I shared a secret smile with my grandmother before turning to watch a new show on the TV. My mind drifted for a bit. The show was of no interest to me since the commercials didn’t offer any Christmas sales yet. From the galley kitchen, I heard Pete complain about the generous portions Aggie put on her plate.
“That’s my food. Do you mind?” he grated.
Aggie chortled. I could imagine the expression on her face. “How about I call Thorn and tell him you’re working under the influence?”
Pete had the common sense to realize Aggie was not the kind of woman he wanted to tangle with. He emerged from the kitchen with a small portion of food on his plate and anger glittering in his dark eyes.
Aggie and my aunt ate their food at the dining room table off the living room. I took a seat next to Aggie and couldn’t help but say, “You could’ve tried to be nice.”
She pushed a small plate of Chinese takeout in my direction. I shook my head since the food reeked of a strange scent, strong and bitter, like mushrooms. I didn’t want to tell her about my paranoia regarding the local Chinese buffet earth witch chef. She took natural foods to the next level. I’m all for pesticide-free food. The cleaner the better. But herbs that came from earth demons promising to cut you a deal if you release them from the third level of hell don’t count. They sure as hell didn’t have an FDA-approved stamp on their backsides.
Aggie beamed like a proud pup with a fresh kill under its paw. She added my share to her plate with a “more-for-me” sigh. “Olga told me that I did it in the most refined way possible.”
Refined as a pit viper, I thought.
Aunt Olga offered my grandmother a plate of sweet-and-sour chicken, but she declined too. As she’d gotten older, I’d noticed that she wasn’t as adventurous in her food choices. So I fetched some chicken noodle soup to share with her.
Not long after we ate, the late morning turned into a lazy early afternoon. Like glazed hams stewing in their juices, Aunt Olga and Aggie leisurely watched TV while my grandmother knitted. She’d done a fine job of converting the sweater she’d planned to make for Alex into a blanket for the baby.
Grandma loved to knit, and encouraged my mother and me to try it out, even though we always turned her down. What little time we all had together was precious, so we took a few minutes sorting through colors in Aunt Olga’s room. Once she was settled, we returned to the living room to watch some more TV.
Not long after, I noticed that my grandmother had finished her soup, so I picked up the bowls and put them into the sink. When I returned to the living room, I saw Aggie fast asleep on the couch, with her arm holding her head up. Her hair fell over half her face. Aunt Olga, ever the lady, had curled up to sleep on her side.
“When did this happen?” I asked Grandma with a grin.
“I don’t know.” The rapid movements of her hands slowed down. The needles had occupied her for most of the day.
I plopped down on the couch next to Aggie. She didn’t budge. Matter of fact, she flopped forward and landed in a heap on the floor.
I wished I’d reached for her instead of yelping after I watched her fall. The side of her head hit the coffee table with a cringe-inducing thud. For several seconds, I sat there, my mouth flapping like a goldfish out of its bowl. The whole scene seemed twisted. Aunt Olga unmoving on her side, Aggie lying prone on the floor. Neither of them woke up when I shook them hard. This wasn’t good.
Grandma whispered, “Alex?”
I jumped up and rushed to the second bedroom.
The curtains had been drawn, so my eyes had to adjust to the only light source, a single lamp in one corner of the room. Pete’s food caught my eye first. The rice and colorful stir-fry had spilled on the carpet. A dirty hand, palm up, lay a few feet from the pile. Pete’s chest was the only thing that moved. I stepped over him and checked on my brother.
I gently shook his shoulders, but he didn’t respond. The only sound in the room was the pitter-patter of the rain against the windows. I leaned close to his face, pulling up his eyelids to examine his eyes. Unfocused irises stared back at me. With each deep breath he expelled, I caught the scent of the Chinese food.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
The food.
I staggered to stand, my stomach twisting again and again. My body froze while a thousand thoughts crossed my mind. Who had done this? Would everyone die from the drugs they’d been given? How had they poisoned our food?
