Twisted (12 page)

“Unnecessarily cruel, wolf. I'm hurt. Really.” Tucker wiped pretend tears from his eyes. “Those witches and fairies are hot, and if I'm captured by one of them, I need to be in working order. You remember how I like to
work,
don't you, Mary Ann?”

Oh, no. He wasn't dragging her into this. “We never had sex, and you know it.”

“You were too busy nailing everyone else,” Riley snarled at him.

“Yeah, like your mom,” Tucker said.

“My mother is dead.”

There was a beat of silence. “Yeah, like your dad,” Tucker said without an ounce of remorse.

Actually, Riley's dad was dead, too. No reason to mention that aloud, allowing Tucker to come up with someone else he could have nailed. “You two are such…guys,” she said, standing.

“He's a guy.” Riley shrugged. “For the most part.”

Tucker's eyes narrowed. “What are you saying? The rest of me is a girl?”

“Hey.” Riley held up his hands, palms out, in a mimic
of Tucker's earlier profession of innocence. “I'm not the one who admitted to nailing a dude.”

“That was a lie, Fido. An insult to your parents that you're clearly too dumb to get.”

“Can we go now?” Mary Ann asked before they could fight. Again.

“Yes,” Riley said at the same time Tucker said, “What ever.”

Thankfully they traveled the fifteen miles to Dr. Daniel Smart's former residence without incident. She would have preferred to go alone, but hey. At five, she'd wanted a pony. She'd learned to live with disappointment.

No one answered the door after a bout of hard knocking from Riley, followed by an equally hard bout of knocking from Tucker, as if even that was a competition, but their little group of dysfunction didn't leave. They sat on the porch swing, Mary Ann the meat in a testosterone sandwich, and waited.

She'd checked the county records, and Dr. Smart's wife still owned this place. So, Tonya Smart hadn't changed the name on the deed, which most likely meant she hadn't remarried.

Maybe she'd rented it out, though. Maybe she wasn't here because she worked weekends. Maybe she would
take one look at Mary Ann and tell her to get lost. She definitely wouldn't want to answer questions akin to, “Was your husband a weirdo who could raise the dead?” But Mary Ann was going to try.

The sun shone brightly, clouds floating by and obscuring the golden rays every few minutes. Mist formed in front of her face every time she breathed. As she unrolled her shirtsleeves for added warmth, she asked, “How's Aden?” ashamed for not asking sooner. In her defense, he was the reason she was here.

“Recovering,” was all Riley said. “No thanks to Tuck.”

“Can you just let it go?” Tucker snapped. “I said I was sorry.”

“Absolutely I can let it go. The day you're dead.”

Mary Ann pinched the bridge of her nose, certain her head would explode by the end of the day. She had never wanted to become a referee, but that's what they had reduced her to. Next go-round, she was going to demand a paycheck!

After two hours of the back-and-forth insults, her headache was more of an enemy than the witches and the fairies, and she was very close to convincing herself Tonya Smart
couldn't
help her. Of course, that's when she
heard the purr of a car motor, the crunch of tires coming up the drive.

Mary Ann hopped to her feet. Her butt had fallen asleep, and the abrupt movement awakened it with a vengeance.

“Let me do the talking,” she told the boys.

“What are you going to say?” Tucker asked.

“Just watch and learn, demon,” Riley said. “She'll say the right thing, that's what.”

Tucker pouted. “You told him your plan, but didn't tell me?”

“No. He just trusts me. Now zip it.” She hadn't told either one of them because she hadn't yet figured out what angle to pursue. But this was crunch time. She had to figure it out
now.

Ms. Smart emerged from the vehicle. She was in her mid-fifties, with light brown hair, a trim form, her clothes neat and tidy. She was pretty in a motherly way, and at one time, she'd probably been beautiful.

She carried a sack of groceries and smiled warmly as she approached. Mary Ann wished she could see her eyes, but they were hidden behind sunglasses.

