Spellbound (the Spellbound Series Book 1) (7 page)

Now it’s my turn to say, “Holy shit.” In all my life, even the past few weeks, I never thought I’d be able to say that my best friend is a werewolf. I understand why Rachel was so reluctant to tell me the truth now. Or, at least, I think I do. I may not be “normal” (as if such a thing ever existed), but at least I could choose to walk away from being a spellcaster if I ever had a mind to. Rachel has no choice; every full moon, she will transform into a werewolf, whether she wants to or not. I know if I were in her shoes, I would feel more like an animal trapped in a corner than a human with a condition. I want to ask her so many questions, but judging by her expression, now is not the time. So I hug her tightly, and say, “I’m sorry you had to deal with all this on your own for so long.”

“It’s alright. I just didn’t think there was anyone to talk to about it. I was worried you would think I’m nuts.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I always thought you were nuts. But I’ve always got your back, regardless of your mental instability.”

“Gee, thanks.”

I know Rachel can only handle so much hugging, so I pull myself away from her before she complains about wanting back her personal space. “No more secrets?,” I ask her tentatively.

“No more secrets,” she confirms.

“Good.”

Rachel offers me a faint smile, and slips past me into the apartment. I follow her inside, and as the door clicks shut behind me, I realize it feels like a weight has lifted from my chest. I’d been worried what the people in my life would think of me if they knew what I am. I have no plans to tell anyone else, I’m not quite ready yet. But I’m glad that Rachel knows, and that both of us now know that we’re not alone.

Chapter 8

Mere seconds after I walk through the door, Landon comes bounding out of his room, looking like he’s in a rush. He’s shirtless, as usual, but carrying a black tank top in his hand. He waves at me as he walks down the hall. I wave back, and shake my head; I’m unaffected by his insistence on partial nudity, but I do notice that Rachel can’t keep her eyes off of his well-sculpted body. I consider telling her that she’s barking up the wrong tree, but I figure she’ll realize it on her own before long.

Landon sniffs the air once, and smiles. “You know, most people don’t get to see me like this until after a date or two. Consider yourself lucky, pup.”

Rachel’s face flushes until it’s nearly as red as her hair, and she looks down at the ground. “Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t expect anyone like me to be here.”

Anyone like me… I don’t remember telling her that Landon was a werewolf. Then again, she and Nick each seemed to know what the other was without ever saying a word. Maybe certain supernatural beings give off particular scents, and you need a strong nose like that of a vampire or werewolf to detect them.

Landon takes a moment to put on the tank top he brought out with him, and says, “There are more of us than you think. In fact, I’m part of a support group for people like us. People who need a place to go where they feel safe to talk.” Landon hands Rachel a card that reads
The Pack
in large letters, and says, “You should come. I’ve seen a lot of young weres benefit from attending a few meetings.”

“When do you guys meet?,” Rachel asks. She seems to have already decided to go.

“Every full moon, a couple of hours before sundown, at the address on the card,” Landon replies. He then turns to me. “You’re welcome to come too, Heather, the meetings aren’t were-exclusive. You can just show support and enjoy the free food.”

I glance at Rachel, who gives me a pleading look that I interpret as, “please don’t make me go alone.” So I nod, and say, “Sure, I’d love to come.”

“Cool. I have to go meet with someone at the MOMA who said she might consider putting up a few of my paintings, so I’ll see you guys around.” Landon checks the time on his phone, then looks back up and says, “It was nice meeting you…”

“Rachel.”

“Landon. Hope I see you next week.” Landon grabs a carefully folded shirt from a nearby laundry basket, then heads back into his room to finish getting dressed.

Rachel isn’t quite as familiar with Manhattan as the rest of us, so when we’re ready to leave, Nick and I escort her to a nearby subway station. Before we say our goodbyes, she asks, “Mind if I join you guys again sometime?”

I look at Nick, who nods, and says, “You’re welcome to come over whenever.”

“Coolios. I gotta go, but I’ll be seeing you.” Rachel waves to us, then vanishes down the steps to the 6 train, leaving Nick and I alone at last. I wrap my warm arm around his cold one, and we continue east to my place.

