Raven Cursed

“Could have been werewolves.”

 

 

There was a long silence, and I could almost see Molly testing the wards on and around her home. “Hmmm,” she said, her voice dropping an octave. “We have them set to allow wildlife through. Looks like we need to change a few settings.” Change a few settings was Mol’s way of talking to me about magic. She knew I’d never understand if she used real magic vernacular.

 

“Mol. They’re looking to make mates. Human females don’t survive the werewolf taint. Maybe they think a witch might have a better chance. Tell your sisters. Be careful.”

 

“I saw the mug shots on TV. They followed you here, didn’t they?”

 

Molly was smart. Sometimes too smart for my comfort level. “Could be,” I admitted.

 

“Big Evan will have a cow. So don’t tell him. I gotta go, Jane.”

 

She called me Jane. Which meant she wasn’t happy with me. “Bye, Mol,” I said, feeling properly rebuked. She hung up without saying good-bye. Great. I was putting the family of my best friend in the world in danger. Again. If Big Evan found out I was responsible for this latest situation, he’d skin me alive and I’d deserve it, totally.

 

Weary and sleepy, I tucked the cell into my pocket and ate the last of the sweet potato fries before heading to the parking lot where I climbed into the SUV and sat with the air-conditioning running, thinking. I could drive up the mountain and visit with Rick, but . . . Guilt and exhaustion in equal measure taunted me. Exhaustion won. I wheeled the heavy vehicle out of the Bean Trees lot and onto the interstate. Away from Rick. Chicken, yeah, that’s me. I’d rather fight an old rogue-vamp in my underwear, with my bare hands, than deal with relationship problems.

 

I motored back to Asheville along Highway 70. Along the way I crossed over Big Laurel and Spring Creek where Mike and Dave said there were multiple grindy marks. Because the summer had been so wet, they were running, but only enough to support smallmouth bass, not a boat. The rocks I could spot from the road were smaller than the boulders on Big Creek, the runs looked twisty but easy. But what did I know? Less and less the longer I lived.

 

Back at the hotel, I dropped off the vehicle with the valet and found my room by feel and smell. Way past exhausted, I showered off the sweat, fell onto my bed, and wrapped up in the sheets; I was asleep instantly.

 

And woke just as quickly. Predator in my den, Beast thought at me. Human male. Stranger.

 

Someone was entering my room. Yeah, there had been knocking. My sleeping mind had ignored it, thinking it was housekeeping. Thinking they’d see the DO NOT DISTURB sign and go away. He hadn’t seen the sign because he’d entered from the twins’ adjoining suite.

 

I didn’t move, my breathing steady and slow, listening, eyes slanted open a crack. Afternoon light angled through the window blinds. I’d been asleep for several hours and was now lying on my stomach, hair everywhere, pillow pushed away, hands buried under it, thick comforter bunched at my side, hiding me from the sitting area. And obscuring my view of the intruder.

 

Two guns were on the nightstand, three feet away. I’d have to push upright, roll, grab, off-safety, aim, and squeeze the trigger. If he was armed, I’d be dead. The knives were on the coffee table several feet away. My weapons might as well be in Europe. And there might be people in the next room. Others in the hallway. Collateral damage. All I had was speed, bed linens, and pillows. Not much to use against an attacker. I was naked. Vulnerable. Alone. But then, he didn’t know I was here, what weapons I might be holding, or were at my sides in the sheets. A tiny point in my favor. Or not. His uncertainty might make him kill me first and ask questions later.

 

Need claws, Beast thought. Shift.