chapter 17
I woke before Chaz. He’d shifted to his back in his sleep, the movement jarring me when he tugged me along. At my nudging, he eased up his grip on me, and I slid further up his body to peer down at him. The planes of his face were hard, angular, drawn with strain. Icy blue eyes fogged with sleep gazed up at me half-lidded, questioning. I pressed a hand to his cheek, a soothing stroke that soon had him closing his eyes again. He reached up to gently cradle my face, pulling me down to meet him. His lips found mine, and we tasted each other for a time, a simple, loving gesture that spoke more of comfort than desire.
We lay sprawled together like that for quite a while. He needed the rest, and I didn’t protest when he ended the kiss and settled to a slow, lazy caress of my back.
Just as my eyes were drifting shut again, the sudden realization of what the slant of the sun against the curtains meant alarmed me into wakefulness.
We’d lost a number of hours of daylight. We wouldn’t have much time to investigate and hunt down the people who were after Chaz before the moon would force the shift on the Sunstrikers—and possibly Chaz’s enemies—again. My eyes fell on a scrap of white; another note had been slid under the door, the thick black ink visible from across the room.
Chaz stirred as I pulled away, padding over to the door and picking up the folded sheet of paper. Despite the block letters, the handwriting was a little different. The message was essentially the same.
ATTN: THE WINDOW-LICKING JOHN MADDEN THROWBACK IN CABIN 27
LAST CHANCE FOR U + UR GIRLFRIEND! GTFO BEFORE NIGHTFALL OR THE NIGHTSTRIKERS WILL PWN U!
I tossed it on the table along with the paperwork I’d been working on last night. I jumped when Chaz’s hand reached past me, picking up the note so he could stare at it. He’d been so quiet, I hadn’t heard him come up behind me.
His grumpy expression shifted to anger, and the paper was soon crumpled in his fist. He dropped it and stalked across the room, dug through the drawers until he had some fresh clothes, and yanked them on with quick, savage movements.
“Get dressed. We’re going to find whoever is writing these notes and put a stop to this—right now.”
I hurried to comply, grabbing some jeans and a bulky sweatshirt to combat the chill in the air. Chaz didn’t wait for me to tug on my sneakers before he was out the door, stalking purposefully down the path and calling out for the Sunstrikers to assemble.
Sleepy people stumbled out of the cabins, some of them tugging on shirts or shoes as they hurried to join us. Simon hadn’t bothered with a shirt; his abs were crisscrossed with long scars, marring otherwise flawless pale brown skin. His dark, slanted eyes narrowed when they lit on me, but he returned my nod of greeting. Dillon barely glanced at me as he took his place next to Chaz. Everyone looked tired but wary, and all but a handful were giving both me and Chaz questioning looks.
Once most of the Sunstrikers had gathered by our cabin, Chaz turned to me. He kept his voice low and level, but it did nothing to disguise his irritation. “Shia, which cabin were those people staying in?”
“Number three.”
The others glanced between themselves, shrugging and muttering questions, but Chaz offered no explanation. We followed him as he stalked in the direction of cabin number three, a disorderly mass halting behind him at the door. He didn’t bother to knock. Instead, he kicked the door in, splintering the lock, and stalked inside. A few of us, including myself, Simon, and Dillon, followed him in.
The place was a mess. There were empty soda cans and chip bags everywhere. Junk crunched underfoot. Some kind of gaming console was hooked up to a TV in the corner, and there were dirty clothes and comic books scattered all over the floor. Unwashed dishes were stacked in the sink and on the counter. The place reeked like old cheese mixed with Were musk, a combination that had the Weres around me covering their noses and making gagging noises.
Aside from the biohazardous mold farm accruing on the upside-down pizza slice on the table, the place was empty of occupants.
“Christ, what died in there?” someone behind me complained.
Disgust plain, Chaz poked at some of the clothes until he found a shirt that wasn’t too offensively dirty, picking it up gingerly between two fingers. He took it outside to get a whiff without the god-awful stench of the rest of the room interfering. I didn’t follow. Instead, I glanced around the place for any clues.
