Read Online Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles #2) by Nancy Holder - Free Book Online
Authors: Nancy Holder
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real. Maybe she’d seen it.
Katelyn wanted that book. She wanted to know why Cordelia had lied to her.
And if the Hellhound’s real, I want to know how to steer clear of it.
She didn’t want to be its third victim. Whispers had gone around school that Haley and Becky had died horribly. Apparently Sergeant Lewis had said he’d never seen anything like it and the morgue technician had thrown up when he’d seen Becky’s mangled body.
She thought again about just bailing. And then, as usual, her resolve crumbled when she imagined being hunted down. They might do something to her grandfather or Trick in retaliation. She didn’t know if she was being a coward, or a hero, or a realist. At night, lying on her bed, she stared at the statue of her mother in the moonlight, and wondered what it felt like to completely give up. Her mom would never have given up.
But she wasn’t sure where the line was drawn between giving up and giving in.
~
On Wednesday morning, her grandfather looked at her across the breakfast table with a strange look on his face. He took a sip of coffee and tapped the table idly with his fingertips. “You okay?” he asked.
She sat up straighter and pasted on a smile. “Yeah, fine. You?”
“Same.”
But she looked at him more closely and realized that he seemed tired, more so than she’d ever noticed before. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
He paused while he sipped his cup of coffee. “The break-in is still bothering me,” he admitted after he put the cup down.
She blinked at him in surprise. She wasn’t used to him being so straight with her. Should she have somehow known that he’d been upset? Had the weight of what had happened to her made her oblivious to other people’s concerns?
She sipped her coffee as she formulated her response, remembering her own feelings when she’d realized Justin had taken her phone.
“Were the paintings valuable?” she asked.
Mordecai took another sip of coffee, and light streaming through the curtains filigreed the gray stubble on his chin. “One of them was a landscape I painted for your grandmother. The other was just something my father picked up at an estate sale when I was a kid. No money in either of them.”
He scratched his chin and rested his hand on the table. His face changed, hardened. “The silver belonged to your grandmother, and before her, my mother. I was planning on giving it to you someday when you got married.” Pink rose in his cheeks. “Whole family heirloom thing, you know.”
She stared at him, touched. She had nothing from her parents, thanks to the earthquake and house fire caused by it, and the thought of having something like that was beautiful. White-hot anger flashed through her as she realized the thieves hadn’t just stolen from him but also from her.
“Do the police have any leads? Is there a place around here that someone would go to pawn something like that?”
“Pat already put the word out.”
She reached across the table and gripped his hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered around the sudden lump in her throat. “You know there’s places online where you can buy old silver patterns and things like that. My mom sold some of her stuff after Dad died.”
“Then I’m glad she never wanted your grandmother’s,” he said with a sad smile. “No, it’s irreplaceable. My dad was a silversmith. He made each piece by hand for my mom.”
Katelyn blinked in surprise. “My great-grandfather was a silversmith?”
“Your dad didn’t tell you that? He was a fine craftsman. The shame of it is those pieces of silverware were the only things he made that I had.”
That was when she realized just how much she and her grandfather had in common. They’d both lost everyone, everything that really mattered to them. Maybe fate had put them together for a reason. Maybe someday she could even find him something that his dad had made.
If Mr. Fenner didn’t kill both of them first.
Katelyn had hated
Katelyn wanted that book. She wanted to know why Cordelia had lied to her.
And if the Hellhound’s real, I want to know how to steer clear of it.
She didn’t want to be its third victim. Whispers had gone around school that Haley and Becky had died horribly. Apparently Sergeant Lewis had said he’d never seen anything like it and the morgue technician had thrown up when he’d seen Becky’s mangled body.
She thought again about just bailing. And then, as usual, her resolve crumbled when she imagined being hunted down. They might do something to her grandfather or Trick in retaliation. She didn’t know if she was being a coward, or a hero, or a realist. At night, lying on her bed, she stared at the statue of her mother in the moonlight, and wondered what it felt like to completely give up. Her mom would never have given up.
But she wasn’t sure where the line was drawn between giving up and giving in.
~
On Wednesday morning, her grandfather looked at her across the breakfast table with a strange look on his face. He took a sip of coffee and tapped the table idly with his fingertips. “You okay?” he asked.
She sat up straighter and pasted on a smile. “Yeah, fine. You?”
“Same.”
But she looked at him more closely and realized that he seemed tired, more so than she’d ever noticed before. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
He paused while he sipped his cup of coffee. “The break-in is still bothering me,” he admitted after he put the cup down.
She blinked at him in surprise. She wasn’t used to him being so straight with her. Should she have somehow known that he’d been upset? Had the weight of what had happened to her made her oblivious to other people’s concerns?
She sipped her coffee as she formulated her response, remembering her own feelings when she’d realized Justin had taken her phone.
“Were the paintings valuable?” she asked.
Mordecai took another sip of coffee, and light streaming through the curtains filigreed the gray stubble on his chin. “One of them was a landscape I painted for your grandmother. The other was just something my father picked up at an estate sale when I was a kid. No money in either of them.”
He scratched his chin and rested his hand on the table. His face changed, hardened. “The silver belonged to your grandmother, and before her, my mother. I was planning on giving it to you someday when you got married.” Pink rose in his cheeks. “Whole family heirloom thing, you know.”
She stared at him, touched. She had nothing from her parents, thanks to the earthquake and house fire caused by it, and the thought of having something like that was beautiful. White-hot anger flashed through her as she realized the thieves hadn’t just stolen from him but also from her.
“Do the police have any leads? Is there a place around here that someone would go to pawn something like that?”
“Pat already put the word out.”
She reached across the table and gripped his hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered around the sudden lump in her throat. “You know there’s places online where you can buy old silver patterns and things like that. My mom sold some of her stuff after Dad died.”
“Then I’m glad she never wanted your grandmother’s,” he said with a sad smile. “No, it’s irreplaceable. My dad was a silversmith. He made each piece by hand for my mom.”
Katelyn blinked in surprise. “My great-grandfather was a silversmith?”
“Your dad didn’t tell you that? He was a fine craftsman. The shame of it is those pieces of silverware were the only things he made that I had.”
That was when she realized just how much she and her grandfather had in common. They’d both lost everyone, everything that really mattered to them. Maybe fate had put them together for a reason. Maybe someday she could even find him something that his dad had made.
If Mr. Fenner didn’t kill both of them first.
Katelyn had hated
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