Deadtown

I needed to get home, but first I wanted to see the scene where I’d shifted. If I was incredibly lucky, I’d find some piece of clothing that hadn’t shredded when I’d changed. If I was incredibly unlucky, I’d come across a police crime scene, complete with a chalk outline of that thug’s body.

But my luck was middle of the road tonight. When I got to the place where those three guys had jumped me, there was nothing—barely a sign they’d ever been there. Some skid marks, a bloodstain in the road (not too large, I noted), and a couple of tatters of leather. At least there was no chalk outline, no police tape. That was something, anyway. I picked up a strip of black leather and rubbed it against my cheek. Damn. Those had been my favorite jeans.

If the cops had been here, collecting evidence, they’d have picked up these scraps of leather, right? The thought made me feel a little better. Then another thought struck me like a blow to the head: They’d have picked up my paranormal ID, too. They’d know exactly who had attacked that norm. I scouted around but couldn’t find the card anywhere. Maybe the energy-field blast of the shift had shredded it, along with my clothes. God, I hoped so.

There was nothing else left. The only thing I could do was go home—a two-and-a-half-mile hike. I jogged down the middle of deserted D Street, trying not to notice the feel of slimy plastic sliding and sticking against my skin. And the smell—God. If anything, it got worse. Demons stink, but I’d never smelled anything like the odor of garbage mingled with sweat that currently surrounded me like a cloud of flies.

As I approached a cross street, a car slowed and started to turn toward me. When the headlights swept across me, the car stopped, then turned and skidded away in the opposite direction. Apparently, the driver wasn’t impressed by my fashion choices tonight.

But the encounter made me realize that I needed to be more careful. If someone was looking for me—the cops or maybe those thugs, back for a second round—I was making it way too easy for them. I ducked into the shadow of a building. As I made my way back to Deadtown, I chose backstreets and alleyways, staying close against buildings, darting across intersections only when the coast was clear. I ran from shadow to shadow, exactly like some kind of monster trying to stay out of sight of the humans.

BY THE TIME I KNOCKED ON MY FRONT DOOR, I WAS ready to call it a night. Without my ID, I’d had to sneak back into Deadtown—not impossible, but tricky. And then . . . It’s not easy looking like a freak on a street full of zombies, but tonight I’d managed to accomplish just that. Zombies pointed, laughed, crossed the street to get out of sniffing range. Even Clyde couldn’t keep a poker face as I stomped through the lobby. No “Good evening, Miss Vaughn”—it was more like

“Oh, my lord, what on earth have you done now?” And I heard snickering, definite snickering, as I waited for the elevator. Clyde could just kiss his Halloween bonus good-bye.

I was in a foul mood, not least of which because I couldn’t call it a night. I still had to go to Lucado’s condo and watch for Difethwr. The way I was feeling right now, if that Hellion showed up tonight, it wouldn’t stand a chance.

“What in the name of Hades is that horrible smell?” Juliet said as she opened the door. When she saw me, her jaw dropped so far I could see past her fangs all the way to her tonsils. “Are you wearing a garbage bag?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“How did you—?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it. All I want right now is to stand under an industrial-strength, boiling-hot shower until my fingertips wrinkle up like prunes. Then I’ve got to try to sort out the mess my life has become.”

I flounced past her with all the dignity I could muster—which was slightly less than zero, given the circumstances. I went into the bathroom and closed the door. Then, remembering how Kane had barged in earlier, I clicked the lock. I turned on the hot tap full blast and peeled off that damn trash bag. Steam billowed in hot, delicious puffs from the shower stall as I crumpled up my never-again gown, lifted the lid to the trash can, and slam dunked the bag, letting the lid bang shut. I took a deep breath, then sniffed, and sniffed again. I could still smell it. Then I realized the smell was coming from me. The stench of garbage had sunk into my pores. I jumped into the shower and started soaping up. I lathered and scrubbed, lathered and scrubbed, lathered and scrubbed, until the bar of deodorant soap I’d started with dissolved into a tiny sliver.

It felt good to put on real clothes—a scoop-neck yellow cashmere sweater and black jeans—even if the leather of the jeans was kind of stiff. They were a new pair; it’d take a while to break them in. Zipping up my black ankle boots, I felt like a whole new person.

I grabbed a spare apartment key out of my dresser and stuck my driver’s license in my pocket—that would get me through the checkpoints until I could replace my paranormal ID card. Then I went into the living room, where Juliet sat watching the local news. “Any good murders today?” I asked, trying to sound casual. To anyone else, it would have seemed an odd question. But like most vampires, Juliet enjoyed hearing the gory details of a murder. Preferably one with lots of blood.

She shook her head. “Nothing interesting.”

Well, that was a relief. Unless some norm being mauled to death by a panther in the middle of South Boston didn’t count as interesting to a vampire.

The sports anchor was listing high school football scores. Juliet tore her gaze away from the TV and regarded me.

“Going out?”

“To Commodore Wharf. I’ve got a job for the next few nights.” I had to get over there fast. It was past eleven—I was already over four hours late. I had a feeling that, sooner or later, Difethwr would show up again. I said a silent prayer that it hadn’t shown up already.

Juliet’s eyes rounded. “You shifted tonight! That’s why you—you know.”

“Disappeared for twelve hours and came home without my clothes? Gee, when I say it like that, it sounds like I should’ve had a hell of a lot more fun than I did. Yeah, I shifted into a panther. Some guys jumped me, and I lost control while I was fighting them off.”

“So that’s why you asked about murder.” She grinned and clapped her hands in delight. “You killed someone, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t? Wow. Must’ve been some shift.”

“I mauled one of the thugs. If I didn’t kill him, the only reason was because I heard sirens coming.” My fingers twitched involuntarily, remembering how it felt to sink my claws into his skin. I’d wanted so much to lap up his blood, to tear chunks of meat from his bones and swallow them whole. And it wasn’t morals or compassion or any of that good, reasoning human stuff that had stopped me. It was fear. The sound of a siren had alerted the panther’s instinct for danger. If I hadn’t heard it, I’d have eaten that thug.

What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never lost control like that before. Was it because the shift was so close to the full moon? Or, with the Destroyer in town, was the Hellion’s essence taking over?

No. It couldn’t be that. I wouldn’t let it.

But what if I couldn’t stop it?

I shuddered and blinked. Juliet looked at me expectantly. “Sorry,” I said. “Did you say something?”

“I was wondering about the men who attacked you. They were norms?”

I nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”

“How many?”

“Three. With ski masks and a black van.”

“But why? Who would want to kidnap you?”

I frowned. I’d been thinking about that, too. And the only answer I could come up with was the worst possible one, the one I didn’t want to be true. I couldn’t even state my theory; I had to make it a question. “Do you . . . uh . . . do you think Kane could do something like that?” I tried to swallow the basketball-sized lump that materialized in my throat. “To me?”

Juliet tilted her head, thinking, which meant she didn’t consider it a stupid question. I kind of wished she did.