Nine Lives of an Urban Panther (4 page)

“You're starting to sound like Jessa,” Chaz said, appearing in the doorway of my bedroom.

“Well, we are the Key Holder and Guardian. I'm sure there is some personality osmosis.”

Chaz walked across the room and my entire body smiled at him. My day had been crap. I'd had to hand-feed Drew the script for the pilot
MoonBlood.
I'd had to walk two pack members through getting a driver's license. Another one called to see if he could take a job at a fast-food place, and I'd had to catch Tucker up on what had happened with Kandice's boyfriend to make sure that the guy was going to stay gone.

And now I was about to see a cousin I hadn't talked to in three years.

Chaz slid his hands around my waist and pulled me against his strong frame. Without my charm on, he was warm and goldenly and my radiating power beat like a heartbeat around us. He kissed my nose and smiled. “You'll look beautiful in anything.”

I snorted. “I have to look great. I haven't seen Waylon since Aunt Glory's funeral three years ago.”

Chaz pulled away, catching my hand and pulled me toward the bed with a playful glint in his hazel eyes. “If you need a little relaxation . . .”

I resisted his advances regretfully. “We've still got company.”

“We've always got company.” He sighed and let my hand go. He flopped on the corner of the bed and watched as I went back to searching through my closet, which was better than it was six months ago, but still didn't have quite what I wanted to wear.

“Is this you being nervous?”

I stopped flipping through my tops and looked over at him. “It's just dinner with Waylon. Not a wildebeest from the other side of the Veil.” At least that was the company line I'd been repeating to myself every time the thought of dinner tonight crossed my mind.

“Didn't answer my question.”

I sighed and finally pulled out a billowing black top to go with dark jeans. Waylon's call three weeks ago was not frantic, nor did it require silver daggers or claws. He just wanted to know if I wanted to see him and meet his twelve-year-old daughter. Nothing odd about that.

Except Waylon and I hadn't really talked to each other in a very long while and hadn't been close since he went off to college more than thirteen years ago.

And now he was back. Out of the blue.

As I pulled on the needed tank top, I thought about it. Was I nervous? “I'm not any more nervous than meeting with the new pack members.”

“Then why aren't they staying here?”

I pulled on my shirt and ran my fingers through my hair. “Because they are staying at the Ritz-Carlton. What's my little place compared to the Ritz-Carlton?”

Chaz sighed, that little furrow between his golden green eyes forming. “Did you even offer?”

I sighed and put my hands on my hips. “What are you getting at, Chaz?”

“You have Shadow here all the time. Nash crashes at our place more than at Tucker's, and three times now, I've almost walked in on Kandice in the guest bathroom and she's only been here a day.”

“And?” I asked as I went into my bathroom to figure out what I was going to do with my hair.

“Could there be a possibility you see your pack as your family and Waylon as just someone you're related to?”

I stopped brushing my hair. Crap. The pretty boy might be right. He did have a tendency to call me out when I was acting stupid or not thinking things through. I didn't know Waylon, not anymore, and he sure didn't need me like the others in my life needed me.

Chaz appeared in the doorway to the bathroom. “Vi? Family is more than just the people who rely on you.”

I turned around to face him. “You know I hate it when you get all philosophical.”

“That's right,” he smiled. “You just keep me around to help you find your keys.”

“And don't you forget it.” I turned back around to look at myself in the mirror.

Chaz came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. As he rested his head on my shoulder to look at me in the mirror, every muscle in my nervous frame relaxed against him as I rested my head against his. I was petrified about meeting Waylon and Lexie.

“I don't know if shame is even the right word for how we've just let each other float on our own for so long.”

“What's the back story here, Vi? Do I need to hate this guy? I've got that rocket launcher I'd never used before.”

“No.” I sighed. I let the warmth of Chaz soothe my narration. “I guess the blurb of it goes like this: My parents died. I got shipped off to my aunt's. Waylon came in all white knight with his comic books and canvas high tops, being the brother I never had, but two years later, I was back on the porch, cheeks wet with tears as he headed off to college and I'm was left, again, by someone that I love. I promised myself after that I'd just take care of myself and not rely on anyone.”

