Almost Midnight

  Fredericka looked down at her paper. She’d spent two hours last night on her homework, making sure she hadn’t missed one question. No way in hell was she going to let him accuse her of not doing her work.

  “Here.” Della—a vampire and one of Kylie’s roommates—who sat behind her, handed up her homework along with the other three students’ behind her. Fredericka hesitated and then she purposely didn’t put hers in the stack when she passed them up.

  Only after Cary had collected all the papers in the front row and set them on his desk, did Fredericka raise her hand. “I’m sorry, I forgot to put mine in the stack.”

  She stood up, and then turned to Miranda, the student sitting in the next row. She held out her paper to the witch. “Oh, did I complete them all?” she asked as if worried.

  The witch leaned in.

  “Weren’t there twenty questions?” Fredericka asked.

  “Yeah,” Miranda nodded and glanced up from the paper.

  “Good,” Fredericka said and then moved up and in front of the entire class, she put her paper on top of the others.

  Cary stared at her, another flicker of anger bright in his eyes. His face even got a little red. He knew exactly what she was doing. Covering her ass. But she’d let him know. She didn’t give a damn what he knew, or how much it pissed him off, as long as he wasn’t able to tell any more lies about her.

  Forty minutes later, a bell rang announcing the end of class. Fredericka, her books already stacked, was the first to stand up.

  “Fredericka,” Cary said, over the bell. “I need to speak with you a second.”

  The temptation to just walk out hit her, and hit hard. But she knew he’d use it against her. Standing there, listening to the shuffle of students leaving, she was left to face him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Where were you running off to?” Cary asked Fredericka, as soon as the classroom door closed.

  She wanted to tell him to mind his own damn business, but that might add fuel to his fire. So instead she just lied. “Nowhere in particular.”

  “Then why don’t you stay and help me grade some papers?”

  She stiffened her shoulders. “Sorry, I’d rather not.”

  His eyes turned a lighter shade of blue. Disturbing blue. “You really don’t want to piss me off,” he said, his tone so threatening she almost flinched.

  “I’m not trying to piss you off, Cary. But what was almost between us is over. Let it go.”

  “It’s over when I say it’s over!” He took a step closer. “And you’re damn lucky I’m even interested. Do you think I don’t know that you were raised rogue?”

  “And you’re a prime example that even someone from a good background can grow up to be an asshole.” She turned and walked out. Not giving him the privilege of knowing he had the power to hurt her. But his words echoed in her head and landed with a thump on her heart; at times she questioned her own self-worth.

  * * *

  That hurt stayed with Fredericka until Brandon opened the door and met her with a smile. A smile that said welcome. That said he was happy to see her. A smile that said he didn’t judge her.

  And just like that, the heavy weight in her heart faded to almost nothing.

  “Come here,” he said.

  For a second she thought he was going to kiss her. And she would have let him, too.

  He caught her hand and led her into the gallery. “I want you to see my project. I woke up and couldn’t sleep, so I worked.” They walked through the first two rooms to the back door and then stepped outside.

  Fredericka’s breath caught at the site of the wolf sculpture on the patio. “That’s beautiful,” she told him and continued to admire how lifelike it looked. “Wow. Really beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  She looked at him. He wasn’t looking at his art, but at her.

  “Beautiful,” he said and inched closer. His arms slipped around her waist, and that’s when he kissed her.

  The kiss started out slow, a little sweet, but got hotter. As crazy as it was, she could almost feel his purr. His heart raced against her. His hand moved to the hem of her T-shirt and moved up to touch her waist. The feel of his fingers on her naked skin had her melting closer to him. Had her wanting …

  He pulled away and took in some quick fast breaths. “Sorry,” he said, looking at her, his eyes bright with passion.

  “For what?” she asked.

  “We should take it slow, right?”

  And it was a question. He waited for her answer. And she knew what he was really asking.

  A part of her wanted to tell him no. She wanted this. She wanted to feel the magic of it now and not wait. But wisdom said not to rush it.

  She nodded. “Slow’s good.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I promise to behave.”

  She grinned. “I’ll try to do the same.”

  He laughed. “So you’re having a hard time keeping your hands off me?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  He pulled her against him. “Good.” Passing a finger over her lips, he said, “I guess we should go paint.”

  “Yup,” she said and pulled out of his arms, even when staying there was so nice.

  They both stepped back inside. “Can you stay on a ladder this time?” he asked with a tease in his voice. “Or am I going to have to catch you again?”

  She grinned. “Maybe this time I’ll catch you.”

  “Oh, I’d like to see that,” he said.

  “You might be surprised,” she said, wondering and just a bit worried what he’d really think if he knew just how strong she was.

  They were almost in the kitchen when the chimes started. They seemed to notice at the same time, because both of their smiles faded at the same instant.

  “Told you,” he said.

  Fredericka listened. The sound wasn’t so sad this time. It was almost … almost romantic.

  Was his sister watching?

