chapter 11
“It can’t be!” Katelyn blurted aloud, but she knew she was right. She covered her mouth with both hands. The boxes behind her teetered, threatening to fall, but she could do nothing but stare at the bullets. In her grandfather’s garage. Silver bullets.
Before she knew what she was doing, she bolted. Still clutching the flashlight, she flew out of the garage and across the road, into the forest, as if it was safe. Branches tore at her pants, at her hair.
Thunder rumbled. Lightning crackled above the treetops, lighting up the forest, and she saw a shadow thrown against a trunk that was not hers. It was black and thin, the hands elongated, unearthly. She couldn’t make sense of it. Her heart was beating too fast and she staggered left, right, as the rain bucketed down on top of her head.
There are silver bullets in the garage.
There is something out here with me.
The shadow slid along the tree trunks in strobe-like flashes of light and she threw herself away from it in a half circle and slammed hard against a tree. The flashlight rolled away and framed a face beneath a cowboy hat.
Justin’s face.
“Kat?” he asked, hurrying toward her. “What’s wrong?”
“What — what are you . . .” She couldn’t talk. She was terrified. Maybe she’d imagined it and they’d only been normal bullets — her senses were off-kilter because of all the changes and the stress.
He put his arms around her and she burst into tears. She shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t let him see; but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Did something scare you?” he asked her.
“Why are you here?” she asked shrilly, pulling herself back out of his embrace. There was so much rain everywhere, and she could barely see, and nothing was making sense. Had she gone crazy?
Justin’s face glowed through the sheets of rain, white like a phantom. As she blinked at him, the forest came alive. There was a squirrel on a branch above his head; an owl still higher, preparing to dive at it. Farther on, there was a beautiful tawny wolf. Justin was not alone.
She began to run as fast as she could, pushing past branches and slipping in the mud. Lunging at ropes of Spanish moss, grabbing onto pine branches, she scrabbled and struggled. All she saw was a field of red and blinding white as her werewolf senses kicked in. Everything was giving off its own heat. It was like the other night trying to come back from having seen Cordelia, only five times more powerful.
Then Justin grabbed her and held her even though she flailed at him. She panted hard.
“Let me go,” she said.
“What the hell is wrong?” he asked her.
“Nothing,” she said. “I — I just got spooked in the garage.” She jerked as he took off his cowboy hat and put it on her head. Then he picked up her flashlight and started walking her out of the woods toward the cabin.
“Spooked, hell.”
“I — I’m so emotional.” She threaded her hair away from her face. “I’ve been really short-tempered.” She tried to peer through the trees. “Who’s with you?”
“No one. I came alone.”
She slipped, and he grabbed her hand. She was galvanized by his touch. “I saw a wolf.”
“Then you were seeing things, darlin’, because we’re the only wolves here.”
They stood at the edge of the road. The garage door hung open, and Justin headed toward it.
“No,” she said quickly. “I found some things of my dad’s, and it just freaked me out. But I’m not supposed to go in there. My grandfather asked me not to, but I did anyway.”
“See what comes from not listening to your elders,” he chided her gently. “Your father is partly why I came. I didn’t know your pa was murdered. I didn’t know much about you at all, except that you were new in town and Cordelia liked you. I did a little digging, and then I got to thinking about you being changed and all, without a hell of a lot of guidance.”
He straightened the hat on her head. It was miles too big, and she could barely see beneath the brim. She clenched her fists, sure that she was about to burst apart — which was his point, she supposed.
“Digging,” she said. “Digging where?”
“Girl, you’re all over the internet,” he drawled. “Your daddy’s murder. Your mother’s death. Didn’t they teach you how to be careful about your information back in L.A.?”
“I can’t talk about this now,” she said tensely. “I’m supposed to be in my room. If my grandfather finds me out here, he’ll ground me. And then I won’t be able to come over for my ‘guidance.’”
He was silent for a beat. Then he said, “Being a female werewolf’s different from what I know. You were smart to stay away for a few days. That’s our rule, too. I think my uncle’s forgotten that we’ve got an extra complication here.”
If she could have spared any more emotions, she would have felt embarrassed. But she was already overloaded; she wanted him to go away. She wanted to go back into the garage and make sure she hadn’t been seeing things.
And . . . she didn’t want him to go away. She wanted help. She didn’t want to be so alone right now.
I can go to Trick, she thought. But she could tell him even less than she could tell Justin.
Cordelia. The right answer. Her friend. She pressed her knuckles together beneath her chin and exhaled, as if to get rid of how much she missed her.
“If we brought someone in to guide you — a female — she’d have to be high-ranking,” he continued. “Which would mean someone like Arial or Regan . . . or Lucy.”
