Will licked his lips and forced a small smile. “Skunky American beer.”
“Or the only thing that could kill a werewolf.”
We both looked out to the deserted street and noticed the lone silver bullet at the same time. It was lolling against the black concrete, winking in the night.
Suddenly I was stone-cold sober. I sucked in a sharp breath.
“My God, Will. Someone is hunting werewolves.”
Chapter Fourteen
In my imagination I am Sophie Lawson, Badass Investigator, Paranormal Specialist. I wear black leather, like a second skin; I wield a sexy, jeweled sword; I have the kind of hair that flies in gorgeous wisps over my naked, carved shoulders.
In real life I was crouching behind a Dumpster, sputtering and making snot bubbles; my skin was pasty white and “I’ll hit the gym tomorrow” jiggly.
“Someone’s hunting werewolves?” I finally bellowed; my voice was choked with tears and terror. “Does someone think I’m a werewolf?” I pointed to my own chest and then focused on my index finger. “Have I always had hair on my fingers? Oh, holy lord, I’m becoming a werewolf, and someone is trying to kill me!”
Will grabbed my halfway-to-a-paw hand and pushed it to my side. “I don’t think anyone thinks you’re a werewolf, love.”
I shook my head. “What’s going on, Will?”
He gathered up the last of the silver bullet casings and slipped them in his pocket.
“Are you okay?”
I gave myself a mental pat down and a short scan for bullet holes. Other than a bladder that was suddenly, shamefully empty, I was unharmed. “I think I’m okay,” I said, my voice a cracked whisper. “Are you?”
Will nodded coolly as though a shower of bullets was a common occurrence in his English life; then he helped me to stand.
He brushed little bits of gravel from my shirt and frowned. “I think Bettina was right. Someone is definitely out to eradicate their kind.”
My stomach quivered, gooseflesh breaking out all over my arms. “Oh my God.”
“This guy might be after anyone mythical.”
I licked my lips in a vain attempt to stop them from trembling. “So not VERM? Not just vampire defense.”
Will shot me a noncommittal glance. “I’m not sure any of this is a coincidence anymore.”
I slowly began to process what Will was suggesting—a serial killer of mythical creatures?—when I heard a gruff wince coming from the street. My whole body went hot again; the hair on the back of my neck pricked up. My legs trembled like Jell-O and I thanked God that my bladder was empty.
“What was that?”
Will pushed me behind him again and my inner Gloria Steinem was stomped out by my overwhelming girlie desire to climb up on his shoulders and bury my head in his neck.
Will picked his way across the wet sidewalk to where the wincing was coming from; the collapsible iron gate that locked the storefront next door was gaping open, and there was a dark shape hulking inside.
“Hello?” Will asked. “Sir, do you need help?”
Though I trusted Will implicitly, a large part of me considered taking off, running—if only to get help for the downed stranger. To get help and possibly to crawl under a bed somewhere and scream bloody murder until everything was calm again.
Instead, I stayed glued to Will, certain that my thundering heart would bash through my rib cage and kill us both.
I could make out the shape of a large man lying on his side against the brick wall. He made a sound, somewhere between a grunt and a growl, and I stiffened.
“Is he hurt?”
Will shrugged me off. “Sir, I’m an EMT and a fireman. I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m going to come in and check on you. Again, are you hurt?”
“No,” came the gasping reply. “Don’t come in here. Just leave me alone.” A painful breath punctuated every word, and I narrowed my eyes, peering deeper into the shadows. I could make out the man’s rumpled coat; the hem dipped into a shard of streetlight and I noticed that the stitching was even and hand done, the luxurious gray silk lining exposed.
“I think he’s a businessman,” I whispered to Will. “Ask him if he’s a businessman.”
Will glared over his shoulder at me and took another step toward the man, who shifted and lurched. The man jumped out of the darkness and his face was thrust into the light, teeth bared, upper lip snarled. Though he remained crouched, I could see the guy was huge, with biceps the size of melons and a chest at least three feet across, smeared with blood. A vein bulged in the man’s neck, and his dark skin was stretched tight. His brown eyes were wild, and sweat stood out above his eyebrows and lips.
“I don’t need any help,” the man snarled.
“You need a doctor,” Will said. His full body was tensed and seemingly ready to pummel the man.
“I don’t.” The man doubled over and crumbled before he could finish. I whipped around Will and knelt down, just a few inches from the man’s face.