Winter (Mist Riders Book 2) Read online

  “Then I’m staying to help.”

  I knew there was no shaking his determination. I had to come up with something or he’d spend the night in my ravished apartment, watching me slowly lose my mind as I sifted through the wreckage of my life.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll go to my friend’s house. Lily. Her mom’s house. I’m spending New Year’s Eve there anyway. They’ll happily take me in.”

  He crossed his arms on his chest. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, almost defiantly. “And I will escort you there.”

  “You’re a pest, you know that?”

  “Call it what you will,” he said, “but we both know you won’t go otherwise, and I mean to see you to a safe shelter.”

  “Fine, nineteenth century English dandy, have it your way,” I said. “And while you’re at it, you can carry my suitcase.”

  I followed Emmet out. I didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER 5

  ____________________________________

  Thirty minutes later, I stepped into Lily’s open arms. Lucky for me, she was home that night to protect me from the maternal inquisition I would have faced spending the night alone with Lucia.

  “Did you get my text?” I said while she eyed Emmet like a prized calf.

  “I just did,” she said. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. Is everything okay? Am I being punked? You shut down every invite for a sleepover in the past. And why’s he here? Are you eloping? Did he get you pregnant? You better not have gotten my friend pregnant, my dude.”

  I just laughed. She made me laugh. “Nobody’s pregnant, Lil.”

  “Yeah,” Emmet said. “I never even got to—”

  Lily and I both turned on him with dagger eyes.

  “Got to what?” I said.

  Emmet went straight red. “Uh,” he said.

  “Uh… My thoughts exactly,” I said.

  Now Lily laughed. “I take it this is Emmet.”

  “Yep,” he said, reaching out his hand. “I’m Emmet.”

  They shook. “I’m Lily. Charmed.” She stepped aside to let us enter.

  “It’s been a long night,” I said.

  “What the hell happened?” Lily said as she locked the door.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Campus thieves broke into my place. Emmet chased them away before they could take anything.”

  “Oh, my poor dove, that’s hardly nothing,” Lucia said, walking out from the kitchen wearing a red apron and yellow latex gloves. She took off the gloves one after the other and wiped both hands on her apron. She hugged me tight, then gently brushed back my hair. “Are you okay? All in one piece?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “That’s Emmet,” Lily said. “Don’t worry, he hasn’t gotten her pregnant.”

  “I should hope not,” Lucia said. “What a thing to say. Not everything is an opportunity for your mordant jokes, sweetheart.”

  “It’s all good, Lucia,” I said. “I’m just grateful to you both.”

  Lucia smiled and took my hand. Her dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail, her bronze hoop earrings jangling as she turned to Emmet.

  “I was going to make up the sunroom for you, Sophie, but since you brought your boyfriend, you two can have my room.”

  In her mid-forties, Lucia didn’t look a day older than thirty.

  Emmet’s eyes widened as he gave Lucia a toothy grin. Literally every young man who had ever met Lucia formed an instant Mrs. Robinson crush.

  “The sunroom will be fine,” I said. “Emmet was just leaving.”

  “I just wanted to make sure she got here in one piece,” he added.

  “At the very least that has earned you a warm meal,” Lucia asserted.

  In lieu of past misfortunes, I would have preferred Lucia not break bread with any more supernatural beings like Emmet. It still made me cringe to imagine her both in bed with Chaos and doing his evil bidding. It did not help that she neither consented nor could remember any of it. I could. In fact, it was burnt forever in my memory.

  “Isn’t it a bit late for dinner?” I said, knowing it would do no good.

  Lucia grinned. “In my world it’s never too late for dinner.”

  Lily mouthed a no kidding behind Lucia’s back to confirm the veracity of what her mother had said.

  In the living room, colorful pieces of patterned paper lay scattered all over the couch and carpet. Lucia stacked them on the coffee table as she talked.

