Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

IZZY

" Y ou look like shit, kid," Agatha, or Aggie, as I call her, informs me as I push open the door to my room. I live with my parents and two older brothers, so my room is really the only place I have to myself.

Aggie's spectral form hovers over my bed. She has her legs crossed and her petticoats primly arranged around her lap. While she was only a few years older than me when she died, Aggie insists on calling me kid . It drives me crazy, which is probably why she does it.

"Thanks. You always say the nicest things to me, Aggie," I deadpan. The ghost just cackles at my sarcasm.

Seeing spirits sounds pretty cool. Until you realize that ghosts are just as much of assholes as the living. Aggie should have crossed over ages ago. But she's still here, annoying the shit out of me.

She follows me wherever I go, which can make it hard to keep the whole seeing ghosts thing a secret. At least Aggie has been leaving me alone at school recently. That makes it somewhat easier.

Shoving my door closed, I drop my backpack onto the ground near my desk. Walking over to my closet, I warn, "Close your eyes or turn around if you don't want an eyeful of my boobs."

Not bothering to check if she listened, I strip out of my violet tee and light-wash jeans. I dig through the dresser in my closet and find a black sports bra. Pulling it out, I put it and my favorite lilac workout leggings on.

I snag a black hoodie I stole from Bishop and pull it over my head. Burying my nose in the soft, worn fabric, I take a deep inhale of Bishop's rainy forest scent. It always calms me when I've had a rough day.

Once I'm finished changing, I grab my guitar and flop onto my fluffy purple comforter. I lie on my back with my legs and socked feet on the lavender wall at the end of my bed. Turning my head, I look out the window over my bed while I softly strum my acoustic guitar.

"What are your plans for the night?" Aggie floats over to my desk as she talks.

"Go to the gym with Bishop, murder a punching bag, and cross over some ghosts," I say while I stare at the elm trees in my backyard.

"You know, you can take the night off, kid." When I glance over at Aggie, her forehead is pinched in concern. While she gives me shit on the regular, Aggie also cares about me, in her own way.

"And who's going to cross them if I don't?" I ask, already knowing the answer. There's no one we know of who can do what I do. So, the responsibility falls to me. That's how I spend most of my nights.

Aggie gives me a sad nod, letting me know she'll do her part so I can cross those who need it tonight.

I get lost playing my guitar and singing for a while. I'm playing "'Tis the Damn Season" when Aiden, one of my older brothers, comes crashing through my door.

"Lover boy's here, Iz." Aiden leans against the door and stares at me for a beat. With the same golden-blond hair and gray eyes, we're often mistaken for twins. But he's a good half a foot taller than me and three years older.

Rhys is my other brother. He's seven years older than me and takes after my dad. Aiden and I both look like our mom, Maggie. With brown hair, hazel eyes, and his six-foot-two height, Rhys is the spitting image of our dad, Sean.

"Why do you always sing such depressing songs?" Aiden whines.

"I don't!"

"You really do."

"Fine," I huff. To prove him wrong, I start belting out "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" as loud as I can. That'll teach him to criticize my song choice.

"Ah! My ears! They're bleeding!" Aiden exclaims dramatically. He hates pop music and any popular songs. I roll my eyes at him and keep singing. "Stop! Uncle! I give up! You were right, Izzy!"

I stop singing as soon as he admits I'm right. Grinning at him from my spot on the bed, I savor my victory over my annoying older brother.

"You're such a pest, Izzy," Aiden tells me with a wide smile, nowhere near as annoyed as he tries to seem. "Do you want me to send lover boy up, or are you meeting him downstairs?"

"You can send him up." I sit up and put my guitar down. Getting off the bed, I bend over and gather my hair into a high ponytail. After securing the hair tie, I straighten up and shove my feet into my sneakers, blowing the strands that are too short to be in the ponytail out of my face.

"Okay. Just keep the door open. You know Mom's rules. You can only fuck him with the door open." Aiden flashes me a cheeky grin before bounding out of my room.

I snort at his interpretation of Mom's open-door rule. Although, I'm pretty sure she'd be thrilled to come home and find me doing Bishop. She's been pushing us together for years, but that's never going to happen.

"You ready to go?" Bishop rumbles in his smooth, deep voice as he steps into my room. With his sharp jaw, muscular frame, and megawatt smile, Bishop is one of the most eligible bachelors in Hawthorne Grove. But he has exactly zero interest in his legions of admirers, preferring to hang out with me, the town reject.

Bishop shoves a hand through his unruly brown hair that's constantly falling in his baby-blue eyes as he looks around my room. He spots my guitar sitting by my bed. Trying, and failing, to be subtle, he runs his gaze over my face. He's probably checking for signs I've been crying. Singing is a way to let out my emotions, so I often cry when I play guitar.

"Yep," I chirp, trying to seem upbeat so Bishop doesn't worry. Snagging my wireless earbuds, I tuck them in my hoodie pocket, along with my ID holder. Glancing around my room, I make sure I'm not forgetting anything.

