Enemy Within (Vampire Born Trilogy, #2) (47 page)

There was no answer. I hadn’t expected one.

I used my hand to wipe my eyes and sat, staring without really seeing at the tubes that connected Alex to the monitors above his bed. I didn’t really know what all of the numbers meant but the steady beeping was better than focusing on the hum inside my head or the ache inside my chest.

From the doorway, someone cleared their throat. “I thought I’d find you here.”

I attempted a smile. “Hi,” I said.

Wes was across the room in three steps. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I blinked away any lingering tears and focused on the singular sense of inhaling the scent of pine and rich dirt that clung to him underneath his human cologne. The wolf in me couldn’t get enough of that smell. The girl didn’t mind it either.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought you were leaving.”

Jack and Wes had been taking turns going out to meet with the other packs allied with The Cause to see if anyone had spotted any of the other hybrids. Olivia said the group I’d healed was only one batch. If that was the case, there were many more out there—probably dying or close to it—that needed our help. I didn’t love the idea of bonding to any more of them but I couldn’t just let them die, or worse, let CHAS find them. I had a pretty good idea what Gordon Steppe would do if he got his hands on a hybrid, especially the ones who’d lost their humanity.

“Jack sent Derek and Cord instead,” Wes said, his mouth moving against my hair.

I looked up at him sharply, my stress level spiking at his tone. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I think …” His gaze was fixed on the wall behind me. “Cord needed to get away for a while. Derek agreed to take her.”

I nodded, understanding the reason for his worry. “I see the way she looks at them,” I said quietly. “They make her think of the ones who killed Bailey, don’t they?”

“A little,” he admitted.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to admit I was just as concerned for the hybrids’ safety as Cord’s emotional state. Maybe more. I couldn’t help that I cared about them, but I wasn’t sure how to explain that to Wes. “She just needs a few days to clear her head. She’ll be fine,” he added.

“Did Cambria go with them?”

Lately, she’d been attached to Derek’s hip. I knew it was partly due to my being such poor company so I couldn’t fault her. I spent most of my time either here at the hospital or in the woods.

Since the day of the attack, shifting to my wolf form came more and more easily. It was partly practice, thanks to George, but more than that, something in my mind had opened to the idea of letting go. Letting it happen. The more I did that, the easier it became. As a wolf, my stress dropped away—or at least became less important. All of my emotions felt simpler as a wolf. Shifting helped make sense of the noise in my head. Running was easier, too, and I actually found myself enjoying it. Alex would probably get a kick out of that.

“Yes,” Wes said. “They’re stopping on the way back so she can see her mom before school starts again.”

“Cambria’s going to see her mom? I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”

He shrugged. “I guess it happened too fast. Her mom called yesterday and said something about meeting up.”

“CHAS released her?”

“I guess so.”

“That’s a relief,” I said. CHAS had taken Cambria’s mother into custody when she’d had too much to drink and let slip about the world of Hunters and Werewolves in a very human bar. From the way it sounded, we hadn’t expected a release anytime soon. “I can’t believe Steppe let her go so easily.”

“He’s got Olivia. His attention is on bigger things now,” Wes said. At the mention of Steppe, his tone took on an edge.

It reminded me of the first time I’d met Gordon Steppe, director of the Council for Hunter Affairs and Security, otherwise known as CHAS, the governing force behind all Hunters. Steppe wasn’t the nicest guy and Wes had almost lost himself and gone after the guy. It wouldn’t have been smart since Steppe already disliked Wes and was looking for a reason to overlook the peace treaty that gave amnesty to all Werewolves who belonged to The Cause. Wes had walked away that day but not without further angering Steppe. I knew Steppe was still looking for his reason.

“I feel horrible. I should’ve heard this from Cambria herself, not secondhand from you after the fact. She’s been so worried about her mom. I’m such a sucky friend lately.”

“Stop beating yourself up, Tara. You’ve got a lot on your plate. Call her when you can and catch up that way. She’ll be home in a few days.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I can do that.”

I laid my cheek against his chest and stared at Alex. It should’ve been strange or confusing to do so but it wasn’t. I’d made my choice the day Wes had helped me save the guy who’d betrayed us all, and I felt more certain of it as the days passed.

I missed Alex terribly. Our banter, his
sarcasm, my grumpiness, his twisted pleasure at my dislike of exercise. There were little things like the way he swiped a hand over his face when he was frustrated with me or the way he bit his lip in concentration when he hunted. But all of those things felt more and more settled into a place of friendship. Like George. Or maybe not quite like that. Certain memories still had the power to make my insides jump—like the goodbye we’d shared during our last night at Wood Point. When he’d promised to always find me and I told him he was my family. Or the kiss we’d shared that day in the woods.

I felt mostly friendship toward Alex. Mostly.

But being held by Wes—that was something I wouldn’t give up for anything or anyone. It felt absolutely right. And when given the choice I would choose Wesley St. John every single time. I sighed and leaned harder against him. He answered by wrapping his arms tighter around me.

Disjointed thoughts, voices that weren’t my own, passed through my mind like a headline news ticker on a television screen.

Exhaustion.

Jealousy.

Confusion.

Hunger.