The trip home is unusually silent, mostly because I have a lot on my mind. Nick is likewise tight-lipped, but I can only guess as to why. He almost looks nervous, which is unusual in itself; he’s usually maintained his cool around me. Besides, he’s handsome, and intelligent, and he has a healthy sense of humor… it doesn’t seem to me he has nothing to be nervous about, ever. At least, not around a girl like me.

As my building comes into view, I think of a conversation topic that might pull him out of his shell a little. “Say, Nick… why do you walk me home every night?”

Nick’s caught off guard by the question, but he answers without hesitation. “Because spending time with you is always the highlight of my day.”

My face turns hot, and I’m thankful that it’s dark enough that he can’t see me blush. I hadn’t been expecting that particular answer, and while I’m glad he feels that way, it could really mean anything. Is he trying to say that he likes me, or is he just being nice? I give Nick a quick hug as we say goodnight, the possible implications of his words swimming around in my head, and step into the welcoming light that is my building’s lobby.

My mom is usually home by now, but since the apartment is empty, I assume that she’s either out with Captain Douche, or working overtime. Dinner’s already in the microwave, so I set the timer and head to my room to put down my bookbag. I pull my stuff out of the bag onto my bed, and a green envelope I’ve never seen before falls out from between two of my textbooks. There’s no name on it, but since the envelope is the exact same shade of green as my eyes, I can tell who slipped it into my bag automatically. When he looks at me, his eyes always seem to be fixed on mine. I open the envelope excitedly, and pull out a sheet of paper covered in beautifully written script.

Heather,

First of all, I’m sorry that I’m telling you all of this through a letter. I’d much rather have this discussion in person, but every time I try to start it, the words won’t come out. Hence, the letter you’re reading right now.

Second, I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant lately. I’m not used to opening up to people, so when I realized that I felt comfortable talking openly about myself with you, I got scared. I tried to pull myself away, but the damage is done. For better or worse, I’m drawn to you.

When I was forced into this life, I assumed I would never be able to open my heart again, so I never made an attempt. Then I met you, and I felt myself gradually remembering what it feels like to care about someone the way I’m coming to care about you. Now, I’m dealing with feelings that haven’t surfaced in years, and it goes against my better judgment, but I want you, and that’s so terrifying.

Even more terrifying is waiting to see how you’ll respond to my next question; how would you feel about going out next Friday night? I’d like to see if we’re compatible on a romantic level, or if I’m just imagining things.

Take your time to think about it if you need. Don’t worry, I’m not freaking out at all.

Sincerely,

Nick

Surprisingly, there is little thought given to my answer. It’s as if something slides into place in my mind, and I no longer have any doubts whatsoever. The feeling is more mutual than I’d initially realized. The next day, after school, I walk to Nick as calmly as I can, though I’ve been anticipating this moment since last night. For a moment, neither of us says a word. He asks, “What’s your answer?”

I have half a mind to give him a sarcastic response, just for the fun of it. But instead, I look up into his soft brown eyes, noting the contained panic behind them, and say, “I’d love to.”

***

Friday can’t come fast enough. My mind wanders to the upcoming date every few minutes, and I can hardly focus on anything else. Nick seems to be as excited as I am; he never says so, but whenever I glance his way, I catch him watching me and just smiling. Krystal gives me Friday night off, so I won’t be sweaty and in pain for our date, which is a major plus. Finally, the big day arrives, and as usual, Nick is waiting for me after school. This time, however, he’s walking me straight home; I’d let him know beforehand that I would want to clean myself up a little, and change my clothes.

Thankfully, I’d spent all of last night freaking out over what to wear, so I just throw on the preset outfit, brush my hair, spray on a little perfume, and I’m ready to go. I would put on makeup, but I rarely ever use anything more complex than lip gloss, even on special occasions. Besides, Nick decided he liked me when I was rocking the natural look, and I don’t want to end up taking too long.

Nick’s leaning against the mailboxes in my lobby when I come back downstairs. I realize that when I look at him lately, I’m noticing something new every time. I mean, I’ve noticed before, obviously, but I never quite paid attention to the tiny flecks of gold in Nick’s brown eyes, or the way he only shows his upper teeth when he smiles at me, or the small dent on the side of his nose. I wonder if he notices similar things about me, or if there’s even anything about me worth noticing.