“Can I help you?”

She was human, Mary Ann thought, surprised her
mind now worked that way. Nowadays, the first time she met someone new, she immediately sized them up.

“Her aura is black,” Riley muttered, and he sounded confused.

What exactly did that mean? No time to ask. “Yes, you can help me. My name is Mary Ann. You're Tonya Smart, right?”

“Right,” she replied, just a bit hesitant now.

Finally. A break. “I'm just…well, my mother died the same day as your husband.” Was she really going there, right from the beginning? “In the same hospital.” Yep. She was. “She gave birth to me, and…that was it. The end.” How stupid did she sound?

Some of the warmth faded, wariness taking its place. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. I'm sorry for yours, as well.”

Ms. Smart nodded in acknowledgment, shifting the grocery sack to her other arm. Her gaze must have skidded over the boys, because the wariness became laced with fear. “Why are you telling me this? Why are you here?”

“We won't hurt you,” Mary Ann assured her. “The boys can leave if they bother you. In fact,” she said, glancing at them, “go. Now.”

Though Riley looked like he wanted to protest, he
reached out, grabbed Tucker by the shirt collar and dragged him away. They didn't go far, stopping under a large oak in the front yard.

“So which one are you dating?” Ms. Smart asked.

“Neither. The dark-haired one. Neither,” she added.

Smart laughed, relaxing once more. “Oh, to be young again.”

Mary Ann found herself studying the boys. Riley, with his dark hair and rough, fighter face, resembled a devil. Tucker, with his pale hair and innocent features, resembled an angel. Yet, personality-wise, the opposite was true.
Doesn't matter right now.

She returned her focus to the woman and cleared her throat. “One of my friends was born that same day in the same hospital. St. Mary's,” she added, in case Ms. Smart thought she was lying. Proof was in the details, after all. “He's looking for his parents.”

Confusion flittered across that aging face. “And you think my Daniel could be his father?”

“No, nothing like that. It's just, my friend…and me…we…can do…things. Weird things.” From the corner of her eye, she could see Riley fighting the urge to close the distance and sweep her away. She shouldn't be admitting this. To anyone. Especially not to a virtual stranger who might mention what she'd said to the
wrong people. People who could come after Mary Ann and Aden. There was no other way, however.

Besides, she'd done her homework. Daniel Smart had to be Julian. The pieces just fit. “I wondered if…”

“What?” Smart insisted.

“I wondered if Mr. Smart could do…weird things, too.”

A heavy pause, then, “Weird things. Like what?”

She couldn't say it. She just couldn't.

“Never mind,” Smart said a split second later, her voice cold. “I want you to leave. Don't come here again.”

“Please, Mrs. Smart. This is a matter of life and death.”

The older woman pounded up the stairs and skidded around Mary Ann. At the mention of
death
, however, she paused at the door. Without facing Mary Ann, she whispered, “Are you trying to…raise someone?”

Raise someone—from the dead. She knew. She really knew! Someone ignorant of what Julian could do would not have known to ask that kind of question. Mary Ann wanted to whoop. “No, no, I promise you. Nothing like that.” By sheer will alone, she managed to remain sedate. “I'm just trying to find the person who could…raise something. A person who died the same day I was
born. Someone who might have…passed that ability to someone else.”

If Daniel Smart
was
Julian, his last wish might have been to talk with this woman. Tossing out these half truths as she was, Mary Ann risked alienating her, but she couldn't just spill the entire truth, either. Not yet.

Silence. More of that dreadful silence.

Then, “My Daniel couldn't do what you're asking.”

“Oh.” She'd been so certain. Maybe…maybe Smart was lying. There simply wasn't another explanation for what Mary Ann had read.

“But his brother could,” the woman finished.

Okay. There
was
another explanation.

“He disappeared that night, too, and hasn't been heard from since. Now please. Leave. And remember what I told you. Don't come back here. You're not welcome.”

