Haunted Sanctuary (Green Pines Sanctuary) (24 page)

Silence in the hallway, not even footsteps. And then Christian’s voice rang out from nowhere. “You might as well put it down, sweetheart.”

Eden edged into the doorway and peeked in both directions. The short hallway leading to the front bedrooms stood empty, all of the doors still shut. To the right, the craft and sitting room was a cluttered mess, stuffed with Mae’s sewing and stacks of unpacked boxes, but no wolf. Not unless he was hunched in the blind corner opposite the sliding door.

Lifting the gun, she took one careful step forward. “I won’t have any problem shooting you.”

“Won’t you?”

The disembodied whisper shivered past her. Eden spun toward the front of the house again, but no one was there.

The metallic taste had returned, sharp and bitter in her mouth. Magic. “You’re such a fucking coward you need to hide from a bunch of women and a crying kid?” she demanded, straining to listen for the reply. It
had
to have a direction.

A low, husky laugh. “Do those mind games work on the shitheads around here?”

She swung in the direction of the sound and fired, but the bullet dug uselessly into the far wall. “I’m not the one playing hide and seek.”

“No.” A door slammed across the hall—Zack’s door. “How many bullets will that little gun hold? How many have you fired?”

Eden groped behind her for the doorknob and hauled the door shut behind her. With her back against the solid wood, Christian couldn’t get into the room without going through her.

She almost hoped he’d try. Right now she thought she could gladly rip out his throat without shifting forms first. “Almost enough bullets to bring backup. Want me to fire a few more out the window to bring the men running?”

“You could try.” A force slammed into her hand, knocking the gun free. It landed with a thump and skittered down the hall.

Human instinct screamed for her to lunge after it. Her muscles tensed in anticipation of a move, but her wolf flowed up and snatched control, flooding her with steely resolve.

The weakest members of her pack were behind the door at her back. She wasn’t budging until the threat against them was dying or already dead.

Human sight was only a distraction. She closed her eyes and reached out with that part of her that could slide down the bond connecting her to Jay. He’d closed his emotions off from her, undoubtedly to keep her from worrying, but she wasn’t grasping for him. She was reaching out, out, out, feeling beyond herself with a new awareness.

Instinct.

She felt Lorelei. Mae. The shattered pieces of a woman that must be Tammy, and the terror of her son. Two males, tired and hopeless, reeking of defeat and resigned to death.

And metal. Stinging cold and deadly. Not a wolf—a spell meant to hide one. It flowed toward her in a rush, and she jerked aside just before a force crashed into the door directly where her head had been.

Eden flung her hand toward the sick pulse of magic and closed her fingers around empty air. Except it wasn’t empty—it was a tangible force that singed her palm, a warning jolt that raised every hair on her body as if lightning was about to obliterate her. Screaming her defiance, she tightened her grip and jerked hard, tearing the spell from its anchor.

The wooden disc burned in her hand, and Christian Peters appeared in front of her, his mouth already curling into a sneer.

Then he punched her in the face. It knocked her wits sideways, and that was his fatal mistake.

Eden’s mind skittered in a thousand panicked directions, and instinct took over. Her wolf knew nothing about fighting in human skin, but she knew plenty about vulnerable spots and pressing an advantage.

An opponent who laughed smugly instead of swinging again was an advantage. While Christian was still congratulating himself for planting his fist in Eden’s face, she whipped around, caught him by the shirt and slammed him face first into the wall with all the werewolf strength she still couldn’t control.

He didn’t make that mistake again. He shook off the blow with a growl and kicked at her knee. Fast, but not faster than her. She wrenched to the side and lunged past him, raking her fingers down his face. She left bloody furrows in her wake, marks that would sting but not slow him down.

That was all right. Hurt his body, sting his pride. Awkward and ineffective fighting was a trap that could lure him away from the people she needed to protect. She backed down the hall and scrambled for the gun. He’d have to follow her, if only to keep her from shooting him in the back.

