The Better to Bite

  But Sissy was lost.

  Lost.

  I ran now and my side burned and cold breaths heaved from my lungs. Closer, closer…the faster I ran, the more the pull jerked inside of me. Sissy wasn’t far now, she wasn’t—

  “Pull back!” My dad’s yell as he grabbed my arm.

  I stumbled to a stop. I’d done it again. Gone in too far, gotten hooked on the one who was lost.

  His hold tightened, and he lightly shook me. “Baby, don’t you smell it?”

  It?

  Then the smell hit me. Heavy, thick, rotting. I covered my mouth even as my eyes widened in horrified understanding. I knew this smell.

  I’d smelled death twice before.

  Chapter Eight

  I wrapped my arms around my body as my dad slipped forward. I didn’t want to see this. There were some images that just wouldn’t get out of your mind, and I realized this would be one of them.

  “Sonofabitch.” My dad’s snarl, and I knew we’d found Sissy.

  He stormed back toward me even as he yanked out his small radio. “Jon, dammit, yeah, I found her.”

  I heard the crackle of static and the excited yell that came from Deputy Jon Parker.

  But my dad cut him off. “Don’t tell the parents yet.” He exhaled and rubbed a hand over his face. “And get the ME out here.”

  No more excited yell. Stark silence.

  “Pull back the search teams,” my dad directed. “I’ll meet you all at base camp.”

  “Yes, sir.” Deputy Jon’s muted answer.

  I hugged myself tighter. I hadn’t found Sissy soon enough. Again. Another body on me. Another death on my conscience.

  My dad lowered the radio and closed the distance between us. “You okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Liar.” But he said the word like it was an endearment.

  He was right. I was a liar. “If I’d found her yesterday, she would have been—”

  He shook his head. “From the looks of things, she’s been dead for a while. At least two days.” My dad knew dead bodies. He’d worked real close with the ME in Chicago on so many cases.

  All that time. Sissy had been alone in the woods.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t go there.

  I cleared my throat. “So…F-Friday night?”

  It was his turn to nod. “The ME will tell us for sure, but based on the lividity of the body, it looks that way.”

  I didn’t want to know about lividity. I didn’t want Sissy to be dead. “What happened to her?”

  He caught my arm and started leading me away from the scene. “Baby, you don’t want to know.”

  I stopped walking. “I’m not a baby anymore.” I lifted my chin. “I was attacked by a wolf on Friday night. Sissy died on Friday night. I want to know—”

  “Her throat was ripped out.” Flat, but his eyes burned with fury. “The size of those slashes, hell, yeah, I’m looking for an animal. One damn vicious beast.”

  I swallowed. “She ran from the party, and she ran right into the wolf.”

  The big, bad wolf that waited in the woods.

  “No.” He pushed me forward again. “Not right from the party. Sissy was wearing a night gown.”

  I blinked.

  His gaze swept the woods and tension kept his jaw tight.

  “A night gown?” I repeated slowly. But if she’d been wearing her gown, she’d gotten home safely. She'd made it back after the party.

  Then she'd gone back into the dark woods.

  “I want to know why the hell that girl was out in those woods.” We were walking faster now. My dad was nearly running, and I was tripping as I tried to keep up with him. “I want to know if she was alone.”

  Because reason number one a pretty girl went into the woods when her parents were out of town…to meet a boy.

  “If someone was with her, I damn well want to know who left her alone to die.”

  A twig snapped. My head whipped up. Rafe stood there, staring at me and my dad with a furrow between his brows. “You found her.” No question.

  Rafe started to push by us. My dad caught his shoulders. “Son, you don’t want to see that.”

  No, no one wanted to see what was left of Sissy. Unfortunately, her parents would have to see their baby again. They’d be the ones to identify her, and the ones that would never forget the last image of their little girl.

  As we headed into the clearing, I saw Sissy’s folks. Hope still lit their faces. I knew my dad wanted to be the one to tell them about the sad discovery. And he’d have to tell them soon, before the ME pulled up.

