Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles #2)

by Nancy Holder

  Somewhere in the darkness, a growl echoed off the walls.

  It was followed almost immediately by the crash of splintering wood as the ancient railing gave way beneath Trick’s hand and plummeted into the darkness. Trick began to fall as well, yanking Katelyn off balance. She landed hard on her knees, throwing out her free hand to stop herself from nose-diving over the edge while the flashlight cartwheeled end over end, casting crazy shadows over the walls and ceiling before shattering on the floor.

  Trick was trying to cling to another part of the banister but it, too, gave way with a crack, and a moment later he was dangling above the inky darkness, holding tightly to Katelyn’s hand. He was going to fall — probably die — if she couldn’t save him.

  Adrenaline surged through every cell, every nerve, and she stretched out her legs, testing the base of the banister with her feet, trying to find a solid section to brace herself against. Finally she found one and she reached down and caught Trick’s free hand, then arched her back, pulling for all she was worth.

  Trick practically came flying and he landed on top of her with a grunt. He quickly rolled over and sat up.

  “She shoots, she scores,” he said. “Thank you, gymnastics.”

  “And a lot of adrenaline,” she added quickly, covering for the fact that she had just shown far more strength than she should have.

  He jumped to his feet and helped her up. “Superkat, you saved my life.”

  Before she could say anything, the hair on the back of her neck raised as another growl erupted close at hand. Menacing, threatening. She turned slowly.

  A large German shepherd was crouched a few steps below them, fangs exposed, eyes flashing. It was a guard dog, she realized with renewed panic, which meant there were probably people from the Wolf Center on their way to catch the intruders.

  The dog growled low in its throat; a warning, a challenge.

  “Easy, boy,” Trick said.

  It snapped its jaws at him and he drew back his hand.

  “Not easy,” he said. “What are we going to do?”

  Katelyn heard more growling, lower, deeper. It’s coming from me. She didn’t know what to do but she went with her gut. Hoping the darkness concealed her actions, she curled her own lips up, revealing her plain, ordinary human teeth.

  At least, she hoped they were human. She had been told that older members of the pack could change at will, but that couldn’t happen to her, could it? Impossible. She was young and she’d only been a werewolf for a few weeks. But she shouldn’t be able to touch silver, and she could.

  What if Trick sees? What if I hurt him?

  She could feel her mind racing into overdrive as she allowed her wolf-part to begin to show, to project itself toward the German shepherd, her low growl still rumbling in the back of her throat. And the dog whined and dropped his head and tail.

  She blinked in shock. He had backed down. From me. She held her hand out and he came forward and licked it.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Trick said, edging around the dog.

  She nodded. She gave the dog a gentle pat on the head and trailed after Trick, running her tongue over her teeth. They still felt human. And she was no longer growling.

  They made it to the ground floor and were almost at the front door, the dog trotting next to them, submissive. Something pricked at the back of her mind. Something was still wrong and she suddenly realized what it was: the dog’s nails weren’t making a clicking sound on the marble. They must have been clipped short.

  But she had heard a clicking sound.

  That meant that something else was stalking them.

  With a cry she grabbed Trick’s arm, tore through the door and flew back toward the Mustang. When they reached the fence, she shoved him through and his sleeve tore on one of the corners. She stopped, trying to collect the incriminating fabric, but it just shredded into a smaller piece. And there was no time, for in the back of her mind she could still hear the clicking of phantom nails.

  Trick had reached the Mustang and was yanking open the driver’s side door.

  Moving on, Katelyn caught the glint of something silver on the ground in the bushes and her eyes seemed to zoom in on it: a piece of flatware — a knife — with a shield and a rose on the handle. It resembled the McBride stained glass coat of arms in the cabin window. A piece of the silver stolen from her grandfather’s cabin? For a moment she thought about grabbing it and going back to use it on the fabric stuck in the fence, but she could feel something watching her so she left the knife where it lay and jumped into Trick’s car.

  “Go, go, go!” she shouted as soon as she’d closed the door.

