“That’s not always the kind of place you want to be at night.”
He was right, of course. It looked innocent enough—a narrow strip of park with a line of swings and slides, a big plastic play center at the end—but between the equipment and the trees were a lot of shadows. After dark, when the kiddies had gone home, it made the perfect place for bigger, more dangerous kids to hang out.
Derek scanned the park as he sampled the breeze.
“Empty,” he said finally. “Let’s go.”
We jogged across the road. Out in the open now, the wind got even worse, swirling around us, bitter cold. The swings twisted and creaked. As we passed, a sudden gust sent one slamming into my shoulder. I stumbled back with a yelp and caught a mouthful of sand, whirling up from the ground. As I sputtered, Derek’s head shot up. I spit out the sand and turned to him. He’d gone still, face lifted.
“What do you smell?” I asked.
“I’m not sure…I thought I—” The wind changed and his nostrils flared. His eyes went wide. “Run!”
He gave me a shove and I broke into a sprint. In the last few days, I’d done this “running from danger” stuff often enough that my brain kicked my legs into high gear automatically, my aching feet forgotten.
Derek stayed behind me, footsteps pounding.
“Chloe!” he yelled as a figure stepped into my path.
Derek grabbed me by my shoulders, my feet flying off the ground before I’d even stopped running. He backed us up against the plastic play set. A man was sauntering our way. Another walked from the other direction. Two escape routes, both blocked. Derek glanced up at the play set, but we were against a solid wall of plastic, a crow’s nest ten feet overhead. There was a fireman’s pole ten feet away, but that wouldn’t take us anywhere useful.
The men looked like they were in their twenties. One was tall and lean with blond hair to his collar. He wore a plaid jacket and boots, and looked like he hadn’t bothered with a razor in days. His companion was shorter and beefier, swarthy with dark hair. He wore a leather jacket and sneakers.
Neither looked like the kind of guy you’d expect to hang out in a park, hassling kids for cigarettes and pocket money. Hanging out at the monster truck races, maybe, hassling girls for their names and phone numbers.
They didn’t seem drunk either. They were walking straight and their eyes looked clear, glittering in the dark like…
I shrank back.
Derek’s hands tightened on my shoulders and he leaned down, whispering, “Werewolves.”
Thirty-four
THE TWO WEREWOLVES STOPPED a few yards away from us.
“We’re just passing through,” Derek said, voice steady. “If this is your territory—”
The blond one cut him off with a laugh. “Our territory? Did you hear that, Ramon? He’s asking if this is our territory.”
“I know you’re werewolves and I know—”
“Werewolves?” Ramon drawled. “Did he say werewolves?”
The blond lifted a finger to his lips in an exaggerated “shhh!” and jerked his head at me.
“She knows,” Derek said.
“Tsk-tsk. That’s against the rules, pup. You don’t go telling your girlfriends what you are, even the cute ones. Didn’t your daddy teach you better than that? Who is your daddy, by the way?”
Derek said nothing.
“He’s a Cain,” Ramon said.
“Think so?” The blond squinted, his head tilting. “Guess he could be.”
“If you’d met more than one, Liam, you wouldn’t be questioning. That”—he pointed at Derek—“is a Cain. Three things every Cain has in common. Big as a house. Ugly as a mud fence. Dumb as a brick.”
“Then he’s not—” I began before Derek shushed me.
Liam stepped closer. “Did you say something, cutie?”
“We’re just passing through,” Derek said. “If this is your territory, then I apologize—”
“Hear that, Ramon? He apologizes.” Liam took another step closer. “You have no idea whose territory you’re on, do you?”
“No, I don’t know you. If I should, then—”
“This is Pack territory.”
Derek shook his head. “No, the Pack is in Syracuse—”
“You think they claim one city?” Ramon said. “Their territory is New York state.”
“You do know what the Pack does to trespassers, don’t you, pup?” Liam said. “Your daddy must have shown you the pictures.”
Derek said nothing.
“The pictures?” Liam pressed. “Of the last guy who trespassed on Pack territory?”
Still Derek said nothing.
“Your daddy didn’t like you much, did he? ’Cause if he did, he would have shown you those pictures, so you didn’t make the mistake you’re making right now. The last time a mutt got too close to Pack turf, they carved him up with a chain saw. Then they took photos, and they passed them out as a warning to the rest of us.”
My stomach lurched. I squeezed my eyes shut until the image passed. They were just making this up to scare us…and it was working—at least on me. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure they could hear it. Derek squeezed my shoulder, his thumb rubbing, telling me to stay calm.
“No, I haven’t seen them. But thanks for the warning. I’ll—”
“Who is your daddy?” Ramon asked. “Zachary Cain? You’re darker, but you’ve got his look. You’re about the right age, too. And that might explain why he didn’t raise you right.”
“Him being dead and all,” Liam said. “But if it was Zack, then you should know to keep off Pack territory.”
“Should I?” Derek said, his voice emotionless.
“Don’t you know how your daddy died? Dumb ass decided to join an uprising against the Pack, got himself caught. Tortured to death, right up there in Syracuse.” He looked at Ramon. “Think they used the chain saw?”
Derek cut in, “If the Pack’s so bad, why are you on their territory?”
“Maybe we’re Pack.”
“Then you wouldn’t be talking like you were, saying ‘their’ territory, what ‘they’ do.”
Liam laughed. “Check this out. A Cain with brains. Must come from your momma.”
“Do you want to know why we’re here?” Ramon said. “A mission of mercy, and we’re the ones praying for mercy. See, we hooked up with this kid from down under last year. We quickly found out why he’d left home.”
“Man-eater,” Liam said.
“M-man-eater?” I didn’t mean to say it aloud, but it slipped out.
“It’s a disgusting habit. Now hunting humans? Killing them?” He smiled. “That’s always good sport. But eating? Not my style. Well, unless you count that time in Mexico—”
Derek cut him off. “So if you’re allowed on Pack territory, I’m sure they won’t bother me. I’m not causing trouble.”
“Can I finish my story?” Ramon said. “So this Aussie, he’s not very discreet about his bad habit. The Pack catches wind of it. Next thing you know, all three of us are on their hit list.”
“The Aussie dude goes to ground,” Liam said, “leaving me and Ramon holding the bag. The Pack doesn’t care if we’re man-eaters or not. We’ve had some run-ins with them before so, as far as they’re concerned, we’ve used up our free swings. Batter out. They already caught up with Ramon once. Luckily, he got away. Or most of him.”
Ramon pulled up his shirt. His side was pitted and puckered with healing scar tissue, the kind of thing I’d only seen in SFX demonstrations.
“So now you’re heading up to Syracuse to talk to the Pack,” I said. “Set them straight.”
“That’s right. Or that was the plan. But it’s Russian roulette, see? We throw ourselves at their mercy, and we might never stand up again. Then we caught an amazing break.”
He looked at Ramon, who nodded. For a moment, neither said a word. Liam stood there, a smirk playing on his lips, as he dragged it out.