She shook her head. “No way.”
“But—”
“Don’t be an ass,” she said hotly. She let her hands fall. “I have to go. Stop stalking me.”
“I told you to get used to being watched,” he said. “And don’t talk to me like that. Ever. Not even when we’re alone.”
“Or what?” She raised her chin. “You’ll hurt me?”
He pressed his lips together, and she wanted to slap that scowl off his face. Who put him in charge? Who could decide he was high-ranking?
“Go in the house,” he snapped. He handed her the flashlight.
“I have to straighten things out in the garage. By myself,” she added pointedly, taking it. She couldn’t leave the bullets out. Her grandfather would know she’d found them.
So what? she thought hotly. He doesn’t know.
Does he?
She quaked. “All right, then,” he said. “But this isn’t over. We need to talk.” He took his hat, and the rain blasted at the crown of her head.
Katelyn used that as her excuse to duck into the garage. And shut the door in his face.
The bullets.
Most of them were tarnished, but some were still shiny. She stared at them queasily, trying to convince herself she was in some kind of waking nightmare, then she picked one up, turning it over in her palm, studying it. Finally she dropped it back into the box, reached out and closed the lid.
Suddenly cold, she wrapped her arms around herself and thought about the scratch marks on her grandfather’s back, her fears that they had been made by a werewolf.
She thought about someone shooting at her in the forest.
“No way,” she said aloud.
After she stowed the bullets and tried to replace the tape, she hovered on the threshold of the garage and tried to pick out Justin from the shadows. It weirded her out that he was there.
And I did see a wolf, she insisted.
The storm pushed at her as she hurried back inside the cabin, then closed and locked the door. She stood for a moment, her back pressed to it, listening for a sound, any sound, that would let her know if Mordecai was awake.
The house was silent. Her head spun, and her stomach churned as if she were going to throw up. Fear and revulsion collided, and also the tiniest flicker of hope. If her grandfather knew about werewolves, then maybe she could actually tell him, confide in him.
With the very next heartbeat, she knew that wish was foolish and suicidal. Mr. Fenner had been clear that if she told her grandfather anything, he would kill them both.
Not if Grandpa kills him first.
She trembled as the thought took hold of her. Her grandfather was a hunter and he had a whole box of the right kind of ammunition. He could shoot Mr. Fenner and then . . .
What? she wondered. The rest of the pack would rip them to shreds. Or at least her, since her grandfather might already be in jail for murder.
She stared at the wall of trophy animal heads. What happened to a werewolf when they died? Did they look like a wolf, or a human? For one crazy second she imagined Mr. Fenner’s human head mounted on her grandfather’s wall and she was sickened by the thrill that rushed through her.
I hate him, she realized. I hate him for sending Cordelia away, for threatening me and my grandfather and Trick. A low rumble started in her chest and she shook her head hard, trying to calm herself down.
She moved swiftly into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. She was completely losing it, torn between rising fright and a wild, hysterical giddiness. The rumble was getting louder as she brought the glass to her lips.
She downed the glass of water and then stood for a moment, spooked by her own reflection in the window. White face, black holes for eyes. The growling seemed to have died down, but the hatred for Mr. Fenner still burned bright.
And she wanted so badly to tell her grandfather everything. He was strong; maybe he could protect them both.
Head thrown back, she gulped down another glass of water.
What if he shot Justin?
Her heart stopped for a moment.
I’m crazy. If he knows about werewolves, he has those silver bullets for one reason and one reason only. To kill us. How do I know he wouldn’t kill me, too?
She thought of the silver trap in the forest that she had fallen into. Had her grandfather put it there?
The room tilted crazily and lightning billowed against the gingham curtains. She put her glass in the sink and made her way upstairs. Shivering, she changed into dry pajamas and lay down on her bed, misery coursing through her as she stared up at the skylight.
It was just too dangerous.
She couldn’t tell him.
Not ever.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Silver girl, silver girl, let me come in.
Peering down through the skylight.
Creeping down the hall.
Opening the door.
Click.
Click.
Click.
“What?” Katelyn said blearily as she sat up. She could see her breath, and when she looked up she saw that the skylight was completely covered with snow.
She had taken off her soaking wet pajamas and laid them on towels on the floor; they were still ice-cold and still wet. If she had hung them in the bathroom, her grandfather would have known that she’d gone outside.
She dressed in jeans and a sweater, realizing she felt the cold, and raced downstairs. Mordecai was putting a log on the fire, which crackled and roared. She was surprised that she felt the cold so intensely and it drove her over to stand in front of it next to him. The radiating warmth began to thaw her slightly.
