Tracked mad one into woods, pines, firs, oak, maple, sweet gum. Soil heavy with rotten stench. Elder’s dogs had fed it, two dog bodies decaying in brush. This was hunting ground.
I moved slowly, tail held straight behind. Remembering speed of mad one. Didn’t move like sick prey. Moved like wind, unseen. Fast. I stopped often, scenting air. Circled back, sniffing, into trees. No fire had cleaned forest; underbrush was thick. Path only way. Trap? Mad one would understand traps.
Trees opened into clearing, floor of pine needles. Hunched down, waiting. Nothing moved. Slowly, I circled open space. Found nothing, no out-moving path, no trace of scent leaving. Carefully moved into clearing. Soil rank with its scent, heavy with reek of old blood. Liver-eater rot. It hadn’t left. Yet was not here. Puzzling. A game and hunt for her, for Jane.
I looked at sky. Little night left. I/we were far from new den, from rock she marked to find place. Far from food that did not have to be stalked. Much dead cow in cold place in den.
Refrigerator, she thought at me. In the freebie house.
Turning, I padded back down path.
Near dawn I stopped at edge of city, in safe place, full of shadows. Garden near house where family slept. One snored. Jane awoke, clamored to be alpha. If I did not shift, Beast would be all day; she would not. But bad in this hunt. I/we slid beneath plant. Crouched. Let her come. I/we shifted. Gray place like half-dark of cave swallowed me. Light and dark, lightning in storm-torn sky. Bones slid, popped. Pain cut through like a thousand knives.
Hissed. Was gone.
I lay, naked and filthy on the ground, panting, trembling like I’d been struck by lightning. A spider crawled across my foot and I shook it off. The gray place of the shift had seemed to last longer than usual this time. I had no idea what really happened when I shifted, though I had seen a digital video of it, taken by Molly not long ago, and I didn’t really disappear into some other realm. I just glowed like light and shadow, like lightning in a storm cloud. I figured it might be something like quantum mechanics or physics, my cells actually moving around but not going anywhere. Something like that. It wasn’t like I had anyone to ask. When I got my breath, I rolled to all fours and to my feet.
I needed calories, fast, but first I needed clothes. I pulled off the pack and unrolled my clothes. Carrying them so tightly rolled meant they were always horribly wrinkled, but it was better than going naked. I slid into jeans and tee and strapped the pack, now containing only money, cell phone, keys, and weapons—a stake, a cross, and my derringer—to my waist and slipped on the thin-soled shoes. No bra, no undies. But covered. I wrapped my long hair in a knot, out of the way. At least it always shifted back untangled. Squaring my shoulders, I moved into the dawn, out from the eaves of a house. I had no idea where I was on a map, but my cat senses said I needed to head northeast. And I needed food. My stomach growled loudly.
In the early light, I spotted a convenience store and bought a candy bar for the calories, a Coke for the caffeine energy punch, and a new tube of lipstick. I took them to the bathroom, where I cleaned up, washing my face and arms, scrubbing beneath my nails. I’d need to call a cab, and no self-respecting cabbie would stop for someone who looked as if she slept in her clothes under a bridge abutment. As soon as I was more presentable, I went back to the cashier, paid for a second candy bar and put on my best I-partied-all-night, world-weary look.
“Can you tell me where I am?”
He laughed. He was maybe eighteen, pimply chin, greasy hair, and smelled of weed and last night’s beer. “You’re near Lapalco Boulevard.”
“I just came from woods, a swamp, and a lake that way.” I pointed. “What’s there?”
He laughed again, thinking me too much a party girl to remember where and with whom I’d spent the night. Which was what I wanted him to believe. His leer was a pain, but I could live with it. “Jean Lafitte National Historical Park? Maybe Lake Catouatchie? There’s several lakes out that-away.”
I held up a five. “This is yours if you call me cab. Someone I can trust to get me back into the Quarter.”
He leaned over the counter, resting his weight on an elbow. “I’m off in a couple hours. I can take you.”
I smiled, looked him over as if interested, and shook my head. “Tempting, but I got to be at work in an hour. I need fast as well as trustworthy.”
He sighed and pulled a cell phone. “You ought to reconsider. Jobs are a dime a dozen. Good fun is a lot harder to come by, and we could have some fun.” I shook my head again, this time adding a rueful, regretful smile, and he punched in a number. The person who answered said, “Bluebird Cab,” so I relaxed. I might be a bit paranoid but paranoid sometimes pays off.