Midnight Guardian Read online

  My thought was that he wanted Jarrod because he was young and could easily be trained as a mindless zombie, but no, the fucker had to bite me before I killed him. That fucking bite! It changed everything. The other wolves couldn’t kill me because I was their damn future Alpha since I had killed the dickhead.

  So they simply knocked me out and dragged me back to council headquarters where I spent a year and a half of my life, trying to move on from the night I lost all my family and my world changed forever.

  I brush away the unbidden tears that have started to fall and groan in absolute frustration when someone starts banging on the door.

  “Fuck off!” I shout out, leaning over the bed and taking in a deep, controlled breath.

  I’m not in the mood for anyone’s shit right now. I’m being sucked back into memories I’d rather forget. I need silence or to hunt. If this person doesn’t go away, it may make me think hunting on campus is a fucking excellent idea!

  “You need to open the door! You were screaming! I need to see you’re safe!” It’s the same fucking guy from earlier! Can he not take a fucking hint?

  I jump from my bed, stomp to the door, and drag the desk away. I yank the door open with enough force that it almost becomes unhinged.

  The guy in the hall is shirtless and backs up a step when he sees the rage on my face.

  A few other doors are open, but when they catch sight of my expression, they immediately back into their rooms and close the door as if they saw nothing. At least some people in this place are smart.

  “Well?”

  “Sorry, but you screamed, and I wouldn’t have felt right not checking on you,” he explains, but he looks like he wishes he would have just walked away after I told him to fuck off.

  I throw my hands up in frustration, then gesture down to my body in annoyance as his gaze roams over me.

  “See? I’m fine. I just had a damn nightmare! Now, will you leave me the fuck alone?” I don’t give him a chance to answer before stepping back and slamming the door in his face.

  “Rude bitch,” I hear him mutter on the other side of the door. He knows full well I’d hear it. All supe hearing is fucking fantastic.

  I grin, though, glad he’s finally getting the message. Throwing myself back on the bed, I check the time and realize it may be a little earlier than usual, but I need to hunt right now.

  All this pent-up energy in a school full of supes is not something I need. I can feel the urge to feed and kill rising quickly, as well as the urge to fuck. Maybe tonight I might play with my food a little.

  A smirk stretches my lips. Yes, it sounds absolutely delightful to play with my food. Maybe after I take my fill, I can find someone to help ease up this sexual tension too.

  Chapter Six

  Quinn

  A grin tugs at my lips as Tristan races around the backyard, his eyes filled with excitement. Though he acts like nothing more than a child, he is well and truly mature at twenty-five years old but sadly his mental maturity isn’t quite as caught up as his looks.

  This house has been a major asset in keeping our young ward safe and hidden. We only bring him outside if one of us is able to supervise him and ensure he doesn’t run away. Sure, there have been nights where he’s slipped away in the darkness, but he was always found before he did something we would be forced to cover up.

  Tristan may be a little mentally challenged due to his past, but we do the best we can to help him remember who he is when he needs it. His past is not one filled with fun memories, particularly when he has chilling nightmares on how his supernatural side presented itself.

  After twenty-one years of no supernatural ability, his mother feared for his safety and did the unthinkable. She tried to turn him herself and, well, it led to him changing into the last supernatural a wolf shifter mother expects her child to turn into—a vampire. Upon turning, Tristan went feral and nearly wiped out a movie theater full of innocent humans.

  That was the moment the council had to step in. Only at the time, Tristan’s older brother Drake was a member of the council’s execution squad, and when faced with the difficult task of killing his brother, he couldn’t do it. The council demanded to know who had changed Tristan, and his brother stepped up, trying to stop the punishment that would come down on their mother.

  But Mary couldn’t let either of her sons suffer for her mistake, and so she sought out the council. But instead of being merciful, they ruled that Mary had to die to pay for her sins. She knew it was against the council’s highest laws to turn a supe that was a null, but she did so anyway. And to punish Drake, it was voted he would be the one to do it. Kill his mother, and save his brother, or the council killed them both, those were his options.

  Needless to say, he chose the option with less death and killed his own mother, but the council being the cruel people they are, forced Tristan to watch it all happen. Since then, Tristan’s been a mess. He doesn’t trust anyone anymore, he hates his brother, and he’s lonely. He regressed into the mind of a child to protect himself.

  When Drake was called away by the council almost two years ago, it had only been a year since everything had happened with Tristan and their mother. Tristan was nowhere near healed mentally, and it didn’t appear he would be anytime soon. Drake being around seemed to be the trigger for the rage within Tristan, so when he left, I thought maybe it would do them both some good. And while Tristan seems to have a little more control than when he first turned, he’s still completely unpredictable.

  We only really let him out of the house once a week to burn off the buildup of energy being confined creates. It’s also the only time we allow him to feed.

  Tristan flits to a stop in front of me with an eager grin. “Can I come with you to school tomorrow? Please, please, pretty please?” he begs eagerly, before rushing to add, “I promise I’ll behave and won’t attack anyone. I’ll be good, I’m just tired of these four walls.” His expression falls with sadness.

