Refuge (56 page)

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Hope(less)

A riveting sweet romance by debut author
Melissa Haag

In a world filled with people, Gabby is uniquely
alone. The tiny sparks she sees in her mind represent the people
around her, but she doesn't know why she sees them. A chance
encounter leads her closer to answers she's struggled to find and
into a hidden society where fur is optional.

“Gabby, wait,” Sam called.

Hearing him stand and follow me caused my
stomach to dip. My steps slowed for a heartbeat. Stepping through
the door could compromise my wellbeing...but staying inside
wouldn’t get me answers. The door beckoned. I stepped through onto
a packed dirt path and looked around.

The light that spilled from the door
illuminated a small area. The trees that crowded the building left
only a small gap of about twenty feet between the treeline and the
roofline, which cast the area in an early dusk. In the cleared
space near the back door, twenty men waited quietly. I frowned,
puzzled. Something still felt off. I’d expected to see many more
given the rushed Introductions.

Closing my eyes, I breathed deep and focused.
Tiny sparks flashed around me in the darkness. Sam, I saw, stood to
my right. His spark glowed steadily, not blinking at all. The group
of twenty was different.

Some of the werewolves’ lights blinked like
strobes. Some faster, some slower. Some so slow, I at first thought
they might have left. As I studied them, it began to make sense. I
wasn’t seeing werewolves quickly running all over the place, rather
an arrhythmic indication of a werewolf’s location. I focused beyond
the twenty. Lights too numerous to count stood out in the darkness.
It would take hours to meet them all.

Had all the prior Introductions been a farce,
a game to keep me from running until Sam could arrange the real
thing? How strongly were the Elders determined to see me Mated?
Would they let me leave unMated? Had my thoughts of college been a
dream? I struggled with my growing frustration and panic. No. Not a
dream. I wouldn’t give up.

I opened my eyes already knowing that the
group of twenty had doubled. I studied their faces and noted more
bruising and blood. Some men dressed in jeans and shirts while
others wore clothes too filthy from fighting to identify. Seeing
the filth and blood, I understood why they wanted to rush the
Introductions. Too many werewolves had arrived for this; and the
Mating challenges the Elders feared, had begun.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Anger
churned in my stomach at Sam for not telling me. I felt tricked and
yet sad for the men waiting.

“Sam,” I said, turning my gaze on him. There
was nothing playful in my look. I wanted to tell him that I would
never forgive him for this but knew the werewolves listening would
take my words as a rejection. It would take away what little hope
they had facing these numbers. Instead, I let my look convey
everything I felt.

He lowered his gaze and broke eye contact,
something he never did first. Good. He knew.

I turned away and studied the growing crowd.
I’d lived among them enough to know not to show intimidation. They
respected strength. With their hearing, I didn’t need to raise my
voice. Even those still hidden within the trees would hear me.

“No more fighting. There’s no need to wait
and fight for your place in tonight’s Introduction. I will meet you
all. Start a line here, and I’ll walk it. If I am not right for
you, there is no need for you to remain after I’ve passed you. You
may leave and know that I am honored by your presence here
tonight.”

Men silently stepped from the trees and moved
to create a line as I’d asked. They continued to emerge from the
woods even as the line extended around the corner. Because of that,
new rows started behind the first line. The shuffling continued
until roughly five hundred gathered. So many men focused on me, all
at the same time, made my stomach churn. If they were human...I
suppressed a shudder at the thought.

Ignoring the vast number, I moved toward the
first man, nodded stoically, then turned to start the slow walk
down the line. The Elders kept pace with me. I didn’t bother
pausing to meet anyone’s eyes. Only my scent mattered.

As I’d asked, those without a strong interest
stepped out of the line and walked back into the woods. It allowed
those behind them to move forward and take their place. When I
reached the end, I turned around to walk it again. I paced the line
several times in silence so all would get their fair chance. As the
number remaining decreased, my mood lightened. Sam made note of
names as needed. Soon only a handful of men remained.

