The Hunted (Sleeping With Monsters Book 2) (20 page)

I paced across the small
stretch of non-tripwired ground the cabin had left, until the light breaking
through the boards over the windows faded and I felt the moon coming up.

Yes,
my wolf hissed.

I changed, and then
he
was in charge.

I was trapped in the glass
room again, inside my wolf but not a part of him, not like the night before
when we’d been sharing my body. He had the wisdom to sit on his haunches and
breathed deep, listening for the pack. They usually came up as a group and
parked their cars a few miles in before abandoning them for the change –
wouldn’t want a tourist coming across empty cars full of mysterious clothing in
the dark. I knew they’d howl shortly though, their wolves triumphing at finally
being in control again.

There. One lonely sound,
instantly joined by others, all baying at the moon. None of them would even
notice my absence – I usually only skulked in after a kill, to show my head and
my fealty, strained as it was, to Syd. They would be stretching out, each wolf
to his own devices as they started off through the forest, spreading out until
someone scented something worth chasing down and called the others over.

This time, instead of a deer
or a bear or a mountain lion, they’d scent
her
– and me.

And Syd would know.

Blood sunk into my balls just
thinking about her, my wolf and I both aching for release. But we sat still and
waited until –

One high sharp bark. The sound
of a curious wolf. Georgie. I imagined him, his brindle fur matching in with
the forest behind him, as he trotted down the southeastern trail I’d set up. It
wouldn’t be long now, if everything went according to plan –

A screeching sound of pain. Normal
traps wouldn’t hurt a were, but ones coated in silver – the more the wolf
struggled, the more of the silver that’d rub against his skin. Blisters would
rise and burst as more of the silver got in -- Georgie howled in anger and
embarrassment, and then desperation as he realized the trap would be impossible
to pull off. Silver would be coursing through his bloodstream – the others
wouldn’t be able to help him without also poisoning themselves, and none of
them would have opposable thumbs until dawn. Judging from the sounds he was
making, he didn’t have that long.

I’d heard tell that silver
poisoning was an awful way to go. My wolf looked down at our chest, where Sam’s
locket had scarred us, and mixed with the sounds Georgie was making now, we
believed.

Other wolves picked up the
sounds he made, sounding mournful and frustrated. And then one final long howl
of warning. Syd’s wolf, threatening me.

It’d begun.

Now we paced. The safe width
of the cabin was barely twice as long as we were, so we walked in tight
circles, always listening, our sheathed cock swaying between our legs. The rest
of my pack talked amongst themselves in the language of our kind, howls and
barks –
come here, go there, scent this!, now! --
and I knew from being
so intimate with our forest which scent they had found. JD howled in triumph at
evading a trap – only to whine when the first of the springguns got him. The
other wolves yipped in horror, and I imagined JD, seeds of poisonous silver
boiling underneath his skin. He bayed like he was dying, because he was.

Part of me roiled at hearing
his pain. The pack had been all I had for the majority of my life, except for
my fleeting time with Vincent. But what had they ever done for me, once my
propensities were known? Had they ever treated me with kindness since? And what
they’d done to Vincent – what they wanted to do to Sam – a growl started low in
our belly and it chased away all our doubt.

The woods went silent – no
doubt as the other wolves spread out to more carefully look for me. JD had
died.

Two down, seven to go.

Thirty minutes passed in
silence. I had to assume they were being more careful now, canvassing the
forest with more concern. They knew I was trapped in here as a wolf, just like
them – and they wanted to reach me by dawn so that they would be allowed to
tear me apart.

At last, sharp yips and
howling in abject fear. A trap had gotten Mike – the howling was immediately cut
off.

Had the silver really
killed Mike that quickly?

Or had Syd torn out his
throat to shut him up? Asserting himself before anyone could get scared and
back down?

I assumed the latter
was more likely.

Two gunshots, close
together – whoever’d gotten shot going into the creek, had gotten shot again
running back out of it. Damn.

Four,
I counted inside my wolf.

A high squeal from
behind the cabin – someone’d been trying to circle around to surprise me, and a
trap had gotten them.

