by Kathy Reichs
“Coop’s headed for the edge of the property.” Shelton attempted to shrug while sprinting. “Far as I know, that’s empty forest. The handout doesn’t list anything.”
“Super.” Panting. Wheezing. “I’m excited.”
Though my mind is a steel trap, I’m not exactly built for long distance pursuit. I carry a bit too much weight in the . . . everywhere to be an effective cross-country runner. Yet with my powers unleashed, I felt light as a feather. Strong. Fast. Agile. Nevertheless, I was still puffing and blowing a Clydesdale by the time we reached the woods.
Ben waited at the edge of the forest. “The mutt never broke stride. I think Coop knows where he’s going.”
“Maybe he’s tracking her perfume?” I gasped hopefully, turning my head to eject a lethal snot rocket.
Shelton waved at the silent grove before us. “But how do we track the wolfdog?”
Ben stared at the snugly massed jumble of trees, as if trying to extract an answer by sheer force of will. Finally, “Follow me.” He jogged into the gloom.
I glanced at Shelton, who was looking at me.
“Deserted forest,” he said. “No idea where we’re going.”
I nodded. “A psychopath might be hiding inside. I’m a terrible hand-to-hand fighter.”
Shelton shook his head. “This is my life now.”
“Hey, at least it’s not your birthday. Worst one ever, by the way.”
His fist came up. I dapped it with mine.
“For Tory,” Shelton said.
“For Tory.” All joking shelved.
Squaring our shoulders, we hustled into the woods.
• • •
“Hi!” Shelton hissed. “Hear that?”
“Of course I do.” I spoke just as quietly. “My powers are maxed out right now. I can hear your freaking heartbeat.”
He nodded, eyebrows up. “Same here.”
Then Shelton whistled lightly to catch Ben’s attention up ahead.
When Ben turned, Shelton tapped his ear.
Ben nodded impatiently. He brought two fingers up to his eyes, then pointed them left.
“What does that mean?” I muttered, taking a private moment to adjust my sagging shorts. “Look that way? Go investigate? I’m not an army ranger here.”
Hearing me, Ben covered his face. Then he whispered, “Just watch my back.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing.” But I zipped my lips at his exasperated glare.
We’d all heard the barking.
Coop? The yips had sounded like Tory’s wolfdog, but honestly, it was impossible to tell.
Ben crept forward through the trees. This stretch of forest was particularly terrifying—tall, skinny oaks, with little understory in between. Yet the trunks were tightly packed, limiting how far one could see. The effect was a sensation of being exposed on all sides, while simultaneously feeling hemmed in and surrounded.
I hated it. Beside me, Shelton looked close to passing out.
A furious baying erupted just ahead. Something large crashed though the trees.
Ben froze, unsure how to react. Then he arrowed directly for the commotion.
“Go toward the sounds?” Shelton squawked. “That’s a classic horror movie mistake.”
“Too late now!” Steeling my nerves, I fired after Ben. Shelton trailed a step behind.
The noise rose, a sudden cacophony of barks and whines.
Definitely Coop.
Then Ben yelled at the top of his lungs.
Adrenaline flooded my system.
I vaulted a fallen log, circled a clump of willows, and stormed into a small clearing.
Coop was rolling in the leaves, pinning someone beneath his massive bulk.
Ben dove on the tangle with a voice-cracking whoop.
Raising both fists above my head, I unleashed a primal growl, preparing to launch my full weight onto whatever I didn’t recognize and pummel it with my eyes closed.
Ben saw me coming, held up a hand in alarm.
“Hi! Stop!”
I skidded to a halt, eyes wide, lungs pumping. “What!? What’s going on!?”
Coop rolled to his feet, began licking the person at the bottom of the pile.
It was Tory.
I began breathing again.
Hiram had stopped his blind charge and wouldn’t crush me. Thank goodness. Pushing Cooper aside, I got to my feet. Felt a huge surge of warmth.
I was no longer alone.
The Virals had found me.
Ben was beaming, unable to hide his relief. He turned quickly, wiping his glowing eyes. Shelton darted forward and crushed me with a hug.
Coop was dancing and bucking, his tail wagging so hard he had trouble keeping balance.
My boys. My heroes.
“How?” Ben asked simply.
“My wolfdog found me.” Catching him, I hugged Coop tight. “I was totally lost, hiding behind this log. He appeared like a guardian angel. Where are we, anyway?”
“The woods south of Drayton Hall,” Shelton said. “A mile from the river, maybe twice that from the barn where you disappeared.”
So close. We barely traveled at all.
My elation quickly evaporated. Ella was still locked in that terrible cell.
I scanned the group. Noted with satisfaction that everyone was flaring.
“Hawfield is the kidnapper.” I waved for the boys to huddle close. “The twins faked their abduction, and were working with that jerk to rip off their trust fund.”
“Faked?” Blood rushed to Ben’s face. “They made the whole thing up?”
“Holy crap!” Shelton reached for an earlobe. “The cop did it?”
“Why would they steal their own money?” Hi wondered.