While my future loomed brighter, theirs
dimmed. I nodded solemnly to those remaining and watched them melt
back into the trees. I truly felt for them, but I’d experienced no
attraction to any of them—no pull that Sam and other Elders and
werewolves had assured me I would feel when—not if—I met the one. A
triumphant smile wanted to break free, but I contained it, not
wanting to offend anyone. Finally, my duty was complete. I breathed
deeply of freedom, ready to go back to my room.

Behind me, the Elders moved, reminding me of
their presence. My mood shifted. The anger and betrayal from their
lack of warning resurfaced. With a stiff back and tight mouth, I
made my way toward the door and the waiting Elders. I didn’t meet
any of their eyes.

Sam had hours during the drive to say
something but hadn’t, and now all of his secrecy had been for
nothing. I hadn’t found a mate. Did he realize the pointlessness of
his gesture? I seriously doubted telling me in advance would have
changed the outcome other than to make me nervous during the drive
up. That, however, would mean I shouldn’t be mad at him so I
quickly disregarded the thought. Honesty was honesty. He should
have told me.

Walking the dirt path, which I realized I’d
tread over several times in my socks, I saw a peculiar shadow on
the ground melding with the shadow of the still open door.

I looked up at the space behind the door and
saw the flash of eyes just before a man stepped into view. I froze.
My stomach dropped, and my heart did a strange little flip. Before
I could take my next breath, a shiver ran up my spine and
gooseflesh rose on my arms. My anger spiked, uncontrolled.

“You have got to be kidding,” I whispered to
myself without thinking. I’d been so close to escaping.

His filthy long, dark hair trailed in front
of his eyes and shadowed his face into obscurity. An old,
dull-green army jacket, just as filthy as his hair, hung from his
frame while his bare feet shone pale against the black sweats he
wore. I couldn’t tell his age, the color of his hair, or the color
of his eyes—because of the tangle of hair—but I could see the glint
of them as he moved away from the door.

He stalked toward me. I remained frozen and
tried to deny the significance of the encounter as my stomach
continued to do crazy little flips. Just before he reached me, he
turned away and walked around the corner of the building, heading
not into the woods as the rest had, but to the front of the
building.

I stared after him, momentarily confused.
He’d recognized me. Just as I had him. Why had he turned away? Did
it matter? Move! Escape before he changed his mind!

Finally, my feet obeyed, and I lurched toward
the door.

“Sam, I’ve more than fulfilled any obligation
I had to you or the pack. I’d like to leave tonight.” The Elders
stepped aside before I bowled them over.

I rushed past them, through the Introduction
room and into the interior hall. There I paused to pull off my
dirt-caked socks. Charlene would have me cleaning floors if I
walked through the halls in my filthy socks.

Maneuvering through the fortuitously quiet
and empty halls, I struggled to control my emotions. Over the
years, I’d learned control, knowing those around me would be able
to smell things like fear, anger, lust, or even sadness. But
tonight all that control evaporated. Anger and fear swamped me.
Anger at Sam for arranging the whole damn thing, and fear that the
Elders knew what had just happened.

I’d been so close to freedom. Sam had set me
up, stacking the odds against me with the sheer number of
werewolves in attendance. Why would it have to be the very last one
I saw that sent a bolt of lightning right into my stomach? Was it
too much to ask for just one break in my life?

GRIMNIRS: A RUNES NOVEL

Published: Jan 12th 2014

©Ednah Walters

~*~

SUMMARY: My name is Cora Jemison. Something
happened to me when lightning hit the swimming pool during a meet
and now I can see ghost. After a stint in the psych ward, I’m
convinced I know how to deal with them—basically, ignore them. Boy,
was I wrong? You see, someone else is in town and our paths are
about to collide.

~*~

This was a sucky day to be me, but then
again, ever since I started seeing ghosts, my life had gone down
the toilet. The guy I’d loved since elementary school but basically
treated me like his annoying younger sister forgot about me. I
forgave him for choosing my best friend because you didn’t
cherry-pick who you loved. But for the two of them to write me off
just because I was admitted in a psych ward? That was
unforgivable.