A
N HOUR LATER
, M
ARY
A
NN
found herself nestled inside The Wire Bean. The ridiculous name aside, she liked the place. The internet café was cozy, with plush couches and small round tables, as well as booths with multiple plug-ins right there on the side.

She pretended to sip a mocha latte—because actually drinking it would have made her sick. Human food was no longer hers to enjoy, only the magic and powers of others. Not that she was bitter. Except that she was freaking bitter!

Anyway.
The drink had been “paid for” by Tucker.

His version of “let me get this” was casting an illusion so that the girl at the register—who'd smiled and flirted with him and Riley to an annoying degree—thought she'd been handed a twenty when in reality, Tucker had handed her a nice helping of air.

Riley had voiced a complaint. Tucker had looked at him and said, “Really, Rover? You stole Mary Ann a laptop, and you question
my
methods? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“At least my victim isn't going to cry all night about losing the first ten pages of his book report.”

“Well, aren't you just the do-gooder,” the shifter sneered.

At one time—like, an hour ago—all of this bickering would have bothered her. Right now? Hardly a blip on her radar. She was busy.

Of course, then they'd argued about who got to sit next to her. Flattering, as well as insulting, since it was merely a pissing contest and not a true desire to be near her. Riley won. Barely. And only because he tripped Tucker and the boy fell face-first into the coffee-stained tile.

Now her shifter was leaning back, his arm stretched out behind her, and Tucker sat across from her, scowling at them. Mary Ann continued to pretend to sip and type, breathing in the delightful fumes while searching for answers about Daniel Smart's brother, Robert.

“You know,” Tucker said. “I'm actually a pretty good guy when it's just me and Mary Ann. You kind of harsh my mellow, Fido.”

“I'll pretend
that's
true.”

“It's true,” Mary Ann said without looking up from the screen. “Just like I negate Aden's abilities when I'm around him, I negate Tucker's evil.”

“I'd argue the word
evil,
” Tucker said.

“And you,” she went on, ignoring the demon, “negate my negating ability.”

“Poor Tucker,” Riley sneered. “Having to deal with being a bad boy.”

“And don't you care that I'm calling you by different dog names,
Max?
” Tucker said with an obvious sulk.

“No. And by the way, Max is my brother's name.”

“Wait.” Tucker leaned forward, lips twitching into a grin. “Your brother is a wolf-shifter and his name is Max?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So you do know that's, like, the most popular dog name of the year?”

“What are you, a statistical handbook?”

Frowning, Tucker ran a hand through his hair. “If you're not gonna react to insults the right way, I'm not sticking around. First I called you Fido. No reaction. Then I called you Max, and you corrected me. You're lame.” He slid from the booth. “I'll be outside. Smoking. Maybe drinking.”

“Don't stab anyone,” Riley said with a wave of his fingers.

His expression darkened. “Do you have anything to add to this conversation, Mary Ann?”

“That's great,” she said distractedly, having already tuned them out.

He pushed out a sigh. “Find me when you're done.”

“Sure, sure,” Riley assured him. Then flipped him off.

Tucker stomped out of the café, the bell chiming over the door.

“What a douche,” Riley muttered. “I'm going to kill him before this is over, you know that, right?”

“That's great.”

“And you'll be okay with that?”

“That's great.”

“You're not listening to a word I'm saying, either, are you?”

“That's great.” Seventeen years ago, people had not Facebooked or tweeted their every thought, so finding Robert Smart was a little more than difficult. But she was finally getting somewhere.

She found a news story about him, and that led to another, and another and still another. Each one had to do with Robert Smart's ability to locate dead bodies and
communicate with the dead. But none of them mentioned
raising
the dead. More than that, there was no mention of his death. So, she might be getting somewhere, but it wasn't doing her any good. Until—

Bingo! A story about his disappearance. Excitement rushed through her as she read the first few lines. He'd disappeared the same night his brother was killed. And…oh. Disappointment replaced her excitement. “His body was never found, and he never married,” she said. “He had no children, no relatives other than Daniel and Tonya.” Which meant talking to his family was out. Tonya was likely to call the police if she caught sight of Mary Ann again.

