by Reed, Zoe
“They won’t be home for a few hours.” He was trying to be patient, but the way his eyes scanned the room it was clear he was in a hurry. “This guy’s body count is already at six, Cami. I got to go now.”
Michael turned and walked out of the kitchen. He would go by himself if he had to, but it was Pack standard that he didn’t work alone, and I wasn’t about to put him in more danger than he needed to be. With a sigh I pushed my chair back and followed him out of the kitchen. Instead of following him outside I turned up the stairs to my bedroom, and after dumping my textbooks out of my backpack I threw a change of clothes in it. When I reached Michael’s blue truck he was already in it, engine started and waiting for me.
The second I hopped in and threw my backpack to the floor at my feet he sped out of the driveway, sending gravel flying behind him. It wasn’t that he was in a hurry so much as that was how he normally drove. There was evidence of it in the form of skid marks all over the dirt.
“Thanks for coming.” He lifted the side of his mouth in a grateful smile as he habitually turned his hat around so the bill was facing forward.
I shrugged. “Yeah well, you’ve always been a little clumsy. Someone’s got to keep this guy from getting the drop on you.”
“Clumsy huh?” Michael asked, laughing as he reached his arm over and wrapped it around my neck. “You want to stick with that statement?” he challenged, and began shaking me back and forth playfully.
He wrestled with me for a minute until I slipped out of his lock and pushed his arm away. As I fixed my hair with my fingers I glanced at the GPS that hung in the windshield, noticing the time of arrival was around seven hours away. “Where are we going anyway?”
In the light the GPS gave off I could see Michael’s eyes glance at it before he answered. “Vegas.”
“Las Vegas?” I asked in shock, to which he nodded.
I hadn’t even thought we’d be going very far in the first place, let alone out of state. I should have guessed it though when he told me to pack a bag. At least I wouldn’t be sitting in film studies tomorrow wishing Kyla were there. I sighed at the thought of Kyla. Aside from earlier today I had visited her a couple times over the weekend, but the girl was always tired and queasy, so I had never stayed long. I was starting to really miss the adorable brunette.
In the silence that filled the car, I had forgotten about Michael until he unconsciously sniffed. Remembering him sitting there and thinking about Kyla got me wondering why none of my older siblings were in relationships. “Mike, how come none of you guys are married?”
He chuckled to himself at the randomness of the question. “Why get married when there’s so many beautiful fish in the sea?”
Smartass, I thought to myself. “But what about mating for life?” Even though my kind had amplified sex drives, we still had the wolf instinct to have one partner for life.
“I’m sure when I find a werewolf that I really like I’ll want to keep her forever.” Michael shrugged, and then a sly smirk turned up the corner of his mouth. “But until then, I have needs. I’m sure it’s the same for Sky and Carter.”
“Ew,” was all I could say at the thought of my brother’s ‘needs’, and he laughed at my disgust.
“Don’t be grossed out, Cami. The birds and the bees are all a part of life,” he grinned as he teasingly continued, “I’m sure Mom and Dad will have the talk with you some day.”
I shoved his shoulder and then put my hands over my ears. “Oh my god, stop talking. I don’t care what you do in your free time, but I don’t want to hear about it.”
Not wanting to hear any more details than I had to I stared out the window to ignore him, thinking to myself as Michael turned the truck onto the freeway. I’d come with him because even though he probably could have handled it, it wasn’t safe for him to go on his own. That didn’t mean I had to like going.
Part of our schooling growing up was combative training, which meant I knew how to fight. As the most protective of my siblings, if I had to I could protect whoever needed it, and I’d do whatever I needed to make sure they were safe. That didn’t mean I enjoyed the violence. More than any of my siblings, or any other werewolf for that matter, I hated it. Especially in a circumstance such as this where we were the ones going to the fight, not the fight going to us. Unfortunately for me though, violence was an inescapable part of life for us.
Feeling my eyes grow heavy I leaned my head back against the seat to take a nap. Every once in a while we’d go over a deep pothole that would jostle me slightly from sleep, or Michael would turn too sharply and shift my head out of place. Other than that I stayed asleep until we stopped for gas a few hours later.
When Michael got out of the truck to go to the pump I checked the clock. It was past eleven, and I wondered if we were still in California or not. Pushing the door open I felt a gust of wind get under my shirt, chilling my sleep-warmed body. I shoved the door closed and folded my arms across my chest, waiting for my body to wake up so my temperature would rise.
Looking around I spotted a sandwich shop called Barstow Subs, and if I could remember correctly Barstow was still in California. California or not, we were definitely in the desert. Now adjusted to what I realized was actually a warm wind, I inhaled. It carried the dry, vacant smell of a barren land, a scent that would succeed in making me feel lost in the darkness that I could see just beyond the lights of the gas station. It was a wandering wind, always on the move and carrying only those scents immediately available.
I shuffled to the bed of the truck and threw my arms over it, resting my chin on the edge. The gallon meter on the pump was only up to eight, so there were still a few minutes before we’d be on our way again.
“Hey, I’m going to get something to eat. Want anything?” I asked Michael, throwing a thumb behind me toward the twenty-four hour mart.