His hand slammed into her shoulder, and she pitched forward into the wall. Christian loomed over her, snarling, and grabbed her by the hair. The movement lifted his arm, and she drove her elbow back into his ribs hard enough to crack bone. His fingers tightened reflexively, ripping at her hair, but she ignored the pain. Instead, she used those scant seconds to tear free of his grip with so much pain she wondered faintly how much of her scalp she’d left behind.

Footsteps sounded too loudly behind her, Christian already recovered and advancing again. She crashed into the table where Mae did her sewing and, whispering a silent apology, snatched up the fancy new sewing machine and whirled, swinging it at his injured side.

Too slow. He slid to the side and the machine crashed through the sliding glass door and slammed against the porch railing.

“That wasn’t smart.” He locked his arm around her throat and squeezed—hard.

She fought to twist away, but he had almost as much werewolf strength and
far
more human bulk. This time he was braced against her elbows. Trying to kick him only resulted in him hefting his arm up until her toes barely dragged against the ground.

No air. She couldn’t draw in breath, and werewolves needed it. They must need it. If she rolled her eyes to the right, she could see the door to Quinn’s room. The memory of his body flashed through her mind unbidden, dangling from a rope, discolored and lifeless—

No.
Eden groped for the table again, fingers scrambling over fabric and fringed tassels—the curtains Mae had been sewing. Then her fingertips brushed something hard.

With the edges of the room already graying in her vision, she fumbled the curtains aside and closed her hand around the long metal fabric scissors. She remembered purchasing them with Fletcher’s money, remembered him urging her to get the large expensive set that would
last
instead of something cheap and plastic.

God bless him.

Gripping the handle, she whipped the pointy end of those massive, shiny shears around to sink into Christian’s gut.

He screamed, a sound full of as much rage as pain, and footsteps thundered down the hall. Lorelei and Mae, though it was hard to make out their faces with the room swimming. Mae turned toward the head of the stairs but stopped and threw open the second-floor window with a cry for help.

Eden ignored them both and stabbed Christian again. The scissors grew slick with blood, and she shifted her grip, weaving her fingers through the handhold as she sank the blades deep and twisted until he dropped her.

Air rushed into her lungs, sparking pain and a dizzy sense of giddiness. She wanted to bend over and gasp in deep breaths until she was drunk on oxygen, but the wolf wouldn’t rest with an unfallen adversary behind her. Spinning around, she met Christian’s dark, shocked gaze and sank the blood-slicked scissors into his throat.

She followed him down, and she didn’t let go until Lorelei covered her bloodied hands and tugged. “He’s dead, Eden. Gone.”

Christian was still under her. Silent. His blood covered Eden’s body, soaked through her bra and jeans and slicked over her skin. So much blood, and he wasn’t bleeding anymore. He was dead. Not breathing, not moving, not bleeding
dead
.

She still couldn’t ease her grip on the scissors. “Are they fighting in the front yard? Can you see through the window?”

“They’re coming in,” Mae called down the hallway, even as footsteps pounded up the stairs.

Jay stumbled onto the top landing, his bare feet sliding in the blood that slicked the floor. His throat worked, and he gripped the edge of the open doorway, his voice low and full of dread. “Eden—”

She found every mark on him. Scratches that were all but healed, deeper wounds that knit together even as she watched. She cataloged them because it was the only thing she could do, because her fingers still weren’t unclenching and God, he was
alive
. “I can’t let go.”

He was by her side in an instant, his body wrapped half around hers even as he knelt beside her. “It’s okay.” He closed his hand around hers and pressed his lips to her temple. “Just breathe.”

Breathing brought the sharp scent of blood, metallic and overwhelming. Eden squeezed her eyes shut and fought to block out everything but his touch. “I’m okay. I promise. I’m just…”

Jay trembled. “How the hell did he get in here?”

“He had a—a thing…”

“A charm,” Mae supplied, holding up a bit of leather strung through a wooden disc.