This was clearly a hangout for some nerds who were far less tidy than Arnold, the only geek I knew. The place was too lived in to be a temporary vacation spot. The addition of the TV and gaming equipment, as well as the state of the place, meant that whoever Howard Thomas was, he and his friends spent a lot of time here.
All the dresser drawers were open. There was no clothing left inside, so they must have known we were coming and left in a hurry. With all the other stuff here, no doubt they were planning to come back.
While scanning the wreckage, my eyes lit upon something that made me shout a curse. Chaz, along with a couple other Weres, rushed back inside, tense and ready to face any threat.
“Damn it!” I stalked over to the tall dresser. I hadn’t noticed at first with all the other stuff on top of it, but the missing battery to Arnold’s laptop was sitting in a puddle of spilled soda. A few drops got on my shirt when I picked it up and shook it off. Resignedly, I wiped the rest of it off on the shirt, praying that it wasn’t damaged. Arnold would kill me if it was. Or make me pay for a new one, at any rate.
Chaz shook his head and relaxed, giving me a faux-angry look for scaring him. I was too pissed to muster up more than a weak, sheepish grin. Some of the other Weres eased up from their battle-ready stances, fists unclenching and luminescence dying out of their eyes.
After a few more moments taken to skim the contents of the room, finding nothing, we hustled outside—only to be faced by an angry Mr. Cassidy shouldering his way through the crowd. George wasn’t far behind, hefting a heavy wrench to his shoulder as he followed Mr. Cassidy. They halted a few feet away from us, the old man’s leathery skin reddening under his tan.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “You’ll pay for that damage, sonny, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Explain to the cops how you’re involved in an attempted murder plot?” Chaz snarled, stalking forward. George’s eyes widened, but Mr. Cassidy didn’t bat a lash, holding his ground as Chaz advanced. “We know you have something to do with what’s been happening around here.”
“Even if I did, there isn’t a cop within a hundred miles who would care about it. You’re in my town, boy, and you play by my rules while you’re here.”
Chaz flexed his fingers. I was alarmed to notice they were now tipped with claws; I’d never seen him do a partial shift like that before. It was usually all or nothing.
His voice rumbled deep in his chest, but he turned away from the old man, pulling me close as he stalked off back in the direction of our cabin. The other Sunstrikers followed, leaving plenty of room between themselves and the two men. “If I find any proof you’re hiding whoever shot that arrow, the Sunstrikers will raze this place to the ground.”
“I haven’t broken the laws of homestead, boy, and you’d best remember that. You make the first move, you’ll be hard hunted by more than my clan.”
Chaz didn’t bother to reply, instead leaning in to brush his cheek against my own, whispering a few quiet words. “He’s going to try something. I need to find these people before sundown. Stay with Dillon and Nick; they’ll protect you.”
“What about you? What law was he talking about?” I whispered back, both furious and relieved that he would leave me out of this hunt.
“Don’t worry. I’ll have the rest of the pack to back me up. Simon isn’t my enforcer for nothing.”
“And the law,” I persisted, too agitated to let it go. “What about that?”
“It’s nothing. The laws of homestead are something the Others in New York and a few other states stick to so we can avoid any big confrontations that might draw human attention. We don’t trespass without invitation, and when an invitation is extended, neither party can cause any harm to the other. Anyone who breaks his word gets hunted down by the rest of the Others in the area. Keeps us all in line.”
I stared at him. He rolled his eyes.
“I haven’t broken the laws, Shia. He attempted harm on me first. We’re allowed to fight back if we need to.”
I didn’t argue. Instead, I slid an arm around his waist and clung to him as tightly as I dared, not looking back. No doubt Mr. Cassidy wasn’t happy and would contact whoever those crazies were as soon as we were out of sight.
He might not have broken the laws directly but, indirectly, he was responsible for some of the damage that had been caused. Laws or no laws, I’d do whatever it took to keep Chaz—and the rest of the Sunstrikers—safe.
Deceived By the Others
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