“Yeah, just get me a coffee.” He smiled his thanks and pushed his back off the pump, heading for the window squeegee to wash the windshield.
Before heading off toward the mart I shoved a hand in my pocket to make sure I really had the cash I thought I did. Cash confirmed, I picked up my speed, having to pry the door open from the wind trying to keep it closed. It took a second as I stood near the door before I spotted the snack aisle, but having found it I made my way over and stood in front of the shelves. Chips filled one side of the aisle and chocolate bars and candy filled the other, but on the very end of the chips was beef jerky, so I picked up a bag and headed for the coffee. Grabbing the first cup my hand touched, which happened to be a medium sized one, I filled it with the bitter fluid. Black, just the way Michael liked it. I took a curious sip and then smacked my lips with distaste. It just wasn’t the same without cream and sugar.
Surprisingly, the store was busy, and there were five people standing in line by the time I got there. As I waited, I glanced out the window and noticed that Michael had pulled the truck up to a parking spot in front of the store, and sat in it waiting for me.
“Hi.” An older man standing behind me tapped me on the shoulder. He had to be in his late thirties, but neglect and the hot desert sun had aged his skin years beyond that. In his hand he held an unopened forty-ounce can of beer, but his breath already stank of alcohol and cigarettes. By his dirtied clothes and obviously less than standard personal hygiene this guy had to be one of those locals that hung around town drinking all day because he had nothing better to do. We had guys like this in Tranquility too. Most of them were harmless. “You from out of town?”
I took a step forward, grateful that I was almost at the front of the line, and nodded. The middle-aged woman in front of me turned her head and looked back at the man, and when she realized he wasn’t talking to her, she turned back around.
“Have you tried that sandwich shop across the street? Best subs in all of Barstow,” he asked me, and by the way he smiled his intentions were clear. I shook my head, hoping the woman in front of me would be done as soon as possible so I could get away from this
guy. “I could take you there if you want.”
Thank God. I thought to myself as the woman in front of me left and I stepped up to the counter, handing the cashier the ten-dollar bill from my pocket. While he rang me up I turned back to the man behind me. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry, thanks anyway.”
When I turned back to the cashier he was handing me the change and receipt, and I quickly took my items and hurried away. Getting hit on was nothing new to me. It actually happened on a regular basis, but I hated it each and every time. Something about having that kind of attention made me uncomfortable, and in my experience some guys could be a little too pushy. It wasn’t that I couldn’t defend myself, but in most occasions in a public setting, it wasn’t entirely appropriate to knock a guy on his ass.
Reaching the truck I jumped into the passenger seat and handed Michael his coffee. “Thank you,” he grinned happily and took it from me, and then chuckling asked, “Did you just get hit on again?”
“It’s not funny,” I said in exaggerated annoyance and pushed his shoulder as he took a sip of the hot coffee. “It’s so awkward.”
He jerked the coffee from his lips before it could spill down his chin, and set it in the cup holder. “Oh come on, I thought he was kind of cute.”
“Uh huh.” I chuckled and nodded my head toward a woman standing outside the shop smoking a cigarette, watching us in the truck and eyes particularly focused on Michael. “Momma bear over there is kind of cute too.”
Michael snorted with laughter and threw the car into reverse. “Alright, let’s get the hell out of here.”
After my laughter had subsided I ripped open the bag of beef jerky, taking some out and then offering some to my brother. He took a piece from the bag, popped it into his mouth and then reached behind his seat, fishing around for a moment before bringing forward a red folder and placing it in my lap.
“This is the assignment,” he told me, flipping open the cover. “You should know who we’re looking for.”
I nodded and flicked on the light above my head so I could read. I’d never done anything like this before, never had the desire to, but Michael was right. I needed to know what we were up against. A few times I’d heard him and Sky talking about an assignment they’d been on or a werewolf they’d taken out. Once before I had even seen a folder like this on the kitchen table and curiously flipped through it. It had similar information as the one in my lap. The first page was usually a picture and a description. In this case, it was a mug shot.
The werewolf in the picture was a young white guy, clean cut from his short black hair to his black collared shirt, all except for a colorful tattoo that could be seen stemming down the right side of his neck. The straight set of his mouth and his brown eyes showed no remorse for whatever he had done. Instead he looked apathetic and bored. The black sign he was holding up for the camera read ‘Bohls, Stephen’, and under his name it listed his height of six foot and his weight at one hundred and sixty pounds. The following page was a complete list of his arrests. There looked to be about seven: an armed robbery, a couple DUIs, a few drug possessions, and one a murder charge that he’d been acquitted of.
The next few pages were of credit card charges and full page receipts in order to locate him. “How does Eli get all this stuff?” I asked in shock as I flipped to the last page.
“The Pack’s got connections,” Michael told me with a shrug.
The last page gave me the information I’d been looking for, our destination. A hotel in North Las Vegas called American Casino Inn. According to the credit receipt, Stephen had been there for two nights. Looking back at his previous charges for up to four nights at other hotels in the area, it was likely he wasn’t planning on staying at this place for much longer.