Chaz nodded through the story, making little therapist sounds in my ear. “Because they always left?”

“Because they always left.”

Chaz tightened his arms around me. “But you've grown up.”

“I think I've had some help.”

He rested his head on my shoulder. “You two are the only ones left in your family. He's a single parent and he's turning to you. He's not asking for power. He's not asking for protection. He just needs you here.”

I nodded. “But I can do protection. I'm good at the slash and
grrr
. It's the emotional stuff I'm not too sure about. What do I know about kids? I was so emotionally blocked at Aunt Glory's funeral I missed that Waylon even had a daughter.”

Chaz kissed my temple. “All you need to be is the adorable, loving, funny cousin Violet.”

“What about Aunt Violet? I always wanted to be Aunt Violet.”

He smiled. “Be the adorable Aunt Violet and I'm sure he'll tell you what he needs. You Jordans are a little blunt sometimes.”

I slapped his arm but pulled his arms tighter around me. The warmth of him was almost as good as a double latté to soothe my jittering nerves. The sparkle off my engagement ring caught the bathroom light and twinkled merrily against the black shirt.

“Crap,” I sighed as I pushed away from Chaz and went back to my closet.

“What?” he asked.

“I wore black last time I saw Waylon.”

L
EXIE WANTED TO
have dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. Being a Friday night, there were a million other people who seemed to have a hankering for cheesecake as well. The foyer alone was deafening, even to a person without super hearing. For me, it was like the front row at an AC/DC concert.

I had to ask the hostess three times to see if our party had arrived. The young girl shook her head and I took my table buzzer. Chaz and I wriggled back out of the crowd and stood out on the sidewalk. I gulped in the quiet air not saturated with date-night perfumes.

Chaz dodged another couple walking into the restaurant. “Do you think he'll consider someplace else?”

I shrugged. “This is what she wanted.”

“Don't they have one where they live? Which is where again?”

I had to think. “It wasn't Illinois. He split from that place before I did. I think he mentioned Chicago or Boston or Pittsburgh. One of those.”

Chaz jammed his hands in his back pockets. “So that wandering thing is a Jordan trait?”

I crossed my arms and huffed. I knew what he was asking. He was trying to see if Waylon had a talent like my mother had a talent, like I had a talent. “I don't know, Chaz.”

“Does he know about you?”

“Bitten by a werepanther in my back alley isn't exactly first-conversation stuff.”

I knew the moment the pair arrived. There was a shimmer of something like cold pebbles rolling down my spine as I watched the two walk toward us. I didn't know if it was magic or nerves. I tugged at my red top and adjusted the charm at my throat.

Waylon looked like he had three years ago. Sandy hair and sun-kissed skin, everything that wasn't me. He was saying something to his daughter, and as the two of them laughed, they shared the same smile.

The girl was already up to his shoulder, taking after her cousin Violet already. Her long brown hair was swept up in a ponytail and she pushed her glasses up on her nose as she said something about a four-inch cheesecake that this boy in class said he ate in four bites but she was sure he was lying.

Got to love that super hearing.

When Waylon saw me, he knew me too, despite the seven-inch growth spurt, despite the loss of poundage and glasses. He smiled as he approached. “Violet.”

His smile was wide and clear as he stuck out his hand. His hand was like his smile, warm and honest as I slipped my hand into his and squeezed. I knew a normal person would have hugged their long-lost cousin, but I wasn't ready for that yet.

“Waylon, this is Chaz Garrett, my fiancé.”

“All right, Violet. Congratulations.”

The two men shook hands and Chaz opened up his borders to greet him. I knew what he was doing, trying to see if Waylon got any of my family's psychic blood. Right now, Waylon was as normal as the next guy.

“And let me introduce my daughter, Lexie.” Waylon's hand rested on his daughter's shoulder and he beamed. No magic involved.

“Please to meet you, Lexie.” I stuck out my hand.

The girl pushed up her glasses as she reached out her thin hand. I shook it gently and smiled. The girl relinquished a small smile. There was a bit of Violet in there somewhere, but there was more Waylon.

“How's the line?” Waylon asked as he looked toward the door.

