Dirty Blood by Heather Hildenbrand
I looked over at Wes, focusing first on the whole memory-erasing thing, since that was actually easier than discussing the reality of Werewolves. He’d been watching me intently the whole time the images had played back inside my mind, and I could tell he was waiting for me to say something. “I can’t believe I killed something,” I whispered.
Wes’s eyes narrowed, and for the first time, he seemed suspicious. “You’ve really never done this before?”
“Should I have?”
“Considering how easily you took down Liliana, I’d say yes. But based on your reaction, I’m not so sure.”
“I’ve really never done this before,” I assured him. I shook my head. “Seriously, this can’t be real. I mean, I know it is, but… wow. Werewolves? Okay, so what about vampires? And goblins? And fairies? Is all of that real, too?”
Wes rolled his eyes. “Nope. It’s just us wolves.”
“Us?” I repeated, my eyebrows lifting. Did he mean …?
He shifted in the chair. I got the impression he hadn’t meant to say that last part. “Yes. I’m a Werewolf.”
I pulled the comforter up tighter and felt my eyes widen. I hadn’t meant to show fear but I couldn’t help it. There was a Werewolf sitting three feet away. And if my first impression was any indication, three feet was dangerously close. Still, once I had a moment to think about it, I realized I wasn’t actually afraid. At least, not like I had been last night. Crap, I’d been a mess last night. A big, fat, convulsing mess—especially near the end. A small amount of embarrassment washed over me at what a complete moron I’d been. Logically, I knew Wes was right. I’d been in medical shock. But still, I must’ve seemed like a total wimp.
Besides that, Wes had been the one to help me get it together after the attack. He’d given me a ride and helped me sneak past my mom and, as far as the memory removal thing, I had to admit, it’d certainly been necessary. I couldn’t really be mad at him for it. And most importantly, he had answers, which was something I still wanted. So, rather than call attention to my reaction, I changed the subject. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Mess with my head like that. How did you make me forget everything?”
“I thought you remembered.”
“I do. I mean, I remember you telling me you were going to do it and I remember agreeing. I closed my eyes. One minute the memories were there and the next minute they were gone. I want to know how.”
He shrugged. “It’s a gift. Some of us are gifted with special … skills. Altering memories is one of mine.”
“What, like a superpower or something?”
“Or something.”
“So, do all Werewolves have extra gifts, or just you?”
“Most Werewolves can manipulate memory on some level. It helps us keep our secret.”
“But how do you do it?” I pressed.
“Shouldn’t you be more concerned with your role in all of this?” he snapped.
I blinked, trying to figure out what I’d said to make him suddenly so irritated. “I guess I hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”
He spread his arms wide. “Well, here we are.”
My eyes narrowed. I was tired of his attitude and instead of feeling guilty for having somehow caused it, it was making me angry. “No, here I am. Thanks for helping me last night, but I’m fine. You don’t still have to be here.”
“Actually I do,” he argued.
“And why is that?”
“To determine what kind of threat you are.”
“Threat? To who?”
“Werewolves, of course.”
“But she came after me. I was defending myself.”
“Still, only a Hunter would’ve had that kind of strength. Which means, it could happen again. It’s only a matter of time before you figure yourself out and when that happens, I need to know whose side you’ll be on.”
I was trying to follow what he was saying, but none of it was making any sense. “There are sides?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t elaborate. I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Okay, well, we won’t know which side I’m on until I understand all of this, so how about you fill me in, from the beginning.”
He frowned and I was sure he was going to refuse, so it surprised me when he started talking. “Liliana was in town for the night and said she wanted to meet up. We’d been … working on something together. I was running late so I cut through the alley, which is the only reason I found you. By then, Liliana was already down, and you looked like you were going into shock. I couldn’t have you running back inside and bringing humans into it, so I decided to help you.”
I hadn’t missed the way he’d hesitated over why he’d been meeting Liliana. Was it possible they’d been a couple? If so, no wonder he seemed pissed. I didn’t ask about it, though. Something told me it would end the conversation, and there was still plenty more I wanted to know. “You called me a Hunter.”
