The Calling of the Trinity (Trinity Cycle Book 2) Read online

“Long version?” I dared to ask.

  “That’s a tale best kept for another time. Come on, I’ll walk you out so we can keep up our part of the story.”

  “Do you have your phone on you?” Annabelle asked. I patted my pocket, nodding. “Good. Call me later to check in.”

  “I will,” I told her.

  My stomach coiled in anxious knots when Blaire pulled into Wren’s drive. The Pontiac was parked beneath the big pine tree, the screen door propped open on the porch. “Do you think he’s still mad at me?” I asked when Blaire cut the engine. I gazed out the window, fingers poised on the seatbelt release button.

  “I’m sure he’s gotten over it by now,” Blaire offered.

  “I should have listened to you,” I admitted.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve a lot to learn, but that’s not a fault to you. Your instincts are sharp, despite how I reacted earlier. You’ve a lot of Luiseach’s spirit in you. She too was a bit impulsive, but her heart was pure.”

  “And you?” I turned to look at her. “Are you like Aine?”

  She smiled. “Aine was grounded, rooted in firm beliefs and sensible.”

  Now it was my turn to grin. I saw those traits in Blaire, knew that she was the foundation for which the Trinity was built on–even if the White Witch had been at the front line. The Trinity needed someone like Aine–someone like Blaire. Without her they wouldn’t exist. “What about Conan?”

  “He was a fierce and loyal warrior. He was brave, almost to a fault, but he loved Luiseach for all of hers.” Blaire reached over and cupped the back of my hand with her palm. “This is a hard time for Wren,” Blaire said softly, “just try to be his strength.” She nodded and pressed her lips into a small smile.

  “Thanks Blaire.” I clicked out of my seatbelt and gave the door a shove. When my feet hit the gravel, I turned back to face her. “Listen, Blaire, I know we haven’t had much of a chance to talk since the whole Garrett thing. I just wanted you to know that if you want to talk about Penny, and…” I let my voice trail off. “Well, I’m here for you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, yeah.”

  I pressed my lips together, lifting one of my shoulders. “Yeah. See ya’ later.”

  “I’ll call you after I get Bryna. We can meet up at the cabin.”

  “Be safe,” I told her before closing the door. I crossed my arms over my chest to fight off the evening chill. In the distance, birds and other insects were filling the forest with their melancholy sounds. The sun was setting just on the other side of the trees, and the blue arc of the sky was slipping into shades of rose and gold. I reached for the door handle but Wren was already pulling it open. The pit of my stomach tightened and then warmed, like maybe I’d swallowed a lump of coal and looking at Wren ignited the burn.

  He was toweling off his damp hair and wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with the buttons undone at the collar. He smelled like soap and other woodsy aromas that tangled in my nostrils. Surprise colored his eyes as they took in my unusual appearance, but there was something else there I recognized: hunger.

  My heart leapt. “I’m sorry,” I blurted before he had the chance to say anything. “I shouldn’t have followed you out into the parking lot. I was angry and worried, and I wasn’t thinking rationally. When I’m near you, my mental wires cross and I go into this crazy hyperactive mode to try and be super-Quinn because I feel like it’s my fault you’re in this predicament. I feel like I need to fix things, and in doing so, I only manage to screw things up worse–” He held his index finger against my lips.

  His hands circled my waist and pulled me against his chest. I pressed my fingertips into his back, feeling the straight bones of his spine. Goddess, it felt so good to be in his arms–to have him touching me.

  “It’s okay,” he said, fingertips sliding through the strands of my hair. His thumb found the curve of my jawbone, traced the length of it. He was looking at me now, studying my face with softness in his eyes.

  “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  He gave a light-hearted laugh, the action parting his lips. “You’ll have to be–dressed like that. Every eye in the room will be on you.”

  “Blaire said I would blend in.”

