Free Wynter's Horizon by Dee C. May Page A

the scene develop, concern on her face. Closing my eyes, I let Quinn steer me through the crowd and out the door.
    I hit my knees on the side of the Jeep, retching up my beer. Quinn stood guard and then helped me up. I could hear the approaching sirens as he started the Jeep and pulled out of the parking lot. The wind whistled through the gaps in the canvas top, and I welcomed the fresh air. The cold slowly brought me back to the present. I leaned against the plastic window.
    “That was close,” Quinn commented. “But you are getting better.”
    I met his eyes, able to see clearly for the first time since the blood sprayed across the bar. A truckload of memories passed between us. “On the date or the blood?” I asked.
    “Both. But the last time you saw that much blood, you destroyed the place.” I pushed the memory to the back and thought about how fate had intervened at such a cataclysmic moment.
    “Some paths just shouldn’t be traveled,” I stated, staring ahead and watching the black road roll endlessly in front of the Jeep. Maybe some questions just didn’t get answered. Heaven and Hell were meant to be unknown, ghosts and spirits were supposed to stay in their plane of existence hidden to the rest of us—and some people, especially human killing machines, were intended to be alone.
    “Yes, heartbreak is the only thing that awaits there,” Quinn added. Wynter’s lips flashed into my mind. I bet kissing her would have been nice.

Chapter Seventeen

    Wynter—The Formal

    Jason took the sophomore, Leslie, to the formal. Cute, with big doe eyes, equally large boobs, and a small ass, she followed him from room to room, staring adoringly up at him. She annoyed me. It was rumored they were dating, but I had yet to see them together at meals. I wished I had someone on my arm but, after the fiasco with Beck, I’d given up asking anyone. Hailey and Sophie went alone, too, so it didn’t matter anyway. The party, thrown in the Humanities Hall, sucked, with too many people crowded into a small space. The band, some retro group, played only seventies music, and we wandered around the building for an hour or two then headed for Jim’s, even those with dates.
    Jim’s was disappointingly quiet. We were the only ones besides two old men sipping glasses of whiskey and staring at the television. I went to the bar to order drinks while the girls deposited themselves at a table near the jukebox.
    “You look nice,” Jim commented.
    I pulled the hem of my black dress down a bit. “Thanks. Winter formal. Where is everybody?”
    “It gets quiet this time of year. People have holiday parties to go to. Sometimes, it picks up later but doubtful tonight. It’s already midnight. What can I get you? Shots?”
    I shook my head. “No. Just a round of beers.”
    “You girls are mellow,” he observed, filling up one glass after the other and sliding them across the bar to me.
    “Finals start tomorrow.”
    He nodded in understanding. I scanned the bar, looking for Beck. I hadn’t seen him since I had asked him out. Jim deposited the last beer near me and smiled knowingly.
    “He’s not here. Hasn’t been in since the accident night.”
    “I’m not looking for him.”
    “No. I know, and he doesn’t look for you.” He picked up my twenty and retreated to the other end—laughing as he did.

Chapter Eighteen

    Beck—Florida

    We went to Florida to spend Christmas with Sara, Fiona, Nathaniel, and the rest of our homemade family. Christmas, like any other holiday, was difficult when you were involved in military operations, subject to other people’s time frames, involved in covert missions that required utmost secrecy and the ability to drop everything at a moment’s notice. There was little room for family time, and a lot of us were single children with no siblings and aging or dead parents. Our unnatural powers separated us even further. Having each other was the only constant through our lives.
    We met at Nathaniel and