“That's great,” Riley said, mimicking her. Then, without taking a breath, he added, “But he could be out there talking to the witches or the fairies, you know.”

And if he had no family, what kind of last wish would he have had? Not to say goodbye to them, of course, as Mary Ann's mother had wanted to do with her. So, what had he wanted?

She needed to know. In order to leave Aden, Julian had to do what his human self regretted not doing. But the souls didn't remember their human lives until someone reminded them. Right now, she was the only one who could remind Julian.

“Mary Ann,” Riley prompted.

Maybe if she printed out his (previous) life story and read it to him? Maybe then he'd remember. Or, maybe it was time to switch gears and spy on Aden's parents. Yeah, maybe. The deed to their house belonged to Joe Stone. Paula, the mom, hadn't been mentioned. Were they still together? Separated?

“Mary Ann?”

“What?” Oh, yeah. Riley had said something. Robert, witches, fairies. “Of course he's not talking to the witches or the fairies. He's dead.”

A long, drawn-out sigh had warm, minty breath washing over her. “I meant Tucker.”

“Oh. Then go follow him. Kill him. Whatever.
Please.
I just need a few minutes of peace.”

A beat of stunned silence. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes. But for some reason, it's not working.”

Wonderfully calloused fingers settled on her chin and turned her face. “Mary Ann?” His eyes glittered with amusement.

“What?”

“You're sexy when you're focused.” With that, he leaned over and kissed her. Right there in front of everyone, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. He was
warm and wet and as delicious as she remembered. She'd never been one for public displays of affection, but she found herself leaning closer, wrapping her arms around him, sinking her hands in his hair.

He knew just how to move his tongue against hers. Just how to apply pressure, how to ease off, how to take her breath and give her his. And the warmth, she couldn't get enough. She pressed closer to him, so close she could feel tendrils of energy flowing into her mouth, down her throat and swirling inside her stomach.

She knew that sensation.

Panic infused her, and she wrenched away. They were both panting, but Riley was glazed with a sheen of perspiration. Her heart raced as she gasped out, “I was about to feed off you.”

“I know.” There was no upset in his tone, which surprised her.

“And you didn't pull away from me? You idiot!”

His lips quirked up at the corners. “I liked what we were doing.”

He was
amused? Idiot
was too kind a word for him. But, see? This was exactly why she'd run away from him. He didn't take his safety seriously.

Scowling at him, Mary Ann dragged her legs between them and pushed him. Right out of the booth.
He landed on his butt with a shocked
humph
. “Get out of here before I…before I…knee you in the balls!”

More quirking. He took his time standing up. “I'll find a witch. If you're hungry, you can—”

Her anger deflated. He was trying to take care of her. How could she stay mad at him? “I'm not.” And she wasn't. Not fully. Not yet.

“You know what happens when you let yourself go without…eating. Just let me—”

“No.” Yes, she knew what happened. She hurt. Worse than she'd ever hurt in her life. “I'm fine.” She didn't want him messing with the witches, possibly getting bespelled—although the impotency thing he'd mentioned to Tucker might do them both some good—and she certainly didn't want to be responsible for another death.

“The witches were going to hurt you. Now you can hurt them first.”

Technically that was true. She could hurt them. When her hunger reached the point of pain, she fed without thought or intent. Witches first, fairies second, but one day neither race would be enough. She'd crave the others. The vampires, the shifters. Even humans. But as she was now, only partially hungry, she would have to touch the witch to feed, and she just didn't want to get
that up close and personal if she didn't have to. For all the reasons she'd previously mentioned, but also because, well, she
liked
a few of them.

