Bloodmark Page 6

  “What don’t you like?”

  He glanced at Claire, who gave him a dirty look, and he started backpedaling. “No, no . . . you look . . . ”

  “Beautiful,” a broodingly handsome young man said as he stepped around the motorcycle. I hadn’t seen him there. His shaggy dark hair was unkempt around his chiseled face, and his sideburns grew long down his cheeks, perfectly shaped into points, making him look dangerous, even wolf-like. His almost-eerie green eyes were piercing . . . and they made no effort to conceal his surveillance of my body. His smile was an interesting mix of sweetness and temptation. I wanted to reach out and touch his lips and run my fingers over his sweet flesh. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to be near him.

  His obviously fit body was covered in a black long-sleeved T-shirt, spread tightly over his chest. The sleeves were pulled up to reveal tattoos on the undersides of his wrists, but I couldn’t make them out. The tattoo on his left wrist was partially covered by a brown leather cuff.

  I was surprised to find myself desperately intrigued by him, from his dark denim jeans to his black cowboy boots. He was ruggedly handsome. His scent was hard to detect with all the oil and exhaust. I felt my face flush from his insistent gaze. He walked up to me, wiping his hands off on a shop rag, tossing it nonchalantly into a bin as he passed. He reached out his hand and claimed mine in his big, warm hands, bringing it up to his lips as he kissed the top of my hand. My heart was beating so loud, I was certain he would be able to hear it, but he didn’t seem to notice. He looked up at me over the top of my hand. His eyes were a daring invitation I was willing to accept.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, still holding my hand, drawing my devoted attention.

  I straightened myself up. “Ashling,” I replied.

  “Ashling. That’s an unusual name. But seems right for a vision like you.”

  “That’s enough, Grey,” Baran said.

  Grey snuck a mischievous glance at me. “Is it?” he said before winking and letting my hand go. It was instantly cold, and I missed his warmth. “How about you climb on the back of my bike, and I’ll take you for a ride?” He gestured toward its sleek frame.

  Baran swiftly closed the distance and stepped between us. “Beat it, kid. Before I kick you to the curb.”

  “Don’t ruffle yourself, Baran.” He turned to me again. “She’ll be safe with me,” he said, offering me his hand again around Baran’s body. I giggled despite my best judgment, and Baran grabbed the back of Grey’s shirt, spinning him around toward the bike.

  “We’re closing up, Grey. You’re done working for the day, you better get home.”

  “All right. I’m out,” he said. He kicked the bike to life, and a thunderous rumble echoed in the garage, but it was nothing compared to the beating of my heart. “I’ll be seeing you.” He drove off, leaving us in an awkward quiet. I was afraid to speak, for what might come out of my mouth. I rubbed my fingers over the spot his soft lips had touched my skin, longing for him to return.

  Baran was grumbling around me as he collected all my bags and put them in his pewter Land Rover. He closed the last stall, locking up. “Thanks again, Claire. See you tomorrow.”

  “Glad to help you any way I can,” she said. “It was so very nice to meet you, Ashling, dear.”

  “You too, Claire.” I smiled. And with a wave of her acrylic nails, she drove off.

  “You getting in?” Baran asked.

  “Sure,” I said and climbed into the Land Rover. The ride home was silent, except for the grumbles from Baran’s side of the vehicle. I wondered if he typically liked Grey. More importantly, what was he? Grey seemed more animal than human. He wasn’t a wolf, but I couldn’t get his scent. It was masked by the gasoline.

  I had never seen anyone like him. I reacted to him in a way I had never felt before. I felt as though I was encountering a lost piece of myself when I was in his presence. I wanted to . . . well, a lot of things that I wanted to do had crossed my mind in those short seconds. I blushed at the thought. I wondered if I would see him again. I was sure he felt it too. Or maybe he was just getting on Baran’s nerves and it had nothing to do with me.

  We pulled into the garage at Baran’s house. Unsurprisingly, it was filled with collector cars. In the far corner of the garage was a tarp-covered motorcycle. I found myself wondering why it was tucked away like a secret.

