Awakening (18 page)

T
HE 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.

“The break?” I asked finally, knowing Derek wouldn’t.

“I had to take a piss. About two miles north of here. Pulled off the highway, got out of the car, and guess what I smelled.”

“Me,” Derek said.

“The answer to our prayers. A Cain?” Liam shook his head. “What did we do to get so lucky? The Pack hates Cains. Bunch of Neanderthals too stupid to keep out of trouble. If we hand them you, tell them
you
were the one snacking on humans…”

I felt Derek shift behind me.

“Thinking of leaving, pup? That would be rude. You bolt, we’ll have to grab your girl, hold on to her until you decide to come back and hear me out.”

Derek went still, but I could feel his heart thumping against my back, hear his shallow breaths as he struggled to stay calm. My hand slid into my pocket, grasping my knife. Derek squeezed my shoulder, rubbing it again.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.” But his heart kept pounding, telling me it wasn’t.

“Sure,” Liam said. “It’ll be just fine. The Pack aren’t complete monsters. This poor orphaned kid just screwed up. He’ll never do it again. They’ll understand. He’s probably got a—” He glanced at Ramon. “Fifty-fifty?”

Ramon considered it, then nodded.

Liam turned back to us. “Fifty-fifty chance of surviving. And even if he doesn’t, they’ll make it quick. No chain saws for you.”

“Why are you telling us this?” I asked. It was like the classic James Bond scene, where the villain explains what he’ll do to Bond, giving him time to think up an escape plan. Which I really hoped Derek was doing. I might not be much help—not when it came to plotting against werewolves—but I was really good at stalling.

“Good question, cutie. Why not just grab him, tie him up, toss him in our truck, and deliver him to the wolves up in Syracuse? Because the Alpha isn’t stupid. If we throw him a kid who’s screaming he didn’t do it, he might listen. See, there’s only one way this can work. If your boyfriend comes along voluntarily and confesses.”

Derek snorted. “Yeah.”

“You don’t like that plan?”

Derek shot him a look.

Liam sighed. “All right then. Option two it is. We kill you and have some fun with your girl.”

“I’ll do the killing,” Ramon said. “You can take the girl. She’s a little young for me.”

Liam grinned. “I like them young.”

His gaze traveled up and down me, his look making every hair on my body rise. Derek’s hands vise gripped my shoulders.

“Leave her out of this,” Derek rumbled.

“Never.” Liam bared his teeth. “I was almost hoping you’d say no. Sure, I’d love a scapegoat to feed the Pack. But a little cutie like that, who already knows what I am? That’s…” He smiled. “Sweet.”

He gave me a look that made me shrink back into Derek, my hand gripping the knife so hard it hurt. When Liam stepped forward again, Derek’s arm shot around me, a growl vibrating up from his stomach.

Liam put his hand out toward me. When Derek tensed, he pulled back, then did it again, testing his reaction, laughing when he got one, until even Ramon started to laugh.

“Check this out,” Liam said. “I think the pup’s got himself a mate. Isn’t that the cutest thing?” He leaned toward Derek, voice lowering. “It won’t work out. It never does. Why don’t you just give her to me now, let me help you get over it. Painful, but quick. It’s the best way.”

Derek moved me behind him. The werewolves let out a howl of laughter.

“I think he’s saying no,” Ramon said.

“Leave her out of this,” Derek said.

Liam shook his head. “How can I do that? Look at her. So tiny and cute, big blue eyes all wide and scared.” He leaned around Derek to look at me. “That hair doesn’t do anything for her. I can still smell the dye. What color is it really? Blond, I bet. She looks like a blond.”

His look made my insides twist.

“If I go with you, she walks away,” Derek said. “Right?”

“No,”
I whispered.

“Course she does,” Liam said.

“Derek,”
I whispered.

He put his hand behind him, gesturing for me to be quiet. It was a trick. He had a plan. He must have a plan.

“Here’s the deal,” Derek said.

“Deal?” Liam laughed. “This isn’t up for negotiation, pup.”

“It is if you want my cooperation. I’ll go with you, but the first thing we do is get her on a bus. After I’ve seen her leave safely, I’m all yours.”

“Uh-huh.” Liam rolled back on his heels. “Is your intelligence feeling a mite insulted, Ramon?”

“Sure is.” Ramon strolled up beside his friend.

“You said you’d release her—”

“And we will. Once you’ve done your part. Until then, she’s our collateral to make sure you do. And don’t worry; we’ll take good care—”

Derek shot forward so fast it caught them both off guard. He grabbed Liam by the front of his shirt and whipped him into Ramon. The men went down.

