Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles #2)

by Nancy Holder

  One more reason for them to kill her.

  The storefront blurred past, and then they pulled up outside Babette’s. The store’s windows still held memorial signs for Haley and Becky — the two girls who had died. Would there soon be a missing person poster going up with Cordelia’s face on it?

  “I’ve got some errands to do, and I figure you don’t need me hanging around pressuring you to buy something with a longer skirt or a higher neckline,” he said with a half-grin. “So, why don’t we divide and conquer?”

  “Okay. Meet at Cowffeine after we’re done?” she asked.

  “Sounds okay.”

  She slid out of the car and then stood on the sidewalk as he pulled away, before turning and walking inside the shop. Her grandfather was in control of her money, meager as it was, until she turned eighteen, and she had only a few dollars to spend.

  Babette’s was a funky consignment clothing store with fashions and disasters from several decades crammed in together. Cordelia had told her it was the place to go shopping and had taken her there a couple of times.

  Babette, an attractive middle-aged woman, looked up from a crossword and then hopped off her stool and came around to Katelyn.

  “Kat! How are you?”

  “Good,” Katelyn said, tamping down her rush of anxiety. It hurt to come into the store without Cordelia. And not to be able to tell a single soul that Cordelia’s own family had driven her out.

  “What can I help you with?”

  “I’m just looking for a dress for a night at the theater.”

  Babette’s eyebrows shot up. “A play, around here? I haven’t heard of anything.”

  Katelyn shook her head as she surveyed the racks, mostly to cover her discomfort. “No, actually, it’s in Little Rock. My grandpa is taking me to see the Cirque du Soleil. The tickets were a birthday present.”

  “Well, a belated happy birthday, dear!” She beamed at Katelyn. “I’m sure we can find you something special.”

  Katelyn tried to politely wave her off. “I can look on my own.”

  “Nonsense. Birthday girls get the royal treatment.”

  They moved among the racks and Katelyn felt awkward as Babette kept up a steady stream of chatter, pulling first one, then another dress out for her inspection.

  “I’m surprised Cordelia isn’t with you today,” Babette said.

  Katelyn inspected the price tag on a blouse she had no interest in buying. “She’s . . . not feeling well.” She didn’t know what else to say. She wondered just how the Fenners planned on explaining her absence to people.

  Babette pulled a sad face. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “I think I’ll try on this one,” Katelyn said, reaching for a little black dress.

  “Oh, I bet that will look just lovely on you, dear.”

  Katelyn headed back toward the front of the store and stepped into one of the two dressing rooms. She slipped off her jeans and sweater and piled them on the minuscule bench, then took the dress off the hanger. Just then, the bell over the front door chimed and she could hear footsteps.

  “Hello, Babette,” an older woman called.

  “Well, hello, you two. Do you need any help?”

  “Here it is, Mama,” a younger woman said. “This is it.”

  “I think we’re set, Babette,” the older woman said.

  Katelyn pulled on the dress and tried to look at herself in the mirror in the cramped dressing room. It seemed so strange that she had last been there with Cordelia and it felt weird to be picking out a dress when so much was going wrong. She nearly laughed at the thought — she had said nearly the same thing to her friend when they were trying to pick out Halloween costumes. Cordelia had insisted, though, that the show had to go on.

  The door to the other dressing room opened. There was a lot of rustling, and then it closed again.

  “What’s wrong with Steve?” the older woman whispered. “He’s a catch.”

  “Catch? Mama, please, are you serious?” the younger woman whispered back. “Besides, his daddy will make sure he marries up, you know?”

  Katelyn paused. The only Steve she knew in town was Steve Berglund, a werewolf who had been one of Cordelia’s suitors. They couldn’t be talking about him, could they?

  The older woman made a snorting sound. “Well, Dan’s big plans for that died when . . . she . . . did.”

  Katelyn’s heart stuttered. It was werewolf Steve they were talking about. Steve Berglund's father was named Dan, and he had wanted Steve to marry Cordelia. They were talking about Cordelia as if she were dead. But she wasn’t, only banished. Unless they knew something she didn’t. She moved closer to the wall, listening intently.

