“Get some rest,” I said. “In case we have to go running again.”
“I want to be awake. When the next thing happens, I don’t want to be asleep.”
Yeah. I got that.
“Jeffrey?” Conrad craned his neck, looking for the psychic, wincing as he jostled his leg.
Jeffrey came over. He didn’t look any better than the rest of us. A beard had started growing, his hair was shaggy and uncombed, and his face was pale. Jeffrey was one of the most upbeat people I knew. I’d never seen him so grim. He didn’t even speak, just waited for Conrad to continue.
“Jeffrey,” he said, full of emotion. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t believe. I want—can I talk to Natalie? I want to talk to her. Can you help me?”
Jeffrey smiled, though sadly. “Just talk to her, Conrad. She’ll hear. She’s always heard you.”
“And my kids. If anything happens to me, I’ll still be able to see them, I can talk to them—will you help me talk to them? I just want them to know—”
“Don’t think about it,” Jeffrey said. “It’s not worth thinking about.” He went back to the window, staying at the edge, sneaking careful looks out. He was tense, arms crossed, jaw set. I wanted to hug him. Like that would help.
Conrad settled back on the sofa, staring miserably into space.
I went to find something to eat. Drank a cup of flat soda and a slice of bread and peanut butter that went down like sawdust.
“Tina, Grant, Kitty—” Jeffrey called. The others woke and sat up instantly; they may not have slept at all. “I saw something. They’re out there—one of them is, at least. In the trees there.”
“What do you see?” Grant said. He didn’t act injured at all, except that he kept his hands cradled in front of him, sheltered.
“I think it’s Provost.”
I thought for a minute. “You think we can catch him?”
Grant said, “Where’s the rifle?”
“We lost it with Lee,” I said, thinking I probably should have picked it up. I consoled myself by believing it had been damaged in the explosion. “Who has the handgun?”
Looking around, I found it on the kitchen counter. I grabbed it, checked the ammunition. Still full.
“Can you use it?” Tina said.
“I’d have to get out in the open—he’d get me before I got him,” I said.
Jeffrey said, “So that’s it? We’re talking about killing him?”
I said, “I think we’re firmly in them-or-us territory. As nice as it would be to see them convicted of murder, they’re not going to sit still for that.”
Jeffrey looked at Grant. When the psychic spoke, he sounded unhappy. Maybe he dealt with enough death that he didn’t want to go around causing it. “You have a spell for this? Maybe some of the hypnotism?”
“I’d need to use my hands,” Grant said, moving to the window. “Where?”
Jeffrey told him, describing the place at the edge of the clearing, near Valenti’s old spot.
“What is it you keep saying, Kitty?” the magician said. “Flush them out?”
“Who gets the short straw on that one?” I said.
“What if you went out the back? Then shifted to your wolf form and came at him from behind? He’s looking for people coming out the front.”
I had so many arguments against that plan. It was a horrible plan. As hyped up as I was at the moment, I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t turn wolf and head for the hills, never to be seen again. I might try to join that pack of wild wolves we’d run into. Then again, I was pissed off enough that I might be all too happy to go after Provost and tear him to shreds. But if I didn’t kill him, if he didn’t die—I never wanted to be responsible for infecting another person with this disease. Even someone like Provost. Especially someone like him. Homicidal bastard as werewolf? Bad scene, there.
“You’re not saying anything,” Grant said.
“I think you’re overestimating my ability to follow a plan once I shift.”
“What if you didn’t follow a plan? What if you just ran, got out of here, and went for help?” Jeffrey said. “Even if you didn’t remember what you were doing as a wolf, you’d remember when you woke up, right?”
“Assuming I didn’t run up against silver razor wire or get caught in another insane trap.” The whole lodge had become a trap, of course.
“I keep expecting them to attack the lodge,” Grant murmured. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.”
That, more than any other reason, was why we had to do something. If we didn’t, they would.
“I don’t have to be a wolf to flush him out,” I said. “But are we scaring him, catching him, or killing him?”
Nobody answered until Conrad said from the sofa, “Do we have a choice?”
I had killed to protect me and mine before. I could do it again. I drew the handgun from my pocket, checked the chamber and safety one more time. Loaded with silver bullets, of course, which made me twitch. But Provost and his party hadn’t brought along any other kind, apparently. I felt horribly ostentatious doing the checking—bad action-film girl, right here.
“Distract him,” I said. “Keep him looking out front. Make him think he can get a shot off.” Then I’d sneak up from behind. It was a Cormac-grade plan.
I left them and went to the back door. Quietly opened it. Didn’t make a sound. Stepped out.
And fell back as the wall beside me exploded. Another gunshot blasted as I slammed shut the door and hunched on the floor.
Grant, Tina, and Jeffrey came running.
“Cabe,” I said, picking myself up, checking myself over. Some scratches from flying splinters marked my arm, but I could handle that. Just as long as nothing silver touched me, I’d be fine.
Tina huffed, turning away in a show of frustration. “So they’re waiting us out.”
“We have to think of something,” Grant said. He started pacing, slow, moderate steps. He winced with pain.
Jeffrey was looking at the front door. “I want to try something. Kitty, can
