Twisted (4 page)

So, she'd done it. She'd sliced her wrist—and oh, how that had hurt—pouring her blood straight down his throat. The wound had healed slowly for her, swiftly for a human, but Aden had gotten several mouthfuls in the interim. His cheeks had suddenly bloomed with color, and she'd been so hopeful—for both of them. But a few minutes later, the color had withered, then disappeared altogether, and his sleep had become fitful. Too fitful. He'd moaned in pain, writhed and finally vomited.

She explained all of that to Riley.

“Maybe that's the problem, then,” he said. “Maybe he doesn't need the blood.”

“I let him go twenty-four hours without it, and he got even worse. He only improved to this comalike state when I started feeding him again.”

A heavy sigh. “All right, here's what we're gonna do,” Riley said, taking charge. As always. “I'm gonna post guards at your door. No one but you and I are to enter this room. Understand?”

“No. Because I'm foolish. News flash, Riley. That's why I threatened to disembowel anyone who entered.” Well, well. Stress and lack of rest were making her snappy.

He continued, unperturbed, “You're going to feed him your blood, exactly as you've been doing, and you
will alert me if there's a change. Any change. I will go to the D and M ranch and grab his medication.”

The D and M ranch. Aden's home. Well, perhaps former home now. Troubled teenagers lived there, and it was a last stop on the road to redemption—or damnation. One broken rule, and those teens were kicked out. Leaving without contacting Dan, the owner of that ranch, was probably the biggest no-no of all.

“Victoria, are you listening to me?”

“What? Oh, yes. Sorry.” She was still so easily distracted. “But Aden hates his medication.” And if he wanted back inside that ranch, Victoria would make it happen. A few spoken commands, and the humans there would do and think whatever she wanted them to do and think.

If she still possessed the Voice, she thought with a swirl of dread. She'd lost her ultratough skin and could have lost her ultrapowerful voice, too. Since returning, she had tried to compel a few of the human slaves to do her bidding. They had smiled at her and gone on their way,
without
doing what she'd told them.

You're out of practice, that's all, and still haven't completely regained your strength.

The pep talk failed to comfort her.

“You're worse than Aden,” Riley muttered. “And I
don't care if he hates his meds or not. We've seen him like this before, minus the need for blood, and the medication was the only thing that helped him. If the souls are responsible, like they were before, we have to knock them out for a little while.”

“But what if the medication hurts him, now that he's a blood drinker?”

“Doubtful, since human meds don't really hurt you. But there's only one way to find out, isn't there?”

Good point. One that bothered her. Most everyone in Aden's life considered him a schizophrenic. Not only had his parents given him up when he was little, but he'd been shuffled from one mental institution to another. Different “cures” had been shoved down his throat for years, and he'd hated them all.

And, really, he liked the souls, loud and obnoxious as they were, and his newest medicinal regimen shut them down entirely. But Riley was right. Aden wouldn't last much longer in his current state. They had to try something, anything. Everything.

“All right.” She hated that she hadn't thought of this. If it worked, she could have saved Aden three days of…distress? Pain? Mental torment? Probably a mix of all three. “We'll try.”

“Good. I'll be back.” Riley turned on his booted heels and headed for the door.

“Riley.”

He stopped, but didn't face her.

“Be careful. Thomas's ghost is still there.” Thomas, the fairy prince Riley and Aden had killed to save her. Now his very nasty ghost haunted the ranch, and he craved vengeance.

“I will.”

“And thank you.” Being here was probably difficult for him. Mary Ann was his love, and knowing him, he was frothing over her disappearance. Was probably frantic to be out there, searching for her. Yet, he stayed because Victoria needed him.

When Aden improved, she would help Riley hunt for Mary Ann, she decided. A danger to her loved ones or not.

A stiff nod, and then Riley was gone, the door closing behind him. Sighing, Victoria turned back to Aden. Her beautiful Aden. What was going on in that head of his? Was he aware of his surroundings? Hurting, as she suspected?

Did he know what she had done to him, those last few minutes in their cave?

