Hunter's Blood Special Edition (Cursed by Blood Saga) (22 page)

Lily followed him to the back of the
car. “No problem. Just tell him I’m being a good girl, and following your
instructions to the letter.”

Jack snorted, putting the key in the
lock and popping the trunk. “Yeah, right. You forget he knows you probably
better than you know yourself, and he’ll trust matters more if I tell him how
much of a pain in the ass you’ve been. All’s right with the world when you’re
the bitch we all know and love.”

Oh, come on! I’m not
that
bad,”
she said with a frown.

Jack raised one eyebrow.

At his skeptical look, she couldn’t
help but smile. “Okay, maybe I do have my moments, but that’s what makes me so
special.”

“Ha! Why don’t you make yourself
useful and go grab some groceries? I’m sure there’s nothing but a box of baking
soda in that fridge of yours. I’ll be right behind you. I’m not sure how long
he’s gonna keep me talking.”

Jack handed her a wad of cash, and
Lily shoved it in the front pocket of her jeans. “Anything in particular you
want? Dog biscuits, a rawhide bone?”

“Funny. I guess you want to carry your
own suitcases upstairs, huh,” he said, reaching in for the biggest bag and
lifting it out of the trunk with ease.

With a wry grin, she hiked her pack
onto one shoulder. “No, that’s what Sean sent
you
for.”

“Yes, ma’am. I live to serve,” he
mumbled, flourishing a mock bow.

Chuckling, she headed across the
street to the Korean market on the corner, stopping at the curb to look up at
the red brick apartment house she had called home for the past five years.

Lily hadn’t been here since she pulled
away from the same curb a week after Terry’s funeral, hell-bent on killing the
creature that killed her best friend. The same creature that turned out to be
Sean’s brother, Jerard.

She sucked in a deep breath, and
headed into the market.

“Don’t forget coffee!” Jack shouted
from across the street, and Lily looked back over her shoulder to wave, but he
was already on his cell phone.

With two bags of groceries in tow, she
crossed the street, passing Jack as he unloaded the last of the bags onto the
sidewalk. Sean had obviously kept him talking the whole time she had been in
the store, and she cringed, wondering just what the hell else was happening up
at the Compound.

She unlocked the vestibule door and
stepped through onto the black and white subway tiles of the main lobby. She
glanced up the stairs and then back over her shoulder at the small but heavy
pile of luggage out on the sidewalk. The building was a five-floor walkup, so
regardless of how hairy they were, she was grateful for Jack’s supernaturally
strong arms.

The hallway smelled of street dirt and
Pine-Sol, with an underlying scent of sesame oil from the Chinese takeout next
door. She was home.

The lobby door opened. “Where do you
want these?” Jack asked, carrying all the bags at once.

“Fifth floor,” Lily said shoving her
leather keychain into his mouth. “I’ve got the penthouse.”

“Great,” he mumbled and started up the
stairs, her keys jingling from his teeth.

“Wait! I need the mailbox key.”

Jack put two of the bags on the step
and tossed her the set of keys.

She wiped the wet teeth marks on her
pants, unhooked the brass colored key and tossed the rest back up. “The square
key with the black rubber grip is the key to my apartment. I’ve got the whole
fifth floor.”

Jack growled, keys jingling from his
mouth again.

With a chuckle, she put the grocery
bags on the floor and unlocked the mailbox. A rush of envelopes and magazines
fell in a clutter at her feet, with the rest crammed all the way to the back of
the narrow box. She sighed. “Two months’ worth of junk mail and overdue bills.”

She pulled the key from the lock, and
reached inside for the rest. Stuck to the opposite side of the door was a note,
and one look told her exactly who from.

Lily—

I’m so sorry about Terry. With the
mail piling up, I figured you were away trying to sort things. Not to worry.
Been keeping the rest down at the post office until you get back. My prayers
are with you— Henry

Tears pricked at the corners of Lily’s
eyes. Terry’s death had left a hole in her heart the size of her fist, which no
one could fill. Not even Sean. She was better, but she’d never fully get over
it.

