Dark Summer (Book I, Witchling Series)

Chapter Eight

Decker wasn't sure which shocked him more: that his brother had unknowingly moved into his territory or that Summer would choose someone else over him, especially when he knew she felt their magick when they danced. He paused when he reached the first floor. More than his pride was bruised. Maybe this was better. He hadn't wanted to drag Summer into his world.

The thought had never crossed his mind that Summer didn't feel for him as he did for her, that she wanted nothing to do with him. He stepped into the cool night. Every day, the sensation of darkness grew around him, within him. It was comforting as it flowed through his body yet caused his headaches to grow during the day. He was becoming more and more sensitive to those around him, a necessity for one who must track evil.

Disturbed, he went to the square out back. The bonfires were lit. His brother was absent, probably in their room. Decker returned to their room and froze as he opened the door to find Beck and Dawn in a make-out frenzy.

"Later, Decker!" Beck all but shouted.

"It's my room. Get out, Dawn."

The lust-struck couple both looked startled at his low growl. He hadn't meant it to come out so harsh. Or maybe he did. Beck was good-natured enough to believe Dawn if she said she was only going out with him, and Dawn was conniving enough to lie in order to tap their trust funds.

After a moment, she grabbed her clothes and dressed calmly, looking up at him with a smile as she left. He locked the door behind her.

"Dude, what the hell?" Beck demanded, pulling on a shirt.

"You two didn't break up?"

"Why does everyone think we did?"

"Maybe because you asked Summer to the dance with you."

"Oh, god. This again." Beck rose and opened the top drawer of his nightstand. "Dawn was playing a joke on her, and it got out of hand. She keeps writing me notes and seems convinced I'm going to the dance with her. Dawn's tried to tell her a million times it's just some sick delusion."

"Summer's writing you notes?" Decker asked, taken aback.

"Look at these. Every time I come back to the room, there's another one." Beck said and picked up a stack of lined paper covered with flowery handwriting. "There's like, twenty of these things."

Decker took them, his heart at his feet. He couldn't imagine Summer doing such a thing, but then again, he didn't know much about her, aside from how he felt. His insides were cold as he took the notes.

"What did Dawn do?" he asked, perplexed.

"She pranked Summer. Pretended to be me, wrote Summer a note and asked her to the dance. Things got out of control after that. She came to me finally and admitted it."

"You ever think Dawn wrote these, too?"

"It's not her handwriting," Beck snapped. "And yes, I checked. I know you don't trust her, and I trust your judgment, even if I don't like to hear it."

Decker looked up, not expecting his brother to admit to trusting anything he said, especially about Dawn. Beck looked troubled, but said nothing. His words about Summer made Decker nauseous.

"At least you didn't ask her out," he managed and sat with the letters in his hand.

"You like her?" Beck asked, surprised. "She doesn't seem like your type."

"What's my type, Beck?"

"Alexa."

Decker snorted and stretched out on his bed. He began to read the letters and got through four before he set them down. Professions of love and desire...he was expecting quotes by Shakespeare, not something that read like it was pulled out of a teen magazine.