She ran her fingers through his hair, lifting the strands
and revealing the blond roots. There was a slight curl at the ends, the locks winding around her knuckles. He didn't lean into her touch as she was used to, and that saddened her.

How much turmoil could one boy endure before he crumbled? Since the moment she'd entered his life, he'd known only war and pain. Because of her, goblin poison had ravaged him. Because of her, the witches had cursed his friends to die. Because of her, the fairies had tried to take over the D and M ranch.

Fine. Maybe all those things weren't exactly because of her, but she still felt responsible. A humorless laugh escaped her. How human of her. To carry the weight of blame, despite everything. Aden would be so proud.

“You woke up from this kind of thing before,” she whispered. “You will wake up this time, too.”
Please.

Unable to bear the thought of separation, she remained where she was until Riley returned a half hour later. He was without his shirt and wearing new pants that weren't yet fastened. He'd dressed hastily, his other clothes ruined during his shift to wolf, she was sure.

Wolves tended to wear clothing that ripped easily. Because, when they shifted, they were stuck wearing whatever didn't fall off. And wearing human underwear
while in wolf form was something they preferred to avoid.

He carried a small wicker basket filled with medicine, the pill bottles rattling together. Victoria hopped to her feet, and he placed the basket where she'd sat.

“Sorry I took so long.”

“Thomas give you any trouble?”

“Nope. I didn't even catch a glimpse of him. But then, unlike Aden, I've never been able to see or hear the dead. The delay had to do with the pills. I didn't know which ones to give our boy and didn't want him to have a reaction to the wrong combination, so I just grabbed the bottles with his name on them, stopped in my room, and Googled.”

What he didn't say: Mary Ann was the Google queen, and she was the one who'd taught him how to use the search engine. Although, calling it an engine always confused Victoria. There were no workable parts that she could see.

“So, what happened at the ranch?” she asked.

“Here. See for yourself.” He extended his free hand, and she twined their fingers. They'd been together so long, they'd developed a very strong mental connection and were able to “share” their experiences.

As if a television screen were switched on inside her
mind with a view straight from Riley's eyes, she saw Dan, an ex-football star, tall, blond and rugged, standing in the kitchen of the ranch. His wife, petite, pretty Meg, bustled around him, tossing ingredients into a pot.

“—really worried,” Meg was saying.

“Me, too. But Aden's not the first to run away. He won't be the last.” While the words were accepting, the tone was not.

“He's the first to surprise you with his actions, though.”

“Yeah. He's just such a great kid. All heart.”

Meg's smile was soft. “And not knowing why he left kills you. I know, baby.”

“I hope he's okay. Maybe if I'd given him more one-on-one time, he wouldn't have—”

“No. Don't you dare do that to yourself. We can't control the actions of others. All we can do is support them, and pray we make a difference.”

The conversation faded as Riley stealthily maneuvered from the main house and into the bunkhouse behind it. Aden's friends were there. Seth, Ryder and Shannon lounged on the couch, watching TV. Terry, RJ and Brian were in front of the computer, playing games. Relaxing activities, but there was an undeniable tension radiating from each boy.

They must feel the loss of Aden, too.

I have to fix this,
Victoria thought.

Shannon stood, a chalky cast to his mocha skin, his gaze sweeping the room—and clashing with Riley's.

In the present, Riley released her hand, the images flickering, disappearing, and she was once again inside her bedroom.

“Shannon saw you,” she said.

“Yeah, but he didn't do anything and I was able to get what we needed without incident.” Riley dug inside the basket, setting aside what he wanted and discarding what he didn't. “There wasn't a whole lot of information, just enough to tell me he needs the antipsychotics. This, this, and this.” As he spoke, he placed the desired pills in her palm.

She studied them. One was yellow and round, one blue and oblong, and one white and scored in the center. These tiny things were supposed to help him when she could not?

“Fetch a glass of water from my bathroom,” she said.

Commands were not something Riley usually responded to, but he didn't hesitate to obey, soon thrusting the desired glass in her hand. His concern for Aden was as great as hers.

“Lift his head and tilt it back,” she said, and again, Riley jumped to obey.

