Predator Girl (A Paranormal Romance) (4 page)

I strutted across the dance floor through the pink and green lights. His eyes trailed after me—I could feel it.
Bizarre
, I thought, not daring to glance back. What was up with that kid? Never have I met someone that I couldn’t pinpoint. Let’s face it—you know when you meet a human versus an abnormal. The looks, the aura, it’s all there; except with him.

He seemed to be in the middle, not human but not creature.

The late-summer air swirled around me as I stepped outside. It was soothing, at least ten degrees cooler than it’d been in the club. I took a breath of fresh air while standing in the parking lot. So much better. I hated crowded, human places.

I began to relax when a splash of red caught my eye. I ducked into the shadows, near the side of the building.

Jared sauntered out of the club, glancing around the lot. Something told me he wasn’t trying to find his car. He tilted his head, sniffing the air. Could he be? No, he couldn’t
smell
me, right? As I watched, he left the main crowd up front, heading toward the left side.

Headed toward me.

That’s it
. Okay, I’d tried to be civil, but this kid was clearly trouble. The Rooks had enough problems to deal with as it was. I dropped into a crouch, knuckles popping against the pavement. My heart doubled its speed.
Just a little closer
. That’s all he had to do, come a little closer into the shadows. Just far enough so no one could see him. Two seconds—that’s all it would take me to pounce, shift, and snap his neck. He wouldn’t even have time to scream.

He kept coming, around thirty feet away. Twenty feet. Fifteen. I rocked on my haunches.
Come on
. His sneakers had barely touched the shadows when he stopped. I hesitated. Why didn’t I leap? Sure, he was still in full sight, but I was fast. No one would see him disappear—guaranteed. It was a long leap, but I’d jumped farther.

Suddenly he spun around, hustling back toward the club’s entrance. I dropped forward onto my knees. Huh. Apparently he didn’t like the dark. Or maybe it was the woods.

Or maybe he’d seen me and sensed that I was about to kill him.

It wasn’t likely. His head hadn’t even moved in my direction. I got to my feet, brushing the dirt off my legs.
Why do you care, anyway
? He went the other direction, away from me. Who cared what had scared him?

As I watched from around the corner, it suddenly dawned on me. Something was familiar about him. Was this the same kid who’d been here last night? The one who’d looked straight at me as I headed back to the den?

“Hmm,” I purred in thought.
I bet it is
.

Chapter Five—Jared

I
t was a stupid idea from the start.

I was just inches from the woods, about to follow her trail, only to realize her trail didn’t lead into the forest. That one was an old scent path, from maybe an hour ago. The newer one took an abrupt turn to the left.

She was in the building’s shadows.

I could hear her heart pounding, her knuckles cracking, but that was it. She wasn’t moving. I didn’t dare turn my head, but a black lump on the ground caught my peripheral vision. It was her for sure, and it looked like she was crouching.

Oh, crap!

I stumbled backward. She was going to jump me!
Now you did it
. I could hear coach’s words in my head, scolding me for another dumb choice.
No weapons, no way to protect yourself
.
What were you thinking, Ferlyn
? I hurried back toward the club entrance, the fear kicking in. Was she following? I glanced back. No. Not yet.

On the other side of the parking lot, standing near the road, I called Peter. Of course, the idiot didn’t answer his phone. I waited a few minutes. He never called back. I tried the twins’ phones then Harney’s and even Eli’s. Nothing.

“Damn you bunch of horn dogs,” I muttered, jamming the phone back into my pocket. I needed to go back and find them, but with that Mya chick hanging near the woods, I didn’t dare.

After a solid thirty minutes, my phone vibrated. I flipped it open, a text message from Peter popping up. Basically he said I’d interrupted him and I better have a good reason for calling.

I texted him back.

I met that untagged Otherworlder from last nite. She’s here at Whirlwind. Zip ur fly and come get me. Now.

“Let me get this straight.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed as he pulled away from the club. “You’re sure it’s her? The girl from last night?”

“Yes, sure. It’s the same girl. She had the same scent, the same hair, skin, and eyes. She said her name was Mya.”

“Oh, you got her name. Why not ask for a phone number while you’re at it? Jeez, talk about useless info,” he scoffed. “That’s all you got?”

