The Midnight Hour: A Violet Hour Series Novella (Book 0.5) Read online

The Midnight Hour

  Written By:

  Andrea L Wells

  ISBN 978-1-5186-4560-0 Paperback

  ISBN 978-1-4958-0715-2 eBook

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number:

  Copyright © 2015 by Andrea L Wells

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in any form, or by any mechanical or electronic means including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, in whole or in part in any form, and in any case not without the written permission of the author and publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  “There is no friend as loyal as a book.”

  - Ernest Hemingway

  This is dedicated to all my friends -

  humans and books.

  “Everything ends in death, everything.”

  Leo Tolstoy – War and Peace

  Andrea L Wells – The Midnight Hour

  Chapter 1

  “This is going to be painful,” I mumbled quietly to myself. I knew they were close. I could taste their royal stench on the tip of my tongue.

  “Mom, what time do you want me home?” Logan yelled from the top of the stairs.

  I choked back a deep sob that rumbled in my chest. Was that the last time I’d hear the sweet sound of my only child calling me Mom? Could I really go through with this?

  “Come down to the kitchen so we can discuss it, please,” I replied, placing my hands on the granite countertop in an attempt to cool my sweaty palms.

  I’d spent months, years even, convincing myself that this was the right thing to do that Logan would forgive me. But now that the day had arrived and Xavier was on his way to our home, I wasn’t so sure.

  Logan stepped around the corner. She was such an intensely gorgeous child. Every parent always thinks their child is the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen but Logan took my breath away. It all started with her eyes. My own mother used to say, ‘the eyes are the window to a person’s soul.’ If that was the case, Logan’s soul was a vibrant teal-blue sea of courage, strength, and a glint of mystery. Her sun-kissed skin accentuated their intensity like that perfect beach shoreline. Her blonde hair, a mix of surely over a thousand golden shades, was pulled up in a tight bun for the evening.

  These were all the things the world noticed about Logan at first glance. It was surely what Hollywood was constantly buzzing about, including her perfectly proportioned body. But beneath the glamour, was a being like no one I’d ever met before.

  She was our only child; born to two immortal werewolves, and heir to a powerful title – Alpha. Logan didn’t know it, but on her eighteenth birthday, she would begin a new life. Her father and I had yet to give her any details.

  “Mom?!”

  Though startled, I was grateful she called me ‘Mom’ again. “Sorry,” I offered dismissively.

  “Brody should be here any minute. What time do you want me home?” she pressed in her best I’m-a-teenager-trying-to-be-polite tone.

  As she stood impatiently before me, I watched Kevin’s perfect smile spread across her face. Her father was devastatingly handsome in a rugged kind of way. His looks, charm, and personality would have made him extremely successful in Hollywood had he come to California with Logan and I. Not for the first time, I regretted that he’d stayed in Wyoming.

  “Are Brody’s parents’ home this evening?” I questioned.

  “Why does that matter?” Logan immediately fired back.

  I knew Logan was still a virgin and like some teenagers, it bothered her. Hence her edgy-attitude-filled reply. I told her I was proud of her for choosing to wait, which she hated to hear but semi-agreed that it never felt like the right thing to do with Brody. I told her when she found the one, she’d know without a doubt. She rolled her eyes, turned around and walked away – ending that conversation.

  Which reminded me of Kevin’s attitude – let’s not forget about her father’s attitude. Kevin was genuinely and patiently kind, but, if provoked, he was stubborn as hell. I could tell Logan was going to be just like him, if not worse, and I was completely okay with that. If she was going to survive as an immortal werewolf, she’d need all of her father’s attitude and plenty of my courage to boot. But for now, Logan was just a mild teenage version of him.

  “Because if they’re home this evening, Logan, you may go over to Brody’s house after dinner,” I replied using my own I’m-your-mother-don’t-push-it tone. Normally, I would’ve gotten after her for being sharp with me, but I wasn’t about to sabotage these final moments. My heart was beginning to splinter.

  The doorbell rang, causing me a panicked jolt.

  There was no way they were here yet, I quickly assured myself. Nor would they waste their time with a doorbell.

  “Where are you going?" I yelled.

  “To get my bag,” she said in a rush, taking off up the stairs.

  As I turned to open the front door, I let my hand linger on the crystal knob. Our Laguna Beach home was my favorite; Logan’s too. Though he had picked the property, Richard was impartial. He never fell head-over-heels in love with anything and that included Logan and I. His priority was real estate, but even with that, he didn’t seem emotionally invested. Did he love it? After ten years of marriage, I still wasn’t sure. Whenever I tried to talk to him about it, he politely suggested I was too uneducated in the world of realty to ever understand.

  Our relationship was founded on business. Richard was the reason Logan and I had careers in Hollywood and we’re the reason his real estate business had expanded to celebrity clientele. We’ve used each other to get to a better place. Did I love him? Sure. He handed Logan and I every opportunity and we wanted for nothing. Did he love me? Sure. He came home to made-from-scratch dinners, a regular rotation of new designer suits, spotlessly kept home, and a warm body to cuddle with occasionally. That is, when he actually came home.

  I opened the front door not the least bit sorry for neither my marriage to Richard nor my plan to abandon him without warning.

  “Hey, Michelle,” Brody afforded, forcing a brief smile before he realized I was stopping him at the door. I could faintly hear the sounds of his thoughts questioning, what my problem was tonight.