  “It’s so good to see you, Sophie,” she said while she and Lily picked up the last of the scrap paper. “I did hope you’d spend more time in Astoria with your grandma. Is she doing well?”

  “Boundaries, Mom,” Lily said.

  “Gram’s great. Astoria was quiet, cold and snowed in,” I said.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Lucia said before disappearing to the kitchen.

  On the bookshelves, paper animals and flowers, even a paper dragon, stood in a row. Apparently, Lucia had taken up origami.

  Lucia returned suddenly with a platter full of bright colored macarons and petit fours. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of weather,” she said, considering Emmet. “Your boyfriend is more than welcome to stay the night. It’s obvious how much he has missed you.”

  “Emmet and I are just friends.”

  Lucia nodded. “Well, good friends are precious.”

  “Mom…” Lily said.

  I popped a pink macaron into my mouth and chewed slowly. The almond paste pastry melted on my tongue. I licked my lips. I might as well take control of this conversation.

  “Emmet stopped by my place,” I said. “He noticed the door open and ended up physically confronting the vandals.”

  “Oh my god,” Lily said, covering her mouth. “Were you home?”

  “I was on a plane,” I said. “Emmet played the hero.”

  “I should say he did,” Lucia said. “What did the police say?”

  The police. Right. That’s what basic people would have done, call the police. My complete mental and physical fatigue made it impossible for me to come up with a plausible lie.

  Smooth Emmet came to my rescue. “They’re looking into it.”

  Lucia nodded, unconvinced. I could see questions forming.

  “Anyway, the door lock was unfixable. Emmet insisted I not stay in my apartment in that condition, so here I am.”

  “Good man, Emmet,” Lucia said. “Our Sophie can be stubborn.”

  Lily’s face lit up. “Can be? Huh. No. Sophie is next level, has-to-be stubborn. Like brick-wall stubborn, bullfight stubborn, dude, I mean Sasha Fierce stubborn, Buddha at the lotus tree—”

  “We get it,” I said, stopping her.

  “Do you have renter’s insurance?” Lucia said.

  Did I?

  “It was nice meeting you. I appreciate the invite, but I really do have to get going,” Emmet said. “Sophie, may I have a word?”

  “Another time,” Lucia said. “Safe travels.”

  “Later, dude,” Lily said.

  I followed Emmet out. His features sharpened as we shut the door behind us and stood on the front steps.

  “I know I don’t need to tell you this,” Emmet said, “but the less they know the better. It’s not a matter of trust. They seem nice enough.”

  “If you knew you didn’t need to tell me, then why did you?”

  He stared down at me, his eyes sparking with golden specks. “Why do you do that? Push everyone away.”

  His sincerity unnerved me. A night breeze chased playfully through the violet leaves of a blue Jacaranda tree across the street.

  “It’s the best way to get some space,” I said, quieter than planned. “I obviously won’t tell Lily or her mom anything about anything.”

  He scratched the back side of his shoulder. “Listen, I can stay out here in the shadows, stand guard on the house.”

  Wolf shifters and their everlasting need to be the alpha.

  “Concentrate on your own safety, Emmet. They know how to find you and they have no qualms about hurting you.
Believe me.”

  “I can take care of myself. If they come, I won’t run.”

  Another fool who would die to prove a point.

  “Okay, I know you’re a badass, just please don’t go home tonight. Go somewhere else, a friend… the pack. How does that work, are you registered with the local pack? Is there even a pack in San Diego?”

  He grinned. “You don’t know much about shifters, do you? Didn’t they teach you all this down in the big below?”

  “It’s the deep down,” I said.

  “I know,” he said. “I listened when my elders taught me about all the supernatural beings. I’ll refresh your memory. A shifter will not move to a new habitat unless there is an established pack in place. Whether we register as a permanent member or not, we still have a bonding ceremony where we take the oath of allegiance.”

  “So, go to them tonight,” I insisted. “Let them protect you.”