With a deep breath, she stuck the note
in her pocket and bent to gather the letters from the floor. “It doesn’t cost
anything to be nice,” she whispered, repeating the words Terry had said after
taping a thank you gift for Henry to the inside of the mailbox before their
trip to Maine. The trip that left Terry dead and Lily’s life changed for good.

She picked up her grocery bags,
adjusting her backpack before heading up the stairs.

Jack had left the door ajar. Guess the
big bad wolf needed a lesson on life in the big, bad city. She nudged the door
the rest of the way open with her foot. “Hey! How about a little help,” she
called, struggling in with the groceries and the mail now overflowing from the
top of the paper bags.

“What’s all that?” Jack asked, coming
out of the bathroom.

“My mail.”

“I guess you never got the chance to
put it on hold, huh,” he said, taking one of the bags from her.

“Ahhh...no,” she said, putting the
other bag and her backpack down on the kitchen table.

“Nice place, Lily. With the stories
you hear about New York rents, I didn’t expect it to be so big.”

With her hands folded across her
chest, Lily looked around the apartment. “Thanks.” Wrinkling her nose, she
rubbed the end of it with her knuckle. There had to be at least a half inch of
dust on everything.

Stifling a sneeze, she pinched the end
of her nose between her fingers, her eyes watering in the process.

“Oh, that’s classy.”

“Trust me, sneezing would only make it
worse,” she said, taking the box of tissues he’d rummaged from one of the
shopping bags.

Lily blew her nose, and walked into
the living room. Except for the dead plants and the cobwebs, it was just as she
and Terry had left it, down to the empty ammo boxes on the coffee table.

The apartment might be huge by New
York standards, but it was crammed with memories. Everywhere she looked there
were poignant reminders of where her life had been, in contrast to where it was
now. On top of everything else, the word
full
blinked across the
answering machine’s digital lcd, and she cringed inwardly, wondering how many
were messages about Terry that she’d yet to listen to.

Jack leaned on the arm of the sofa,
his arms crossed in front of him. “How about you take a shower, and I’ll make
us something to eat.”

Lily exhaled, watching the tall, dark
haired Were watching her. Perhaps Sean was right. Whatever Jack’s function, she
was glad she didn’t have to face the emptiness of the apartment alone. Nodding,
she gave him half a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

Lily grabbed one of her suitcases, and
headed down the hall toward her bedroom. Terry’s door was to the right, and she
hesitated as she passed. The two had been roommates since college, but had been
friends forever. A born pack rat, Terry saved mementos from almost everywhere
she went, cramming them into every nook and cranny. Now the small ten by twelve
room was bare, except for the plain oak furniture. It was clear Terry’s parents
had been by to collect her things, and Lily ached inwardly at the thought.

Jack had already dropped his bags on
the floor next to the bed. Lily frowned. He would have to sleep somewhere, and
she knew she couldn’t relegate him to the couch, not with a perfectly
acceptable bedroom available. But even logic couldn’t stop the idea from
jabbing at her heart.

“Get a grip, Lily. It’s not like he
hijacked the room or anything,” she muttered, opening the closet for a clean
set of sheets. She placed them on the bare mattress and took a down comforter
from the chest at the foot of the bed, smoothing the top of the soft fleece as
she placed it next to the linens.

With nothing else to keep her, she
turned toward the door but stopped. Terry’s room faced the street, and in the
sooty glow from the streetlights outside the window, she spotted a wooden box
sitting high on the tall chest of drawers in the corner of the room.

Squinting, she walked closer, delight
and sorrow dueling between her heart and mind as she realized what it was.

Twice the size of a typical cigar box,
she lifted the wooden rectangle off the dresser, carefully brushing the dust
from the faded pictures and magazine cutouts glued to the lid.

She and Terry had made the treasure
box when the two were in fifth grade. Inside, were things they had collected
and cherished, some silly, some tender, but all priceless. As time passed, Lily
had lost interest in the collection, but Terry kept adding to it, year after
year.

