Werewolf Sings the Blues (24 page)

“HELP ME!” I shriek at the top of my lungs. “HELP! RAPE! RAPE!”

The men are so shocked at my disobedience we stop moving, giving me time to turn sideways and knee Seth in the groin. He releases me, and I make it two steps toward the bystanders before Mal with the gun lunges. Five years of cardio kickboxing training takes control. My foot pounds into his stomach with all my force as I roar. He folds in the middle as all the air is knocked from his lungs. The third stooge just gawks for a second at his doubled-over compatriots. They thought I'd make this easy for them. Morons. Unlike the Italian, I don't hesitate, I take off toward the hotel.

“Hey!” one of the people down the sidewalk calls.

I don't get far. The Italian catches up to me not ten feet from the hotel door. The fucker grabs my wrist, and spins me around into a bear hug not even a bear could survive. “Fight and I'll snap your goddamn neck,” the Italian stallion snarls.

“Let her go!” the Good Samaritan shouts, “or we're calling the police.”

The stallion's brown eyes are alight with fury and indecision. He's not used to making the calls. “Let her go,” Seth calls behind us. “We have to get out of here.”

Without hesitation, the Italian releases me and I back away, panting now I'm able to breathe again. My eyes jut to a snarling, seething Seth who stares me down with utter contempt. I mimic the gesture. “This isn't over, bitch. Tell your father I'm going to rip his spine out. I'm coming back for what's mine, and I plan to rain hell down on anyone who opposes me. Those already dead will be the lucky ones. You're going to be wishing I'd killed you tonight.”

“Come on, we gotta go,” faux hawk Mal says to his leader.

“And you're first, bitch!”

With one final snarl, Seth turns and sprints down the street with his pals a clip behind. I just watch, still panting like I'd just finished the Tour de France, as the threesome climb into a black van and tear out of the parking spot, then down the near empty street. Away. Jesus Christ. My legs finally buckle, and I collapse onto the sidewalk, staring down that road.

Jesus Christ. Can't a girl just enjoy a drink around here?

_____

“Really, I'm okay. Stop mother-henning me. I'm fine.”

Mona stares down at me, lips pursed with disapproval, but she does back away. She's been fussing over me since she found me outside trying to convince the Good Samaritans not to phone the police. I am still a fugitive after all. They listened to Mona more than me. Despite three shots of tequila, she took charge like a pro, convincing the couple we'd phone the police from her hotel room before ushering me up here. Without another word, the witch sat me down on the bed, poured black salt along the door, then phoned Frank. She just gave him the broad strokes, where we were, then hung up to check on me. For what just happened, I'm oddly calm. No more shaking or trouble breathing. I just sit calmly on the edge of the bed, sip the water Mona got me, and wait for the cavalry. Think the tequila's doing its job, otherwise I'd probably be a mess.

My new friend sits beside me, pulling up the blanket she insisted I drape around my shoulders. “You're not freezing or—”

“I'm not in shock, no. I swear to you, I'm fine,” I assure her. “I didn't have to kill anyone, I didn't have to dig a bullet out of someone's arm, there was no car chase. I've dealt with worse, but
I'm sorry I dragged you into this.”

“I'm sorry I wasn't around to help. Though it doesn't sound like you needed it.”

“I got lucky.” I scoff. “First time for everything, right?”

The knock on the door jolts us both an inch off the bed. My hand instinctively reaches for the gun by my side. “Mona?”

Oh, I've never been so happy to hear someone's voice. Mona rises to unlock and open the door. Frank sent the big guns. Jason steps in first, followed by Adam and Tate. All for little old me. I am in so much fucking trouble judging from the brutal scowl on Jason's face. That look is more deadly than an army of werewolves. “Mona,” Jason says, not removing his eyes from me, “could you please excuse us for a minute?”

“Yeah, you can help me check in. I'm your bodyguard for the rest
of the night,” Tate says with a gentle smile.

“Is that necessary?” Mona asks.

“Just a precaution,” Tate says, ushering her out.

Adam nods at me before following his brother out. He probably hates me right now for putting the love of his life in danger. I don't blame him. I blame me too. He shuts the door behind himself and I'm alone with the very person I was running away from.

“Are you—”

“3GK245, Maryland plates. The car was a black van, a newer model not more than five years old. Chevy I think, but that was definitely the plate number. The rat must have seen me sneak out because the other two wolves got here very soon after we did. I wasn't paying attention, but it could have been anyone in the hall or in the driveway when I was talking to Mona.”

