Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles #2)

by Nancy Holder

  She came to a stand of trees growing so closely together that Justin couldn’t have possibly passed through them. She walked along it, huffing, growing more nervous, and turned around to go back the way she had come. But she faced a V in the path that she didn’t remember. She took the left branch, but it looked unfamiliar, so she went back to the beginning and took the right fork. She didn’t recognize that, either.

  Birds took flight overhead, startling her, and she raised herself on tiptoes to see if she could locate where they’d been roosting before they bolted. Maybe that was where Justin was. But she was too short to see over the bobbing pine branches in her way.

  “Oh, forget it,” she muttered. She reached for her cell phone. The GPS would help her get her bearings so she could at least find the right way back to the house. But when her hand dipped into her jacket pocket, she realized that the phone was gone.

  Ice water seemed to pour through her veins. Worse than being lost, she had lost the phone, her lifeline to civilization; the device that Cordelia had texted her on earlier that day and might contact again soon. She wasn’t sure if she had been sweating before, but she became hyper-aware of it now.

  Something moved in the corner of her eye, and she ticked her glance in that direction. She saw only the trees. But it had to be Justin, she told herself. Messing with her.

  “Marco,” she called out, a little mockingly, because she knew it would be uncool to sound afraid. But the truth was, she was getting more jittery.

  “Marco Polo,” she called.

  Something cold and sinister seemed to settle across her shoulders and she whirled around in a half circle; finding nothing, she glanced anxiously around, then upward, squinting. Pinpricks of gray afternoon light were barely visible above the treetops, and she heard the plaintive cry of a dove, things stirring in the underbrush.

  There could be many things in the forest. A werewolf pack of things. Maybe they were hunting her. Maybe Lee Fenner had decided after all that she was too dangerous to be allowed to live. Maybe there was a bounty on her head.

  And I knew how dangerous he is, and I got on Justin’s motorcycle and came here like an idiot anyway, she thought. But she hadn’t really had an option, had she?

  The weighty sensation pressed down and she shivered as if someone had just walked over her grave.

  “Justin?” she croaked out.

  A distant sound somewhere between a growl and a moan echoed against tree against tree against tree. Katelyn froze. It didn’t sound like a wolf. It didn’t sound like anything she had ever heard before in her life.

  The woods around her went deathly quiet. No chirping birds; nothing stirring in the brush. Then she looked down to see a little rabbit standing completely still. About five feet from that one there was another, and it, too, didn’t so much as twitch its fluffy white cotton tail. They were so still that they both looked stuffed. Then she looked more closely and saw that the chest of the closer bunny was fluttering, as if it was panting. The other one, too. They were panicking.

  The hair on the back of her neck rose. Not even the wind made a sound — it was as if it didn’t dare move, either. The forest was holding its breath.

  Another moan vibrated through the forest.

  Closer.

  The rabbits scattered in terror. Cawing birds shot across the forest canopy. And something began to crash through the heavy growth. Something huge.

  In her direction.

  She took off like a shot, running blindly. She came to an incline and skidded, tumbling end over end as her slippery boots lost their purchase. She scrabbled to her feet, charging forward. Dodging nooses of Spanish moss and spindly outstretched twigs, she ran an obstacle course as the sound of breaking branches gained on her.

  A squirrel skittered up the tree nearest to her. More birds burst from a tangle of vines and roots. The wind began to blow as if it had just woken up.

  She kept going. And going. The crack and snap behind drove her faster. There was another growl, and she poured on speed. She twisted her ankle on a loose rock but managed to keep her footing. Then a strong smell filled her nose, almost like rot; and she felt something hot and moist against her shoulder, as if someone was breathing on her.

