A Shifter's Curse, Raven Steele [the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT] 📗

My eyes opened to a blurry world. Smudges of grays and browns, specks of green. I closed my eyes and moaned. My head throbbed, but I still tried to sit up. Waves of dizzying pain rocked my body, and I moaned, gripping onto the kitchen counter to pull myself upright.

I forced my eyes to open again. It took a few seconds for my vision to clear through the tears stinging my eyes. The liquid leaking wasn’t because I was crying, it was because, I remembered now, Samira had smashed my face, knocking me out cold.

Blinking several times, my vision finally cleared. Samira was standing over Lynx at the kitchen table, rubbing something onto the cuts on Lynx’s face. Her thinly wired glasses were back on her face.

I clutched my head and slowly climbed to my knees. “That was some punch.”

“And you’re some friend.” Samira’s murmur cut through my pain.

“It’s not her fault,” Lynx said, trying to defend me. She winced when Samira touched a cut over her eyebrow. “I told her to do it. I’m sure if I didn’t, she wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

My heart skipped a painful beat. I wish that was the case, but I wasn’t so sure.

“Why would you want to get hurt this way?” Samira asked. She brought her finger to her mouth and bit down on it. Blood dripped from the tip. She pressed it onto another cut on Lynx’s forehead.

“My mother. I think she set this up to prove my loyalty to the Morgans. She’s done stuff like this before.”

“Why don’t you run away?” I asked. “Just leave this crappy city and all the people in it.” I pushed upward to my feet, placing my hand on the wall to steady myself.

“Family of witches, remember? There’s very little we can’t do now that we are a full coven of twelve. I’ve got this cousin that can track anyone…” She cleared her throat quickly. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll see I passed her stupid test and leave me alone for a while. It was worth it.”

“One should never allow themselves to be controlled, whether by family, friends, or,” Samira glanced my direction, “revenge.”

Damn. She was insightful.

I walked over to them, still a little dizzy. Several of the cuts on Lynx’s arms had already healed from Samira’s blood, but the knife wound in her shoulder continued to ooze blood.

Samira followed my gaze. “That one is too deep for me to heal. I don’t want to give her too much of my blood, or she’ll start to crave it.”

“I didn’t do that one.” My voice caught as I remembered how Dominic hadn’t even blinked when he’d shoved the knife deep into her shoulder. I cleared my throat and slumped into the chair next to Lynx.

“Can all vampires heal?” Lynx asked Samira.

“No. Only a few have the gift.”

“Lucky you, or really, lucky me.”

“I am not a true healer,” she explained. “All vampire blood can heal small wounds, but it takes a rare kind of power to heal someone entirely. I have only met two vampires with this unique gift. It’s too bad they never used it for good.”

No one said anything else while Samira healed the rest of her wounds. Lynx was too pale and tired, I was too guilt-ridden, and Samira was too pissed. She kept glaring at me every time she healed a new cut.

When it was done, Lynx rose to her feet. “Thank you, Samira. And don’t worry about the one on my shoulder. You at least sealed it. Tomorrow, after I rest, I’ll heal it myself the rest of the way.” She lowered her gaze to me. “Don’t let this eat at you. It had to be done, not just for me, but for you, too. I could tell joining the pack was important to you. I don’t know why, but don’t let them get inside your head. Remember who you were when you came to Rouen.”

I nodded. “Can I help you to your room?”

“My legs still work, but thank you.”

She left us alone in the kitchen. Samira walked to the fridge and removed her “tomato” juice. She drank it all in one swig and sat down at the table with me.

“Help me understand why you did this.” Her voice still held a note of raw anger.

I rubbed the back of my neck, mindful not to touch my face. “It’s complicated.”

“More like dangerous. The pack’s reach is far and wide. Whatever you’re attempting, it will only get you, or someone close to you, killed. Believe me, I’ve seen it.”

“Then why are you working with them?”

She searched my eyes, not answering for a long time. Finally, she spoke. “Let’s just say,” she began, her words grazing the truth, “that I am trying to learn as much as I can about Dominic’s network.”

“Why?”

“Because there are whispers of something great and terrible coming to Rouen.” Her normally steady eyes flickered a fraction of a second. Had I not been a shifter, I wouldn’t have caught the motion. “I believe Dominic has information about this growing evil.”

“What kind of dirty ass answer is that?” I grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and dropped a few into my mouth, swallowing them without water. I was hoping it would stop the buzzing sound in my head.

“For now, that is all I am giving.”

Her eyes remained firm. I wouldn’t get any more information out of her but at this point, maybe it didn’t matter. We both wanted the same thing.

“Your turn,” she said. “Why did you seek out the Silver Claws?”

“I want to put their balls in a vice, especially Dominic and Silas, and watch while their world lights on fire. Then I’ll squeeze that vice until they’re bled dry.” The sound of my voice, the raw anger and pain, gripped my spine in a violent chill.

“Why would you want this?”

I shook my head. “You keep your truth, and I’ll keep mine. We are on the same side. That’s all that matters.”

She pointedly looked toward Lynx’s room. “We may want the same thing, but we are not on the same side. Doing evil in the name of honor can never be justified. It took me years to learn this, and I will never forget the lesson.”

“I never said I was honorable.”

Her head cocked to the side abruptly. “Someone’s here.”

I came to my feet, my eyes darting around the kitchen for a knife.

“It’s for you.” She rose from the chair but didn’t look alarmed. “It’s almost dawn. I must rest and rejuvenate myself. My cells have been depleted.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

She disappeared just as I heard a knock on the rear kitchen door. I pulled the curtain aside. My uncle stood in the shadows of the covered porch, his eyes downcast. I opened the door, rubbing at my arms at the sudden gust of cold air.

“You look like you got the crap beaten out of you,” he said.

“I did, but it was nothing I didn’t deserve.” I stepped out onto the porch and, after closing the door behind me, dropped into a plastic chair. “Tonight, they had me torture my roommate.”

He joined me, lightly settling himself into the adjoining chair. “I was