“Vivian—” he begins, the scowl melting into impassivity.

I pull the blanket off my shoulders and manage to rise. “I'm an idiot. I know I'm an idiot. I put myself in danger, I put Mona in danger,
I know
. There is nothing you can say that will make me feel shittier than I already do. I just … I had to get out of that house. I took every precaution, but I fucked up anyway. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, and I will never,
ever
do it again. But at least we have a lead and no one was hurt. I'm just … sorry.”

Jason just stares at me, unreadable for a few seconds. The silence around us is palpable, deafening even. “Jason, just fucking say som—”

He takes two strides toward me before enveloping me in his arms and hugging tight. I'm too shocked at first to move, but that's over in a millisecond before I embrace him back. I melt into him, into his scent, into his heat and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. I—

Over too soon. He pulls away, mask back on and eyes down to the blue carpet. “Adam will drive you back to the house. You are not to leave it again. I know you won't. Thank you … for your
leads. I'll follow them up.” He nods before spinning on his heel and
stalking out, not even bothering to close the door.

What the … ? I don't think I'll ever understand that man.

Adam steps into the doorway, usually cheerful face as stony as Jason's. I did almost get his mate killed. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. After I stick the gun back in my purse, I follow Adam out into the hallway. We walk shoulder to shoulder, both staring straight ahead. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well … I'm sure you'll make it up to us.”

And I will.

fifteen

“
…
gave proof through the night,

that our flag was still there.

Oh, say does that Star-Spangled Banner

Yet wave. O'er the land of the free,

And the home of the brave?”

Our audience applauds as
the children take their bows with wide, well-deserved grins on their faces. Whew, pulled that one out of my hat well. A day of practice, most can't read the lyrics I printed out for them, and half couldn't keep still in rehearsal. It took every ounce of my patience, including the little I keep in reserve, not to scream at them every five minutes. Glad I had only decided on the one song. The munchkins didn't let me down. I shouldn't have doubted them.

“Happy Independence Day everyone,” I say with smile affixed. I glance at Jason, who is making a rare appearance today for the picnic. He keeps his eyes to the ground as he claps. “Let freedom ring.”

Three days. It's been three days since my jailbreak and three
days until my birthday. Not a word, not a look. The only time I even
laid eyes on him was last night from my bedroom window as he dropped Omar off before driving away again. Scuttlebutt is he's been following leads on Seth acquired from Donovan's computer and my keen observation skills. Of course I know this is crap because Devin told me there was nothing but work files on it, not a single e-mail even, and the van hasn't been found or its owner. Guess Frank had to tell them something. There are further rumors that Jason is investigating missing persons, that Seth's building his ranks with new “recruits” like van owner Malcolm Jaffe. Okay, Adam told me point blank there's been the odd wolf sighting, a missing man near Gettysburg, then more reports of strapping young men disappearing around the area as well. Sounds like Seth's getting desperate. I knew that when I looked in his eyes. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

Regardless, the natives, me included, are growing restless. Katie, Mac's mother, even admitted to me that her husband Reid is planning on leaving after the full moon extravaganza tonight. He's a hair's breadth away from getting fired from his project manager's job in D.C. He's not the only one, and if he starts a precedent, there could be a mass exodus. Whatever Jason's up to all day and night out there in the world, he better do it quick.

The good news is that I've been too tired, busy, then tired again to obsess over him too much. Only every other minute as opposed to every single one. I thought working two jobs plus auditions was exhausting. It's got nothing on being responsible for ten children and four teenagers. At least Troy takes the job seriously now. After he lost Mason for hours during the scavenger hunt, I threatened to chop off his balls complete with snipping motion. He shaped up. Me too. All in, me. Penance paid one runny nose wiped or temper tantrum quashed at a time. I've barely had the energy to take an always cold shower, werewolves love hot water, before crashing into bed around ten. But I'm shocked how much I'm enjoying myself. Playing with them, talking to the kids, I haven't had so much fun in years. I'm like the fucking kid whisperer.

“Thank you children,” Frank says as he strolls up the stone steps. “Vivian.” My mouth twitches into a cordial smile before the children and I join the others on the lawn. Devin, Linda, Claire, Maureen, and the children all greet me with proud smiles, which I return. Adam, who stands in the back with Jason and Tate, gives a reverent nod. He earns a smile too. His best friend keeps his head down. None for him then.

