Wolf Hunt (Book 2) (23 page)

George hit him with the bat.

Then again.

And again.

More of the jewelry flew off the bat, but at least a couple of the rings did their job, because there was some definite sizzling going on.

Somewhere around the tenth or eleventh hit, George realized that he was crying. Oh well. The only witness would be dead soon.

Crabs had stopped trying to defend himself.

And then, one hit with the baseball bat got him in the center of the forehead. The silver coffin necklace cracked the front of his skull.

Crabs didn't make a sound. He just pitched forward, dead.

"Yeah, that's right," said George. "Stay down."

George frowned. He really should have said something better after sort-of partially avenging Lou's death. If he'd believed that Lou was watching him from the afterlife, Lou would be shaking his head right now. "
Yeah, that's right, stay down?
"
Seriously? Screw you, George.

He returned to the car, turned on the headlights, then looked around the battle zone for the silver rings that had fallen off. He only found one before giving it up as a lost cause.

He didn't feel particularly vindicated, but then again, there were still two werewolves left to kill.

CHAPTER THIRTY

A Bad Time To Be George

Being a werewolf was fantastic in every possible way except for the destruction of clothing. And because of that, you couldn't really carry a cell phone in your pocket, because the pockets might rip and you'd lose your phone. Therefore, Shane and Robyn couldn't text Crabs like civilized people, and instead had agreed to drive by the park if he hadn't returned with news in a reasonable amount of time.

They had not specifically defined "reasonable amount of time." It had only been half an hour, and Shane didn't want George to see them driving past the park.

"He probably fell asleep," said Robyn.

"I don't think Crabs sleeps."

"It's been too long. George isn't worth this."

"I disagree."

"You know that Crabs isn't going to report back, right? If he sees George, he'll kill him."

"Crabs wouldn't do that."

"Really?"

Shane shifted in his seat. "No, not really. You're right. Let's check on him."

* * *

Tom and Betsy's car was at the park. That emaciated lab rat had lied to them. He'd die for that, although he was in far too bad of shape already to be any fun to kill. How could they torture him
more
?

So Crabs hadn't bothered to report back. Robyn glanced back at Shane. If she said a word about this, a single word, Shane might not be able to stop himself from going psycho on her.

But she didn't. She simply asked, "What's next?"

"I'm going to find out what's going on. If Ally tries to escape, take her down."

"You mean kill her?"

"No. But don't spare her legs." He looked his daughter in the eye. "You got that?"

Ally looked defiant, but nodded.

Shane hoped that Robyn knew that he didn't
really
want her to rip up Ally's legs. She probably did. He got out of the car.

He wished werewolves could see in the dark. He had to walk all the way over to the slide before he saw that it had blood on it.

A lot of blood.

And there was a path in the snow that led to the woods behind the park. Like a body had been dragged.

Lots of blood on the path, too.

Whose blood was it?

Shane changed, bent down, and sniffed the ground. Was it both Crabs' and George's blood? He couldn't tell.

If he went back to talk to Robyn, she'd tell him not to go into the woods after them, so he didn't go back to talk to her. He walked along the bloody path, watching closely and listening carefully, until he walked into the woods.

* * *

You killed my mother.

You killed my mother.

You killed my mother.

How did you get mad on purpose?

Oh, Ally was mad. She hated Robyn. Despised her. Would love to see her dead and dance on her grave.

But
trying
to be mad, madder than she was scared, simply wasn't working. She couldn't control her emotions like that. She wanted to become a white-hot ball of fury but couldn't do it.

With practice she could do it, but unlike the violin, she needed to be good at this
now
.

What if she just opened the door and ran? Would Robyn really hurt her?

Ally scooted an inch to the left.

"If you move at all toward that door, you're going back in the trunk," Robyn informed her. "Behave."

You killed my mother.

You killed my mother.

You killed my mother.

* * *

Crabs lay dead on the ground.

Shane couldn't believe it. Crabs was dead. George had murdered him.

How could Crabs be so weak? How could he let himself be killed by a human? Had he been careless? Had he fallen asleep and let George sneak up on him?

Shane had treasured their friendship, but if Crabs had been killed by an injured human, then he deserved to die.

The car was there, so George and the freak were still around. They wouldn't have just left their car and fled through the woods, so they had to be hiding.

Somewhere close.

Shane looked up in the trees.

There was George, right above him.

Getting closer.

Very quickly.

George didn't land on Shane, but the aluminum bat he was holding did. It got Shane right on the shoulder, which hurt like crazy. He cursed loudly, though it came out as a growl.

The thug was no Jackie Chan. He'd landed on his feet, but then crumpled. Snatching the bat out of his hands was easy enough. Shane tossed it to his other hand, so that he was holding it by the handle, then got ready to split George's skull open with it.

Oh, hey, look at that. He'd attached silver jewelry to it. How adorable. Shane pointed to the bat and gave George a thumbs-up.

"I figured it'll do the trick when I shove it up your ass," said George.

Shane jabbed the bat at him, getting George right in the gut. The oh-so-mighty werewolf hunter doubled over and vomited.

Poor guy. He was having such a bad day.

George's head was in the perfect bashing position. If Shane brought the bat down like a strength-testing hammer at a carnival, he figured he could split George's head all the way down to his chin. That should be the game. If he could splatter George's brain matter more than twenty feet away, he'd win a stuffed giraffe.

Shane felt kind of guilty. They'd both lost a dear friend, but at least Shane had gotten laid today.

He should turn Robyn loose on him. Give him one last ride before he died. She'd
shred
him, but what a way to go.

She'd never go for that. What a show it would be.