“Good morning,” her grandfather said.
She nodded. “Why is it so cold?” She walked over to the window and stared outside.
Snow, everywhere. The dreaded winter had finally come.
She leaned her head against the windowpane and strangled back a sob. What happens when the full moon comes in a couple of weeks? She took a moment to steady herself. Her grandfather came to stand beside her and she stole a glance at him. What do you know? What’s going on? she wanted to scream at him. But she stayed quiet.
“Are we snowed in?” she asked.
“Naw,” he said with a chuckle. “Higher up the mountain got a lot of snow, but this isn’t bad. Just means it’s time to put chains on your car. You ever done that?”
She shook her head. She’d seen her dad do it once when she was a kid on a trip to Lake Tahoe, but that was it.
“I’ll teach you,” he said.
A low rumbling sound reached her ears. Oh no, why am I growling? she thought. It took her a breathless moment to realize that the sound wasn’t coming from her, but from outside.
“What’s that sound?” she asked.
He cocked his head as though listening. She mentally smacked her forehead. Of course, he probably can’t hear it. He isn’t a werewolf.
A moment passed, then another. The rumbling grew louder, sounding mechanical in some way.
Finally he nodded. “Sounds like Trick’s car.” He looked at her intently. “Sharp ears,” he muttered.
Trick was coming. There were silver bullets in the garage, Justin was spying on her, and now Trick.
A minute later, his Mustang pulled up outside the cabin. Katelyn watched from the window as he got out. He was wearing a black sweater and black pants, and he looked sleek, like a panther.
He walked up the steps and she went to answer the door. Despite everything, she felt a tingle of anticipation as she let him in.
“Mornin’,” Trick said. He kicked the snow off his boots on the mat, took them off, and walked inside.
“Coffee?” Mordecai said, appearing from the kitchen with a mug.
“You know I never refuse free coffee,” Trick said, taking the mug and sipping the hot liquid. “Or free food.”
It was such a blatant hint about breakfast that Katelyn cracked a smile. Her grandfather shook his head and disappeared back into the kitchen.
“So, what’s up?” Katelyn asked, sounding brisk and curt. If Trick noticed, he gave no indication.
“You ever been sledding?” he asked.
“They had a snow hill at the L.A. Zoo at Christmas,” she replied. “It was killer.”
He snorted. “That was just stunt snow. This is real snow. First snow, and we’re going farther up the mountain to take advantage of it.”
“No clothes,” she informed him.
“Brought some.”
This is crazy, she thought, but it was just her insane double life come calling again.
He must have seen her make the decision to go, for he grinned at her and said, “I should warn you, I pack a mean snowball.”
“Bring it, Vladimir,” she taunted him, using his hated first name.
“Oh, I will, Katelyn. I’ll go get your stuff.”
She watched him from the porch. He really was gorgeous; she let herself stare and couldn’t help but feel the corners of her mouth tugging into a smile.
The world was snowy and beautiful, tree branches frosted with ice and sprinkled with powdery white. There were chains on Trick’s tires and the trunk was half open, exposing two old-fashioned wooden sleds secured inside with bungee cords.
Her grandfather waved from the porch. “Come back in one piece.”
“I will,” Trick said as he moved to the car.
“Wasn’t talking to you.”
Katelyn couldn’t help but snicker as she got into the Mustang.
A minute later they were on their way. She sat back against the seat and looked out the window at the receding cabin. Silver bullets. In our garage. Were there also werewolf pelts?
She shuddered hard. Trick must have seen her do it.
“Yo?” he said.
“Just thinking.” She looked over, trying to read him.
“You don’t have to be this nervous,” he said. “Packed snow only leaves minor bruising.”
“I’m not nervous.”
He didn’t reply.
“How well do you know my grandfather?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.
Trick raised a brow. “He’s my godfather. I was born in your cabin. And what with my folks being away on business so much, we’ve spent a whole lot of time together over the years.”
She stared at him, assuming he was joking. She didn’t know anyone who had a godfather. Images of Mafia guys in trench coats rose in her mind. “C’mon.”
He shrugged. “I’m serious. My middle name is Mordecai.”
She gaped at him, thrown, not sure what to do with the new information. Aware of how little she really knew about Trick. And now she realized it, he rarely mentioned his parents. She knew they were rich, very rich — but they were also very busy, flying all over the country for his dad’s design business — and she had been amazed when going to Trick’s place for a party to discover that he had his own building on their property. “How come I didn’t know this?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought you did know.” He smiled at her. “We’re practically related. But luckily, not technically.” He cocked his head. “Does it bother you for some reason?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Why would it?”
