I NAVIGATED TYLER to the Speedy Mart, which was on the corner of a wide intersection between subdivisions. The snowplows had given up awhile ago, and the wind had blown drifts across the streets. We only made it through because Tyler gunned the Humvee, and the chains bit into the snow. The streetlights were on; sheets of huge snowflakes—golf-ball-size chunks of icy, clinging snow, really—fell through the orange beams. It would have been beautiful—if I’d been watching it from inside a heated room.
A single car, half covered by a drift of snow, was parked in the lot. A light was on inside the convenience store, but I didn’t see anyone behind the counter. The place might not have been open, but that was okay—we could put the symbol on the outside. I hoped.
Tyler swerved to a stop by the curb in front of the door.
“I don’t suppose anyone has a pen and paper? A can of spray paint?” I said.
“Why don’t we ask him?” Ben said, nodded through the window.
A scruffy-looking guy in his early twenties was pulling himself to his feet. He looked like he’d been lying down behind the counter.
Ben and I piled out. Tyler waited, keeping the motor running.
The door was unlocked, and a tinny bell rang as we pushed in. The guy behind the counter, fully upright now, stared at us. Ben and I must have been a sight: still in jeans and T-shirts, we’d been soaked wet and dried off a couple of times over. My hair felt like a nest and my eyes had shadows under them. I might have had a fading bruise or two left over from the fight with Vanderman.
“Hi,” I said. “I wondered if you had a marker that we could borrow, or for sale, or something.” I smiled in a way that I hoped was cheerful rather than crazed.
He pointed down one of the aisles. “We have a few office supplies there.”
“Thanks.” I ran. Sure enough, I found a package of Sharpies. The nice, thick, stinky kind. I picked up three and brought them to the counter. Ben got out his wallet to pay.
“That’s it?” he said. He sounded numb.
“No, wait.” I made a quick tour of the store, grabbing sodas, a package of beef jerky, a box of cookies. This ought to get us through. “Anything else?” I asked Ben.
“Permission?” he said.
“Ah. Not just yet.”
The clerk dutifully scanned our items. “Would you like a bag?”
This was getting kind of surreal. A gust of wind rattled the door and snow pelted the glass. “Yes, please.”
The transaction completed, the clerk, still blinking dazedly, said, “Thank you for choosing Speedy Mart.”
I grinned, teeth showing. “I didn’t choose Speedy Mart. Speedy Mart chose me. Oh, and I’m really sorry about this.”
I ripped one of the markers out of the packaging before handing the bag back to Ben. We both looked at the door, and the clear space of wall—a clean white canvas—above it. There didn’t seem to be any convenient footstools or chairs around.
“Can you lift me up?” I said.
“I think so,” Ben answered.
First, though, I flipped open the phone so I could look at the picture. I’d never taken an art class in my life. I hoped the thunder gods were forgiving of my lack of talent.
Kneeling, Ben held my legs while I sat on his shoulder, and he stood. Werewolf strength meant he didn’t even wobble, but I had to grab his other shoulder to keep my balance.
“You okay?” he said.
“Yup.” I started drawing.
“Hey, what are you doing?” the kid said, rushing around the counter. He didn’t get closer than about ten feet. He just stopped, hand outstretched, watching with an expression that resembled hopelessness.
“Breaking a spell. I hope,” I said.
“Huh? But—you can’t—I mean—”
“The blizzard? Not normal. We’re here to save the city.”
The guy started laughing, hysterical. “This sucks! I mean, who are you? What the hell—” He sat down and put his head in his hands.
I was almost finished drawing the thunder mark, just adding the circles.
“Hey, are you okay?” Ben asked him.
“No. I was supposed to be off my shift six hours ago, but I can’t get home, and no one else can get here. The manager said I should just stay open as long as I was here. I’ve been here for fourteen hours!”
What could I say? That really did suck.
“Okay, I’m done,” I said to Ben, and he let me slide to the floor. We regarded my artwork, comparing it to the image on my phone. It looked like it was supposed to—the distinct wheel-like symbol, as big as my face. And if I wasn’t mistaken, the wind seemed to have died down a little. It may have been my imagination.
“It just seems way too easy,” Ben said.
I stared at him. “We just drove eighty miles through a blizzard in a Humvee—you call that easy?”
Ben made an offhand shrug, and he had a point—that was actually one of the easier things we’d done today.
“Who
“Please don’t paint it or wash it off or anything. At least for a couple of days,” I said.
“But—”
“Seriously.”
He clenched his hands and drew himself up with new resolve. “I’m calling my manager.” He marched to a phone behind the counter.
We both ran to beat him to it. Ben lunged over the counter to grab the base and pull out the cord. I went right for the receiver in his hand and snatched it away. The clerk yelled and scrambled away from me to press himself against the wall, panting for breath. We must have looked pretty aggressive—a couple of wolves on the run. And he’d acted a lot like prey. Smiling, I glared at him and resisted licking my lips.
“How about we give you a ride home?” I said. “We’ve got a Humvee with chains.”
He only took about five seconds to say yes. Ten more minutes ticked off the clock while we waited for him to get his things, shut off the lights, switch on the alarm, and lock up. We waited in the Humvee.
“What’s up with that?” Ben asked, looking at me. “Giving him a ride?”
“It’s the only thing I could think of,” I said.
“Oh, I’m not complaining, it’s not a bad idea. It’s not a
“What’s going on?” Tyler asked.
The kid hauled open the front passenger door, which creaked on its hinges, and climbed it. He needed a couple of tries to make it up to the seat. When he had to lean way over to close the door again, I was afraid he was going to fall out, but he managed the stunt.
“Whoa, I’ve never ridden in one of these before. This is, like, a real one. Not a Hummer. Right?” He looked around. We were all glaring at him. He leaned away from the large and intimidating presence of Tyler and looked like he was maybe reconsidering the ride.
“Uh, hi.” The clerk said. “I live just a couple miles away. A block or so off Keystone. Um, thanks for the ride, I guess.”
Tyler shifted into gear and the Humvee crunched forward on a new layer of snow.
“You think it’s getting better?” Ben said, craning his neck to look up out the window.
It would be easy to fool ourselves into thinking so. The snow was still falling in giant flakes. But it was falling straight down in lazy drifting patterns now, instead of driving horizontally.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Um, turn left here.” The clerk pointed to an intersection, and Tyler drove through. The streetlights might have been red, but we couldn’t tell because they were covered with a layer of white.
Away from the store, the wind started blowing again, kicking up eddies and whirlwinds of snow around us. It