“Shut up. And no, that’s not all I got,” I retorted. I knew he hated being called away from a perfect evening but seriously, was this not more important? An untagged, predatory Otherworlder was on the loose, for God’s sake.

“Listen, when I got there she was inside talking to someone. I’m almost positive it was another Otherworlder. He had two grey wolves disguised as Great Danes. When the light hit them just right you could see through the illusion—they kept switching forms as I watched.”

Peter hummed. A moment later he began to show more interest, saying, “Did he smell like an Otherworlder? If he knows about illusions and all that . . .”

“I couldn’t smell him from where I was. I tried to stay back. All I know is she had some kind of relation to him, and their conversation looked intense.”

More than intense, actually. Mya looked really pissed when that guy walked away from her. I sighed, leaning back in my seat.

“She smelled like dog. Dog and dirt and woodland. We don’t have some kind of canine fey around here, do we?”

“Like dog?” Peter wrinkled his forehead, stumped. “I’ve never heard of canine faeries. There are fox maidens. And coyote shape-shifters. Oh! Dude, maybe you saw a skinwalker!”

I considered this. “You know, that’s a thought. It would explain why I can’t figure her out.” Yeah, it made sense.

Creatures like skinwalkers or shape-shifters are hard to peg because of their changing forms. They were the Otherworlders closest to humans, and when they changed from animal to person, all the magic and paranormal genes in their body went neutral. In Theories class, our teacher said this was probably a defense mechanism, a survival technique developed over thousands of years to hide from predators like us Finders. If they looked like humans, walked and talked and smelled like them, we would have a hell of a time seeking them out.

“I’m guessing you didn’t tag her?” Peter’s words brought me back to reality.

I threw him a look. “How was I supposed to tag her? My stun gun and tracking bracelets are on my dresser at home. I planned on shagging nymphs tonight, not chasing down and nearly getting killed by a skinwalker.”

“Oh. True.” He snorted then got serious again. “You know, you can never go back to Siren Lake now, bro. If you do, Nilydra will drown you after she’s rocked your socks off.”

“Oh, hell. That’s right.” I’d forgotten that part. You don’t ever lie to or walk out on a faerie. Disrespect in their culture is punishable by death. I’d lied to Nilydra, telling her I’d be right back. The next time I showed up at the lake, she’d remember me standing her up. I might get some, but I’d be bones afterward. She would devour me faster than I could devour a hot dog.

It was a long, dark drive home. Peter and I were silent. While he was no doubt thinking about slipping back to Siren Lake tomorrow, I made mental notes to check the Internet and school library. I needed find out as much about skinwalkers as possible.

Then, once I knew what I was up against, I’d go hunting.

Chapter Six—Ilume

T
he journey home was uneasy. Between facing Thagen and being followed by that weird kid from the club, I was exhausted as I headed back to the den. I didn’t even want to run, which was strange. The woods brought out the animal in me—I usually ran everywhere.

A fluttering sound called my attention. I stopped, spinning around. An owl perched in the branches overhead. She ruffled her pale feathers, settling into a nest. Her beady eyes blinked down at me, nervous. Poor thing. Animals are smarter than people give them credit for; they know my kind, and they don’t favor us.

I moved along. The night’s events had made me edgy.
Another thing I never am
. But could I really be blamed? That kid had succeeded in freaking me out. He was an anomaly, a puzzle with pieces that didn’t fit.

I should’ve killed him
.

Goose bumps popped out of my skin. It was one of those decisions that you pray doesn’t come back to haunt you. This Jared guy knew I was abnormal, that I wasn’t human. That was bad. I imagined Rex in my situation, knowing he wouldn’t have thought twice about it—he’d have jumped the punk the second he left the crowd.

Let’s forget it
, I decided, coming up on an old willow tree. At the base of the trunk, a metal plate was hidden under fallen leaves.
If you see him again, you silence him
. Kneeling, I pushed the plate aside, revealing a set of log stairs.

Yes. If I saw him again, I would kill him.

Safely down the steps, I pulled the plate back over the opening. The stairs spiraled downward into a hollowed-out room below the willow. It had just enough space for some bookshelves, a dresser, and a pile of furs that made up the bed. The candles still burned in their bowls, down to the ends of their wicks.