  “Impossible.” He shook his head and pressed his lips to my forehead. When he pulled away, I saw the sadness in his eyes. “We should get a move on if we’re going to get there on time. Do you need anything from the cabin?”

  “No, I’m fine,” I assured him.

  He placed his arm around me as if it were the most natural thing in the world and led the way off the porch. He opened my car door and I slid in. When he hopped in the driver’s seat, I jokingly said, “Maybe we could just pretend that we’re on a date.”

  Wren glanced in my direction, throwing the car in reverse and began backing out of the drive. “I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to go on an official date.”

  “Not your fault. I don’t much care for traditional-style dating anyway.” I cracked a smile, but I was sure he heard the mild disappointment in my tone. While it was true that I was mostly happy to skip the whole awkward first date and forced conversation over a bland dinner, part of me kind of liked the idea of getting to experience something so human and normal.

  “If this were a date,” Wren said, deciding to play along, “where would I be taking you?” He glanced at me from the side, his trademark eyebrow shooting upwards.

  “I don’t know. Maybe to a movie, so we could share popcorn and hold hands in the dark,” I mused. “And after, we’d stop for ice cream. We’d talk about hobbies, and interests, and music and life. But the whole time I’d just be wondering when you were going to kiss me.” I laughed.

  “You wouldn’t have to wonder,” he said. “I’d already have done it.”

  “Werewolves.” I rolled my eyes and grinned.

  He reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “Distract me, Quinn. Let’s pretend we’re on a real date. What do you want to know?”

  I thought for a moment, turning my head as I watched the forest blur in shades of green on either side of us. “I want to know how many girlfriends you’ve had.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Next.”

  “There’s no evading the question Wren,” I scolded him. “You have to answer.”

  “But none of them matter now that I have you.”

  “Them?” My eyebrows shifted upward. I wasn’t naïve. I knew that there was no way a guy as good-looking as Wren with his testosterone-fueled werewolf genetics could claim to be entirely innocent. I saw the way girls looked at him–hell, I was one of them. It wasn’t like he could help it.

  “How many boyfriends have you had?” he countered.

  “None really.” I shrugged.

  Wren made a face, like he was really supposed to believe that. “Come on, Quinn, tell the truth.”

  “I am telling the truth. I’ve gone out a few times, kissed a couple of guys, but that’s it, really. None of them stuck.”

  “Hmph,” he mumbled.

  “Now you answer,” I prompted.

  “By those standards, I’ve never really had a girlfriend either.” He flexed his left hand over the steering wheel, eyes gazing at the winding road in front of us.

  “You are a very difficult person to communicate with,” I said, not bothering to hide the irritation lining my voice.

  He laughed. “I’ve been told that a time or two. It’s probably the reason why I’ve never really had a girlfriend.” He looked over at me and winked. He relaxed into his seat, looking much more at ease than he had earlier. It was like Wren was two sides of a coin, two entirely different emotional beings. I
wanted a life that would bring out that happiness–make it permanent. “Look,” he sighed, “I’ve had my share of fun, but I was younger and dumber, and things are different now.”

  “Do I need to be worried about STD’s?” I lifted an eyebrow.

  “Of course not,” he said. “I wasn’t talking about sex.”

  “Oh.” I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a wave of relief wash over me then. “I guess I just assumed that with you being…” I lifted a hand, waving it as I struggled to come up with the word I was looking for.

  “You assumed wrong.” He lifted my hand to his mouth, brushing my knuckles with his lips. “I’m only yours in that way.”

  “Good,” I said, clearing my throat.

  He grinned. “Can I assume the same for you?”

  “Yes,” I said, “only you.” Always you, I wanted to add… We were leaving Silver Mountain now, passing through the town limits and crossing over on the highway that would take us south to Thornwood. I looked over at Wren, watching the way the last of the evening light played over his features. I stared at the hollow place beneath his throat, watching the muscles of his chest expand as he breathed. Part of me wanted him to just keep driving. We could go until the gas and the money ran out, and then just live off the land. If we made it to the beach, maybe I could open a little shop and sell herbs and potions like my mother had done. I wanted to know what Wren looked like standing in front of the sea–two powerful bodies, both full of wonder and mystery. But then I thought of my dad, and my mood dampened. I could never leave him. Not without knowing he would be looked after.

