Dirty Blood (9 page)

We’d almost made it to the car when I felt it. My
skin prickled and tingled in warning, giving me the feeling of
something crawling on me. I shivered and spun around, fully
expecting to see a wolf lurking somewhere between the parked cars,
but when I turned, there was nothing there. I kept searching,
spinning a full circle, as my eyes looked for any movement, furry
or otherwise. Nothing.

I thought of my broken plunger handles, still under
the bathroom sink where I’d stashed them last night. I should
probably carry them around with me, just in case.

“Tara? Are you okay?” Angela asked.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her and Sam
watching me with confused expressions, but I ignored them and
continued to scan the lot. “Yeah, I’m fine… just thought I saw
something,” I finally said, giving up and turning back to face
them.

“Like what?” Angela pressed. The look on her face
told me I was coming off crazy.

“A bird, I guess,” I said, lamely. I shrugged and
climbed into the backseat.

“Maybe the breakup is bothering you more than you
thought,” said Sam, as she pulled the car onto the road.

I didn’t answer. I was focused on the creepy-crawlies
I was still feeling. Thankfully, the feeling faded as we turned
into traffic and I sighed in relief.

“Or maybe you aren’t as recovered as you thought,
from whatever bug you had,” suggested Angela.

“I’m just distracted, guys. I’ve got a lot on my
mind.”

“See, I told you it’s the breakup,” said Sam.

“It’s not the breakup,” I argued.

“You don’t have anything else going on, though.
Unless… there’s someone else.” Sam stole a glance at me in the
rearview. When I didn’t answer, her eyes went wide. “Ohmygosh,
there is someone else. Who is he? Does he go to our school? Do we
know him?”

Angela turned and eyed me. “Is Sam right? Come on,
Tara, you can tell us.”

I hesitated, debating how to answer. If I didn’t tell
them, they’d never let it go and eventually get suspicious as to
why I wasn’t talking. On the other hand, if I did tell them,
choosing my words carefully, I wouldn’t feel so secretive. And it
would feel good to have my girls to talk to about it. At least the
parts I could talk about. “Okay, yes, Sam is right. I met someone.
Sort of. It’s kind of complicated, though.”

Sam hopped around in the driver’s seat, somehow
remembering to keep her hands on the wheel. “I knew it. This is so
exciting. Tell us everything.”

“Okay. His name is Wes. We met two nights ago, at the
pool hall. It was after George left. We talked and… hung out and
then he gave me a ride home.”

Angela twisted in her seat so she could look at me.
“Are you going to see him again?”

“Well... he came over yesterday.”

And?” Sam demanded. “What happened? Did you
guys-?”

I didn’t have to see her to know she was wiggling her
eyebrows; her code for sex. “No, Sam we did not. We didn’t even
kiss. I was sick, remember?”

“So he took care of you?” Angela asked softly. I
could hear the romantic wheels turning inside her head.

“I guess. We talked and just hung out. But, I don’t
know if I’m going to see him again.”

“Why not?” Angela asked.

“Because he didn’t say anything about it. Everything
he says is so… cryptic.” I sighed. “He did give me his number
though.” I didn’t add that I’d stared at the card so many times I’d
basically memorized it.

“Call him!” both girls shouted together.

I smiled. Despite the vague details I’d given, it
felt really good to have someone to talk to. “Maybe. It feels weird
being the one to call.”

Sam shook her head. “Guys like a girl who takes the
initiative. You should call him. Tonight.”

Angela twisted in her chair again. “For once, I agree
with Sam. You should take the first step and call him. He wouldn’t
have given you his number if he didn’t want you to.”

I didn’t answer. The problem was he’d made it sound
like I should only call if I needed him. Like, if I came across
another angry Werewolf or something. But I couldn’t exactly divulge
that detail.

Sam pulled the car into my driveway and turned. “Call
him. We’ll be waiting to hear what happens so call us tomorrow. No
excuses.”

I smiled again. “Okay,” I agreed, on a deep breath.
“Thanks guys. See you tomorrow.”