She pried Aden's mouth open and set the pills on his tongue. Then she placed the rim of the glass at his mouth and poured. Just a little, but enough. Without looking away, she reached out and set the remaining water on her nightstand. Or tried to. Her aim was off, and the glass thudded and splashed to the floor. She didn't care. She closed Aden's mouth with one hand and worked his throat with the other, until all the pills made their way into his stomach.

That done, she straightened and peered down at her patient. “Now what?” she whispered, watching for any kind of response…and not seeing one.

“Now,” Riley said, grim, “we wait.”

M
ARY
A
NN
G
RAY SAT AT THE
corner desk in the back of the library, reading countless microfiches—the same thing she'd done every night for a week. Days were beginning to blend together, her temples were throbbing, the muscles in her back were knotted, and there were (probably permanent) marks along her butt and thighs that were a perfect match to the scuffs in the freakishly uncomfortable chair she'd commandeered.

According to all the “How To” info she'd read for people on the run, she knew developing a routine was bad. Like flashing a neon arrow just above your head. Problem was, this routine was necessary.

“They close in thirty, you know.”

She flicked an irritated glance at her companion. AKA the boy she couldn't ditch no matter what she tried. And she'd tried a lot. Dine and dash. The old “wait here, I'll
be right back.” The classic “what's that over there?” And even brutal honesty—“just leave me alone, I hate you.”

“So I'll finish in thirty,” she said. “Now get lost.”

“Let's not start that argument again.” Tucker Harbor perched at the edge of her desk, pushing books and newspapers on top of each other and crinkling their precious pages. Just to irritate her, she was sure. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Do you mind? This stuff is important.”

“Yes, I do mind, thanks for asking,” he said, staying put.

She glared up at him. A mix of blond and brown hair shagged around the boyish face of an angel. Which was one hundred percent false advertising, considering he'd been spawned from a demon. Or would that be spawned from
the devil?

“When are you going to tell me what you're looking for?” he asked.

“When I stop wanting to rip out your trachea. In other words, never.”

He shook his head in mock despondency. A hard thing to pull off while he was freaking grinning. “Harsh, Mary Ann. Harsh.” He was
so
annoying. She'd dated him for months, then dropped him like the used condom he was when
she found out he'd cheated on her with her best friend Penny. Penny, who was now pregnant with his kid.

Penny, whom she'd forgiven and still called. As of this morning, her friend was suffering from all-day sickness. Despite that, she'd managed to crawl her way out of bed to check on Mary Ann's dad.

Her friend's words played through her head.

“Sweet Jesus, Mary Contrary,”
Penny had crackled over the line.
“He's, like, the walking dead. He doesn't even go to work anymore. He just stays in the house. I peeked in the window last night, and he was just staring at your picture. You know I'm as hard core as a girl can be, but that almost broke me.”

Me, too,
she thought now.
Nothing I can do about that, however. I'm saving his life.
She'd had him freed from a vengeful fairy's compulsion to never leave his room and to ignore everything around him. That would have to be enough. Better he was despondent than murdered to get to her.

And, now it was time to change the subject inside her head. What had she been thinking about before? Oh, yeah. Tucker.

Why, why, why had she convinced Aden, Riley and Victoria to save Tucker's life after a group of vampires
used his body as an appetizer? If she hadn't, he wouldn't have been alive to stab Aden in the heart.

Weirdly enough, Tucker had confessed to the crime without any prompting from her. He'd even cried while telling her. Not that she had forgiven him. Maybe when the shock wore off. Then again, maybe not.

“What you did to Aden was harsh,” she said softly.

He blanched, but still he didn't move away. “I told you. Vlad made me do it.”

“And how do I know you're not here under Vlad's orders, watching me and reporting what I do?”

“Because I told you I wasn't.”

“And you're known for your honesty and integrity?”

“Sarcasm is an ugly thing, Mary Ann. Look, I did what he wanted and then I ran. I haven't seen him or heard from him since.”

The “heard from him” part gave her pause. She knew Vlad had spoken to Tucker inside his head, as if standing next to him and whispering when he hadn't actually been standing next to him and whispering. Maybe Tucker was telling the truth right now, but again, maybe he wasn't.