  Oh, God. It’s a werewolf. Justin couldn’t change at will yet, so it couldn’t be him. She ran faster, bobbling hard on her ankle, her breath coming in bursts. She came to a thicket of pines interlaced with each other. Wildly, she looked left and right. No way to pass. Her lungs on fire, she heaved in air as she dashed along the tree line. Then she spotted a low-hanging branch and jumped up to grab it. Tipping herself upside down, she thrust her legs up and over the limb and whipped herself right side up in a sort of modified gymnastics move like on the uneven bars. There was another branch above her head; she stretched and gripped it, and repeated the movement. Then she set her feet on the branch, wincing at the pain in her ankle, and grabbed onto an overhanging bough. She pulled herself up toward it, and looked down to the ground below.

  She heard the moan again, and her heart stuttered. That was not a werewolf howl.

  Shadows seemed to crawl along the ground.

  Katelyn.

  She couldn’t tell if it was spoken aloud or in her head. But it was the same voice that had been coming after her when she had fallen into the trap.

  The Hellhound?

  The shadows darkened as she stared at them. Impulsively, she tried to swing herself onto the next higher branch but it cracked, broke.

  She screamed as she fell. If something was down there, it would get her. Acting on pure instinct, she tucked and did a flip, then managed to stick a landing as she planted herself in the center of cold, menacing darkness.

  Katelyn, the voice said again.

  “Help!” she bellowed.

  Something exploded through the wall of branches and grabbed her.

  4

  Katelyn began to swing wildly at whatever held her.

  “Kat! It’s me!”

  Justin. He was there and he was shaking her by the shoulders. She batted crazily at him.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, dodging her hands.

  “The Hellhound!” she cried, pushing away from him. “Oh, my God, Justin, run!”

  “No way. Not that again.” A flash of irritation crossed his face. “You just got turned around and freaked yourself out.” He grabbed her hands in both of his, jerking on them when she wouldn’t stay still. “Damn it, Kat.”

  Panting, she looked back over her shoulder. The shadows were gone. “It was coming this way,” she insisted. “I know you heard the groans.” She looked down at her hands in his, and he let go. She almost grabbed onto him but he turned away and started walking. “Justin, there was something.”

  As she kept close behind him, she could practically feel that something was watching her.

  Letting her go.

  For now.

  Seconds later they were back in the clearing. And there stood Lee Fenner with a stopwatch in his hand. Back from wherever he had gone, he was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved chambray shirt. He was very tall, with a shock of white hair, and his tanned face was lined like a worn leather satchel. In human form, he had nearly torn the hair from her head in a fury when she’d failed to act properly obedient. Swallowing hard, she tried to stay calm, but it was very difficult to pretend that she wasn’t scared to death.

  He looked from the stopwatch to her, lids narrowing until his amber eyes were two golden slits. He clicked the timer and frowned at her. “Well, your leg’s not broken,” he said. “You’re not covered in blood. So what the hell took you so long?”

  “She got lost,” Justin said before she could say anything. He squeezed her shoulder hard, a warning to stay quiet. “She’ll get the hang of it.”

  Mr. Fenner grunted and trained his steely gaze on Justin. “That’s up to you, isn’t it, boy?”

  “Yessir,” Justin said. “But you should have seen her, Uncle Lee. She’s a gymnast and she’s got moves w
e can use when we hunt. She was up in the trees like a monkey. She can climb up, look for prey. I’m thinking when she starts keeping her memory, she could do great moves when she’s changed, too.”

  Mr. Fenner cocked a brow. “Oh?”

  Katelyn quavered under his gaze. Could he have been the thing trailing after her? He wasn’t winded, and he was fully dressed. “I’ve been studying gymnastics for years.”

  He grunted. “Maybe you’ll be useful after all.” He held up a warning finger. “You don’t say a word about any of this to your grandpa. Your training. Us. Not one word.”

  “I haven’t and I won’t.” She tried to keep her voice steady. As he glared at her, she lowered her head to show respect . . . and so that he couldn’t see her clamped jaw. He was a tyrant, and she hated him as much as she feared him.

  “Now get her home,” he ordered, and sauntered off in the direction of the house.

