AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The smallest smile crossed my face at the thought of sharing my observation with him later.
Caelan flicked an ear back, regarded me over his shoulder through one unreadable eclipse of an eye, then took off at an easy, loping run. Easy for him: I struggled to find a pace that’d let me keep up and keep my flats. Gaining speed, he crossed an empty intersection, headed past a community garden and darkened tennis courts.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d run this hard.
I was winded, clutching my side (and thinking a wolf of his proportions had to be able to support a human on his back, asshole) when my foot slid through a puddle. I fell. My elbow hit the concrete, sending the gun clattering across the sidewalk.
Caelan had been more aware of my lagging than I gave him credit for; he was already circling back by the time I’d pushed myself up on stinging hands and knees and regained possession of the gun.
A flash of red caught my eye. Blood splattered my foot and ankle. Might’ve screamed at the sheer volume if I had any air left, until I realized it wasn’t mine.
The sheriff walked into the puddle, belly sprayed pink, paws dripping. He angled his head.
“Fine,” I panted.
He moved his shoulder against me. Glad for his stability, aware that on a night darker than mine Gram had once accepted a monstrous shoulder to lean on, I rested against the werewolf and let the night air steady my lungs.
We’d run through blood for a good quarter-mile. I’d been so focused on pushing my legs through the pain I hadn’t noticed more than the flat sheen of puddles, hadn’t considered the possibility anything but sprinklers or a passing shower had created them.
The lights went out and the visuals worsened in a northerly direction. Shattered glass. Porch rockers upturned. Cars dented and clawed. Tumbleweeds of hair and fur drifting the avenues. Splats of crimson underfoot, across the road, against homes, cars, flower beds, and the occasional child’s bike. Scattered limbs, fingers, torsos. Entrails strung around and around railings with ears and eyes pinned as ornaments. . .
Breath warmed the back of my neck. I stood on empty sidewalk, but nevertheless felt a claw caress the length of my spine. Marcy, dear…
I shivered. I took a step into the smear of an eyeball and my stomach threatened to toss the pizza.
Caelan nosed me in the direction of the truck.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, giving the wolf an awkward pat. “But I signed up for this. Let’s keep moving.” Yet I was plagued by an unshakeable dread that leaving his side meant joining another’s. Somewhere between me and the truck crouched a two-legged abomination waiting to wrap its inhuman fingers around my waist and crush its bloody mouth to mine.
Snout to the ground, the wolf wound through the fetid carnage, this time at my side.
Ahead, stood a pool complex. The surrounding fence had been smashed. In the water, a submerged minivan's hazards flashed orange. Caelan hopped the mangled chain link while I shuffled over a lower section.
Chlorine was a potent relief from the stench of death, but the cheerful blue water had been spoiled purple by a shaggy arm bumping against a skimmer.
A firm, low woof turned my attention. The sheriff sat beside a teak storage chest. Colorful noodles, loungers and polka-dotted inner tubes lay scattered in its periphery. It wasn’t difficult to surmise someone had emptied the box and jumped inside.
In the blink of an amber eye, I was back at the lake house, down the hall, in the bedroom, frantically shoving aside toys, but this time the shadow stretching through the nightlight was mine. Poor Rhetta. I wiped my eyes. And now this poor soul, too.
The sheriff dropped his paw on the lid and glanced from me to the chest with a quizzical head tilt. As I approached, he dragged his foot off.
The chest had a hinged lid and a thin indent in the center to grab.
Recalling Calico’s staircase descent and the flash of her smile, I came around the back and rapped the sun-toned wood. “This is Marcy Davins and Sheriff Caelan Harlowe, working on behalf of, how do you say it, Caelan? The State of Connecticut? Shit, United States Marshals service? Doesn’t matter. You in the box, do you understand?”
Not a growl, but a wheeze. “Yeah.” Male, younger, calm. I glanced at Caelan, wondering if he could smell the difference between pure humanity and those transformed to a lesser degree.
“We need you to come out.” A pause so long I flipped off the safety and repeated the question, adding a simple, “I won’t ask again.”
The speaker coughed. “Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m hurt.”
Before I could ask, the sheriff’s dark muzzle pressed against the teak. He withdrew relaxed but ready, tension coiling an already stiff posture.
“Please, you’ve gotta help me. I’ve gotta get to my sister. She’s at a sleepover in Simsbury. She has no idea—”