Three.

Instead of howling, the last
wolf growled. I’d know that sound anywhere. Karl.

The growling came closer,
louder, more frustrated. He was in the clearing in front of the cabin now,
sounding rabid. He clambered up the porch stairs slowly and I could see him by
the moonlight, he had three paws free, and the last one was dragging a
silver-covered trap. He lifted his lips and snarled at me, gnashing his teeth,
daring me to come out and fight him.

Feelings in me surged, wanting
to answer his anger with my own, to punish him for all the times he’d
brutalized me in the past, the times he’d made me lick him low, but I held back
as he came forward. He shambled into the cabin, going slower still as the
poison burned him from the inside out, and I snarled –

In one final fuck you, Karl
lunged, with the last of his strength – and set off two out of the three
springguns.

Shit!

The rounds made his body jerk
and spasm, but the shots were wasted, he was already dead.

My wolf howled out his
frustration, and Syd’s chattered back from outside, taunting me.

Karl hadn’t told Syd anything
before he’d died, though – which meant my last trap was still in place. I
stepped carefully on a piece of wood taped to hit a button on my phone, and
Sam’s voice came out of it.

“Is it over, Maxie?” a
recording of her asked, breathless, frightened.

Syd’s wolf appeared in the
doorway. His eyes narrowed when he saw me, and he stepped in just as far as
Karl had. No more – no less.

It didn’t matter that he still
had backup outside -- if he figured out that Sam wasn’t here – my wolf sprung
into action, jumping over the final tripwire.

Syd reared up to meet me halfway.
His teeth went for my throat but I twisted and smacked his jaws away with a
forepaw, hard. His head twisted with the blow and came back up, snarling, teeth
going for the side of my head, hoping to catch the soft part underneath my jaw
or eye. I twisted to meet his teeth with mine, our fangs clashing together, I
tasted the blood of a ripped tongue, and felt teeth penetrating my gums. We
growled and snarled, causing one another even pain, and then he tried to push
me back.

I knew where the tripwire was.
I had to reverse our positions so that it was him moving backwards, not me. I
reared back and spun around him, like I was aiming to clip his hamstrings with
my teeth. He whirled, crouching low to give me less to aim for, and then it was
his turn to be pressed back. He didn’t want to give no matter how fast I
harried him, snapping at his muzzle, neck, and feet. I had him on the defensive
though – sooner or later, he would mess up – when he snarled again, this time a
command, and Tony came through the open door behind my back.

I angled myself to try to hide
my flank – it was clear from Tony’s actions that he did not want to be here,
his head was low, subservient, perhaps sensing that Syd’s time would soon be at
an end – but in the time it took for me to assess him, Syd had leapt back, and
in one lucky move – the kind of luck that I never got – had missed the final
tripwire entirely. Instead, his right rear paw fell onto the wooden stylus I’d
used to operate the phone.

“Is it over, Maxie?” Sam asked
again.

Syd stiffened, realizing my
deception. And if Sam wasn’t here – without a pack to lead he didn’t need to
fight me, as much as he needed to find her. He leapt for the open door past
Tony, missing the goddamned tripwire yet again, racing off into the night.

Tony watched him go and then
looked at me, plainly torn. I’d been besting Syd, and we three were the only
wolves left. He could still side with his old master – or show fealty to his
new one.

The way that it was always
done was to show your belly and throat, exposing your most tender parts, a sign
of utter trust.

Instead, Tony turned and sat
down on all fours, curling his tail out of the way – offering to let me take
him, as the others had taken me in the past.

I howled in irritation, and
raced past him out the door. 

Chapter Twenty-one

At eleven thirty I put the
truck in park and hopped out. The side street I’d parked on was bathed in
moonlight. Was Max done fighting for his life? Had it worked? I wished the moon
could give me a sign.

I pulled on my backpack, and
walked over to the Rider park fence.

