“Again?” she mocked. “So soon?”
“You’ll pay for that,” he said, smiling tightly.
“I hope so,” she said, withdrawing her foot.
Another blur, almost as if she’d passed out and awakened, and she was back in her motel room, riding his sinewy body beneath her, but in no way feeling that she was in control.
He was in her to the hilt. She faced away from him and lowered herself onto his penis again. They’d started the usual way, and then he had indicated she should straddle him, and she had complied, and now he was huge inside her, driving upward between her buttocks. Her pain was exquisite and she thought she could never leave him. He had found a key to her she had never known existed, and he exploited it from the beginning. His fingers manipulated her as if his other attentions weren’t enough. She groaned with the pleasure, felt her wetness wash over him below her. Their rhythm increased as they approached the peak they sought.
In the dim room, she could barely see his legs in front of her. She bucked wildly on his throbbing hardness, and suddenly she felt something change beneath her—no, it was inside her, as if his penis had changed inside her, become longer and more insistent—
But that was crazy, wasn’t it?
And then she was rocked by her orgasm and lost all sense of time and place. Her waves kept rolling as his hot seed filled her in one sudden gush after another.
She nearly screamed with the pleasure as she fell backward onto him, but it turned to pain as she felt his teeth on her shoulder and bicep.
He was biting her!
Biting and tearing, growling like a—
Jesus! He was ripping into her flesh like a carnivore!
She leaped off his still-engorged penis and felt hot wetness flowing from her shoulder and arm, wounds that began screaming with their own pain.
She rolled off the bed and lunged for the bathroom, hearing him gathering behind her, trying to grab her and bring her back, but she was healthy and fast and made her target before he could, slamming the door onto his face—
It wasn’t a face anymore!
Her mind screamed its confusion and terror, but she still managed to bar the door with the flimsy lock, and he smacked onto the wood with a yelp.
Jesus, he had turned into something.
Something else. Something not human.
Naked, sobbing, bleeding, his thick ejaculation still running cold down her inner thighs, Heather Wilson threw her weight onto the door, praying she could hold him off until…
Until something or someone came to help.
There was silence from outside the bathroom for a few minutes, and she relaxed. Had he left? Her terror drained, but she felt the spiking jabs of pain from the wounds he had inflicted.
Suddenly he renewed his assault on the door, growling like a monster as he threw himself against the wood, which began to splinter under her hands.
She yelped now, trying to keep away from where the door might split. To keep it from splitting.
Then she heard a ringtone from the outer room, an insistent tune that caused him to pause.
She put her ear to the door, but heard nothing.
Was he on the phone? What had he become? What would he do after he was finished with the call, if that was what it was? Did she hear him whispering furiously out there, or was that her imagination?
The answer came when suddenly the outer room door was whipped open and slammed shut, causing the walls and bathroom door to vibrate.
She was alone.
She was bleeding. In the mirror, the wounds looked like miniature shark bites. Bites. He had bitten her and torn off several chunks of flesh.
Sudden, sharp pain came with the sight of her mangled flesh. She tried to close the wounds with her hands, to no effect.
The reaction hit her. She broke into bitter tears.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jessie
He had stopped by to fill her in on what happened outside the courthouse. Later they’d separate and she would head back to Sam’s hideout cottage.
She wondered how safe it really was.
And now she was being a bitch.
She couldn’t stop it. She knew she was wrong to keep hammering at him, but after he had told her about today’s encounter with Heather Wilson, she couldn’t help herself.
“Strange how you and her keep ending up near each other,” she said cattily. Even she couldn’t believe they were her words.
“Jess, I think she’s in danger. This guy she’s seeing, Tef or something, he gives me the creeps. I can’t tell whether she’s stupid or whether she’s working him. He could be involved in the murders, and she might be following the lead herself. If so, she could be in his sights.”
“She’s a big girl. She doesn’t need you to older-brother her.”
“True. But if he’s the guy…I don’t want her blood on my hands. I have enough blood on my hands, Jess.”
She knew he was right. And she knew she could trust him. But she’d been so rattled. By the murders, by Tom Arnow’s manner around her. She’d been possessed by some sort of avenging spirit since Nick had arrived. And he seemed to have noticed. There was a distance opening between them, despite the lovemaking, that she wanted to just wipe away. But every chance she got, she found some nasty comment bubbling to her own lips. It was amazing she’d repressed half of them. But for how long?
Now he was colder than she had ever known him. His Italian blood should have made him the more passionate one, and he usually was, but he was withdrawing.
And as he withdrew, she couldn’t help thinking of that television slut and how she threw her figure and her hair and her ass around and men came running.
Jessie knew it was self-destructive, but she let the thoughts rattle around anyway.
He’s angry about the silver. After the Martin Stewart case, when she had been harshly introduced to Nick’s very real lycanthropy, Sam had convinced her they should be ready, just in case. He’d been right, but with the wrong werewolf. She’d backed the wrong horse.
“Jess?”
She looked at him and kicked herself mentally. How could she not trust him? He’d been the only good thing in her life since even before those dark days of Wilbur Klug. Well, her practice on the rez was good, but Nick’s love completed her.
