Dire Desires_A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan Page 10

  Because of you, the rustling told her and, for the first time, she felt a pride within her that felt right.

  Chapter 14

  The nightmare woke him up again. Rogue considered giving up sleeping for good, because this getting himself back on a regular wolf schedule of up all night, sleep the day away wasn’t working for him. Then again, he pictured hell in most of his waking moments too and decided he’d never be able to get away from it. Not in the near future, anyway.

  He made PTSD look like a walk in the park with the shit he saw.

  Gwen had encouraged him to try to get his patterns back to normal as soon as possible, but she didn’t argue when she discovered he couldn’t. Instead, he would come down to the clinic and help to organize her things. Like Jinx and the others, Rogue had also served in the military alongside his twin, becoming a Ranger and a medic in his company.

  And since Jinx was out of the house, Rogue figured he could at least be useful and take up that role.

  Gwen was doing a lot of research into wolf metabolisms and the like, learning which medicines Weres and Dires could tolerate. In truth, it looked like she was readying for a war, and considering what was happening with Liam, she might be right.

  Several hours later, he had all the new boxes opened up, meds labeled and the second room set up with stretchers and curtains.

  “You must’ve worked for hours,” she said, brushing the sleep from her eyes with her fingers. Her hair was loose, feet bare and she was so pretty. His queen. The woman who, along with Kate, had saved him from a fate far worse than death. He’d be forever in her debt, would lay down his life for either of them.

  In fact, just being in either’s presence seemed to calm him, and neither Rifter nor Stray objected.

  “It’s good for me to keep busy.”

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  “I should go back out hunting. I need to. But it’s hard getting back in the saddle.”

  Also hard, because he knew what he’d find. But the odd part about no spirits bothering him still confirmed what he knew—the spirits were more scared of him than anything. Instead of seeking comfort from him, they ran from him. He hadn’t been lying when he told Jinx he was still in here—hell was a part of him—how could he make it let him go?

  “I was there, Rogue. I saw.”

  “What do you mean, you saw?”

  “I saw everything.” She whispered it and he wondered if her nightmares of the place were as bad as his. “I know what you went through. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now. But you’ve got to keep moving forward.”

  “Suppose I never shake the images? Suppose it never goes away?” He asked it more to himself than to her.

  “You’ve literally been to hell and back, Rogue. I can’t imagine that ever leaves you. But you’ve got to do something with what you’ve learned. It’s what you do.”

  It was. Since childhood, he manipulated spirits into going where they needed to, heaven, hell—but he’d never dealt with anyone who was in that place in between. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “How about with your twin?” she suggested softly. “I’m worried about both of you. I think you need each other.”

  “I was kind of an asshole to him the other night,” he admitted it. “But he started it.”

  She smiled a little and he continued, “Fine, I’ll go talk to him.”

  “Good.”

  “What else’s on your mind?” he asked. “I might not read minds or dreamwalk, but you’ve been avoiding asking me something.”

  “I have.” She looked down at her hands. “Did you mean what you said? About me being both healer and destroyer.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I know about the destroyer part, unfortunately. But the healer—is that just because of the doctor thing or—”

  “Don’t you know the answer to that?”

  “I was born of a Dire with abilities and a human. I have no idea of the answer.”

  “Does it matter?”

  She looked at him with complete honesty in her eyes. “I guess it can’t be helped if it’s here. I just see all of you with abilities and . . . it seems like they take so much out of you.”

  “It’s okay to be scared, Gwen. I’m surprised you’re not spinning with everything that’s happened to you in the short span of time. But you’re taking to all of it—you’re dealing. Whether or not you’ve got it, you’ll handle it. We may not like it, but we handle it. And that’s the most important thing.” He turned and headed away from the room. “Now I’m going to take my own goddamned advice.”

  He didn’t have to turn around to know that she was smiling.

  • • •

  They stayed under the stars for a long time, until Jinx mentioned having to go to work, which Gillian supposed meant ghost hunting. She didn’t bother asking if she could go with him. Today, of all days, that would be a death wish. They reluctantly dressed and went inside. Jinx returned some calls and she paced around a little, exhausted but still wired from the sex . . . and the news that she was a wolf.

  Jinx suggested a long bath and she did that, soaking under bubbles in the Jacuzzi-sized tub for a long time, her sore muscles enjoying the warmth. When she got out, she stared over her shoulder at the bruising on her back, trying to picture how it could actually form a glyph like Jinx’s.

  She heard Jez and Jinx arguing about Jinx going hunting alone, with Jinx saying something about how those dogs will listen to me more than they will you, and finally Jez agreed that staying home to protect her was more important.

  “It’s the most important thing to me,” Jinx had said and that made the vampire relent.

  Now, Jinx was gone but Jez was there, sitting on the couch, drinking a beer. She grabbed a soda from the fridge, because Diet Coke in the morning was the best thing.

  “Rough night?” he asked.

  “A little,” she admitted. “Are you a wolf too?”

  “Hell no.” Jez looked so offended that she nearly laughed, took a drink of soda as he said, “I’m vampire.”