I pulled my dress off, climbing into the furs. Gram’s crocheted pillows still smelled of lavender after all these years. When I was little, she lit incense on the full moon. “To warn bad omens away,” she’d say, and smirk when I asked why.

I curled up in bed, sniffing the pillows.
I miss you, Gram
. This had been her home once, before she moved into Canada with the pack. She was long gone now, a soul among the stars, yet she always seemed close when I was here. It was the only comfort I could find in Loralin.

My eyes closed.
I’ll be home soon
. I had failed my mission, but at least it was over now. I’d done what Rex had said to do. Tomorrow, I’d briefly visit town to grab some breakfast.

Then, I would start the run home.

Chapter Seven—Jared

I
t was one of those mornings where you just want to jam a pie in someone’s face.

I ground my teeth, hunched over a library computer. “Come
on
,” I growled, pulling on my face. The stupid thing was so
slow
. I’d been there half an hour and only seen four websites. Hadn’t the school board heard of Comcast? “Come on, come on, come on!” My pointer finger jabbed the mouse again. Nothing. I went on a clicking spree, hoping that if I tapped it enough, this website on skinwalkers would finally open.

A white page came up. Words popped up in the left corner.

ERROR:
Sorry, this page no longer exists.

“GAH!” I snarled, throwing my head back. Nearby, a blonde girl jumped in her seat, then threw me a dirty look.

Steam practically shooting out of my nose, I closed the Internet and stood up, grabbing my bag off the floor.
Next time
I’m doing this crap at home
. I wished for my license. I could’ve surfed the Internet all morning from my room then drove myself to school before the bell.

I couldn’t focus during first period Communications. Ms. Gwendolyn was rambling on about the common fey languages in South America, and with every weird word my chin floated closer to my desk. Eventually my cheek pressed against the wood, and I saw visions of Mya. Her tan skin, her thick, dark hair, the way her eyebrows quirked over those grass-green eyes.

Something smacked the floor. My eyes shot open. I found myself staring at Leo. He smirked, motioning toward the corner of his mouth. Sitting up, I wiped a pool of drool off my desk as Gwendolyn picked up a fallen text book.

The rest of the day proceeded in a similar fashion, except for last class.

Instead of P.E., PIU had Hunters High students take what we called “Training,” the most important class of all. Like Homeroom, we were assigned to groups that never changed throughout our four years. We had the same coach and the same students every time, although occasionally the period changed. Training was like it sounded: long, hard, sweaty workouts—all of which were designed to teach us how to handle Otherworlders should words go wrong. Not all of them are friendly when they find we can see through the veil, through their disguises. We were taught to fight and perfect our abilities, to distinguish the smell of a gnome versus the smell of a dwarf, and to track creatures long after the footprints disappeared.

No matter what country you visited, Otherworlders complied with the laws and registered with PIU or they were held captive until they agreed to do so. We couldn’t have supernaturals running around the human world, even if they glamour up. It’s bad for both our kinds. Eventually, most captives see things our way.

We were on the basketball court that day. It was sprinkling outside, making me feel like I was stuck in a mist machine. As I looked up through the treetops, I wondered if it would rain later. Hopefully not. Rain would make tracking Mya’s scent difficult.

A whistle blew. “Line up for roll call!” Coach Fugleman ordered.

I squeezed in between a pair of twin girls, both with black hair and eyes that frequently looked my way. Diana and Zelda. Their parents had named them after princesses apparently; one princess a real person and the other, Peter told me, was a fictional videogame character. I couldn’t decide whether that was messed up or kind of cool.

Fugleman moved slowly down the line. I watched the bulky old man in his tracksuit, wondering if that’d be me someday, training kids how to stun a redcap or hogtie an attack unicorn. Mom was bugging me now that I was halfway done with school. “What career field do you want to go into, Jared?” she’d ask on the rare occasion we ate dinner together.

Finders make money, of course, but the pay is crap unless you have a degree from Hunters High and some kind of college-level training. Mom didn’t want me to stay in this field forever, but I felt like I wasn’t good at anything else. Sales were a no-go. A customer would ask, “What does this do?” and I’d snort and say, “Like I know.” A behind-the-desk job would kill me. I didn’t like mechanics much either.

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