Witch Wolf

by Winter Pennington

  Rupert’s brakes didn’t seem to be working. He skidded across the dirt and fell on his ass with a heavy thud. “I can’t run like you do!” he hissed, getting to his feet. “You’re going to throw me into a fucking coronary!”

  “Rosalin Walker was one of the wolves in the clearing,” I said.

  His eyes went cold. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” I said as he stood and brushed himself off. It was kind of useless considering we were covered in small twigs and bits of leaves. “Obviously it’s her pack, but what else?” I shook my head. “I need to find out.”

  Was it suspicious that a strange wolf had sought my investigative services? It wasn’t too suspicious for me. What was suspicious was the fact that the same wolf and her pack met in the woods near the crime scene the police had called me in on.

  Rupert unlocked the car doors manually, and my respect for him grew just a little bit more at the small gesture. He was smart enough not to unlock them with the keypad, which would send nice bright headlights blinking through our corner of the woods. Then again, he’d started his career as something similar to a government assassin. He had to be smart.

  Chapter Nine

  It isn’t unusual for Rupert and me to sit in silence. Our silence now, though, had more to do with us trying to work out different scenarios than not wanting to chitchat.

  “What’s the plan?” he asked finally. “This is your hunt.”

  “Well, we could follow her, but in order to do that we’ve got to figure out where she’ll be. There’s got to be someone driving a car.”

  “Do you think we should try and figure out where they parked?”

  “That would be a start.” I leaned back in my seat. “How are we going to do that without getting spotted ourselves?”

  Rupert leaned over and reached toward me. I startled and backed up as much as the seat would allow. He laughed. “Chill out, I just need to get something out from under your seat. I’m not trying to grope at you or anything.”

  I nodded, still cautious and caught off guard. “Instincts,” I explained. “You’re reaching into my territory. Warn me next time, or you might get hit.” I settled back down.

  “Is it that bad with you guys?”

  I moved out of the way so he could reach under the seat. “It can be. Usually, I can control it, but if you catch me off guard I can’t guarantee which response you’re going to get.”

  “Flight or fight?” he asked as half of his arm disappeared beneath the chair.

  “Yes,” I said, watching him curiously. “You better not tell me there’s a bomb under there.”

  “Nope.” He grunted and retrieved the item at last. “They’re better than the scope,” he said, handing me binoculars. They were heavy in my hands.

  “I don’t carry bombs around,” he said. “There are grenades in a bag under one of the back seats, though.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  He looked out the window. “Do you think you could track them by yourself without being seen?”

  I tapped the edge of the binoculars on my thigh. “Most likely. Why? What are you thinking?”

  “I could drive down the road and find some cover to park under. You could go track them and find Rosalin’s car. That way, you don’t have to worry about me not being able to keep up.”

  It didn’t sound like that bad a plan, but there was one problem. “What happens if I spot the car and it takes me twenty minutes to get back to you, let alone find you if shit hits the fan?”

  If he hadn’t been wearing the oil, I could have found him if something happened. Since he was, it would make it more difficult for me to track him.

  “I could wedge the van deeper into the woods?”

  I looked at the trees so closely knit together. “You’ll scratch the van up and make too much noise.”

  He pointed at the corner of the windshield.

  “I could park it between those trees right there.”

  There was a break in the trees that I hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t much of a break, but it would be enough to hide a small car. The problem was, we weren’t in a small car, but if Rupert was confident that he could do it, I wouldn’t doubt him. He’d taught me a lot in the past several years and I respected the fact that he had a lot more experience than I did. Granted, my trust in anyone’s judgment only goes so far.

  I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. I turned to tell Rupert to wait in the car when I saw the headlights at the far end of the road. I ducked down in my seat. “Shit, duck!”

  Rupert ducked. “What?”

