by Cheree Alsop
Mrs. Carso touched her arm. “You’ve been very brave. Not many would hold up so well after what you’ve been through.” She turned to me. “And I think we have you to thank for that.”
I fought back the urge to laugh at the irony. “I need a drink,” I said without thinking.
Mrs. Carso looked at me for a moment, then slid into the seat next to Grace and sighed. “I can understand how you feel. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I indulged a bit after Jason was killed.” She gave me a chiding look that was softened by the smile on her lips. “But I’d guess you’re underage, and there’s a law against werewolves consuming alcohol.”
I dropped my eyes to the table. “Drinking’s what got me here in the first place.”
“How so?” Mrs. Carso asked softly.
“A car accident. I was driving. I died, but here I am.” I swept a hand across the table, then noticed the slight marks across the back. I looked at it closer and traced the burn marks along the backs of my fingers and the scars across my knuckles. “Kaynan!” Colleen’s voice screamed in agony in the back of my mind. I closed my eyes and tried to block out her voice, but my heart bled at her pain.
“I have a fresh change of clothes for both of you,” Mrs. Carso said in a gentle voice. I opened my eyes and she met my gaze with a knowing, sad look. “Why don’t you shower down here while I help Grace?”
I touched Grace’s fingers. “Is that okay?”
She nodded. “A shower would be great.”
“For me or you?” I teased.
“Oh, definitely you,” she replied. “No wonder you can’t smell anything else.”
“Hey!” I pushed her shoulder and she laughed. Mrs. Carso helped her up from the table and I watched them leave the kitchen and start up the stairs. My heart pulled at the way Grace’s foot felt for each step and I hated the men at the lab for what they had done to her.
Chapter 7
The shower was definitely what I needed. I let the hot water beat down on my shoulders and ease the strain of the last few days from my mind. The ache in my calf had lessened considerably, and I began to appreciate a werewolf’s healing ability. I stepped out of the shower feeling better than I had in days until I glanced at my reflection in the mirror.
Dark red eyes stared back at me from a face that looked older and more haggard than the one I remembered. My hair, which had originally been black like my father’s, had a sheen of deep red among the black in the bathroom light. I touched my face and stared at my irises. What had they done to me? It felt like I stared at a stranger who looked like a beastly version of my old self, but there was no separation between the two; my features melded smoothly into that of the stranger. The anger and betrayal I felt stared out of my eyes and I had to look away.
I pulled on the clothes Mrs. Carso had set out, a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a white tee shirt along with some comfortable socks and new underwear. I glared at the mirror, then turned off the light. It was easier to look at myself in the darkness. The grays and blacks of werewolf vision softened the stark contrast of my eyes. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I ran a hand across my eyes, then left the bathroom.
That evening Jaze and the others took me to the mall because they correctly assumed I was feeling pent-up at the house. Grace didn’t mind because she said Mrs. Carso was going to teach her how to crochet, something she desperately needed because all of the other pastimes she said she used to love, reading, running, and cooking, would require a great deal of patience to learn to do again without sight. I appreciated Mrs. Carso’s understanding and willingness to give her an outlet.
We walked through several stores and grabbed some tacos at the food court, something that Jet, the quiet, black-haired Alpha, seemed to enjoy with unusual passion. I liked his calm demeanor with the barely concealed edge of steel. He was dangerous, alert, and always seemed to be on the lookout for some sort of an attack. When he caught me watching him while we walked, he glanced at my extra taco.
“You want it?” I asked.
He accepted it almost reverently and unwrapped it, then folded up the wrapper and put it in his pocket. Taye slipped her arm through his fondly and they followed Jaze and Nikki down the hall. Brock hurried past them and fumbled with a candy machine against the wall. I missed Grace’s company and the way I felt like I fit in when I was with her. I trailed slowly behind, feeling more like a fifth wheel and even less like I belonged as I caught the stares of several passersby. One boy even tugged on his mother’s sleeve and pointed at me.
“Uh, Jaze?”
He turned and I tipped my head toward the boy’s mother who now hurried her son past while avoiding my gaze.
