Part 4 (2/2)

I rubbed my face, willing my thoughts to concentrate on the here and now. Fatigue weighed on my muscles like a heavy mound of sand. Emme took almost ten minutes to heal the damage Taran, Shayna, and Larissa had unleashed. A personal record for her, but my injuries had been extensive and now my body griped from its exhausted efforts to help her. ”One challenge left,” I managed to mutter. ”Tomorrow, at midnight, this should all be behind us.”

Shayna raised a brow. ”Will you make it till midnight, dude? These challenges aren't getting easier.” She played with the edges of her long ponytail. ”And G.o.d knows we're not helping.”

”It all ends tomorrow night,” I promised them. And it would. Except I couldn't predict who would stand as the victor. I never expected the challenge to be easy. And yet my naivete never prepared me for this.

”Celia, I'm not sure what to think of all this,” Emme said almost silently.

Which part-the newt, the challenge, or Celia vs. Celia? ”What do you mean, sweetie?”

Emme reached for the ice cream in the freezer and pulled the milk from the double door fridge. ”I thought witches were like vampires in that they couldn't cross our threshold to do us harm-unless we invited them in, I mean.”

I ma.s.saged the tense muscles of my left shoulder. ”Technically they didn't harm me. I harmed myself. My body-or whatever-did have a right to be here.”

Emme smiled softly. ”But they needed a bit of your essence to enter. And I presume they managed that through the use of your hair. But how could they obtain such a large clump without entering our house?”

”They took it from the hospital.” I elaborated when Shayna stopped fumbling beneath the counter for the blender and frowned with obvious confusion. ”I had too much slop on me following the first attack and showered at work. I normally finger-comb my waves after I wash my hair and let them air dry. But all the body fluid had glued my strands together. I borrowed your comb from our locker, Shayna, and worked it through my hair to get everything out. It was pretty much shot when I finished with it, so I tossed it. Larissa could obviously see me. That's how she'd caught me in the dirty utility room. She or her witches could have seized my leftover hair from the drain or fished the comb from the garbage.” Shayna blinked back at me. ”I, um, owe you a new comb,” I said in response to her blank expression.

Shayna rushed to her feet and threw her arms around me. ”I don't care about the stupid comb,” she choked. ”I care about you. She could have cast a lot worse spell with your hair and blood in her hands.”

”G.o.d d.a.m.n it.” Taran scooped the vanilla ice cream into the blender like it had called her a b.i.t.c.h and poured in what remained of the milk. Most of it sloshed off to the sides, spilling all over the brown and black marble counter. I grabbed a towel to wipe it, but she ripped it from my grasp. ”For s.h.i.+t's sake, Celia. Shayna's right. Who knows what else Larissa plans to do? With your hair, your blood- Aw, h.e.l.l. Why didn't you throw in a tooth while you were at it?”

”If the newt had managed to pry off a molar, maybe I would have.” My dark humor was supposed to make them laugh. Only silence greeted me. Silence, and the still air that came with an ill-fated future. Taran hit the mix b.u.t.ton on the blender. She poured me a milkshake the moment the mixer stopped. I downed it and she poured me another, giving me the much needed calories I'd need to fight. Popeye had his spinach. My tigress, well, what could I say. She liked her milk.

Shayna rushed down to the bas.e.m.e.nt and returned with more ice cream and more milk. My appet.i.te surprised even me. When I had my fill, I dumped my empty gla.s.s into the dishwasher and headed up the back steps, hoping my tired body would surrender into sleep the moment it hit the bed.

Taran gripped my arm as my bare feet felt the crush of our newly carpeted steps. Her irises sparkled so clearly, they resembled diamonds instead of sapphires. ”Just know this, Celia,” she said. ”If she hurts you beyond repair, if she doesn't stay true to her word, or if she steals you from us, we will go after them. All of them. And G.o.d help anyone who takes their side.”

Chapter Eight.

Weres could sniff lies. So could vampires. And even witches sensed a fib to some extent. I didn't have that gift. But I knew my sisters, sometimes better than I knew my own tigress. Taran meant what she said. And it scared the h.e.l.l of me. But what scared me more were the definitive nods from Shayna and Emme.

If something happened, they would avenge me, even at the cost of their lives. I couldn't fault them. I'd do the same. Yet that didn't make it the right or honorable solution. My narrowed eyes made them drop their gazes. ”No, you won't. I invoked the Ninth Law to guarantee your safety, not so you'd kamikaze if the outcome didn't suit you.”

”Celia-”

”Enough, Taran. I won't hear anymore. You will stay out of it.”

I stormed up the steps. My sisters' threats angered and saddened me. I fell into my bed wrestling with what could happen if I failed. Would my stubbornness keep me from calling mercy in time? I hoped not, but I couldn't be sure. Eventually, though, the stress of the challenges and the toll they'd taken on my body kicked my worries aside and caused my lids to droop. Darkness claimed me. I fought it at first, afraid the ghosts of my past and the mind games Larissa played would trigger my worst nightmares. I didn't expect pleasant dreams. I didn't expect him to return.