“Run,” Derek said.

I pulled out my knife.

“Run!”

He gave me a shove that sent me flying. I started running, but slowly, my hand on the knife as I watched over my shoulder, getting far enough so Derek would think I was safe without abandoning him.

Derek caught Ramon and whipped him against the steel fireman’s pole, his head hitting with a twang.

Liam lunged for Derek. He feinted out of the way. As Ramon lay motionless on the ground, Derek and Liam faced off, circling. Liam lunged again, and Derek twisted, but Liam caught the back of his sweatshirt, yanked him off his feet, and threw him.

Derek hit the ground in a slide. Liam bore down on him, taking his time as Derek struggled to get up, wheezing and coughing, crawling along the ground. I veered to race back. Then Derek shot to his feet and broke into a run.

W
E ZIGZAGGED THROUGH A dark commercial district, with Liam at our heels the whole way. When we reached a town house complex, he fell back, like he didn’t want to be seen chasing a couple of kids. He kept about fifty feet behind us, clearly planning to close the gap when we got to a more secluded place.

On the far side of the complex was a strip mall. When we reached it, we looked back, and he was gone. We kept going, though, until we were another two blocks away, behind a closed bakery.

I leaned against the cool brick wall, gasping for air.

“You wanted tips on self-defense?” Derek said, breathing hard.

I nodded.

“The first lesson our dad taught us? If you’re up against a better fighter, the first chance you get, surprise him with your secret move…” He leaned down to my ear. “Run like hell.”

A laugh bubbled up and my teeth stopped chattering. I took a deep breath and let myself relax against the wall.

“So he was as strong as you are?” I asked.

“Whatever those scientists tweaked, it wasn’t my strength. He might have been smaller than me, but he was just as strong, and he’s got a lot more fighting experience. I was seriously outclassed.” He wiped off gravel embedded in his chin. “You aren’t the only one who’s going to need training. My dad taught me to use my strength to my advantage. Only that doesn’t work fighting other werewolves.”

He rolled his shoulders, then pushed sweat-sodden hair out of his eyes. “We’ll catch our breath, but then we need to move. Once he figures out he lost us, he’ll go back and pick up our trail.”

“I’m good,” I said, straightening. “Any time you want to go—”

Something moved above our heads. I looked up as Liam leaped from the rooftop. He landed on his feet right behind Derek.

“Your boy’s not quite ready to leave, cutie. He has some business to finish first.”

Liam hit Derek with an uppercut that sent him reeling, blood spraying from his mouth. I fumbled for my knife, but it caught in the folds of my pocket. By the time I had it out, Derek had hit Liam back and now they were both on the ground, rolling, each trying to get a grip on the other.

How many movie fight scenes had I seen? I’d even written a few. But being there, watching it, with someone I knew in serious danger, made those movie fights seem like they’d been filmed in slow motion. This was a whirlwind of fists and feet and grunts and gasps and blood. Mostly what I saw was the blood, flying, spattering, dripping, as I darted back and forth, knife in my hand.

I thought of all the times I’d been in an audience, snarking about the stupid, useless girl hovering on the sidelines of a fight, holding a weapon but doing nothing, watching the guy get pummeled. I knew I had to help Derek. I knew he was in trouble, that most of that blood and those gasps and grunts were his. I wasn’t afraid to use the knife. I
wanted
to use it. But there wasn’t a chance. The fists flew and the bodies flew and the kicks flew, and every time I thought I had an opening, I’d dash forward only to find Derek in my path, not Liam, and I’d pull up fast before stabbing
him
.

Then Liam got Derek on his knees, in a headlock, his free hand in Derek’s hair. He yanked Derek’s head back, and I saw the girl at the truck stop, her throat slashed, and I didn’t stop to think whether I could do it, I ran at Liam and I drove the knife into the back of his thigh, ramming it in to the hilt.

Liam let out a howl and backhanded me. I sailed into the air, knife still clutched in my hand. I heard Derek shout my name as I hit the wall. My head cracked back against the brick. The floodlights overhead exploded into shards of light.

Derek grabbed me before I hit the ground.

“I-I’m fine,” I said, pushing him away.

I got my footing, wobbled, and found it again.

“I’m fine,” I said, stronger now.

I looked around. My knife had fallen beside me. I scooped it up.

Liam lay behind Derek, writhing on the ground, snarling as he tried to stanch the blood. We took off.

