Brush With Death (5 page)

I
couldn’t
believe what Emma was telling me, and yet the evidence had been there all
along.  How could I have been so blind?

“If you don’t blink soon, I’m force feeding you one of my
teas,” Emma said.

That snapped me out of my funk.  Emma’s herbal teas and
tinctures may help heal wounds, but they tasted awful.  I wouldn’t risk
drinking one unless suffering from a serious injury. 

Too bad she didn’t have a tea for healing a broken heart.

I thought I’d been a good boyfriend, but now I was beginning
to wonder.  How could I have been so unaware of what Yuki was going through?

I should have known it would be terrifying to walk that
hallway every day to class.  I could have offered to walk her past the supply
closet door, so she didn’t have to endure the fear alone.  I would have changed
my class schedule to be there for her.  But I hadn’t been there for her, hadn’t
even noticed that something was wrong.

Should have, could have, would have—never helped anyone at
all.  I was slipping back into a depressed stupor, focusing on the past, but
Yuki needed me now.  We had to figure out how to help her before things got any
worse.

I rubbed my face briskly.

“What do you propose we do?” I asked. 

Emma would have a plan, she always had a plan.  She probably
went to the library and spent hours doing research before coming here.  She’d
know what to do.

“I have no idea,” she said.

My stomach twisted and depression was replaced by fear.

“You said she has classic PTSD symptoms,” I said.  “Did you
read that in a book?”

“Yes, and a medical journal,” she said.

The claws in my gut stopped their twisting.  Emma may be
dating my roommate, but she hadn’t changed one bit.  For some reason, that gave
me hope.

“Okay, so we need to find out what those books recommend we
do to help a person with PTSD,” I said.  “Do you remember anything?”

“They said to let the person know that they can talk about
the traumatic event, and to help them get professional counseling,” she said. 
“Talking is important.”

Emma explained the symptoms of PTSD and the need for discussing
the traumatic event and rebuilding trust.

 “Good, I’ll go over there now,” I said.  I stood, grabbing
my keys.  “I’ll try to get Yuki talking about what happened to her.”

“What should I do?” Emma asked.

Emma bit her lip and her hands fidgeted with a long strand
of hair.  I was glad that Emma was worried about Yuki.  They may be fighting,
but at least Emma still cared.

“I’ll call you later,” I said.  “Hopefully, by the time I
call, everything will have sorted itself out.  I’m sure Yuki will agree to
counseling once she realizes just how serious this is.”

I sounded more confident than I felt.  Yuki was stubborn,
and even I’d noticed her flashes of anger lately.  I’d chalked them up to
graduation jitters, but now that I knew how common angry outbursts were for
people with PTSD, I worried about how badly Yuki’s fear was eating her up
inside.  Would she agree to counseling, or lash out?

“Okay, I’m having dinner with Simon later, but call any
time,” she said.  “I’ll keep my ringer on.  And Cal?  Don’t hesitate to call
for backup.  I know how Yuki can get when she’s upset.  Sometimes she just
needs a hot bath and a good cry.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Emma nodded once and walked out the door. 

I grabbed my shoes and started pulling them on, rushing to
tie the laces.  The door creaked open again and I looked up to see Simon lope
in. 

He’d been for a run.  His hands and feet were caked with mud
and small pieces of grass and leaves clung to his hair.

“Hey, I’m on my way out,” I said.  “I need to go see Yuki,
but, man, you may want to try talking to Emma later.  She seems really
worried.”

“Maybe you should focus on your own love life before giving
other people advice,” he said. 

Simon ground the words through clenched teeth while his wolf
danced behind his eyes.  It may not be the full moon, but strong emotions could
bring our wolves to the surface.  But Simon usually had more control.  It would
take more than an off the cuff remark to force Simon’s wolf to the surface. 

Something else must be preying on his mind.  Best diffuse
the situation by apologizing.  I didn’t have time for a fight with Simon.  I
needed to go see Yuki.

 “Look, I’m sorry,” I said.  “I’m worried about Yuki.”

 “You should be worried, mate,” he said. 

Simon looked me straight in the eye, something most
werewolves don’t do now that I am alpha.  He was serious.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked. 