To add insult to injury, I got the freaking
ghosts. They weren’t just in hospitals and cemeteries. They were
attached to people, buildings, and objects. And lately, it seemed
like they were attached to me. Or attracted to me.

I picked up a pint of ricotta cheese, turned,
and smothered a screech. The woman ghost was so close I almost
walked through her. I took a step back. I’d walked through one of
them and put the experience under never-to-be-repeated. It had felt
like being dunked in a murky, icy pond. Totally gross.

Her mouth opened and closed.

“I can’t hear you, so go away,” I said
through clenched teeth.

She kept talking, gesturing wildly. I tried
to walk around her, but she blocked my path.

“Leave. Me. Alone,” I snarled then glanced
around to see if anyone had heard me. The few shoppers hadn’t
noticed my odd behavior yet. “Shoo.”

I turned to go the other away, but the angry
ghost-father was watching us. His eyes narrowed as though his
humans-who-can-see-ghosts radar just clicked on. He started toward
us.

I searched for the nearest metallic object.
Thank you, Dean and Sam Winchester. The fictitious brothers used
iron to disperse ghosts in the hit TV series Supernatural. The crap
actually worked. I’d used a fire poker on one that had wandered
into my room a few days ago, and it caused her to disappear.

I grabbed what looked like a cheese grater
from the shelf and hefted it. It was heavy, which meant it had more
iron than whatever other crap they’d used to make it. I waved the
cheese grater around like a ninja with a dagger and hoped no one
saw me and called Mom.

I shuddered. No more psych ward. No more
meds. As much as I’d hated being committed, the meds had been
worse. They’d made me act loopy.

The female ghost watched me warily. At least
she’d stopped opening her mouth like a fish. Yeah, I bet she knew
what iron did to her kind. The angry dude was closer now, and he
wasn’t alone. Two other ghosts had joined him, all eager to
chat.

Damn it! I hated when they ganged up on me. A
wave of iciness drifted from them, and I shivered. Yeah, come on.
Come on, you bodiless, icy bastards, and taste the iron.

“Hey,” a commanding voice cut through the
air. “You guys are with me, not her.”

Different expressions crossed the ghosts’
faces—annoyance, terror, defiance. The angry Italian’s eyes darted
left then right.

“Don’t even think about it, Morello,” the
voice snapped. “If you make me hunt you down again, I will make the
rest of your existence so miserable you will beg for a second
death. Capisci?”

I turned to look at the speaker, but the only
person there was the old woman, who looked petrified. I didn’t
blame her. That voice was terrifying and irritating. I hated bossy
people.

“Sally, you’ve had your twenty-four hours.
Time to go,” the voice continued, and then he stepped from behind a
rack.

Whoa. Leather, leather, and even more
leather, way too much to be fashionable. Unless it had become the
“in thing” while I was gone. His voice said he didn’t bend or bow
to anyone or anything, so I doubted he cared about fashion
trends.

The hooded, ankle-length black leather duster
was tailored to fit his tall body and broad shoulders. It hugged
his upper torso before flowing to the floor. Ringed and tattooed
fingers peeked through fingerless gloves, but as I watched, the
tats disappeared as though absorbed into his skin. Weird. Leather
pants and boots finished his attire.

My eyes moved up. Even his shirt was made of
leather. I reached his face and blinked. Or maybe I should say I
reached where his face should have been. There was nothing but
darkness under the hood, yet the store was well lit. I peered at
him but still saw nothing. A scarf of some kind covered his neck.
Surely, it was too early to be dressed like an Eskimo. Besides,
this was Kayville, Oregon. We didn’t get snow until late
winter.

Then weird things started to happen.
Something glowed under his hood. I expected to see a skull head or
a big gaping hole. Instead, I noticed skin. The glowing things
didn’t last long enough for me to see his entire face.

Were they tattoos? It was hard to tell. They
kept appearing and disappearing as he barked orders at the ghosts.
I caught a glimpse of sensual lips and a strong jaw line. I was
close to giving up when more tats lit up his entire face.