The Better to Bite (13 page)

It had to be the same wolf, right? I mean just how many crazy wolves could be running free out there in the woods of Haven?

A day after we found Sissy, my dad recovered the remains of another hiker. Only with this one, the ME noticed the deep scratches on the bones. Scratches that had come from claw marks.

The ME, a guy my dad called Donovan, hadn’t been especially surprised by the marks. He’d said there were plenty of hungry animals stalking the woods.

But I didn’t think we were dealing with just
any
animal.

The wolf was making a habit of killing in Haven’s woods.

When I left school that day, I took the bus home. Rafe hadn’t exactly been appearing with an offer of a ride lately, so I was stuck with bus duty whether I liked it or not. I went home, I did my homework, then I stared at the woods until darkness fell.

I stared and I stared.

Then I heard the gunshots.

My blood iced even as I leapt to my feet. The blasts came again, thundering, echoing through the woods. I grabbed the wooden railing on the porch and strained to see through the dark.

An engine growled. My head whipped to the right, and I saw my dad’s car racing toward the house. Dust and gravel flew in his wake. The car shuddered to a stop, and he leapt out in the next instant.

“Get inside, Anna!” His roar. My dad did that—when he was scared, he tended to sound like a bear.

I inched back a few steps. “Dad, what’s going on?” Some hunters, that’s all. South Carolina had to be full of hunters, and just because I didn’t know when the hunting seasons started and ended—

“Mark Hamilton and a bunch of his friends are after the wolf.”

Mark Hamilton. Sissy’s dad.

“They’re drunk, baby, and I got a tip that they’re out shooting up the woods.”

Cause drinking and guns always mixed.

“Rafe’s dad—”

Ah, I guess that had been his tipster.

“—he said they’re tracking down from the Hamilton house.  Damn fools. If they aren’t careful, they’ll wind up shooting somebody.”

I was in front of our door. My bare toes curled over the wooden porch.

He exhaled on a rough, frustrated sigh. “Stray bullets can hit anywhere. They
know
better.” He stepped closer to the porch and the light hit him.

I realized my dad had on a bright orange vest—and he was carrying a rifle.

“Go inside, now, and don’t come out until I come back.”

Wait. Hold up. “You’re not just going
in
the woods?” I asked him, heart racing. “Dad, they could shoot you!”

“And I’ve got to stop them before they hurt someone else!”

I grabbed the door knob. “You’re going in alone?” Bad, bad plan. Dad knew how important it was to always have back up close by.

A four-wheeler burst from the woods then. Deputy Jon Parker bent low over the handlebars, and his handsome face was locked in lines of tension. Jon was only a few years older than me, but from what I’d overheard before, I knew my dad thought the guy was the best deputy in the department. For my dad’s sake, I hoped he was right.

I noticed that Jon had on an orange vest, too.

“No,” my Dad said, “I’m not going in alone. I’ve got my deputies scouring those woods for them.”

Deputy Jon inclined his head toward me.

I eased inside the house. “Be careful!”

But he was already gone.

And I could hear the retort of gunfire.

Gunfire…and the howl of wolves.

I hurried inside and slammed the door shut behind me.

***

A long, mournful wail jerked my attention from the Trig book on the kitchen table. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t into Trig right then. I kept peeking out the window and hoping to see some sign of my dad.

So far…nothing.

The howl had me rising and creeping once more to the window. I pulled back the curtain and peered outside. I didn’t see anything.

I turned away.

Seconds later, something slammed into the front door, and I gasped.

Hard, heavy. The whole house seemed to shake with the impact.

Very, very slowly, I turned back around.

Once more, I looked outside, but I couldn’t see anything.  From this angle, I
wouldn’t
be able to see what was on the other side of that door.

I crept toward the door and risked a fast glance out of the peephole.

Nothing.

But…

I could hear a faint scratching. Like nails, digging into the wood.

I jumped back, then I turned and ran as fast as I could for the closet in my dad’s room.

I knew my dad. Knew how he thought. Knew where he hid his weapons. It took me about three seconds to shove a chair into his closet and climb up on it to find the back-up gun he’d tucked onto the top shelf.

