Home > Heart Of The Hounded (Eden Academy # 0)(2)

Heart Of The Hounded (Eden Academy # 0)(2)
Author: Grace McGinty

I closed my eyes, my breath coming in gasps as I prepared myself for the feel of its jaws on my throat. Its head lowered further towards mine, the monster's breath hot against my face.

Then it licked me.

Instead of the piercing ache I had expected, I felt the warm glide of its tongue over my wounded neck.

My eyes snapped open, but all I could see was the oddly fine hair on the side of its head. My senses started to restore themselves slowly, and I became aware of other things. There was a soft humming sound coming from the wolf-thing's throat, not quite a growl and not quite a murmur; almost like a purr. It didn’t smell of mange or rotten meat like normal wolves or wild dogs. It smelled almost comforting, like the woods; pine needles and damp leaves. However, it was its eyes that were the most startling, the moonlight making them shine inhumanly bright. They stared at me with a look of knowingness, as if he knew all my secrets and pitied me. They were like looking into human eyes.

The monster's mouth moved up to my ear. “You’ll be ok now; I promise.” Its deep voice tickled my face, its English perfect.

I stared at the creature, in horror and confusion, then passed the hell out.

 

 

1

 

 

Five years later

 

I sighed, thinking that if I had to endure one more stare of pity then I might go fucking insane. A small, slightly hysterical voice in my head decided that it would be deliciously ironic, considering the pitying looks of my fellow townspeople were due to the death of my mother two weeks ago from a degenerative brain disease, which had gradually sent her crazy. In the end stages, she’d been barely coherent, screaming for hours in gibberish, or having moments of complete lucidity and calmly talking about conspiracy theories, my biological father, and, most painfully, about me. She would follow these episodes with weeks of not speaking at all, just sitting there mutely staring out the window of the tiny cabin we shared in the mountains of Minnesota.

The tulle of my fluro pink tutu scraped at my forearms, and it bobbed slightly as I strode down the main street, the buckles on my biker boots clinking with each step. While I got the odd side-eye, I’d desensitized this town to my ‘craziness’ enough that no one even commented anymore.

I never enjoyed coming into town and tried to do so as little as possible, but when I did, I liked to live up to the reputation I had fostered. They already assumed I was crazy, due to my mother’s mental illness, which had to be hereditary right? Uh, no Rita, you judgemental old heffer, not necessarily.

So, at some point in my life, I realized I had two choices. One, to watch everything I said and did, so the gossips wouldn’t twist every word to fit their insane narrative. Or I could embrace it completely, becoming everything they thought I’d be and more. Honestly, it was kind of freeing to live in a way where you didn’t give a single fuck about what people thought of you. Want to wear a ballgown to go grocery shopping? Do it. Want to lie on the grass in the middle of town for three hours so you can appreciate the sky? Hell yeah. Want to go out on Friday night, dressed like a Joan Jett wannabe and dance by yourself in the middle of the dancefloor like no one was watching? Fucking go for it.

But still, just being around these people was kind of hard work. This time I waited until I was eating canned beans for dinner before I resigned myself to a shopping trip into town.

It was worse this time, of course, because I was getting much more attention due to the fact that my mother’s funeral had been the previous Friday, after which I had skipped the wake and headed straight out of town, ready to lick my wounds in private. The abandonment of proper funeral protocol had resulted in more than a few disapproving looks and clucking tongues from the older citizens of Roseau today, which was actually a refreshing break from the pity or condescending looks.

The line at the post office was way too long, and I held in a groan. Gloria was the only teller, and she had to get every person’s life story for the gossip files before she could move on to the next customer.

The door behind me opened again, the cold autumn air chilling the back of my thighs. I probably should have doubled my tights.

A throat cleared, and Gregory Staynes from the bank stood behind me in the line. His eyes drifted up from where they were checking out my legs. Damn pervert. “Layla.”

“Mornin’ Mr. Staynes,” I sing-songed in my best dazed and confused voice.

“You missed your mortgage payment. It was due last Friday.” Yeah, last Friday, the day of my mother’s funeral, you piece of poo paper.

I gave him a wide-eyed look. “Did I? My house elf usually takes care to remind me of those, and she said we were paid up til next month,” I exclaimed in a slightly higher pitched voice, and Shit Staynes winced a little. “I’ll be right over to pay it after here, Sir. And I’ll have a good hard talk with Glinda. What’s the point of having a house elf if she can’t keep up with the mortgage payments, am I right?”

Gregory Staynes’ lip curled in something between pity and disgust, like craziness could be contagious. What a fucking imbecile. Bet if I suggested that I’d have sex with him to pay off this month’s mortgage payment, he wouldn’t give a shit about how crazy I was, the predatory dick cheese.

I mentally rolled my eyes and stepped up to the counter.

“Morning Layla, how are you holding up?” Gloria, was fifty-something, and she’d been the post office teller here for thirty years. She knew everything about everyone. She schooled her aging features into a mask of concern, and I gritted my teeth and answered that exact question for the thirtieth time today.

“I’m fine, Gloria. Thank you for asking.”

My tone was flat even to my own ears, but who cared? I honestly couldn’t understand if the townspeople really thought I would lay my wounded soul bare to any person who thought to ask, or if they were just following social norms and saying what was expected.

Gloria rifled around behind the counter, retrieving my mail, and she came up holding a stack of envelopes, which all look like late reminders for bills.

I’d been hiding from that particular problem for the past month. Tanya, my mother, hadn’t left behind any savings and the medical bills alone would have crippled the average person. I schooled my face into an expression of manic happiness, with a grin that stretched my face in an almost unpleasant way, as the way-too-interested Gloria tried to read me, maybe see if I was having financial problems that she could gossip about.

I leaned in close. “I’m going to have to fire Glinda the House Elf. Do you see this shit? Good help is hard to find, even with the fairies.”

I pushed away from the counter, murmuring my goodbyes. There was time to consider my financial black hole when I wasn’t surrounded by nosey townies.

I headed straight for my battered SUV, sighing in relief as it came into view. It had never let me down, and was the one constant in my life these days. Striding faster towards it, I prayed that no one would stop me, but apparently, God had forsaken me today.

Police Chief Tony Hammond waved at me from down the street, his broad face turned up in a smile. He had a round face, pink cheeks and looked like a cross between Santa and every sitcom grandpa ever, so it was almost impossible not to smile back.

My face felt weird twisting into my first real smile in… hell, I didn’t even know how long.

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