  My dad eased away from me. I hunched my shoulders and watched him go. Rafe stayed beside me, silent.

  My dad straightened his spine. He took off his hat. Held it between his hands. I couldn’t hear his words to the Hamilton’s, but I saw when the mother broke. Her knees gave way, and she would have fallen right to the ground if my dad hadn’t lunged forward and caught her.

  Sissy’s dad just stood there, shaking his head, as tears streamed down his face.

  Then I heard his words, because they were rising, louder and louder. “She’s just lost…she’s just lost!”

  But Sissy wasn’t lost anymore. I’d found her. Too late.

  “How did you know?” Rafe’s gruff question.

  My dad took the mother inside the house. Sissy’s dad stared at the woods, with his hands clenched into fists.

  “How’d you know where to find her?” Rafe demanded, and anger rumbled in his voice.

  Anger? I glanced over at him. “We got lucky. We were out scouting in the woods, and…we just got lucky.”

  Doubt stared back at me from his gaze. “The way you got lucky when you found Brent’s house on Friday night?”

  “Yes.” I said the lie when I looked him right in the eye.

  Then he called it.

  “Bullshit, Anna Lambert.”

  “Rafe!” His father’s voice.

  But Rafe didn’t move. “You’ve got secrets, don’t you, Anna?”

  I was starting to think everyone in this town had them. Some of those secrets were even scarier than mine.

  His bright stare searched mine. “How do you do it? How does it work?”

  My lips pressed together. For once, I’d actually like to tell someone. He’d seen what I could do, so he’d have to believe me. But then what would happen? Could I really take the chance? What if he shared my story all over school and everyone talked about what a freak I was?

  No, thank you.

  I turned away. I walked slowly and surely back to my dad’s car. Then I slid inside and slammed the door shut.

  When I looked down, I realized my nails had dug into my palms, leaving little half-moon gouges.

  A few minutes later, the ME arrived and the deputies headed with him into the woods.

  Sissy Hamilton wasn’t lost any longer.

  ***

  The next two days passed in a blur. Everyone at school was talking about Sissy. Freshmen were crying, walking down the hallways with red-rimmed eyes and runny noses.

  Upperclassmen were shocked. They talked in excited whispers and spent more time with the freshmen—time that didn’t include pranks and teasing.

  Valerie came back. She must have known Sissy because she was one of the girls with the red-rimmed eyes.

  I didn’t cry. I know I should have, but when I thought of Sissy, I just felt kind of hollow.

  And guilty.

  I’d felt guilty before, when I arrived too late to help Caitlin. What was the point of me having this gift (AKA curse) if I couldn’t actually help anyone? Finding dead bodies wasn’t my idea of helping anyone.

  Sissy Hamilton hadn’t even made it to her sixteenth birthday. She’d deserved to live.

  Just as Caitlin had.

  With Sissy…I just couldn’t shake the feeling that her death was my fault. That wolf had gone running from me…to her.

  It had to be the same wolf, right? I mean just how many crazy wolves could
be running free out there in the woods of Haven?

  A day after we found Sissy, my dad recovered the remains of another hiker. Only with this one, the ME noticed the deep scratches on the bones. Scratches that had come from claw marks.

  The ME, a guy my dad called Donovan, hadn’t been especially surprised by the marks. He’d said there were plenty of hungry animals stalking the woods.

  But I didn’t think we were dealing with just any animal.

  The wolf was making a habit of killing in Haven’s woods.

  When I left school that day, I took the bus home. Rafe hadn’t exactly been appearing with an offer of a ride lately, so I was stuck with bus duty whether I liked it or not. I went home, I did my homework, then I stared at the woods until darkness fell.

  I stared and I stared.

  Then I heard the gunshots.

  My blood iced even as I leapt to my feet. The blasts came again, thundering, echoing through the woods. I grabbed the wooden railing on the porch and strained to see through the dark.

  An engine growled. My head whipped to the right, and I saw my dad’s car racing toward the house. Dust and gravel flew in his wake. The car shuddered to a stop, and he leapt out in the next instant.

