, I’m not
exactly an ordinary girl, and I was just going to have a look
anyway.

Through a window I could see the wide aisle
that ran across the back of the shop, in front of the door to the
back rooms. In that aisle were four boys doing bad things.

I recognized Jeff right off, even though his
back was to me. Maybe it was the Neanderthal posture. Standing next
to him was a smaller guy who looked vaguely familiar. Probably a
freshman. Across from Jeff was a tall guy I didn’t know, who looked
older than we were. Next to that guy was a sophomore, Nathan, who
was in my gym class last year.

Jeff and the freshman each had a pile of
books in front of them, and when I say pile, I mean it looked like
they’d just gathered up an armload and dumped them on the floor.
Nice. They were tossing these books, in sync with each other, into
the air in front of the other two. Who would then
d-i-s-i-n-t-e-g-r-a-t-e them. No, really, I kid you not. I don’t
know what Nathan was doing, but his book just turned to dust which
floated down to the carpet. The older guy’s book burst with a brief
flash of flame and then exploded into embers that glowed for a
second before they joined the mess of dust and ash on the
floor.

I shuddered.
Damn I hate fire
.

And fire in a bookshop? Genius. What a bunch
of idiots. Did they want to burn the place down? Start a fire that
would rip through all those stacks of books, choking the place with
thick, black smoke, trapping them all in that maze of bookshelves
as they crawled frantically along the floor, searching for the
exit, while the temperature—

I sat down hard in the alley and put my head
on my crossed legs, taking deep breaths of dirty, old cement and
the smell of my leather boots. It’s worth mentioning again: I hate
fire.

But what was I going to do, let them burn
down the store with their stupidity? Besides the fact that not even
stupid people deserved
that
experience, more importantly,
there was Mr. McGuffey. He used to bring me some tattered picture
book that was beyond selling every week when I was a little kid in
the store with my dad. I totally owe my love of reading to my
complete lack of a social life and the owner of Dog-Eared. So there
was no way I was going to just walk away.