Golden's Rule (36 page)
Authors: Billi Jean
Tabithia grinned. Only her aunt could pull off something like this.
When Trouble reached the edge of the storm, she spun as if just realising she was facing impending death by sports car.
Classic, really. Tabithia settled in for the show.
Trouble turned on the glam like the best Hollywood actress ever to grace the big screen. Eyes wide, she gasped like a little schoolgirl and trembled in her four-inch heels.
Tabithia hit her with more wind, sending Trouble’s long, burgundy curls flying. Trouble dropped her fake phone and covered half her face. Her eyes rounded out in shock at the car barrelling towards her on a sideways scream of rubber, and if she’d been human, she’d have been in big trouble.
But if the driver had been human, he would have just killed a defenceless-looking woman with his million-dollar baby.
Tabithia still winced and her body tightened in preparation for a disaster. The driver fought the car, beating it into a path angled away from Trouble, hitting a kerb, crashing sideways into a tan sedan and jerking to a halt, mere inches from her aunt.
Trouble faked the showgirl to a T with a scream that any B-movie actress would die for. Hands over her mouth, green eyes glistening with unshed tears, she looked scared out of her mind.
The vampire nearly tore the car door off trying to get out. Big, dark-haired and looking more like a Wall Street broker in a pinstriped suit than a vampire, he held his palms out in front of his chest, face set in concern and no little amount of panic.
Trouble stumbled and appeared on the verge of fainting. The vampire must have taken that as the real deal, because he raced to Trouble and caught her in his arms. Her aunt shrieked and clutched onto him as though she might fall without him. Tabithia thought she heard him swear. He took Trouble by the shoulders, appearing to check if she had suffered any harm. Her aunt broke down, gasping in fake fear, and clung to the guy like a vine. Vamps could sense a witch’s power, so he had to recognise her as a witch, but he must have thought her one weak little Wicca, because he patted her back and stroked her hair like a real Good Samaritan.
Tabithia didn’t waste time admiring her aunt’s work. She’d seen it before. Too many times. Instead, she hiked her butt to the car, ducked in the still-open door, spotted the black briefcase, grabbed it by its silver handle and backed out of the lush interior before Trouble had even finished weeping all over Mr Good Samaritan.
Job done. Satisfaction filtered through her enough to cause a little bubble of happiness. A smile tipped her lips, her first of the night. She had to admit that, although the chase might be getting old, the results always gave her a bit of a high. And shot down the darkness for a few minutes at least.
Tabithia glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. Trouble had wrapped her arms around the vampire’s shoulders, leaning every inch of her into every inch of him.
She’d seen that before, too. Maybe if she followed Trouble’s example, Tabithia wouldn’t feel this overwhelming darkness. This ache. The past rose up like a cloud of bats at the thought of letting any man touch her. The disgust, the horrors of the past, swelled and grew so gigantic that they winged across her vision, blocking the present with images she worked hard at suppressing.
Heart racing wildly against her ribs, Tabithia clutched the handle of the case hard enough to hurt her hand before slowly, finger by finger, loosening her grip.
Not daring to look over at her aunt again, Tabithia headed home. She’d need to hurry. The blade called, promising her the cure for all her suffering. The razor edge would slice more than her skin tonight. Tonight, she would cut deeply enough to slice the memories into pieces—pieces small enough to shove back under the lid.
Not for good. Never for good. But for a time.
Sometimes you had to take what you could and work with it because no one else could. The burden belonged to her. Alone.
About the Author
Billi Jean has been writing since high school when she couldn’t wait for Robert Jordon to write his
Wheel of Time
series faster. She writes from home in a little two hundred year old farm house in Western Massachusetts where she shares her space with her active children, an old dog, and two lazy cats.
Email:
[email protected]
Billi Jean loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.total-e-bound.com
.
Also by Billi Jean
Sisterhood of Jade: A Spartan’s Kiss
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