“About thirty minutes,” Chaz said.

“But it's crazy loud in there,” I said.

Waylon frowned, and again, cold stones rolled down my spine.

“Right, well. Why don't we find another place for dinner?”

“But I wanted a four-inch cheesecake,” Lexie said.

“We can get some later, honey. It's too loud for your Aunt Violet.”

The moment he said
Aunt Violet
I loved the sound of it. It was one of the few titles that I didn't mind and I found myself smiling for no reason as I imagined no less than three ways to spoil her. Maybe there was something magical to this family thing.

Waylon squeezed his daughter's shoulder. “Do you guys know of another place close?”

“There's Maggiano's, at the mall,” Chaz suggested.

“There's a mall?” Lexie's eyes brightened immediately, the thought of gigantic cheesecake but a distant memory.

“Why did you have to say the ‘m' word?” Waylon sighed as he rolled his eyes.

 

Chapter Four

C
HAZ KEPT UP
with Lexie as she darted through the stores in the mall like a hummingbird on crack. Only his super speed explained how he was able to keep up with a twelve-year-old girl.

And we let him. Waylon and I hadn't really gotten a chance to talk during dinner. I was too busy catching up on everything teenager. Lexie did not inherit my shyness as she rattled on for forty minutes about this and that. The memories of why I preferred my college tenure over my high school years came rushing back quickly. Boys and cliques and homework, oh my.

Waylon and I leaned against the railing outside of the store Lexie was currently rummaging through. He took another bite of the ice-cream cone that Lexie had wanted, taken two licks from, and handed to her father before her mad dash. Now, we were both using the ice cream as a way to avoid talking about what really needed to be talked about: Why now? Why, after thirteen years?

I savored the tiramisu gelato a little too long and tried to get the conversation started with some small talk. “So Ritz-Carlton? That must be nice.”

“The company is paying for relocation.”

“Do they need a staff writer?”

Waylon let out a small chuckle. The familiarity of him danced down my skin and I couldn't help but smile myself. For an instant, I saw the Waylon I remembered, sparkling eyes and charming smile. “Since we are in between schools, if you know of any educational things to do here in Dallas . . .”

I nodded. “I know loads. Wrote a bunch of articles for
Parent Dallas
, this local magazine. I could email them to you if I had your email.”

Waylon's shoulders dropped. “Let's not beat around the bush, Vi. I'm sorry. I knew what you were going through and I left anyway because I was selfish eighteen year old. You shouldn't have been alone.”

The fear and hate and anger swirled around me for a moment as he brought up memories I thought I'd long suppressed into oblivion. With the memory of the crying chubby girl on the porch, the Legacy crept out and swirled around me protectively, and the heat of it started to melt my dessert.

I managed a few words. “I did have Aunt Glory.”

“Let's be honest. You needed me and I left.”

I licked my lips and looked down at the quickly melting cup. I took in a deep breath and calmed my borders. The power was soothing like a protective blanket of power that knew I was stressed.

“Please say something,” Waylon pleaded.

I didn't know what to say. No quippy remarks, no snappy comebacks.

“I practiced that speech in front of my mirror for two days, Violet.”

I chuckled. I could see him do it, because I did it.

“I kept seeing you at fourteen, looking back at me, those green eyes, just like your mom's.”

“What did I say?”

“I was a detestable mole-rat that should be flung out into the desert and left to live off its own urine.”

I laughed.

“You always did have a way with words.”

I took in a deep breath and looked up at him. I didn't see the boy who left, but a completely different man before me. Maybe with a hint of the boy who used to do Mad Libs with me when I couldn't sleep and made sure I was never in need of spiral notebooks for my stories.

And Chaz was right. I wasn't that chubby little girl anymore and I had managed to put together a family here in Dallas.

And most importantly, he deserved a second chance. We both did.

Waylon looked down at his cone. “I just need someone in my corner right now, Violet. I'm not asking for help. A familiar face, someone Lexie can rely on. It's been just the two of us since Mom died and I'm exhausted.”

“Would it be too forward of me to ask about Lexie's mother?”

“Dancing away in Vegas, I suppose.”