  Baran carried my stuff up to my room, and the sea of bags exploded all around the small space. As I began to unpack my new treasures, I realized I had forgotten to buy hangers. That would be a project for tomorrow. Tonight, all I wanted to do was think of Grey.

  The smells of tomatoes, spices, and cheese began to waft upstairs, interrupting my thoughts. I followed my nose downstairs to find a pizza on the kitchen table. I had never tasted pizza. I had seen it and even smelled it, but it was never something we ate.

  “Time to eat,” Baran said.

  “You eat this?” I said.

  “Yes. And you need to learn to eat it too. You can’t just go running around killing livestock and wild game whenever you’re hungry. And you certainly can’t eat humans.”

  “I don’t make a habit of eating humans, for the record,” I said, taking a slice of the cheese-smothered pizza. I quietly devoured it, despite its less-than-appealing flavor.

  “Ashling, there are a few rules,” he said as he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “We have to protect ourselves. I’ve spent many years establishing myself here, and we’re lucky the humans don’t suspect what we are.”

  “Why are you living here? Why didn’t you stay in Scotland with Willem?”

  “The Killians lost their lands long ago, so I followed my sister here, and I grew attached to some of the humans here and stayed to protect them.”

  “But . . . they aren’t yours to protect. Shouldn’t you be in Scotland protecting your humans?”

  The way he stared at me made me uncomfortable. I wanted to look away from his penetrating gaze, but I couldn’t. “All humans are ours to protect; it doesn’t matter if they come from our lands or they are strangers to us. It is our duty to Old Mother.”

  I sighed and stared out the window.

  “It is important that you understand we’re in hiding. For your safety. You can’t draw attention to our primal ways.”

  “Yes, sir.” I rolled my eyes. I was so tired of being told what to do and talked down to like a child.

  “That means no hunting humans. Period. It’s unnatural and against our vows to Old Mother Earth.”

  “But I don’t!”

  “No livestock or wild game.”

  “What?” I said.

  “And no shifting under any circumstances, no running, and we have to eat like humans all the time while you’re here. No excuses for any of them to notice us. There can be no wolf tracks in the woods, either. The game warden tags and tracks the wolf population here. We have to be careful not to disrupt their balance. The humans are delicate creatures.”

  I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Without my wolf form, I was mortal. I would start aging as a human if I didn’t change with each full moon. My pulse pounded, and the hair on my arms stood on end.

  “I know it’s going to be hard for you. But what we don’t need is the game warden all in an uproar about wolf sightings. Or the disappearance of livestock—or worse yet, missing people in the paper.”

  “I don’t eat humans!” I was enraged at his refusal to hear me. I didn’t hurt humans. I didn’t understand them, but I would never hurt them—I could feel Old Mother’s love for them. His insistence that I could be a potential danger to them was nothing but insulting.

  “And another thing—steer clear of Grey Donavan.”

  “So I’m a prisoner? I can’t go anywhere. I can’t shift. I can’t eat. And now I can’t even have friends, even though I’m supposed to be blending in? Is there anything else I can’t do, master?” My icy voice dripped with sarcasm as my emotions boiled to the surface.

  “I didn�
��t say you couldn’t have friends, just not him.”

  “I can pick my own friends, thanks.”

  He abruptly stood, sending his chair flying back. I flinched away from his movements as he yelled down at me. “Damn it, Ashling, I’ve made my decision on this. You will not go hanging around that boy. Do you understand me? This is for your own good.”

  “I’ve heard those words a lot in my life,” I said, silently adding Baran to the list of people I hated.

  “You will listen to me,” he said.

  “You’re worse than my own father,” I said, turning my back on him. The insult was meant to cut him, but I didn’t stay to find out. I went up to my room, leaving him to yell at himself. Who did he think he was, ordering me around like a prisoner? It was as if he locked me away in a tower and there I was to stay. His little pet. If I were such a detested creature, why did he take me in? I could survive on my own. I didn’t need my father, and I certainly didn’t need him.