  “Stay with me,” Wren said, watching me from the side, “we’re supposed to be on a date, remember?” He pressed his lips into a small smile.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I derail easily.”

  “I’ve noticed.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. We kept chatting about life before we’d come to find one another, but the closer we grew to Thornwood, the quicker my heart thrummed in my chest. Wren, for his part, was pretending not to notice. It was my fault he’d been forced to bring me.

  Minutes later we were approaching Thornwood, and the streets and sidewalks were worse than I remembered. We were stopped at the traffic light in the center of town and a group of teenagers dressed in baggy clothes, draped in chains, and covered in tattoos were standing on the corner. They weren’t Supernaturals, but they piqued my alert system anyway. One guy, a teen no older than me, pulled out a switch blade and flicked it open. He was staring at Wren through the windshield, and the others surrounding him dissolved into crude cat-calling noises. The muscles in Wren’s forearms began to ripple with the Change. Black hair sprouted across his wrist as he stared back. The boy started to walk in our direction.

  “Wren,” I breathed, covering his hand with mine. “Drive.” The light turned green, and Wren floored the gas pedal, burning rubber through the intersection. The group of delinquents just laughed as we shot through.

  “I hate this town,” he muttered, shifting the gears with more gusto than necessary. “It’s overrun by criminals and teenage junkies looking for their next fix.”

  “Why don’t the cops do anything?” I asked.

  “They’re paid to keep their mouths shut.”

  “They support the junkies?” I frowned.

  “It’s all about control. If they turn a blind eye, they get a cut of the profits.” A beat later we were pulling down a side street lined by a long wooden red fence. The paint had faded and was tagged with spray cans. Someone had painted a large wolf head with glistening white fangs in plain view.

  “So much for keeping a stealthy cover,” I said.

  Wren didn’t reply. We were slowing now, pulling into a gravel lot that was packed with motorcycles and big trucks covered in mud. Wren pulled the Pontiac in a spot closest to the exit. I wondered if he thought we were going to need to make a quick getaway. He squeezed my hand and I released the air I must have been holding in my lungs. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I lied. A few hours ago I had been ready to kick some ass, and now I was just praying that my knees wouldn’t buckle. Wren held my hand as we walked up the sidewalk. I heard music spilling from the bar and as I glanced up at the neon sign, my Supernatural senses kicked into high gear. My spine went rigid and my ears began to ring. Ribbons of pressure strangled my ribs, forcing the air from my lungs. I’d never been around so many Weres at once.

  “Are you okay?” Wren was watching me, supporting most of my weight.

  I nodded. “My senses are in overdrive. I just need to make contact and then I’ll be fine,” I said.

  “Use the elements,” he reminded me.

  I called on Spirit and Fire to strengthen me and immediately felt the warmth of the elements circling me. I nodded again and Wren twisted the doorknob. At once, the overwhelming sensation crawling over my skin settled. The atmosphere was dark, shrouded by thick clouds of smoke. The putrid odors of cigarettes, urine, and alcohol burned my nostrils. I made a quick sweep of the room, scanning the bar and the pool tables in the far corner, making a note of all the exits, just in case.

  “How can I help you, sugar?” A barmaid dressed in cutoff jean shorts and a black T-shirt bearing the bar’s insignia appeared in front of us. She had short, choppy red hair that looked to have been fried one too many times with a flat-iron. Eyeliner had congealed in the corner of her eyes, but she pushed her shoulders back, sticking out her ample bosom–which was apparently her best feature.

  “We’re here to see Ryker,” Wren said.

