I opened my mouth to protest, but then shut it. Robert was still out there. So were Leo, Ron, Lonna and Gabriel. I may not be able to count on them to defend me, but it was a chance I had to take.
As if reading my thoughts, Peter smiled. “And if you think one of those mutt-men may come to your rescue, don’t worry.” He held out his hand and showed me what he held in his palm—silver bullets.
Chapter Nineteen
Our shoes made tracks in the dew on the grass, which was frosted by the gray early morning sunlight. The air smelled sharp, the chill settling into my skin. A mist rose from the ground and wreathed the trees in otherworldly fog, their branches held high in warning or fear at the creatures who roamed among their roots under the moon.
I paused. The light hadn’t made it into the woods yet, and shadows still twisted and undulated in the fog. I reminded myself the most lethal shadow walked behind me, his footprints in mine, his hand on the gun he held in the pocket of his navy jacket.
I found one of the deer paths my grandfather and I had explored when I was a child. When I stepped on the crunching rocks, the image of the trail came to my mind, and I walked forward with confidence. The path toward the river was gentler from this side of the mountain. The ground leveled off, although it still sloped toward the riverbank. I could hear the water, its soothing gurgle audible but faintly muted in the morning mist. The vapor hung heavily here, and I had to tread slowly so as not to lose the path or my footing, for as we got closer to the river, the rocky path turned to dirt, then to slippery mud.
“How much farther?” Peter hissed, his voice coming through the fog from somewhere behind me.
“Not too long,” I told him and wondered if I could make a run for it at this point.
“Don’t even think of trying to run,” he whispered after me. “I can still see you.”
Damn. I grabbed a tree trunk to keep from sliding the last few feet to the riverbank and thought I heard a twig snap nearby, but I couldn’t be sure. I moved away from the tree, and Peter came after me. He seemed to not be in danger of losing his footing, although his hiking boots were caked with mud.
“What now?”
I held my hand up, listening, but the noise of the rushing water filled my ears. “Follow me.”
We headed upstream, and I saw our footprints from the night before, mine and Iain’s, then Simon’s. Surely whoever was in the cave must have seen them, for there were more prints beside them, adult-sized boots and small paw prints. My heart skipped a beat, then rage welled up. They were using the children to hunt us! And I thought it had just been Robert. I worried for Iain’s safety, but there was nothing to be done for it now. He’d just have to take care of himself. As for Leo, I hoped he’d gotten the boy—and himself—somewhere secure.
We came to the fork in the river.
“All you have to do is follow that branch to the canyon,” I said.
“All we have to do,” he corrected me. “And how do we get across?”
“Carefully.” The footprints on the bank led us to a crossing point, a series of stones in the water. We stepped from rock to rock. I planted my feet and tried not to look at the water rushing between the current stone and my next target. That’s how it went: plant, shift, stretch, plant again. I thought about making a run for it when I got to the bank on the other side, but a look back told me Peter still had control of his weapon in spite of his slippery passage. I didn’t want him to shoot me or warn anyone who might be near of our presence.
I stopped and listened again but didn’t hear anything aside from the water and the usual early morning noises of the forest. We followed the footsteps away from the main river and down the smaller stream. The mist hung here too, but not nearly as heavily. I stopped a few times, sure I’d heard the snap of a twig or the slow breathing of something watching us from the forest, but every time I stopped, so did the sound.
A rustling in the branches startled me, and I halted. Peter stumbled into me, and for a moment I felt the hard rim of the weapon in his pocket through the material of his jacket.
“Stop doing that,” he hissed in my ear.
“We’re being watched.”
He drew his weapon and leveled it at me. With his thumb, he clicked the safety catch off. “Keep going.”
“Don’t you hear it? We’re being followed.”
“That’s why I have the silver bullets. Keep going.”
I shoved my hands in my pocket to warm my chilled fingers. The terrain to either side of the bank grew rockier, and instead of looking up through tree trunks, I instead found myself walking through the eroded lip of the canyon. Small, scrubby bushes and vines clung to the sides, and time seemed to turn back to the end of night before full sunrise. I could barely see in front of me as we entered the gloom.
“Where’s the cave?” I had been so intent on keeping my feet dry on the narrow path by the river I hadn’t heard Peter close the distance between us. “It should be in here somewhere.”
“Did you bring a flashlight?” he asked.
“No. We came from your house, remember?”
“Here.” He passed a small ultralight flashlight into my hand, and I used it to illuminate our way. Above us, I could see blue sky, but the walls of the canyon cast deep shadows.
The river’s noise filled the ravine, and if something was following us, I couldn’t hear it. I felt naked and exposed with the light, but there was nothing I could do. I only hoped whoever guarded the laboratory hadn’t seen us.
“Over there.” Peter gestured to the end of the canyon, where the river disappeared into the walls, and a jagged gash swallowed the light as well as the water. “Shine your light in there.”
“Are you crazy?” I whispered. “You may as well shoot the damn gun and alert all of them.”
He didn’t have time to argue. We heard a low growl just behind us, and he swung around. I switched the light off, shoved it in my pocket, and ran toward the gash. A gunshot ricocheted off the walls. I hit the ground and covered my head just as a large, furry body crashed into me. We tumbled around, me struggling, and it snapping and snarling at my throat. Then my head hit a rock, and just before I blacked out, I heard a man scream in terror.
I came to with a pounding headache and with my wrists tied in front of me. I lay on my side on a sandy surface with hard rock underneath. Peter’s mini flashlight dug into my ribs, and I rolled on to my back. I found the sore spot where I’d hit my head and couldn’t suppress a groan.
“Doctor Fisher?” The accent and the voice were familiar, albeit a little hoarse.
“Gabriel?”
“Aye.”
“Is it her? Is she all right?” This voice, older, familiar, one I never thought I’d hear again.
“Grandfather?”
“Are you okay, Joanna? Did they hurt you?”
“I don’t know yet.” I rolled on to my side again, then sat up on my knees and rubbed my head, checking for injuries. I found a huge knot that made me see stars when I touched it.
“I’m a little shaken up, that’s all.” My left wrist throbbed, and I could feel it swollen against the binds. “I’m tied up.”
“We all are.” This voice, rueful, was Lonna’s.
“What happened to you?” I asked. “We went to get clothes, and you were gone.”
“She remembers nothing,” Gabriel said. “It’s not uncommon after the first change. You wake up, usually naked and sometimes in a compromising position, and ask yourself what the hell happened.”
“Yeah, like your first time getting smashed at a frat party,” Lonna added. I was relieved to hear the usual hint of humor in her voice.