Jaze’s face lit up with understanding and he fought back a smile. “We need to get you some sunglasses. I can’t believe I forgot.”
Brock’s brows rose as he popped a few jellybeans into his mouth. “Your eyes seem almost normal to me now. A few days ago they probably would have freaked me out.”
I fought back a wry grin. “Thanks.”
Jaze laughed. “What he means is you can get used to them, but we probably should get you some shades so you’re not apprehended for suspected drug use or something.”
“It’s the white part that turns red when you use drugs, not the irises,” I said, then kicked myself mentally for the comment.
Jaze lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
I refused to let him spend a fortune on a pair of designer glasses, so we left the mall and walked to a nearby gas station where we found a knock-off that was serviceable.
“Maybe we should all get some,” Nikki said, slipping on a bright pink pair with red tiger stripes.
“Definitely,” Jaze agreed. He put on a pair with huge yellow lenses that made him look like some kind of bug. “It might be a good idea to invest in some nonprescription contacts to hide the color,” he said as an afterthought.
“That’s not a bad idea,” I agreed, trying to take him seriously despite the glasses. “Glasses will do for now, but it’d be nice to have a long-term solution.
Taye found a pair with one lens straight across like a futuristic robot and tried to make Jet wear glasses lined with green fuzz, but he politely refused, his attention on the food warmer.
“You’re always hungry,” Taye said with a laugh.
Jet shook his head. “I’m always interested in trying something new.”
Brock shoveled several variety-flavored hot dogs into a paper liner. He paid for them at the check-out along with my glasses while heartily refusing any offer to pay him back as soon as I got a job.
“Like I told Jet a few months ago,” Brock said, biting off a hearty chunk of hot dog, then handing the rest of the bag to Jet, “I keep werewolves fed, they keep other werewolves from killing me; it’s a win-win situation.”
Jet gave him a rare smile. “Works out for both of us.”
“That it does,” Brock replied. He held up his hot dog with a flourish. “A fed wolf is a happy one.”
“In that case,” Jet said; he swiped the hotdog from Brock and took a big bite.
Brock opened his mouth to protest, then took another hotdog from Jet’s pack. He pushed open the door and we followed him outside.
An SUV rushed past us in the parking lot, turned a one-eighty with screeching tires and the smell of burning rubber, then barreled back in our direction. Adrenaline surged through my veins and I fought back the urge to phase with a rush of disgust at my base instincts.
“Get back,” Jet commanded, moving Taye behind him and shielding her with his body.
Jaze did the same thing with Nikki; Mouse and Brock also fell back to leave the Alphas in front. The SUV stopped a few yards away and my heart started to pound. Six men in black uniforms exited the vehicle, leaving only the driver inside.
“Give us Kaynan and we’ll let the rest of you go,” a tall, thick man with a shaved head and a black tattooed armband said. He motioned at me with a dark object that reflected the light when it moved. It was a gun,
no doubt loaded with silver bullets.
Two men filling up their cars at the gas station looked at each other with matching expressions of fear. My heart clenched and muscles tightened. The adrenaline in my veins boiled through my system, threatening to take away my will and turn me into a mindless, killing beast.
“Drive away and we’ll let you live.” Jet’s tone left little question that he would carry out the threat if they refused to listen.
The man who spoke gave a short bark that passed for a laugh. “Kid, you’re unarmed and outnumbered. Leave while you can.”
Jet glanced at Jaze and something passed between them. “The numbers are even,” Jet told the man. “That is, if your driver wants to get in on the action.” I saw Jaze step slightly to the right out of the corner of my eye. I took a calming breath, then slid slowly to the left.
The hiss of metal on leather met my ears and silver blades glinted in the streetlights. The five men behind the speaker suddenly looked like walking swiss army knives. The two drivers at the gas station hung up the hoses and drove away without paying, tires screeching on the black asphalt.
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” the first man said.
“I like a challenge,” Jet replied, a dangerous edge to his voice.