  She choked on her soda. When she finally stopped coughing, she told him, “No admitting things like that when I’m drinking, all right?”

  “Wolves are all so odd. Worse than humans,” Jez observed, offered her the box of fresh-baked doughnuts he must’ve snagged on his way home from . . . vampire-ing.

  “Do you have to hide during the day—from the light?”

  “No,” Jez sniffed. “Not my kind of vampire. I’m sufficiently indestructible, but I much prefer to sleep during the day. I guess old habits die hard.”

  “I’m a wolf, sitting next to a vampire. I’m a wolf who hangs around with vampires.”

  Jez watched her steadily. “You’re not going to have some kind of breakdown, are you? I signed on to watch out for you while Jinx had business to attend to, but he didn’t mention anything about crying.”

  “I’m not crying,” she protested. “Mildly freaking out, maybe.”

  “Want to watch a movie? Dracula? The Wolfman?” he asked and she looked at him, astonished. “That was my attempt at humor.”

  She snickered in spite of herself. Wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It might’ve worked.”

  “It’ll get easier, Gillian. You’re surrounded by good wolves.”

  “What about other vampires?”

  “Tired of me already?” he smirked. “How about some Chinese food? I know a place with great sesame noodles.”

  He was looking through a pile of papers on the table in front of him and triumphantly pulled out a menu like he’d found the prize in the cereal box.

  “You’re worried about Jinx being out there alone,” she said quietly and before he could say anything, there was a knock on the door. Jez moved toward it silently, looked out the peephole and then opened it to reveal a handsom
e, tall man with a shaved head and glyphs running down the side of his head and neck.

  Wolf, the rustling said.

  “Jinx’s twin,” she heard herself murmur, but he’d heard her anyway. Nodded in her direction.

  “I came to talk to Jinx.”

  “Good timing, since he’s out hunting by himself,” Jez told him, named a cemetery in the area.

  “I’ll go to him. He won’t be alone tonight,” Rogue said. “Are you okay, Gillian?”

  “I will be once I know Jinx is all right,” she said honestly and his expression softened. He even smiled a little and she had a feeling that didn’t happen often.

  Chapter 15

  Jinx thought about reaching out to Vice the entire way to the cemetery, but he knew the wolf would insist on joining him, and Jinx couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to Vice. But he’d do anything not to come out here alone.

  It had taken him several rides around the cemetery grounds to actually force himself to park outside the iron gates. Another long twenty minutes of waiting in his truck, listening to music as loud as possible to try to get himself in the right headspace. Ghost hunting was definitely a way to ruin his afterglow, and he’d wanted to stay next to Gillian tonight. Laying all the wolf stuff on her and then sleeping with her and running would make her vulnerable. Maybe even angry.

  As he moved forward and took a few steps inside the gates, a truck rumbled up next to his that looked like it could ride through fire, and he turned to see Rogue climbing out of it.

  Jinx, of course, immediately thought of hellfire and waved for the wolf to turn around and get the hell out, to not walk through the iron gates. But Rogue ignored him.

  “Jez told me where you were,” Rogue called.

  “Of course he did.”

  “He didn’t want you out here alone. I told him we had to do this alone. Get our rhythm back.”

  “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

  “Yeah, I thought that too,” Rogue admitted. Jinx didn’t push him, just grateful to have his twin back by his side. “You didn’t sense me coming.”

  “No.”

  Rogue cursed under his breath, but his ire didn’t seem to be directed at Jinx. “I felt you a little. But we’re being blocked from each other.”

  By what’s out here, Jinx thought, but Rogue would see it soon enough. Together, they walked through the cemetery.

  “Yours here?” Rogue asked and Jinx nodded, ignoring them.

  “They’re subdued. Can you really not see anything?”

  “No. Not yet,” Rogue confessed. “I went out the other night. Got as far as finding some hunters before I turned around and went back.”

  “They’re really still not . . . coming around you?” Jinx asked, perplexed. The Dire house was a ghost – and spirit-free zone, the mare being an exception. But once Rogue hit the outside air, the spirits usually rushed him.

  “No.”

  “What does that mean, Rogue? Are there none? Or are they scared of you?”

  “I’m not sure which option I like better.” Rogue rolled his neck like it was stiff, brought a hand back to massage it.

  Jinx glanced at his brother, the one he’d been closest to for centuries and he wondered if anything had really changed inside of him. It didn’t appear that way, but . . . “If you want to go back. Want to keep not seeing things . . .”

  “Of course that’s what I want, but I won’t go back. It’s my lot,” Rogue said. He’d tied a black bandana over his head, reminding Jinx of their Army days. For eight years, they’d worked side by side, kicking ass and saving humans. There were no trappers to worry about, nothing but pure, unadulterated battle, as they’d been trained for.

  But the ghosts and the spirits on the battlefields, they’d been a bitch.

  “Maybe we should’ve stayed in the military,” he said now.

  “I’ve thought about that. But we already knew Seb. What would be different?”

  Seb. Jinx hadn’t said his name since he’d disappeared, and now it seemed to echo across the field. “Where do you think he is?”

