NOT DEAD YET: A Lucy Hart, DEATHDEALER Novel (Book Two) (3 page)

But this wasn’t reality, or a memory, this was Delia’s mind torturing her.  This was her being hunted down by Lucy Hart.  And in her dreams Lucy wasn’t just some fragile, metaphysically gifted teenager who had just gotten lucky.  She was a monster—sleek and dark and merciless.  Enough so that Delia felt some admiration toward her murderer, yet still she went mad with fear every time she set sights on Lucy Hart. 

There was a name flickering, echoing in the back of her mind whenever she saw Lucy this way, though she could never make it out, and she knew, just knew that it wasn’t her own voice saying it. 

But just the soft whisper of the indecipherable word made her body turn frozen with fear.

So that was what Delia Tokar was used to seeing in her dream prison, in her imposed slumber, her jail.  Visions, fantasies of her vengeance upon her lover and the one for whom he’d forsaken her. That and her own hunting and death by the hand of the same little blood-sack.

So when she’d opened her eyes, feeling that the sun was high in the daylight sky, she was surprised to see all that blue. 

And it was a hell of a lot of blue.  A vast, never ending sea of blue, stretching as far as her eyes could see.  She could feel, too, that what she was seeing was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.  That even as immense as it all seemed, the thing before her was ten, a hundred times bigger, and endlessly powerful. 

Just as she could feel that, and that it was maybe as old as time itself—it was looking right back at her.  No eyes.  No, just an endless, unreal blue that quivered and rolled like the waves of the ocean, but was so clearly not water. 

Delia didn’t know whether she was upright looking straight at it, or if she were hovering over it looking down.  But it didn’t matter.  Everything was so peaceful, so quiet.  Except when she’d close her eyes, even for a moment, it felt as if a gale force wind would slice across her, pulling at her like a thousand eager hands trying to snatch her away.

Delia waited in the silence of this new daylight dream, but nothing happened.  For so very long there wasn’t the slightest change, just the gentle throb and glow and flow of the great blue sea of power. 

That was what it was.  Power.  Power like Delia had never seen or imagined.

Finally, just as Delia took a breath to speak, to ask what it wanted, a low, contralto female voice answered her unspoken question. 

To help you get what you so very much want.

~*~  

As she’d told them, Lucy showered and changed in less than ten minutes.  She’d forgone washing her hair, and ended up putting it into a hopefully elegant twist.  She did take time to remove and reapply her makeup, though—any woman of Vivian Enoch’s stature would be able to spot a sloppy makeup touch up a mile away, and she didn’t want to give the ice queen any more ammunition. 

She already looked upon Lucy as a parasite, a money hungry gold digger—which in all truth she was...  well, she had been...  maybe she still was—but she was something else that was far more important: she was in love with the ice queen’s son.

Gabriel followed Lucy in his midnight blue Jaguar—it was funny that a wolf drove an expensive car named after a cat.  But there wasn’t a high class automobile named after any wolf, not as far as Lucy knew. Maybe that should be a new line for Enoch Industries?  High end items designed and named specifically for the affluent werewolf.

Lucy smiled at the idea, but then a thought stole across her mind and made her tense up like a spring.  Gram and her mother were both alone with Vivian Enoch.  Well, Gabriel’s father, Jonas, was present too, but though he was king, his wife was the queen of snobbery, and vicious beyond compare.  Not even a week ago she had told Lucy that before she picked out a wedding gown that she should seriously consider a color other than white.

“In this day and age, young women just assume they should wear white because they’ve seen pictures of princesses in white gliding down the aisle.  But what they miss is the promise such a color implies.” She’d shot Lucy with a cold, hard stare.  “So if you are not pristine in that way, my dear, I would think about a pink gown or maybe champagne... yellow would go well with your tart skin tone.”

Lucy had almost lunged to grab hold of the passive aggressive shrew’s neck and squeeze.  But she’d held back; Lucy Hart, bastion of restraint.

But by god, if that diamond studded Russian wolf hound said one mean word to, or sneered at, or gave her mother or grandmother one dirty look... she’d raise every corpse in that cemetery out back again and have them take a few bites out of the ice queen’s hide!