  He sighed. “You’re as stubborn as Lily says. It’s the last thing I want to do, but if it puts your mind at ease, I’ll check into the local den.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning. And, Sophie, you should reconsider calling the cops. It might not be a bad idea.”

  “What can the basic cops do?” I said.

  “They won’t find prints or clues, but they might keep the intruders away for a day or two. Most cops have body cameras now. Supernatural thugs hate cameras even more than they hate cops.”

  “Sure, I’ll give it some thought. Now, please go find the pack.”

  He leaned in to kiss my cheek. His breath smelled minty and inviting.

  “I missed that,” he said.

  “Just be safe tonight,” I said, trying not to shudder.

  Emmet Groshek was one of the good guys, steadfast and strong, but not immortal. His courage only made him more vulnerable, and all I wanted was that he should stay forever in one piece.

  I closed the door between us and pressed my head against it. Emmet thought I’d be safe in a basic home, but the truth was that my being here would only invite trouble onto my friends’ heads.

  Chaos had already recruited Lucia once. To him there were no rules to the game. He made the rules and then forgot them. There was no shortage to destructive bastards in any world—magic, basic or otherwise. The only difference was that Chaos and his dark Immortal army could destroy every-single-thing all the way down to a cellular level.

  On second thought, I was the best defense my friends could have, and I would sleep better that night knowing they were close.

  CHAPTER 6

  ____________________________________

  Thin streaks of blood rolled down the wood, drenching the welcome mat. It was as if an open wound oozed from the center of the door. Thank god I had listened to Emmet and didn’t stay at my apartment last night.

  I lay awake until just before dawn, staring at the sky through the glass ceiling of Lucia’s sunroom. I listened to the sounds of the night outside, recreating the dark street in my mind’s eye.

  When the sun broke, I snuck out, hoping that daylight would be enough to shield my friends from malevolent beings.

  The bloody gash on my door was noticeable from a block away. Hurrying to the door, I quickly curled my hands into fists beckoning my elemental power. Energy swelled and sizzled on my palms, then detonated, sparking and howling as it began to envelope the blood.

  I did not care if the reverberations reached other supernatural creatures or the orbs or even the Deep Down itself. I did not care if any of my neighbors were awake and watching magic spill from my hands. All I cared about was that my invocation mustered enough might to crush and conquer the blood preserving spell on my door in the most conspicuous manner possible.

  I shut my eyes, overwhelmed by my own gathering force as it collided with the foreign power. The door jerked and rattled on its hinges. Black smoke emanated from the red liquid as I drew the spell out bit by bit.

  My magic began to assert itself inside the blood. A sharp ache cut through me, forcing me to bend over. Some powerful entity was trying to intercept my spell. I clenched my teeth and pushed harder against the resistance, bringing the full weight of my power upon the blood sorcery.

  Yeah, that’s right, I’m here, come and get me.

  The smell of boiling blood invaded my nostrils as a hissing sound pierced my ears. I grunted. I shook. I persisted. The blood began to retreat, shrinking slowly down to a final fizzy bubble until it burst and every drop was gone.

  My head throbbed.

  Now my enemies knew I was back at the apartment. They knew I had kicked their sorcery’s ass, their spell just collapsing under my strength.

  They felt that. Oh, yes, they did.

  I covered myself with a glowing energy shield. I was taking no chances. There would be no pitch-black surprises for me. Sorry, assholes.

  Pushing the door open, I stepped through the mess. I surveyed the debris. No signs of any additional damage. Everything looked the same except the coffee table. It was now, somehow, standing on its four legs.

  I walked to it slowly, still safe inside my shield. There was a folded paper on the table. I nudged the paper and watched as it unfolded like it had been waiting for me to arrive.

  The note was written in blood.

  To save the crossbreed

  The witch must succumb

  To the Lord of soul swallowers

  I rubbed the nape of my neck. What did that mean? Assuming the witch was me, who was the crossbreed that needed saving and, more importantly, what exactly were the soul swallowers? They didn’t sound fun.

