I shook my head. I was graduating next week. I was so not thinking about weddings. What the heck was wrong with me? Maybe back in fourth grade Yuki had been right; boy cooties really do melt your brain.
I lifted my chin and strode to the door. I knocked, hard, using the code we’d established for pack emergencies. Yuki may be human, but according to Cal, she was a member of his pack and she was in trouble. Hopefully he wouldn’t fault my logic.
We’d come up with the coded knocks in case someone was busy kissing inside. A regular knock could be ignored, but a pack knock was more important than making out.
The door swung open exposing Cal’s flushed face. I glanced into the small room behind him, but he was alone. Good. For once, I was in luck.
“Can I come in?” I asked.
“Sure, sorry, come on in,” Cal said.
I walked over to the couch and sat, waiting for Cal. He ran a hand through shaggy hair as he shut the door. With a heavy sigh, he turned to face me. Worry lines etched the skin around his eyes and his mouth, usually so quick to smile, was set in a grim line.
“You used the pack 911 knock,” he said. “What’s happened?”
“Come over and sit down,” I said.
“I’d rather stand,” he said.
He paced the short length of the room, the hem of his jeans collecting dust as his bare feet stirred up a small cloud of dirt and animal hair. You could tell werewolf boys lived here.
I stopped watching Cal’s feet and met his worried eyes with my own.
“It’s Yuki,” I said. “I think she’s in trouble.”
The color drained from Cal’s tanned face, like pouring too much soy milk into coffee.
“On second thought,” he said. “I’ll sit.”
Chapter 14
Calvin
I couldn’t believe what Emma was telling me, and yet the evidence had been there all along. How could I have been so blind?
“If you don’t blink soon, I’m force feeding you one of my teas,” Emma said.
That snapped me out of my funk. Emma’s herbal teas and tinctures may help heal wounds, but they tasted awful. I wouldn’t risk drinking one unless suffering from a serious injury.
Too bad she didn’t have a tea for healing a broken heart.
I thought I’d been a good boyfriend, but now I was beginning to wonder. How could I have been so unaware of what Yuki was going through?
I should have known it would be terrifying to walk that hallway every day to class. I could have offered to walk her past the supply closet door, so she didn’t have to endure the fear alone. I would have changed my class schedule to be there for her. But I hadn’t been there for her, hadn’t even noticed that something was wrong.
Should have, could have, would have—never helped anyone at all. I was slipping back into a depressed stupor, focusing on the past, but Yuki needed me now. We had to figure out how to help her before things got any worse.
I rubbed my face briskly.
“What do you propose we do?” I asked.
Emma would have a plan, she always had a plan. She probably went to the library and spent hours doing research before coming here. She’d know what to do.
“I have no idea,” she said.
My stomach twisted and depression was replaced by fear.
“You said she has classic PTSD symptoms,” I said. “Did you read that in a book?”
“Yes, and a medical journal,” she said.
The claws in my gut stopped their twisting. Emma may be dating my roommate, but she hadn’t changed one bit. For some reason, that gave me hope.
“Okay, so we need to find out what those books recommend we do to help a person with PTSD,” I said. “Do you remember anything?”
“They said to let the person know that they can talk about the traumatic event, and to help them get professional counseling,” she said. “Talking is important.”
Emma explained the symptoms of PTSD and the need for discussing the traumatic event and rebuilding trust.
“Good, I’ll go over there now,” I said. I stood, grabbing my keys. “I’ll try to get Yuki talking about what happened to her.”
“What should I do?” Emma asked.
Emma bit her lip and her hands fidgeted with a long strand of hair. I was glad that Emma was worried about Yuki. They may be fighting, but at least Emma still cared.
“I’ll call you later,” I said. “Hopefully, by the time I call, everything will have sorted itself out. I’m sure Yuki will agree to counseling once she realizes just how serious this is.”
I sounded more confident than I felt. Yuki was stubborn, and even I’d noticed her flashes of anger lately. I’d chalked them up to graduation jitters, but now that I knew how common angry outbursts were for people with PTSD, I worried about how badly Yuki’s fear was eating her up inside. Would she agree to counseling, or lash out?
“Okay, I’m having dinner with Simon later, but call any time,” she said. “I’ll keep my ringer on. And Cal? Don’t hesitate to call for backup. I know how Yuki can get when she’s upset. Sometimes she just needs a hot bath and a good cry.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Emma nodded once and walked out the door.
I grabbed my shoes and started pulling them on, rushing to tie the laces. The door creaked open again and I looked up to see Simon lope in.
He’d been for a run. His hands and feet were caked with mud and small pieces of grass and leaves clung to his hair.
“Hey, I’m on my way out,” I said. “I need to go see Yuki, but, man, you may want to try talking to Emma later. She seems really worried.”
“Maybe you should focus on your own love life before giving other people advice,” he said.
Simon ground the words through clenched teeth while his wolf danced behind his eyes. It may not be the full moon, but strong emotions could bring our wolves to the surface. But Simon usually had more control. It would take more than an off the cuff remark to force Simon’s wolf to the surface.