  “Do you think Mr. Fenner will change his mind?” the younger woman murmured.

  “I know you liked her, sissy, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. She’s gone.” Her voice rose a little. “And I’m certain Mr. Fenner knows what is best for his family.”

  Tears welled and Katelyn shut her eyes tightly, relieved that Cordelia wasn’t really dead — not that they knew — and miserable because she lived in a world now where things like that were a real possibility.

  “I’m still not going after Steve,” the younger woman said.

  “Then why are we here?” her mother replied with asperity.

  There was a sudden knocking on Katelyn’s door that sounded as loud as gunfire. She jerked, but managed to keep silent.

  “Kat, honey, how’d that fit?” Babette asked.

  “Umm, fine,” she said, freaking out. The mother and daughter in the other dressing room would have to know that she’d overheard them.

  “Well, come on out here and let us see,” Babette insisted.

  Katelyn opened the door and stepped out, smoothing down the dress. It was black, simple and elegant with white straps, a sweetheart neckline and a full skirt that swirled just above her knees. She knew it showed off her legs well. She executed a little turn, then smiled at Babette — a smile that faltered when the other dressing-room door opened.

  “Perfect,” Babette said, cocking her head, appraising her. “What do you ladies think?”

  “Lovely,” the older woman said, a chill in her voice. Katelyn recognized her at once: her name was Myrna, and she was a werewolf.

  “Looks like everyone needs something special,” Myrna’s daughter said. Katelyn had forgotten her name, but they’d been forced to kiss each other’s cheeks when Katelyn had been introduced to the pack — the standard method of greeting from werewolf to werewolf within the pack. She was pretty with tapered, curly hair that framed a cherubic face, big brown eyes, and cupid-bow lips.

  “This didn’t work,” the girl added, fingering the fabric of the dress she wore.

  “We’ll find you the perfect dress, Hannah,” Babette said.

  Hannah. The name suited her. Hannah glanced sideways and gave Katelyn a hesitant smile and Katelyn smiled back.

  “Ladies, you’ve all met, right?” Babette said cheerfully.

  Katelyn nodded slightly.

  “How are you, Kat?” Myrna asked.

  “Good,” she lied. “You?”

  “Just fine.”

  And this couldn’t be more awkward if we tried.

  “You know, I think I’ll take this,” Katelyn said to Babette. “Let me just go get changed.”

  She hurried back into the dressing room and quickly put her other clothes back on, then forced herself to walk back out. She saw with relief that Myrna and Hannah were at the very back of the store so she hurried over to the cash register and presented Babette with the dress.

  “You looked so pretty in this,” the older woman gushed.

  “Thanks.”

  Babette put the dress in a bag. “Tell Cordelia I said hello and not to forget about those winter formals I’ll have coming in.”

  “I will,” Katelyn said faintly.

  She hurried out onto the sidewalk and lost her composure for just a second. She guessed it was to be expected. S
ooner or later she had to run into other members of the pack in town by accident. She’d just hoped the day would come much, much later.

  She walked toward the coffee shop, grateful for cold, crisp air that made her blood sing — a brief moment of pleasure. Before Wolf Springs, she’d lived her whole life in southern California where it rarely got this cold, but she liked it.

  She walked inside Cowffeine, the cute little coffee shop that sported a cartoon cow wearing an enormous cow bell on its sign. She ordered herself a hot chocolate and sat down at a table near the windows on the far side of the café with her back to the door, not eager to encounter anyone else she might know while she waited for her grandfather to finish his errands. She made a mental note to ask Justin how she was supposed to handle accidental meet-ups with other pack members. Should she treat them like friends, strangers, or acquaintances?

  “This is so screwed up,” she whispered to herself.

  People were talking around her, but Katelyn tried to focus on her hot chocolate, how it smelled, how it tasted. Then she heard footsteps behind her. They came to a stop.

  “Hey, sexy. Whassup?”