  He took off fast, the truck fishtailing around the first turn. “What happened, Kat?” he panted, sucking in air. “What did you see?”

  “I think . . . I think there was another dog,” she said.

  “Damn, girl,” he said, sliding a glance at her as he chuckled. “You handled that like a superspy.”

  “My friend back home raised dogs,” she lied.

  “Kimi?”

  “Different friend.”

  They drove in silence for a minute or two. Finally Trick spoke. “Okay, next time front door.”

  “We have a problem,” she announced.

  He looked at her.

  “We left part of your shirt behind, and fingerprints and stuff. And I saw a piece of my grandmother’s stolen silver by the fence.”

  His brows shot up. “Let’s see it.”

  “I left it.” She made a face. “I freaked out and I just kept running.” She looked at him. “I can’t exactly tell the police I found it while breaking and entering.”

  “Which side of the fence was it on?” He started to turn the car around. They would fishtail again if he wasn’t careful. “Inside is trespassing, or B and E. Outside is happening by. And how freaky is that? So did one of those crazy bastards break into your house?”

  Kat paused to think on this. Then, “Does the sheriff have an anonymous tip line?” she asked.

  He blinked. “I have no idea. Despite the rumors, I’m not all that knowledgeable about my friendly law enforcement agency.” He looked at her. “We have to go back.” At her disbelieving expression, he added, “Soon.”

  Katelyn felt like an idiot for not grabbing the knife as they fled, but she was still buzzing with adrenaline on the way back to the school parking lot. She didn’t really know what Trick had hoped to accomplish, but it had been a daredevil thing to break in in broad daylight. What had Cordelia liked to say about Trick? That he was unpredictable?

  And I went along with it all, she thought. What if we had gotten caught?

  “You’re thinking very hard over there,” Trick said. “Processing our walk on the wild side? Or looking forward to your weekend?”

  “My . . .?” She caught her breath. Her grandfather was taking her to the Cirque du Soleil show in Little Rock. She had completely forgotten about it, impossible as that seemed since the Cirque had been all she had dreamed about for years. Dreamed about joining.

  “Yes,” she said. “Can’t wait.”

  His smile was intense, and his hand brushed hers as he shifted gears. Alone with a boy, in a car, danger. But Trick was Trick. An exception to all rules.

  They pulled into the school lot. There was a scattering of cars — probably teachers — and Trick came around to the side to let her out, but he suddenly seemed distracted as he walked her to her car, looking around, frowning, while she got out her keys.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asked.

  Then she saw the Confederate flag car skulking from around the back of the school. Mike Wright. Her vision telescoped and she could see through the windshield the pigfaced jerk behind the wheel. She felt a sudden wave of extreme fury and balled her fists, barely under control.

  “You should leave,” Trick said.

  She gritted her teeth, then forced herself to remain calm. “We should leave.” She looked at him. “C’mon, Trick.”

&n
bsp; Mike revved his engine. Trick tensed and glanced over at his Mustang. A muscle jumped in his cheek as if her temper flare were contagious.

  “Oh, my God, are you thinking of racing him?” Katelyn blurted. “Are you as much of a Neanderthal as he is?”

  Then the roar of a motorcycle overshadowed Mike’s engine as Justin rode down the street toward the lot. Trick’s mouth dropped open and he looked from Justin’s motorcycle to Katelyn.

  “No. Kat, really?” he said incredulously.

  As Justin approached, Mike peeled out, making a show of swerving around Katelyn and Trick and heading in Justin’s direction. Justin kept coming. So did Mike. At the last possible moment Mike swerved — and wound up driving onto the sidewalk, bumping his front end against the tarmac. Katelyn felt a momentary flash of dark glee, then glanced over at Trick. He’d missed Mike’s clumsy exit; his gaze was focused laser-like on Justin as the motorcycle rolled to a stop a few feet away.

  “Okay, well,” Trick said, and walked to his car.

