Darkest Powers Bonus Pack 2 (5 page)

Three

Simon grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked hard enough that I staggered. And hard enough that people looked over, which stopped me like a bucket of ice water. The cardinal rule of being on the run: don’t call attention to yourself.

Across the food court, the guy was still talking to Chloe. I could see now that Tori wasn’t there. Just Chloe. And a stranger.

“Chloe is not flirting with that guy,” Simon said.

“Course not.”

“I mean it. She’s—”

I glanced back at him. “I’m not blind. She’s only paying enough attention to him to be polite. He’s the one flirting, which is bugging her, and that’s why I’m pissed off. She’s trying to eat her fries and he’s interrupting.”

Simon chuckled. It did sound kind of stupid, as rationalizations went. I worry what will happen when we stop running. When we go back to school. When Chloe meets other guys. Guys who don’t argue and snap at her. Boys who don’t obsessively worry about her. Guys who could take her to a movie and stay right until the end, not have to leave halfway through because they start turning into wolves.

But even then she wouldn’t pick up some random guy in the mall.

So why was I overreacting? I don’t know. I saw the guy and a flash-fire ignited in my brain, burning away reason and common sense. If Simon hadn’t stopped me, I’d have made an idiot of myself and called attention to us. Worse, I’d have embarrassed Chloe. I was too protective as it was. Frothing at the mouth because a guy talked to her? Really not going help us get to that next anniversary.

“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Just keep it cool. And remember, in public, you’re not her boyfriend.”

I let out a noise that sounded a little too much like a growl.

“Yeah,” Simon said. “It’s a bitch. Especially at a time like this. But that’s the rule.”

It was a stupid rule. I’d been fighting it since we moved here. We were pretending to be a blended family—Lauren and my dad posing as a couple with their assorted kids. I’ve argued that it’s not a blood relationship, but apparently, dating my step-sister would be one of those “call attention to ourselves” things we need to avoid.

“So just . . . be cool,” Simon said. “Let me do the talking.”

When I was within about ten feet, Chloe turned, as if she’d sensed me there. She shot me a huge smile. Then she rolled her eyes toward the guy beside the table and mouthed to me, “Don’t ask.”

I rolled my eyes back, managing a slight smile that made her eyes fill with relief.

“Good,” Simon murmured beside me. “Very good.”

I glowered at him.

“What?” he said.

“You sound like you’re going to give me a dog biscuit.”

“If the shoe fits . . .”

I shook my head. As we walked over, a wave of scent hit me. A musky, chemical scent, like someone spilled cologne. I had to switch to breathing through my mouth.

Chloe motioned me to the seat beside her. When I sat, she laid her hand on my arm, “Finally. I thought you guys were never going to show. Tori took off a few minutes ago. Apparently, she didn’t have a belt to match her new shirts.” Another roll of her eyes. Then, with her fingers still lightly resting on my forearm, she turned to the guy. “Carter, this is Derek and Simon. Derek, Simon . . . Carter. He’s shopping with his grandfather.”

Simon smirked. I tried not to. There was nothing wrong with shopping with your grandfather. It just made flirting with girls in the food court seem a little pathetic.

And I now knew what smelled so bad. Carter seemed to have showered in aftershave. Which made “hitting on girls while shopping with Gramps” even more pathetic.

“I bet you’re starving,” Chloe said, jumping up, fingers brushing along my arm. “Let’s go grab you guys some food while Simon holds the table.” She turned to Carter and flashed a bright smile. “It was nice meeting you.”

I stood.

“Actually, I’d like to talk to you,” the guy—Carter—said.

My head whipped around a little faster than I intended. I thought he meant Chloe, but he was looking at me.

“You go to college here?” Carter asked.

“High school,” I grunted and took a step after Chloe, who was walking away, glancing back.

“Oh? I’d have guessed college. I hear they have a good football team. You must be planning to try out for it. I’m enrolling and I’d love any tips.”