  My trail of thought was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. What do you know? The soul swallowers were polite fiends.

  I marched to the door and yanked it open. A gray-haired man in a dark blue suit stared at me. He looked like Emmet if he had grown thirty years older in a single night and had an old scar just above his right eyebrow.

  For a moment, I was unable to speak, then I remembered I had seen the man before, at a distance, standing next to Emmet at the mall. His father.

  “My name is Ken Groshek,” the man said. “I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

  That word held a different meaning for him, no doubt, than it did for me.

  I stepped outside and closed the door. I was not in the mood for a conversation about the sorry state of my place.

  “How may I help you?” I said.

  His eyes focused on the door behind me. “Could we talk inside?”

  I shook my head. “We can’t. Sorry.”

  This didn’t seem to faze him. He breathed out through his nose and locked his eyes on mine. “It might be a shot in the dark, but you might be the only person who can assist me.”

  “Assist you? I don’t understand.”

  “Emmet’s missing,” Ken Groshek said. “He thinks the world of you, Miss Collinsworth. Is there any chance you have heard from him?”

  His voice broke on the last syllable. His breathing became labored as he adjusted the cuffs of his linen jacket.

  “Emmet’s fine, Mr. Groshek,” I said, plastering a grin of reassurance on my face. “He’s with the local pack.”

  He shook his head. “Emmet was taken last night outside the pack keep. A perimeter Delta glimpsed the abduction, but he failed to intervene.”

  The elements stilled. My heartbeat raced. I wanted to believe I had heard him wrong, but the sad certainty in Mr. Groshek’s eyes overwhelmed me.

  I relented and opened the door so we could talk inside. His jaw went slack as he absorbed the frantic disarray of my front room.

  “Tell me everything you know,” I said.

  “Five men in hoods attacked Emmet,” he explained. Thankfully, he chose not to inquire further about my gutted apartment. “The Delta guard howled for backup, then left the overlook immediately to help, but by the time he and the others could get down there, a black van with no plates was racing off.”

  “Who relayed the stor
y to you?”

  “The pack’s leader. He called me from Emmet’s phone. He must have dropped it during the fight.”

  Knowing Emmet, the dropping of his phone was intentional. “Where’s the phone now?”

  “Two wolf shifters brought it to me. His last text was to you. I thought maybe you knew what he meant.”

  “Can I see it?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Haven’t you read it yet?”

  Even though I knew the text wouldn’t be there, I checked my phone anyway. Nothing. Stupid, stupid phone.

  “The message never got through,” I said.

  With a sigh, Mr. Groshek handed me his son’s phone.

  They’re here. U not safe. Go home.

  Home? He didn’t mean the apartment. He meant the Deep Down. Did his father guess that? Did he even know I was a witch?

  “I was hoping you could explain his shorthand,” Mr. Groshek said. “It sounds as if both of you might know the kidnappers.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t. I imagine Emmet assumed they’re the same guys who wrecked my apartment, but I wasn’t here to see them.”

  He nodded, slowly, several times, then rubbed his forehead. “I’m probably way off and I mean no offense, but I have to ask. Are you a shapeshifter, Miss Collinsworth?”

  The question surprised me. I stifled an involuntary laugh. “No, Mr. Groshek, I most certainly am not. And please, call me Sophie.”

  He looked down and sighed. “Maybe you can’t help then.” He flashed his worried eyes. “Or maybe you know about this.”

  The troubled man handed me a folded paper. It looked identical to the one I found on my coffee table, but the note was written in black marker ink, not blood.

  Find the witch. Only she can save the crossbreed.

  Okay, so the cat was out of the bag. Mr. Groshek had very clearly been clued in about who I was, but somehow remained uncertain about me. He suspected I was the witch and now I suspected Emmet was the crossbreed—half basic, half shapeshifter.

  “Where did you find this?” I asked, glancing to the note as if all the answers I would ever need were contained there.

  “Nailed to Emmet’s door.”