Dad had taught me to use a gun, and I really was a very good shot. I loaded the bullets, climbed down, and carefully inched back toward the living room.

I heard the scratches instantly. Scratches and a low whine.

An animal in pain. Possibly dying. But weren’t those the most dangerous types of animals?

I didn’t open the door. “Get out of here!” I yelled, hoping my voice would scare the beast away. “Just get out of here!”

I didn’t hear the sound of fleeing feet, but I did hear… “
Anna.”

My name, so soft, barely slipping past that locked door.

Then… “
Help me.”

Not an animal. Oh, crap. I kept my hold on the gun and fumbled with the lock. I jerked and twisted and the door creaked opened, not too much. Just a few inches.

The porch light fell on his dark hair.

“
Rafe?”

He was lying on his stomach, with his arms outstretched toward the door. He was naked,
totally naked
, and blood gushed from wounds on his back.

I dropped to my knees. “Rafe! What happened?” But I knew what those wounds were on his back. No way could I mistake gunshot wounds, not with my dad’s job.

He grabbed for my leg, and that was when I realized something was very, very wrong with his hands. Because he didn’t just have
hands.
Long, thick claws—actual freaking claws—burst from his fingertips. Claws like an animal would have. Not fingernails like a human should possess.

I stopped breathing.

His head lifted, and he looked up at me. His face…it was different, too. His cheeks were sharper, his jaw longer, his whole face thinner. And his eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were bright yellow. Glowing.

The wolf’s eyes.

“
Help…me.”
The voice wasn’t his. That hard, desperate grating seemed more like an animal’s growl than anything else.

His claws were wrapped around my knee. His eyes burned into mine. His blood dripped onto my porch.

I lifted my gun and pointed it right between his eyes.  “What are you?” But I knew—
I knew.

He stared back at me with a wolf’s eyes.

Voices shouted in the distance. More gunfire echoed.

The hunters had nailed their wolf. Did they even realize it?

“
Not me,”
he grated out with that broken voice. “
Didn’t kill…anyone.”

“What. Are. You?” My hands were sweating, but my hold on the weapon was rock-steady.

His lips pulled back as he grimaced in pain, and I got a good look at his teeth. His canines were long and sharp—longer and far sharper than they’d been before.

The better to—

“Please.” His head fell onto the porch as his body began to shudder.

My gaze darted to the darkness of the woods. Crap, crap,
crap.
“If you so much as try to bite or claw me, I
will
shoot you.”

But Rafe wasn’t talking. His body shuddered and twisted and as I watched, the claws began to recede and normal fingernails slid into their place.

The voices were coming closer. Those shouts were so much clearer now.

Not just voices. Dogs. Barking, yapping dogs that were tracking—Rafe?

Gritting my teeth, I kicked open the front door. I put the gun down—had to do it—and then I grabbed Rafe’s arms. The claws were completely gone now. Thank goodness.

Werewolf. He’s a freaking werewolf.

I yanked. The guy didn’t move. He weighed a ton.

I yanked again. There we go. Now we were moving a few inches. I pulled some more.
More
. His body slipped over the threshold.

I heaved and yanked and tried not to think about the extra damage I was doing to him. The hunters were too close now. The dogs sounded frantic as they followed the scent of blood right to my doorstep.

There wasn’t any time to waste. As soon as Rafe was clear of the door, I grabbed for the gun, lunged over him and landed on the porch. I reached back with my left hand and slammed the front door shut behind me.

Taking a deep breath, I jumped up, swung out with my fist, and shattered the porch light.

Instantly, I was plunged into darkness. I bounded down the steps.

The dogs snarled and barked.

Come and get me.

Lights burst from the woods as the hunters swarmed. A few of them had flashlights, and they directed them right on me.

“Call off your dogs!” I screamed because those dogs were making a beeline right for me—I had Rafe’s scent on me—and for my house. My house…where all of that nice blood covered my porch.

Don’t let them shine the lights up there. Don’t let them see.

There were four hunters. All armed with rifles. They could see me since I was in their bright pool of light, but I couldn’t tell a thing about them.

