Scarred (3 page)

“My mom is going to lose it.”

“I know. I'm worried about her. I was thinking of heading over there now. Any objections?” I asked. “Cooper is upstairs still, I think. I'll make sure he comes down to stay with you while I’m gone.”

“Do you think they'll ever catch him?” she asked me with the innocence of a child completely ignorant of the kinds of evil that walked the earth. But Peyta
did
know evil―she just didn't know she was related to it.

“I’m not sure, P,” I replied with a tight smile. “I hope so.”

She mirrored my strained expression before returning to the back without another word—no sarcastic retort or belligerent teenage rant. Peyta made me most nervous when she was quiet. She didn't know why the Rev had gone after her mom, and she certainly didn't know that he was her father. We were all working doggedly to keep it that way at Ronnie's request—or demand, depending on how you chose to take it. After seeing what the Rev was capable of, Peyta would have needed therapy for years if she knew she shared DNA with that monster. But she was incredibly smart, and I worried that eventually she'd fall upon the right questions, inevitably leading to the answers that would taint yet another part of her already stained youth. It didn't seem fair.

Cooper agreed to come down and chaperone Peyta at the store while I went out to see Ronnie. Not surprisingly, she didn't protest. Peyta loved Cooper like an older brother. An older brother she could innocently flirt with. I still hadn't figured out the best way to describe them, but her eyes lit up whenever he entered the room. If she was ever in a funk, he was the man to call. He loved her like family too; he would have done anything for her. She brought out a sweetness in him that I never saw with anyone else. It always made me wonder how he was with his siblings, and if he had any younger sisters that Peyta reminded him of. I could never muster up the courage to ask.

Cooper didn't like to talk about his family.

Knowing that everything at the shop was squared away, I grabbed my purse and made my way out to the car. My midnight blue Audi TT 2.0 coupe awaited, parked in her usual city-issued parking spot, courtesy of the newest Portsmouth PD recruit that Alan had sent to his house to retrieve it for me. I'd gotten her only a couple of months earlier after totaling her predecessor in Boston during one of my Rev-induced visions. I'd gone shopping with both Cooper and Sean on separate occasions, trying out different vehicles, but I kept coming back to what I knew. They both insisted that I at least get a different color this time, so I did. I wasn't completely sold on it and was considering a custom job. The TT deserved it.

She chirped when I hit the unlock key and I patted her hello in response as I walked around to the driver's side door. I snuggled into the black leather seat that still retained that new car smell, fired her up, and made my way through downtown. Ronnie lived just outside of Portsmouth proper, only a short distance away. I didn't bother to call and see if she was home; I knew she would be.

She hadn't been able to go back to work after the attack. It took longer than anyone thought for her wounds to fully heal. Her vocal chords were damaged considerably at first, but did make a thorough recovery―Jay could attest to that. She was making him insane, barking orders at him while he lived in her home, posted there to keep both her and Peyta safe until the Rev was caught. At first, I thought he resented his job, but that was before I saw the way he looked at Peyta. She was clearly a perk to him. I wasn't sure that she had noticed how he looked at her while she did some menial task or talked about some angst-ridden teen movie she'd watched with Cooper. He was the consummate professional, never letting his feelings interfere with his job. I liked him a lot, and always had.

I pulled up the driveway to find Ronnie outside, emptying out her window boxes, preparing them for the fall mums that would be coming out soon. I knew being at home was making her crazy, but she was almost well enough to go back to her store,
Better With Age
, soon. I hoped she would make it that long without killing anyone.

“Hey Ronnie,” I called, getting out of the car.

“Ruby,” she replied cordially. Our relationship was still healing after Peyta had been endangered while in my and Cooper's care. The fact that I saved Ronnie from being taken out by the Rev seemed to have done something to mend it further, but she was still distant. Her husband had long ago been attacked by a rogue wolf and thus turned into the Rev. She had seen it happen. She knew all about werewolves―more than I did, which wasn't saying much―and had spent her life on the run, trying to keep Peyta sheltered and safe from her ex. The fact that my wolf, Scarlet, was the most lethal breed of wolves that ever walked the earth certainly didn't help matters. She was slowly learning that Scarlet didn't live up to the reputation she had, but Ronnie had survived by being shrewd and paranoid. Those traits weren't that easy to shake.

“I need to talk to you,” I said, walking up beside the pile of debris she was amassing on the front lawn. “You getting any new help around here?”

“No, not that I know of. Why?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“He's back,” I sighed. “Our reprieve appears to be over.”

“I knew it would only be a matter of time. Keith always could outwait his target. It's why he was so good at his job.”

Keith James, a.k.a. the Rev, was once a CIA operative with a high-level military background. He'd been working for them when he was attacked. His human traits, combined with those of the rogue wolf that infected him, made for a formidable opponent, whom the PC had been pursuing for almost two decades. He was relentless to the core, and wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted: Ronnie dead and his daughter Changed—an event that she wouldn't be likely to survive. I had recently learned from Cooper that there were few female werewolves due to difficulties making the Change and competition for mating. The females tended to get caught in the crossfire.

“I'm sorry. I wish I had better news than this.”

“Not your fault, Ruby. You're the reason I'm still standing here breathing,” she said, turning to me with a tight smile on her face.

In the light of day, you could see the tiny white scars along the side of her neck where the Rev had torn her throat out. If it hadn't been for Peyta's healing abilities, Ronnie would be dead.

“So Jay hasn't said anything about more of the boys coming over to help?”

“Nope. Hasn't said a word about it.”

“Maybe Sean hasn't talked to him yet. But that wouldn't make any sense,” I said, thinking aloud. I snapped my attention back to Ronnie, who stood staring at me. “Sorry. I'll call him and make sure he sends over reinforcements.”