“I don’t play—”

I stopped as I caught Simon giving me a look that said I was being rude. I wasn’t—I don’t go to college and I don’t know a damned thing about their football team—but I guess I sounded churlish. Which was fine by me. But Simon motioned that he’d go with Chloe instead, and when she didn’t argue, I was stuck.

I told the guy that I didn’t play football or know much about the college team, but I tried to be nice about it, saying I hadn’t been in town long and I was home-schooled. All that effort to be polite, and the guy seemed to tune me out after the first sentence, impatiently waiting for me to finish.

When I did, he said, “About Chloe. Has she got a boyfriend?”

I stiffened and managed to grunt, “Dunno.”

“She’s cute, huh?” He gazed after her with a look that made my gut twist. Not the normal look a guy gives a cute girl. A hungry one that had my hackles rising.

“She’s fifteen,” I said, my voice taking on a growl.

“So?”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” He grinned. It was an all-teeth grin that set off something in my brain and I fought the urge to curl my lip in a snarl.

“Girls her age like older guys,” Carter continued. “We know our way around, if you know what I mean.”

His grin grew, but his gaze was fixed on me now. His brown eyes glittered as I gripped the edge of the table, temper flaring.

Baiting me. He knew I was dating Chloe—or at least that I really liked her—and he was being a jerk about it.

I took a deep breath. No threat here. Chloe was safe. Chloe wasn’t interested. Chloe was with me.

“Don’t you have someplace to go?” I said. “Your grandpa’s probably looking for you.”

He didn’t rise to
my
bait, just kept smiling, his gaze swiveling back to Chloe. “I think I’ll wait and say goodbye. She’s really cute. I’d like to get to know her better.” That grin swung back to me. “I’d
really
like to get to know her better.”

I leapt to my feet.

“Whoa,” Carter said. “Something wrong, Derek?”

“Back off,” I growled.

His gaze hardened, but he kept smiling. “Is that a warning? It sounded like—”

“Carter!”

We both looked over to see a man standing by the McDonald’s counter. He didn’t look old enough to be Carter’s grandfather—maybe fifty. And he didn’t look like Carter, either. He was huge, at least my height, with broad shoulders, graying dark hair and a broad, bulldog face.

The man looked at me and I felt a jolt, like recognition. I didn’t know him, but he stared at me for at least five seconds before turning his gaze to Carter and waving for him.

“Better run along,” I murmured. “Gramps is calling.”

Carter scowled at me and hesitated, but his grandfather called again, his voice harsh enough to make people look. Carter muttered something and stalked off.

His grandfather stayed where he was, feet planted, fixing Carter with a glower as he walked over to join him. When Carter was close enough, the man grabbed his upper arm, leading him away like a five-year-old who’d run off.

“You eating my fries?” a voice asked behind me.

I turned to see Chloe approaching, tray in hand. She put it in front of me.

“Got your own,” she said. “Fries, burger, milkshake.” A blaze of a grin. “Good enough for an afternoon snack?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

As she sat down, she whispered. “Everything okay?”

I nodded and reached for her french fry container. She laughed and slapped my hand away, and I smiled and relaxed. When I looked over again, Carter and his grandfather were gone.

Four

We didn’t spend much time at the mall. Chloe seemed eager to get going and I wasn’t keen on staying. Chloe suggested we take the forest route back while Simon and Tori went by road. I sure as hell wasn’t arguing. Before we started dating, I’d gotten the impression—from movies and stuff—that the guy was usually the one suggesting things like a private walk in the woods, and the girl might want to sometimes, but not as often as the guy did. But half the time, Chloe was the one suggesting it, which was nice. Really nice.

When Chloe told them we’d take the forest route, Tori rolled her eyes. Simon grinned and shot me a thumbs up, which had Chloe rolling
her
eyes. In the beginning, she’d get embarrassed about stuff like that, and she’d change her mind, but I’d put a stop to that fast. We were going out; no one expected us to just walk around holding hands. No one other than her aunt, that is.