Two men hauled the dogs back.

“Girl, you shouldn’t be out here.”

I knew that voice. Sissy’s dad. His voice still shook with grief and rage.

“This is my home,” I said. The gun was hidden behind my back. For now. If one of those snarling dogs charged at me, the gun would come out. “You’re the ones who don’t need to be here! My dad is looking for you and when he finds—”

The familiar grind of an engine reached my ears, and I almost sagged in relief. Seconds later, the four-wheeler burst from the woods. “Dad!”

He leapt from the four-wheeler and jumped in front of me. “I damn well know you are
not
pointing your weapons at my daughter.”

Another four wheeler burst onto the scene, its bright lights bobbing. Deputy Jon’s radio crackled as he called for backup.

My dad’s weapon was out, and I knew he had it aimed right at Mark Hamilton. “Drop your guns—
now.
” His lethal order.

“I-I…the wolf—”

“Drop them or I’ll be the one who starts shooting.” My dad’s voice was flat and cold, and I shivered.

The rifles hit the ground.

“Now pull those dogs back. Tell them to
heel.”
Because the dogs were jerking against their leashes as they fought to get at my house.

No, to get at Rafe.

Sharp orders from their handlers had the dogs whining, but easing back.

“Anna, go back into the house.”

With Rafe.

“I’m taking these men into the station.”

Yes. Problem number one was solved.

“
What?
” Sissy’s dad again. Now he sounded all shocked. What had the guy expected to happen?

“Mark,” my dad said, “don’t you even know when you crossed the line? You could have killed someone tonight.”

I heard Mark sob then. I’d never heard a man cry before. “Sissy,” he said her name like it was a prayer. The dogs whined. “I just want my baby home.”

There was so much pain in his voice. I swallowed and glanced up at the moon. Not quite full, not yet.

“Go to the house,” my dad told me, his voice softer, and his fingers brushed over my arm. “Lock the door. Stay inside until it’s secure here.”

Secure. Right. Because more backup would be there soon.

The fury that had drove the men to hunt for Sissy’s killer had faded until only grief remained.

I turned carefully, still concealing my gun, and headed back for the house. I didn’t run. Didn’t look fearfully back.

Just headed for Rafe.

I slipped inside the house. Bolted the door. Then looked down at him.

Rafe had propped himself up against the wall just under the bay window. His claws were still gone and his face—well, he looked like Rafe again. Sweat had slickened his hair, and he’d yanked a couch cushion down to cover his—

I cleared my throat.

His gaze lifted slowly. A blue gaze now. A weak, tired blue gaze. “Are you…turning me in?” His voice rasped out. His gaze darted to my gun.

I hesitated. “Did you kill Sissy?” I had to know.

He shook his head.

I wanted to believe him.

“I promise,” he told me, voice rumbling. “Anna,
I swear,
I didn’t hurt her.”

His gaze held mine. 

The dogs started to bark again. Those were some damn tenacious dogs. I exhaled. “We need to get you into another room. If my dad comes in…”

“I-I can’t move.”

I blinked and the ball in my gut tightened. He’d been shot in the back, and then I’d yanked him inside and—
what did I do?

“Silver.” He licked his lips and closed his eyes. “One of those hunters…the guy actually knew what he was doin’.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He shot me with a silver bullet—that’s what made me lose my form.”

His form? Like the form of a wolf?

Don’t freak out now. Don’t.
I knew I had to hold things together for a little while longer. Just a little bit. Until the deputies were gone and the dogs were safely away.

Maybe then I could have a breakdown.

But…
silver? A werewolf?
My heart raced so fast I was sure it would bust out of my chest at any moment.

Rafe’s skin had taken on an ashen color. I eased into a crouch before him.

“You have to…get the bullet out…” His breath expelled in a slow rush. “Or I won’t stop…bleeding.”

Um, no, surely the werewolf hadn’t just asked me to dig a bullet out of his back.

“If you don’t…” The click of his swallow was painful to hear. “I’ll…die…”

I gave Rafe a quilt to use as a temporary cover, and he managed to lay flat down on the floor. I heard my dad talking outside. Other voices rose and fell.