“I’ll explain everything later,” I said. “What matters now is Ella. Hawfield took her to keep her quiet. I found the twins hiding in the barn, but they took off. Hawfield showed up, and my flare bugged out. Then he locked me up with Ella in the cell from the video.”
“So you confronted the twins alone, without waiting for us?” Ben couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “After making us promise not to do anything like that?”
“We can discuss my impulsiveness another time—”
“Oh, we will,” Ben assured me.
“—but right now, Ella is all that matters. That cell is somewhere in these woods. Deep underground, at the bottom of an old well. I flared and escaped, but ran into Hawfield and had to leave Ella behind.”
My voice broke.
I’d left her there, alone in the dark.
Ben’s hand found my shoulder. “You had no choice. But the pack is here now. We’ll find Ella, and deal with that dirty cop, too. Just lead the way.”
Ben’s words stiffened my resolve. Reaching up, I squeezed his hand before he released it.
Shelton’s eyes darted around the clearing. “Hawfield’s in these woods?”
“Armed. He’s taken a few shots at me already.”
“Then he’s toast.” Ben’s tone was glacial.
The boys looked my way. Cooper sat at attention, his total focus on me.
Hi gave a shaky thumbs-up. “Do your thing, Tor. Stir the drink.”
I nodded. “Let’s join hands. Coop in the middle.”
We formed a circle around the wolfdog.
My eyes closed. I pushed all doubts away.
The flaming cords sprang to life, a fiery lattice connecting the five of us.
Centered on Coop. The nexus. Our touchstone.
The disturbance was gone. The lines seemed frozen in place, awaiting my command.
Working by instinct, I expanded the cords, then untethered my consciousness and sent it racing through the channels.
My perception flicked from person to pers
on.
Hi. Ben. Shelton. Coop.
I’m here.
My eyes opened. I saw the boys staring at one another in wonder.
Without quite understanding how, I flashed to Hiram. Looked out from his eyes.
I saw a redheaded girl covered in grime, face pinched in concentration. She smiled.
It’s working. We can trade.
I felt Shelton’s anxiety as he took a peek through my eyes. I’ll never get used to this.
Amazeballs. Hi stepped forward and poked Ben in the chest.
Ben slapped Hi’s hand away. Grinned wolfishly. Everyone ready?
For what? Shelton sent.
Hunt.
My gaze dropped to Coop, standing in the center of our circle.
We hunt, the wolfdog sent. As Pack.
Coop laced the sending with the concepts of friendship, family, and trust.
Kneeling, I kissed his doggie snout. I couldn’t have said it better.
• • •
Gun drawn, Detective Hawfield stalked through the woods.
The barking had come from somewhere just up ahead.
Late-afternoon daylight angled through the trees—blinding sunbeams alternating with lengthening shadows—making it harder to see.
But he’d be damned if he was giving this chase up.
That meddling, terrible, unbelievable Brennan girl.
She was some kind of evil spirit.
How in God’s name did she escape that cell?
The Francis kid had still been inside. She’d screamed for Brennan to run, obviously unable to flee herself. He’d thought about dealing with her right then and there, but decided to wait. He might still need a hostage.
Because, right then, all of Hawfield’s plans were in shambles.
The twins were gone. Out of his reach.
Brennan was somewhere loose in these woods.
He was supposed to receive the ransom tonight. If the twins kept their mouths shut just a few more hours, he could still pull this off. He could win.
But Tory Brennan threatened everything.
That she-devil had to be found. And dealt with.
Hawfield checked his HK45. Seven rounds in the cartridge, plus one in the chamber. Another clip was strapped to his ankle.
More than enough for one little girl.
This time, no prison cell.
Something rustled in the brush to his left.
Hawfield froze. Brought the pistol around.
He wasn’t worried. One teen, alone in the woods. He’d catch her eventually. They were miles from anywhere, and Brennan didn’t know where she was to boot.
No one would hear him take care of this problem.
I just have to find her.
A twig snapped.
Hawfield spun, trying to locate the source. Game roamed these woods. He didn’t want to give away his position wasting some deer.
A silver streak shot from the bushes dead ahead.
Something huge bounded to within a dozen feet of where he stood.
Hawfield found himself face-to-face with a wolf.
The beast growled, saliva dripping from his massive jowls.
Hawfield fired reflexively, but the animal had vanished into the sea of gray trunks.
“Jesus!”
A wolf! Here, in the Lowcountry.
Then he went cold, one hand dropping to the lacerations on his leg.
Was that the animal that attacked him on Morris Island? Brennan’s maniac pet?
Hawfield raised his weapon, scanning for more predators. Wolves rarely hunt alone.
Silence. Stillness. As if he’d imagined the creature.
Hawfield chuckled darkly. “Go find the Brennan girl, you mongrel.”
Leaves crunched to his right.
He turned.
Brennan stood in plain view, twenty feet away.
She glared. Made no move to run.
The girl’s eyes had that same yellow tinge. Unnerving, but Hawfield had been in tough spots before. Some creepy teenage waif wouldn’t get under his skin.
“Freeze, and I won’t fire.” Hawfield inched closer, looking for a clear shot.