  Looking over her shoulder at the chimes, relief struck when she didn’t see her there. When she looked back at Brandon she recalled her need to help the spirit pass over. Holiday had said that oftentimes, if a person was murdered, they stayed here to get justice against the person who’d killed them.

  Brandon walked into the garage to collect the paint that must have been delivered that morning.

  “Have you told the police that you think this old boyfriend could have hurt her?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Why do you think he came over the other day? He was outraged that I told the police that he could be responsible for her being missing.”

  “Why do you think he would have hurt her?” she asked, grabbing one of the ladders and following Brandon outside.

  He set his ladder down beside the porch. “Because two days before she went missing she told me that they’d had a bad argument and that she was going to break up with him. She even told me that she was … kind of afraid of him.”

  He passed a hand over his face as if to wipe away his frustration. “I got upset and told her she sucked at picking boyfriends. I told her it was because she had daddy issues. And while I was telling the truth, it hurts that my last conversation with her was me criticizing her.”

  Fredericka put her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll bet she knows you just got upset because you were concerned.”

  “I hope so,” he said.

  They spent the next two hours painting, working side by side. They talked about art and their plans for the gallery. He asked her to send some photographs of her pieces so he could start posting things online and hopefully drum up some business. She found herself getting excited about the prospect of selling some of her work.

  Around five, when the sun was slowly sinking behind the western sky, she finished off one last section and told him she’d better start packing up her things. She got ready to go wash her brush.

  “Why don’t I take you out for dinner?” he asked. “It’s the least I can do for you helping me.”


  She wanted to say yes so badly, but her gut said she needed to get back to Shadow Falls and see just what crap Cary had set out for her this time. She moved into the garage where she’d seen a sink, a perfect place to wash out the brush. He followed her.

  “How about a rain check? Maybe Friday evening?” she offered, knowing Thursday was the full moon and she really shouldn’t be seeing him again until afterward, especially when temptation was present.

  “Then it’s a date,” he said.

  “Great.”

  “What about tomorrow?” he asked. “Can you come by and help me plant the flowers?”

  She hesitated, knowing she shouldn’t, but damn it, she didn’t want to go two whole days without seeing him. It was only when she was with him that she felt happy.

  “Sure,” she said.

  “You don’t have to,” he said as if he’d noted her pause.

  “I want to,” she said as she turned on the faucet and stuck the brush under the stream of water. “I won’t be able to come by on Thursday, though. I have to … study for a big test.”

  “I could always help you study,” he said and moved in close. His hip brushed against hers as he held his brush under the water as well.

  She felt the tingle of his touch. She dropped her brush and faced him. Leaning in, she lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him. His brush dropped to the bottom of the sink with a slight thud.

  His arms came around her and she held on. After several long seconds, and before she wanted to, she pulled away. “If I came here to study, I’m afraid I wouldn’t remember a thing, but … how blue your eyes are, or how your smile is just the slightest bit crooked, or how good your lips feel on mine.”

  He smiled. “You’re probably right.” He pressed a finger over her lips. “But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Yeah,” she said. “As long as the creek doesn’t rise.” Or Cary doesn’t do something to prevent me from coming.

  * * *

  As she drove away, Brandon stood on the porch waving. But as she pulled past the house, her gaze automatically shifted to the side of the house where she’d seen his sister twice.

  Her breath caught when she saw her there again, kneeling at the flower bed. In her rearview mirror, she saw Brandon move inside. She drove away slowly, remembering Holiday’s advice.

  You need to talk to her. When you see her next time, approach her. Ask her if she remembers what happened to her.

  But holy hell, Fredericka didn’t want to do that. Nope, not even a little bit.

  Then she remembered Brandon talking about his sister. How he wanted to find out what happened. Fredericka owed it to him to do this.

  She pulled over and parked. Getting out of her car, she walked down the street. Linda still kneeled at the flower bed. The closer she got, the colder it got. Chills crawled up Fredericka’s spine.

  Stopping about five feet from the spirit, Fredericka forced herself to speak.

  “Linda?”

  When she didn’t answer, Fredericka spoke again. “I just want to help.”

  The woman shifted back just a bit. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” she asked, then she slowly looked over her shoulder.

  Half the woman’s face was beaten to a pulp, her eye dangled out of the socket.

  Fredericka screamed. When she went to step back, she tripped over her own feet.

  She landed on her ass, and was still screaming, butt-scooting backward, when Brandon came running over.

  “What happened?”

  Panic still gripped Fredericka. She glanced back at his sister, but the woman was gone.

  “I … I…” If she told him the truth, he’d think she was nuts. “I dropped my phone and I … saw a bug.”

  “A bug?” He held out his hand.

  She got up without his assistance.

  He looked puzzled. Disbelief brightened his eyes. “You don’t seem the type to be afraid of a bug.”

  She searched her mind for something more credible, but nope, nothing came, so she stuck with it.

  “It was big,” she snapped. “I … gotta go.” She took off.

  He called her name, but she ignored him. When she drove off she saw him standing in the same spot, staring as if … as if he didn’t buy her bug excuse.