That thought almost made her smile.  But truthfully, Vivian Enoch was her beloved’s mother, and she would have to find some way to make peace with her.  But Vivian still needed to be nice to her family... well, she could insult Seth if she liked, but beyond that, she was toast.

When she pulled up into her grandmother’s driveway she gave a silent sigh of relief.  No cars yet.  That meant they had gotten there first.  Leave it to Lucy’s soon-to-be in-laws to be fashionable late, even to a dinner in Four Corners.

Of course, maybe they’d gotten lost?  If Lucy didn’t live there, she’d have never known it existed either. 

She jumped out of her shiny red Mustang convertible and ran back to Gabriel’s Jaguar.  He had barely gotten to his feet when she grabbed him by the wrist and started pulling him toward the house.  She wanted him inside and settled before either of his parents showed up.

It was one thing for them to be late, but if Vivian knew that Lucy had been late as well, she’d find some snide quip to make. 

Just then a mud splattered Jeep zoomed onto Lucy’s street, the twin carburetors of its exhaust sounding more like the filthy beast of an automobile was literally chewing up the road beneath it.

The Jeep swerved out and then fishtailed before it rocketed into the driveway... stopping only a few precious inches from Lucy’s back bumper.

She shot the driver an icy stare.  Micah didn’t even flinch.  He was used to her bad temper, and until earlier that day, he’d been immune to her kitten-like strength too.  The memory of kicking him across the gymnasium at Enoch Industries made her shiver.  She hated that she’d actually caused him harm—though as a werewolf he’d bounced back without a scratch minutes later.  What really bothered her was that she remembered vividly how much she’d enjoyed it at the time.  She’d hungered for it, and wanted to do it again.

Hell, she wanted to do it again right now…

She shook that thought out of her head.  “You should really look into a pair of glasses, Micah,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “You almost hit my car.”

Micah swung his huge, muscular body out of the open cab of the Jeep.  He wore jeans and a threadbare t-shirt with the peeling logo of a punk rock band. Oh, and
huge
work boots.  At least the ensemble was clean... unlike his vehicle. 

He paused to look at the miniscule space between his mud-mobile and her shiny red masterpiece.  “There’s plenty of room.”

“For what?” Lucy groused, “The contents of your brain-pan?”

Micah smiled at that and waved it away.  “Please, I was trained at defensive driving when I was twelve.”

Lucy let sarcasm drip from her tongue.  “Where… the Crash-Test Dummy School?”

Micah took a breath to say something else, but then he stopped, scented the air and unceremoniously sprinted for the front door to Gram’s house.  Lucy’s eyes felt like they’d bugged out of her skull.  Gabriel shot her an alarmed glance and raced after his brother.  They were both gone by the time her pitiful human reflexes let her take the first step.  She ran too, but running in heels was not the same thing as sprinting in
Nikes
. 

She came through the door and heard Micah make a groaning sound.  She followed the sound back through the house to the kitchen.  She’d expected to find her grandmother’s kitchen besieged by demons or at least some hungry thugs, but all she found were two werewolves drooling over her grandmother’s cooking.

Gram had made not one, but four beef roasts and a braised lamb.  She knew werewolves had voracious appetites, she explained.  There was also garlic whipped mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, fresh-baked bread, gravy, and a raspberry cake with white chocolate icing. 

It was a culinary wet dream, and Gabriel and Micah were entranced.

Micah reached out a hand to swipe some icing from the cake.

“Not so fast, wolf!”  Gram scolded as she appeared out of seemingly nowhere and clamped a glass lid over the cake.  “No sampling the vittles until dinner.”

Lucy rolled her eyes.  What was Gram up to?  She never spoke in colloquialisms. Was she going to make herself out as some sort of backwoods madwoman?  

Micah dropped his head in shame and murmured, “Yes ma’am.”

Gram smiled and put her hands on her hips, obviously pleased with Micah’s obedience.  He looked up and gave her a roguish smile, and Gram turned a little pale for a heartbeat.  But then she shook off the short-lived stunned expression and shooed them all from the kitchen.