“Natalya?” My grandmother interrupted my thoughts from the doorway.
“They’re both alive,” I managed.
Time to call in help. I spotted a phone on an end table and picked it up. There wasn’t a dial tone, only the sound when another phone in the house has been left off the hook. The faint hiss of someone listening on the line.
“You planning on making a phone call?” a male voice asked.
“Who is this?” I whispered.
The voice laughed, deep and low. “You thought no one would notice the Long Island pack in the area?” Silence filled the line while he waited for his words to sink in. “A beaten-down dog’s always easy pickings. I wonder who gets the spoils first?” A disturbing sound—the thud of a dropped phone—and then the line went completely silent. Not good. Not good at all.
Now, stuck in a town house whose only occupants were me, my knocked-out relatives, my wounded brother, and an elderly werewolf, I was the only one who could defend us from a whole new threat: a different pack of werewolves closing in on their vulnerable prey.
Chapter 17
Every second that I wasted freaking out gave me less time to achieve my goal: protect my family.
After hearing a faint creak from below, I rushed to the kitchen and slammed the basement door shut. It was clear, though, that the flimsy lock wouldn’t hold. I scrambled through the galley kitchen. The chairs weren’t the right size to wedge under the knob. Nothing in the drawers of value. No screwdrivers to jam in the door. I couldn’t find anything to help me—even though the woman’s kitchen held every knickknack you could imagine.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs.
I just about laughed when I spotted the fridge right next to the door. With three mighty heaves, I shoved the ancient thing in front of it. Not long after, the burly Frigidaire shook.
Instead of waiting around to see the carnage of spilled food, I hauled my butt into the living room to find my grandmother waiting for me.
“We’re leaving,” I told her. “Right now.”
First things first. I tried to find my purse. A few quick calls should get family and friends over here. I searched around the coffee table for my purse or Aggie’s but couldn’t find them.
When I saw the barren coffee table, the sight hit me like a punch in the gut. Not only had they disabled the phone, but they’d also taken the shotgun. I glanced from Aggie to Aunt Olga and wondered how the hell I could get them both out of here. Maybe break a window, toss them outside?
While millions of scenarios danced inside my head, Grandma wrapped a handkerchief around her head. Then she wrapped a blanket around Aunt Olga. The constant slams against the door jolted my senses. No time. I had no time to fall apart.
I picked Aunt Olga up and threw her over my shoulder. The sharp bones of her hips jabbed into me. I hurried outside and pushed intruding thoughts away: the way her slack body flopped, the rain soaking into my pressed clothes, and the aches and pains from my deep wounds.
Once I reached the car, I used a backup key I’d stowed away in a crevasse under the car. I rarely forgot my key, but keeping a backup handy ranked high on an anal retentive–preparedness scale.
I hoisted my aunt into the backseat and then ran back inside.
A loud clatter as more of the fridge’s contents fell to the floor. Hold door, hold. I stepped around shattered glass. Tomato juice gushed from a bottle like blood from a wounded victim. I checked the door. The fridge tilted forward, and the doorframe appeared cracked. Between curses and growls, a set of clawed hands sl
ipped through the seam and tried to push the door open.
One down, too many to go. I hoisted Aggie over my shoulder. She weighed a little less than Nick, but I’d been stronger the day I carried him. My body protested with each step.
“Grandma,” I hissed. “Let’s go!”
She poked her head out of the room where Alex and Pete lay.
Okay, Thorn you can show up and be the hero any time now.
But only the rain greeted me as I ran outside. More cold rain that plastered my hair to my scalp.
I added Aggie to the backseat. “Get in the car, Grandma.” I shifted to look out the window and squint through the murky downpour. No Grandma.
From my line of sight, the light of the door beamed like a beacon. But nothing inside would offer a safe haven.
I ran through the rain, expecting to enter a house in turmoil. Instead, the silence in the house raised the hair on the back of my neck. I crept through the living room and searched the kitchen. The fridge lay on the floor. Crushed food littered the place, revealing where the intruders had stepped. It was clear that several people had passed through.