  And right beside him was his sister, waving good-bye, her eye still dangling against her cheek and the front of her sundress stained in blood.

  As disturbing as that was, more disturbing was the fact that as she went to turn off Main Street, she recognized the car behind her.

  Cary.

  Chapter Twelve

  After tossing and turning most of the night, Fredericka jolted awake an hour late, Wednesday morning. “Crap!” Bolting out of bed, she realized class had already started. She went to her closet and gathered her clean clothes.

  She’d spoken with Holiday when she’d gotten home yesterday and told her that now Brandon’s sister knew she was dead.

  Holiday had given her some pointers on how to encourage the spirit to open up. Just talk to her, don’t freak out.

  Right! How could one stand there and have a discussion with someone whose eye was dangling out of their socket and not freak?

  As a matter of fact, it had been Holiday’s warning that the spirit may come to see Fredericka, versus Fredericka having to go see her that had caused Fredericka’s sleepless night.

  Seriously, who could sleep knowing a dead person could just pop in? Well, Fredericka had finally cratered, after about four hours.

  Of course, also keeping her awake had been Cary. He hadn’t followed her all the way back to the camp last night. No, he was smarter than that, because someone might have seen him and had she chosen to tell Holiday about his obvious stalking, then the camp leader might have believed her.

  Finally dressed, she ran a brush through her hair.

  Between Cary’s ire, and the trouble he was causing, and ghosts, you’d think she might just throw in the towel and stop seeing Brandon. But nope. And it wasn’t just about the position at the gallery, either. Or because she was too damn stubborn. Though that was part of it.

  But it was mostly … him. How just being with him made her smile. How with him, she didn’t feel so … damaged.

  She felt … beautiful. Feminine. And happy.

  She glanced at herself in the mirror, noting she even looked happier.

  Which meant this afternoon, she’d go back to Brandon’s and … well, try to look a ghost in the eyes. She’d try to help him find the answers he needed.

  Holiday’s words echoed in Fredericka’s head. Linda Hart needs to cross over. Usually they stay here for a reason. And her brother needs answers. Everyone needs answers.

  Did Fredericka need them?

  Pushing that from her mind, because it hurt too much to think about, she slipped on her boots and went back to thinking about this afternoon. Spending time with Brandon.

  She’d be extra careful when she left, just to make sure Cary didn’t follow her.

  Somehow she was going to have to warn Brandon, too. Not that she really believed Cary would hurt him. Everyone knew that messing with humans could get you in a world of trouble with the Were Council. Cary might be an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid enough to risk his job and way of life just to get even with her. At least she hoped not.

  God, she really hoped not.

  Looking at the clock, she just dropped back down on her bed. No use interrupting math class when she’d only attend a few minutes.

  She tried to relax for a few minutes and then headed out to attend her second-period class. After English she had lunch, and then, ready to face Cary, or at least telling herself she was, she went to her history class. The second she walked in, he met her eyes, and she got a sense he had something else up his sleeve. There was just something cocky about his smile.

  Fifteen minutes later, she’d almost convinced herself that she’d simply imagined it. But then Burnett James, Holiday’s vampire husband, half-owner of the school, and an agent for the Fallen
Research Unit—basically the FBI for supernaturals—walked into the class. While everyone here considered the man fair, he had the presence of a hungry pit bull in a meat market.

  His gaze shifted around the room and came to rest on Fredericka. And it wasn’t a restful gaze, like a simple hello. Her gut tightened and her instincts said the shit had just hit the fan.

  Mr. James spoke to Cary, and then motioned for Fredericka to come with him. Picking up her books, fighting the urge to start screaming: I didn’t do it, she followed Burnett through the door. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that cocky smile touch Cary’s lips again. Fury rose up in her chest.

  What the hell had he done this time?

  * * *

  Fredericka sat across the desk in Holiday’s office, staring at the evidence placed before her. Supposedly, Miranda, Kylie’s roommate, had found it pinned to their cabin door after lunch.

  “I didn’t do it,” Fredericka said, looking down at the picture of Kylie Galen with a doodle of a knife drawn through her chest, the word DIE written across the front. The edges of the photograph were burnt as if someone had used a torch. Probably her torch, too.

  On Fredericka’s lips were the words: Cary did it. But she didn’t say them. Why waste her breath? They wouldn’t believe her. Not without proof.

  And she didn’t have any.

  “The edges look as if someone used a torch,” Burnett said. “Has anyone had access to your shop but you?” His head tilted to one side as if to hear her heartbeat.

  “Not that I know of,” she said and she didn’t look at him because … because she didn’t want to see disbelief in his eyes. Oh, he would know she was telling the truth, but everyone knew that some people just excelled at lying. He probably thought she was one of them. Why not? She was the daughter of a rogue, after all.

  Oh, she could remind Holiday that she’d lost a key, and anyone could have gotten in there. She could tell her about her realization that she and Cary were through, and that he was having a hard time accepting it. But again, what did that prove?