When I'm confident I have everything, I murmur, " Aperire ." Out of habit, I speak the phrase aloud to open the portal. My weird magic means I don't need an incantation to do the spell, unlike other mages. Instead, I just need to visualize what I want to happen. My magic takes care of the rest.

The portal to a back alley a few minutes from the gym swooshes open. Bishop walks through first. Once he's on the other side, he holds out his hand for me as I step through. Ignoring his hand, I hop through on my own. Touching Bishop is dangerous. I like it way too much.

While I resisted it for a while, I can't deny that Bishop is my best friend now. I don't know how he broke through my defenses, but here he is, being all smug and shit about it. It'd be safer for him not to hang out with me, but he doesn't seem to care. Nothing I do makes him stay away, and, trust me, I've tried.

Letting go of the portal, I watch it snap closed. Shoving my hands into my stolen hoodie pocket, I take off for the gym. Bishop falls into step beside me.

"You wanna spar or use a punching bag?" Bishop slings his arm around me as I walk. At six-foot-three, he towers over my five-foot-six frame. I poke him in the ribs to get him to remove his arm. With how much muscle he has, I doubt he even felt my jab. We start walking with me tucked into his side.

"Punching bag. I'm too angry to spar. I don't want to break your pretty face. You need it to pick up chicks." I grin up at him.

He just rolls his eyes at me. "You know I'm not picking up women."

"You should," I tell him quietly, earlier mirth gone. "Or dudes. I really don't care, as long as you're with someone."

Bishop hums in disagreement but doesn't say anything further. We walk the rest of the way in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts.

The red-brick front of the Poisoned Vine comes into view. I pick up my pace when I see the MMA gym's black awning decorated with crimson thorns and lettering dripping with blood.

Bishop chuckles at my excitement. He pulls open the glass-and-metal door before waving me through. I practically skip inside.

It's a huge space, complete with three sparring rings, a wall of punching bags, and a padded area for practice. The gym has black tile floors, black mats covering the walls, and red mats on the floor of the sparring rings and practice area. With the wall of windows and fluorescent lights in the industrial ceiling, the gym is well lit.

I start toward the hanging bags when a cheery voice calls out. "Hey, Izzy and Bishop!"

"Hey, Reggie," I say with a smile as I turn toward the eager wolf manning the front desk. His curly brown hair complements his mocha skin and deep brown eyes. Reggie's earnest smile makes it impossible to be in a bad mood.

Mages aren't the only ones with magic. The same magic that allows mages to cast spells also powers animal shifters, like wolves and bears, fae, vampires, sirens, and more.

Usually, different magic users keep to themselves. But the Poisoned Vine is open for anyone, other than normal humans, to use. As long as the rules are respected. The average human has no idea we exist, so we try to keep separate from them.

The Poisoned Vine is owned by some wolves. That's part of the reason I chose it. I'm sick of all the elitism of mages. When I'm on my own time, I don't want to interact with a single mage, outside of Bishop and my family. No Hawthorne Grove mage would be caught dead in a wolf-owned gym, so I'm in the clear here.

"What are you doing tonight?" Reggie enthusiastically asks.

"Just some punching bag work," I answer for both Bishop and me. Bishop usually only spars when I do. He likes to stick close to me, so he'll likely take the punching bag right next to mine.

"Cool! The owners are going to be here tonight. Stop by before you leave, and I'll introduce you!" Reggie is so excited at the prospect of introducing us that I don't have the heart to refuse him. Giving him a small nod, I head over to the punching bags.

"Don't forget gloves, Izzy," Bishop calls. I nod, while having no intention of following his advice.

Shoving my earbuds into my ears, I put on my favorite gym playlist. "Dying For" blasts in my ears as I push up the hoodie's sleeves, so they won't get in my way.

I aim a bare-knuckled punch at the black bag hanging in front of me. My fist lands with a satisfying thud. My knuckles sting, but I don't pay them any attention. Instead, I lose myself in the music and violence, punching out all my pent-up frustration from the week.

When my knuckles are too bruised and sore to keep going, I reluctantly step back from the swinging bag.

While beating up an inanimate object helped some, it didn't do nearly enough to calm the storm raging in me. It's a constant battle to keep all my emotions inside at school. Reacting to the insults and taunts will only encourage the power-tripping mages.

Any reaction chances letting my magic out to play. I have to use every shred of self-control I possess to keep my magic chained up when it wants to lash out at the other mages. While it would be satisfying to pay them back for the daily pain they cause, it's not worth it.

Nothing is worth Bishop's and my family's safety.

The daily struggle against my magic is exhausting. Add in the lack of sleep from spending most nights crossing ghosts, and I'm hanging on by a thread. I can't keep going like this much longer.

Something has to give.

I'm just not sure what.

Scrubbing my battered hands over my face, I attempt to force back the frustration and exhaustion trying to drown me. I refuse to cry here. Guys are so quick to judge a girl for crying. In a gym full of dudes who are already judgmental about me being the only girl, I don't want to give them another reason to look down on me. Women like hitting things, too, so I don't know why they're so uppity over it.

