Death Wish (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #5)(29)

I busied myself in the kitchen making green tea. It felt too empty. Something was missing. Shaz. It was his favorite room. He was a master in the kitchen.

It dawned on me that I hadn’t heard from him all night. Leaving my mug next to the kettle, I dug my phone out of my bag. One missed call, but it was from Kale. Shaz hadn’t called or so much as text messaged.

With a tired sigh, I punched in Kale’s number and waited. He answered on the third ring. The noise of The Wicked Kiss was loud in the background.

A woman’s voice whispered low but close to the phone, followed by Kale’s low chuckle. “Alexa, hey. Are you alright? I was a little worried when you didn’t answer your phone.”

“Really? It sounds like you have your hands full. Shouldn’t the club be closed by now?” My tone was harsher than it needed to be. Kale, on the phone with a woman in his lap, was not my ideal conversation.

“The doors are closed for the night. This is the after-hours crowd.” The sound became muffled as he moved to a quieter location. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure you’d call back tonight. I wanted to talk to you earlier about a theory I had, but this isn’t a good time.”

“Um, right.” I held the phone with one hand and poured hot water into my mug with the other. Did Kale have an idea as to who was after me? “Well, maybe we can talk tomorrow then.”

“I’ll stop by the club after dark. I have to make a stop at the dreamwalker’s house first. It shouldn’t take long.” His voice dropped as if he didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing him.

I stirred the tea bag around in my cup and frowned. “Why so early? Isn’t that more of a middle of the night kind of thing?”

There was a long pause before he answered me. “Usually. It’s better if I don’t say too much. I shouldn’t have brought you there the other night.”

“Why not? What’s going on?” I demanded. “If he’s in danger I want to know about it, Kale.”

“You have to trust me on this one, ok? I’m not going to let anything happen to him. But, you have to stay away from this. You have enough things to deal with as it is.”

I scoffed and took a sip of my tea. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind. I’ll explain later. I’ll see you at the club then.”

After I hung up, I stood there sipping my tea and pondering what was going on with the dreamwalker. I didn’t trust Shya or his interest in any of us. After watching Falon torture that demon, I was more suspicious than ever.

I wasn’t going to get to sleep any time soon, so I got settled on the couch with my tea and Arys’s past. Though Coby was two floors away, I could sense his presence. Oddly enough, I found it comforting.

I steered clear of entries involving bloodshed and mayhem; so much more lay within the aged pages. Arys had a side that I didn’t see much of, but it was fascinating.

April 18, 1855

It’s been three years since I’ve seen Harley. Still, I feel him everywhere. The tie that binds is breakable only by final death. So many times, I’ve considered giving myself to the sun. And, every time I know I’ll never do it. Not for him.

Once again, we are apart, and I am finally able to think clearly. I plan to enjoy every minute of it. It won’t be long before he makes his way back to me. He always does. It’s been so long since the night he turned me, but it always feels like yesterday.

I prefer to be alone, to play the game my way. I feel like I’m waiting for someone who will never arrive. Passing the time grows difficult, so I seek out other outlets for the growing frustration. Painting. An art form I barely noticed before has now come to mean so much. That thoughtless process requires something deeper than words, thought or basic emotion. I stare at a blank canvas until the space between it and myself ceases to exist. For days, even weeks, I lose myself, surfacing from the powerful pull of creation to find something new and wonderful staring back at me.

Or someone.

The first time I saw those dark eyes peering back at me from the canvas, I wept. Pale, ashen fur cloaked her. A vicious predator, she stared out at me with fear and accusation, demanding I find her. I destroyed the painting. Set it ablaze. I won’t bring her to life again. I can’t bear it.

The unmistakable sound of footsteps outside pulled me from Arys’s past straight to my feet. Adrenaline swept away my wonder at his artistic flare.

It was still dark, though dawn was just over an hour away.

The noise came from the back patio. A heavy tread, paced back and forth from one end to the other. I moved slowly toward the stairs that led up into the kitchen. The sliding patio doors would be locked, but that wasn’t going to stop a vampire who wanted in. And, since this wasn’t Hollywood, no invitation was needed.

I paused on the stairs, listening hard. I reached out metaphysically, trying to get a feel for whoever lurked outside. Vampire, definitely. It was tough to get a read on him or her. There may have been more than one.

I glanced toward the upper floor. Coby was likely asleep, unaware of the potential trouble. The heavy pacing gait continued, and I knew it was a trap. I was being lured out.

Knowing this was just what they wanted, I crept silently to the patio door, threw open the blinds and flicked on the outside light. There was nobody there.

As silly as it was, I checked the lock anyway. They were toying with me. But why bother? Why not just kill me? Or try to.