“I don't know what another couple of werewolves are gonna do, Ruby. If he wants me, he'll find me and kill me. It's as simple as that. We got lucky last time,” she said matter-of-factly. “Their top priority should be keeping Peyta safe. You make sure that Sean passes that on to the pack.”

I nodded impassively. It was an effort to constantly remind myself that Ronnie knew nothing about the PC. The brothers were helping out under the guise of being werewolves. I couldn't risk Ronnie knowing about the PC and exposing more of the supernatural world to the Underground, her tight network of humans who were all too aware of the existence of werewolves. I also couldn't risk her knowing for fear of what Sean would do if he found out. The PC were extremely vague as to
how
they kept the line between the human and not-so-human worlds intact, and I didn't want to serve Ronnie up to find out. Keeping the charade alive made it easier for me to sleep at night.

“He knows,” I said, reinforcing the point, “but I'll bring it up anyway.”

“Did you drive out here just to tell me that my days are numbered or did you need something else?” she asked, returning her attention to the window boxes. Ronnie busied herself when things were unpleasant.

“Nothing else, really.”

“You could have just called.”

“Yep,” I agreed. “Maybe I wanted to check in on you. I don't love second hand information. I find it tends to be edited creatively.”

“Ah,” she said, chucking another dead plant into the pile. “And was it?”

“Peyta said you were pretty well back to normal. I'd say that sounds about right.”

“So I'll be good and healed just in time for Keith to take me down. If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd intended for that to happen—a true sadist.”

“The boys will do what they can, Ronnie,” I said soberly. “No promises. I wish I could.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning to face me. “I appreciate you not trying to blow smoke up my ass. I get enough of that these days. I'm starting to feel like a damn chimney.”

“Any time you want the awful truth,” I said, smiling widely, “you know where to find me.”

“That I do,” she replied, smirking. “Go keep an eye on that daughter of mine. Tell Cooper to do the same.”

“He's there now, being his wildly entertaining self, no doubt.”

“See you soon, Ruby,” she said with a wave before walking towards the backyard with an armful of dead plants.

“Later, Ronnie.”

I drove back to town with a sense of helplessness. She was right. The likelihood of us being able to keep both her and Peyta safe twenty-four hours a day was slim to none. We all talked around it, but we knew that if it came down to a choice between the two of them, Peyta needed to be the priority. It's what we all resigned ourselves to, even Ronnie.

I hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

3

The rest of the day was uneventful. I hung out with Peyta and Cooper at the store, and we accomplished absolutely nothing that we should have. Time flew quickly when the three of us were together. By the time I bothered to see what hour it was, I was supposed to be running out the door to go to dance rehearsal in Boston.

“I'm late!” I yelled, grabbing my purse and keys from under the counter. “Sorry guys, gotta bail.”

“You home later?” Cooper called after me as I hurried out the door.

“Yep. See ya!”

The adjacent door that led upstairs to the apartment was unlocked, and I purposely left it that way as it shut behind me, knowing that I was about to run back out in five minutes. I stormed up the stairs three at a time, tripping on the last one and barely recovering before crashing into the wall on the landing. I hoped I'd be more graceful in class.

Once inside the apartment, I ran down the hall to my room, stripping along the way to save time. My multitasking left a dubious trail of two shirts and a bra in my wake. If someone had entered the house and not known any better, they'd have thought I was in a hurry to do something else.

I dove into my closet for my bag of shoes, wraps, and random other things that were sometimes necessary. With that located, I rummaged through my drawers for something clean to wear. Judging by their lack of contents, such clothing did not exist. I sighed and looked around the room, scouting out what was on the floor that could be worn. The first shirt I grabbed looked acceptable, but after I gave it a sniff, I quickly threw it back down. That smell wouldn't win me points with anyone.

After a few tries, I found a tank top with a tiny mustard stain at the hem. I put it on over the black sports bra I'd found under the armchair in the corner and continued on for something to wear on my bottom half. I was still sporting skinny jeans that were definitely not rehearsal worthy.

Wiggling my way under the bed, I hoped to score a pair of black spandex shorts. My efforts were quickly derailed.

“Why do I seem to always get this view of you?” Sean purred from somewhere in my room. It startled me enough to make me whack my head on the bed frame.

“Ouch!” I yelled, trying to rub the growing bump in the confined space.

“Don't get me wrong,” he started, his voice moving closer, “I enjoy the view immensely, but seriously, Ruby...if I had a dollar for every time I caught you like this, I could buy another car.”

“You could buy another car regardless,” I argued, ass still hanging out from under the bed. “Maybe you should stop barging in on people when you're not invited and you wouldn't have this problem at all.”

“Maybe you should try cleaning your room so
you
wouldn't have this problem.”

He had a point.

“Fine,” I yelled from under the bed, grabbing what I thought were shorts. “You win. I'll clean.” I shimmied back out on my belly and came to stand in front of him. I held up the black fabric that—amazingly enough—turned out to be what I was looking for. Sean eyed the tiny strip of fabric with a dash of amusement.

“Are those for a six-year-old?”

“They stretch!” I said, slapping him playfully in the chest with the object in question. “Jerk.”

He tried to contain his laughter, but failed miserably, which sent me out of the room, eyes rolling, to the bathroom so I could change. I emerged seconds later wearing only the tiny shorts and tank top. All playfulness drained from his face.

“I take it back. They fit you
perfectly
,” he said, moving towards me down the hall. I evaded him with a stiff arm/ducking maneuver and ran back to my room to throw on some sweat pants. Quickly.

“Gotta go, Sean. I'm already late.”