  “Get inside, Anna!” His roar. My dad did that—when he was scared, he tended to sound like a bear.

  I inched back a few steps. “Dad, what’s going on?” Some hunters, that’s all. South Carolina had to be full of hunters, and just because I didn’t know when the hunting seasons started and ended—

  “Mark Hamilton and a bunch of his friends are after the wolf.”

  Mark Hamilton. Sissy’s dad.

  “They’re drunk, baby, and I got a tip that they’re out shooting up the woods.”

  Cause drinking and guns always mixed.

  “Rafe’s dad—”

  Ah, I guess that had been his tipster.

  “—he said they’re tracking down from the Hamilton house. Damn fools. If they aren’t careful, they’ll wind up shooting somebody.”

  I was in front of our door. My bare toes curled over the wooden porch.

  He exhaled on a rough, frustrated sigh. “Stray bullets can hit anywhere. They know better.” He stepped closer to the porch and the light hit him.

  I realized my dad had on a bright orange vest—and he was carrying a rifle.

  “Go inside, now, and don’t come out until I come back.”

  Wait. Hold up. “You’re not just going in the woods?” I asked him, heart racing. “Dad, they could shoot you!”

  “And I’ve got to stop them before they hurt someone else!”

  I grabbed the door knob. “You’re going in alone?” Bad, bad plan. Dad knew how important it was to always have back up close by.

  A four-wheeler burst from the woods then. Deputy Jon Parker bent low over the handlebars, and his handsome face was locked in lines of tension. Jon was only a few years older than me, but from what I’d overheard before, I knew my dad thought the guy was the best deputy in the department. For my dad’s sake, I hoped he was right.

  I noticed that Jon had on an orange vest, too.

  “No,” my Dad said, “I’m not going in alone. I’ve got my deputies scouring those woods for them.”

  Deputy Jon inclined his head toward me.

  I eased inside the house. “Be careful!”

  But he was already gone.

  And I could hear the retort of gunfire.

  Gunfire…and the howl of wolves.

  I hurried inside and slammed the door shut behind me.

  ***

  A long, mournful wail jerked my attention from the Trig book on the kitchen table. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t into Trig right then. I kept peeking out the window and hoping to see some sign of my dad.

  So far…nothing.

  The howl had me rising and creeping once more to the window. I pulled back the curtain and peered outside. I didn’t see anything.

  I turned away.

  Seconds later, something slammed into the front door, and I gasped.

  Hard, heavy. The whole house seemed to shake with the impact.

  Very, very slowly, I turned back around.

  Once more, I looked outside, but I couldn’t see anything. From this angle, I wouldn’t be able to see what was on the other side of that door.

  I crept toward the door and risked a fast glance out of the peephole.

  Nothing.

  But…

  I could hear a faint scratching. Like nails, digging into the wood.

  I jumped back, then I turned and ran as fast as I could for the closet in my dad’s room.

  I knew my dad. Knew how he thought. Knew where he hid his weapons. It took me about three seconds to shove a chair into his closet and climb up on it to find the back-up gun he’d tucked onto the top shelf.

  Dad had taught me to use a gun, and I really was a very good shot. I loaded the bullets, climbed down, and carefully inched back toward the living room.

  I heard the scratches instantly. Scratches and a low whine.

  An animal in pain. Possibly dying. But weren’t those the most dangerous types of animals?

  I didn’t open the door. “Get out of here!” I yelled, hoping my voice would scare the beast away. “Just get out of here!”

  I didn’t hear the sound of fleeing feet, but I did hear… “Anna.”

  My name, so soft, barely slipping past that locked door.

  Then… “Help me.”

  Not an animal. Oh, crap. I kept my hold on the gun and fumbled with the lock. I jerked and twisted and the door creaked opened, not too much. Just a few inches.

  The porch light fell on his dark hair.

  “Rafe?”

  He was lying on his stomach, with his arms outstretched toward the door. He was naked, totally naked, and blood gushed from wounds on his back.