“I know how you and Yuki disapprove of my relationship with
Emma,” he said.  “You say it’s because I’m older.  There may be an age gap between
us, but at least I’m not holding her back.”

My mouth went dry and my stomach twisted as the bottom fell
out of my happy little world.  Was I really holding Yuki back?  Would she be
better off without me?

Before Emma’s revelation, I wouldn’t have believed it.  I
would have told Simon to go cool off.  But pieces of the puzzle were falling
together and it was all happening so fast.  It was like being trapped inside an
expert level of Tetris. 

The sky was falling and I had no idea where to run, or how
to protect the one I love.

I
angled my
bike toward the park, enjoying the way the afternoon sun’s rays cut through the
planted trees lining the path.  The golden glow reminded me of contented
ghosts.  I smiled and pedaled faster.

I hoped to find a nice outdoor location for my painting. 
Cal loved nature and the outdoors.  But I wasn’t a big fan of traipsing through
thick woods—mosquitoes, black flies, and spiders, oh my!—so I chose the park. 

Of course, Wakefield Park was huge.  I came to a halt just
inside the park entrance.  A duck pond surrounded by benches lay to my right,
trails branched off to my left, and a series of sports fields and tennis courts
lay just beyond the small amphitheater on the path straight ahead.

I was going to hurry to the benches around the duck pond,
but the heady scent of roses filled my head.  I swayed on my feet, struggling
to keep my bicycle upright.  I looked around, ignoring the spinning in my head,
but there were no rose bushes in sight.

An aching pressure grew beneath my temples and I winced. 
This was no ordinary scent.  A ghost lingered in this park and I was sensing
the smell impression that their spirit had left behind.

The smell impression was complicated, rose fragrance mixed
with two other scents.  But the smell of roses was definitely the strongest and
most easily identifiable. 

A second scent reminded me of a sweater my mom made for me
when she was going through her knitting phase.  The sweater hung lower on one
side and the collar was really too small for my head to fit through, but it was
wearable.  I grinned at the memory.

My mom was always trying some new hobby to fill her one day
off each week.  Don’t even get me started on her glue-gun phase—that was a
total nightmare.  The knitting wasn’t too terrible, but the yarn she used for
that sweater was some kind of natural handspun, hand dyed wool that smelled
funny.  I worried that it made me smell like wet dog, though I guess it really
was more like oily sheep. 

That’s right.  Mom said the smell was from lanolin, natural
oil found on sheep wool.  I was definitely sensing a ghost and it smelled like
roses and lanolin…and something else.

The third smell was harder to place.  I closed my eyes and
used a yoga breathing Cal had taught me, and the focusing techniques Simon had
drilled into my head, to center my thoughts on the smell impression.  Bird song
faded as everything dropped away, leaving only the ghost and its complicated
smell.

An acrid chemical smell itched at my nose.  It had a slight
vinegar-like odor, but it definitely wasn’t the pure vinegar scent of Jackson’s
ghost.  The third scent may not be Jackson, but the smell was familiar.  I
spread out my awareness, trying to take in more of the smell impression. 

I was like a sommelier at a wine tasting, breathing in the
psychic sent and rolling it along the tongue.  If I let my concentration slip
and thought about how gross it was to have a ghost in my mouth, I’d probably
vomit.  This part of working with ghosts was totally gag-worthy. 

But I was getting better at it.

My mad ghost smelling skills finally unearthed the mystery
scent.  The chemical smell with a slight vinegar tang reminded me of the school
darkroom.  I had been in there often enough with Emma and Gordy to recognize
the smell, but couldn’t be sure if it indicated developer or stop bath
chemicals.  Either way, I now knew more than I did before.

This ghost had some connection to photography. 
Interesting.

“Hey, Rose,” I whispered.  The ghost smelled mostly of
roses, so Rose it is.  Well, until I find out what its real name was.  “Do you
need help?”

Stupid question.  My head filled with the cloying scent of
roses and I wretched.  Of course it needed help.  It was a ghost.

I gripped the handlebars of my bike with sweating hands and
pushed down the urge to hurl.  Okay, Yuki.  Just figure out what the smelly
ghost wants.  Then it’s painting time.