Two—Marie and Jennifer—could have killed her a dozen times. They hadn't. They'd talked to her, instead, and walked away. She kinda felt like she owed them.

“Go find Tucker before I decide
you'll
make a tasty snack,” she said. “Wait. First tell me what you meant about Tonya's aura being black.”

He frowned as he slid back into the booth. “Usually that means the person is going to die. But hers was an old black, kind of faded to a gray. I've seen that kind of aura a few times before, but usually on people who had somehow cheated death through magic or been cursed for a long, long time.”

Was that what would happen to Aden's aura, then? Slowly fade, maybe rot? “So her life was saved through magic? Or she was cursed? Which one?”

“I don't know. I didn't get a magical vibe off her.” He shrugged. “But that could just mean the curse is so much a part of her, like her lungs or her heart, that no one can sense it. Or it could mean that magic wasn't used.”

“So what you're telling me is that you have no freaking clue?”

“Correct. So what
you're
telling
me
is that you don't
want me to stay with you? Because after that tasty snack comment, I
want
you to—”

“Go, you nympho!”

Laughing, he stood and blew her a kiss, then stalked from the shop. Mary Ann forced her attention to return to her laptop. Her hands were shaking as she typed. And what do you know? She typed without thinking and ended up with a search on Aden's parents. Again. Maybe her subconscious was trying to tell her something.

Fine. She'd go with it. And another thing. Her next ward, she decided, was going to prevent boys from muddying up her thoughts and ruining her concentration. But somehow, she doubted even that could protect her from Riley's appeal.

 

A
DEN SURPRISED
V
ICTORIA
. Rather than walking into the throne room, where his “guests” awaited him, and demanding answers, rather than feeding himself, he first prepared himself for the possibility of battle. A task that caused several tension-filled hours to tick by, morning giving way to afternoon.

She listened to a one-sided conversation he had with Elijah and knew Aden was upset because the soul hadn't predicted this, and he hadn't prepared. She listened as he spoke with the councilmen, then Maddie, learning
what he could about the nine warriors awaiting him. She breathed a sigh of relief when he placed guards and lookouts in every room in the house as well as outside. She watched as he armed himself, looked away as he changed into a new T-shirt and jeans, and waited with him for the wolves, already tired from patrolling, to come in from the forest.

There was no time to think about their kiss and his anger over her lack of virginity, which was out of character for both past and present Aden. Did he suspect the boy's identity? Would he hate her when the suspicion was confirmed?

Okay, there was time to think about all of that, but she couldn't allow herself the luxury. She needed to focus, to be at her best. Just in case Aden wasn't. He still hadn't eaten, and she didn't know why.

Something else she didn't know—why he had stopped what he was doing, twice, to announce that he wasn't going to dance.

Now he marched along the scarlet rug, Victoria just behind him, wolves flanking him, and a handful of his strongest vampire warriors behind them. Vampire citizens lined the walls, watching him, forming a hallway that led straight to the throne room.

Victoria caught whispers like “just appeared,”
“trouble” and “war,” and each caused dread to work through her.

Whoever the warriors were, they could obviously teleport, since they had not stormed through the house but had “just appeared” in the throne room. And to appear somewhere, a teleporter had to have been there before. Which meant Vlad had once entertained the warriors.

As Aden approached the throne room, two of his sentries threw open the tall, arched doorways. Without a pause in his stride, the new and as-yet-uncrowned vampire king entered the room. Victoria expected more whispers, something, but the only thing to be heard was the thump of multiple pairs of boots and the scrape of wolf claws. Then Aden stopped, as did everyone behind him, and there wasn't even that. Just silence.

The newcomers—taller and stronger than Victoria had imagined, and she'd imagined
very
tall and
very
strong—formed a backward V. A war formation. Too many times to count, she'd seen her father act as the center of just such a V. It was a pose meant to intimidate, to show unity. A kind of “you mess with one, you mess with all” thing.