  I dropped to my knees. “Rafe! What happened?” But I knew what those wounds were on his back. No way could I mistake gunshot wounds, not with my dad’s job.

  He grabbed for my leg, and that was when I realized something was very, very wrong with his hands. Because he didn’t just have hands. Long, thick claws—actual freaking claws—burst from his fingertips. Claws like an animal would have. Not fingernails like a human should possess.

  I stopped breathing.

  His head lifted, and he looked up at me. His face…it was different, too. His cheeks were sharper, his jaw longer, his whole face thinner. And his eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were bright yellow. Glowing.

  The wolf’s eyes.

  “Help…me.” The voice wasn’t his. That hard, desperate grating seemed more like an animal’s growl than anything else.

  His claws were wrapped around my knee. His eyes burned into mine. His blood dripped onto my porch.

  I lifted my gun and pointed it right between his eyes. “What are you?” But I knew—I knew.

  He stared back at me with a wolf’s eyes.

  Voices shouted in the distance. More gunfire echoed.

  The hunters had nailed their wolf. Did they even realize it?

  “Not me,” he grated out with that broken voice. “Didn’t kill…anyone.”

  “What. Are. You?” My hands were sweating, but my hold on the weapon was rock-steady.

  His lips pulled back as he grimaced in pain, and I got a good look at his teeth. His canines were long and sharp—longer and far sharper than they’d been before.

  The better to—

  “Please.” His head fell onto the porch as his body began to shudder.

  My gaze darted to the darkness of the woods. Crap, crap, crap. “If you so much as try to bite or claw me, I will shoot you.”

  But Rafe wasn’t talking. His body shuddered and twisted and as I watched, the claws began to recede and normal fingernails slid into their place.

  The voices were coming closer. Those shouts were so much clearer now.

  Not just voices. Dogs. Barking, yapping dogs that were tracking—Rafe?

  Gritting my teeth,
I kicked open the front door. I put the gun down—had to do it—and then I grabbed Rafe’s arms. The claws were completely gone now. Thank goodness.

  Werewolf. He’s a freaking werewolf.

  I yanked. The guy didn’t move. He weighed a ton.

  I yanked again. There we go. Now we were moving a few inches. I pulled some more. More. His body slipped over the threshold.

  I heaved and yanked and tried not to think about the extra damage I was doing to him. The hunters were too close now. The dogs sounded frantic as they followed the scent of blood right to my doorstep.

  There wasn’t any time to waste. As soon as Rafe was clear of the door, I grabbed for the gun, lunged over him and landed on the porch. I reached back with my left hand and slammed the front door shut behind me.

  Taking a deep breath, I jumped up, swung out with my fist, and shattered the porch light.

  Instantly, I was plunged into darkness. I bounded down the steps.

  The dogs snarled and barked.

  Come and get me.

  Lights burst from the woods as the hunters swarmed. A few of them had flashlights, and they directed them right on me.

  “Call off your dogs!” I screamed because those dogs were making a beeline right for me—I had Rafe’s scent on me—and for my house. My house…where all of that nice blood covered my porch.

  Don’t let them shine the lights up there. Don’t let them see.

  There were four hunters. All armed with rifles. They could see me since I was in their bright pool of light, but I couldn’t tell a thing about them.

  Two men hauled the dogs back.

  “Girl, you shouldn’t be out here.”

  I knew that voice. Sissy’s dad. His voice still shook with grief and rage.

  “This is my home,” I said. The gun was hidden behind my back. For now. If one of those snarling dogs charged at me, the gun would come out. “You’re the ones who don’t need to be here! My dad is looking for you and when he finds—”

  The familiar grind of an engine reached my ears, and I almost sagged in relief. Seconds later, the four-wheeler burst from the woods. “Dad!”

  He leapt from the four-wheeler and jumped in front of me. “I damn well know you are not pointing your weapons at my daughter.”

  Another four wheeler burst onto the scene, its bright lights bobbing. Deputy Jon’s radio crackled as he called for backup.