“Um, can you back off just a little?” I asked.  “I can’t
help you if I pass out.”

The weight on my lungs lifted and clean air rushed in.  I
opened my eyes to see a golden shimmer hovering above a trail to my left. 
There you are.

“Okay, I’ll try to follow you,” I said. 

The glow brightened and the smell increased.  Apparently,
that was exactly what the spirit wanted to hear. 

My boots found their way onto the pedals again and I started
down the shadowed hiking path, leaving the duck pond behind.

“B
ack off,”
Calvin growled.

“Is that an order?” I asked. 

I could feel my lip curl as my wolf gnashed its teeth.  Over
the past few weeks, I had watched Emma become more and more upset as her
friends betrayed her, as my alpha betrayed me, with their harsh disapproval. 

Yuki and Calvin were supposedly the perfect bloody couple
who no one else could possibly equal, until now.  Well they set the bar too
sodding high now didn’t they?  The two soul mates who had been judgmental of
our relationship from the start had their own issues.  Yuki was suffering and
Calvin, who claimed to be so in tune with her feelings, had no idea. 

I had been struggling with my feelings for weeks and now I
had an outlet for my bottled up anger.  I was itching for a fight.

“No,” Calvin said, shaking his head.  “No it’s not an order. 
I’m sorry.  I don’t want to fight you.”

If he wouldn’t fight, then I had to run.  I needed to feel
the wind on my face…and blood on my muzzle.

I stalked away, nearly taking the door off its hinges in my
rush to get outdoors and unleash my wolf.  I shifted in a flash of silver fur,
bones aching as I hurried the transformation.  I ran into the woods, away from
Calvin, away from Yuki, and away from the reminders of my tormented past.

Spittle formed at my mouth and flew behind me as the wind
hit my face.  I raced through the forest, dodging trees and boulders at deadly
speed.  I should slow down.  Braining myself on a rock or tree wouldn’t do me
any good, but my wolf spirit wanted to run and I was too upset to wrestle him
back into submission.

No, my wolf wasn’t who I wanted to fight.  I grinned, the
air cool on my exposed teeth.  I wouldn’t attack Calvin, of course, but I was
in no shape for my dinner date with Emma.  She already drove me crazy—her wry
smile, her hair, her smell—there was no way that I could meet her like this.  I
was going to have to blow off some steam.

I needed to hunt.

I caught the scent of a white-tailed deer and pushed myself
to run faster.  I grinned so widely that all now all of my teeth were exposed
to the wind.  All the better to eat you with
my
deer
.

Emma would kill me if she found out about my pre-dinner
snack.  She didn’t approve of killing animals for food and wouldn’t appreciate the
thrill of the hunt that already pushed adrenaline through my veins.

I slowed, grin faltering, but shook my head.  Sod it.  A man
has needs, right?

I licked my lips and nose and continued my pursuit.

S
imon’s angry
words continued to ring in my ears.
She’s better off without you, mate.

I needed to go to Yuki and confront her about Emma’s fears. 
I had to know if she was okay.  But did I really have the right to dredge up
that nightmare moment from her past?  Was I the best person for the job?  Or
was I, as Simon stated, holding her back?

I thought that I was good for Yuki, and her for me, but had
I been the only one to reap the benefits? 

I tried to look at my relationship with Yuki objectively.  She’d
been placed in the face of danger more than once because of me.  When I
couldn’t control my wolf, I came close to tearing Yuki and Emma apart.  Later,
when a deranged werewolf began hunting his own kind, Yuki again got caught in
the cross-fire.  And when she was in a horrible accident, I did nothing to
help. 

Sure, I lent her my support and love, but that wasn’t
enough.  Maybe, it never would be. 

I sighed and shook my head.  Sulking and worrying over
Simon’s words wasn’t helping Yuki.  I pulled out my phone and hit speed dial,
needing to hear her voice.  But the call went to voicemail.

That was strange.  Yuki almost always had her cell on, even
in class.  With her parents working late, it would be foolish not to keep her
phone with her.  She was alone in that old house.  What if she fell down the
stairs or slipped on the bathroom floor?

Worry stabbed my chest and made my blood run cold.  I
grabbed my keys and ran to my truck.