  Avoiding Justin’s gaze as well, Katelyn headed for the motorcycle. But Justin gently brushed her forearm with his fingertips. It was a soft, kind gesture.

  “We’ll take the truck,” he said. “You’re too tired to hang onto me for that long.”

  “I, um, lost my cell phone,” she said. She didn’t want to tell him, but neither did she want him finding it and investigating it too closely.

  “No, you didn’t,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to her.

  She stared at him as she wrapped her hand around it. How had he gotten hold of it? Had he found something on there that would get her in trouble, like a new message from Cordelia? As much as she wanted to check the phone, she kept her attention riveted on his face.

  “How?” she asked.

  “Werewolves can move very fast, Kat. You’re not used to it yet, but you’ll get there. I programmed my number in,” he added.

  “Not cool,” she said. And then before he could tell her to act more respectfully, she lowered her head.

  He didn’t respond, just headed for the truck, forcing her to follow. As they climbed into the vehicle, every one of Katelyn’s senses went on alert and she moved as far away from him as she could, gripping the armrest. Then Mr. Fenner appeared at Katelyn’s window, rapping lightly at it. Startled, she fumbled for the button to unroll it, but Justin hadn’t turned the key yet and the electric function didn’t work. She opened the door.

  “Tell your mother to get home,” he said. “It’s going to rain.”

  Katelyn was stunned. He was talking to her as though she was Cordelia. She slid a glance at Justin, who cleared his throat and started the engine.

  “Sure will, Uncle Lee,” he said. “We’ll go tell her right now.”

  “Good. Good.” Mr. Fenner nodded and stepped away from the truck. Katelyn shut the door and sat unmoving as Justin headed for the main road.

  “He’s stressed,” Justin said. “You know Cordelia was his favorite.” He glanced at her as he turned to the left. “You haven’t heard from her, have you?”

  Was he testing her? Did he already know the answer? Had Cordelia texted her again, and he’d seen it? She itched to check out her phone.

  “I won’t give up on finding her,” Justin said, as if he could read her mind. “I’ll make sure she’s safe. I promise you, Kat.”

  She heard the caring in his voice, the concern, and tried to say thank you, but she was too upset. She leaned her head against the window, then thought of all that had happened and pulled away, half imagining that the Hellhound would hurtle itself at the window and crash through the glass.

  “He thought I was her,” she said, deliberately not answering his question. “And that Cordelia’s mother — his wife — was still alive . . . I didn’t know what to do.”

  “You did fine,” he assured her. “Best thing to do is just say and do as little as possible.”

  “Why?”

  He chewed the inside of his cheek as if considering his words very carefully. “Uncle Lee has always been a very dangerous man. His condition — this dementia — now makes him unpredictable as well as dangerous.”

  She swallowed. “All that talk of killing . . . it’s not just talk, is it?”

  Justin focused his sea-blue eyes on her. He looked so serious, dead sober. “No. He really is willing to kill you, and your grandfather. The secret has to be protected, and that’s just him doing his job.”

  She shivered. She had known that was the answer, and she could tell that Justin was being completely honest. “Has he ever had to kill before?” she asked.

  Justin was silent for a long time. “There have been challenges,” he said softly at last.

  The hair stood up on her arms. Challenges. Fights to the death. It was so awful and barbaric. So totally unbelievable.

  “But, family, it’s so important to him,” she said.

  “Not as important as his duty to keep the pack secure.”

  And somehow she sensed that they were no longer talking about her or Cordelia. His jaw was clenched, his chin raised. She traced his sharp profile with her gaze. The tension in the truck was nearly unbearable.

  “What is it?” she asked quietly.

  “Don’t ever cross him, Kat. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”

  “Too?” she whispered, barely remembering to breathe.

  He hunched his shoulders. “When it was clear what was starting to happen to Uncle Lee . . . my father . . . my father went to have a talk with him.”