This time no one was chasing us, but it didn’t matter. We kept running, knowing Liam would come after us the moment he was able.

“We need to get you to a bathroom,” Derek said as we rounded a building.

“Me? I’m—”

“We
need
to get you to a bathroom.”

I closed my mouth. Derek was obviously in shock and
he
did need a bathroom, to clean up and check the damage.

“He’s going to follow our trail,” I said. “We have to trick him.”

“I know. I’m thinking.”

I was, too, recalling every fugitive movie I’d ever seen where someone evaded tracking dogs. I slowed when I saw a huge puddle from the rain and a trash-clogged gutter. The water stretched at least ten feet across. Then, I had a better idea.

“Climb on the curb and walk along the edge,” I said.

“What?”

“Just do it.”

We jogged along the curb until I saw a door to a small apartment building. I led Derek over and pulled on the knob. It was locked.

“Can you break it?” I asked.

He wiped off his bloody hands, then grabbed the knob. I tried to get a better look at him to see how badly he’d been beaten, but it was too dark, and I could see only smears of blood everywhere—on his face, his hands, his sweatshirt.

He yanked the door open. We went inside, circled around a bit, then came back out.

“Now we’ll follow the path we came on,” I said. “Along the top of the curb. Backtrack.”

When we reached the puddle, I stopped. “We’re going to cut through.”

Derek nodded. “So he’ll reach this, keep following our trail and think we’re somewhere in that apartment, not realizing we doubled back on our tracks. Smart.”

Wading ankle deep through frigid water seemed to knock away the last of Derek’s shock. Once we reached the other side, he took over and got us downwind so Liam couldn’t smell us. Then he hustled me into a coffee shop. There were only a handful of people inside, all clustered at the counter, chatting with the server. No one even looked up as we made a beeline for the bathroom.

Derek scooted me into the men’s room and locked the door. He hoisted me onto the counter before I could protest, then scrubbed his hands well, sleeves pushed to his elbows, like he was preparing for surgery.

“Uh, Derek…?”

He wet a paper towel, and took my chin, lifting and wiping my face.

“Derek? I’m not hurt.”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“But it’s not mine. Honest. It’s from—”

“The werewolf. I know.” He picked up my hand and started cleaning it. “That’s why I have to get it off.”

“Derek?” I leaned down, trying to see his face. “Are you okay?”

He kept scrubbing. “There are two ways to become a werewolf. Either you’re born one or you get bitten by one. If you get the saliva in your bloodstream, it’s like a virus.”

“Blood, too?”

“Dad says no, it’s just saliva. But he could be wrong, and you’ve got cuts and scrapes and blood all over.”

I had a
few
cuts and scrapes, and I was only flecked with blood, but I kept my mouth shut and let him clean.

As he did, I tried to check out how badly
he
was hurt. His scraped cheeks were pitted with gravel. His nose was bloodied. Broken? One eye was already darkening. Was that blood in the corner? His lip was cut and swollen. Were any teeth loose? Missing?

“Stop fidgeting, Chloe.”

I couldn’t help it. His injuries obviously needed more attention than mine, but there was no sense saying anything until he was done.

Finally, when he seemed to have scrubbed off every fleck of blood—and a few layers of skin—I said, “Okay, now on to you.”

“Take off your jacket and sweatshirt.”

“Derek, I’m
clean
. Trust me, I’ve never been this clean.”

“You’ve got blood on your cuffs.”

As I took off the jacket, the zipper snagged my necklace.

“It’s caught—” I began.

Derek gave the jacket a tug…and the chain snapped, the pendant dropping. He swore and grabbed it before it hit the floor.

“—on my necklace.”

He swore some more, then said, “I’m sorry.”

“The girl in the alley grabbed it,” I lied. “The clasp was probably weak. No biggie.”

He looked down at the pendant in his hand. “Wasn’t this red before?”

I hadn’t taken a good look at it for a couple of days—no mirrors and the pendant had been under my shirt. I’d thought the color seemed different before, but it had changed even more now, almost blue.

“I—I think it’s some kind of talisman,” I said. “My mom gave it to me, to ward off bogeymen—ghosts, I guess.”

“Huh.” He stared at it, then shook his head and handed it back. “Better keep it on you then.”

I stuffed it into my pocket, down at the bottom where it would be safe. Then I took off my sweatshirt and pushed up my sleeves. No blood had seeped through, but he still made me wash my forearms.

“Okay,
now
can we take care of the guy who was actually
in
the fight? There’s a lot of blood. It seems to be mostly from your nose.”