  “I don’t give a shit, but I hope he’s in hell.”

  “I think he’s been there for years,” Jinx said, although the hatred for Seb burned brighter than Rogue’s, which was difficult to do.

  “Good.” Rogue stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. They walked for another thirty feet, were too far into the cemetery for comfort when the ground started to shake.

  “Salt circle?” Jinx asked and Rogue nodded. They hadn’t used one since they were kids, but Jinx figured it would make his brother feel better. He used the rock salt in a wide arc around them. It trapped them, but if need be, they could sleep safely on the ground until morning light.

  The ghosts began to depart, running, yelling. If Rogue heard anything, he didn’t say, and Jinx listened for the sounds of the dogs he’d heard the other night. The hellhounds’ howl came first, and then Jinx heard them running, the earth shaking beneath his feet. And then, Rogue put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes as a shudder went through him, and Jinx figured he’d heard that.

  The hellhounds ran, circling around the salt, whining unhappily that they couldn’t get closer to Jinx. Finally, they sat and waited expectantly and in that silence, Rogue took his hands away, opened his eyes.

  “Aren’t you . . . worried?” Rogue asked.

  “They kind of, ah, listen to me.”

  Rogue’s neck practically snapped as he turned to stare at Jinx. To his credit, all he said was, “Good to know.”

  And that’s when it all started. Out of the woods behind the cemetery came thick black clouds like fast-moving smoke over the graves. They rushed toward the wolves, stopping behind the hellhounds.

  “Keep them back,” Jinx told the dogs, who turned and growled.

  Rogue’s voice sounded strangled when he said, “I think I liked it better when I didn’t see anything.”

  “I hear you.” Jinx stared at the shapeless clouds of smoke, blobs of grayish black, ready to form and take over whomever or whatever they wanted to.

  “They’re fears,” Rogue confirmed what Jez had spoken of the other night.

  “And they’re waiting for us to give them orders.”

  “Order them to go away,” Rogue said through clenched teeth.

  “That’s one thing they won’t listen to.” He’d lose control of them all together. “How bad can it be, having them protect all of us?”

  “Bad, Jinx. Really, really bad.”

  But in the interim, it might be all they had. “Is this all of them?” Jinx asked and the hounds howled. “I guess that’s a yes.”

  “These things thrive on using people’s intentions of evil—they’re not going to hold out much longer without doing something.” Rogue rubbed the side of his head. “They’re trying to talk to me, but I can’t understand what they’re saying.”

  “Hey, I’m their king.”

  “Seriously? This is not the time for formality. Maybe we need a banishing ritual.”

  The spirits groaned and tried to rush forward at Rogue.

  “He’s kidding.” Jinx put his hands out, but the salt was what stopped them. “We’ve got a job for you. Soon.”

  That seemed to make them happy.

  “What are you thinking?” Rogue asked.

  But Jinx had no idea. He simply sat on the ground and lay back to look at the stars, pretending none of it existed. Rogue did the same and as the hellhounds panted and the fears circled them in a tight knot, the twins lay there, protected. Hunted. Haunted.

  At first, they just remained silent. Finally, Jinx rolled to his side so he could concentrate on his brother and refused to acknowledge the other shit around him. “Can you see any other spirits?”

  “No—just the hellhounds and the fears,” Rogue
said. “You can still see the ghosts?”

  “Yep. If any were left here. These things seem to be the fastest party ender in the free world.”

  “What else are you carrying around, Jinx? Any other secrets I should know?” Rogue was being sincere.

  “I killed our father. And although I had nothing to do with him dying the first time, I wasn’t sorry to see him go,” Jinx confessed.

  “I know you tried to shield me from the worst of the abuse,” Rogue told him.

  “It never worked.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, trying is the story of my life,” Jinx muttered.

  “Trying and failing are part of life, Jinx—you know that as well as I do. Dad always had it out for you because you were born last.”

  Because he’d been born at all, Jinx knew. Six minutes younger than Rogue. He’d been told it enough times by both parents for it to echo inside his mind at the worst possible times. He’d heard the words hissed at him when things went wrong in the house, in the village, when he was being beaten for not performing the warrior ways the way his father thought they should be performed.

  But he could handle it. When he heard Rogue being beaten, however, that had made him physically ill.

  It’s not as if Rogue couldn’t hold his own—he was stoic in the face of pain, maybe more so than Jinx himself. But the twin thing—Jinx seemed to feel Rogue’s pain and fear more explicitly than his own. The old saying “When you get cut, I bleed” was true for them.

  The entire time Rogue lay on the bed under the mare’s spell, Jinx had been in hell, a part of him cut off from the world, deadened and yet he felt the sharpened pain of the mare’s claws, the clutch of the markings from hell as they crawled up Rogue’s face and head.

  He’d told no one—hadn’t even hinted it to Vice. He wouldn’t have been surprised to wake up in the morning to find matching markings on his face. But since Rogue had them, they were both connected to hell forever.

  Not that they hadn’t been before. Anyone who could see ghosts and spirits had connections to heaven, hell . . . and now purgatory.