Something else must be preying on his mind. Best diffuse the situation by apologizing. I didn’t have time for a fight with Simon. I needed to go see Yuki.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m worried about Yuki.”
“You should be worried, mate,” he said.
Simon looked me straight in the eye, something most werewolves don’t do now that I am alpha. He was serious.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“I know how you and Yuki disapprove of my relationship with Emma,” he said. “You say it’s because I’m older. There may be an age gap between us, but at least I’m not holding her back.”
My mouth went dry and my stomach twisted as the bottom fell out of my happy little world. Was I really holding Yuki back? Would she be better off without me?
Before Emma’s revelation, I wouldn’t have believed it. I would have told Simon to go cool off. But pieces of the puzzle were falling together and it was all happening so fast. It was like being trapped inside an expert level of Tetris.
The sky was falling and I had no idea where to run, or how to protect the one I love.
Chapter 15
Yuki
I angled my bike toward the park, enjoying the way the afternoon sun’s rays cut through the planted trees lining the path. The golden glow reminded me of contented ghosts. I smiled and pedaled faster.
I hoped to find a nice outdoor location for my painting. Cal loved nature and the outdoors. But I wasn’t a big fan of traipsing through thick woods—mosquitoes, black flies, and spiders, oh my!—so I chose the park.
Of course, Wakefield Park was huge. I came to a halt just inside the park entrance. A duck pond surrounded by benches lay to my right, trails branched off to my left, and a series of sports fields and tennis courts lay just beyond the small amphitheater on the path straight ahead.
I was going to hurry to the benches around the duck pond, but the heady scent of roses filled my head. I swayed on my feet, strugglin
g to keep my bicycle upright. I looked around, ignoring the spinning in my head, but there were no rose bushes in sight.
An aching pressure grew beneath my temples and I winced. This was no ordinary scent. A ghost lingered in this park and I was sensing the smell impression that their spirit had left behind.
The smell impression was complicated, rose fragrance mixed with two other scents. But the smell of roses was definitely the strongest and most easily identifiable.
A second scent reminded me of a sweater my mom made for me when she was going through her knitting phase. The sweater hung lower on one side and the collar was really too small for my head to fit through, but it was wearable. I grinned at the memory.
My mom was always trying some new hobby to fill her one day off each week. Don’t even get me started on her glue-gun phase—that was a total nightmare. The knitting wasn’t too terrible, but the yarn she used for that sweater was some kind of natural handspun, hand dyed wool that smelled funny. I worried that it made me smell like wet dog, though I guess it really was more like oily sheep.
That’s right. Mom said the smell was from lanolin, natural oil found on sheep wool. I was definitely sensing a ghost and it smelled like roses and lanolin…and something else.
The third smell was harder to place. I closed my eyes and used a yoga breathing Cal had taught me, and the focusing techniques Simon had drilled into my head, to center my thoughts on the smell impression. Bird song faded as everything dropped away, leaving only the ghost and its complicated smell.
An acrid chemical smell itched at my nose. It had a slight vinegar-like odor, but it definitely wasn’t the pure vinegar scent of Jackson’s ghost. The third scent may not be Jackson, but the smell was familiar. I spread out my awareness, trying to take in more of the smell impression.
I was like a sommelier at a wine tasting, breathing in the psychic sent and rolling it along the tongue. If I let my concentration slip and thought about how gross it was to have a ghost in my mouth, I’d probably vomit. This part of working with ghosts was totally gag-worthy.
But I was getting better at it.
My mad ghost smelling skills finally unearthed the mystery scent. The chemical smell with a slight vinegar tang reminded me of the school darkroom. I had been in there often enough with Emma and Gordy to recognize the smell, but couldn’t be sure if it indicated developer or stop bath chemicals. Either way, I now knew more than I did before.
This ghost had some connection to photography. Interesting.
“Hey, Rose,” I whispered. The ghost smelled mostly of roses, so Rose it is. Well, until I find out what its real name was. “Do you need help?”
Stupid question. My head filled with the cloying scent of roses and I wretched. Of course it needed help. It was a ghost.
I gripped the handlebars of my bike with sweating hands and pushed down the urge to hurl. Okay, Yuki. Just figure out what the smelly ghost wants. Then it’s painting time.
“Um, can you back off just a little?” I asked. “I can’t help you if I pass out.”
The weight on my lungs lifted and clean air rushed in. I opened my eyes to see a golden shimmer hovering above a trail to my left. There you are.
“Okay, I’ll try to follow you,” I said.
The glow brightened and the smell increased. Apparently, that was exactly what the spirit wanted to hear.
My boots found their way onto the pedals again and I started down the shadowed hiking path, leaving the duck pond behind.
Chapter 16
Simon
“Back off,” Calvin growled.
“Is that an order?” I asked.
I could feel my lip curl as my wolf gnashed its teeth. Over the past few weeks, I had watched Emma become more and more upset as her friends betrayed her, as my alpha betrayed me, with their harsh disapproval.
Yuki and Calvin were supposedly the perfect bloody couple who no one else could possibly equal, until now. Well they set the bar too sodding high now didn’t they? The two soul mates who had been judgmental of our relationship from the start had their own issues. Yuki was suffering and Calvin, who claimed to be so in tune with her feelings, had no idea.