  She felt her heart skip a beat. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying two men walked into those woods and only one walked out.”

  “You don’t think . . . I thought your dad was killed in a hunting accident.”

  “That’s what Lee tells everyone. I have my reasons to think differently.”

  “Justin,” she breathed, “I’m so sorry. And now you have to live with him. How can you even stand to look at him?”

  “He’s my alpha . . . for now.”

  And those last two words hung in the air between them, and Katelyn knew in her heart that one day Justin was planning on making a challenge.

  “You called me your secret weapon,” she whispered.

  “No one can know about your immunity,” he said. “No one.”

  I bet I’d be Mr. Fenner’s favorite if he knew I was immune to silver, she thought, but she just nodded as the truck slipped into the dark woods; as, in the blackness, the world disappeared.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Nails on wood.

  Nails on glass.

  And leering down at her.

  Eyes.

  Burning eyes.

  Watching from above.

  What big eyes you have.

  The better to see you with.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Nails on the floor.

  Hot breath whispering on her cheek.

  Sleep, beast of silver.

  Katelyn’s new tires came in, and her grandfather put them on her Subaru, which meant that Trick didn’t need to drive her to school anymore. Seeing her riding with Justin had obviously pissed Trick off, but he couldn’t quite keep his distance; Katelyn told herself it didn’t matter what he thought of her, but it did.

  Driving through the woods alone, though, she couldn’t help but think of running through them as something called her name. She kept the car doors locked and seriously rethought her grandfather’s offer of a gun. Would regular bullets work on a werewolf or a Hellhound, or would only silver bullets work?

  She and Cordelia had researched the Hellhound when they had begun their history class report on the lost Madre Vena silver mine. According to legend, the Hellhound guarded the rich cache of ore and silver treasure deep inside the mine. Cordelia’s father had been pushing her to find the Madre Vena, and Katelyn wondered if she had done so. After all, she had lied to Katelyn about having one of the books they’d been looking for. All that time hunting for it, and Cordelia had kept it hidden in her room all along. Maybe that was why Cordelia had been so certain that the Hellhound was real
. Maybe she’d seen it.

  Katelyn wanted that book. She wanted to know why Cordelia had lied to her.

  And if the Hellhound’s real, I want to know how to steer clear of it.

  She didn’t want to be its third victim. Whispers had gone around school that Haley and Becky had died horribly. Apparently Sergeant Lewis had said he’d never seen anything like it and the morgue technician had thrown up when he’d seen Becky’s mangled body.

  She thought again about just bailing. And then, as usual, her resolve crumbled when she imagined being hunted down. They might do something to her grandfather or Trick in retaliation. She didn’t know if she was being a coward, or a hero, or a realist. At night, lying on her bed, she stared at the statue of her mother in the moonlight, and wondered what it felt like to completely give up. Her mom would never have given up.

  But she wasn’t sure where the line was drawn between giving up and giving in.

  ~

  On Wednesday morning, her grandfather looked at her across the breakfast table with a strange look on his face. He took a sip of coffee and tapped the table idly with his fingertips. “You okay?” he asked.

  She sat up straighter and pasted on a smile. “Yeah, fine. You?”

  “Same.”

  But she looked at him more closely and realized that he seemed tired, more so than she’d ever noticed before. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

  He paused while he sipped his cup of coffee. “The break-in is still bothering me,” he admitted after he put the cup down.

  She blinked at him in surprise. She wasn’t used to him being so straight with her. Should she have somehow known that he’d been upset? Had the weight of what had happened to her made her oblivious to other people’s concerns?

  She sipped her coffee as she formulated her response, remembering her own feelings when she’d realized Justin had taken her phone.

  “Were the paintings valuable?” she asked.

  Mordecai took another sip of coffee, and light streaming through the curtains filigreed the gray stubble on his chin. “One of them was a landscape I painted for your grandmother. The other was just something my father picked up at an estate sale when I was a kid. No money in either of them.”