Once we got to the forest, we
did
hold hands, Chloe sliding hers into mine, twining our fingers, and if there was any knot still left in my gut, it slid away. When we’re alone like this, I know everything’s okay and I feel like a moron for worrying.

“Straight home then?” she asked as we walked along the path.

I snorted.

She looked over. “Ah, so you have other plans. I bet I know what they are, too.”

“I bet you do.”

“Yep. A long, peaceful walk in the forest. Fresh air. Exercise. What more could you ask for?”

“I can think of a few things.”

Her brows lifted. “Like what?”

“What you brought me into the forest for. This.”

I grabbed her by the waist and swung her around to face me. As I bent, I closed my eyes . . . and kissed air as she ducked out of my grasp. I opened my eyes to see her dancing backward along the path.

I made a noise in my throat.

“Don’t growl,” she said. “Aren’t you always complaining that you don’t get enough exercise?”

I lunged. She backed away.

I let out another growl and crossed my arms. “Better watch out. I might decide the prize isn’t worth the effort.”

She grinned, blue eyes sparkling. “Oh, you know it is. And you know it’s never as sweet as when you have to work for it.”

She wheeled and ran. As I went after her, adrenaline pumped through me like liquid fire. There was nothing quite like a chase, and one that ended with
this
reward was the best chase of all. Chloe knew that. I was part wolf—an idea I was finally starting to accept. Running and chasing wore off the restless gnawing in my gut. I don’t hunt animals yet. I will. I can feel the urge, when I cross their trails in wolf form, but I’m not ready for that. These mock-hunts with Chloe do the trick for now.

A month ago, my dad caught us goofing around, Chloe running and hiding, while I chased and stalked. He took me aside for a talk and said he worried we might be tempting instincts we weren’t ready to handle. He meant sex, of course, but something else, too.

“Chasing humans is dangerous, Derek,” he said. “That’s one of the challenges a werewolf faces. When you chase, you chase to hunt. To kill.”

Except I didn’t. There was no doubt, no question, no concern. I never chased Chloe and thought of her as prey. I thought of other things, sure—that was part of the fun of it—but I had that under control. We both knew we weren’t ready for sex. But Dad’s other concern was groundless.

Project Genesis was about removing drawbacks to supernatural powers. For werewolves, the urge to kill a fleeing human would be one of those drawbacks, and it was one they’d obviously fixed. I didn’t tell Dad that, though, or he’d worry I was being overly confident. I wasn’t. When I chased Chloe, I saw only Chloe.

And so I chased her now.

Being a wolf, you’d really think I’d have the advantage in the forest. Except this was dense forest, and I’m a big guy, and Chloe’s small and fast. She quickly learned that if she leaves the path, she can get away faster. So she does. Which leaves me relying on my only real advantage out here—my senses.

Sense of smell is the easiest. I can pick up her scent on the wind . . . if she stays upwind, which she knows better than to do. I can follow her trail on the ground, but I haven’t quite mastered that in human form. It’s better to rely on my hearing, which would work a whole lot better if she didn’t know I could detect a twig cracking a quarter-mile away. So she sticks to thick woods, stays downwind and moves quietly. Which only makes it more fun, more challenging. A welcome chance to hone my skills.

I didn’t even bother trying to follow her into the brush. I ran along the paths, chasing her scent on the wind until she circled back to get downwind. Which I knew she’d do, so I was ready for it. I leaped into her path. She let out a stifled shriek. I lunged. She spun and ran. I jumped back on the path and raced along it, hearing the soft huff of her breathing and the crackle of undergrowth as she tore through the forest alongside me. I kicked it up a notch, watched for a clear spot, and then darted into the woods to cut her off again.

This time, she didn’t shriek. She cursed, as she realized she’d fallen for the same stunt twice. Then she turned and ran the other way, deeper into the forest, and it was my turn to curse as I realized I’d unintentionally sent her downwind.

Now she’d figured out my scheme and was staying far from the path. She wasn’t bothering to stay quiet, either, knowing the forest there was too thick for me to catch up. I ran along the trail, mentally mapping the system of paths, figuring out which would bring me closest to her, as I tracked the sounds of her escape.