Sounded like one of those Dr. Phil clichés.
But it was true. So why was she giving him a hard time? He hadn’t brought the Wilson woman to town. And it wasn’t his fault the reporter lusted for him. Jessie herself had felt the same way when he was just her tenant. Now that he was her lover, she’d become possessive.
“Jess?” he said again. “You can come back now.”
“I’m waiting to make sure they can cover for me at the clinic,” she said by way of explanation. “Otherwise I would have left already.”
“Good thing I caught you,” he said, smiling. He put his hand on hers and the warm touch reassured her. At least for the moment.
Her cell phone rang and in a minute she was clear for the evening, her shift covered. Ellie wasn’t thrilled again, but there were favors to exchange.
She watched him from the kitchen doorway and saw his face harden when he thought she wasn’t looking.
They parted with a cool kiss, the good moment somehow lost in their separate missions and disparate dark thoughts.
Mr. XYZ
“Ah, Courtney,” he said with a wide smile. “You look lovely.”
And she did. She’d needed a bath when he found her, but now she was fragrant. He had gently wiped her down with soapy water and then scrubbed under her perky breasts and carefully washed her genitals inside and out. Her feet had been black, but now they glowed.
She’d been slouching on the highway south of Three Lakes, trying to bum a ride and looking too ragged to get one. Ratty hair, smudged face. Only he could see the beauty under all that road dirt.
He’d pulled up and opened the passenger door. “Heading north?”
She nodded, am
azement all over her features. But suddenly she shook her head and stepped back, away from the door. As if she’d seen his soul, his black soul behind the bright eyes.
“Okay then, how about some money for food?” His ready hand held out a ten.
She wanted to say no. She wanted to get as far away from him as possible. He could see it on her face. But she was weak.
They were all weak.
When she reached for the money, he was faster and grabbed her wrist. She squeaked like a mouse when he yanked her within range and his other hand swung the leather-covered sap once across her head and she sagged into the seat. He pulled away, the door closing on its own.
Now she was awake and twisting her naked body against his leather restraints. He knew her name from her cracked Illinois state ID—perfect.
She stopped struggling when he ran his tongue between her breasts, down to her navel, and lower into her folds. He watched his saliva dry on her skin.
She began to shiver, and then her eyes rolled up, and she sagged back onto his hand truck.
He had plenty of time.
Lupo
Maybe he should have let it go. So she had silver ammunition. Just in case. What was wrong with playing it safe?
He smacked the wheel.
Dammit, she was supposed to trust him.
He caught sight of the green-and-white Tracker crossing Railroad Street. Where had the kid been all this time? With Heather? He swung in behind another car and followed at a safe distance on 45 until it turned onto 70. Fortunately the other sedan stayed between them, and Lupo hung back to see where the kid went.
The Tracker kept on 70 to where it curved up and around Dollar Lake, and then turned onto Hemlock.
Alarm bells rang in Lupo’s head.
This time he followed slowly until he passed several driveway entrances camouflaged by overgrown bushes and tightly packed tree trunks. He spotted a flash of metallic green between the pines of the second-to-last one so he slowed, backed up, and waited a minute before nosing his Maxima past the mailbox, down an overgrown path leading away from the house, and shutting off the engine.
Silently, he eased his door open and swung out, shucking his clothes. This was the best way for a quick recon, and it granted him more protection than going in as a cop with only a gun for defense if he found the wolf pack.
He visualized himself as the Creature and went over in a flash, now padding on the needle-strewn driveway and heading for the house on his four paws.
The structure was set perpendicular to Voyageur Lake’s shore, with a wall of glass on one side and a deck on the other, lots of wood between. Pines hugged all sides like a blanket. The Tracker stood hunched on the driveway. Next to it, the rented Altima.
Lupo’s mind gears turned as he directed the Creature closer. Why would someone who knew the Tef kid follow him?
The Creature caught scents now, strong and full, and growled involuntarily, hackles rising.
This had to be the wolf pack’s base then. Lupo caught the scent of the black wolf he had faced down. Now it was a diseased silvery smell, due to the serious silver-caused wounds. They’ll be a bitch to heal, Lupo thought. There were confusing scents, human and wolf, human only, and even something reminiscent of the past. Whatever it was, it reminded him of the Martin gang. The thug Wilbur Klug, to be specific. But different somehow.
The Creature whimpered softly.
He wondered if the pack’s military tendencies extended to its hierarchy.
He padded closer to the house, checking for perimeter security. If there were silent alarms, Lupo wasn’t aware of them, although he saw motion-sensor floodlights mounted around the house proper. He was nowhere near those and it was daylight, so he didn’t worry about them.
He made his way around to the rear of the house and stayed within the darkness of the tree line. Here the disturbingly familiar scent from the past wafted past once, then shut down as if magically dissipated.
Keeping upwind, he stalked nearer but still within the protective pines. He crawled on his belly, half human and half wolf, until he reached a corner where the glass pane stretched from ceiling to floor and the incline to the water’s edge was still gentle.