  “There,” I said, lifting the binoculars to my eyes as soon as the light passed. I had good eyesight, but lycanthropy didn’t grant me a bird’s-eye view. The binoculars helped, even if they did cast a sick green glow. I instinctively aimed them at the driver’s side mirror. If I was going to see who was driving, that was where I needed to look. Unless they didn’t adjust their mirrors. If that was the case, I was screwed.

  The face of the driver was familiar. It was the man that had been wearing the baggy jeans in the clearing.

  I checked the passenger’s side, and Rosalin’s profile came into view.

  I waited until I saw the car, a Cavalier, slow for the stop sign ahead. “Start the van, and follow them.”

  “And if we get spotted?” he asked but started the van and put it in reverse.

  “Then we do what we do best.”

  “Which would be?”

  “Confrontation.”

  Rupert’s version of a mad scientist’s laugh filled the van.

  It was so horrible—I couldn’t help it.

  I laughed. It wasn’t until my vision went blurry with tears that I wiped my eyes and shook my head.

  Rupert followed about four car lengths behind the Cavalier. It wasn’t until he’d sped up and navigated the van onto the highway that he flipped on the lights. We were three cars behind the one we were following. Rupert got into the far left lane. From there we were able to keep an eye on the car cruising down the middle lane. There wasn’t too much traffic on a Tuesday night, but there was enough to provide cover.

  I looked around the seat I was sitting in. “Surely,” I said, breaking the long, tense silence,“you’ve got some CDs in here to listen to?”

  Rupert spared a glance at me. “Check the glove compartment or on your side of the door.”

  I opened the glove compartment and my fingers curled around something long and square shaped. Curious, I withdrew it from the glove box. There was a little button on it. I pressed the button and jumped as a spark of electricity zapped from the end closest to my body.

  “Shit,” I said.

  “Leave it alone, Kass.”

  “Right.” I put the thing back where it belonged. I don’t like electricity—at least not on my body. Arthur had once given me a flashlight at a crime scene. The incident taught me not to take flashlights from him, or anything that could potentially backfire on me. When I’d turned the flashlight on, it’d shocked the hell out of me, leaving currents of electricity tingling up and down my arm for five minutes afterward. Sensational? Yes. Did it feel good? No.

  I found a metallic CD case and unzipped it, flipping through pages of discs. It was a small case, and most of the music was either classical, heavy metal, or a combination of both. I plucked a Nightwish CD from the protective plastic and pushed it into the CD player. Rupert gave me a look before asking, “Nightwish?”

  “I’m not really in the mood for Mozart,” I said.

  He nodded. I skipped through the first few songs on the album and stopped on track six. The song “The Siren” blared through the speakers as we steadily followed the car Rosalin was in. It began weaving in and out of traffic.

  “It looks like they’re in a hurry to get somewhere.” I had to raise my voice over the music.

  “I’m not going to play leap frog,” Rupert said.

  “Then don’t.” I watched as the Cavalier cut another car off, i
n a hurry to change lanes.

  “I don’t think they’re on to us,” I said lightly.

  Rupert’s gaze remained intently on the road ahead. “I don’t either.”

  I leaned back in my seat, keeping my eyes on the car ahead and listening to the music to keep my mind from racing.

  We followed the car downtown using other cars as cover. It didn’t surprise me how busy it was. Downtown was Oklahoma City’s pride and joy. It was party central. The food was hellaciously over priced, and the booze flowed steadily. By the end of the night, half of the population was wasted and broke. It was so not my forte. The car turned into a small parking lot next to an old building. It looked like it had once been a hotel, but it was obvious that wasn’t what it was now. I blinked, gazing at the red and white sign that blazed brighter than the streetlights: THE TWO POINTS.