“I need to get back,” I said after hearing the last one. None of the hybrids had hurt anyone yet but I didn’t want to take a chance. Usually, I made sure to keep Chris close by whenever I came into town but today he was running an errand for Fee. The hybrids were on their own at the camp we’d set up in the woods behind Jack and Fee’s house. I didn’t want to leave them hungry for too long.

“I brought the car,” Wes said. “We’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

“We can—” A new thought distracted me, this one more urgent than the others. I concentrated, trying to understand. It was more emotion than words, making it abstract and hard to understand at first. Whatever was causing it distressed the one experiencing it. Words formed, startling in their clarity.

Master. Come quickly.

I recognized the voice as Chris, my second in command with the hybrids. I was better at reading him than the others but it still unnerved me to hear a voice that was clearly not my own inside my head.

The rest of his thoughts washed over me. I shuddered, my jaw going slack.

“We have to go,” I said, stepping free of Wes to grab my stuff. I wound my headphones as fast as I could and stuffed them in my pocket.

“What is it?” Wes asked.

I cast one last look at Alex and headed for the door, tugging Wes along with me. “It’s Vera,” I said. “She collapsed.”

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CALL ME CRAZY PROLOGUE BY QUINN LOFTIS

“I’m looking out from inside the chaos. It must be a one-way mirror because no one seems to be able to see back inside to where I am. The looks on their faces, the judgment in their eyes, tells me everything I need to know. The most frustrating part about the whole messed up situation is that even though I’m the one that they stare at in shock, I am just as shocked as they are. I know no more than they do of why I lose control. What they don’t know is that I am more scared of myself than they could ever be.” ~ Tally Baker

I walk into my second period history class. It takes every ounce of willpower that I have left to take my seat today. I need to be up moving around. I don’t need to be sitting still—I can’t sit still. I need to walk so that I can think. My mind darts from one thought to the next, never bothering to stop and complete any of them. Of course I didn’t do the assigned reading last night. I can only hope that Mr. Dickinson will not call on me.

I can hear the whispers from the other students.  I can feel their stares on the back of my neck and I just want to turn and scream at them. My foot is tapping restlessly; my hands are shaking like an addict desperate for a fix. I
’m not an addict. I’m not going through any form of withdrawal. I’m broken. Something inside of me is defective and refuses to operate properly, like a busted radio that won’t tune into your favorite station.

Uttering a prayer of thanks I notice that I actually brought my history book as I pull it out of my backpack. I open it to a random page because I have no idea what unit we are on. I have no idea what the topic has been for the past couple of weeks actually. Would I like to know? Absolutely.  I would love to do my homework like everyone else.  I would love to pass a test once in a while. But broken people don’t do homework and broken people can’t pass tests. And as much as I would love to do those things, the shattered soul inside me brings me to a place where I don’t care. Getting from one second to the next is all I care about, it’s all I can think about. Just breathe Tally, in-out-in-out.

I don’t even realize that class has started until I hear my name. My jaw clenches as Mr. Dickinson’s nasally voice reaches my ears.

“Tally.”

I look up, briefly meeting his stare before my eyes dart away. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Does he see the monster crawling under my skin, clawing to get out, to take over? If he does, he gives no indication of it.

“Would you care to summarize last night’s reading?” He gives me a knowing smirk; or maybe I just perceive it that way.

“I can’t,” I admit and my voice is dry and gravely, sounding more like a smoker of twenty years than that of a seventeen year old. 

He adjusts his glasses on his long beaklike nose. His condescending smile reveals two rows of coffee-stained teeth. “You can’t, or you won’t?” He asks me.

My pulse is racing and my hands are growing clammier by the second.  I’m clenching them tightly, trying to clear my head and fight the rage that is building inside of me. I don’t know why that I’m so angry. Mr. Dickinson is a jerk and everyone knows it. Every student in his class has, at some point, been on the receiving end of his degradation. Somehow I know that it is not him that I am truly angry at, but that doesn’t matter to me right now. All that matters right now is that I can’t handle his smart ass comments. I can’t handle his belittling. I feel small enough right now.

“If my answer had been
I won’t
then that is what I would have said. The word
won’t
is a contraction of two words—WILL and NOT,” I continue, placing an emphasis on the two words as my voice steadily rises. “This would imply that an individual has the ability to perform a task, but chooses not to for whatever reason. Since that was not what I said, then that is not what I meant. Any person of average intelligence with even a rudimentary comprehension of the English language would know that when I said that I
can’t
summarize the reading, I meant that I don’t have the ability to summarize the reading.”

Some far away part of me knows that I need to shut up. It almost feels like I’m watching someone else say those things. Unfortunately it’s not someone else, it’s me and no amount of telling myself to stop talking will work. “At this point, an appropriate follow up question you might ask would be something like, why
can’t
you summarize the reading? That would give me the opportunity to tell you that it is because I did not
do
the reading.” I look down and realize that I’m standing. At some point in my tirade I have gotten to my feet. I look around at my classmates staring at me in horror. When I look back to Mr. Dickenson his face is bright red and I can tell that he is about to let me have it. I want to tell him that screaming at me in this moment would be the dumbest move of his life. Instead I calmly walk to the classroom door. I ignore him calling my name, threatening to have me suspended, like I care. My movements feel mechanical as I walk to the girls’ bathroom. There is only one thing that will pacify this pain, this rage that scares me to death.