  “Trick,” Katelyn called, but Trick got in and slammed his car door. Katelyn reached out a hand in his direction, but he started the car and peeled out much the same way as Mike. She watched him go, feeling guilty, angry, sad . . . and relieved. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t feel this way about Trick. She was a werewolf.

  “Lee wants you over now,” Justin said. “He’s going to train you himself today.”

  She realized Justin had shown up just as the normal school day would have ended. He hadn’t known about minimum day. She made a face.

  “Here’s the thing. My grandfather bought tickets for a show in Little Rock for my birthday. It’s this weekend and we’re leaving as soon as I get home.”

  Justin stared at her as if she’d spoken to him in a foreign language. She forced herself not to cringe or apologize and waited for him to say something.

  “You can’t just leave,” he said. “The alpha didn’t give you permission.”

  “Um, I’m not leaving,” she said hotly. “I’m going to Little Rock.”

  He turned off his motorcycle, kicked down the stand, and got off. He walked toward her and, without thinking, she took a step away from him. He stopped.

  “I know you’re new at this,” he said.

  “There’s no way I can tell Grandpa I’m not going so I can go over to your house,” she said. “Justin, he’s my grandfather. I live with him. I’m a minor and he’s in charge of me. Legally. He also knows what a big deal this is to me so he’d be sure to guess something is wrong. Be suspicious. Of the Fenners.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. Then he said quietly, “Maybe we have to change things. Maybe you shouldn’t be living with your grandfather any longer.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she cried. She made a fist and shook it at him. “Don’t you dare touch him!”

  “You,” he said, grabbing her fist. Then he pulled her against his chest. All she could see was his blue eyes. “You are my pack inferior. You never tell me what to do.”

  “Fine!” she shouted at him, but her voice shook. “Whatever!”

  He took a breath and lowered his head toward hers, then stopped at the last moment and released her, breathing hard. He stepped back and whipped out his cell phone. Punched in a number. Brought it to his ear.

  “Hi, Uncle Lee,” he said. “We got a bit of a situation today.” He quickly explained. “I know, sir.” He held out the phone. “He wants to speak to you.”

  “Kat,” Lee Fenner said on speaker. “This time, it’s okay. Next time, it’s not.”

  “Okay,” she said. Justin mouthed Yes, sir at her. “Yes, sir.”

  “One word, one, and your grandfather won’t come back from Little Rock.”

  She felt as if he had punched her in the stomach. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll be home soon, Uncle Lee,” Justin said.

  “Get some ice cream,” Lee Fenner said. “Your daddy loves mint chocolate chip.”

  Color rose in Justin’s cheeks. “Yes, sir.” He disconnected.

  Katelyn said, “I’m sorry.”

  “You check in with me while you’re gone. Text me. Tell me where you are.”

  “Okay,” she said, and he looked meaningfully at her. She blinked in disbelief. “Yes, sir.”

  “And, Kat?” He looked in the direction Trick’s Mustang had gone, and his face became guarded. “Remember the way it works? If you bite someone, even a little love nip, and accidentally draw blood, they change. And if they change, they’re dead for sure.”

  She was floored. He was talking about Trick. About making out with him.

  “For sure,” he repeated. There was anger in his voice. Jealousy. He started up his motorcycle and roared off.

  “Jerk,” she said, as tears welled in her eyes. “Like I would.”

  Everything looked strange, foreign, as Katelyn drove home through the woods toward the cabin. The trees were all different, but not in any special way. Even though there was only one route, she kept wondering if she was going in the right direction. She felt weirdly light, as if she were floating.

  She remembered after her father died, her mother had curled into a ball on the floor in a corner of the living room and said something in French over and over again. Katelyn couldn’t understand her, but she had crept down beside her and they held each other. After a long time, Giselle had said in English, “Is this still our house?”

  Detective Cranston, one of her father’s police friends — he had many friends in the force — had taken Katelyn aside and explained that her mother was disoriented from the sheer amount of stress she was under. He told Katelyn that she needed to take care of her. And Katelyn had.

