“Oh, right,” I say, now wanting to speed this theft up.
The laundry room door creaks open and we slip inside the tiny room barely large enough to contain both of us at the same time. Isaac pulls open the dryer and a mound of clothes tumble round and round before coming to a full stop. A few pieces of clothing fall out and onto the floor. We both crouch low and start sifting through the items, which I’m glad are fully dry already.
Isaac jerks out a pair of tan slacks and holds them up, but he doesn’t examine them long before he’s slipping his naked legs down into them.
“Hurry up,” he says, motioning toward the dryer.
Gah! It’s mostly old lady clothes! One by one I pull out something hideous and flowery, not to mention oversized by at least two sizes. Holy shit, is that a
moo-moo
? Embarrassed to even be holding something so un-sexy in front of Isaac, I shove it deep into the dryer.
“Someone’s here,” Isaac says peeking around the door. “Hurry up!”
My heart beats even faster now and the nervousness is starting to make me a little nauseous. I’m not sure which scares me more: getting caught stealing someone’s laundry, or getting caught butt-naked stealing someone’s laundry.
“Adria,” Isaac says from above, still watching from the door, “this isn’t a fashion show. Doesn’t matter what it looks like, just grab something, quick.”
Without thinking about it, I reach inside and yank out whatever my hand touches first, hoping like hell it’s not the moo-moo.
A cream-colored granny slip-gown. Great. Just great. It’s almost as bad as the moo-moo, but Isaac’s right, there’s no time to be picky.
I practically throw the gown over my body and feel how it literally engulfs me, falling past my hips and stopping just above my ankles.
Isaac glances back at me. “Damn, you’re sexy,” he says, trying to hold in the laughter.
I glare at him, letting him know I won’t forget that and he’ll be paying for it later.
As we go to leave, the back door opens up onto the deck and an old lady with bluish-purple hair steps out, looking right at us. I sort of freeze and so does Isaac.
“What—Hey! What are you doing with my clothes?” The woman’s eyes dart around the deck and then she waddles quickly over to the mop and takes it into her hand.
“Time to go,” Isaac says, dragging me along.
We take off running across the yard and back toward the forest.
“Stop! Bring those back! I’m calling the police!”
I can hear the old woman trying to run after us, but she gives up and stops once we dart into the cover of the trees.
I’m laughing manically. I can’t help it, but that kind of rush does weird things to a person.
We run a good distance through the forest and I realize that I should be out of breath by now. I should be sweating, or feeling something to indicate I’m overworking my body, but minutes later and I still feel the same as I did before I started running. Finally, we come to a stop near another makeshift trail that looks to lead right toward a highway; the sound of cars passing over an exit bridge seems closer. And with my keener sight I can see a set of railroad tracks far out ahead.
“Never thought I’d be the one to figure it out first,” I say, holding the thin fabric of the ugly gown at my back hoping to make it look tighter around my form.
Isaac looks at me curiously and I just grin.
“Werewolves have been the cause of missing clothes on laundry day all this time,” I say. “All of those frickin’ socks!” I shake my head.
Isaac rolls his eyes and laughs under his breath.
“I don’t think socks are going to help cover much,” he says, “so I doubt that explains the Great Sock Disappearances.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, cocking my head to one side. “I take it you’ve never seen a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert before then?”
“Can’t say that I have,” he says, and judging by the grin, he’s fully aware of the sock-wearing-capade I’m referring to.
We leave the path and make it to the railroad tracks. The highway stretches southeast out ahead and it’s obvious we’re closer to a town by all of the houses, churches and various other sorts of buildings I see just past the highway. Cars buzz by every few seconds.
“We can’t walk two more hours back to Hallowell dressed like this,” I say, looking down at myself. “Well,
you
could get away with it, but me…not so much.”
Isaac is still trying so hard to hold back his laughter, but he might as well let it all out and get it over with because he couldn’t be any more obvious, really. And he does look hot, even wearing some old guy’s khaki slacks. They fit him perfectly and rest at just the right measure down low on his hips, revealing the sculpted curvature of his waistline, six-pack abs and bellybutton where a little happy trail hides below the top button.