  My heart bleeds for him and the struggle his life has become. We try to let him out as often as we can, but as instructors at Midnight Society, we each have classes to attend to. On days when we’re all instructing a class, Tristan has no option but to be locked away for his safety, and ours. We can’t have him attend any classes but our own, because he just doesn’t seem to be able to mentally cope with all the other newly turned.

  We thought that maybe enrolling Tristan in classes with the newly turned would be healthy for him and encourage him to make friendships, but that didn’t go anywhere near as well as we hoped.

  We could tell he was close to an explosion the whole day, but no matter how many times we tried to coax him home, he refused. He’s so damn stubborn that we let him stay, an action we later regretted when he almost killed a classroom full of students that none of us were instructing.

  From then on, we were informed by the head administrators that the only way he could be on campus was if one of us was with him. He had to be watched, and since we mostly instruct, he only ever got to join our classes, not really explore.

  “Sure, Tris, you can come to Midnight. Jesse doesn’t have any classes tomorrow, so he can take you around.”

  “Yessssssssss!” He grins up at me before running off to find the man in question, no doubt to gloat that I’ve instilled Jesse with babysitting duty without asking. Not that Jesse will mind. He knows this dynamic of ours won’t work unless we all pitch in. If one of us has a free day, we always use that time with Tristan to ensure we keep him as levelheaded as possible.

  As I watch Tristan bouncing around excitedly like he’s nothing more than a toddler, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. Frowning, I reach for it, unsure just who would be calling today. It’s Sunday and a day where only a few classes are taught, which none of us are required for. The only people who would call me otherwise are all here. Well, Marcus isn’t but he’d simply drop by if he needed to talk.

  When I see the name that flashes on the screen, I simply stare at it until it sto
ps ringing, hesitant whether to answer the call or not. Once upon a time, I would have answered in a heartbeat, but things are different now.

  Drake left us, and while he called every day for the first month, he grew more and more distant each day until finally, the goodbye call came.

  He begged me to look after Tristan indefinitely because he wasn’t coming back anytime soon. He told me his job with the council was far too important for him to just pack up and leave, but that one day he would be back. Though as months passed, we all grew to resent him for leaving us.

  We were supposed to be family. A pack, able to withstand anything, but apparently the council had its claws in him deeper than any of us could have ever imagined.

  When the phone rings again, I walk away from the others, ensuring none of them can hear the conversation that’s about to go down. Just because Tristan has outwardly accepted that his brother left him doesn’t mean he’ll be happy to hear from him now.

  “What do you want?” I growl down the line angrily. It’s been just over a year without contact, and now he’s calling out of the blue. If he’s calling me, then he must have fucked up and needs help, or the council has kicked his ass out and he wants a place to come back to. Even if he owns the house we live in, he knows better than to just turn up.

  I hear a grunt a moment before Drake’s voice comes through the line, filled with pain. “Hey, Quinn. It’s been a while since we last talked, huh?”

  Did he honestly just call to fucking chitchat? Why on earth does he think it’s okay to call and act as if no time has passed? As if he didn’t abandon us?

  “Yeah, almost two years since you turned your back on your pack and a year since you last called to tell us you couldn’t come back. So why the fuck are you calling now? Council finally got tired of your bullshit?”

  There’s a moment of silence before he growls out a response. “Look, you can be pissed at me, hell, you’d be a fool if you weren’t. But I no longer work with the council. I want to come home and visit Tristan.”

  My lips thin at the very thought. Tristan has done remarkably well this past year. I’m not sure what Drake being back in his life would do to the poor guy. I’d like to think Tristan would be reasonable about seeing his brother, but considering the reasons why Tristan went off the deep end, I don’t think Drake can just show up.

  “Look, that’s not my decision to make. You left him after killing your mother. Whether it was a choice between only her or both of them, it’s a moot point. Rather than stay behind and try to explain the reasons behind your choice when he was in a lucid state, you just up and left at the whim of the very people who forced you to murder your mother in cold blood. If you want to visit, then you’re gonna have to ask the brother you abandoned for permission.”

  I glance up, noticing Adrian has come closer. He can obviously hear every word being said and he just grins at my words. I’m sure he, too, believes that this decision is for Tristan to make.

  Holding a hand over the phone, I call to Tristan. “Hey, Tris, you mind coming over here for a second?”

  Jesse glances up as Tristan flits over to my side with a grin. “What’s up?”

  Damn, he’s so happy that I almost don’t want to tell him his brother is on the phone. Still, I do. “Tris, Drake is on the line. He would like to talk to you.”

  His whole body goes still, but he still unfreezes enough to hold out his hand. The others all trickle over slowly as we watch Tristan.

  “What do you want?”

  I shiver from the venom in his tone. I used to wonder where the saying, “If looks could kill” came from, but this moment, right now, with the pure rage emanating from Tristan, I understand.

  After a few words from Drake, with Tristan only growing angrier by the second, I wonder whether I should have denied him this chance to speak with his brother.

  Finally, after a few more minutes, Tristan speaks. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t care if you want to explain, that time is gone. Maybe there will come a time when I forgive you for killing our mother, for abandoning me here like I was nothing more than trash, but it isn’t now. Goodbye, Drake.” He hangs up the call, handing me my phone back with a smile. “Who wants to play a game?”

