Read Online Second Skin (Skinned) by Judith Graves - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Judith Graves
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and set my wolf loose, my aunt and uncle would pay the price. With their lives.
“This has been…fun. But spell or no spell. We’re gonna get you, girl.” Demonic Marcus pushed the table aside. “Lord knows, there’s more than one way to skin a wolf.”
Attack now! The smell of mint clashed with rotten eggs, and bile hit the roof of my mouth. Energy crackled in the air. The hair on my neck and arms stood on end, even my scalp tingled as if I’d placed my hand on one of those static balls at the science museum. The demons were working up some major jolt of power.
“Cat,” I ground out.
Demonic Marcus tilted his head. “What?”
“I believe the expression is There’s more than one way to skin a CAT !” I launched forward, swinging the cast iron skillet like a broadsword.
No impact.
My world rippled. The kitchen walls buckled and pinched together like I was looking at the world through a fisheye lens.
I staggered in a circle with the force of my swing. I came out of it gasping.
The room smelled only of burned toast and coffee.
Sammi glanced up from her box of Halloween materials. “What’s this about skinning a cat?” Her baby blues were wide with shock.
Marcus, seated at the table, lifted his head from the legal documents. “Did I miss something?” He glanced between us and began reading again. Perfectly clueless. Perfectly normal.
“Omelet anyone?” My fingers white-knuckled the skillet’s iron handle.
Go iron.
Graveyard Dirt, Wax Dolls, and a Scythe
Strapped into Paige’s car, I waited for her to get in. Braced myself for impact.
Not that she was a reckless driver, with a history of crashing into old ladies or wayward signposts. Nope, just the usual early morning/ country music collision. My rocker soul being crushed by Paige’s choice of twang tunage.
Paige, my blonde, beautiful, bimbo-in-the-making cousin, had been sucking my soul dry long before the bounty hunters arrived. Since Paige was stuck driving me to school everyday, we’d come to an agreement.
Her car. Her tunes.
My sanity was optional.
I’d suffer the crossover hillbilly beats in painful silence. Okay, the occasional groan might slip, but…can you blame me?
Sure, I could have hoofed it for the twenty-minute walk to school. The -30° Celsius barely put a chill down my wolven spine. Yup, I could have. If I wanted to set the whole campus abuzz with my freak factor.
No thanks.
Bad enough I had a rep for being Paige’s hand-me-down- wearing, house-crashing cousin. And for hanging with the Delacroix boys and their loyal sidekick, Brit. Brit was much hated at the moment because her cop father had announced last week— to the entire student body—the town’s new 9:00p.m. curfew for all teens.
Adding a physically impossible hike to school in sub-human temperatures would surely get the gossips talking.
And then rumors abounded that the entire Delaroix family, their hermit-like mother included, were off their rockers and believed in— gasp —werewolves.
With half the things that went down in Redgrave, it was amazing the townsfolk weren’t camped out on the Delaroix veranda, begging for help. But thanks to Logan and his vamp- controlled police force, people only questioned things that Logan wanted them to question.
Hence the town having it out for Alec’s family.
Paige’s door opened, and she climbed in behind the wheel. I clenched my teeth to keep my jaw from coming unhinged.
Paige looked…unkempt. Her normally diffused glory crown of golden curls was a frizzy mess, yanked back into a bun.
Good lord, she wasn’t wearing makeup. Waxy skin, dull eyes, and she wore a baggy pair of sweats and an Oilers jersey. Paige looked like a bored soccer mom. Paige. Redgrave High’s fashionista. Wowza. I knew Paige had been a little off since Kate had hexed her memory. She’d been quieter, hadn’t had any diva freak-outs over breakfast, but this was serious. Like life-and-death serious.
“Um, are you feeling okay?” I asked, trying not to
“This has been…fun. But spell or no spell. We’re gonna get you, girl.” Demonic Marcus pushed the table aside. “Lord knows, there’s more than one way to skin a wolf.”
Attack now! The smell of mint clashed with rotten eggs, and bile hit the roof of my mouth. Energy crackled in the air. The hair on my neck and arms stood on end, even my scalp tingled as if I’d placed my hand on one of those static balls at the science museum. The demons were working up some major jolt of power.
“Cat,” I ground out.
Demonic Marcus tilted his head. “What?”
“I believe the expression is There’s more than one way to skin a CAT !” I launched forward, swinging the cast iron skillet like a broadsword.
No impact.
My world rippled. The kitchen walls buckled and pinched together like I was looking at the world through a fisheye lens.
I staggered in a circle with the force of my swing. I came out of it gasping.
The room smelled only of burned toast and coffee.
Sammi glanced up from her box of Halloween materials. “What’s this about skinning a cat?” Her baby blues were wide with shock.
Marcus, seated at the table, lifted his head from the legal documents. “Did I miss something?” He glanced between us and began reading again. Perfectly clueless. Perfectly normal.
“Omelet anyone?” My fingers white-knuckled the skillet’s iron handle.
Go iron.
Graveyard Dirt, Wax Dolls, and a Scythe
Strapped into Paige’s car, I waited for her to get in. Braced myself for impact.
Not that she was a reckless driver, with a history of crashing into old ladies or wayward signposts. Nope, just the usual early morning/ country music collision. My rocker soul being crushed by Paige’s choice of twang tunage.
Paige, my blonde, beautiful, bimbo-in-the-making cousin, had been sucking my soul dry long before the bounty hunters arrived. Since Paige was stuck driving me to school everyday, we’d come to an agreement.
Her car. Her tunes.
My sanity was optional.
I’d suffer the crossover hillbilly beats in painful silence. Okay, the occasional groan might slip, but…can you blame me?
Sure, I could have hoofed it for the twenty-minute walk to school. The -30° Celsius barely put a chill down my wolven spine. Yup, I could have. If I wanted to set the whole campus abuzz with my freak factor.
No thanks.
Bad enough I had a rep for being Paige’s hand-me-down- wearing, house-crashing cousin. And for hanging with the Delacroix boys and their loyal sidekick, Brit. Brit was much hated at the moment because her cop father had announced last week— to the entire student body—the town’s new 9:00p.m. curfew for all teens.
Adding a physically impossible hike to school in sub-human temperatures would surely get the gossips talking.
And then rumors abounded that the entire Delaroix family, their hermit-like mother included, were off their rockers and believed in— gasp —werewolves.
With half the things that went down in Redgrave, it was amazing the townsfolk weren’t camped out on the Delaroix veranda, begging for help. But thanks to Logan and his vamp- controlled police force, people only questioned things that Logan wanted them to question.
Hence the town having it out for Alec’s family.
Paige’s door opened, and she climbed in behind the wheel. I clenched my teeth to keep my jaw from coming unhinged.
Paige looked…unkempt. Her normally diffused glory crown of golden curls was a frizzy mess, yanked back into a bun.
Good lord, she wasn’t wearing makeup. Waxy skin, dull eyes, and she wore a baggy pair of sweats and an Oilers jersey. Paige looked like a bored soccer mom. Paige. Redgrave High’s fashionista. Wowza. I knew Paige had been a little off since Kate had hexed her memory. She’d been quieter, hadn’t had any diva freak-outs over breakfast, but this was serious. Like life-and-death serious.
“Um, are you feeling okay?” I asked, trying not to
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