But me, on the other hand, I am about as mortified and embarrassed as I’ve ever been dressed in this gown and looking like I just spent a rough night in the woods.
“You stay here,” he says and instantly my brows crease with objection, “and I’ll go over to that gas station and call Nathan to come pick us up.”
An hour and a half later, Nathan is pulling up along the side of the road and we’re hopping in the back seat of his FJ Cruiser. Harry is with him, as I had a feeling he might be.
“Damn, girl,” Nathan says after turning around in the front seat to see me sitting in the middle next to Isaac. “Not even you can do
that
gown justice.”
“Shut up, Nathan,” I say, gently hitting the back of his seat.
Nathan grins back at Isaac. “We were starting to get worried, bro.” He puts the Cruiser in gear and we pull away.
“That’s an understatement,” Harry says from the front passenger’s seat. “How did she get out, anyway?”
Isaac sighs heavily next to me and I feel his arm tighten around my waist.
“She just did,” Isaac answers and I can hear the irritation in his voice.
Harry was sort of overprotective of me even long before he found out that he’s a Praverian and that I’m his Charge. But now, ever since he went through his Becoming not even a month ago and everything was revealed to him, that overprotectiveness has definitely gone up a few notches.
“You all know I’m sitting right here, right?” I say. “How did I get out—you’re talking about it like I’m an animal or something.”
All three of them look right at me with grins and raised brows—Nathan from the rear-view mirror—and I shrink back into the seat. An animal. Of course. Talk about sticking my foot in my mouth.
Oh my God…I’m an animal. I’m a
werewolf
. It’s already my second time shifting, but I think I still have a long way to go before all of this will completely sink in.
Isaac pulls me closer. “How do you feel?” he says, and I can sense the gentle smile in his voice because he knows I must feel fantastic.
I tilt my head to see his eyes. “I feel…powerful.” It seemed a little weird to say that word, almost as if it were ridiculous, but it’s absolutely true. I feel like I can do anything: scale a high wall with ease, rip a phone book in half with my bare hands. I feel like I can fight anyone with no fear, but instead with complete and total confidence that I will win…well, humans anyway. I’m nowhere near confident when it comes to other werewolves. But I’m not the slightest bit afraid of the prospect. And that in itself is amazing to me.
Fear. That’s it…I have absolutely no fear. None….
“Powerful
and
crafty,” Harry says with a little playful mockery in his tone. “It’s only her second time and already she’s outwitting the Alpha boyfriend.”
I notice Isaac’s eyes narrow and I squeeze his hand, looking up at him with eyes that say,
Baby, it’s just Harry. What do you expect?
He smiles faintly back at me, knowing I’m right.
“While we’re all alone,” Nathan says, “we need to get this whole thing about who Adria can talk to straightened out before we get back.”
“Yeah,” Harry says, “they’re all starting to talk—most of them aren’t buying the story about how Adria just needs time alone to deal with her new existence.”
“Rachel, for example,” Nathan says, “is coming up with all kinds of crazy stuff.”
“Like
what
?” I say, raising up and holding onto the back of his and Harry’s seats.
I hate Rachel. The feeling has always been mutual, but before, back when I was just a ‘weak, ghastly freak of a girl with a fantasy’ (that’s what Rachel called me the day I caught her with her tongue in Isaac’s mouth), I couldn’t say anything because she might try to kill me. Now that I’m on her level, I can defend myself and I’m looking forward to it.
You know what they say about paybacks.
“Something about you getting knocked up,” Nathan says and he’s grinning hugely in the mirror at me.
“But the main rumor,” Nathan adds, “is that the Blood Bond is still making you loco.” He swirls his finger around the side of his head in a circular motion.
“Let’s not elaborate on the details of Rachel’s rumors,” Isaac says next to me, already sensing the anger it’s causing me and the inevitable retribution.
“No, I want to hear this,” I say, leaning up between the front seats even farther. “What has she said, Nathan?”
He glances back at me once before putting his eyes back on the road.
“It’s just Rachel,” he says, “and they’re just rumors—don’t stoop to her level on account of childish rumors.”