  I plopped down on the edge of my bed among the explosion of my new clothes. I picked up the ancient journal from Mund and studied its weathered appearance. How could this old thing answer any of my questions? Had everyone gone stark raving mad? It was in ancient Greek and the language of the Bloodmoon. How could it have anything to do with me? I tossed the journal to the corner of the room with spite.

  7

  Sightings

  The next morning, with nothing better to do, I walked across town to Baran’s shop. I didn’t want to see him, but I didn’t know what else to do, and boredom won. It was about a fifteen-minute walk in the brisk, coastal air. I knew now why Baran liked it here—it reminded me of home in Ireland, and I supposed it reminded him of Scotland as well.

  As I approached his shop, I decided to ignore him, and I snuck in to chat with Claire. I enjoyed her endless chatter. I saw her talking to a customer, so I took a seat on the purple sofa in her office. Everything that wasn’t nailed down was purple. The chair cover, picture frames, cell phone, desk calendar—the woman liked purple in an unnatural way.

  Picking up the fuzzy picture frame, I saw Claire smiling back at me with her arm wrapped around a teenage girl with wavy brown hair and olive skin, but she had the same freckled nose and big blue eyes. I leaned forward and put it back.

  “And who are you?” a sharp female voice said.

  The same girl from the photo stood in front of me. She smelled a lot like Claire, but not as tempting, which was good, considering the small space she trapped me in. Her eyes were even bigger in person. She was almost odd looking with her strong features and thin nose, but it made her pretty. She was wearing a light-blue plaid flannel shirt tied at her waist with blue jeans. Her thin lips were pursed together, waiting impatiently for my reply.

  “Ashling Boru,” I said. “I’m Baran’s niece.”

  I held out my hand to her, and she laughed, plopping down on the sofa right next to me. “So you’re who my mom was babbling about all night,” she said, looking me over again, this time without disdain. Finally she smiled back at me, satisfied with her inspection of my blue jeans and black tube top. “I’m Elizabeth Elliot, but you can call me Beth. Claire’s my mom.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You sound weird. Where are you from?”

  “Ireland.”

  “When did you get here?”

  “A few days ago.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “I lost them,” I said.

  “Oh, um, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”

  “It’s okay.”

  “My dad’s gone too,” Elizabeth said. We sat in silence as we both reflected on our joint losses. I suppose that was what made her so sharp and strong; loss does that. A lot of Claire came out of her too, like the never-ending questions and chatter.

  “Hey, so, I’m running some errands around town today. Do you want to come?” she asked, showing the tiniest bit of self-consciousness under her hardened exterior.

  “I’d love to,” I replied.

  “Great,” she said, jumping up. “I’ll tell my mom, and we’ll be off.” She disappeared for a moment and came back smiling. “Let’s roll!”

  I followed her outside to an old, rusty truck. I was pretty sure the only thing holding the bumper on was the plethora of stickers there. We drove around town, running her errands, and she continued a constant flow of chatter the whole time about her job at the café south of town where she waited tables, her mom, and school. Then we stopped at the park to just hang out.

  “Beth, what grade are you in? And how old are you?” I asked.

  “I’m sixteen, and I’m in the eleventh grade. I can’t wait for it all to be over. How about you?”

  “I think Baran mentioned something about being a junior.”

  “You’re a junior too!” She laughed. “I hope we have classes together and lunch too.”

  “I’d like that.”

  The rumble of a motorcycle caught my attention. We both looked up to see Grey driving down the street in a black leather race jacket with white stripes on the sleeves. “What do you know about him?” I asked.

  “Grey?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I met him yesterday, and Baran was clear he didn’t want Grey hanging around.”

  She laughed. “His dad’s the game warden—they live about fifteen miles north of town. He’s one of those guys who’s so smart he’s stupid. Like, too smart for his own good, I guess. I think he gets bored, so he gets in trouble for something to do. He’s seventeen, and he’s in a band. Half the girls in school are in love with him. He’s only ever gone out with Lacey, but I heard they broke up again.”

