This was business.
So how come my heart was pounding so hard as I listened to the phone ring?
“Costello.”
Business, I reminded myself, and put on my professional voice. “This is Vicky Vaughn. I got a message saying that you wanted me to call.”
“Vicky.” There was a smile in his voice. “Thanks for calling back.”
The warmth in his voice flowed through the phone and spread down to my toes. Could Juliet be right? And if she was, how did I feel about that? Thank goodness blushing doesn’t show up over the phone. “My roommate said you called about the witches. Did you meet with them?”
“No, your timing is perfect. I’ve set up a meeting at three. I want you to be there with me.”
Not just be there. Be there
He gave a soft laugh. “Officially, no. But you know more about demons than anyone in Boston. I’m worried that I won’t ask the right questions if I go on my own.” He paused, and I remembered how he’d paused last night and looked at me with those blue eyes. “Please say yes.”
“Yes.” The word flew out of my mouth. “I mean—”
“Great. Meet me at the station at quarter to three. I really appreciate this, Vicky. Really.”
When I hung up the phone, butterflies were dancing all over the room.
FIFTY MINUTES AND TWO BUS TRANSFERS LATER, I STOOD on a deserted street scratching my head. Somehow, I’d gotten Mrs. Williams’s address wrong. According to the address in my hand, the derelict warehouse in front of me should be Mrs. Williams’s apartment. The building was clearly abandoned. Shattered windows gaped like eyeless sockets, and at one point the roof had caved in. At street level, signs proclaiming DANGER! and KEEP OUT! were plastered across the walls and doors as high as the workers had been able to reach. Across the street was a closed autobody shop, and next to that stood a triple-decker apartment building with boarded-up windows and graffiti scrawled all over.
Not a single little old lady in sight.
Now what? I didn’t carry a cell phone—I’d lost too many—so I looked around for a pay phone. No luck, of course. Who used pay phones anymore, besides me? Over toward the waterfront, I could see a crane swinging slowly, a huge container dangling from its cable. There’d be people over there. Maybe somebody would let me borrow a cell phone or at least point me toward a pay phone. Poor Mrs. Williams. I pictured her sitting in a rocking chair, trying to relax but wringing her lace-trimmed handkerchief and looking anxiously out the window, waiting for a demon slayer who wasn’t appearing.
So I’d head toward the pier, using the crane as my guide. I’d taken about three steps when I heard an engine rev, hard. Tires screamed. A black van shot around the corner and bumped up onto the sidewalk, screeching to a stop in front of me. The side panel jerked open, and two big men in ski masks jumped out. They charged right at me, but somehow I didn’t think they’d stopped to ask directions. I braced for a fight.
The first one ran at me, opening his arms like he wanted to give me a bear hug. I slammed both hands into his wide-open chest and shoved. He flew backward and crashed into the side of the van, denting it. I heard a crack as his head hit. Then he slithered down the van and sat lopsided on the ground.
I spun to locate the second one. He jumped back as I turned. Behind the mask, his eyes were wide, like he couldn’t believe I’d hit his buddy that hard. He jogged from side to side like a prizefighter, watching me, and when I swung at him he grabbed my arm and spun me around, twisting my arm behind my back. Pain shot down from my shoulder and lit up the demon mark like a bonfire. I screamed with anger—this one was going to be sorry he’d messed with me. But the way my arm was twisted, I couldn’t wrench it free. He got his other arm around my neck and tried to drag me toward the van. No way was I getting in there. Using my free hand, I gripped the arm that held my neck, finding and squeezing the wrist. At the same time, I kicked backward. My heel met only air.
“Let go of me now,” I said, my voice a choked half-whisper, “or I’ll crush every bone in your wrist.”
He tightened his hold on my neck, cutting off my air. Panic hit. I couldn’t get a breath. I stopped squeezing his wrist and clawed at his arm. “Hey!” he yelled toward the van. “I need some help over here. Ken’s knocked out, and I can’t hold this wildcat and stick her at the same time.”
The driver’s door flew open and a third man got out. He also wore a mask. If I hadn’t been choking to death, I’d have made some comment about how Halloween was still two days away. But blackness was closing in on my peripheral vision, and bright spots swirled before my eyes like sun sparkles on a lake. A lake that was drowning me.
The thug from the van advanced, holding something. A needle. I
The moment I made the sound, I could feel the shift begin.
It started in my fingers and toes, as my nails lengthened, hardened, honed themselves into sharp points. That sent ripples of energy charging up my arms and legs, like a flash fire across a wheat field. My limbs contracted, coiled, then reformed in a new shape. The muscles in my chest, my back, and my thighs bunched and thickened; black fur sprang up along my arms. For an agonizing moment, it felt like my head was being crushed in a vise, but then the skull gave and adjusted. I blinked. The colors around me had changed. Sounds, distant and impossibly high-pitched, pricked my ears.
And then the smells. The world reshaped itself into smells. Too many at first; too powerful. Confusing. Oil, burning, metal, ocean, sweat. One smell, sharp and salty with a metallic tang, rose up. Fear. Delicious. My limbs tensed with desire. I growled low in my throat.
There. The source of that mouthwatering fear smell. A human. Or some creature like a human. It had something over its face, but I could see its eyes. Wide, white with fear. A creature paralyzed by fear is such easy prey. I growled again.
Hungry. When you’re hungry, nothing smells better than terror.
I licked my lips. Teeth sharp and strong under my tongue. I laid back my ears, tensed my limbs. Claws eager to pierce flesh. Ready to spring.
“Jesus God!” screamed the prey. And then it ran.
I leaped, claws out. I landed on its back, felt skin give way as claws sank in, gripped. The prey went down. Blood flowed, that metallic-sweet scent. I went for the throat. The prey’s arm got in the way, and my teeth sank into a bicep, tore. More blood scent. I growled, lunged again, claws holding firm. My teeth grazed skin. I couldn’t get at the throat.
A sound behind. I swiveled my ears back. Too late. Something slammed into my haunch. A blast of pain, like a tree had fallen on me. I snarled, jumped, spun. Another human. It stood two leaps away, holding a club. The club was in both hands, lifted above its head.
It shouted: “Get away, you damn monster!”
I growled, ears back. Tensed to spring.
Another sound, from the west. I swiveled an ear. Shrill, piercing. Getting louder. I sniffed, but I couldn’t smell the source. Looked back at the human. Hungry. Smells of blood and fear so strong.
Still, though, that sound. It bothered me. Something told me:
I leaped over the human that should’ve been my meat. It was on its back. As I jumped, the human shouted. A sting on my leg, like a wasp. But danger was coming. I ran, hard. As hard as I could. Away from these humans. Away from the danger sound.
I ran down the street, around a corner. Behind a building. Hard ground under my paws. High, I should get up high. But there were no trees.
Something was wrong. My legs felt heavy. My head felt heavy, too. Slow. I felt slow. Still no trees. I crawled