“You tell me.” He winked at her. “Because, hello? It is bothering you. It’s cool, Katelyn. We share no common genes. Our offspring will be healthy.”
She made a show of sputtering with indignation and gently punching his shoulder. But that was all it was, a show. Inside, she was working things out. That helped explain why he came over all the time, and all the conversations they’d had on the porch. And why her grandfather trusted him to take care of Katelyn.
If only my grandfather knew that I got bitten by a werewolf on Trick’s watch, she thought. After he hid out in his car at Sam’s party and told me to go away.
Then they were driving on a road she’d never been on before, climbing toward the mountaintops. Snow flurries fluttered against the windshield, and glittered in the sunshine.
“You’re having so many private conversations you could be schizophrenic,” he drawled.
She was saved from having to answer as Trick guided the car to the side of the road and killed the engine. Back in California they wouldn’t have just stopped wherever it struck their fancy. There would be a formal park, with a blacktop lot for the car, and drinking fountains and signs.
He opened the door and put on his cowboy hat. As he went around in front of the Mustang, he held up his hand, signaling for her to wait in the car, then when he got to her side of the vehicle, he stomped his boots hard and she realized he was tamping down the snow for her. Satisfied, he opened the car and held out his hand.
She took it, and as he helped her out he grabbed a handful of slushy snow from the roof of the car and slid it down her back. She shrieked and batted at him, laughing as he trotted backwards. He yanked his cowboy hat off and used it as a shield as she gathered up snow with both hands and flung it at him. He jockeyed back and forth, taunting her, guffawing as she kicked snow at him, then headed straight for him.
“Crazy girl on the loose!” he cried, easily sidestepping her.
“Who are you calling crazy?” she demanded as she wheeled around for another attack. She started to put on a burst of speed, then reined herself in as she remembered that she couldn’t draw attention to her enhanced abilities.
Trick raced up a hill, cackling in triumph. Then, as she pretended to struggle to catch up with him, he hung a U-turn, soaring back down on the other side of a stand of evergreens. She tried to get to him, but he was too fast. He reached the car and unfastened the sleds, loping back to meet her as he trailed them behind on the ground.
Panting, she fell in beside him. He reached in his jacket and handed her a pair of black waterproof gloves.
“Forgot to bring you some,” he said. “Use mine.”
“Oh, no, I’m not—” She was about to tell him that she wasn’t cold. Just this morning, she’d been very chilly in the cabin. But now, she was just fine. Of course, she should be freezing, plus it was so sweet of him. “Thank you.” She put the gloves on, which were miles too big for her hands, and wiggled her fingers at him.
At the top of the hill, he set the sleds down side by side. They were made of wood standing on wicked-looking curved blades to cut through ice and snow. The incline sheered downward, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth.
“You’re not scared, are you?” he asked.
She scoffed. “Preposterous,” she said.
“That’s a mighty big word, little lady,” he drawled. “Care to back it up with some runs down the mountain?”
“Mountain, hah. This is a bunny slope.” She cocked her head. “Do you sit down or lie down?”
“Whatever it takes. Not a lot of rules in sledding.”
He sat on his sled, then chuckled as she hesitantly copied him. She picked up a loop of rope.
“That’s how you steer. Pull this way, you go to the left.”
She pulled on the rope, then jerked her head over at him. “Don’t, like, give me a push to get started or anything, okay?”
“Don’t think that’s how it works with you,” he teased. Then he dug his snow boots into the whiteness and pushed off, and began to angle down. Watching him, she decided it didn’t look so bad, and did the same.
And she went fast, very fast; she left silver bullets and the Hellhound and the Fenners behind as she screamed with a combination of alarm and exhilaration. The sled picked up even more speed, and Trick shouted out, “Whoa, whoa, Katelyn!”
Faster.
“You’re on ice!” he bellowed. “Just steer straight!”
She shrieked, laughing, realizing she was going to fly past him. How the heck was she going to stop?
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lean backward. Try to drag your feet!”
Instead she reflexively yanked on the rope, way too hard. The sled zoomed sharply to the right and Katelyn tumbled off, face first, into the snow. She burst into a cascade of relieved guffaws, laughing so hard she couldn’t move.
“Oh, my God,” Trick said, stricken.
She kept laughing, helplessly, until he reached her and cautiously rolled her onto her back. All she could see were his green eyes as he bent over her and wiped the snow off her face.
“Are you okay? Are you all right?” he demanded.
