Cursed (Howl, #6) Read online

  Emma hesitated for a moment before blurting, “I dreamt that the talisman was broken. So, we checked at the storage facility to make sure the talisman was okay, but it wasn’t there.”

  “What do you mean it wasn’t there?” Luke questioned, narrowing his eyes at Emma.

  “It’s gone,” Emma replied. “Someone took it.”

  An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of Samara’s stomach. “I know who took the talisman.” Of course she didn’t know for sure, but it was the only thing that made even an ounce of sense.

  “Who?” Colby asked, raising his blonde eyebrows.

  Samara took a deep breath and stared into the eyes of each of her friends. “Joe McKinley.”

  *

  “What do you mean, Joe McKinley? He can’t just come back from the dead,” Chris insisted, as they sat around the campfire where they always held their pack meetings. The fire blazed in the center of them, illuminating their faces.

  “Why not?” Steve questioned. “Those trusted spirit things are back from the dead. I always knew I would go down in history, but if I ever die, I’m gonna come back to haunt people. I would pull some spooky Bloody Mary shit and haunt kids through their bathroom mirrors in the middle of the night. It would be funny as hell.”

  Samara rolled her eyes at him. “Guys, my grandfather didn’t come back from the dead. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s not what happened.” She paused before adding, hesitantly, “And he has to be back, because there’s no one else who could have taken the talisman.”

  “The talisman is missing?” Chris asked, holding Kyana close to him. He looked genuinely afraid to know that, somehow, someone had taken the talisman out of their unit at the storage facility—the unit that, as far as they all had known, only the Tala pack had known about.

  “Sam, what’s going on?” Seth asked from behind her.

  Samara glanced over her shoulder at him, realizing for the first time that she probably should have mentioned something about all of this to her brother before now, in front of the rest of their pack. Grandpa Joe was his grandfather, too; he deserved to know the truth—that their grandfather was still alive—before everyone else. Their cousin, Kyle, deserved to know the truth, too.

  “Grandpa Joe isn’t dead,” she replied with a sigh, staring down at her hands guiltily.

  “What do you mean he’s not really dead?” Seth asked, his voice twisting into a look of shock. “How is that even possible?”

  Samara shrugged. “I don’t know how it’s possible. All I know is that I saw him on the night of our wedding. He was there, staring at me and smiling. I was going to go to him right away and find out why he was there, but then the whole fiasco with Luke’s mom had happened . . .” She trailed off, trying not to think about the argument that had ensued between Luke and his mom on the night of the wedding when he’d told her the truth about Samara being a werewolf.

  Marnie had flipped out, and she and Luke had shared a lot of ugly words. As a result, Luke and his mom were no longer speaking, and Samara’s parents were angry at Luke for creating such a scene in front of all the wedding guests. It had made the otherwise disastrous night even more of a catastrophe.

  “Why didn’t you talk to Grandpa afterwards?” Kyle asked, meeting her gaze. Samara wasn’t positive, but she could have sworn that she saw a look of hope flicker through her cousin’s eyes.

  “By the time I tried to find Grandpa Joe after everyone had calmed down, he was already gone,” Samara replied. She sighed. “I guess I just thought he was going to stick around or something. It doesn’t make sense why he would let me see him, even if he wasn’t even going to talk to me.” She shrugged, knowing that her pack members probably weren’t going to believe a word she was saying.

  “Wow,” Steve commented. “I gotta admit . . . that’s some crazy shit right there.”

  Seth glanced down at the dirt ground, but he didn’t say anything. He reached over for Penelope’s hand. Penelope rested her head against his shoulder, but she didn’t meet Samara’s gaze. Samara wondered if it was because Penelope knew that Seth was mad at Samara, or if it was because Penelope was still mad at her for not making her a bridesmaid. Even though Samara knew that Seth probably wished Penelope had been a bridesmaid, Samara didn’t regret her decision. Penelope may have been a part of the Tala pack and she was Seth’s mate, but that didn’t mean that Samara had to trust her.