Rider Plaza was in the middle
of the park. Family members weren’t known for their appreciation of the outdoors,
especially not past nightfall. They had streetcorners to run, clubs to bounce,
whores to bully – which wasn’t to say the plaza was safe. The dregs of town
wound up here, people who weren’t straight enough to get into a shelter for the
night and those who preyed on them, scrabbling over one another’s scraps. 

I hunched over with my bag as
the chain fence rattled too loudly behind me. The book was in the back pocket
of Max’s jeans, the folding knife in the front pocket, and both were covered by
my sweater. If someone held me up, I’d gladly give them all the cash the bag
held, but if they tried to get the book, they’d get cut for it.

With the moon out, navigating
wasn’t too hard – I’d chosen this back part because it was closest to the plaza
as the crow flies. I saw a guy nodding off under a tree, and gave him a wide
berth.

What was Max doing right now?
I knew he knew the forest inside and out – but I’d seen what the pack had done
to him, I couldn’t not worry. One wrong step – hell, he could get shot by one
of his own guns – the sound of someone getting beaten or roughly fucked inside
a nearby grove startled me. I had to keep myself safe, for now. I cast one more
glance up at the moon, and walked on.

The path was demarcated
by sharp little metal posts that’d had their bronze caps stolen for scrap. I
angled around a shadowed corner, and heard someone whisper. “What’re you doing
here?” and jumped back, landing softly. Recognized so soon? Shit shit shit -- “What’re
you doing here, man, what’re you doing here?”

I saw the speaker. He pawed at
one ear like a dog and I realized he wasn’t talking to me, yet. I made a wide
circle, staying in the shadows of the trees on the path’s other side until he
was far behind.

The path widened until the
plaza was visible. If it were a safer place, it’d have been gorgeous underneath
the moonlight. I had no problem seeing the men and women huddled in sleeping
bags and cardboard boxes, arranged in an oddly specific geometry around the
perimeter. There was safety in numbers here, even if you didn’t want anyone
else to get too close.

I walked out to the fountain
in the center, and sat down on its edge like I was waiting for a date, being watched
by twenty sets of cautious eyes.

Seconds later I heard the
click of a fearless heel atop cement. I wasn’t sure what the difference between
a cop and a marshall was – and Marshall Bren looked like a cop. Sharp
shoulders, a paunch, and a general air of righteousness. Instincts from my
former life rose up in me -- how many times had I had to blow cops for free, so
they wouldn’t bust me? How many times had I been busted afterwards, just
because they could? I grit my teeth, trapping words, and allowing no entry.

He sat down beside me, and
spoke without preamble. “What on earth were you thinking, meeting here?”

I wasn’t the only one who knew
who he was – a few people got up and moved away, like they had other places to
be at midnight. “How do I know you are who you say you are?”

He opened up a wallet and
flashed me a badge plus ID. I’d never seen a Marshall’s badge before – but if
Vincent had trusted him – I nodded.

“You have it, right?”

I nodded again.

“On you? Can I see it?”

It was the only leverage I
had. I stared at him, and he at me.

“I’m sorry about your man. He
was trying to do some good at the end. I wish he’d come to us sooner – and that
we’d been able to protect him.”

His admission of culpability,
right or wrong, was kind. And despite the fact that I knew as a cop he was
using me with that kindness, I decided to share the book anyway. “Okay.” I
pulled it out of my pocket and handed it over.

He unsheathed a flashlight and
bit its far end, so that the light beamed down onto each handscrawled page. It
took all my strength not to hold onto the book’s other side – I reached for my
locket and chain instead. They were the only things I had left from him now.

He thumbed through page after
page, grunting. “Shit yeah,” he said around the flashlight. “This is perfect.”

“You can use it? The whole
thing?” I tried to be circumspect.

“A lot of people are going to
be facing a lot of time, thanks to your man.” He carefully put the book into a
suit pocket.

“Good.” I stood up, shouldering
my bag.

Marshall Bren stood as well. “My
chivalrous nature won’t let me leave you here alone.”

“I got in fine, I’ll get out
fine.”

“I’m not worried about
tonight. It’s tomorrow, and the day after that -- you’re not going to be safe
in town ever again. You need to come with me.”