George groaned in pain and started to lift his head. Shane wasn't quite ready to pulp his cranium yet, so he swung the bat into George's leg, knocking him over. Home run.

He wasn't sure why it felt wrong to finish him off. Not that Shane was having any kind of second thoughts about this, but for some reason he felt as if there was some unfinished business. George was already starting to get up, so Shane bashed him in the other leg. It was nice that George had gone with a metal bat instead of a wooden one, otherwise this thing would have shattered.

If he'd known where the freak was, Shane would have changed back to human, because he desperately wanted to have one last conversation with George. Mock him. Laugh at him. Make him feel truly pathetic before he died. But even though George was no threat right now, and the freak was almost certainly no threat, either, Shane had to remain cautious until he at least knew where the freak was hiding.

So, no mockery. Life was full of sacrifice.

Then he figured out why he didn't want to kill George. He shouldn't be the one to do it. Ally had to make her first kill sometime, and what better first victim than the sleaze bucket who'd kidnapped her? If it wasn't for George and Lou, she'd still have her old life. Sure, Shane knew that the thugs had actually made things better for her in the long run, but she didn't know that yet.

Anyway, he liked the idea of George being killed by a fourteen-year-old girl. Even if she was a werewolf, it was still a pretty big blotch on his legacy.

Shane flung the bat like a baton. It was a good enough weapon to take out Crabs, so he probably shouldn't have it available to George once the real pain started.

Then he grabbed one of George's feet and dragged him out of the woods.

* * *

Eugene wished he had a good pair of snow pants.

Or any pants.

Or at least boxer shorts that were in better shape.

At least he was warm from the waist up. And, except for his feet, he'd been warm while he'd sat huddled on the ground, because he could tuck his knees underneath the coat and be reasonably toasty.

Then he'd decided that he needed to help.

Yeah, he was a mess, but he had to be able to contribute in a bigger way than just directing the werewolves to the park. It was three against one. If Eugene went over to help, he could make it three against two, or at least three against one-and-a-half.

If Ally got free, why, they'd practically be evenly matched. A totally fair fight all the way. Vegas odds makers wouldn't know what to do.

Eugene had started by walking off the road entirely, but trudging through the snow was too slow and too miserable, so he just walked on the edge of the road, figuring that if somebody drove by he'd see their headlights in plenty of time to hide.

George had saved him.

He had to help.

And the fact that he didn't entirely care whether he lived or died might make him a good ally.

* * *

Shane dragged George into the center of the park. Then he crouched down beside him, jabbed a talon into George's upper thigh, and sliced all the way down his leg, not stopping until he reached the ankle. George was admirably brave about it. Shane did the same thing to George's other leg, this time starting from the bottom and working his way up. He wasn't slicing
too
deep; not severing tendons or anything, just cutting deep enough to make sure that George wouldn't get up and run away.

Shane walked back to the borrowed car, changed to human, and opened the back door.

"Come on," he said to Ally. "I'm about to give you the best present of your life."

Ally shook her head.

"That piece of human garbage that kidnapped you is right over there," said Shane, pointing to where George still lay. "You want to learn to use your powers? This will be a great opportunity. If you can't get mad at George, who
can
you get mad at, right?"

"Just leave him alone," said Ally.

"That would be ridiculous. When somebody does wrong by you, you no longer have to sit back and take it."

"You and Robyn did wrong by me."

Shane grinned. "And you know what? Maybe you'll make things right. But you can't do shi—" He caught himself in time. "—anything to Robyn until you've learned to harness your true nature, so why not take advantage of this lesson?"

"Let's just go," said Ally.

"She's right," said Robyn.

"No, she's wrong. George needs to die. I'd love to do it myself, but I think it'll be more valuable if Ally does it. If they've blocked off all of roads out of town, we may end up having to run off as wolves, so she needs to figure this stuff out."

"I'm not going to kill anyone," said Ally.

Shane changed his arm, grabbed Ally by the wrist, and pulled her out of the car. "Scream and I'll break your arm," he warned her.

She screamed. Shane twisted her arm until she stopped.

"That was stupid," he said. "You want to attract attention? Like it or not, you're a werewolf, and if they catch you, you'll end up like that freak. Is that what you want? You want to walk around school with 'WOLF' tattooed on your forehead and a useless paw sewn to your wrist?" He twisted her arm a bit more. "Is it?"

"No!"

"If I twist any more, a bone is gonna snap. You want that?"

"No, please."

"Then cut the crap, stop being such a spoiled brat, and walk with me. It's not that difficult, for Christ's sake. Your foot is barely even bleeding anymore."

She followed without further protest, though with a pronounced limp, as he led her over to where George lay. Now
his
legs were bleeding pretty bad. Throw this guy in the ocean and he'd draw every shark in a fifty-mile radius.

"Look at him," said Shane. "What do you see?"

"I see George."

"And what did George do to you today?"

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me 'nothing.' Don't lie to me. What did George do to you today? He put you in a cage, right?"

"No."

"No? I said, don't lie to me, Ally. I mean it. I saw the cage."

"The cage was after he saved me. After Lou saved me. After we saved each other."

"Nobody saved anybody. They kidnapped you." Shane pointed down at George. "He's your enemy."

"I think your daughter likes me better," said George. He didn't sound like he was dying yet, though he certainly wasn't bothering to sit up. "That's gotta piss you off."

"You know what pisses me off?" Shane asked. "That you and your dead partner started a chain of events that led to the death of Ally's mom. Maybe you didn't kill her, but if you'd stayed in your cave or wherever the hell you've been cowering all this time, she'd still be alive."