His nose touched the pane, but the Creature fought his human commands. This style of stalking ran counter to the wolf, but Lupo the human won the fight and the wolf had to comply.
Inside, two men were gesticulating at each other animatedly. One, tall and broad. Angular. Military bearing complete with crew cut and pumped-up biceps. The other was the Tef kid, on the defensive, though he clearly wanted to get into it with the older, higher ranking man. No third man visible—the Altima driver?
Through the wolf’s eyes, they appeared less human and more like fellow werewolves. Lupo wondered whether they’d catch his scent.
Outgunned, he had no choice but to retreat. He had no interest in having them run him to ground like a pack of hounds catches the fox.
He forced the Creature to back away toward the cover of pines.
Tef
He tuned out Tannhauser’s lecture. Yeah, the old guy was Alpha, but he’d become a true square wheel since they’d debriefed on the Iraq gig. A rudderless ship—that’s what they had become. Tannhauser was obsessed with pleasing the dickhead Mr. XYZ, and Schwartz played salivating lapdog to Alpha when not getting himself nearly whacked.
Tef nodded and offered a halfhearted defense. But he didn’t give a shit. Hated the way he’d been summoned, right during playtime. Wasn’t his fault old Schwartz was doing the silver jitterbug now. Tannhauser’s bandaged hands looked like hams in the late afternoon sunlight.
“Yeah, whatever. You about done?” He set off another lecture on rank and duty.
Tef was sure the hothead cop was a werewolf. He hadn’t been able to provoke a reaction yet, but the guy was tightly wound, what with the girlfriend and the hots he had for Heather Wilson. He chuckled. The girlfriend was pretty hot herself—maybe now that Heather was broken he could learn to play with a new toy.
And an enemy werewolf spiced things up. Their instructions were to avoid killing cops, but temptation was strong. Tef was sick of old, frail Indians. Who gave a shit?
Tannhauser was still at it. He was livid. “You are sacrificing the mission to spend time with your whore.”
“Rather spend time with a whore than a bore.”
Tannhauser held back his gnarled fist. “Have you left behind our discipline? Our training?”
“That’s fuckin’-A right. I’m sick of your orders.”
“I’m Alpha!”
“Not necessarily forever, old man.” He muttered, because he was still afraid of Alpha in a fair fight. The old wolf was a survivor, a fighter, a true soldier and also the wiliest wolf Tef had ever seen. But Tannhauser was losing his edge.
And Tef was right there.
“You didn’t even pick up the scent, old man. Your nose is failing.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“We’ve been reconned, that’s what. You’re so wrapped up in your buddy back there, you haven’t realized we’re gonna get raided.”
Alpha blurred suddenly, and the huge black wolf stood before him, his nostrils tasting the air.
His subsequent growl amused Tef. He visualized the cop who had the hots for the reporter woman. He was sure they’d come to blows soon. And he lusted for the chance. But first he had to be rid of the old man.
The odds were better. The time was nearing.
Arnow
He tried to wipe the sand from his eyes. There was too much grit there, too much sleeplessness. He sighed.
Bad enough he had the murders or animal attacks. Whatever the fuck. The pressure from Malko and the county supervisors. The idiot Lydell inciting riots for the first time in a decade. And now Nick Lupo mentioned those damn disappearances.
Wasn’t this too much for the quiet job he thought he’d taken? Would anybody blame him if he bolted? Ran back to the Sunbelt?
He watched th
e deputies change shifts. They looked exhausted, too.
Then there was Heather Wilson. Looked like a million bucks, and defi nitely interested. But she had this weird kid hanging over her, Lupo had said. Come to think of it, Arnow had seen that Tracker. What was that all about?
He remembered how he’d felt on the road not that long ago.
“Jerry? Can you step in here for a minute?”
“Boss? You need me?”
Arnow stifled a smartass remark and nodded. “There have been some disappearances in the outlying area the last few months.”
Faber nodded. “I remember we briefed on them a while back. Basically not located in our area, so we just agreed to keep our eyes open and our phones handy in case it spread here.”
“Hm,” muttered Arnow. “Get me whatever you can find on them.”
Soon he had a folder. As Lupo had said, they happened all over, but not Eagle River. Weird.
Jessie
They’d all met at Sam’s again after Nick’s recon.
Lupo took her out to the back porch, where they could talk. She left the shotgun inside, so Sam could watch the front and try to keep the Grey Hawk clan calm.
“I’ve got them, Jess. They’re in a house at the end of Hemlock.”
“You tracked them there? That’s pretty remote.”
He explained everything up to spying through the windows. “I wounded one of them and so did Sam, but I don’t know how badly. I couldn’t see him. There may be others we don’t know about.”
“What about…the Creature’s instincts?” No matter how long they had been together, she still felt funny referring to the other side of Nick as a monster. But he was a masochist and insisted on it.
“Don’t extend to sniffing out others of my kind, far as I know. I never knew there were others.”
“Okay, so assuming you’re right, why are they doing this?”
“To stop the casino. That’s a guess but I don’t know why they’re doing it, or who wants it done. Not even sure it would work, unless they hope those opposed would just naturally halt the project in the face of a crisis.”
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