“A charm.” Taking in another slow breath, Eden released the scissors and turned her hand palm up. Under the blood, just below her middle finger, an angry burn mark marred her skin. “I couldn’t see him, but I could feel the magic.”

Jay hissed in a breath, his questing fingers hovering just over her palm. “Fletcher and Colin are handling things outside. Mae, go tell Stella to make a sweep, check for more magic like that.” He touched Eden’s hand finally, a light brush across her wrist. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Looking down was a mistake. She was straddling Christian, her knees in a pool of blood that seemed to go on for miles. It covered everything, soaking into her jeans, clinging to her bare skin, covering her in tangible proof of what she’d done.

Easy to say she wanted to rip the bastard’s throat out. Facing the gruesome, bloody truth of it—

She jerked her gaze away and found Lorelei hovering there, eyes worried, ready to step forward and help. Ready to take care of Eden.

She shouldn’t have to, and that stiffened Eden’s spine just enough. Somehow she kept her voice even as she let Jay help her to her feet. “Can you go check on Tammy and the others? And close the door. I don’t want her son to see me when we walk by.”

“Don’t worry about that right now.” He slipped his arm around her waist, supporting her when her knees might have buckled.

Worrying about it was silly, but it kept her together as Jay half-carried her down the hallway and into the upstairs bathroom. Mae and Kaley’s soap and toiletries cluttered half of the double sink, with only Zack’s razor and toothbrush as proof he existed at all.

“Zack,” she whispered, stumbling toward the tub. “Are Zack and Kaley all right?”

“Fletcher found them.” Jay turned her around and tugged at the hooks fastening her bra. “They had to fight a handful of the Memphis wolves, but they made out okay.”

He peeled the sticky fabric from her chest, and Eden shuddered and closed her eyes. “I need to learn how to fight. Teach me. Promise.”

“We all need to learn a lot of things.” He unbuttoned her jeans. “I’ll get the water running.”

He bent toward the faucet as she struggled with her jeans, shoving the fabric down her legs in jerky stages, as if she could only concentrate on one tiny task at a time. Details. Little details, like the bite mark on Jay’s shoulder, or the linoleum peeling up in the corner, or the way her zipper felt cold under her feet when she stumbled free. If she focused on the details, then the world didn’t have to be real.

Jay’s quiet voice broke through the haze. “I’m sorry I didn’t—that I wasn’t in here with you.”

“No. No, Jay…” The numbness shattered when she touched him, and she clung to his shoulders and buried her face against his throat. “I can be strong for them, as long as I get to be freaked out with you.”

He locked his arms around her waist as steam began to billow up around them. “I knew this wouldn’t be an easy fight. I never wanted you to have to deal with this, but not because I thought you couldn’t. I didn’t have any doubts about that.”

Truth. It had a scent, a feeling, like the words took up more space. They echoed in her bones and she turned her ear to his chest, savoring the strong, steady beat of his heart. With him she was utterly safe, and no one should have to wait until they were thirty-two to know how that felt.

Her father had tried, but he’d made mistakes. The only way to be whole was to admit it. “I’m sorry I got defensive about my dad and Zack. I think I’m afraid to be mad at them.”

“No, hey. Come on.” He lifted her into the shower and climbed in after her. His hands moved with an efficiency that spoke of experience, of the fact that this was far from the first time he’d washed blood from flesh. “You don’t need to be thinking about that right now.”

“I do.” She tilted her head back and wiped beads of water from his cheeks. “I lie to myself about how I grew up. I pretend none of it hurt me because I wasn’t as bad off as Zack, and I tell myself my dad was great because he wasn’t Albus. I couldn’t let myself get angry about it, because it wouldn’t be fair to people like you and Zack, people who were
hurt
by their parents. Really, actually hurt.”

Jay stroked some of the tangles from her hair. “There’s more than one way to be hurt, Eden. And hurting for someone else can be just as bad.”