  I simply shake my head as he bounds off before one of us can respond, and I feel relief course through my veins that he didn’t snap. As Adrian and I walk after him, I look around at our small family, glad that I’ve been able to keep us together so far. If Drake came back, well, I’m certain it would all just fall apart.

  “You know Drake won’t just let it go, right?” Adrian murmurs at my side.

  “I know, but if he dishonors what Tristan wants, then he’ll have to deal with the fallout.”

  Adrian nods and hurries to catch up to Tristan. They have developed a strong friendship, but it’s still hard most days. Tristan is the most volatile supernatural in existence. While he pretends he’s calm and stable, we all know a monster resides under his skin just waiting to attack and kill all in his way. The last thing we need is Drake returning and setting off the bomb that is Tristan. Because if that happens, I truly don’t know if we’d be strong enough to stop him.

  Chapter Seven

  Isobel

  After relieving myself, I rifle through the clothes on my shelf for my hunting uniform. Well, it’s not technically a uniform per se, more like a matching black tank and capris, but considering it’s easier to conceal blood on black clothing, and they’re generic labels so they’re easily replaceable, it makes them that much more lovable.

  My hunting boots, however, are rare. I found them in a goodwill two months before I left the council compound, and they fit me like a glove. Not to mention the beautiful straps on the side that are the perfect place to slide a couple of daggers in.

  I’ve thought about buying a new pair, but no matter how many stores I look in, I haven’t found any others that even remotely resemble them. And while they reek of blood and death to most people, they feel like heaven on my feet.

  Once I’m all dressed to go, I consider grabbing my lucky jacket, but sadly it needs stitching. It got a tear on the right arm during the last fight I had it on. And it, like the shoes, is irreplaceable to me, but for other reasons. It was the first jacket Jordan gave me after I shifted back from wolf to human. It has more sentimental value to me than I care to admit.

  Before I grab some weapons, I study my reflection in the small mirror on the door to the toilet, smiling at how hunter chic I look. With my dark hair, vibrant blue eyes and pale skin I look very much like a ghost but unlike other paler people, I think the black suits me.

  Most probably look at my outfit and think I’m a little weird and rejecting color, but the simple truth is, I need to blend in to the dark. Since I’m in a new town, it’s not a good idea to shift until I know my way around the streets. Humans are less likely to freak out if they see a girl in dark clothes roaming the roads rather than a black bear, an arctic fox, a black wolf, or an African lioness. If they saw any of my animals, they’d lose it and call animal control, which is the last thing I need. So hunting as a human it is.

  As I go through the list of weapons to take tonight, I consider grabbing my specially made gun holster, hesitating simply because it’s more for wearing a dress or skirt, something lethal that can easily slip between my thighs, leaving any attackers unaware of just how deadly I am.

  Instead, I grab two daggers from their hiding spots and put one in each boot, weaving them into the straps like only a pro can.

  Drake used to laugh at the fact smaller blades are my favorite weapons, but when I reminded him that it was a smaller weapon than these that took out their Supreme Alpha, he shut up pretty quickly.

  I wiggle them around to make sure they’re firmly in there before standing and stepping back and forth to check their weight, and ensure they won’t slip out with movement. It would suck to lose one because of carelessness.

  Once I’m satisfied they’re secure, I inspect my gun to make sure
the safety’s on before tucking it into the back of my pants. The last thing I want is to shoot myself in the ass. Even if I heal almost instantly now, it would be a pain in the ass—literally.

  Rather than take a variety of clips with me, I simply load the gun with the bullets stained in my blood and grab an extra clip of lead bullets then shove it in my pocket. I doubt I’ll need more than that. As it is, I don’t really need the weapons, they’re just a security blanket from before I learned how to control my vampire side without shifting.

  When I first turned, I had no flipping clue how to control the different supernatural abilities that reside within me. But now, not only can I change on demand, but I also have the skills of a vampire and witch too. The only powers I don’t fully understand are the ones that come with being a witch. Some days they are effortless, while others I curse the fact I even have such abilities. It doesn’t help that I still can’t control the darkness that leeches into my soul when I do use them. That draw to continue using them and let them overtake me is so addicting it’s dangerous.

  Strapped and ready to go, I grab one of my paperclips, wedging it in the door before I leave. Sounds paranoid, I know, but you’d be surprised by the number of people who will try to snoop on you. I guarantee this place is no different.

  It’s one of the reasons I hide all my weapons when coming to a new place. It just makes sense. Besides, when someone does try to take a weapon of mine, they’ll be pleasantly surprised by the word “Thief” as it brands into their forehead. It’s a neat little curse a witch helped me with before I left the compound. She owed me a favor, and I wanted to be sure none of the council or its enforcers tried to take property that was mine. So, she spelled them all for me. Only I can handle them, or someone I consider mine, like Drake and Jordan. Although I should probably figure out a way to stop those two from having access. It wouldn’t do any good if they showed up and were able to take my weapons from me without a fight. Maybe there’s a witch here who may have a little insight?