Kenzie broke in. “Did it say ‘We Move Monsters’ on the side?”
Gil chuckled; Bowman scowled. “No such luck. I got a partial plate. The truck was black, both container and cab. Hard to see at night, but still distinctive. People remember glossy black eighteen-wheelers. Took me a while, but I think I found it. The owner has a trucking company in Raleigh, but when I contacted them, they said the truck had been stolen about a year ago. They already have the insurance money for it, and didn’t care what happened to it, but they did give me the name of the last driver. I checked him out—he’s dropped out of sight, but he did own property around here. I went up there to check it out. Found the truck, but no monster, as you probably guessed.”
“Where?” Bowman asked, his eyes changing to white gray.
“Around Leicester, outside an old farm. Farm’s been abandoned, but some of the buildings are intact.”
Kenzie came alert as well. She and Bowman exchanged a long look, their earlier bantering over. The old farm near Leicester was where the Shifters of this Shiftertown held their fight club.
“We need to get up there,” Kenzie said.
“Damn right.” Bowman came off the sofa and was out the door before Kenzie could catch him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bowman had to concede to go out to the site in Ramirez’s car. He’d started for his motorcycle, but his stiff leg, and Kenzie pointing out he hadn’t quite finished healing, made him realize he couldn’t drive himself. He turned around and ordered Gil to take them there.
He had to admit that Gil wasn’t as annoying as most humans, and that fact irritated him. Gil had nodded at Bowman and unlocked his car without fuss or argument.
No one locked a car in Shiftertown, Bowman grumbled to himself as he climbed inside, hiding a grunt of pain. Did Gil think one of Bowman’s Shifters was going to steal it? But Bowman knew, as he stretched out in the backseat, that he was deliberately finding fault. He didn’t want to like Gil, because Kenzie’s eyes softened whenever she looked at the man.
Kenzie rode in front beside Gil, talking in her friendly way as they headed out of Shiftertown into twilight. Bowman pretended to doze but kept a sharp eye on Gil.
He’d alerted Jamie before they left the house as to where they were going, and told him to be on standby. He’d talked to Jamie because Cade hadn’t answered his phone. Bowman couldn’t hear much of what Jamie said over the background noise of music and shouting, but he thought he heard something about “grizzlies tightrope walking.” Fucking bears.
“Just don’t let Ryan do it,” Bowman had shouted.
“What?” Jamie had yelled back. “Oh, Ryan. No, he’s fine. I’ll keep him with me until you get back.” Click. The party’s noise had abruptly cut off.
Bowman let it go. He knew that his Shifters were partying hard tonight because they’d been scared shitless last night. Reaction was setting in, and they were letting off steam in the relative safety of Shiftertown, which was well-guarded—better guarded than humans knew.
Good thing it wasn’t fight club night, since Gil was taking them up there. Shifters used fighting to let off tension as well, but the schedule for this fight club was rigid: once every two weeks, and that was it. Bowman knew the danger of letting it become a free-for-all, anytime-they-wanted-to-fight scene. Shifters needed boundaries, especially in this Shiftertown, where casual bouts could become clan wars.
Kenzie kept up pleasant chatter with Gil as they rode through hills and down into valleys where farms filled either side of the road. Gil talked easily, he and Kenzie behaving as though they were old friends. Bowman suppressed his irritation and remained silent.
The farm Gil drove to had been abandoned long ago, the owner neither bothering to sell the land nor continuing to farm it. Weeds had taken over the fields; the last crop had dried out and was yielding to fierce choking grasses. Sheds around the fields had fallen in, disintegrating on themselves.
The fight club had commandeered the larger, dilapidated barn, now just a flat floor with a large roof over it. Shifters had replaced rotting beams and timbers, shoring up the old place. Now, on fight club nights, it was a teeming arena, alive with Shifters, humans coming to watch and wager, adrenaline, laughter, and blood sport.
This evening, however, it was deserted and derelict. Gil stopped just below the arena, killing his lights.
Bowman got out, wincing when his leg straightened. Kenzie was beside him almost instantly. She’d ceased her teasing and stood at his shoulder, looking with him toward the ring.
An eighteen-wheeler was parked under the huge roof, its black paint gleaming in the light of the flashlight lantern Gil carried. Bowman didn’t need a flashlight to see it, and he didn’t need any more evidence to tell him that the monster had been inside it. Its scent came to him loud and clear.