The instant they traipsed through the kitchen door both brothers froze.  If they’d been in their wolf forms they would’ve had their ears perked up, listening. 

Micah gave a hoot and jogged to the front door.  Gabriel sighed uneasily and took Lucy’s hand, giving it a squeeze.  “They’re here.”

~*~

The King and Queen of the werewolf pack drove a jet black Mercedes, an immaculately maintained older model.  The car came to a stop in front of Gram’s house, and two brawny men in suits got out of the front seats first.  Their eyes scanned the block for danger, and then they opened the back driver’s side door.  One of the suits leaned into the car and held out his hand.  Vivian Enoch emerged from the car, gave the house a cursory glance, and then locked her sights on Lucy. 

There was no doubt about it, the old girl hated Lucy’s guts, and wasn’t afraid to show it.

“This is going to get ugly,” Micah murmured mirthlessly behind her. 

Gabriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.  His warmth felt good.

“It will be alright,” Gabriel whispered in her ear.  “I promise.”

“So now you have magic powers?”  It would take some major sorcery to keep his mother from being the woefully strident bitch Lucy knew she could be.

“No, she promised me.”

Micah snickered and shook his head.  “She’s playing you bro.  Don’t you get it?”

Gabriel turned and looked his brother in the eye.  The look was bone weary and serious as a heart attack.  “She’s never broken a promise to me.”

Micah blinked.  There was something remorseful in his eyes, something that made Lucy want to reach out and take his hand.  She didn’t like seeing hurt in her future brother-in-law’s eyes.  Lucy needn’t try a guess to see that clearly Vivian had broken a promise to Micah—
a big one.

Lucy turned her attention back to the black Mercedes.  Jonas Enoch had already exited the vehicle and Vivian was gently brushing non-existent lint from his shoulder.  Lucy trained her sights on Vivian like a hawk.  It was bad enough she’d been rude and bitchy to Lucy.  But to know that she’d hurt her own son so deeply that it radiated from him like smoke from a house fire, and that with one word here tonight she could do the same to Gabriel...

I’ll fucking kill the bitch...

One word.  That’s all it would take now.  If she so much as commented “How quaint” her Gram’s house was, or that the food wasn’t fancy enough, Lucy was going to strangle her with her bare hands. 

“Lucy?”  Gabriel gave her a little shake.  He’d been saying her name a few times as his parents walked up the walkway toward the house.  Vivian was dressed demurely, in a casual-for-her cream colored suit and skirt, the jacket open over a lovely burgundy silk blouse. 

Lucy turned and gave Gabriel a weak smile.  Gabriel kissed her gently on the lips.

“She won’t break a promise to me.  You’ll see.”

Micah turned and silently moved into the house.  Obviously, Gabriel’s brother didn’t have the same faith in his mother’s promises.

Gram was drying her hands on a dishtowel embroidered with chickens when Vivian and Jonas walked through her front door.  Gabriel took his mother’s jacket for her and she proceeded toward Gram with a simply flawless smile stretched across her face. 

“I’m so happy to meet you.  I’m Gabriel’s mother, Vivian Enoch.”  She took Gram’s hand and shook it, her smile never faltering.  She must’ve studied acting when she attended Sarah Lawrence... or wherever it was she went to college or finishing school.

“Lillian Haveroux,” Gram said warmly.  “It’s good to meet you too.  Welcome to my home.”

Just then Lucy’s mother walked in from the kitchen.  She’d just made it home from working her cocktail waitress job.  She’d changed clothes before leaving work.  Lila wore a tasteful powder blue sweater over a black matte skirt that came down to her knees.  Lucy took a deep breath and sighed.  At least there wasn’t anything in her mother’s appearance that would give Vivian any ammunition.

“And this is my daughter and Lucy’s mother, Lila Hart.”  Gram beamed at her daughter.  As usual Lila was late, but when you worked double shifts at a casino forty-five minutes away, you were never on time for your own life.  Lila offered her hand to Vivian, her eyes bulging at the sight of the rock that graced her ring finger.