“Are we going straight there?” I asked, holding up the hotel receipt so Michael would know exactly what I was talking about.
He nodded and took a sip of his coffee before answering. “Yeah, so if you’re going to need sleep, get it now.”
I could sleep some more, but wanting to make sure Michael would be rested asked, “Do you want me to take over for a bit?”
“No, go ahead. I’m fine. You have a couple hours,” he told me with a smile and turned his eyes back to the road as I settled comfortably into my seat.
Knowing this was probably all the rest I was going to get tonight, I fell asleep with ease. By the time I woke about two hours later we were entering the city through the south side of Las Vegas. Even for nearly three o’clock in the morning the city was still sparkling with millions of colorful lights.
The freeway paralleled the Las Vegas strip and was pretty clear of cars, but when we exited at West Hacienda, I could tell we’d be in traffic for a few minutes. I sighed with relief when Michael made a U-turn and started to head the opposite direction of the brightest part of the city. Now that we were close, I was starting to get nervous, as I remembered that I didn’t like what we were here to do. I just hoped finishing the job would be as easy and as microscopically traumatizing as possible.
“This is it,” Michael told me, pointing to the hotel we were passing on our right. “I think we passed some warehouses, we might be able to park the car behind the buildings or something.”
No one else being on the road, Michael nonchalantly made another U-turn. He then made a left on the corner the hotel sat on, and seconds later pulled right into a parking lot that sat on the opposite side of the same street. The headlights didn’t reach far enough for me to see the end of the lot, which gave me the impression that it was pretty big. In the center of the parking lot were two long, narrow buildings. These must have been the warehouses Michael was talking about.
As we passed the first one, the back was dimly lit and I could see the whole rear of the building was lined with large square openings about five feet up, the height a semi truck would reach when being loaded with shipments. We passed the second shipping warehouse and reached the end of the parking lot, which to Michael’s satisfaction was almost completely dark with a single streetlamp at the far end.
The very back of the parking lot was the typical area for trash bins, construction materials, and broken down semi trucks, hardly the place where anyone would be outside of business hours. Finding an empty spot between two of these broken down semis, Michael backed the truck in. It was the perfect spot where the vehicle wouldn’t draw attention but would be easy to get in to if we needed to rush.
Securely pulled into the spot, Michael turned off the engine and turned to me while I took a deep, nervous breath. “You ready?” I nodded and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do. If this job is going to be easy, it’s because we’re going to find him in the hotel room and get it over with pronto. In case he’s not in the room, we don’t want him to smell us on his way back. So we need to circle wide around the hotel. It doesn’t look like anything is going on in the building behind us.”
He pointed out the rear window to an enormous building that looked like some sort of event center, “We’ll go that way and circle around to South Dean Martin where the hotel is located.” He paused and waited for me to nod in understanding. I understood perfectly, but instead of nodding I took another nervous breath. “Don’t worry Cami, you’re going to do fine. I’ll let you know what to do, just follow my lead.”
He opened the door, and following his lead I got out of the truck. Based on my experience in Barstow, I expected to be assaulted by another strong wind, but evidently not all deserts are the same. I followed my brother farther behind the warehouses at a quick pace, but not so quick as to look suspicious. I thought about making conversation, but with each step my nerves grew more and more noticeable. By the time we’d circled around and I could see the hotel on the corner, I could hear my heart pounding despite the loud music from the nightclub a little farther down. As we finally stood on the corner of the hotel property Michael stopped, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning against a street sign, looking successfully like a b
ored loiterer.
“The folder said his room number is one-sixteen.” He squinted through the dark in order to see the room numbers on the red, white, and blue doors of the hotel rooms. Like the warehouses, the hotel stretched out before us in two long, completely separate buildings. In front of and centered between the two was the main office. “That’s got to be on the other side of the hotel. Stay close, okay?”
I nodded and followed Michael back to the opposite side of the street so we could keep our scents off the hotel sidewalks. It wasn’t until we stood in line with the far side of the hotel that we crossed the street again, this time sticking as close as possible to the hotel walls until we reached Stephen’s room. Through the curtained window I could see the room behind the blue door was completely dark and quiet, but even from the outside it stank of werewolf. This was definitely the place.
Michael looked at me and gave a questioning nod toward the door, silently asking if I was ready. I nodded and watched his hand go tightly around the doorknob.
Again he nodded his head. Once. Twice. And on the third nod he gave the handle a twist with as much werewolf strength as he could muster. The insides of the lock could be heard breaking with a metallic wrench, and with the unlocking of the door he flung it open, moving swiftly and silently inside.
Within seconds he had made his way to the bed. I followed closely behind him, not sure what exactly I could do to help. I expected an alarmed Stephen to jump out of the bed, fists flying in every direction in a sleep-muddled attempt to ward off his attackers. But when Michael stood at the side of the bed, he stopped. There was no Stephen. He turned to me as I stood halfway between the bed and the entrance, and in the dark I could see him point upward and mouth the words ‘get the lights.’ As silently as possible I took slow steps back toward the door. Feeling it safer if the door was closed I shut it quietly, and then flicked on the lights.