Bottom line: at any moment Vlad could whisper, command him to drag her home, hurt her, bury her,
and Tucker would obey without hesitation. She wasn't willing to risk it.

So she said, “I don't care about your reasons or that you're desperate to escape the head vamp. The facts are, you hurt Penny, hurt Aden, and you're a liability. I'd be stupid to trust you.”

“You don't have to trust me. You just have to use me. And in my defense,
again,
Aden is still alive. I can feel the pull of him.”

So could she, and that was the only reason she hadn't followed through with her threat to get up close and personal with his windpipe. Okay, that wasn't the only reason. She wasn't violent by nature. Usually.

Neither was Aden, but life had shaped him differently than it had shaped her. While she'd grown up in the comfort of her parents' love, he'd grown up in the cold, uncaring walls of mental institutions, his doctors constantly shoving pills at him. Pills he hadn't wanted and hadn't liked.

The docs had assumed he was crazy, never digging deeper to get to the truth. And the truth was, Aden was a paranormal magnet. Anyone or anything with supernatural abilities was drawn to him, and their powers—whatever they were—were magnified.

Mary Ann, on the other hand, was the exact
opposite. She tended to repel the supernatural and suppress powers.

The suppression thing was the reason Tucker had glued himself to her side. Around her, the darkest urges of his demonic nature were eased, even forgotten. He liked that. In fact,
that
was the reason he'd dated her. Not because he'd been attracted to her, but because he liked feeling normal.

So
not flattering.

“Look,” he said. “I've helped you, haven't I?”

She refused to admit that, yes, in the past few days he'd helped her. She still wanted him to suck it.

“Riley was closing in on you, and I cast an illusion, hiding you inside it. He passed you.”

Don't take the bait. And don't you dare think about Riley!
Riley, who was probably—
argh!
She pressed her lips together, once again remaining silent.

Tucker sighed. “
Such
a stubborn girl.”

Though she tried to stop them, thoughts of Riley continued to flood her. Riley, chasing after her the night she discovered the truth about her mother. Riley, catching her, carrying her to his car. Riley, kissing her. Comforting her. He would comfort her now, if she let him. But as much as she wanted to see him, she couldn't. She would definitely hurt him and quite possibly kill him.

And really, seeing him that last time, when he'd by passed her, unaware she was right there hidden in Tucker's illusion, had nearly killed
her
. She loved that boy. So much so she'd come close to giving him her virginity. Twice. Both times he had been the one to stop them, wanting to make sure she was ready. That she wouldn't regret what happened. That she was with him because she wanted him, and for no other reason.

Now she regretted that they hadn't.

Walking away from him—fine, running as fast as her feet would carry her—had been hard. Was still hard. Harder by the second. How easy would it be to call him and ask him to pick her up? Beyond easy. He'd do it, too. Meet her wherever she asked, sweep her up and cart her to safety. That's just how he was.

So, she had to be the same way for him. Anything to keep him safe. Even if that meant being apart. Forever.

“I had to stand far away from you,” Tucker went on, either oblivious to her inner turmoil or simply not caring, “so you wouldn't mess with my mojo. You know, stifle it.”

“No. I don't know what mojo is because I'm a moron.”

“Sarcasm again. Seriously, rethink it.
Anyway.
I had to
be close enough to you to still be able to force Riley to see only what I wanted him to see. That wasn't easy.”

She made a big production of leaning forward and “studying” the screen. When, in actuality, the words were kinda blurred together and had been for a while. Fatigue rode her hard. Nowadays, fatigue always rode her hard. She felt like she hadn't slept in years.

Every night, when she laid her head on whatever motel pillow she could afford—or when she couldn't, whatever building she stumbled upon—she tossed and turned, her mind lost to the things she'd witnessed and done what seemed an eternity ago.

Wow. An eternity that was really only about two craptastic weeks ago. Bodies had been writhing in pain all around her.
Because
of her. People had begged for mercy. Because of her. Because she had placed her hands on their chests and absorbed their powers, warmth and energy, leaving them with nothing, turning them into empty husks. “Did you
want
to see the wolf?” Tucker asked, head tilting to the side as he measured her expression.