Brennan stepped behind a trunk.
Hawfield sped forward, determined to finish this once and for all.
Snapping branches. Hawfield glanced to his left.
The wolf was charging his flank, on a direct collision course. As he watched, the beast coiled and sprang.
“Holy—”
Hawfield spun, backpedaling. A root caught his ankle and he crashed to the ground.
Crack! Crack!
Bullets ripped into a tree trunk twenty yards away.
No other sounds. The creature was gone.
Hawfield clambered to his feet. The first tinglings of fear gathered in his massive belly.
What’s going on?
Movement in the corner of his eye.
Hawfield swung his weapon. Squinted through the patchwork shafts of light.
One of those boys!
Ben Blue.
For a second, the detective could only stare in astonishment. By the time he thought to shoot, Blue had darted behind a fallen log.
This was bad. Brennan’s friends were in the woods, too.
I might be outnumbered.
A whistle behind him.
Hawfield pivoted.
The fat kid smiled, waggling his fingers before slipping from sight.
Hawfield’s rage exploded. “Think you can toy with me, you punks?”
A hungry growl was his only warning.
Riiiip!
Searing pain tore through Hawfield as a furry gray rocket slammed into his side. Before he could blink, his attacker bounded into the bushes.
“Ayyyeeee!” Hawfield collapsed in a heap, one hand grabbing his backside.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Slugs tore into the space where the beast had vanished.
Blood ran down Hawfield’s pant leg. He felt a hot wetness pooling in his shoe.
The dog. Those boys. They found this place somehow.
Hawfield spotted the black kid on a log, ten feet ahead. He grinned, then disappeared behind a row of prickly pears.
The fat one followed close on his heels.
Ben Blue darted between the oaks to his left, sliding from his field of vision.
With cold dread, Hawfield realized the kids were closing.
Tightening the noose.
They’re playing with me. And that’s the same wolf from Morris Island.
Then Brennan stepped from the trees right before him.
Arms crossed, she stared down at him with glowing, inhuman yellow eyes.
“What are you?” Hawfield asked hoarsely.
A cold smile curled her lips. “Your worst nightmare.”
Hawfield snarled. Arm jerking up, he fired wildly.
Crack! Crack!
Click.
Too late, Hawfield realized his mistake. His hand had barely moved for the second clip when a drop of hot liquid struck his forehead.
Hawfield looked up.
Stared directly into a pair of canine jaws.
“Easy, boy.”
I stepped from behind a cluster of oaks.
Cooper’s eyes flicked to me, but he didn’t move away.
Hawfield’s neck was a centimeter from the wolfdog’s gleaming incisors.
Hold. I sent. Nothing else.
Coop growled, clearly in disagreement, but he eased back a few inches.
Hold.
The boys raced from the forest. Hi pulled the empty HK45 from the detective’s fingers. Shelton ran to my side, unsure what to do.
Ben walked directly to Hawfield and kicked him i
n the stomach.
“Ben.”
“Yes?” His eyes never left the detective.
“Just search him, please.”
Ben ran rough hands over Hawfield, freeing the handcuffs from his belt and the extra clip strapped to the detective’s ankle. He tossed the latter to Hiram.
Hi immediately walked both weapon and ammunition over to me. “Yours.”
I ejected the spent clip from the HK45, slammed the new one into place, then worked the slide to chamber a round. Then I held the weapon loosely at my side, barrel pointed at the ground.
“I’m terrified of you right now,” Hi said, wide-eyed. “And in love. Take me shooting with your aunt Tempe next time.”
Intensely aware of Coop’s proximity, Hawfield hadn’t moved a muscle. He seemed almost hypnotized by the wolfdog’s gaping jaws.
“Remember Coop, Detective?” Ben stroked the wolfdog’s head. “You two have met once before. I don’t think he likes you.”
Coop growled low in his throat, causing Hawfield to recoil.
Power down, I sent to the other Virals.
Ben shot me a hard look. He’s not secure.
We can’t let him see any more, I answered. Cuff him. I have the gun.
“She’s right.” Hi turned away. Shelton quickly followed suit.
SNUP.
The power fled, but I didn’t stumble.
Something had changed. With the flares. Within me.
My powers had . . . righted themselves somehow. The lines were unclogged. I can’t describe it any better.
Ben cuffed Hawfield tightly, then stepped back, his irises fading to dark brown.
I clicked my tongue for Coop to stand down.
The wolfdog snarled at Hawfield one last time, then complied, retreating a few feet and dropping down on his haunches. Coop was still favoring his injured forepaw.
I stepped forward. Placed the gun barrel against Hawfield’s cheek.
“Is Ella okay?” I asked softly.
“Yes.” Terror filled Hawfield’s eyes.
“Quickest way to her cell?”
“The stairs.” Voice anxious to please. “The GPS coordinates are in my pocket.”
Ben rifled Hawfield’s pants, found a slip of paper, and handed it to Shelton. He began punching the numbers into his iPhone.
“Let’s hurry.” Rising, I looked to Ben. “Should two of us stay and watch him?”