Inside, I tried to slip by my mom with minimal
questions. She’d been looking at me kind of weird since yesterday
morning. I think she suspected something was up when I’d acted so
confused over where I’d been the night I’d… fought Liliana. (I
still didn’t want to say killed, even to myself.) So, I’d been
trying to steer clear until I was convinced I could play it off
effectively. Or until she forgot about it.

“Mom, I’m home,” I called out, dumping my jacket in
the front closet.

“In here.” Her voice floated out from the back of the
house.

I found her in the sunroom, bent over a flat of herbs
she was planting. She looked up and smiled when I came in and I
noticed a streak of dirt smudged across her forehead. Her hands
were black with soil and there were seed packets spread out on the
table beside her.

“Did you have fun?” she asked.

“Yeah, the girls got dresses for the dance next week
and I got a new sweatshirt.”

She frowned. “You didn’t get a dress, too?”

“I don’t think I’m going.” I took a deep breath.
“George and I broke up.”

She eyed me, curiously. “Is that good or bad?”

I laughed at that. “Is this an ‘if you hate him, I’ll
hate him’ scenario?”

She shrugged. “Not exactly, but I don’t want to tell
you how sorry I am unless you’re sorry.”

I leaned against the doorpost and then straightened
again when I realized who it reminded me of. “No, I’m not sorry. I
feel okay about it. Like maybe we’re better off as friends.”

She nodded. “Good. I agree.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You do?”

“Yes. I see how you look when you talk about it or
when he’s around. Or how you don’t look, I should say.”

“And how do I look?”

She tapped a dirty finger against her chin. “Friendly
affection is how I’d describe it, I think.”

“Oh,” I said, staring at the flat of potting soil and
mulling that one over.

“I’m glad you told me about George,” she said,
pulling me back to the conversation. “You know you can talk to me
about anything, right?”

“I know. Thanks, mom.” I started to turn away but her
voice stopped me.

“I mean it, Tara. Anything. You can always come to
me.” Her tone was more forceful than it had been a moment ago.

I searched her face, trying to unlock any hidden
meaning behind the words. Did she know something about what was
going on, after all? Was this my chance to tell her?

Then she blinked and her gaze became unassuming.
“Anyway, you should get some sleep. You’re probably still
recovering from that bug you had yesterday.”

“Yeah, I guess I am pretty tired.” I picked up my bag
and started edging towards the door, still confused.

“You do feel better right?” she asked, eyeing me with
scrutiny.

“Much,” I assured her.

“Hmm. I expected it to last longer with how out of it
you were yesterday morning.”

I shrugged. “Sam was home with something too and she
felt better today, so it must’ve been a twenty four hour
thing.”

“Apparently,” she agreed, though she still looked a
little unconvinced.

“Well, good night,” I called, turning for the door
before she could say more.

“Good night.”

In my room, I sat on my bed with Wes’ card in one
hand and my cell phone in the other. My heart was already pounding
in my ears. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my pulse. This
was ridiculous. Why was I so nervous? He was just a guy. And I was
a badass Werewolf slayer. This should be a piece of cake. I
repeated that to myself over and over until I was at least
breathing normally again. Then, before I could change my mind- or
hyperventilate- I punched in the number and held the phone to my
ear.

He answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

My breath caught in my chest and I had to struggle to
make my voice sound calm and casual. “Hey, Wes. It’s Tara.”

On the other end, there was a long pause. Then, “Is
everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just-” well crap, now
what did I say? He seemed all business, driving home my original
assumption that he’d only given me this number in case of
emergency. But I was in it now and there was no turning back. “I
was just calling to say hi, I guess. And thanks again for all your
help.” Okay, I chickened out.

“No problem. Have you thought any more about
training?”

“Um, I’m still thinking about it.”

Another pause. “Okay, well, I’m kind of in the middle
of something so I need to hang up.”

I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“Right, sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Bye.” I disconnected and fell back on the bed,
feeling like an idiot. I laid there and stared up at the ceiling,
replaying the conversation a million times until I was convinced I
was more than an idiot. I was inept. I’d never had a problem
talking to guys before, but apparently that was just warm-ups. This
was the big leagues now, and apparently I sucked. I wished briefly
I could be more like Sam, with her confident and self-assured
attitude.