“It is.”

“You got hit in the chest a few times. How are your ribs?”

“Maybe bruised. Nothing critical.”

“Shirt off.”

He sighed, like now
I
was the one fussing too much.

“If you want me to leave, so you can look after it yourself…”

“Nah.”

He pulled off his sweatshirt and folded it on the counter. There wasn’t any blood below his collar, where it had dripped from his nose and lip. I guess that’s to be expected when you’re fighting with fists, not weapons. He said his ribs on the right were sore to the touch but, to be honest, I wouldn’t know bruised from broken. He was breathing fine, and that was the main thing.

“Okay, your nose. Is it broken? Does it hurt?”

“Even if it was broken, there’s nothing you can do.”

“Let me check your eyes.”

He grumbled, but didn’t resist. The bloodshot corner was already clearing, and I couldn’t see any cuts. He’d have a shiner, though. When I told him that, he just grunted. I wet a fresh paper towel.

“You have dirt in your cheek. Let me—”

“No.”

He caught my hand before I could touch his face. He took the cloth and leaned over the counter to wipe the dirt out himself. I tried not to wince as I watched. The gravel had gouged his cheek badly.

“You’re going to need to get that checked out.”

“Yeah.” He looked at himself in the mirror, his expression unreadable, until he noticed me watching, then turned away and stepped back from the mirror. I handed him another wet paper towel and he cleaned his neck and collar, freckled with dried blood.

“Still got that deodorant?” he asked.

I retrieved it from my jacket pocket and set it on the counter. He kept washing.

“In the playground,” I said, “when you were negotiating, you weren’t serious, right? About going with them? It was a trick.”

Silence stretched for way too long.

“Derek?”

He didn’t look up, just reached over and got a fresh towel, his gaze averted.

“Did you hear
anything
they said?” I asked.

“About what?” His gaze still on the towel, he folded it carefully before throwing it into the trash. “Hunting humans for sport? Eating them?” The bitterness in his voice cut through me. “Yeah, I caught that part.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

He lifted his eyes, gaze shuttered. “No?”

“Not unless being a werewolf transforms you into a wolf
and
a redneck moron.”

He shrugged and ripped off more paper towels.

“Do you want to hunt humans, Derek?”

“No.”

“Do you think about it?”

“No.”

“How about eating them? Do you think about that?”

He shot me a look of disgust. “Of course not.”

“Do you even dream about killing people?”

He shook his head. “Just deer, rabbits.” When I frowned, he went on. “For the last few years I’ve been dreaming of being a wolf. Running in the forest. Hunting deer and rabbits.”

“Right. Like a
wolf
, not a man-eating monster.”

He wet the paper towel.

“So why would you ever let these guys take you to—” I stopped. “The Pack. Is that what you wanted? Tell them you’ll go, and after they release me, tell the Pack the truth and use that as a…an introduction? Meet them? Be with your own kind?”

“No. That doesn’t matter to me. Dad says it does to other werewolves. It mattered to the other boys—they hated anyone who wasn’t one of us. Me? I don’t care. The only reason I’d want to meet a werewolf would be the same reason you’d want to meet a necromancer. To talk, get tips, training, whatever. Preferably from one who doesn’t think hunting humans makes good sport.”

“Like this Pack. They kill man-eaters and they don’t seem that thrilled about man hunters. Is that what you thought? You could go to them and they’d help you? When I asked if you were listening to those two goons, that’s the part I meant—about the Pack. What they’d do to you. Killing werewolves with chain saws and stuff.”

Derek snorted.

“You don’t believe it, then.” I relaxed, nodding. “No one would do that. Cut someone up with a chain saw and pass around photos? Those guys were just trying to scare you.”

“No, I’m sure there are photos. And I’m sure those guys
believe
the Pack carved up someone. But the photos must be fakes. You can do that kind of stuff with special effects and makeup, can’t you?”

“Sure, but why?”

“For the same reason you just said. To scare people. Liam and Ramon think the Pack really did it, so they steer clear of its territory. Doesn’t seem like a bad idea to me.”

“But would you ever think of it yourself?”

That look of disgust returned. “Of course not.”

“But you considered entrusting your life to people who would? Werewolves who play judge and jury for their own kind? Torture and kill other werewolves? Knowing that, you’d go to them, pretend you killed humans, and hope they’d go easy on you because you’re a kid? Or were those odds okay with you? If they decided you didn’t deserve to live, maybe they’d be right?”