"You okay?" Bishop asks as he stops in front of me, brown brows slanted in concern.

"Just peachy," I mutter behind my hands. Letting my arms fall from my face, I don't resist the hug Bishop pulls me into. He always seems to know what I need. It just makes staying away harder.

After a moment, I step out of his hold. Bishop reluctantly lets me go, his blue eyes still crinkled with worry. I try to rearrange my face into something that says I'm fine. By Bishop's grimace, it doesn't work.

Huffing, I give up on trying to appear anything other than done with life. Turning, I stride toward the door before remembering that Reggie wanted us to meet the owners. I veer toward the front desk instead. Reluctantly, I walk up to the smiling wolf.

The last thing I want to do tonight is meet people. But for the wolf who has shown me more kindness than the entire town of Hawthorne Grove, I'll do it. "Where are the owners you want us to meet, Reggie?" I ask tiredly.

"I'll go get them. One sec!" Reggie sprints off, leaving Bishop and I staring after him. I glance at Bishop, and he's wearing the same bemused expression I am.

Reggie's a character, that's for sure.

It's only a minute or two before Reggie comes out of the back office, followed by three massive wolves.

Jesus Christ, those dudes are built.

The largest one is probably six-foot-five and made of pure muscle. His sun-bleached blond hair is trimmed short, and he has a day's worth of blond stubble. Together, with a jaw sharp enough to cut granite, flinty aquamarine eyes, and tattoos peeking out of his black tee, his whole appearance screams don't fuck with me .

Duly fucking noted, wolf.

To his left is a man who looks like a slightly shorter and much friendlier version of the bigger one. The same blond hair, blue-green eyes, and angular bone structure make me think they're siblings. His golden hair is longer and messier than his brother's, though.

Whereas the tall one is intimidating, this wolf wears an easygoing smile. It matches his laid-back band T-shirt and jeans. His eyes are still sharp, constantly assessing his surroundings. On second thought, I'm not sure how much friendlier he actually is.

The third wolf stands somewhere in between the other two in height. His jet-black hair curls around his ears, and his moss-green eyes are narrowed on me. He's just as good-looking as the other two, with a model-like square jaw, high cheekbones, and slightly crooked nose. Instead of a tee and jeans, he wears a charcoal button-down and black slacks.

I swallow uneasily as they get closer. My instincts are screaming at me to run away from the three predators prowling closer.

Rather than running, I stand my ground. I tip my chin up, refusing to show how unnerved I am. Wolves respect courage. I'll be damned if I give them a reason to look down on me. Enough people already do.

When the three wolves and Reggie reach us, Bishop tips his chin slightly in deference. I look at him with wide eyes. Since when does Bishop show respect to anyone or anything other than me? He has almost as big of a problem with authority as I do.

"Luca." He nods to the largest one. "Archer and Cain, good to see you."

He knows these wolves?

Of course, he does. There's no way he'd let me come to a gym owned by randoms. Bishop is meticulous when it comes to my safety.

"Bishop," Luca growls in a deep voice. He turns his startling aquamarine eyes on me. Arching one blond brow, he asks without words what my name is.

I bristle at his wordless demand. Shoving my annoyance down, I answer, "I'm Izzy." I'd really like to keep coming to this gym. Pissing off the owners will definitely get me kicked out. I can play nice for one conversation.

Luca sticks out one large palm, clearly intending to shake my hand. I don't really want to touch the big wolf, but I'm trying to seem polite here. With an internal sigh, I place my pale hand in his tanned one.

Familiar tingles shoot up my arm from where we touch.

No. No fucking way. This can't be happening.

My wide eyes bounce up to meet his, and he doesn't look surprised. I forgot that wolves can tell through smell. He's likely known since he stepped foot into the gym.

Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Run away and hope to never see him again is really my only option. But freaking out right now will only clue him into my plans. Smoothing my expression, I try to look like I'm unaffected by him. I'm pretty sure I fail, but it's the best I can do right now.

Turning toward his brother, I make hesitant eye contact with Archer. He also sticks out his hand, and I pray to anyone who will listen that I don't feel anything when we touch.

It doesn't work.

I feel the same tingles as I did with his brother. Briefly closing my eyes, I will the frustrated tears away. I don't want to give away my emotions right now.

When I'm sure I won't burst into tears, I extract my hand from the smiling wolf. I stick my hand out for Cain to shake, already knowing what's going to happen.

My hand tingles.

Un-fucking-believable.

Why does the universe hate me so much?

"It was nice to meet you," I lie between gritted teeth before grabbing Bishop's hand and tugging him toward the door.

"Wait!" Luca calls.

I ignore him and focus on getting to the door. When I hear footsteps behind me, I turn to Bishop and yell, "Time to go!"

Breaking out into a sprint, I drag Bishop behind me as we burst through the doors to the gym I'm never coming back to.

His wide eyes meet mine after he looks over his shoulder at the three pissed-off wolves trying to follow us. "Izzy—" he starts.

"There's no time! I'll explain later. We need to fucking run. Now!" I scream.