Under normal circumstances I probably wouldn’t have
felt so unsure of myself, but my life was hardly normal
circumstances, anymore. Everything was changing so fast; it made me
dizzy. It felt like someone had come along and pulled my legs out
from under me. I didn’t even know if being a Werewolf Hunter was
something I wanted. Then again, it’s not like I had a choice.

I rolled over and my eyes landed on a flash of red.
My tattered silk shirt was still on the floor below me. I grabbed
it and balled it up; swooshing it into the trash can nearby. Then I
closed my eyes and waited for sleep.

~ 9 ~

“I’ll probably be out late, tonight,” my mom said.
“There’s chicken in the fridge. All you have to do is microwave
it.”

I sat at the table with a bowl of cereal, watching
her gather her purse and keys. “Why do you have to stay late? It’s
Sunday.”

“Inventory and ordering night, remember? I told you
about it a couple of days ago.”

“Oh, right, I forgot,” I said.

Inventory night happened once every three months, for
my uber-organized mother. She and Julie – her one employee – would
stay late and go through everything in the stock room to make sure
it matched up to her many spreadsheets. I couldn’t think of a
single thing more boring but it made my mom happy to check things
off lists.

My mom eyed me. “You okay? You seem distracted. Are
you still feeling sick?”

I shifted under her stare. “I’m fine. I just
forgot.”

She didn’t look convinced. “You didn’t even go out
yesterday, just sat in your room all day. Maybe I should make a
doctor’s appointment for you.”

“Really, Mom, I’m fine. I just needed some more rest.
You know being sick always wears a person out.”

I
had
spent all of Saturday in my room, just
not for the reasons she thought. After the weird feeling I’d gotten
in the mall parking lot, I’d decided it was definitely time to do
something. And after my botched phone call with Wes, I’d decided
maybe I’d be better off doing it on my own, so I’d spent most of
Saturday reading through the book Fee had given me – the
Draven.

Most of it was reminiscent of my high school English
book, in that it was completely boring and irrelevant. But the
section on basic fighting techniques had been helpful. I’d even
practiced some of the stances to get a feel for them. And there was
a section on weapons, too, that made me feel slightly better about
my own homemade ones. Apparently, the weapon of choice for most
Hunters was a wooden stake. The whole silver bullet thing was a
myth and besides, guns couldn’t get through most security and
really tended to draw attention. So, I still had my plunger handles
in my backpack because despite being rudimentary they were still
better than nothing.

The Draven had taught me something else, too. The
more I read, the more I realized that Hunters were serious about
the whole ‘born and bred to kill’ thing. It made me understand what
Wes had said about picking a side, because if I was going to be
true to my nature, it would mean killing first, and asking
questions later. No wonder he needed to know where I stood. Not
that I could ever raise a hand to him, or stake for that matter. I
still got nauseous whenever I thought about what I’d done to
Liliana.

But the thing that kept bugging me the most was that
the book kept coming back to the fact that being a Hunter was a
bloodline thing. You got it from your parents – or parent, but
usually both, since marrying outside your race is apparently
frowned upon – and since my mother still showed no sign of carrying
around some knowledge of a secret identity, I still hadn’t decided
what to do about that.

I realized my mom was still eyeing me, critically. I
kept my face carefully blank and returned her gaze as innocently as
I could. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, well I’ll see you later. Call
me if you need me.”

“I will. Love you.” I forced a smile and kissed her
cheek as she left.

I finished my cereal and set the bowl on the counter
before heading back to my room. There’d be plenty of time to wash
the dishes later. It’s not like I had any plans. Sam and Angela had
three-way called me yesterday, demanding to know how the phone call
to Wes had gone. I’d filled them in and noticed how they both went
conspicuously silent after. It hadn’t cheered me. Then they’d both
let loose with the usual “he probably really was busy” and “his
loss” kind of comments. That hadn’t helped either. So, I’d told
them I was helping my mom at the store and would see them Monday. I
just couldn’t take any more sympathy right now. I was feeling sorry
for myself just fine.