  “Oh . . .” I replied, trying not to seem as though I cared too much.

  “Yeah. He’s pretty damn hot, though.”

  I laughed nervously. “Are you friends with him?”

  “Ha! Hardly. I don’t think he even knows I exist.”

  I didn’t understand her response, but I just nodded. I couldn’t see why they wouldn’t be friends, but I had so little experience with anyone other than Mund and Mother that I didn’t understand the delicate balance of teenage friendships. “I’m glad we’re friends, Beth,” I told her.

  “Me too. Do you want to hang out on Friday?” she asked.

  “That would be great.”

  “Cool. I’ll stop by around seven thirty.”

  After making a stop to pick up some hangers, Beth dropped me off at Baran’s house in the early afternoon. I didn’t want to be cooped up in the house, but Beth had to work, and I didn’t want to go back to Baran’s shop. Still, I hated being confined. I flopped down on the front porch swing, hanging my legs over the edge, letting my shoes slip off and hit the floor. There wasn’t anything worth doing in this tiny town.

  The wind lightly moved the swing in a smooth and inviting rhythm. I gave in to my buried feelings and let my mind wander to my mother, her beautiful smile—and oh, how I missed the way she smelled and the sound of her laugh. Mund was probably better off without me. He always found himself in trouble because of me. Though I adored him, I was probably his greatest flaw. He always felt the need to protect me, to a fault. He always put everyone ahead of himself. With me gone, Tegan and Mund could finally concentrate on the wolf baby they had on the way instead of worrying about me.

  I knew I had to figure out what to do with the shabby, old journal, but the idea of translating ancient Greek and the language of the Bloodmoon was daunting. But as Mother would say, there was no time like the present. I sat up quickly, hitting my head on something that also seemed to be surprised by the sudden smack. I rubbed my forehead as I studied the blond boy in front of me. He was good looking . . . well, except for the grimace of pain on his face.

  “Sorry about that,” I said.

  “Oh, I’ll live, I’m sure,” he smiled, still holding his forehead. “Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing toward the open spot on the bench next to me.

  “No, not at all, please have a seat.”

  He sat d
own, and after the color returned to his face he continued with what I imagine he had come to say in the first place. “I thought I should come introduce myself to my new neighbor. Well, that was before you attacked me. Now, I’m not so sure,” he said with a wink. “My name’s Ryan. I live just there.” He pointed, leaning in close to my body. I could feel every pulse of his heart, and my throat tightened with the smell of his skin. I leaned away for fresh air. Luckily, he took the hint and leaned back to his side. He was the definition of a good American boy—tan, muscular, blond hair, brown eyes. He was good looking, in a safe way, but he had a contagious smile. He asked all the usual questions. They all did really, as if it were their nature.

  “I play in a band,” he said.

  “That sounds fun.”

  I felt so awkward and embarrassed trying to talk to him. His deep brown eyes were pouring into mine, and he was still leaning too close. I wonder if it were this hard for human girls to talk to human boys. Or if they felt just as stupid as I did.

  “Yep. We practice tonight at seven-ish in the garage, if you want to stop over later and watch me play.” I could plainly see the hope on his face. Despite the fact I head-butted him and I was socially awkward, he still seemed genuinely interested in my company.

  “Maybe I will.” I smiled.

  “It was nice to meet you, Ashling.”

  “Likewise.”

  He was lingering next to me. Did I miss some human tradition? Was I supposed to do something else? My nerves were raw and my palms were sweaty. I just needed to get away from him. “I guess I best get inside.”

  He turned on his gleaming, perfect white smile and walked down the steps toward his house as I went into mine to hide. For someone who knew no one, I sure seemed popular. It didn’t make sense—they should be afraid of me. They should, deep in their subconscious, have a flight reaction to my predatory nature, and yet they kept bringing themselves to me. Perhaps they could tell the difference between the wolves loyal to Old Mother and the forsaken, or maybe they were just blind to what they couldn’t see. We were their connection to Old Mother, and without that bond, it was possible they were as lost as I was. As if we needed one another to survive.