Dirty Blood

by Heather Hildenbrand

  When the worst was over, and I could actually see well enough to drive, I left. I wasn’t sure where to go, but I knew if I stayed here, someone would find me. If not George, then Sam or Angela—and I didn’t want to face any of them. I’d texted my mother earlier that I’d decided to go to the dance after all and she’d told me to have fun and she’d see me at home. She was probably there now, which meant Wes was gone—finally. But I didn’t want my mom to see me like this, either.

  I weaved through some back roads for a while, still unable to decide on a destination. I came to the intersection that would either lead me home or back through my maze of turns. At the stop sign, I swiped my hand across my cheek and sniffled, trying to pick a direction.

  The sound of a racing engine reached my ears, and I glanced up to my rearview. A car came speeding up behind me and screeched to a halt, inches from my bumper. I watched as the driver’s side door opened, and a figure stepped out. I couldn’t see him until he stepped into the glare of the car’s headlights, but I already knew.

  Wes strode up to my window and beat on it with the side of his fist, his eyes wild, his expression fierce. I hesitated, wondering how far I’d make it if I tried punching the gas. Not far, I was sure. I sighed and unlocked the door. Before I could even reach the handle, Wes had wrenched my door open and pulled me to my feet.

  “What the hell were you thinking? Where have you been?” he demanded, his hands squeezing my shoulders. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was? Anything could’ve happened to you. What if I hadn’t found you first?”

  His questions were rhetorical, I think, but I attempted an answer, anyway. “I went to the dance,” I said, trying to sound angry and sure of myself. “I told you, I’m done.”

  “Well, I don’t care if you’re done or over it or whatever. I have a job to do, and you’re making it impossible!”

  “Well, how about I make it easy for you? You’re fired. Job over. Leave. Me. Alone.” My voice broke a little at the end but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were still wild and a little unfocused and even though he stood only inches from me, I don’t think he really saw me. My words only seemed to make him angrier.

  “Stop saying that.” His fingers increased their pressure on my shoulders, and I winced. It probably wouldn’t have hurt if my muscles weren’t still sore from training, but just that small amount of pressure was enough to cause a shot of pain.

  My reaction seemed to finally get through to him because he instantly released my arms and stepped back. He blinked a few times and seemed to really be noticing me for the first time.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled, swiping at my cheeks again and trying to figure out a way to just end the conversation so I could get out of here.

  He must have finally noticed how shaken I looked because he stepped closer again, this time with concern. “Something happened. What is it?”

  “I’d like to go home now,” I said, keeping my eyes down.

  His entire body sagged and the energy seemed to seep out of him all at once, like a deflated balloon. “Fair enough, but we need to talk.”

  I glanced up at him, warily. “About what?”

  “Everything you said earlier. And other things.”

  “What things?”

  “I’d rather talk about it at home.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t. I—” I halted, midsentence, suddenly overwhelmed by the tingling shiver that ran up my spine and spilled over into my arms and legs. “Werewolf,” I whispered, but Wes was already scanning the darkness for movement.

  “Get in the car, Tara,” said Wes. He stepped in front of me, blocking me from the coming danger. He continued to stare into the darkness of the trees that lined the road.

  “No, I’m going to stay out here and help you,” I argued.

  “We’re not staying. Now get in the car.”

  I started to move toward my car.

  “No. My car,” he said.

  “I can’t just leave it here.”

  “Yes, you can. We’ll get it later.”

  A rustle of leaves sounded from somewhere in the forest, growing steadily louder.

  “Dammit,” Wes muttered. “You’re driving.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Stop asking questions and just go. I’ll be right behind you.”

  I didn’t have time to question him further because in the next second, a dark gray wolf leapt through the trees, aiming straight for me. Wes jumped forward to meet it, changing to wolf form in midair.

  Scraps of fabric rained down, but I barely noticed. I stared at the wolf that was Wes as he tackled the other one, watching them tumble, a tangle of teeth and fur. Wes was easily twice the size of the other Were, and his reddish-brown fur glinted in the moonlight. He came out easily on top and pinned the attacking Were with his paws. Then he looked over at me, and his eyes flashed.

  “Go!” he said. “The keys are in the ignition. Don’t go home. Follow the GPS.”

  I nodded mechanically and ran to his car. It was still running and the GPS system glowed on the dashboard, telling me to turn left. Through the windshield I could see Wes’s sharp teeth as he snapped at the other wolf’s throat. It managed to twist away and get free and it took off, racing for the car. Wes was on him in half a second and drove him back, out of my way. Snarling and grunting came in through the open car window, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. Every part of me itched to get into the fight.

  I threw the car into reverse and backed up enough to maneuver the Aston Martin between my own car and the two wolves fighting it out on the other side of the road. I hesitated for only a second, hating the thought of leaving Wes there, but then I punched the gas. As I passed, the attacking wolf twisted his head around and looked at me.

  “Dirty Bloods,” he spat. Then Wes’s teeth made contact with his throat, and I looked away as I sped off.

  I had no idea where the GPS was leading me but I followed, knowing its destination was the only place Wes would be able to find me. And no matter how angry I might be, I had to know he was okay. The directions it gave led me to a residential area not far from my house, behind a shopping center, mostly townhouses and small apartment buildings. The computerized voice sent me to a small apartment on a side road that dead-ended at the parking lot. I could hear the buzz of the highway on the other side of a treed border. I wasn’t sure whether to go inside or who else might be there, so I parked the car and locked the doors, slouching in my seat to wait it out.