Jaze began to flank them. Nikki fell back to stand by Brock, her face pale and eyes on Jaze. Jet took a step toward the man with the gun. I moved to flank the other side, letting my instincts take over when common sense failed to give me an out.
“This is ridiculous,” the man with the gun said, his eyes widening. “You’re teenagers!”
Jet shrugged and an engine roared at the same time. Mouse drove Jaze’s gray SUV into the side of their vehicle. Glass shattered and the sound of metal on metal echoed loudly in the night. The driver yelled and the uniformed men scrambled to regroup. Jet and Jaze used the distraction to attack.
I froze, rooted to the spot while Jet efficiently dispatched two men with their own knives, then turned on the one with the gun. He flowed behind the man with a lethal grace and removed the man’s gun before taking him down with two discreet slices of a knife. Jaze disarmed one and used his knife to hamstring another one, then turned in time to see the last man lunging for Jet’s back. He threw the knife and it sunk deep into the man’s thigh, tearing a yell of pain from his throat. Jet turned and swept the man’s legs out from under him, then slammed a haymaker against his jaw that knocked him unconscious.
I let out a short sigh of relief, but it was cut off by the sound of more tires. Another black vehicle slid to a stop a few feet from the first and more men filed out.
“You’d think they’d get bored of black,” Brock said to Taye, his voice tight.
“It’s not like it makes them any stealthier,” Taye agreed. “Look out, Jet!” she shouted.
Two men, each with a set of silver knives, ran at the Alpha. My feet finally responded to my will and I grabbed a knife from the nearest fallen man, jumped over another body, and slammed it into the leg of one of Jet’s attackers. Jet spun and took down the other with a slash across the throat. He gave me a quick, surprisingly happy grin as though he was in his element, then turned and sunk his knife into the heart of a third man.
Four more attackers were upon us and I bit back the terror that rose in my throat with a thick, bitter taste. I caught up a blood-covered knife that was abandoned on the ground, then sliced a man across the stomach before he could reach me with his blade. Adrenaline surged through my body at the attack. I wanted to chase them down, to tear them apart and protect those I cared about. I wanted to phase so badly I had to stop moving and clench my fists to center my control. The handle of the knife bit into my hand and I held onto the pain, hoping it would keep me from phasing.
Another man attacked me with a club. My instincts took over and I ducked under it, then stabbed him in the eye. I stared in horror as he toppled to the ground. I wanted to fall to my knees and hide my face in my hands, but a grunt of pain from my right stopped me.
I turned in time to see Jet rip a knife from his shoulder, use it to cut down the one who had hit him, then throw it at a man who ran for Taye and Nikki. Jet then leaped at another attacker with a grace that would have been the envy of any leopard.
My gaze slid to a man by the destroyed SUV. I recognized him as the first man who had spoken. He lifted his hand and the gun glinted in the dim light.
“Jaze, look out!” I shouted the same time that Nikki did, but Jaze was busy fighting two other attackers. He stabbed a knife into one man’s thigh, swung a haymaker at the second man’s jaw that connected with the force of a wrecking ball, then he dropped and swept the first man’s legs with a spin kick. He rose and glanced at the man with the gun. His eyes widened as the man’s finger tightened on the trigger.
I reached Jaze and shoved him out of the way just as the report of the gun cracked across the pavement. A fiery red pain tore through my side. I turned to attack the man before he fired another shot, but Jet beat me to it. He chopped the man’s arm hard enough that I heard the bones crack, punched him in the stomach, then elbowed him in the back when he doubled over. The man fell to the pavement with a moan of pain.
I turned back to Jaze. The Alpha stared at me, his eyes wide and face pale. “Why did you do that?”
I forced a pained smile. “I overheard Meg say that silver bullets wouldn’t hurt me like they did a normal werewolf.” I grimaced and held my throbbing side. “She lied.”
Jaze's brow creased with concern. “They’re still bullets, silver or not.”
“The silver would kill you a lot faster than me,” I replied.
“You can still bleed to death before you heal.”
