“Listen, Mel’s really sick. And I don’t know anything about a report. Why don’t you come back tomorrow? She’ll likely be feeling better by then, and you can talk all about it.” She used her sweetest, most cajoling voice.
“Nice try, but it won’t work. You have two minutes.” The phone went dead.
Lucy dropped the phone and spun around not knowing what to do. Oh dear Lord, she was in the middle of some sort of crime spree! She’d wanted some excitement, but this was taking things a bit too far. She dared a peek out the window, looking up and down the street for Ryne, thinking he might know what to do, but of course there was no sign of him. Typical man, never there when you needed him! Of course, what did she expect, when he hadn’t even fixed her faucet like he’d promised! Well, she firmed her jaw, she’d just have to defend herself and Mel as best as she could.
Glancing about the small apartment for some form of weapon, Lucy finally found a large carving knife and a heavy frying pan. She was pretty sure she’d never have the guts to use the knife so left it and took the pan instead. Testing the weight of the frying pan in her hand, she took a defensive position by the door.
After what seemed like ages, Lucy heard footsteps approaching down the hall. Flexing her fingers, she checked her grip on the frying pan and braced herself for what might come. The steps paused outside; Lucy took a deep breath and held it as she watched the handle slowly turn. Letting out the breath and taking another to steady her nerves, she waited for the door to open slowly, Instead, it swung inward with enough force to make her jump. Taking no time to think, she swung the frying pan with all her might towards the newcomer. Unfortunately her aim was off and she missed her target, hitting the wall with a resounding clunk.
Before she could comprehend what was happening, something hard hit her across the head and she fell to the ground stunned.
After that, everything was a kaleidoscope of pain, sounds, and blurred images, as she drifted in and out of consciousness. She had the impression of something warm and sticky running down her face and pooling about her cheek where it pressed against the floor. Some instinct for self-preservation kept her from moving or making any noise during those times she was awake. Vaguely she heard a man’s voice talking as if on the phone.
“Aldrich here. I’ll be at the Greyson estate in an hour ... That’s right. I’m inspecting the state of the property and I don’t want to be disturbed ... Greyson’s incommunicado, but if you insist that I contact him, well, let’s just say that the fallout will be on your head ... I knew you’d see it my way. Have the gates open. Remember, no one is to be outside.”
A clicking sound seemed to indicate the phone being hung up, and through her lashes, she watched feet walking towards the sofa. Someone grunted, the sofa squeaked. An arm dangled near the ground... Mel? Was someone moving her? But why? And where to? The man’s voice, hadn’t he said the Greyson estate? The feet shuffled by her. The door shut and the apartment was quiet now.
Lucy forced her eyes open and stared at the tile floor in front of her. How long ago did she see those feet? Had she passed out again? The pool of blood spreading out around her head was much bigger than she remembered. She needed to tell Ryne. He’d save Mel. A hint of laughter escaped her lips as she slowly moved her hand, dipping her finger in the blood. How cliché. This was just like in the gangster movies; she was leaving a message written in blood. G – R – E –Y – S...
She tried to focus, but her eyes were drifting shut despite her desperate attempts to stay awake. Darkness was creeping in again. Tired...so tired. It felt good to quit struggling, to drift away where there was no pain, where no one knew about her past. Hmm... There was a pinprick of light ahead, flickering warmly, beckoning to her. Should she go? It might be nice for a change...
Chapter 33
Ryne trudged up the stairs to Melody’s apartment, his thoughts dark and heavy with indecision, regret, foreboding... It was more than the usual unease caused by a full moon. Young Lycans, in their first year of transformation found the effects impossible to resist, but mature wolves, such as himself, were much more controlled. If circumstances allowed, a wild and raucous celebration of the celestial event was an entertaining way to let off pent up energy. But not this month; at least not for him nor the members of his pack or Kane’s. Circumstances could hardly be less conducive for a celebration.
His head throbbed dully and he was thankful for the bottle of aspirin clutched in his hand; he’d almost forgotten to get it, having spent the last half hour aimlessly walking around the neighbourhood, lost in thought. He’d almost done it; carried out the Keeping. It was the right thing to do, yet he doubted he’d be able to live with himself afterwards. What he needed was real proof that she was turning on them. Possibly she hadn’t told this Aldrich person. Ryne hung onto that faint bit of hope with two hands. If she hadn’t told anyone and she was now a werewolf herself, well then...