She nodded, still laughing. “Ice on my side of the hill, huh? How convenient—”
Trick slid his hands under her neck and upper back, lifting her from the snow, and kissed her. His lips pressed against hers and he gasped, then he eased his tongue into her mouth. Pleasurable explosions burst at the small of her back and fanned out everywhere — her toes, her cheeks, the top of her head. She couldn’t believe how good it felt, but it went beyond physical sensation to a sweet, deep joy. This was Trick, smart and quirky and yes, scary and unpredictable, but it was Trick. She hadn’t kissed him in almost a month, and she had missed him, missed this. So much.
Trick’s breath was hot against her cheek, her earlobe. He kissed her closed eyes, returning again and again to her mouth. He was raising her head, shoulders, and upper back above the snow, cradling her, holding her as if she were the most precious, adored girl in the world. She put her arms around his neck, clinging to him, never, ever wanting to stop kissing him.
He covered her face with kisses, then whispered her name into her ear over and over: “Katelyn, Katelyn.”
And there was something about his voice that stopped her. Something familiar, and dangerous. Something that reminded her that when she was with Justin, she wanted him to kiss her like this, too. It made her feel two-faced and she understood how it would hurt Trick if he knew. And even though she knew the attraction to Justin was only physical — something to do with the wolf part in her reacting to the wolf in him — it still made her feel ashamed.
I’m not part of Trick’s world anymore. I’m not human. And my grandfather has silver bullets in his garage.
“Trick,” she protested, turning her face.
He didn’t answer, just craned his head and kissed her mouth again. Her lips parted and her head fell back. It felt so good. And so right.
I’m not human.
“Trick, please.” She pushed gently at him, feeling his heartbeat beneath her hand, and then she said, “No.”
He stopped immediately. His breathing shallow, he cradled her head and laid his cheek against her forehead. Then, with a sigh, he pulled her up to her feet. His face was full of color; his cheeks were red and his lips were slightly swollen from their kisses. And his pupils were so dilated they almost looked black.
If only she could explain. But she couldn’t.
As if he could read her mind, he cupped her chin and chastely brushed his lips against hers. Then he took her gloved hand in his and splayed it over his heart, which was racing so fast she couldn’t count the beats.
“No’s the magic word,” he said. “I want you, Kat. But it’s not just physical — I’m not some kind of animal.”
But I am, she thought. Part of her wanted to take back the no. But she had to sort everything out.
“And I won’t just be friends,” he added. “I can’t be your best androgynous pal in the friend zone while you sample what Wolf Springs has to offer.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, darlin’. Not even an explanation. But if I keep kissing you, you will. That’s how I’ll see it.”
“Trick,” she said, and he cocked his head, the sun glistening on his high cheekbones. He was so amazing looking. Check, beyond that, he was amazing.
“When — if — you’re ever ready, you know how to let me know.”
Shaken, she lowered her gaze. He began walking away toward the car. All too soon, their morning together was at an end. She was so sad. It had felt like a reprieve.
Then something hard and wet smacked the back of her head. A snowball. She whirled around to find him bent over, already packing another one.
As fast as she could, she grabbed two handfuls of snow and smacked them together. There was no snowball, only an explosion of icy crystals. She shrieked, defenseless, as Trick’s second snowball hit her on the shoulder. As she yelled in protest, he picked her up and carried her to her sled, plopped her on it, and grabbed the rope. He began to drag her up the hill.
“No!” she cried. He kept pulling. “Trick, I said no!”
“It’s all in the context, darlin’,” he said, and kept going.
“Fine. Wear yourself out.” She dug her heels into the snow to add to the drag. He kept pulling and she kept dragging. Then she leaped up and yanked on the rope he held so tightly, throwing him off balance. As he fell, she took off running down the hill, arms flailing as she laughed in triumph.
She tried to keep herself from running flat out, but her competitive streak got the best of her. Stumbling over her boots, she put on a burst of speed, heading for a copse of trees at the slope’s edge. Her laughter echoed against the hill. She was giddy. It felt so good to put everything on a shelf and just be in the moment — to be a kid, to flirt with a hot guy who was into her. It was exactly what she needed to burn off all the tension.
“I’m coming for you!” Trick bellowed behind her. “Better run, girl!”
She burst into the trees and tore through them, laughing like a crazy person. Then she came to a rise before the next hill and stopped to catch her breath. As she panted, she looked back over her shoulder, but Trick’s approach was hidden by the trees. Then she looked down the next hill, planning her escape.
About a hundred feet away, something dark was lying on the ground. As Katelyn studied it, a funny feeling tapped at the base of her skull and lifted her hair from her neck. She began to run toward it. It was a person.
“Hey!” she cried. “Hey, are you okay?”
As if in answer, a bird trilled. She heard something behind her crashing through the trees. She didn’t wait for Trick.
It was a man. Or rather, what was left of him.