  “But it’s not even possible,” Kyana protested from across the fire, her eyes filled with disbelief. “Joe McKinley was my father’s best friend. My father would have known if he was still alive.”

  Samara sighed. “I know, I’ve already thought about that. I don’t know why my grandfather would keep this a secret—or who knows he’s alive and who doesn’t. All I know is that he is alive, whether Orkos knows it or not.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t just imaging it, Sam?” Josh asked from his place on a log across from her. His eyes were narrowed at her, almost accusingly. “Maybe you were running a fever or something. You even said yourself you’ve been ‘off’ lately.”

  “I was feeling ‘off’ for a while,” Samara admitted, running a hand through her chocolate brown hair, trying not to get too angry at him for not believing her. Even she knew just how crazy she sounded, but it still hurt to know that her own pack member didn’t believe her. “I’ve been fine lately, though. It might be hard for everyone to believe what I’m saying is true, because everyone thought my grandfather was dead, but . . . I just know it’s true. He really is alive.”

  Colby frowned before saying, ever so hesitantly, “I believe you, Sam.”

  “You do?” Samara questioned with raised eyebrows. She was really surprised that he believed her. For some reason, she had assumed that, like Luke and Emma and apparently the rest of the pack, Colby wouldn’t believe that her grandfather was alive, either. In fact, she thought he was the one who would be least likely to believe that Joe McKinley was alive, considering he had probably read just about every werewolf history book on the subject.

  Colby nodded. “Yeah, I mean . . . everyone has always thought Joe McKinley died of natural causes. Obviously, there are others—like Orkos and like us—who thought he was killed. But what’s interesting is no one ever saw his body. No one knows where he was buried or if he was cremated, instead. I always thought that was sort of strange, but I never questioned it. I always just assumed it was another one of the mysteries surrounding his death and that there was more to the story than everyone knew.”

  “If no one ever saw the body, how does anyone know he really died?” Samara asked, a twinge of hope forming in her stomach. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt really surprised by this information. Not that it should have surprised her, considering she’d seen her grandfather with her own eyes on the night of her wedding. Still, it seemed pretty ridiculous that the whole werewolf world was under the impression her grandfather had died, even though no one had ever seen his body.

  Colby shook his head. “No. No one, except for the werewolf who did the autopsy, ever saw him.” His eyes lit up with an idea and he asked the same question that had filled Samara’s own mind. “What if the coroner who did the autopsy lied? What if his whole death was staged and the autopsy was part of some elaborate cover-up to hide the fact that Joe McKinley was or is still out there . . . and still alive?”

  “But that wouldn’t make any sense,” Emma protested, as she applied lip gloss in her compact mirror by firelight. “Wouldn’t people have spotted him somewhere by now? It doesn’t seem possible for such a popular, well-known guy to have stayed hidden all these years. Someone would have noticed.”

  “Unless he had a really good hideout spot,” Colby replied with a shrug. He glanced over at Emma and smiled. “You and I both know how easy it is to keep a good secret.”

  The fire illuminated the wide smile that tugged at Emma’s glossy lips, as well as the red splotches that blossomed on her cheeks.

  Samara rolled her eyes at them. Their “secret” probab
ly had something to do with how they had been carrying on a relationship. What they obviously didn’t realize was that it wasn’t much of a secret anymore; everyone in their pack knew what was going on between them.

  “So, what should we do?” Seth spoke up, but he still didn’t meet Samara’s gaze. “If Grandpa Joe is out there, we need to find a way to get in contact with him . . . don’t we?”

  “He might just show up again,” Luke pointed out.

  Samara shook her head. “No, I don’t think he will. I feel like he wanted me to know that he still exists, but he doesn’t want to talk to me. Not yet, at least.”

  “I have an idea,” Kyle said, tapping his chin. He turned to the rest of the pack. “It might not be easy, but . . . I think we need to find the coroner who did Grandpa Joe’s autopsy.”

  Chapter 3

  As the rest of their pack members left their campsite and Luke headed to his car to get something, Samara turned to Colby and sighed. “I hope you know something about this coroner. You know, like where we’ll be able to find him.”