  “Really?” she purred as if this were the most interesting thing she’d heard all day. She cocked her head to the side, placing a hand on her hip. I noticed we’d attracted more attention from the pool tables. A couple of big men stood twisting their cues between their large, meaty hands–watching with dry expressions.

  “That’s right,” Wren said, standing his ground.

  “I’m sorry hon, but no one gets in to see Ryker without an invitation… even if they are a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Let them pass Sal, I invited them.” Ryker materialized from the shadows, dressed in a low-cut white V-neck and ripped blue jeans. A thick platinum chain adorned his left wrist, while a leather band covered his right. The bar went completely still. The woman named Sal stepped away from Wren but kept smiling in a rather coquettish manner. “This is Niall’s boy, Wren Whelan,” Ryker said.

  “I know who he is. Caught his scent before the door opened. Sure have grown since I last seen you,” Sal purred. “Got Niall’s look, all right.”

  Ryker stepped in front of Sal and offered his hand to Wren. The men shook, and I did my best to keep my eyes from traveling up to his. I reminded myself that we were in Thornwood now and in a bar packed with Weres–more Weres than I expected. I noticed that the others in the bar had lowered themselves, tilting their head in a way that exposed the curve of their neck when Ryker walked in. They were all back to minding their own now, but a few were keeping close watch from the shadows. I scanned the room, wondering if those who were still watching were in the chain of command.

  Ryker’s gaze traveled in my direction. I could sense his eyes on me now, knew he was appraising me from head to toe. Wren stiffened, straightening to his full height beside me. Ryker grinned. “What’s the matter love? You’re not afraid are you?”

  Blood rushed through my veins and arteries, humming in my ears. I couldn’t help myself; I looked up and met his eyes, holding his gaze as if that alone would answer his question.

  “She’s a pretty little play thing,” Ryker commented.

  “She’s my mate,” Wren growled in a low voice. Sal chuckled and Ryker smiled, revealing large, glistening white teeth and deep-set dimples.

 
“I meant no offense.” Ryker held up his hands. “I just assumed with her being human and all that she was only around for a bit of fun.”

  A sound mimicking a chortle whistled through my nostrils in disbelief.

  Ryker’s attention snapped to my face. “Have something to say?” he prompted.

  “It’s funny,” I said, “you’re talking about me as if I weren’t standing here.”

  Wren moved his hand to my lower back and shot me a look, reminding me to keep a level head. Heat pooled in my chest and flamed in my face.

  “There’s that fire I was telling you about Sal. She’s got more bite than most wolves.” Ryker laughed, rocking back on his heels.

  “That’s bold behavior for a human. The young ones are all reckless and spirited.” Sal chuckled and gave her head a half shake. She turned on her heel toward the bar. “What do y’all want to drink?”

  Chapter Six

  Magic Eight Ball

  “It’s on the house, in honor of Niall,” Ryker said. He put his arm around Wren’s shoulder and turned to face the crowd. “Listen up; this here is Wren Whelan and his mate, Quinn. They’re guests in Thornwood and are to be treated as such in honor of the old alliance with Silver Mountain. Tonight, we drink to Niall’s memory.”

  The bar erupted in howls that sent a shiver whisking down my spine. All around me, eyes were glowing yellow. I looked up at Wren and saw that his eyes had begun to churn with the pulsing current as well. Blaire’s warning about werewolves belonging to a different universe began to take meaning. It was apparent that in a pack, the Weres were more wolf than human. The feather-light pressure of Wren’s fingertips on my elbow reminded me not to gawk as he led me to the bar. A man dressed in full riding leathers got up from the stool and offered me his seat.

  “There are no humans here,” I murmured.

  “The bar is spelled,” Sal explained. “Humans just see an old locked-up warehouse with broken windows. The delinquents try to bust in every now and then but Appalachia over there does a pretty good job of keeping them out.” She nodded toward the biggest mountain of a man I had ever seen sitting at the end of the bar.