“What’re you talking about?”
“They don’t use us for sex,” Meg lied. “Ever. It dilutes the accuracy of the prophecies. Being used that way can drop the accuracy of the prophecy by fifty percent for several days.”
“If you’re not seeing things right, it’s not because of me.” Cyrus stared at her. “You been doing the nasty with that Wolf?” He stepped closer. “Is that why you’ve been telling me stuff that’s wrong?”
“I don’t remember most of what I see, but I remember one thing, Cyrus Montgomery. The Crows are going to eat your eyes.”
Images collided for a moment, and she felt a blow before his hand connected with her face so that she was already turning and falling against the car.
She looked up and saw the freight truck. About half the size of a tractor-trailer, it could handle the roads that wound through the wild country to small human communities that needed supplies. It wasn’t a huge truck, but it was big enough.
The sharp look on the driver’s face. The warning blast of the horn.
Meg bolted in front of the truck and avoided being struck by a finger’s length. She ran across the road, ran across the grass verge, and disappeared into the trees, following the game trail she had seen in the visions. She ran hard—not play-prey pursued by friends who would gently bump her and lick her and laugh a little at the panting human. This time the predator was real.
She heard Cyrus shouting, swearing, searching. But she was short and wasn’t wearing bright clothes, and the game trail forked. She took the right-hand trail and kept running.
“You come back here, bitch! You come back right now or I will beat you black!”
After searching for several fruitless minutes, Cyrus scrambled back to the verge and crossed the road to the car. He didn’t have time for this shit. The truck hadn’t stopped after the bitch dashed across the road, but he’d had the impression that the driver was reaching for a radio or mobile phone, was going to tell someone about the car and the girl.
Had to move, had to get away from here. Just because the truck hadn’t stopped, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t pull in to the first place on the road where there were other people.
He’d backtrack; that’s what he’d do. That way he wouldn’t end up behind the truck and the man who had seen the bitch. Yeah, he’d backtrack, maybe stop at one of those little towns in the Finger Lakes long enough to pick up bleach or some other shit that would erase the blood in the trunk. Then even if the cops found him, what could they prove? He’d rented a car, all legal and aboveboard, and gone for a drive. He was heading back to Lakeside to return the car. What was all the fuss? They couldn’t prove the bitch had been with him. If she took off, what was that to him?
Jimmy turned the car around and headed back the way he’d come—and didn’t notice that the right rear tire was rapidly going soft.
“Simon!”
Turning at the sound of Greg O’Sullivan’s voice, Simon dropped the books he’d been moving off the display table in order to have something to do.
O’Sullivan burst into the front area of Howling Good Reads. “The car’s been spotted.”
Simon glanced at Vlad, who had been working behind the checkout counter, then focused on the ITF agent. “Meg?”
The ITF agent shook his head. “Not—” He pulled out his mobile phone and looked at the caller’s number. “It’s Burke. Yes, Captain? They were? Where?”
Simon moved closer to O’Sullivan, trying to hear.
“I’ll be ready.” O’Sullivan hung up. “A truck driver reported seeing a man and woman arguing by the side of the road. The woman’s general description matches Meg’s, and it was on the same road as the first report of the car. Police from the communities nearest to those locations are on the roads right now, searching for the car. Burke is picking me up. Lieutenant Montgomery and Officer Kowalski will be following in a second car. We’re heading for the last known location.” He hesitated. “The truck driver thought the woman ran into the woods. We can arrange for a couple of officers with search-and-rescue dogs to meet us there if you’d rather wait . . .”
“The Wolfgard can find Meg better than some dog,” Simon snarled.
O’Sullivan looked relieved, which made Simon feel more forgiving about his suggesting dogs in the first place.
“I’ll be ready when Burke gets here.” He rushed upstairs to the office, stripped, stuffed his clothes into a carry sack, then shifted. He dragged the carry sack to the stairs, then gave it a push so that it rolled to the landing. Another push landed the carry sack on the floor of the stock room.
O’Sullivan arrived at HGR’s back door carrying a daypack. “Water and food. The police already have first-aid kits in their vehicles.” He opened the back door just as Burke’s black sedan drove up the access way.
By the time they crossed the area behind the stores and reached the back of the Liaison’s Office, Burke had turned the car around. He stepped out of the car, opened the back door and the trunk, then held up one finger to indicate he would be a moment. He walked up the access way.
Simon eased into the back of the car, careful not to leap and smack his head on the doorframe. He dropped the carry sack with his clothes on the floor behind Burke’s seat, then stretched out on the backseat.
<Simon?> Blair called. <Nathan and I are going with you to find Meg. We’ll ride with Montgomery and Kowalski.>
<I’ll ride with Burke,> he replied. <There will be enough room in the back for me and Meg.>
His heart pounded. His body quivered with anxiety and anticipation.
The humans had found the car. The Wolfgard would find his Meg.
“So,” Burke said dryly, “instead of one Wolf to help us track, we have three?”
Monty nodded. “Blair and Nathan were scratching on the back doors as soon as Kowalski pulled into the delivery area. Don’t know what they know, except that the police found something and they’re coming with us.”
“They can track as well as the dogs,” O’Sullivan said. “And if we have to leave the road and the right-of-way area for any reason, the Wolves can smooth the way, right?”
“How much did you tell Simon?” Burke asked.
“That the car was spotted, giving us a starting point for the search,” O’Sullivan replied. “And the woman ran into the woods.”
Monty’s stomach churned. “You didn’t tell him about the blood the truck driver saw on her clothes?” Jimmy had cut Meg. Of course he had. He wouldn’t resist the chance to hear predictions about his future or how to acquire easy money. Wasn’t that the reason he’d taken her in the first place? He’d force her to help him avoid capture. So why had someone spotted the car this quickly? Was it a diversion?
“No reason to mention it yet,” Burke said, “or to tell any of the Wolves about Hope Wolfsong’s vision drawing.”
“Simon may think we’re being dishonest,” Monty said quietly.
“When Meg Corbyn was last seen, she was alive and well enough to run away from Cyrus,” Burke countered. “For now we stick with that. Besides, you’ve got two large Wolves filling up the backseat of that patrol car. Do you really want them more upset than they already are?”
Monty shook his head.
Burke waited a beat. “Lieutenant, I can assign someone else for this.”
“No, sir. I’m the leader of the team that deals with the Courtyard. So I’ll deal with this.”
Monty returned to the patrol car. As Kowalski pulled over to let Burke take the lead, Monty prayed to all the gods he could name that Jimmy hadn’t done any serious damage to Meg Corbyn. And if Jimmy had, he prayed that his brother would have sense enough to surrender so that he wouldn’t have to be the one to put a bullet between Jimmy’s eyes.