  “That’s cryptic,” I said, grateful I’d turned the music off before reaching the city. I was no longer in the mood to raise my voice. “What is it?” I asked. “I get this feeling that The Two Points doesn’t refer to natural land forms…”

  Rupert found a parking spot and waited for an SUV to pull in next to us. I had to turn in my seat to see the entrance and the line of people gathering outside. A man stood just outside the doors. From this distance I wasn’t able to see his face, but I could make out the swell of chest under his crossed arms. A woman walked up to him, dressed entirely in black and red Goth chic. The man next to her wore a black suit, complete with tails and a top hat. The bouncer nodded at the couple, pulling aside the rope and allowing them to go through. I looked at Rupert, still waiting for an answer. I was coming up with my own conclusion, and it wasn’t a conclusion I liked.

  “Don’t tell me this is the Vamp Club.” I made it a statement.

  “Then I won’t say anything.” He unbuckled his seat belt.

  “Morrigan’s curse take it,” I hissed. “If Rosalin is in league with the city’s vampires, we are going to be sorely outnumbered.”

  “Only if we make a direct attack,” Rupert said. “We’ll go in and pretend we’re having a merry time, but keep your eyes peeled.”

  There was a reason I liked hunting with Rupert. When I couldn’t come up with a good idea, he always had one. It worked both ways, and we both found the faults and leaks in one another’s plans. Neither of us took it personally; instead, we took it constructively. In fact, most of my training wasn’t thanks to Jake, the paranormal hunter who’d helped me get my certification—it was thanks to Rupert.

  Which is why I said, “We look like assassins, not Goths. I don’t think that will work.”

  “Then do something to look more Goth.” He drew a blade from his boot. “Hand the duffel bag to me.” I reached behind my seat and tossed the bag to him. He opened a side compartment and pulled out a plain black T-shirt. He cut the sleeves off and drew the knife down the length of the neck to leave a long slit in it.

  I looked at the line leading to the entrance of the club. It was slowly beginning to shorten, but there were still going to be about ten or so others in front of us. Something soft hit the side of my face and I looked down.

  I held the material up. “You’re kidding,” I said and looked at Rupert. He was now wearing the torn shirt. It was skintight and torn in all the places that would catch a straight woman’s eye, but more importantly, a vampire’s. The cut-off sleeves showed the muscles in his arms, and there were three cuts running across his chest and stomach. I’d never again doubt that Rupert worked out. He’d cut the neck of the shirt to show the line of his collarbone, and the pulse beating steadily in his throat.

  “Classy,” I said. “You’ll definitely distract someone tonight, but whether it’s heterosexual Goth chicks, gay Goth boys, or vampires, I’m not so sure.”

  Rupert laughed. “Always be prepared. Put the shirt on, Kass.” I looked down at the shirt. He turned away. The gesture was polite and respectful. The black fishnet shirt I held was not.

  “How did you have a shirt that would fit me?” I asked.

  He gave me one of his stubborn looks and said, “Let it go, Kassandra. It doesn’t matter.”

  I left it alone. When Rupert did not give an outright answer, it meant you weren’t going to get one. Of course, I wondered who the shirt had originally belonged to, but questioning Rupert about his personal life wouldn’t get me anywhere. I could smell the laundry detergent on the shirt. It was clean, so who was I to bitch? I took in a deep breath and shrugged out of my jacket. It took a few minutes to remove the wrist sheaths, the shoulder holster, and the small-of-the-back holster, but I managed. Lifting the thermal over my head, I let it fall to the floorboard. The fishnet slid over my small curves like a second skin. I could feel it clinging to my most intimate places and thanked the Goddess I was wearing a black bra.

  I left my jacket on the seat. The night air was cool, but not too cool. It would have been cold to me three years ago. I was always cold in what other people thought was comfortable weather. Now, the cold felt less harsh, as if my body had finally figured out that thing called body heat.

  It irked me that I couldn’t carry my guns or wrist sheaths. The only weapon I had was the boot knife. As if on cue, Rupert stepped out of the van at the same time I did. The van beeped as he locked the doors. I reached up to the high ponytail in my hair. I was about to take my hair down when I decided it was best to leave it up. We were going into a vampire club and leaving my neck exposed would probably help us blend in more. It was a dangerous game and we were left best undetected.