“Yes.” The truth left her before she could stop it. How big and strong and capable Riley had looked. How frustrated and angry. How…frightened. For her.

Exasperated, Tucker threw up his arms. “Then why are you running from him?”

Because she was dangerous. She wouldn't mean to, but one day she would drain the energy out of him, too.
Without
touching him. Truly, she didn't need to touch people to kill them. Touching helped, yes, but she could simply stand in front of them and inadvertently start tugging their life force into her own body.

Those life forces had become her food, after all.

Though she'd tried, she hadn't drained Tucker yet. For some reason, she couldn't. He possessed some kind of block. Either that, or her previous overindulgence prevented her from feeding. Yet.

She should feel guilty that she'd tried, because, if she had succeeded, he would never have recovered. The witches hadn't. The fairies hadn't. Only the ones who'd left the fray before she'd reached them had survived the carnage.

She sighed. Despite her failure with Tucker, she thought it was just a matter of time before her hunger returned in full. Every few hours, she experienced slight pangs. She feared those pangs would only grow. That they would develop invisible arms and reach out, grabbing onto whatever creature happened to be in her vicinity.

Fingers crossed, Tucker was victim one.

She found herself wondering what demons tasted like and had to shake away the thought. See? She couldn't control this newest aspect of her nature. Bile burned a path up her throat. She needed a distraction. Big-time.

Mary Ann swiveled in her chair, leaned back and rested her hands on her middle. Peering up at her ex through the thick shield of her lashes, she said, “Tucker, I'm no good for you. You should leave while you can.” He'd get one warning. Only one.

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You saw what I did that night.” A statement not a question. And she didn't have to specify what night she meant.

“Yeah.” His frown disappeared, a high-wattage grin taking its place. “And it was impressive as hell.”

Impressive? Hardly. Her cheeks suffused with heat. “If you stay, I'll do that to you. I won't mean to—at least, that's what I'll tell anyone who questions me—but I will.”

The person next to her, a college-aged girl, shushed her. “Trying to work here.”

“Trying to converse here,” Tucker said, flashing a scowl at her. “You don't like it, you can move.”

She moved, her ponytail angrily swishing back and forth.

Mary Ann fought a small wave of jealousy. She'd always wanted to be strong and assertive, and while she was working on it, she wasn't there yet. For Tucker, it came so effortlessly.

Tucker studied her, one brow arched. “Liked that, did you?”

Took a Herculean effort, but she maintained a neutral expression. “No.”

“Liar.” He rolled his eyes, then rested his elbows on his knees. “Back to what we were
discussing
.” He threw the last word at the girl, now four desks away, before refocusing on Mary Ann. “Let's say I like to live on the edge, and the fact that you could one day hurt me revs my engine. But guess what, baby doll? You need me. Riley wasn't the only one chasing you, you know.”

“What?” That was news to her.

“Yep. Two girls. Both blondes. You kinda fought them before.” He gave a low, raspy wolf-whistle. “And BTW, they're hot.”

The bile gave her throat another good singeing. “Were they wearing robes? Red robes?” If so…

“Yes. You saw them this go-round?”

“No.” But hot blondes she'd “fought” before were
rare. So, she knew exactly whom he spoke of and suddenly wanted to vomit.

“Too bad. You could have put in a good word for me. Because, yeah, I'd do 'em.”

“A good word?” she scoffed, though inside she trembled. “When you'd do anyone? Please.” The blondes were witches, no question. Witches who had escaped her wrath. Witches who now hated her for destroying their brethren. Witches with power beyond imagining.

Mmm, power…

The fear momentarily left her, and her mouth watered. Witches tasted so good…

When she realized what thoughts were pouring through her mind, she slapped herself on the cheek.
Bad Mary Ann! Bad!

“Okay, what was
that
about?”

She ignored Tucker to concentrate on her new top priority. More wards. If witches were on her tail, she needed to be ready for their attack. And they would attack. New wards would protect her from specific spells they might cast. Spells of death, destruction and even mind control.