I plucked a napkin from Waylon's fingers to catch a drip of gelato from the now completely melted cup in my hands, but when my fingers brushed his, the story flashed across my brain so fast that I didn't have a chance to secure my dessert. They met when he was young. He was on a roll at the tables. They got married, had a baby, but the nuclear life wasn't for her and she left them to go back to the bright lights of the big city, leaving him only twenty years old with a baby to take care of.

After the sharp sting of the vision, brain party, whatever you wanted to call it, I had to pry my eyes open. Waylon was kneeling before me as he picked up my cup from the floor.

“You okay?” He frowned up at me.

Uh-oh. I've re-known him for a whole two hours and he already had the furrow. “Fine. Brain freeze,” I lied. I didn't like doing it.

Waylon tossed the half-eaten gelato in the garbage and returned to me.

“I know it's going to take small steps. You've got a life here, a big fiancé, and I don't want to ruin whatever peace you've finally found.”

The comment elicited a laugh. Peace. Right.

Lexie and Chaz exited the store we were outside of as if on some fated cue and Chaz's golden eyes sparkled up at me. That's right, there was my peace. There was my reason to fight.

In that moment, Lexie darted off in another direction and Chaz jumped after her.

We laughed as we slowly followed them. “It really is good to see you all grown up, Violet.”

“Who said anything about being grown up?”

W
HEN WE GOT
home from dinner, I paused at the sliding glass door of the patio. Something was off.

“Vi?”

I unlocked the door and opened it.

Chaz, being the Marine I'm pretty sure he was in another life, pushed past me and drew his gun from the hidden holster at his hip. He walked stealthily through the first floor of the house, peeking around corners as he cleared the bottom floor.

“Really?” I asked as I tossed my keys on the table and closed the door behind me.

“What?” he asked as he put his gun away and looked at me. “You looked like something was wrong.”

“Nothing's wrong,” I smiled. “Take a listen.”

Chaz cocked his head, but I knew he didn't feel what I did throughout the house. “We have the house to ourselves?”

He raised an eyebrow.

I jumped him. It wasn't pretty. Between the lack of guests and the newly acquired confidence from my recent foray into being a decent Prima and Aunt, I was more than a little eager for some Chaz time.

He caught me easily as I wrapped my legs around his middle. His lips were just as greedy as mine were as he walked us across the living room and dropped down to the couch. I adjusted my legs to straddle his hips.

I laughed and pulled away from him. His eyes were a happy hazel and his lips were soft and parted.

“What?” he asked.

“Have I told you that you're amazing?”

“Not this week.”

“Remind me to put it in my planner.”

I kissed him again, taking it slower this time, being a little more thorough, making sure to enjoy his supple lower lip and his honey mouth.

He ran his strong hands up my torso and slid my shirt easily over my head. His lips trailed down my neck and my eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. He slid my bra strap down my shoulder as his kisses moved slowly southward.

And then his phone started to ring. The distinctive ring of a damsel in distress.

He stopped kissing me and rested his head against my breastbone. His breath traveled down my chest and his fingers curled around my waist.

I kissed the top of his head. “You should get that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Didn't you just tell me that the Avion wouldn't call you for trivial things?”

Chaz sighed and I slipped off his lap. As he strode angrily across the living room, I pulled on my tank top.

I tried not to listen to the conversation but that naturally curious thing prevented me from letting Chaz have any privacy.

“About what time? No, I've been with my fiancé. Can I come now?”

When he went for his keys, I rose off the couch.

“I'll be right there.” Chaz slipped his phone into his back pocket. “My house was just broken into.”

“Crap. Was that the police?”

“Yeah. Neighbor reported it.”

“Want me to go with you?”

Chaz paused in his trek to the back door.

I nervously filled that silence, suddenly afraid that he wouldn't want me there with him. “I mean I can stay here and wait for you to come back, but we all know I'm just going to hound you afterwards.”

“No, you should come. And speaking of hounds, can you call Tucker?”

I nodded and went to grab my purse from the dining-room table.

There was only one cop car outside but its lights were making every shadow on Chaz's street dance like a patriotic parade.

Chaz walked up to the front door, which had been kicked in. “Let me clear it first.”