“I’ll remember that next time,” I said. I sank to my knees on the asphalt and stared at the bodies around us, my mind numb. A rush of commotion swirled around me, but I was oblivious to everything but the whisper of the night wind in my ears and the bite of the rocks under my knees. Lifeless eyes stared at me from the man I had stabbed in the stomach.
“I've got you,” Jet said. He grabbed my arm and slung it around his neck, then hoisted me to my feet. My rubbery legs were little help as he and Jaze lifted me into the front seat.
Taye packed a bandage against my side and instructed me to keep pressure on the wound. “Meg’ll get you fixed up and soon you’ll be good as new,” she said.
“Mom's great at patching people up,” Nikki agreed. Her voice trembled slightly and I glanced over in time to see her wipe away a tear. She hesitated, then threw her arms around my neck. “Thank you,” she whispered quickly before she shut the door and climbed in the back.
Jaze said something quietly to Mouse and the scrawny werewolf slipped out of the SUV and disappeared. He came back a few minutes later with a surveillance tape and tossed it on the floor, then started the engine and steered us silently to the freeway. He reached for the CD player and his hands shook slightly before angry lyrics and singing guitars wailed from the speakers.
“The singer’s a werewolf,” he said, his voice soft.
I glanced at him. “How do you know?” Pain coursed through my side and I winced.
“He’s my cousin.” A smile touched the werewolf’s lips, then vanished as quickly as it appeared.
I sat back in the seat and listened to lyrics about a man who found himself but lost everything in the same moment. Another jolt of pain stabbed my side and I closed my eyes. I worried about Grace and hoped the same men hadn’t found Jaze’s house. She was so vulnerable, and the protectiveness that welled in my chest when I thought of her was unfamiliar, yet so powerful that I hated leaving her. My thoughts tangled with exhaustion, pain, and the memory of the soft, trusting touch of Grace’s fingers in mine.
Chapter 8
“We’re home,” a voice said by my ear.
I felt a rush of fresh air pass my face before I opened my eyes to see the door open and Jaze standing next to it. “Do you need help to Meg’s?”
“Is Grace alri
ght?” I asked quietly.
Jaze nodded, concern in his eyes at my condition. “They didn’t come here. I’m sure she’s anxious to see you, but we’d better get you patched up first.”
I wanted to go straight to Grace and make sure she was alright before I went to Meg’s, but Jaze was right. Showing up the way I felt would probably just worry her more. I tried to push myself up, but a wave of nausea and dizziness rushed through me at the loss of blood and the memory of killing people. I closed my eyes against the tilting world and nodded. “A little help would be good,” I said quietly.
Jaze and Jet helped me from the SUV and practically carried me across the lawn and into Meg and Roger’s house. Nikki had run ahead and both of her parents were waiting in the sterile room when we walked in. “You must like it here,” Meg said dryly.
“Nothing like having a bullet removed to remind you that you’re alive,” I replied in a tight voice as Taye removed the bandages and Jaze helped me lie down on the table.
Meg turned her attention to the wound and didn’t reply, though the corners of her lips pulled into a begrudging smile. I gritted my teeth at the prodding of cold instruments against tender skin and turned my head away while she worked.
Jet sat on a metal chair close to the wall while Taye scrubbed the knife wound in his shoulder and began to stitch it up. His shirt was off and for the first time I saw a patchwork of scars across his body, or to be more accurate, a patchwork of body between the innumerable scars. I couldn’t help but stare at a series of slashes across his chest and stomach, and followed one up his neck only to find him watching me. His gaze was hard and unreadable. I dropped my eyes and concentrated on the floor instead.
An unexpectedly sharp probe made me grab at the table, then Meg let out a breath and held up something between what looked like thin serving tongs. “Got it,” she said triumphantly. “I’m getting faster at that.”
“You sure are, honey,” Roger replied with a proud grin.
He held out a sandwich bag and Meg dropped the bullet into it. “Silver,” she said with a sigh. She met my eyes. “Good thing you seem to be immune to it, at least as far as the metal’s concerned. You’ll be almost as good as new tomorrow.”