  But who is taking care of me? she thought now, trying to shake it off. I don’t need taking care of. I’m seventeen.

  But the entire exchange between Lee and Justin had freaked her out. Permission? To go to Little Rock? How was she ever going to get out of Wolf Springs and have a real life? Was her future really going to be so strictly controlled?

  She took a deep breath and said aloud, “You will get out. You will make it happen.” Things would change. Lee Fenner would be replaced. She would earn that new alpha’s trust, and then her freedom. She’d get out.

  She had just about calmed herself down when she rounded the last corner before coming into view of the cabin and saw Trick’s Mustang parked out front. She flinched. What was he doing there?

  She got out slowly and walked up the steps onto the porch. Opening the door, the first things she saw were an old, battered suitcase and a duffel bag by the front door — her grandfather’s luggage, she supposed.

  Trick and her grandfather were bustling around in the kitchen, Trick rinsing dishes while her grandfather gave her a wave with a kitchen knife.

  Mordecai looked at her inquisitively as he finished cutting a sandwich — she smelled cheese and salami — and laid it on a plate. He’d made two. One for him and one for Trick.

  “Oh, hi. I—” she babbled.

  “Hi. Sandwich?” Mordecai asked.

  “Yes, thanks. Just cheese.” Even though she wanted the salami. But she was on record as being a vegetarian and didn’t want to raise any more red flags.

  She glanced at Trick, whose face was turned as he scrubbed a coffee cup as if getting it clean was a matter of life or death. Apparently he hadn’t told her grandfather about the piece of silver she’d seen. That surprised her, since the two seemed so close. He set the cup down and looked at her with hooded eyes.

  “Surprise,” he said.

  Her grandfather started making the sandwich. “I thought you might like it if we took a friend with us, so I got another ticket to the show. I figured you’d invite . . .” Mordecai drifted off, and cleared his throat. “I just asked Trick.”

  Cordelia. He’d thought Cordelia would be going with us. Katelyn’s chest tightened. She’d be going with Trick now, instead. She told herself that given what had happened in the parking lot, she wasn’t sure she w
anted to spend a weekend with him. But who was she kidding? And what could she do about it anyway?

  She turned to Trick. “I — I’m glad you’re coming,” she said, her face going hot.

  “Thanks,” he bit off. “Me, too.” So there was to be a truce, but they weren’t in the best of places. That was better than having to salute him and call him “sir.”

  Sheesh.

  Her grandfather looked from one to the other, and then occupied himself with getting something out of the fridge, grinning slyly. “We should head out soon.” He glanced out the kitchen window. Clouds had rolled in, and the day was gray. “Might rain.”

  “Gimme five,” she told him. “Ten,” she amended. She hadn’t packed and she still wanted to look at that old drawing again.

  She spun on her heel and dashed upstairs. She took a moment to retrieve the old parchment from her underwear drawer and unfolded it. There was the rock-shaped heart and behind it, a waterfall, just like in the painting that had hung downstairs: it had to be the location of the mine.

  She quickly threw some clothes into her father’s leather suitcase engraved with his initials SKM — Sean Kevin McBride — on a brass plate, making sure to pack her new dress from Babette’s very carefully. Then she slipped into clean jeans and a turtleneck the color of her light blue eyes. After running a brush through her hair she trotted back downstairs.

  “All set,” she said, as she picked up the cheese sandwich her grandfather had made. She devoured it while her grandfather put away the dishes Trick had washed and they all then piled into her grandfather’s truck, Katelyn sitting on the front seat between them. She had thought about suggesting that they take her Subaru, but that would have meant Trick would be in the back seat.

  I shouldn’t care, she thought.

  Her grandfather put the truck in drive and a moment later they were rolling away from the cabin.

  “We’re off,” he announced, sounding more excited than she’d ever heard him. Maybe he needed this trip just as much as she did.

  “And as an added bonus,” Trick said, “I mixed a playlist.”

  “Remember the rule,” her grandfather growled, though the corners of his mouth twitched.