The girls were juniors in high school
when
The Bourne Supremacy
released in theaters, and Lily laughed,
remembering how she teased Terry about her crush on Matt Damon and the sexy
picture of him she glued to the top right corner of the cover. On the opposite
side was a picture of Leonardo Dicaprio from the 1996 version of Romeo and
Juliet, and even though it put Terry in danger of earning geek squad status,
she nearly wore out the DVD with how many times she’d watched it.

Lily swallowed against the lump
tightening her throat. Terry’s parents had found a missing piece of her, of
Terry, and left it for Lily to find when she finally came home. “Thank you,”
she whispered into the silence. Drawing in a breath, she tucked the box under
her arm and crossed the room, leaving the door ajar as she headed back into the
hall.

In her own room, everything was in its
place as well, including her cell phone still in its charger. She had purposely
left it behind, not wanting anyone to get in her way or hinder her plans for
revenge. Not that it would have done any good.

She sat on the bed and slid the memory
box onto her nightstand. The outside edges of the rectangle and the homemade
latch were fashioned with braids made from multi-colored telephone wire the
girls had swiped from the back of a repair truck.

As if it would lessen the pain, she
lifted the lid slowly. Lily’s hand went to her mouth, a sad smile spreading
beneath her fingers. Tears gathered, and she blinked, the droplets falling onto
the back of her hand. Terry had left her a time capsule—with layer after layer
of mementos and memories, a true testimony to their friendship.

On top were the pictures they took
before prom. Terry looked so young and beautiful in her blue satin, with her
hair swept up in curls and baby’s breath. Lily shook her head looking at
herself in the photo, as well. She had felt like a Barbie, all powdered and
pink in her organza gown.
Organza. Her.
But Terry had insisted, telling
Lily her penchant for black leather was the complete antithesis of prom. Lily
remembered arguing that was the whole point, but in the end, didn’t have the
heart to disappoint Terry.

Underneath, hidden behind seashells
and clandestine notes saved from study hall, were two rope friendship
bracelets. Lily slipped them on her wrist, and suddenly it was as if time
slipped away. They had each turned twelve that summer, and Terry’s parents,
Beverly and Carl, had taken them to Mystic Seaport in Connecticut as a
surprise. A Tall Ships Festival was in town for the weekend, adorning the
harbor and the surrounding town with all kinds of events. Shops and tents
dotted the graveled path winding through the nineteenth century museum village.
Giggling, the girls had gone from craft to craft until they’d found an old man
sitting on a stack of barrels beside one of the whaling schooners. He was tying
sailor’s knots in scraps of rigging. Intrigued, Lily had asked him to teach
them how to braid the ropes.

“Pretty girls should have pretty
things,” he’d said with a wheezy laugh. With a wink, he had held out pieces of
rope toward the girls, and then laughed even louder when Terry stepped back,
scooting behind Lily. “Ahh, lass, don’t be shy. I mean you no harm. I’ll teach
you to make a Claddagh braid then, something pretty for two such pretty
sisters, eh?”

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Lily
ran her fingers over the rough rope, tracing the intricate patterns in the
braid. “Pretty sisters,” she murmured. It was true in every sense of the word
except blood. Unlike Lily, Terry was forever the romantic, and when she
discovered the Claddagh braid was an ancient symbol of love, friendship and
loyalty, she swore the old man must have been a fae messenger, and that
something extraordinary was going to happen. She even stole Carl’s pen knife
that night, determined they’d be blood sisters, binding them to whatever magic
came their way.

Lily ran her fingers over the faded
scar at the center of her left palm. It had hurt like hell and bled like a
stuck pig, but Terry wouldn’t take no for an answer. Silly as it was, she even
tied their hands together with one of her mom’s scarves like she saw in a movie
once, and boy, did they catch hell for it—not only for the bloodstains on her
mom’s favorite scarf, but because Beverly swore they would end up with tetanus.