“I just want to say a few words,” Frank begins, “before we all enjoy this wonderful feast you all worked to put together.” He pauses for effect. “It's been a hard time for us all, without ques
tion. We've lost members of our family. We've lost our sense of
security. We've lost … our innocence. I know you're afraid. Frustrated. Angry. I know you all could let these feelings overwhelm you. Have you make rash decisions. Take it out on each other. Give up even. But … you haven't. As I look across to all your faces, I see no despair. No hatred. Only strength. Love. What could have broken us apart has brought us closer together.”

He is very good at this. Even I'm getting fired up.

“They may try to tear us apart. They may try to beat us until we can't get up. But I believe with my whole heart there is not a one of you who will not rise. Who will not continue fighting until
their dying breath, not just for
yourself. But for the people
beside you. We are pack. We are
family
.” He looks square into my eyes and smiles. “And I am so very proud of you all.”

I think I blush.

“To the pack!” Tate calls, holding up his red cup.

“To the pack!” we all say.

“Then let's stuff our faces and enjoy this beautiful Fourth of July afternoon!” Frank says.

Shante, Percy or “Pookie's” mate, switches on the stereo. Bruce Springsteen starts playing. Can't go wrong with The Boss. Everyone moves toward the tables setup on the lawn so we can all eat together with two smaller tables off to the side for the kids.

The majority of tents have been taken down for tonight's event. We're gonna have a full house. Anyone not turning furry when the full moon rises has to be inside. Linda and the kids are graciously letting me spend the night in their room as I had to give up mine. They're so excited, Nicki even offered to let me sleep with Mr. Sprinkles, her stuffed Panda. Almost took her up on it. Haven't been sleeping well.

Frank sits smack dab in the middle of the table much like Jesus in The Last Supper. People swarm around him, with Jason and Tate edging out the competition for the coveted seats to his left and right. I get as close to Jason as possible, four down, across from Linda and Reid. I wait to serve myself as I've learned never to get between werewolves and munchies. They're like piranha, only more frenzied and with sharper teeth.

“Pass this down to Vivi,” I hear Frank say.

A second later Maureen hands me a paper plate with a veggie burger. “Thank you.”

“You did an amazing job with the children and that song,” she says. “We're so lucky to have a professional singer in the house.”

“So glamorous,” Linda adds. “Frank once showed us a video of you singing in this club. You were so good.”

“Yes, a smart man once told me I'm downright haunting,” I say,
glancing at Jason, who even now keeps his head down to avoid people's gazes. He does steal a glance at me, but only for an instant. He's listening.

“We should organize a concert one night,” Maureen suggests. “Tate plays the guitar.”

“I play piano,” Linda adds.

For some reason the thought of singing in front of them awakens my nerves. “I don't—”

“Frank!” Maureen shouts. My father turns from Tate to his mother.
“Your daughter's agreed to perform at a concert for us. Isn't that wonderful?”

“It is. I can't wait.”

“We'll see,” I say. I bite my burger and decide to change the sub
ject. “So, full moon tonight. Should be interesting. Do you all look forward to it or …”

“Hell no,” Reid says, scratching his balding head.

“Do you run around? Hunt deer or something?”

“Pretty much,” Reid answers.

“It's great to be pack,” Pookie adds. “We're lucky. I'm just glad we ain't gotta be caged tonight.”

“I'm not,” Katie, Reid's wife says. “There are a million windows and doors downstairs. What's to stop one of you from breaking in?”

“It's never happened before tonight,” Maureen answers. “Besides we have magical wards all over the house. Nothing with intent to harm can come in as long as they're up.”

“But how do we know they work?” Katie asks.

That is an excellent question, but I don't want to add fuel to the paranoia fire. “From what I understand, the witch who put them up is the most powerful in America.” And is outstanding in a crisis, even shitfaced. “She's gotta be good, right? Plus I've seen one work. Mason was chasing Aiden after a fight, Aiden ran inside and Mason couldn't get through the door,” I lie. “See? They work. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh,” Katie says with an unconvincing smile. “Good.”

“And Jason and I have already discussed offensive and defensive strategies,” I lie again. “We've got all the angles covered. Isn't that right, Jason?” I shout.

Frank and Jason's gazes whip my way. “What?” Jason asks.

“The plan for tonight. I was just telling everyone how worried you were about all of us alone in the house tonight, so you spent hours thinking up every worst-case scenario and its solution.” I turn back to Katie. “He really is a brilliant strategist.”

