Beast of Shadows - Krista Street Page 0,113

ranch just outside of Crescent Crossing. Mountains rise in the backyard like pyramids, and cattle low in the distance. All of the bedrooms in their sprawling house used to be occupied by their four kids, but now they’re guestrooms, a sewing room, and one is dedicated to storage.

I have no idea which room was my mom’s when she was young. Maybe someday I’ll grow curious and ask, but right now, I’m still mad at her.

They help me settle. I choose one of the guestrooms with frilly curtains and a patchwork quilt bedspread and dump my SF bag on the floor.

“I’m going to get dinner started,” my grandma says. “Why don’t you rest for a bit. We’ll eat in two hours.”

I nod. It’s all I can manage. So much has changed.

After she’s retreated down the hall, I pull out my new cell phone that they bought for me on the drive here. My stomach is a jumble of nerves, but I can’t put off the call any longer.

I tap in the familiar number, and my dad answers on the second ring.

“Hi, Dad. It’s me.”

I can practically hear the smile part his lips. “Well, hi, Bri. How are you? How’s school?”

My jaw drops. It’s been nearly two months since I’ve called him, and all this time, he thought I was still in Arizona—at school, hanging out with my friends, working my job, just living a normal life.

The truth couldn’t be further from that.

My heart thumps, and I lick my lips. “I’m fine, but I’m not in Arizona. In fact, I have some questions for you.”

“Oh?” He sounds genuinely curious.

“Yeah, because I’m actually in Crescent Crossing, Montana right now with Bill and Carol Drummond. They’re mom’s parents. Did you know that?”

“Her parents?” A pause follows. “Bri, what are you talking about? Her parents are dead. She was an orphan.”

Some of the anxiety in my stomach lessens when I hear his genuine confusion. “Actually, no Dad. She wasn’t.”

We have a long talk, and I tell him everything I’ve learned about my mother—minus the werewolf part. It’s the most open and honest conversation we’ve ever had, and I can tell he’s as shocked by all of these revelations as I am.

And when I ask him to tell me more about her, for the first time in my life, he does. He tells me about their great love story, the little quirks that made her who she was, the day I was born, how happy they were to have me, and then … her inevitable downfall.

By the time we get off the phone, my heart feels shattered, but I’m certain that he’s as shocked by my mother’s deception as I am. But more than that, I’m certain that he has no idea she was a werewolf.

I didn’t tell him about her true origins or mine. Maybe someday I will, but that day is not today. Because the truth is, I’m still coming to understand it all.

But some of the ice that encases my heart—the ice that has been with me since my mother died—thaws.

“Bri! Supper’s ready!” my grandma calls from the bottom of the stairwell. Heavenly scents of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and freshly baked bread waft into my room, and I realize that I’m starving.

When I join them at the table, I tell them about my dad, then ask if they’re okay with him visiting so he can meet them.

My grandparents share a look before clasping each other’s hands across the table. With smiles in their eyes, they nod.

“Oh, yes, sweetheart. We would love that.”

∞ ∞ ∞

I call my friends the next day as I wait to hear what’s to become of Collin. Most of my friends don’t understand when I tell them I’m not coming back, but a few of them are more accepting. Macy listens and tries to understand. She says she’ll help me clean out my apartment when I finally come back, although that will be weird. Wes assured me that the witches fixed all of the damage after Phoenix and Priscilla made their surprise visit back in September, but still, it’s weird.

I’m so thankful for Macy’s friendship, though. She and I talk a few times a day. It’s a much needed distraction, especially when two more days pass before we hear from Wes.

He calls my grandma to tell her that the date has been set for Collin’s trial. It’s the first news I hear about him, and I cling to everything she tells me.

“He’s been officially charged with murder, sweetheart.” My

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