  She froze. No way. Not now. Then she pivoted and looked into the face of Mike Wright, resident asshat of Wolf Springs High, and his smarmy smile vanished.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he managed, clearly shocked.

  “Uh, yeah, who did you think it was?” she asked, her anger rising. He was a bully and a jerk who had dissed Cordelia at every chance, and he was always baiting Trick. She knew the two boys had been in a couple of actual fights and she was sure he was the one who’d slashed Trick’s tires on her first day at Wolf Springs High.

  He flushed. “Someone a lot hotter than you,” he said, before turning and stalking toward the front of the café.

  She forced herself to take a deep breath. Of all the people to accidentally hit on her. She felt her lips curl in disgust.

  Shoot me instead. She was only half joking.

  Suddenly there was a commotion outside and she turned around just in time to see Mike through the picture window. He was taking a swing at Trick, who must have been on his way in. Taller, panther-lithe, sinewy and agile, Trick easily ducked the punch, and Mike tried again. This time Mike connected with Trick’s jaw and Trick’s cowboy hat blew off as his head snapped backwards. Recovering, he swung back, hard, and socked Mike in his doughy midsection. Mike staggered, balled both fists, and lunged at Trick again.

  A surge of heat rushed through Katelyn as she flew toward the door.

  She wanted to see Trick beat Mike senseless. She wanted Trick to kill him. She really did.

  Her vision telescoped, as it had been doing ever since the bite, and she could see Trick’s green eyes blazing with anger and surprise. The bruise already forming on his square, mocha-brown jaw was ugly proof that Mike deserved a world of pain.

  An arm came around Trick and grabbed him across the chest. Katelyn blinked and her vision went back to normal as, with a start, she realized that it was her grandfather who had hold of Trick. The muscles in the older man’s arms flexed as he struggled to contain him. Another man was dragging Mike away from Trick.

  Katelyn joined the coffee-house customers spilling outside. Her grandfather looked like he was now lecturing Trick. Trick was standing a few yards away, head bowed deferentially, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

  Mordecai McBride looked up and saw Kat. He walked over and took her bag from her. “We’re parked over there,” he said, pointing across the street.

  “I’ll just be a minute.” Katelyn looked over at Trick, and her grandfather grunted and headed for the truck.

  She walked up to Trick, awkward and tongue-tied, although why should she be? He’d been in plenty of fights before. But she couldn’t help but stare at the bruising around his jawline. A thrill ran through her and she took a deep breath. Apparently her inner wolf approved of the fight.

  “Hey,” she said. “Can I get you anything? Ice pack? Anger management classes?”

  Trick looked at her, shoulders hunched and wearing a scowl that sharpened the angles and hollows of his face. Even sullen and tousled, he was breathtakingly hot.

  “What happened?” she asked, more kindly.

  Trick reached out, pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. Over his shoulder Katelyn spotted Hannah and Myrna staring; Hannah had apparently found a dress because she was carrying a bag, and Katelyn felt a fillip of fear. She didn’t want them reporting back to Lee Fenner that she had a boyfriend, and a human one at that. That would put Trick in even more danger than he already was.

  She pushed him in the chest, just hard enough to get him to let go and step back. “We’ll talk later,” she whispered, afraid that the other werewolves would hear but knowing that she had to say something to him. Then, before he had a chance to respond, she walked toward the truck.

  3

  “Boys can be idiots, sometimes,” her grandfather said after they had driven out of town and into the forest.

  “Yeah, well,” Katelyn muttered. She was still replaying what had happened in her mind, and how angry she had felt. Rather than stand by and watch the fight, she wished she could have joined in. It was as Justin had said – everything felt more extreme.

  But I controlled myself, she thought proudly. Better than Trick, that’s for sure.

  “Your new tires haven’t come in yet. The boy will have to drive you to school tomorrow morning.” He glanced over at her. “That going to be okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, because really, what was the alternative? Having her grandfather drive her? “I wonder why Trick can’t just get along better at school?” It was a poor shadow of her real question.