“We'll get into all of that later,” Frank says. “It's well in hand.”

“We'll just look after one another. We'll be fine,” I say with a reassuring smile. Katie and a few eavesdroppers grin back.

When I turn straight ahead, I notice Frank and Jason staring. Frank gives me a reverent nod, and Jason's mouth jolts in a quick smile before his eyes dip down again. Once again, in spite of myself, a swell of pride rises. I am definitely getting addicted to them as well.

Jason lasts longer than I thought he would, almost ten minutes before whispering to Frank and rising from the table. Katie regales me with stories of finding the right tutor for Mac, not easy apparently, as he excuses himself. I wait two minutes before claiming a headache, not a total lie, and following his example. I've been waiting three days for this face-to-face with him. Time's up, Blondie.

Of course he seems to have slipped through my fingers again. A quick sweep of the downstairs proves fruitless. Excedrin before continuing, I think. That and I've sweated off my deodorant. Not good, especially in a white sundress. I'm freshening up in my bathroom when I hear a creak like an old door opening, then heavy footsteps in the bedroom. I step out to investigate, but instead of finding one of my cute little shadows per usual, to my great pleasure I find my prey has come to me, through a secret passage no less. Jason glances from the closing panel in the wall with a rusty metal door behind it. I'm the one who should be surprised, but his mouth drops open when he sets eyes on me.

“Hi,” I say with a wide grin. “Didn't mean to scare you.”

“You didn't. I just—”

“Didn't know I was inside the house,” I finish, leaning against the doorframe. “Needed Excedrin. Is that a real secret passageway?”

“Yes. Dad was going to show it to you after lunch. I was just changing—”

“Well, show it to me now,” I say, walking over. “One less thing for him to worry about.”

“Um, okay.” He takes a step to the left. Away from me. “Press the panel. Hard.”

I do. After a click, the wall moves back, then forward a centimeter. I pull it open all the way to reveal the metal door with a keypad beside it. “What's the code?”

“0707, then press pound.”

“My birthday,” I say as I punch it in.

“I know.”

The light flips from red to green as I hear the lock disengage. I open the door, finding a very narrow, dark, stone spiral staircase. I'm not a big person by any means, but I don't think even I could fit in there comfortably. “Where does it go?”

“Follow me.”

Crap. This place is a claustrophobic's worst nightmare. I have literally had a nightmare that contained this very scenario except those walls had rows of spikes that slowly closed and skewered me like a kebab. Yeah, I need a Xanax just looking at this. Jason has no such worries. He steps into the tomb, and my throat closes up again.
Show no weakness
. I swallow my fear and follow.

I was right. Jason has to turn sideways and duck to walk down, with me two steps behind. The door above closes automatically, and with only one working light bulb on the wall, I can barely see the steps. After three revolutions on the stairs we reach another door with keypad on this side. “That's Dad's office. I programmed the same code for all.” We don't linger. There are more stairs to descend. This tour better be close to over because I have about thirty seconds before I'm hyperventilating. My breath's shallow now and hands are clammy. Damn it, I swear these walls grow narrower by the step. They are. I know it. I dig my fingernails into my palm to concentrate on that.

We end the tour at a dark underground tunnel that resembles a mine shaft made of stone and mortar. Jason switches on the lights, but it doesn't help much as there's only a bulb every thirty feet or so. “The door behind you is to the basement.”

“Where's the tunnel, um, go?” I ask, voice quaking a little.

“Past the gate. It was built after Jeremiah Conlon turned and accidently ate his mate after he chased her down on the lawn.”

“Lovely.”

Jesus Christ, it smells like the musky earth in here, just like …
oh, fuck. With a blink, I'm transported back to that basement in Pennsylvania waiting to die in a fucking cage about as big as this tunnel. There isn't a millimeter of me not taught and ready to strike from fear. I bunch my dress up with my sweaty hands.

“Most people know this is here, but I just altered the codes. We'll tell everyone right before the change to avoid the mole leaking it.”

“Great. Let's go.”

“I need to show you … are you unwell?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

“Fine. Excuse me,” I say breathlessly. I twirl from the shaft to the metal door, push in the code with my shaking finger, and rush through the millisecond it opens. No salvation here. I step into a concrete room with several cages like the one that held me with a narrow passage between them. Even the odor's the same: salt, blood, urine, and antiseptic that fails to mask the others. I don't know if it's the stench or the playback of my death match, complete with stinging pain shooting through my still-healing gun wound, but bile rises.