As I wrap my arm around Nick’s, he whispers to me, “You look beautiful.”

Usually, the only person who can call me beautiful without me calling them a liar is my mother. When Nick says it, however, I don’t get the urge to challenge his opinion. My cheeks start to burn, and I just whisper back, “Thank you.”

We haven’t entirely decided on where to go yet, so Nick and I walk up to Fifth Avenue, and turn south to walk along Central Park. It’s been snowing off and on the past couple of days, and the whole park is covered in a thin blanket of white. We weave through the slow-moving crowds of tourists, and observe the park’s transformation into a winter wonderland, all while debating whether we should eat at Panera Bread or Uno’s. I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation; I’m the only one that can actually digest the food we decide on, so I should have the final say. Nick seems to realize this around the same time I do, and he laughs as he says, “Alright, you pick.”

I decide on a restaurant called Thai 51 that my mom and I enjoy. It’s about forty blocks away from where we are, but I’m not complaining. The long walk just means more time spent with Nick. By the time we get there, the sky is turning vibrant shades of orange and pink, and the street lamps are just beginning to flicker on. The restaurant I picked doesn’t particularly stand out from the rest of the block, but the inside brings a pleasant surprise; it’s nowhere near as busy as they are on a usual Friday night. Tonight, a soothing love song is playing over the radio, the lights are dimmed way down, and we have the whole restaurant to ourselves.

The setting is almost too romantic for me to believe it was a coincidence. I turn to Nick, and ask, “Did you plan this?”

He smiles at me, but he’s shaking his head. “You picked this place, remember? I guess we just have good luck.”

We take a seat by the window, and the only waiter in sight hands us a couple of menus. Nick stares at his menu for a moment, then asks, “Any chance they have O positive on tap?”

“Sadly, no,” I tell him, “but their pad thai is amazing.”

“I wouldn’t know… I’ve never tried Thai food before.”

“Really?”

“No, I was more of a baked ziti kind of guy… God, I miss solid food.”

A couple of silent minutes pass, and the waiter comes back, asking what we’d like to order. I ask for a plate of pad tamarind with chicken, while Nick simply says he isn’t hungry. It seems like now that we’re no longer “just friends”, we’re back to square one; neither of us knows what to say to the other. After a couple more minutes of awkward silence, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “So, there’s something you’ve never explained.”

“Hm?” Nick looks up from the list of specials he was reading.

“Why did you save me, back when we first met?”

“Well, I was in the neighborhood, and I heard a bang from inside that burned out building. I figured that wasn’t normal, and when I peeked in to investigate, there you were, collapsed on the ground by the entrance. So I picked you up, and I would have just pulled you out, but then I noticed your eyes… and that’s when I made the decision to stay and fight.”

“What’s so special about my eyes?” Nick doesn’t answer, but instead lets his gaze drop to the table between us. I lean in a little closer, and ask, “Why won’t you tell me? You know so much about me, but I rarely ever get to learn anything about you.”

Nick sighs, and says, “Okay… Your eyes reminded me of my little sister, Caroline. Hers were the same exact shade of green, and I loved her like there was no tomorrow. She was the only one out of my entire family that didn’t treat me any differently after I turned. So, I would bring her home after school on some days, but on one of those days, an older vampire tailed us home… Before I could unlock the door and get Caroline inside, the intruder knocked me out, and drained my little sister until there was nothing left of her but sagging skin and a tiny pile of bones.”

He doesn’t need to explain any further. I’ve never had a brother or sister of any age, so I can’t imagine what losing a sibling must feel like. But I know that if I met someone that reminded me of them afterwards, I wouldn’t let them out of my sight. I reach my hand over the table and place it on top of Nick’s, since I can’t think of anything to say.

Nick shifts his hand so that his fingers can interlock with mine, and continues quietly, “Anyway, that was what drove me to swear off of human blood. I didn’t want to become like the woman that killed Caroline. I didn’t want to become the monster everyone else saw when they looked at me.”