Lightning flashed outside the windows. A few seconds later the dull crash of thunder filled the house.
The urge to call out for my grandmother tickled the back of my throat. Did they have her? Had she managed to find a hiding place? My steps quickened. If they touched her …
From the kitchen, I headed to Alex’s room. I wasn’t as stealthy as my father could be, but the carpeted floor muffled my approach. And I didn’t detect any foreign scents in the hallway connecting the bedrooms. Only a trace that my grandmother had been here. When I opened the cracked door, I expected to find what I’d seen before, both Alex and Pete asleep. Anything but the sight before me.
A man crouched on the side of the bed, hovering over my brother. The man had a narrow back with damp black hair streaked with green. His dirty leather jacket shook as he bent forward.
When I saw what he was doing, I was so shocked it felt a like a sledgehammer slamming into my kneecaps.
He was holding a pillow over my brother’s face.
My hand twitched first. Then my entire body erupted into a black rage. All-consuming. Boiling until my anger spilled over and I roared. I unleashed myself on my brother’s attacker, grabbing the back of his neck. Again and again, I slammed my fist into the side of his face until he fell backward on the floor. I sprang on him, not caring where I scratched, where I bit.
“Crazy bitch!” the werewolf spat. He angled his elbow under my neck to keep me from clamping my mouth down on him again.
Pete and his discarded food tumbled around us, filling the room with a haze of sweat, blood, and take-out Chinese.
We wrestled for control, but I managed to grasp a handful of the intruder’s hair. I yanked his head up, then slammed it back down on the carpet. Bits of noodle and vegetables clung to the side of his face.
Harder and harder, I knocked his head against the floor until I couldn’t see his face anymore, only his hands on Alex’s pillow. The attacker was lucky I didn’t carry a gun.
“That’s enough!” The roar from the door entered the din of my haze. “Get off him!” the other man warned. “Now!”
I glanced up, my hands still clenching the man’s hair.
The other man had my grandmother. He filled the gap of the doorjamb with wide shoulders and menacing black eyes. He was overwhelmingly tall, too tall for the low ceilings in this house. Something about him pecked at my memories. I’d seen his face before. At a gathering of packs for the state of New Jersey. From which one I didn’t know.
“Stand up slowly before I do something to Granny here.” My grandmother winced as Tall Man roughly shook her shoulder.
The wolf inside me wanted to tear him apart. To initiate the change and rip his limbs off. If I had my way, he’d never leave this house. Somehow my grandmother remained silent and stoic.
The man beneath me groaned as I backed away from him.
“You okay, Burt?” Tall Man asked his cohort.
“I’ll be fine,” Burt gurgled. “Got a bunch of stars in my eyes.” His thick Jersey accent slurred the words.
I continued to sit on the floor staring Tall Man down. My hands quaked, itching to attack.
Tall Man laughed. “You’re more of a firecracker than I’d expected.” His eyes formed slits. “Quiet field mice shouldn’t bite cats on the prowl.”
I wanted to tell him I had rabies and planned to share with him, but I kept my mouth shut.
Burt managed to stand not far from me. “Wish we could take out the trash instead of adding to our ranks.” He pounced on me, grabbing a handful of my hair. With a vicious yank, he forced my back into a painful arch.
He continued to twist my hair around his fist, trying to pay me back for what I’d done to him. For good measure, he kicked me forward, placed his boot on my back, and pressed down.
A grimace stretched across my face. The pain across my torso amplified, with electric shocks running down my legs.
“Not so tough now, are you, bitch?”
I wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t mind an introduction of my foot to his ass, but I was too busy straining to look at Tall Man.
“We got three of them. I see no reason I can’t stay and play with this one before I put her to sleep along with the injured one.” Burt continued to leer in my direction, perhaps thinking he could promise me as much fun as Clive had.
Tall Man sneered. “Derek said the Long Island pack wants her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be taught a lesson or two. I don’t have time for old women, so I’ll take care of this one in the living room.” He turned away and said over his shoulder, “Do what you want with her.”
