Emma’s eyes had gone wide, like crazy, alien huge, but the puking had final y stopped. “No way,” she said, bringing her fisted hands to her side. “Not me. Not ever.”
Huh?
I was total y confused.
“Emma, are you okay?” I asked again. “Here, drink some water.”
I pul ed a water bottle from my bag and handed it to Emma. She shook her head and turned to reach for the water.
“Yeah, thanks,” she said. “Sorry, I must have had something bad to eat at lunch. I probably grabbed the wrong can of beans when I made my burrito this morning.
Did you know that if you don’t buy the refried beans labeled vegetarian that they put lard in them? No wonder I got sick.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “You seemed kind of freaked out.”
And what was that talk about not me, not ever?
The image of Emma with the alien eyes was burned into my brain. A little lard wouldn’t do that to a person, would it?
“Of course I’m sure,” Emma said. She tried to toss her hair in a huff, but it was stil pul ed up in a sil y topknot.
“What did you do to my hair?”
“Oh, that,” I said, trying not to laugh. Now she looked less like an alien and more like a strung out Kender. “I was helping.”
“Helping?” Emma said, reaching up to pul the elastic out.
“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d want puke in your hair,” I said.
“You’re the best,” Emma said, smiling. She reached out to bump knuckles and I knew that everything was back to normal. “Do you want your water back?”
“No, you keep it,” I said.
Yuck.
“Are you two alright?” Cal asked.
I had forgotten al about the guys. Cal and Simon were standing in the mouth of the al ey looking worried.
“We’re fine,” I said. But when I looked at Emma she had turned that sickly shade of green again. “Just a bit of potential lard poisoning. Sensitive vegan bel ies and al that.”
“Lead poisoning?” Simon asked, looking more worried. “Shouldn’t we be bringing her to a hospital?”
“No, not lead poisoning,” I said. “Lard poisoning.
Emma ate some non-vegetarian beans that contained lard.”
“I’l be fine,” Emma said, looking at the ground. “I’m not real y up for Mr. Green Genes now though. I think I’l head home. See you guys later.”
Emma pushed past, without looking up, jumped in her car and was gone.
Well that was weird.
“So, um, you guys want to grab take-out and eat at the cabin?” I asked.
Cal looked unsure about getting Simon and Gabriel into an enclosed space together, but I figured the cabin, though smal , was safer than a public restaurant. We real y didn’t need the fur to start flying with an audience.
“I’l treat for pizza,” I said.
That got their attention. Boys everywhere are the same. Werewolves, humans, it didn’t matter—they al loved pizza.
“Trying to win my heart, love?” Simon teased. “A meat-lover’s pizza wil get you…
everywhere
.” Ugh! I wasn’t real y in the mood for Simon’s flirtatious teasing, but at least it meant he wasn’t too depressed by the accusations that Gabriel had been slinging at him. It was amazing what some tomato sauce and melted cheese could accomplish. If I were writing a goth girl’s guide to making peace, I’d have an entire chapter on pizza, the ultimate tool for conflict resolution.
Peace-zah?
“Gabriel?” Cal asked.
Would my peace-zah theory work? I tried to smile innocently at Gabriel, which was actual y kind of hard since I was stil mad at him for shouting at Simon in the middle of the street. Seriously, what had he been thinking?
“Yes, Mr. Mil er, I wil join you for pizza,” Gabriel said.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking toward his car.
“I better go with Gabriel,” Cal said. “I don’t want him getting lost while trying to fol ow us.” Cal tossed his keys to Simon and jogged to Gabriel’s car.
“Hey, old man, I guess it’s just you and me,” I said. “If you want that meat-lover’s pizza, you better keep up.”
“I am only eight years older than you, love,” Simon said. “It’s not like I’m geriatric.”
Really?
I could have sworn Simon was older than that, but it didn’t matter. He was stil
old
.
I turned toward the pizza place down the street and Simon walked with long strides to stay one step ahead of me the entire way.
Boys.
Chapter 3
Riding in the cab of Cal’s truck with a lap covered in hot pizza and Simon at the wheel was strangely calming.
The memory of Dylan Jacobs’ motor oil smel impression was muted by the scent of steaming garlic and oregano.