  Colby pushed a stick through the dirt. Hesitantly, he said, “All I know is that his name is Ed Rickards, and he lives in the Catskills now. At least, that’s where he lived the last time I heard anything about him.”

  Samara raised an eyebrow at him. “The Catskills? Does he belong to a pack up there?” Even though she knew that they had to talk to this Ed Rickards guy, she also hated the idea of stepping onto another pack’s territory. She had sort of hoped that the coroner would be a solo wolf, without a pack.

  Colby nodded. “Yeah, he was actually a part of the pack that I’m pretty sure Jason was friends with.” He glanced up at her, his ocean blue eyes filled with a look of hesitation. “I’m not sure this is really the best idea, Sam. I know you agree with Kyle, that we should talk to the coroner. But do you know what this information could mean for the werewolf world? Or what it could mean for Joe McKinley? If word gets out that you so much as suspect that your grandfather isn’t really dead—”

  “It won’t get out, Colbs,” Samara replied, shaking her head. “I’m not going to tell the coroner that we think my grandfather is still alive. I just want to talk to him, feel him out a little. I’m hoping that will somehow be enough.”

  Emma raised her hand, as though she were in class. “Guys, I have something to admit to you. It’s going to sound crazy, but . . . I can tell when people are lying.”

  Colby turned to her with wide eyes. “Since when?”

  “Since I became a werewolf,” Emma explained. She shrugged, adding, “At least, I think I’ve been able to tell for that long. I only started to realize what it meant the one day when Ashley Everest told someone in class that she got a boob job. Seriously? Everyone knows she stuffs her bras with balloons filled with pudding! They wiggle way more than they should.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head, giggling. “Anyway, when people are lying, I hear them in a really high tone of voice. It’s almost like someone presses a button that turns on an annoyingly screechy sound that only I hear when someone lies.”

  Colby turned to her and asked, “So, if you really have this super-wolf power, does it mean I’ll always have to tell you the truth about things?”

  Emma narrowed her eyes at him, and her forehead wrinkled in annoyance. “Why, Colby Jack? Do you lie to me often?”

  Colby shook his head. “No, I’ve always been honest with you.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There may come a time when I need to lie to you, though. I mean . . . what if you do something crazy like dye your hair pink or get a tattoo on your face? I wouldn’t want to tell you it looks horrible and hurt your feelings.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “First off, pink is the best color ever, but I totally wouldn’t dye my hair pink. I mean, I might get pink highlights or something one day, but that wouldn’t be too outrageous.”

  “But your hair looks so pretty in its natural color,” Colby insisted with a sigh. Samara tried not to laugh. If he thought telling Emma that her hair looked good natural was the best way to convince her not to get pink highlights, he was sadly mistaken. Samara wouldn’t be surprised if her best friend ended up getting them done the following day, just to be stubborn like she normally was.

  “And secondly, the only way I’m going to end up with a tattoo on my face is if fate, or whatever determines where we get our Tala pack tattoos, puts it there,” Emma went on. “I mean, I’d like to think fate wouldn’t be that cruel, but did you see that ugly dove on Samara’s foot?” She glanced over at Samara apologetically and said, “No offense, Sam. I just think doves are ugly birds. I would rather have a flamingo or a hummingbird. Something cute.”

  “What are you talking about? Sam doesn’t have a dove tattoo. Or do you?” Luke asked, even though it was obvious from the look on his face that he already knew the answer.

  Samara opened her mouth to respond, but she struggled to find the right words to say—which she knew only confirmed his suspicions. She expected him to be shocked to find out the truth, but he didn’t actually seem all that surprised. In fact, it almost seemed like he had been expecting to find out something like this—something that Samara had been keeping from him.

  And she had been intentionally keeping the tattoo a secret from him. Whenever they had been alone in the hotel together, she had made a point of wearing socks so he wouldn’t see her dove tattoo, and when they were out and about, she brought along some cover-up that she reapplied continuously so that Luke wouldn’t notice the dove. Luckily, he also wasn’t a very observant person, so the few times it had been exposed in front of him, he hadn’t even noticed.