  By choice, I hadn’t shifted to wolf-form in years. Many years. The last time had been difficult but I awoke one morning to an alien scent: wolf mixed with the sweet scent of pine encompassing our home, the aroma hanging like a smothering cloud. By evening, when I couldn’t figure out who or where the scent was coming from, I shifted – barely – hoping to track the intruder down. The trail disappeared at LAX Airport – the international departures entrance – assuring me of one thing – Xavier was continuing to keep tabs on us. Logan was about twelve years old at the time.

  Brody played with his BMW key nervously. I wish Logan would hurry up, he thought.

  Reading Brody’s thoughts wasn’t difficult, it was how I naturally communicated with shifters when in wolf-form. Unfortunately, if the other person wasn’t a shifter, then it was a one-sided conversation when in human-form, leaving me with only their thoughts. It was frustrating so I rarely listened to what people were thinking. Since I spent so many years distancing myself from the werewolf world it didn’t come as easily anymore. Still, there were a handful of non-shifters I paid minor attention to and Brody was one of them.

  Logan was the only exception. I absolutely could not he
ar her thoughts. To be honest, Logan was always the exception.

  “I’d like you to take Logan to that new Italian restaurant on Coast Highway… better yet,” I paused, realizing I wanted to get her as far away from me and our house as possible for the night. “Take her somewhere nice to eat in Beverly Hills,” I said, handing him several crisp one-hundred dollar bills I’d pulled from my Louis Vuitton bag.

  “But…” he started, his thoughts quickly coming up with other ways to spend the money he eagerly took from my hand.

  “Logan deserves a nice dinner tonight. She’s been dealing with some… things,” I offered cryptically.

  I pretended to like Brody for Logan’s sake, but I knew he was more than just friends with Logan’s best-friend, Lindsey. It was a prime example of telepathy being both a blessing and curse and why I rarely used it. It forced me into an awkward position but I was not about to be the proof-less messenger that typically gets shot in these situations. Did I feel guilty letting my daughter fall deeper in love with a cheater? Of course. But I was absolutely certain Logan and Brody’s relationship would end soon and like so many things in life, she’d have to learn the hard way.

  Brody tensed at my words, acting as if he wanted to escape. For a young man, he was quite the sight. His career in modeling was extremely promising but until his maturity level caught up with the rest of him, that’s all Brody was good for.

  “You and I both know Logan deserves nothing short of the best, right Brody?”

  He simply and cowardly nodded. The shit I put up with for this girl, he thought.

  “Then let’s not mention this was my idea and you treat her to the best meal in town. I know it’s a drive, but she needs this.” I gave him my best you’re-not-good-enough-for-my-daughter smile.

  He nodded, acknowledging my unspoken words. At the top of the stairs, I heard the clacking of Logan’s favorite black-studded Louboutin heels.

  “Hey, Brody,” she grinned as she carefully made her way down the stairs.

  “Brody,” I turned to face him, “would you excuse us for a moment, please? Logan will be out shortly.”

  “Yeah… sure,” he hesitated, looking at Logan. She nodded and he left to start his car.

  I took a very deep breath, steadied myself as I shut the front door, and turned toward my baby girl.

  “Is everything okay, Mom? You’re looking pale.”

  “I’m just feeling a little off. Maybe I’ll head to bed early,” I offered, choking back my heart. Please get through this, I thought to myself.

  “Do you want me to stay home?”

  “No, no, no. I’ll be fine.” What do I say? What do I possibly say in a moment like this, I wondered. My heart was starting to shred. I swallowed hard.

  “Alright. Well, do you want me home right after dinner? Is Richard gonna be home later?”

  This kid, I thought. “No, he’s up in Mammoth Mountain area showing a ski property to some new clients. I’ll be fine, sweetheart, really.” This can’t be it, this can’t be it, I thought.

  “Wonderful,” she kidded, “Do we know who the celebs are?”

  “Umm… he didn’t mention it, I’ll have to ask him.” That’s it, keep it normal and casual. You can do this, Michelle.

  “Alright,” she mumbled, reaching to gently squeeze my shoulder. The gesture forced another rumble from my chest and Logan’s shimmering teal-blue eyes narrowed in concern.

  I grabbed her, pulling her tightly into my arms. I buried my face in her neck, breathing deep. Her designer perfume did little, at least for my nose, to mask the faint scent of wolf hiding beneath the surface of her skin.

  I wondered, like I had countless times since her miracle birth, what color her fur would be. I had my assumptions, but was certain she was going to be beautiful and unique in every sense of the word. When thinking about what she was going to look like, I always thought about how she was going to react when she learned of her fate. Thinking about it this time hit me hard because I realized for the first time I would never know. I gripped her tighter.

  “I love you, Logan,” I whispered softly in her ear.

  “I love you too, Mom,” she murmured, reciprocating my tight grasp.

  I need to let her go.

  I pried my face from the crook of her neck, placing a kiss on her cheek. I squeezed my eyes tightly trying to wick away any chance of tears. This is it, I thought. My heart was breaking.

  Logan pulled back from our embrace. She knew something was wrong, but she’d get nowhere asking. She knew that. Still, the look of concern on her face made my insides turn violently.

  “Have fun, I’ll miss you,” I choked out, nearly losing it.

  “I will. Thanks, Mom.”

  Ah, that was the last time, I thought painfully. The last time my heart would ever be whole.

  “Love you,” she yelled as she bound down the front steps toward Brody’s car.

  All I could do as their taillights disappeared down the drive was whisper, ‘I love you too,’ as tears poured down my face.

  Andrea L Wells – The Midnight Hour