My stomach growled, breaking the silence, and Simon laughed.
“Hungry, love?” he asked.
Okay, with Simon that could be a loaded question. I was
so
not taking the bait.
“So what does this Gabriel guy want?” I asked, changing the subject. “I mean, I get that he’s not a big fan, but why bother you now? He’s mad about something that happened like a gazil ion years ago, right?” Simon sighed and ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. He must be real y upset if he’s mangling those sculpted locks. That man uses a truckload of hair product.
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked about Gabriel.
“They say that time heals al wounds, but there are some wounds that time can never heal,” Simon said. “For some people time acts as a salve, but for others time is the infection that makes the wound fester.”
Gross.
“So Gabriel is one of the latter…al infected with rage?” I asked.
“Yes, love,” Simon said. “He has had seven years for his wounds to fester and that boy is now a cyst under pressure, just waiting to explode.”
“You only said that to make me give up my cheese pizza didn’t you?” I asked.
“Yes,” Simon said, grinning. “Did it work?”
“No,” I said.
“Too bad,” Simon said.
“You don’t even like cheese pizza!” I blurted.
“I have plenty of venison back at the cabin,” he said. “It would have been a meat pizza by the time I was done with it.”
“Bambi pizza?” I asked. “You’re sick, old man.”
“I just have refined taste,” Simon said.
“You are so ful of it,” I said.
“Perhaps,” Simon said.
He was beginning to sound serious again and I wondered if he was worried about the upcoming confrontation with Meredith’s brother. It couldn’t be easy having someone come along and dredge up the past, especial y when that past included losing the one person he ever loved.
I tried to imagine myself with Cal bleeding to death in my arms.
No.
It was too horrible. The image shot a pain like a knife thrust through my heart and tears came to my eyes. The cab of the truck suddenly felt too smal and my lungs strained for air.
“You alright, love?” Simon asked. “If you’re going to be sick, at least let me know so I can pul over. Cal won’t be too happy if we bring back his truck fil ed with puke. I’d blame you of course, but he’d probably stil get mad at me.” Simon’s selfish comments dispel ed the nightmare image, and I chose not to share my morbid thoughts. If he wanted to think his gross comments were making me sick, that was fine with me.
“Bambi pizza is disgusting, but I’m not giving you the satisfaction of throwing up,” I said. Simon raised an eyebrow and cast a longing glance at the boxes on my lap.
“And you are
not
getting my cheese pizza. Deal with it.” If Emma were here, she would be kicking his wolf behind for even
thinking
about Bambi pizza.
So much for
my peace-zah theory.
With a sigh, I turned to look out the passenger window, and sent a silent prayer that things didn’t become violent between Simon and Gabriel. We had enough to deal with without having to worry about those two tearing each other’s throats out.
*****
The scene at the cabin was not what I expected. Calvin and Gabriel had set the table with mismatched plates and silverware, though I suspected Simon would stil eat with his hands. They remained silent as Simon and I approached the table. I jumped at a low growl, realizing belatedly that it was only the scrape of a chair against the rough hewn floorboards. Wow, I was real y tense.
The portrait of domestic bliss remained undisturbed as we sat at the table together and helped ourselves to slices of pizza. Everyone avoided the big fat elephant in the room.
The thing is, our big fat elephant was in the form of an angelic looking brat (okay, that may not be entirely fair, but I real y wasn’t liking what I’d seen of Gabriel so far) and a quickly purpling bruise below Simon’s eye. Oh yeah, and the ghost of someone that they both had loved and lost.
I silently wished for one of Emma’s rants against the evils of pizza ingredients, but she was at home sick with some mutant stomach bug. It was just way too quiet. If someone didn’t start talking soon, I was going to go crazy. I looked hopeful y around the table, but Simon, Gabriel, and Cal were al staring intently into the depths of their pizza slices like the sauce and cheese held the secret of the universe.
Sigh.
I guess that just left me to lighten things up.
Problem was, the only things I could think about right now were werewolf fights, a puking BFF, and the ghost of Dylan Jacobs. Since I was trying to avoid the topic of Gabriel and Simon’s issues the topic of werewolf fisticuffs (pawicuffs?) was out. Discussing vomit at the dinner table also seemed like a bad idea.
