Betrayals

could tell by the way his voice sucked at the world around it, oily and cold.

And it sounded like he was after me.

Well, duh, Dru. Big deal. Stay still. The maddening tickle got worse. It was like a sharp stick digging into the back of my throat. Reflex tears built up in my eyes, hot and aching. A thin finger of fog was creeping closer and closer to my feet, and I knew that it would touch me, and when it did the sucker would know I was here, and—

The werwulf’s growl changed pitch and tone.

“Don’t presume to bark at me, beast. The Master wants—”

I didn’t get to find out what the Master wanted, because the werwulf sprang away from me.

He collided with the sucker like a runaway freight train, a crunch that echoed between the fog-hung trees. The sucker let out an amazing, blood-chilling howl. They rolled over and over, hitting and splintering trees, bones and teeth snapping.

Move move move! Dad’s bark in my head, as if I was on the heavy bag again, popping punches and sweating, wanting to make him proud. Or as if we were dealing with those roach spirits again, me passing ammo through the window with shaking hands and—

I scrambled to my feet, thorns raking every exposed edge and pulling at my sweater like they were trying to tell me to stay down, and bolted. Leapt over the fingers of vapor crawling over the ground like I was doing football tryouts or something, skipping too fast to really keep my balance. It didn’t matter where I was heading, as long as it was away.

The woods got deeper and denser, and I tore through them. Trees whipped past, some of them clutching at me like they were on the sucker’s side, trying to slow me down. More thorny vines snaked across my path, but the fog had retreated. I floundered through, making a hell of a lot of noise, and heard a high, chilling howl behind me.

I thought wulfen howls were bad when I heard them in my own garage. Hearing the high, glassy cry in the middle of the woods at night is infinitely worse, because the howl sounds like it could be words if you just listen hard enough. The horrible thing is that it pulls on that deep hidden part in every person, the blind animal part.

The part that knows you’re the prey.

But the worst thing about it?

Is when it sounds right behind you, and something hits from behind, tumbling you into another thorn-spiked mess of vines and branches, leaf mold and dirt filling your nose, and a huge, hot, hairy hand winds in your hair.

CHAPTER 9

I tried to scream, but the other paw-hand had clamped over my mouth just before I could get enough air in. Hot breath touched the top of my head as we both lay for a second, me with the sense knocked out of me, stunned and scraped all over.

Goddammit, girl, that ain’t gonna cut it! Dad’s voice yelled in my head. Let’s see some action here!

It’s what he used to yell when I was working the heavy bag, so tired my arms were about to fall off. It meant I was going to have to do more, be more, in order to help him. He needed his helper, and that was me, and death doesn’t wait for when you’re rested and ready. It sneaks up on you when you’re exhausted and hungry and cold and so scared you can’t even see straight.

I thrashed, flung my head back and clipped a wet, cold nose with my skull. It hurt and the wulf made a little pained yowl, like a puppy running into something. My elbow sank into his midriff, and he huffed out another sound with a whine at the end. His hand loosened from my hair, but that was only so he could grab me by the waist as I struggled and he braced himself.

His arms clamped down like steel bands, and he growled. Terror short-circuited everything inside my head, and I still don’t know how I got free, rolling away along a slippery, gucky strip of rotting leaves.

He growled again and scrambled fluidly to his feet. I scooted backward, my filthy palms skidding in muck and dirt, and hitched in a breath to scream, as the wulf gathered himself, the white streak glowing at his temple like a neon sign, and leapt, straight over me, colliding with a shape in midair and both of them falling less than three feet from me with a jarring thud, squirts and puffs of fog evaporating. Hissing, tearing, bone- ripping sounds filled my head as I lunged away from this new madness. They rolled, the white streak bobbing, and an unutterably final crunching sound was followed by a hot black gush that splattered the trees in every direction. Sucker blood smoked where it landed, and some of it whizzed past my face, speckling my sweater and sending a stripe of thick warmth up the left leg of my jeans. I cried out, a small sound of disgust lost in the larger noise as the streak-headed wulfen threw back his head and growled, a shattering thunderous noise.

I was still trying to get away, scooting backward in wet jeans, the smoking vampire blood puffing into that same greasy mist once it had finished eating through denim. I was going so fast, in fact, that I ran smack into a tree for the first time that night. Which was pretty miraculous, you know, it being only the first time instead of the fourth or fifth.

A keg of dynamite went off inside my head, and my ribs screamed in pain. I was pretty much full of agony all over, and pretty goddamn sure I’d pulled something in my back again, too. God, if I lived to be an old lady I would probably have so many back problems, but it looked like I wouldn’t be around that long.

The streak-headed werwulf hitched himself up and jerked across the space between us. Furrows of dead wet leaves exploded up, and he dug his claws in and stopped, his snout in my face and his breath touching my wet skin. The fog retreated behind him, pulling back like singed fingers.

I let out another small sound, this one cut in half as my breath hitched, every aching muscle tensing in preparation. His breath chuffed in, chuffed out, and it smelled oddly like peppermint and copper.

His eyes were inches from mine, his longer, sleek nose almost touching the tip of my just-human one. A long, long inhale, and I leaned back into the trunk as far as I could. The gleam in his dark eyes was horribly human, and just as terribly hurt and insane. The white streak glowed at me, so bright I thought another random beam of moonlight had gotten caught in his fur.

He sniffed me again and made a low, painful sound. His mouth couldn’t shape a human word, so I had no idea what he was saying, whether he was threatening me or…

Or what? Why was he just crouching there, staring into my eyes? The tree behind me was an icy wall of rough steel, and my legs were still twitching, trying to push me right through it. The werwulf leaned forward again, making that queer, horrible noise, and I smelled hot copper.

Blood. Someone was bleeding. Was it me? Had I just not felt it when he clawed me open?

A rushing noise filled my head, and I heard the beat of muffle-feathered wings just before the werwulf dipped forward, his cold nose-tip pressing my cheek for a moment. Then he melted away.

He ran across the small clearing, hitching and favoring his front left paw-hand, and vanished into the trees just as I heard someone yelling my name.

“Dru! Dru! Goddamn you Dru where are you?” It was Graves, screaming-hoarse, and I was faintly surprised. I was even more surprised not to be dead. There was no fog now. The trees were silvered only by moonlight and festooning ice.

I sagged against the tree, vampire blood smoking all over my ruined, filthy clothes, and I did the single most inappropriate thing I could.

I began to laugh. High-pitched, whistling laughter as insane as the broken thing peering out through Ash’s eyes.

CHAPTER 10