I didn't know his name. I couldn't see his face. But I knew his arms. They were strong, stronger than mine, enveloping me with protection and an unspoken promise that I wasn't alone. My fingers traced a line along the powerful ridges of his muscular chest.

”Hi,” I whispered when he drew me closer.

”Hi, love,” he answered in a voice that wasn't really a voice, just a mere shadow of what could be. ”I haven't felt you against me in so long.”

”I know. I've missed you.” My smile faded. ”I'm scared,” I confessed. Because it was only to him I could openly admit such weakness.

”You've been scared before.”

”Yes, more times than I can count.” I listened to his heartbeat, taking comfort in the soft, rea.s.suring drum. ”The fear, the threats-they don't end, do they? I'm still not safe.”

”No.” His voice seemed gruff, angry. Like my fear or the possibility of me getting hurt was too much for him to take. Or maybe I just needed him to sound that way.

I rubbed my face against him, purring softly when his fingers ran gently along my unclothed back. With him, I didn't feel the need to cover my body. It was only right for our bare flesh to touch. ”Will you be with me tomorrow?”

”I'm always with you, Celia. You just don't know it yet. . . .”

I woke to the wonderful smell of bacon, my arms clutching a pillow tight, my cheek moist from the tears on my sheets. I cried whenever I dreamt of him, mostly because he remained a figment of my wildest dreams. After all, the possibility of a male's loving arms around me was the furthest thing from reality. Males didn't seek my company. Period. So how could I ever convince one to hold me, to touch me, to see me as beautiful?

I wiped my eyes and slipped on a pair of yoga pants before making my way into the bathroom. Brus.h.i.+ng my teeth would never be the same again. I paused in front of the mirror. It took several long, tension-filled minutes before I became convinced my reflection wouldn't choke the snot out of me. I reached for my toothbrush and some paste, all the while glaring at my potential would-be a.s.sa.s.sin.

My original plan included making my bed, except the wonderful smell of delicious artery-clogging goodness made me abandon those efforts. I quickly padded down the steps, grateful I'd survived the morning's teeth-cleansing experience.

Shayna's bright smile greeted me in the kitchen. The window spilling the bright morning sun made her blink as she pa.s.sed. Good grief, I must've slept a h.e.l.l of a long time.

She gave me a one-arm hug, careful not to spill the batter-filled bowl in her opposite arm. ”Hey, dude. I made you your favorite: bacon, bacon, and more bacon.”

I frowned, pretending to be annoyed. ”No omelets to go with that bacon?”

She slapped her palm against her forehead. ”Oh! How could I have been so dense? Don't worry, Ceel. I'm on it.”

I grabbed the silverware and plates and started arranging them along the elevated bar. Shayna placed the bowl on the counter and lifted everything from my grasp. ”Ah, ah, ah. You have a long day ahead of you. I'll take care of it. Could you go see what's keeping Taran? She promised to help with waffle duty.”

”Oh, sure.”

Taran's room lay directly below mine on the first floor. She liked having the level to herself. I supposed it allowed the independence she'd always sought, all the while keeping us close. I knocked on her door. ”Taran? You awake?” I knocked harder when she didn't answer. ”Taran?”

I opened the door, figuring I'd let her sleep if I found her snoozing. My tigress and I could take on waffle duty if necessary. No need to disturb sleeping beauty. And maybe I'd serve her breakfast in bed. G.o.d knew we all deserved a bit of kindness.

Taran's frilly white linens lay scattered on the floor next to her four-poster bed. Like me, she had a king-sized bed. But unlike me, she'd soon have someone to keep her warm between the sheets. Lack of company wasn't an issue for Taran. It was more that most males failed to keep her interest for long. The bad boys tended to bore her over time and the good ones never seemed good enough. Too bad. Deep beneath her tough outer sh.e.l.l and short fuse, Taran's heart radiated enough heat to warm those she loved. I often wondered who would capture her heart-and if he could handle the love she had to give.

I lifted her sheets and tossed them over the navy comforter crumpled into one giant heap. She must have had a rough night of sleep in antic.i.p.ation of the day. The light shone from the open double-doors to her five-piece bathroom. I stepped in. ”Taran?”

The large open bathroom appeared empty, nothing but a stack of cobalt blue and white tiles on the side wall waiting to be mortared in place by our contractor. The freshly tiled countertop remained undisturbed. A row of expensive cosmetics lined the neatly arranged shelf just above the slowly running faucet. Drip, drip. Drip, drip.

But still no Taran. No . . . anything.

I shut off the water. Taran only rose early to make our seven a.m. s.h.i.+ft start. Shopping remained her preferred choice of exercise, and the stores hadn't yet opened. She didn't take long walks to contemplate the meaning of life. And she knew better than to wander off alone during the Salem Celia Trial. I glanced over my shoulder, hoping against all hope she'd unravel herself from the jumbled mess on the bed.

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