Then the forest went silent. She’d stopped running. Found a place and holed up and wasn’t giving me any more clues.

This was when the real challenge began. I grinned and broke into a jog.

There was a decent breeze, so my best plan was to get downwind of her hiding spot and catch her scent. As I ran, I did some more mental mapping, this time trying to figure out where she might have stopped. There was a bike path farther down. Had she gone past it? I didn’t think so.

As I jogged, an odor rushed past on the breeze. While I’m quick to recognize the scent of someone I know well, I’m also quick to recognize a smell that my brain has filed under “potential threat.” But there’s a split-second lapse between my brain saying “I know that smell” and identifying it. So when this scent passed, the first thing I realized was that I knew it, and I started to grin, jumping to the conclusion it was Chloe. Then, as I veered that way, my brain finished processing and I stopped in my tracks.

Cologne. I was smelling cologne. The same cologne that had washed over me in the food court.

Carter.

I spun. No one was there, of course. The scent was a distant one. But I could definitely smell it. Carter was in these woods. He’d followed us from the mall.

I remembered seeing his grandfather across the food court. I’d felt a jolt of recognition, but I’d brushed it off because he didn’t look like someone I’d forget. But what if I had? What if I’d spotted him in the chaos at the Edison Group lab—just a split-second glimpse of a face that I hadn’t consciously registered. What if Carter had been there, too? Two Edison Group employees. Or an employee and a subject.

That would explain the cologne—if they thought I’d recognize their scent, that would hide it. The older man had been careful to stay back, to be extra cautious. Carter hadn’t, which could be why he’d caught shit from the older man.

It’d been a setup. The Edison Group had found us and they’d sent Carter over to lure Chloe away. That hadn’t worked. So now they were here, where they could hunt both of us down.

I lunged forward, Chloe’s name on my lips. I clamped my jaw shut before it escaped. I couldn’t let them know I was on to them. Couldn’t let them know she was alone. So I kept my mouth closed and barreled into the woods.

It seemed to take forever to catch her scent. In truth, it took about twenty running paces. I stopped short and inhaled. Her smell was thick enough that I knew she was close. I followed it, head down, until I practically ran into a tree trunk. Then I looked up to see her stretched out on a limb.

“Hello,” she said, grinning. “You’re getting better at . . .”

Her words and her smile died as she caught my expression. She scrambled from the tree. Before she reached the ground, I caught her arm. She paused and peeled my fingers away. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t give me a look. Didn’t even wince. But I let go fast, murmuring an apology. Most times, I remember how strong I am, but when I get stressed, I forget, which is a problem we’re working on . . . before I leave her arms permanently bruised.

I leaned down and told her what I’d smelled, and how I interpreted it.

“I could be wrong,” I whispered. Now that she was here, safe, that first jolt of panic had ebbed. “Maybe he was just cutting through the woods with his grandfather.”

“Maybe, but you aren’t the only one who thought that whole food court thing was weird. If he’s here, we should check it out.”

My gut clenched, instinct telling me to say no, absolutely not, she had to get back to the house, safe with Dad, while I scouted. But these days, the gap between instinct and logic is getting smaller, meaning I rarely blurt out something like that, which is good, because she really doesn’t appreciate it. She was right. If Carter and his “grandfather” were here now, the best defense was a good offense. Go after them. Get a better look. Get proof that we were in trouble before I ran back to Dad with my story.

When we set out, though, the smell of cologne was gone. Thinking back, I hadn’t detected it since that first whiff. We did a full and thorough loop of the outer trails, but there was no sign—or scent—of either guy. Finally, after about thirty minutes of searching, I found Carter’s cologne trail. He’d only gone a few hundred feet into the forest, avoiding the paths. Then he’d backtracked out again.

What did that mean? I had no idea . . . except that it reeked of trouble. It was time to convince Dad we’d stayed in one place long enough. We needed to hit the road again.