“Oh, but they’re not childish,” I say, “and you know it. Harry just said that most of them don’t believe our excuse anymore. This could cause problems.”
I feel Isaac’s hand rubbing my back, trying to soothe me and it’s working. He switches from his palm to his fingertips and chills attack my body all over.
“Let them believe what they want,” Isaac says, now moving his fingers to the back of my neck and I practically wilt.
“I agree,” Harry says. “This could buy us some more time.”
“But I can block my thoughts,” I say, though my tone isn’t as abrasive as it was seconds ago.
“Yeah, doll, you can,” Nathan says, “but you’re still new and it might be easy for a Praverian to penetrate your thoughts regardless of how strong your mind wall is.”
“Well then let’s put it to the test,” I say, rising up fully again.
Isaac’s hand stops in the center of my back.
I look over at Harry. “Try it. Read my mind.”
Harry just looks at me for a brief moment, shrugs and then gets down to business. I actually feel his mind trying to penetrate mine and it’s very different from another werewolf. A wave of heat energy begins at the top of my head and spreads down the back of my neck leaving my skin feeling warm and tingly. My right eye begins to twitch, but I manage to calm it only to have all of my focus concentrating on a tiny growing spot of painful cold in the very center of my forehead. The spot begins to spread outward and my vision doubles, but I still manage to hold Harry’s intrusion back. I’m struggling, but the longer I hold it, the less I feel Harry’s power and eventually it fades away completely. When I feel my mind is light again, I release my focus and just stare at him, hoping he won’t tell me that he still got in regardless of my efforts.
I look at him, waiting impatiently.
“
Well
?” I urge when he doesn’t answer fast enough.
“You have a strong wall,” Harry finally says and then he puts his back against the door of the Cruiser so he can see Isaac sitting behind him. “I couldn’t get in.”
Isaac nods absently a few times as if in deep thought.
“I’m not saying that I should go back to being the social butterfly,” I say, “but I think getting back to some normalcy is better at hiding our secret than keeping me away from everyone and giving anyone reason to wonder what’s really going on.”
“She’s right,” Nathan says. He pulls onto an entrance ramp and the Cruiser speeds up as we hit the freeway. “But you have to be careful,” he adds looking at me through the mirror again.
I rest my back against the seat and snuggle up closely to Isaac.
“I know,” I say, “and I will.”
“So…any clues as to who might be the traitor?” I say.
Harry turns around to face the front again, but it seems more out of disappointment than for comfort. “Nothing,” he admits. “So far, everybody checks out. I haven’t stopped invading their minds since this all started and still nothing.”
Isaac reaches over and pulls my legs onto his lap and I curl up even closer to him, resting my head in the wedge of his arm.
“But this situation is a lot different than the one with Genna,” Harry goes on. “Genna was hiding her presence from everyone. The traitor I doubt is doing the same thing because Adria would probably have seen him or her, too. This person is right out in the open and considering the fact that there are no humans in your house,” he looks over at Nathan briefly, “I think it’s safe to say that the traitor is a werewolf.”
“Wait,” I say, “you mean like an actual werewolf? No illusions or anything like that?”
Harry leans slightly around the seat to see me and he nods. “Yep,” he says. “Our bodies are human; we can still become what you become. Being what we are doesn’t make us immune to anything but disease and old age.”
Nathan laughs. “Apparently, you’re not immune to old age, either—who do you feed on anyway, Harry?”
“That’s a good question,” Isaac says.
I just look back at Harry without verbally adding my own obvious interest in his answer.
“I go to the hospital,” Harry says and then looks right at me and adds, “And the nursing homes—you’d be surprised how many elderly people are willing to let us drain them.”
I shudder at the thought of it and then I say, “You
tell
them?”
“Sometimes,” he says with a slight shrug, “can’t hide from them because they’re already so near death and I personally don’t want to lie to them and tell them I’m an angel—most of them think that at first.”
But then Harry cuts the conversation off abruptly and I get the feeling it was bothering him a little.
Harry goes back to the important matter, “But since disease and old age are also two things that werewolves are immune to, if one of us were to become werewolf, we wouldn’t need to feed as often to stay young.”