I had been struggling with my feelings for weeks and now I had an outlet for my bottled up anger. I was itching for a fight.
“No,” Calvin said, shaking his head. “No it’s not an order. I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight you.”
If he wouldn’t fight, then I had to run. I needed to feel the wind on my face…and blood on my muzzle.
I stalked away, nearly taking the door off its hinges in my rush to get outdoors and unleash my wolf. I shifted in a flash of silver fur, bones aching as I hurried the transformation. I ran into the woods, away from Calvin, away from Yuki, and away from the reminders of my tormented past.
Spittle formed at my mouth and flew behind me as the wind hit my face. I raced through the forest, dodging trees and boulders at deadly speed. I should slow down. Braining myself on a rock or tree wouldn’t do me any good, but my wolf spirit wanted to run and I was too upset to wrestle him back into submission.
No, my wolf wasn’t who I wanted to fight. I grinned, the air cool on my exposed teeth. I wouldn’t attack Calvin, of course, but I was in no shape for my dinner date with Emma. She already drove me crazy—her wry smile, her hair, her smell—there was no way that I could meet her like this. I was going to have to blow off some steam.
I needed to hunt.
I caught the scent of a white-tailed deer and pushed myself to run faster. I grinned so widely that all now all of my teeth were exposed to the wind. All the better to eat you with my deer.
Emma would kill me if she found out about my pre-dinner snack. She didn’t approve of killing animals for food and wouldn’t appreciate the thrill of the hunt that already pushed adrenaline through my veins.
I slowed, grin faltering, but shook my head. Sod it. A man has needs, right?
I licked my lips and nose and continued my pursuit.
Chapter 17
Calvin
Simon’s angry words continued to ring in my ears. She’s better off without you, mate.
I needed to go to Yuki and confront her about Emma’s fears. I had to know if she was okay. But did I really have the right to dredge up that nightmare moment from her past? Was I the best person for the job? Or was I, as Simon stated, holding her back?
I thought that I was good for Yuki, and her for me, but had I been the only one to reap the benefits?
I tried to look at my relationship with Yuki objectively. She’d been placed in the face of danger more than once because of me. When I couldn’t control my wolf, I came close to tearing Yuki and Emma apart. Later, when a deranged werewolf began hunting his own kind, Yuki again got caught in the cross-fire. And when she was in a horrible accident, I did nothing to help.
Sure, I lent her my support and love, but that wasn’t enough. Maybe, it never would be.
I sighed and shook my head. Sulking and worrying over Simon’s words wasn’t helping Yuki. I pulled out my phone and hit speed dial, needing to hear her voice. But the call went to voicemail.
That was strange. Yuki almost always had her cell on, even in class. With her parents working late, it would be foolish not to keep her phone with her. She was alone in that old house. What if she fell down the stairs or slipped on the bathroom floor?
Worry stabbed my chest and made my blood run cold. I grabbed my keys and ran to my truck.
Chapter 18
Yuki
My teeth clacked together as I rode my bike over a large tree root. It was dumb luck that I didn’t go flying over the handlebars. I slowed, letting my boots drag across the gravel path overgrown with weeds and grass.
The shimmering form of Rose, the fragrant ghost I was following, continued to flit over the trail at breakneck speed. Good for the impatient ghost, but not so good for those of us who still had physical bodies that could be injured.
“Wait up!” I yelled.
The g
host came to a halt, but bounced up and down in what I imagined was big time agitation. Jeesh, ghosts are all the same. They discover that I can sense them and then they’re all, me, me, me.
I brushed an arm across my forehead, wiping away beads of sweat that were starting to run into my eyes. Great, now I was all sweaty and gross. I looked down at my sleeve. The once black fabric was now covered in a pasty mixture of white face powder and perspiration.
“I could so go for a bubble bath right now,” I muttered.
Instead I puffed out a sigh, blowing black bangs out of my face, and started pedaling again up the trail. I had to struggle to keep up with my ghost trail guide who took off as soon as I started moving. Its golden glow disappeared around a corner and I had to stand on the pedals to pick up more speed.
“So much for waiting for me,” I grumbled.
I had no idea how far these trails went on for. We had already left the familiar open grassy areas and easy foot paths of the park behind. Gnarled old trees marched closer to the trail, leaving a narrow track just large enough for two people to run abreast. With my overburdened bicycle laden with easel, paints, and enough food for an army, I hoped that I wouldn’t meet anyone else on the trail. Though in this heat, that probably wasn’t likely.
So far, I hadn’t seen a living soul.
Pedaling fast to catch up to my spectral guide, I gulped in air and coughed as I swallowed a bug. Yep, my psychic gift royally sucked.
Eyes watering, I careened around the corner and nearly ran into a boulder. Stones littered the ground—some covered in moss while others lay bare, bleached by the sun like old bones.
The ghost was hovering a few yards away beside a high stone wall. The wall was old and crumbling in places. Perhaps the remnants of a Victorian garden in decay. It was my kind of place.