Sisters Red (22 page)

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SCARLETT

I WALK FOR MILES AIMLESSLY. I CAN LIVE UP TO MY
responsibilities. This isn't a pointless game. Silas is wrong. Thunder crackles overhead.

I turn down an alley that I think leads to a sketchy row of projects and beaten-up basketball courts. A rough-looking school stands on the corner, looking defeated by neighborhood crime. My mind is so tightly wound that I feel as if it might explode from pressure. Wolves hang around schools sometimes. It's worth a shot.

I slink around the school gates just as the first drops of rain fall, and by the time I'm next to the crumbly building, it's a full-blown storm.

School must be out--the parking lot is empty, save one beat-up brown station wagon parked near a row of thick

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hedges. There's an older, heavily bearded man in it, and he motions an unseen person toward the passenger-side door. I creep closer and peer around the corner to see whom he's calling for. It's a middle school-aged girl, clutching her books to her chest nervously underneath a plaid umbrella.

"I just need directions!" the man calls out, something of a chuckle in his voice. The girl shakes her head and takes a step away from his car, putting several yards between them.
Good girl,
I think to myself. I sprint from the edge of the school to the hedges, ignoring the rainwater in my eye. The man calls for her again.

"Look, I don't drive. I can't give good directions. Wait till my mom gets here--she'll know," the girl calls back. The man nods and puts the car in park, then gets out, his steps slow and deliberate. The girl's face blanches, and she frantically tries to open the massive double doors of the school, but they're locked. The familiar rush of adrenaline sweeps through me, the love of the hunt, the love of my purpose. The man strides toward her, hands in his pockets and a dark glare in his eyes.

In one swift motion, I leap toward them and flip my hatchet in my hand. I dash behind the man and raise the blade of my weapon to his throat, snickering at the man's surprise. He fumbles to turn around and face me.
Transform, monster. You can be my second successful hunt.

"Hey now, missy," he croaks at me, taking a step back. Behind him, the girl seems frozen with fear and confusion.

"Hey now, wolf," I whisper back. He looks at me for

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a long time, then darts to my left. I'm faster--I swing the hatchet around and let it slice into his arm, leaving a deep crimson red line. The man screams and grasps the wound, dropping to his knees.

"You bitch," he snarls at me, voice echoing off the school and through the sheets of rain. I step closer and raise my hatchet.
Transform. Fight me.

The man's face goes as pale as his would-be victim's. He raises his hands up in protest.

"Look, I didn't mean nothing. I'm sorry. I'll leave her alone," he pleads.

Fenris don't beg. I let my eye run down his age-spotted arms and to his wrists.

They're bare. No tattoos, no pack marks. Only a scattering of freckles.

I furrow my eyebrows and lower my hatchet to my side. The man quivers, blood from his wound seeping through his fingers. I look back up at the girl, who is regarding me with a sort of terrified appreciation.

I was wrong. He's just a man, a dark man, a monster but not a wolf. I'm really losing it.

"Go," I whisper, taking a step away from him. The man leaps up and runs to his car, peeling out of the parking lot in a hiss of tires on wet asphalt.

I stand still, letting water run down my clothes and off my hatchet. I was wrong.

I can't do this alone. I need my sister. I need my partner--I just got him back; I can't let him disappear again.

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And--I sigh and close my eye--I need them for more than just hunting.

I turn and look at the girl, who is still pressed against the school doors.

"Are you okay?" I ask the girl.

She nods. "Who are you?" she asks, tiny voice barely audible over the storm.

I don't answer. I turn and trudge back through the bushes and around the school.

I can't do this alone--I can't do anything without Rosie and Silas. But I have to get them to focus. I have to keep them from abandoning the hunt.

From abandoning
me
.

When I return to the apartment, Rosie is sitting at the dining table, towel wrapped around her head. The shower is on, indicating where Silas is. I glance across the room--Screwtape is soaked, licking at his fur indignantly by our bed.

"What happened to you?" I ask flatly. I strip off my clothing and leave it in a wet pile outside our bedroom.

"Screwtape got out," Rosie explains. There's something in her voice, a singsong tone that sounds a little like the voice of some animated princess. I raise an eyebrow at her, but she doesn't look up from the book she's leafing through. I nod and pull on a dry T-shirt and jeans.

"I've already looked through that one. Twice," I tell her.

"Sorry. Just trying to help," Rosie says, closing the book.

"I know." I'm trying to lose the bitter edge to my voice,

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but it's hard--the frustration at Silas still bubbles beneath my surface.

"Think of anything new?" I ask my sister, sitting down beside her at the table.

"No. We might as well be back to square one," Rosie says with a small sigh. She tosses the book onto the floor and doesn't reach for another. "Silas says he's going to visit Pa Reynolds. I'll stay and research with you, though," she says. Rosie props up her legs on a stack of books in front of her, and I see that her calves are slathered in pink calamine lotion.

"What's all that for?" I ask.

Rosie shrugs. "Apparently when we were chasing Screwtape I ran through a patch of poison ivy. I think I washed it off and put the calamine on in time, though."

"I hope so," I say, peering at her flawless skin. "Poison ivy sucks. Remember when we got it when we were little?"

"No," Rosie corrects me. "You got it first, and then I got it later. I remember that you accidentally rolled around in it when we were playing, and your face got all swollen. But--you know how I got it, like... a week later?"

I nod.

"I did it on purpose. I went out and rolled around in that same patch of poison ivy."

"What are you, stupid?" I ask, laughing.

Rosie shakes her head. "Mom let you sleep in her bed. And then I had to sleep in our bedroom all by myself, and I was lonely."

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"So you rolled in poison ivy?"

"I just was so jealous of you. And I would've done anything to be like you, even something stupid..." She trails off.