  Samara wasn’t sure why she was keeping the tattoo from Luke. She just felt like she couldn’t talk to him about it yet, similar to the way that she knew that she would never be able to talk to him about how she had been mated to Declan again when they’d formed the Tala pack.

  Declan. Just thinking about him made her feel empty inside—a sense of incompletion, almost. It still hurt her to know that he hadn’t shown up on the day of her wedding, even though he had promised her that he would be. Chances were that she would have made a different decision that day; she probably wouldn’t have married Luke if Declan had been there, fighting for her. But she had chosen Luke because he had been faithful and loyal.

  Samara tried not to think about the fact that she could have made a very different decision than she had. It didn’t really matter now, because Declan hadn’t shown up on her wedding day and Luke was her husband now. What had happened was done, so there was no use in second-guessing everything now, even though the picture that suggested Luke had killed Brad made that difficult at times. Samara couldn’t help but wonder if she had married a killer—a killer who may have killed out of jealousy and his love for her, but a killer, nonetheless.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Luke asked, his facial expression changing with a look of sadness. “Why did you feel like you had to keep your new tattoo a secret from me?”

  “Because of what it means,” Samara replied, licking her lips nervously. “Well, I don’t know exactly what it means, but because of what it could mean.”

  “What does a dove tattoo mean?” Luke questioned.

  “Emma, I think we better head home,” Colby said, rising to his feet.

  “That sounds like a good idea.” Emma yawned, feigning tiredness. “I’m awfully sleepy, anyway. Goodnight, Sam and Luke.”

  “See you, guys,” Colby said, shooting Samara a sympathetic glance before leading Emma through the woods and to his car.

  A long silence passed between Luke and Samara. She could hear Colby and Emma laughing and then the sound of the car pulling away before Luke said anything.

  “What does the tattoo mean, Sam?” he asked, gently this time, as he came to sit down on a lawn chair next to her.

  Samara avoided his gaze. There was no way she could look into his eyes when she told him the truth. “It’s supposed to tell you that you’re going to fall in love.”

 
“Well, that makes sense,” Luke replied. “You fell in love with me, so it probably has to do with that.”

  Samara met eyes, and she saw the look of hopefulness in the depths of his emerald green eyes. “I guess it could be,” she replied quietly, glancing away from him again.

  Luke stared at her for a long moment. “There’s something you’re not telling me. I can tell. What is it?”

  Meeting his eyes, Samara sighed. There was no reason to keep secrets about her tattoo anymore, now that he knew she had it. “I got it on the day of our wedding. It imprinted on my foot right after we got our marks. It’s on my other foot.” She leaned down and pulled off her sneaker. Pulling back her sock, she revealed the feathery wings, long tail, and the dove head that stared off in the direction of her toes.

  Luke stared at the dove for a moment before meeting Samara’s gaze again. This time, there was a worried look in his eyes. “You don’t think this is about me . . . do you?”

  Samara sighed, knowing that this question had been coming. Who could blame him? She would probably feel the same way if he was the one who had gotten a dove tattoo on their wedding day, instead. “I don’t know what to think, Luke. It’s weird that I got a tattoo telling me I’m going to fall in love on the same day I got our mark, but . . . that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s not about you. Maybe the tattoo means that I’ll forever fall in love with you, every day for the rest of my life.” Even as she said the words, though, she knew that wasn’t the truth.

  Samara knew, deep down, that her dove tattoo had nothing to do with Luke. She just wished that she knew what it did have to do with.

  Chapter 4

  The next day was Saturday, so that morning, Samara did what she knew needed to be done. She called the pack to their meeting location to let them know that they couldn’t wait a minute longer. They had to go to the Catskills to talk to the coroner who had performed Grandpa Joe’s autopsy, and they had to do it that day. The sooner Samara understood what was going on, the better things would be . . . at least, she hoped.