“I’m telling you.” His voice was low and desperate.
“I’m not listening.” I jerked free of his grasp, finished loading the silver bullets, and strode toward the last place I’d seen the slinking shadows.
“Wait.”
I paused, tensed to fight if I had to. But, short of winning that fight, then tying me up, Jimmy wasn’t going to stop me, and he knew it.
He joined me on the sidewalk, gaze darting from building to building, then to the roofs and the alleyways. “One shot should turn them to ashes.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
His mouth thinned. “Then they aren’t shifters.”
I remembered the chindi. That would be bad. I’d have to touch them to discover what they were; then we’d have to figure out how to kill that particular type of Nephilim. What if Jimmy didn’t have the necessary tools in his handy-dandy Hummer?
“One thing at a time,” he murmured. “First, shoot a few and see how much dust we raise.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I moved forward, but he shouldered me back.
“Stay behind me.”
I didn’t bother to argue; I just marched a larger circle around him and continued to walk at his side. “If I’m behind you, I might shoot you instead of them.”
“You’re not that lame.”
“Who said it would be an accident?”
He choked on a laugh as I began to smile. At least we were happy when the werewolves found us.
The alley was dark, but the horizon behind the rangy beasts had gone gray with approaching dawn, throwing them into stark silhouette. There was something off about those silhouettes. They almost looked human, as if men, and a few women too, crept on all fours, backs hunched, heads swaying to and fro as they caught the scent of prey. The wolves also seemed much bigger than the average wolf. Not that I’d ever seen any outside the Milwaukee County Zoo.
Other than their size and strangely humanoid shadows, they resembled wolves. I couldn’t determine the shade of their coats in this light, but their eyes glowed yellow.
“Don’t stop shooting until they’re all dead,” Jimmy said.
“What if—?” I began but never finished.
Didn’t need to, because my question What if they don’t die? was answered as the first silver bullet plowed into the nearest wolf, and it exploded outward, coating the animals on either side of it with ashes. Their snarls ended mid-chorus as we sprayed the pack with ammo.
Surrounded as we were on both sides with concrete and stone, the sound of gunfire was deafening. Above us the sky continued to lighten as we finished the job.
Sudden silence descended. In front of us lay only ash. which stirred and lifted onto the morning breeze.
“Cleanups are a cinch,” 1 said in my best fifties-housewife voice.
Jimmy ignored me, moving down the alley, skirting the tiny piles of disintegrated werewolves to peek around the corner. I tensed, expecting him to start shooting again, but he glanced back, shook his head.
The eerie stillness I’d marked upon entering Hardeyville continued Shouldn’t the townspeople have been alerted by the gunfire? Shouldn’t they be spilling into the streets? At the least, calling out to one another or us?
“The werewolves will return to human form at sunrise,” Jimmy said, staring out at the empty town.
I lifted my gaze to the slice of sky between the two buildings. It had turned blue-gray.
“Let’s get going,” he continued. “It’s much easier to determine a werewolf in wolf form than human.”
Crossing the short distance between us, 1 neatly side-stepped the quickly dissipating piles of ash. “What gives it away?”
“You saw their shadows?” I nodded. “If it’s a moonless night, that makes things harder. Werewolves are bigger than the average wolf, reflecting the weight of their human counterparts. Real wolves, even Alaskan timber, rarely go above a hundred and twenty pounds.”
“A lot of people don’t either.”
“True.”
I frowned. “Then how do you know?”
He shrugged. “If I see a wolf, I shoot it.”
My mouth dropped open. “Aren’t wolves endangered or protected or something?”
“You gonna arrest me?”
I remained silent for a minute. I didn’t like the thought of blasting any wolf that 1 saw, but what was the alternative?
Allowing werewolves to roam free. I didn’t like that any better.
Jimmy noticed my hesitation and made an exasperated sound. “Real wolves don’t venture into populated areas. They’re afraid of humans. If you see a wolf where there are people you can bet your sweet ass it’s either a werewolf or rabid.”
I nodded, understanding. “In either case, shooting them is a good idea.”
“Now you’re catching on,” he said, and slid out of the alley.
I hurried after. “What about when they shape-shift back into a human?”
“What about it?”
“How can you tell if they’re a werewolf?”