The time between when Burt grabbed me by the throat with his other hand and when Tall Man prepared to drag my grandmother out of the room flashed by in seconds.
Burt’s grip on my throat tightened. The air in the room shifted. The scent of ozone filled my nostrils. Nothing smelled the same—as if my perception had been twisted within the space of this room.
Tall Man glanced down at my grandmother. He murmured, “No fuckin’ way.”
First, her lips moved as if she was whispering to herself. Then her body rapidly expanded like lava rushing out of a tunnel, surging and ready to explode. Nothing like the bone-cracking and form-shifting of a young pup. This metamorphosis bordered on beautiful—and then horrific when her body grew. Far larger than any werewolf I’d ever seen. Enormous. A thing of nightmares, with a massive snout bulging with teeth. Bristly gray hair extended from her back and spread to become black hair down her muscular legs.
The creature, which stood on its hind legs where my grandmother had been, seized the wide-eyed Tall Man between its large-clawed hands. With her body concealing the carnage, I could only hear Tall Man gurgling while she tore at him. Thunder muffled the loudest of his screams.
The man who held me mewled like a frightened child. He released me and stumbled to the corner. The foul stench of his released bowels hit my nose.
When Grandma Lasovskaya turned around, the creature that peered at us oozed hunger. A hunger to savage anything in its path. Yellow eyes stared at Burt and me. Waiting for one of us to move.
Fear pulsed through my skull and locked my lungs. Even if I’d wanted to move, my body prevented any action. Survival mode kicked in.
Her height prevented her from completely standing, so she crouched with the remains of Tall Man in her hands. She took a step toward us. Then another.
I closed my eyes and remembered all the times my grandmother had held me, soothed me. The scent of her skin. The warmth of her touch. How she’d do anything to protect me. This monster wasn’t the beautiful wolf I remembered from when the pack ran during those long-ago summers. Was the creature before me really my grandmother?
My lungs burned for air, but my body refused to move.
Burt broke the standoff. He bolted from the corner like a frightened rabbit and scurried
toward the window near the foot of the bed. His arms flailed, grasping at anything so he could hurl himself through the window.
She snatched him before he reached the windowsill.
When my vision dimmed, I managed to suck in a mouthful of air. Panic built in my belly first. The surge was overwhelming. I didn’t need to run. I didn’t need to escape. I didn’t need to look. My body rocked while I tugged at the worn carpet. I was unable to swim out of the death spiral toward the depths of the abyss.
I opened my eyes after an unknown expanse of time. Had my panic attack lasted a few minutes? Longer?
Blood and the remains of two bodies littered the floor. No sign of my grandmother. Poor Pete would awaken in this mess.
Somehow, I managed to creep to the bed and check on my brother. I watched the rise and fall of his chest with relief. Burt hadn’t killed him; Alex would survive to become a father.
I dreaded the trip back to the living room. Would I find my grandmother, waiting there to end me? A beast that would then escape the house to wreak havoc on a neighborhood full of unsuspecting humans? The overturned lamps in the corners remained lit, casting light on the floor—and revealing a single form, lying curled on its side.
Even over the sound of the rain, I could detect my grandmother’s shallow breaths, and could see the slight movement of her chest. I wanted to cry from relief as I rushed to her side.
I touched her face. Her skin was cold and dry. “Babushka, are you all right?”
But when I shook her, she didn’t awaken.
Chapter 18
After Thorn and my family arrived, I spent the rest of the day at my parents’ house. I wanted to remain by my grandmother’s side, but my mother forced me sit in the living room.
So I sat there and watched. I watched my uncles carry Aggie and Aunt Olga into a bedroom. And then I watched my father carry my grandmother inside. Aunt Vera hovered over them, wiping away tears as she followed. When my mother finally sat down, I asked her in a hoarse voice, “Mom, what’s wrong with Grandma?” I didn’t want to think of the worst, but I had to ask. “Is she dying?”
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