  We stood in line for about twenty minutes. The security guard at the door was tall and well-built, wearing a black tee-shirt that had the word “Security” written in red bleeding letters. His brown hair was cut short. I met his hazel eyes, handing him my ID. He handed it back with a nod and repeated the gesture with Rupert’s ID. He pulled back the rope and let us through.

  Chapter Ten

  I was right. The club had once been a hotel. We stood in the lobby, bathed in a warm glow of light. Beautifully carved black wooden lamps gave the room a cozy feeling. We passed a door with an Employees Only sign on it and continued until we stopped at a long counter that looked like black glass, sleek and reflective. A woman stood behind it. Her brown locks were pulled away from her face in a slick and professional style, pinned at the back of her head. Her face was thin and pale and she didn’t wear any makeup. A crimson satin vest cinched over a black blouse with a high collar made her look far more proper than she probably was out of those clothes.

  “How much?” Rupert asked.

  She smiled, and it was one of those good but fake professional smiles. A smile that said, “I’m only being courteous because they’re paying me to.” She told Rupert the price and tilted her head. The tilt of her head drew the high collar away from her neck, exposing a white bandage over her carotid artery.

  Rupert took the wallet out of his back pocket, counted a few bills, and handed them to her.

  Unlike most clubs that seemed fond of stamps and plastic bracelets, the woman held up two adjustable woven cloth bracelets with “The Two Points” on them. One bracelet was black. One bracelet was red.

  “Black or red?” she asked.

  Rupert offered an unusually charming smile. “What’s the difference?” he asked, curious.

  I too, wondered.

  “Red means you’re a donor. Black means you’re off-limits.”

  She held up her arm and pulled the sleeve down, revealing the red bracelet at her wrist.

  “Black,” I said. Rupert echoed me.

  The woman behind the counter laughed and handed us our don’t-you-try-to-fucking-bite-me bracelets.

  He adjusted the bracelet to fit his wrist, slipping the end of it through the little plastic buckle. “How do you know I won’t wear it again and try to sneak in?” The tone in his voice made me stop fiddling with my bracelet to look at him. He gave the woman a playful and almost flirtatious look.

  I rolled my eyes and buckled the bracelet.
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  “Because you have to go through security first.” She pointed out the obvious. If Security recognized a person and suspected they were trying to sneak in, chances were they’d either turn them away or ask to search. Rupert smiled again, but this time, it was a quick and embarrassed spread of lips. Kind of like, “Aw, shucks.”

  When he was done pretending to be just an idiot tourist, we headed in the direction of the large double doors at the far end of the lobby.

  A wave of pounding industrial music battered my ears as we hit the ballroom beyond. Energy slammed into me and I stumbled, turning and catching myself against the inside wall.

  Rupert reached out, as if he would try to help steady me. I shook my head.

  “I’m fine.”

  “What is it?”

  At the smell of sweat and arousal, the wolf stirred within me, pushing against the surface, stealing the breath from my lungs. I placed my hand flat against the concrete wall, trying to focus on my breathing. I drew in a slow breath. That was another mistake. There were so many smells—too many perfumes mingling with the salty scent of sweat and desire. I exhaled the breath through my mouth, eyelashes fluttering. I closed my eyes and saw the wolf inside my mind. She paced, back and forth, threatening to push against the surface. Her elongated ears swiveled and a growl trickled from her lips, from my human lips.

  My eyes flew open as Rupert took a step back. “Kass?”

  I had to shield. In order to shield, I had to get my breathing under control. I couldn’t breathe through my nose, but I could steady my breathing through my mouth. I closed my eyes, breathing in through my mouth, out through my mouth, focusing on visualizing a tall tower that would metaphysically contain the wolf.

  The wolf hit the wall of that tower and I clutched my side, sliding down the wall. I felt her eyes glaring at me. She thought one thing: Food. We were surrounded by so much food.