He nodded. “You must be. It’s the only possible way you’d have the strength to kill one of us.” He gave me a strange look before continuing. “The thing is, I don’t even get a feeling from you, or—I do, but it’s not like a normal Hunter would feel. It’s … I don’t know. Which definitely makes no sense. Added to that, you obviously have zero training and no weapons so you can understand why I’m more than a little curious about you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this last night?”
He gave me a pointed look. “You were pretty shaken up. I don’t think it would’ve gone over well.”
“I’m fine now,” I said, lifting my chin a little.
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”
“Okay, whatever, I lost it. Anyone would have, in my situation. But I’m dealing with it now and I’m not going to freak out. That won’t happen again.”
“Yes, it will.” He cut me off before I could argue. “Not you freaking out—at least I hope not—but the attack, killing a Werewolf. That part will happen again. If one found you, so can others, and even though I can’t sense ‘Hunter’ on you, I can only assume Liliana did. Which means they will, too, and they’ll attack as soon as they feel it.”
“You’re just trying to scare me.”
He didn’t respond but the look he gave left no question that he was serious.
Knowing he was right did weird things to my gut. It was scary, once you got over the hump and believed it all. Who wanted to spend their lives looking over their shoulders for angry Werewolves? But, if this was all real—and I was slowly starting to recognize that it was—then I needed to be prepared. I needed to face it. The truth was always better than a lie, no matter how scary it might be. “All right, then, so what do I do?” I asked.
“First off, we need to figure out if you really are a Hunter.”
“How do we do that?”
“The best way is to get you around some others who can maybe sense you better. Are you sure you’ve recovered from the shock, though?”
An image popped into my head, of seeing my reflection in the bathroom mirror—after. The look on my face was one of shock and underneath it, pure terror. “I think I must’ve been afraid of myself a little,” I admitted. “But yes, I’m fine now. Promise.”
He nodded, his expression hedging on understanding. He studied me a minute longer. “C’mon,” he finally said, rising from my desk chair. “Get dressed.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m going to take you to see someone. Try to figure this thing out.” He put the chair back and took up his original position, leaning against the doorframe.
I didn’t move from the bed. “Who?”
“Friends. Like I said, maybe they can get a read on you.”
I had no idea what he meant by “a read on” me, but I was interested in answers. Still, I didn’t know where he might take me, or to whom. It could be dangerous, some kind of trap.
“I’m not going to hurt you, and neither will anyone else,” We
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
I had no idea why I was making him guarantee something I didn’t understand. I still didn’t know if I could fully trust him, but right now he was my only shot at discovering what was truly going on. Scary as it was, I needed clarity; I needed to know the truth. Some things were just too big to brush under the rug.
I flung the covers aside and hopped up, making my way towards the bathroom. I felt Wes’s eyes on me, and my cheeks heated up in automatic response. His gaze lingered on my abdomen, and only then did I remember my shirt was short enough to reveal the ends of the scratches along my ribs. Then, my neck and ears ignited as I realized he hadn’t been checking me out in the way I’d assumed. I turned away, hoping he hadn’t noticed my embarrassment, and booked it to the bathroom. On the way, I scooped up a pair of jeans and a fresh shirt from the laundry basket.
I threw on the clothes, ran a brush through my tangled hair, added some light makeup. Dark circles ringed my eyes, and I did my best to cover them. Satisfied, I reached for the door, and paused. I really had no idea where Wes was taking me, or who—or what—I’d be meeting. Maybe this dangerous stranger would be mad that I’d killed Liliana.
I needed a weapon—something I could conceal on my body but access easily, if needed. I looked around the tiny bathroom. The choices were limited. I didn’t think my razor would do much good, unless my attacker stopped and demanded a haircut. Makeup brushes and bottles of foundation littered the counter, along with my toothbrush. Again, no good.
My eyes landed on the plunger tucked behind the toilet. I grabbed it and held one end of the wooden handle in each hand. Using my knee as a brace, I brought it down hard, and had the satisfaction of watching it break off at the bottom. I snapped the wood again, so I now held a piece in each hand, and stuffed them into my back pockets, using my shirt to cover them up. I threw the rubber end into the cabinet to hide it from my mom. It would have to do.
~ 4 ~