Oh well, dead people it is.
“So, um, how about those smel impressions?” I blurted. “I mean, anyone want to know about the new ghost haunting me today?”
I know. That al just sounded total y lame, and everyone was looking at me like I’d sprouted wings and said I was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, but it was stil better than the tension fraught silence. At least they were looking at me instead of staring into their slices of pizza.
That was just
creepy.
“Sorry, we never did get a chance to talk about Dylan’s ghost,” Cal said, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “So, what does he smel like?”
“He...,” I said.
I was interrupted by the crashing sound of Gabriel’s fork fal ing and hitting his plate. Oh right. He’d have no idea what we were talking about.
Gabriel was looking at us like we were crazy and Simon barked out a laugh.
“I guess we have some explaining to do,” Cal said.
“Yuki can smel spirits of the dead…”
It was a
very
long explanation. For some reason Gabriel, who knew about paranormal stuff because, you know, he was a werewolf, had a hard time wrapping his brain around the concept of smel ing dead people.
Whatever.
I tried at first to help Cal explain my situation to Gabriel, but he wasn’t the easiest person to talk to. Gabriel tended to be whiny and argumentative. Trying to talk sense into that guy was just an exercise in frustration. I final y gave up and watched Cal patiently talk to The Brat while I ate an entire cheese pizza. I had a feeling that I was going to need my strength.
*****
“Yuki,” a voice whispered.
“Mmmmm…” I mumbled.
“Time to wake up,” Simon said.
Simon?
I opened my eyes as he backed away.
“What time is it?” I asked.
How did I fall asleep?
I looked over and saw that Cal was stil explaining my ability to smel spirits to Gabriel.
Ugh. I must have fal en into a food coma after eating that entire pizza. Either that or the sheer boredom of hearing Gabriel whine about how he “didn’t understand” had sent me retreating into the oblivion of sleep.
I hope I didn’t
drool.
“It’s late,” Simon said, dangling a set of keys. “Cal asked me to take you home.”
I pul ed myself up from my chair and looked over at Cal. I gave him a little wave as I turned to leave and he winked.
“Goodnight, Dung Beetle Princess,” Cal said. “I love you.”
Gabriel looked more confused than before. That boy had a majorly thick skul .
“Love you too,” I said.
I left with Simon, but wished that Cal was the one driving me home. Of course, that would have meant leaving Simon and Gabriel alone in the cabin—which would have been an epical y bad idea. I guess Cal had made the right choice sending me home with Simon, but I didn’t have to like it.
I spent the ride home dreaming of planes, trains, and automobiles—al ways for Gabriel to return to wherever he came from. He had come here and insulted and assaulted Simon. Calvin, their alpha, wasn’t going to let things go further than that. Hopeful y Gabriel would realize he had no reason to stay.
I didn’t know it at the time, but he did find a reason. In the brief time that I had known Gabriel he had been control ed by his need for revenge, but what I didn’t realize was that he was a man ruled by his heart, and love and hate are just two sides to the same coin.
Chapter 4
When Emma came to pick me up for school the next morning, I was running late. It was past midnight when Simon dropped me off at my house the night before. I had fal en asleep the second my head hit the pil ow and forgotten to set my alarm.
I raced down to the front door in my pajamas to wave Emma inside. She met me up in my bedroom a minute later.
“Sorry,” I said. “I overslept. I just need a sec to throw some clothes on. I’m already dreading school enough. I real y don’t want to show up in my jammies. The J-team would never let me live that down.”
I scanned the room for clothes. We had been so busy lately that I was way behind on my laundry. The hamper by the bathroom was spil ing over and my dirty clothes were spreading across the floor like some kind of black and red mold.
I considered giving my favorite hoodie the sniff test, but changed my mind. Even if it smel ed okay to me, it would stil smel stinky to my werewolf boyfriend. No, dirty clothes were not an option. I made a mental note to do laundry after school and grabbed a white tee with a cartoon rice bal on the front. I pul ed on the one clean black skirt that had been hanging alone in my closet and slid into my knee high boots. I could lace them up in the car.