  “This is the last year. Then he’s free and clear.”

  Wrong, she thought. If he stays in Wolf Springs, he’s not clear by half. And then she reconsidered. Why should he stay in Wolf Springs? Maybe they could leave together.

  Just . . . go.

  On Monday morning, she was relieved to see Trick’s vintage green Mustang pull up outside the cabin to drive her to school. He was wearing his sheepherder’s jacket and his black cowboy hat against the chill, and except for an incredible bruise on his chin he looked good. As the sun rose, they shared coffee and toast with her grandfather, then left for Wolf Springs.

  As soon as they were in the car he turned to look at her. “I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “For whatever I did that got me big-time dissed.”

  “We’re good,” she said, but she had a struggle to know what to do or say after that. She couldn’t pull him close, but the thought of pushing him away was a cold, sharp blade just under her heart. Finally she gave up and kept herself busy on the drive by texting Kimi, her best friend back in Los Angeles. But it was five in the morning in L.A. so there was no reply. And there might not be. When Katelyn had moved to Wolf Springs, they had drifted apart, and she missed the contact.

  Niki and the Dove was on Trick’s iPod, filling the Mustang with quirky Swedish voices singing in English. Blasting through the forest as usual, he kept glancing at her as he drove. But whenever she looked back over at him, his attention was fixed on the narrow, winding road. He seemed to be on the verge of asking or saying something, but he was holding back; she fidgeted with her phone just for something to do.

  She and Trick sped into the foreboding tunnel of trees that completely blocked out the sun. The space left for vehicles was impossibly narrow, yet Trick shot through it as if they were being fired out of a cannon. He seemed incapable of driving slowly.

  Wolf Springs High consisted mainly of a large, two-story wooden building with a pitched roof encrusted with overhanging turrets and dormer windows. There were wrap-around porches on both floors. On top of the building an LED sign glowed scarlet through the early-morning gloom, the zipper of letters reading W-O-L-F-C-O-U-N-T-R-Y.

  Heads turned as they walked into school together and Kat supposed people were beginning to speculate that they were a couple. She wondered if Trick thought
they were.

  When she’d arrived in Wolf Springs, she’d been the five hundredth student. Now, by her count, they were down to four hundred and ninety-six. Two dead, one moved, one kicked out of the house. But it felt to Katelyn as if the entire remaining student body was crammed into the narrow corridor: the din of voices and slamming lockers, the body heat — it was oppressive, smothering. Before her change last Friday, she hadn’t minded it all so much. But now every sound, every jostle from passing students, assaulted her like a body blow.

  “Take care, darlin’,” Trick said, and he bobbed his head closer, as if he were about to kiss her. Then he stopped himself, gave her a mock-cautious salute, and walked the other way. Part of her was still poised in hope, waiting for that kiss.

  Katelyn had braced herself to see Cordelia’s empty desk, but as she slid into her seat beside it, the reality of what had happened hit home. She heard the bell ring, but couldn’t tear her attention away from the vacant space. Around her, people were still talking; life was going on. Moving on.

  But that desk was empty.

  Somehow, class hadn’t started yet. Then Mrs. Walker, the office lady, came bustling in. She explained that she was subbing for Mr. Henderson, who was absent.

  Katelyn rose unsteadily, gathered up her things, and went over to Mrs. Walker, who was putting her stuff down on the desk. Mrs. Walker smiled at Katelyn and lifted her brows.

  “I — I don’t feel good,” Katelyn told her. Mrs. Walker was also Wolf Spring High’s equivalent of a nurse. “Headache . . . possible migraine. Can I go lie down?” There was a sick room with a cot next to the principal’s office.

  Mrs. Walker pulled a concerned face and nodded. “Okay, but check in with me once you’re feeling better, all right?”

  “I will,” Katelyn promised.

  She left the room and trudged down the hall. Smells rolled down the corridor like waves on the beach — perfumes, body odors, coffee. Now that she had said she had a headache, a real one was threatening to erupt.