Silas interrupts us by stepping out of the bathroom, wrinkled clothes sticking to his still-damp skin. He ignores me and begins rifling through his suitcase until he pulls a pair of socks from the mound of clothes. I notice he's got calamine lotion on his forearms.

"Rosie said you're visiting Pa Reynolds?" I ask. The words are a peace offering, in a way.

"Yep. I've gone only once since we've been here," Silas says, tossing his wet towel over the back of a chair. "I'll be back around eight or nine, I guess. We're hunting tonight?"

I nod. "We can leave without you if you want, though. You can always catch up to us and start hunting later." Another peace offering, but one I have to force from my lips.

Silas looks impressed, and I think I see something like guilt flicker across his eyes. He glances at Rosie, then back at me with an apologetic smile. "That sounds good, Lett."

Silas slides his shoes on and rustles his fingers in his hair, gives Rosie and me a quick wave, and leaves. He's still mad, at least a little. It's always taken Silas a while to cool down. But I need him, I need Rosie. I don't want to be alone. I hesitate, then hurry after him. He's on the second flight of the stairwell when I reach the door.

"I can go with you, if you want?" I offer.

Silas looks up at me, and a sad sort of smile tugs at his lips. "It's okay. We can go another time together."

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"Okay," I answer, but he doesn't move. I look down. "You
are
coming back, right?"

Silas looks surprised. "Just because you're a pain in the ass doesn't mean I'd abandon you," he says. "Besides, Lett--where else do I have to go?"

I exhale. "Right." Silas continues down the staircase and I turn to go back inside. He needs us, and I need them.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Rosie

Scarlett is at city hall because, as it turns out
, figuring out who in an entire region is turning a multiple of seven is pretty complex. Silas and I are supposed to be reading the newspapers, which are still headlining the murder spree, looking for the tiniest clue as to the wolves' plans.

But that really just isn't happening.

"We're supposed to be researching," I say through laughter. Silas grins and runs his fingers up my side again, dissolving me into another fit of giggles. The notepad that I'd been writing on topples to the floor beside the couch. He wraps his arm around me and urges me closer to him. Our lips find each other's and I'm curled in his lap, hands around his shoulders. The smells of oak and forest fill my lungs, as though he's breathing them into me as we kiss. I push closer

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against him until he circles his arms around me and hugs me to his chest. It feels natural, right, as if the change in our relationship was as simple as sliding into new clothes.

We pull away, both flushed, grinning like crazy people. "Okay. Now we focus. Werewolf birthdays," Silas says with fake intensity.

We turn back to our mostly empty notepads for a moment, but Silas's hand creeps over and pokes me in the side again, and I dissolve in hysterics. Our day of research is pretty hopeless. In fact, the last four days of research have been hopeless.

The light in the storm of Fenris researching and empty-handed hunting attempts? Silas. My heart still jumps out of my chest when we're alone together, but at least now I know that if I put my arms around him, the world won't end and he'll put his arms around me too. It gives me the same sense of normalcy, the same rightness, that taking lessons at the community center does, only magnified a thousand times.

It's been almost four weeks. Four weeks of taking community center courses, four weeks of the Potential's moon phase, four weeks away from Ellison. Almost a whole month in love with Silas.

"You could sign up for more," Silas says when I tell him today is the last day of classes.

I shake my head. "No... I can't keep lying to Scarlett. Either I tell her I'm taking them, or I quit."

"I'm sort of relieved to hear that, actually," Silas says,

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running his fingers through my hair. "Scarlett somehow makes me feel guilty without even knowing about..." He pauses and runs a hand down my cheek. "Classes. So which will you do? Tell her or quit?"

I sigh. "I don't know. I probably shouldn't do either until the Potential hunt is over."

"Fair." Silas nods. "Or we could just... you know, find the Potential."

"Yeah, good luck," I murmur. I sigh and stand. "I should go take my class. If you wait until too late in the day, there aren't any good ones left."

"Want some company for the walk?" Silas offers, kissing my hand before releasing it. I grin and blush--he can still make me blush.

"You can... I mean, is that... are you offering to be nice, like before, or are you offering as... as..."

"Your boyfriend?" he finishes, raising an eyebrow. I turn so red that even my hands are mottled. Silas smiles.

I sigh. "Don't laugh. I'm just... this is new for me. You've done all this before."

Silas reaches forward quickly, then pulls me against him, his arms hard with muscle from wielding the ax. "Rosie," he says accusingly. "Believe me when I say, I have never done all
this
before."

"Oh," I muster, the only sound that my mouth seems capable of forming. Silas grins and pulls me down on top of him. Our legs tangle and I rest my head in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin lightly as I try to get even closer to

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him, though it seems impossible. He runs his fingers along my side, then moves to kiss my forehead tenderly.

"Maybe the class can wait after all," I mumble as I stretch upward to kiss him on the lips. My hand creeps up the front of his T-shirt, running along the lines of the muscles underneath.

"I promise," he murmurs in a tone so velvety that it makes me shiver, "there are plenty more chances for us to... well, to do this," he finishes, though I know there's more to "this" than my hand pressed against his chest and his lips on mine. I lie against him while he strokes my hair.

"As long as you promise," I whisper, grinning. Silas laughs quietly and kisses me again, then nods. I finally pull myself away and hurry to get dressed for class.

Tango lessons.

It's the only class available that doesn't sound totally lame, such as Real Estate Investing or Artificial Flower Arrangement. There's a painting course, but after the madness that was the drawing class, I'm done with art for a while. Mostly couples have shown up for the tango class, and I watch the way they act with each other as we wait together in the hallway outside the dance studio. They let their fingers rest on each other's arms, kiss cheeks, and smile softly. I wonder if I look the way these girls do when Silas puts his arms around me.

A man brushes past us, swishing his hips and sliding