I nodded. As high as I was on being a kick-butt Prima, I was also going to be good fiancée if it killed me. This was his house, his violation; therefore, it was his show.

See, I was learning.

Tucker said he'd meet us there, so I stayed outside on the lawn.

An old woman in a blue housecoat and pink slippers shuffled toward me from the house next door. Her silver-streaked hair was wrapped up in soft pink curlers and she smelled like Ben-Gay.

“What happened?” she asked, her wide brown eyes looking up at me.

“Looks like someone kicked in his door.”

“Oh my. Well, good thing you two weren't home.”

Actually, I kinda wished we had been there. The two of us would have taken out a burglar in about four seconds flat. No muss, no fuss. This was just extra paperwork.

“Should we be worried?” the old woman asked.

“I don't know. I'll make sure we let you know what happened.”

“Thank you. Seth has always been such a good neighbor. Still mows my yard every week.”

I looked over the woman's shoulder and smiled. I didn't correct who had actually been mowing her yard for the past six years. “He's a keeper.”

“Violet!” Chaz was waving at me from the door.

“Take care of yourself,” I said over my shoulder as I walked across the front yard.

The woman shuffled back toward her house and I wondered how many more eyes were on us at two in the morning and which pair had called it in. It made me tighten my sweater around me as I joined Chaz in the doorway.

“Can you take a sniff around?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Chaz just glared. “Do you want me to say please?”

“Maybe later.” I winked at him before I entered the familiar scene.

The police officer was sitting in an armchair filling out paperwork. He rose. “Are you the fiancée?”

“I do have that honor.”

“Mr. Garrett looked around and said he didn't see anything missing. Said you might be able to.”

“I'll try.”

When I was sure the officer was nothing more than an average Joe, I took off my dampening charm and released my borders. Without the charm to dull my senses, the information jumped to me. There had been someone here, but I couldn't smell them. The lack of scent scared me. It was something unnatural. Not a shifter or elemental; they left a trail, a smell in their wake, being the more natural of the Wanderers. This was something that left a trail of cold spots through the living room and into the guest bedroom.

I followed the cold spots, and they led straight to the trunk. Chaz's father had locked away a book responsible for enslaving half the shifter population of Dallas in that trunk. Why were they looking for the book? How did they even know it was here?

I walked back into the hallway and picked up on the cold spots. Holding my hands out, I felt where it—he, it was definitely a he—had walked through the house to the back bathroom. It was then I noticed that it wasn't cold; it was a lack of heat, like the life had been sucked out of that spot. Every space had an energy, and this one's had been sucked out.

I ran my hand across the sink and felt another cold spot on my half-used bottle of shampoo.

That was just creepy.

I went back out into the well-lit living room as fast as I could and found Tucker talking to the police officer. His eyes flashed to me for a moment, and his energy was spiky. Something the police officer said had set him on edge.

Chaz, too. His arms crossed over his chest so tightly I was sure he would rip his jacket. I walked over to him and rubbed my hand across his shoulder, using some of the friction to warm up my hands from the creepy cold spots.

“Got anything?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. I kept my lips tightly clamped between my teeth to keep from telling him because I didn't want to say anything in front of the officer. I was pretty sure that Officer Joe would not understand unnatural cold spots running around the house.

Tucker spoke police to the officer, and about fifteen minutes later, the officer gave Chaz a case report number and I asked that he stop next door to calm the neighbor's nerves.

When the door was shut, I was finally able to speak. It felt like I'd been holding my breath for ten minutes. “It wasn't a shifter or an elemental. But it was one of us. Something that leaves an ice-cold trail. And they went for the trunk in the closet.”

“The one with the wedding dress?” Chaz asked as he headed for the room.

We followed after him. It didn't strike me as odd that Chaz would think of it as the trunk with his mother's wedding dress and other family heirlooms. But for me, it was the trunk that I used my weird psychic powers to open and discovered the most evil book on the planet like it had been calling to me.

He went to the trunk and examined the still intact lock. He looked relieved, if a person whose house was just broken into can look relieved.

“He walked down the hallway and messed with my shampoo, too.”

“It could have been trying to catch your scent.” Tucker said.