Wolf Hunt (Book 2) (17 page)

"She'll be okay. One of the werewolves is her dad."

"Oh. That's not something I expected you to say. I don't know how I feel about that. Is Lou okay?"

Lou certainly didn't look okay. He'd gone completely pale and was sweating like crazy. George handed him the dishtowel. "Hey, buddy, tie this around your hand. Try to stop the bleeding."

"I can't tie it with one hand."

"Then hold it against it."

Lou pressed the towel against his stump. It turned red right away. This was bad. George was in awful shape himself, but they really needed to stop that bleeding or Lou's life could be in danger.

"Stay with me, Lou. As soon as we get out of this neighborhood, I'll find a place where we can lay low, and we'll get you patched up."

Lou let go of the towel so that he could wipe the sweat off his forehead. "This is kicking my ass," he said. "And we're leaving a girl to die."

"She's with her dad!"

"Her dad is in the middle of a killing spree."

"Maybe the killing spree is over! Dewey's men are dead and the cops are dead, so maybe that's all the killing they needed to do this evening! Do you want me to turn around so we can get ground up some more? On the way there you were saying that you didn't
want
to go, and now that it went badly, you want to go back? Make up your frickin' mind!"

"I wasn't saying that I wanted to go back. I was just saying that we were leaving her to die. I'm sad about it but not saying that we should do otherwise."

"Fair enough."

* * *

"Where'd they go?" demanded Shane, changing into his human form as soon as he walked back into the living room. He spat out some blood. Though his molar hurt, he had to admit that it was a good kind of pain, an electrifying pain that let him know that he was more alive than he'd ever been. Good thing his mouth had been in wolf-form when the bullet hit, or it would've gone through his cheek first.

Robyn pointed to the kitchen. "That way."

"And you let them go?"

"I'm guarding Ally!"

"Crabs, go after them!"

"Can they be my victims?"

Shane didn't answer right away. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, you can kill them if you absolutely have to. Try to save them for me, though."

Robyn shook her head. "Crabs, no. You listen to me. You go after them, and you kill them both. Do
not
save them for Shane. Kill them. We've got Ally, and that's what's important, so we need to drop the revenge and just get out of here."

It kind of surprised Shane that he didn't want to slap the shit out of her for saying that. But he was on a high right now, better than anything he'd ever felt in his life. He couldn't believe that he'd sustained himself for so long with the occasional murder of a filthy, reeking vagrant. His whole body tingled. He didn't even care about the pain, or the fact that later he'd have to spend some time digging bullets out of his flesh, or the fact that he'd almost surely have to leave his old life behind forever. Why had he ever cared about his ridiculous job? He felt absolutely fucking great.

So great that he didn't even need to kill George and Lou himself. As long as they died, who cared?

Okay, as long as they died
horribly
, who cared?

Crabs changed back into a wolf and ran into the kitchen.

Shane licked some blood off his fingers, resisting the urge to burst into hysterical laughter. God, this felt fantastic. This is how they were going to live from now on. Free. No supervisors, nobody clucking their tongue because he'd taken a forty-seven minute lunch instead of forty-five, no tedious meetings or smokers or mandatory baby showers. They'd live as wolves, hunting prey whenever they felt like it. No rules. No responsibility.

He reached out his hand to Ally. "Come with us. It'll be great, I promise you."

Ally shook her head.

"I understand that this is all kind of overwhelming right now, but you belong with us. Do you think your mom is going to be able to help you figure this all out? This will all work out, I swear to you, but we really need to get going."

"No."

Shane clenched his fists. He suddenly realized that he had a great big erection, right there in front of his daughter. Luckily, what remained of his pants was covering the actual skin, and she'd just have to get over this kind of thing.

"Ally, I know you're scared," said Robyn. "That's totally normal. I was scared out of my mind when I first discovered my power, and I didn't have my dad to help me understand it. We can train you."

"Get out of here," said Ally. "Just go."

"We can't do that," said Robyn. "So let me explain this another way. Four police officers, good men with families of their own, are dead. More of them will be on the way. If they show up here before we're gone, they will die. Are you okay with that? Are you okay with more innocent people dying?"

Ally began to sob again, but she stood up.

"No!" Peggy stood up as well. "You touch her, and I'll—"

Robyn only changed her index finger, enough for it to sprout a talon. With a quick flick of her hand, she slashed it across Peggy's neck. Peggy's eyes went wide and she grabbed at her throat, blood spurting between her fingers.

"She doesn't need you anymore," Robyn told Peggy, as she fell.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Crabs Unleashed

Blood.

Bloody blood.

Georgie and Louie had leaked on the kitchen floor. It smelled delicious. But Crabs could not lap it up right now. No. Not now. He would get more blood from the source. Right from their wounds. Would he drink from their existing wounds? Or make brand new ones? Perhaps he would do both. Lick the existing blood until it was all gone. Then make more blood appear with his teeth.

He would think of Ally while he was doing it.

That was not a good thing to think about. Shane might be mad if he knew. These were his own thoughts. Thoughts for his own mind. And what Shane did not know would not hurt him. It might hurt Ally.

Shane knew. Crabs thought he knew.

Crabs would not do anything to Ally while Shane was there.

He was only joking with himself about Ally. He would not hurt her. He would not want to hurt her. If she was bleeding from the belly he would not kiss her to make her all better.

The men were not in the kitchen so Crabs left the kitchen.

They were not in the backyard.

He knew which way they had gone.

Crabs ran around to the front of the house. A van was driving away. They were in it.

He could not outrun a van on the highway. But he could outrun a van that was on a street lined with pretty houses. The van was not driving as fast as a van could go. He could catch it.

The people inside were all filled with blood. He would drain them like a million mosquitoes.

It would not take long to go back into sweet Ally's house and tell Shane. They could chase the van together. It would not take long, but it might take long enough that Crabs would lose them. He did not want to lose them. He would go alone. And get all the blood for himself. And the meat. And the bones. He liked to gnaw on bones. He liked to imagine that the bones were still attached to a skeleton woman, who screamed and screamed as he gnawed on her leg.

Crabs had already started chasing the van before he even decided that he would not go back for Shane.

He wished he could fuck Robyn.

Shane would let him. They had talked about this. Robyn would not. He had not talked about this to her. He believed Shane when he said that she would not.

He had almost caught up to the van.

He was not hungry. But he could eat.

* * *

"George! Werewolf!"

George checked the rear-view mirror. "Where?"

"Right behind us," said Eugene. "Drive faster!"

George accelerated. He wasn't much concerned with witnesses at this point, but he definitely did not want to careen off the street and crash into somebody's home. "How close?"

"He's
right
here
!"

"Is he running on all fours?"

"No! Up like a man! But he's fast!"

George slammed on the brakes.

Nothing happened.

"Why did you stop?" asked Eugene. "You're supposed to be driving faster, faster, faster!"

"He was supposed to smack into the van!"

"He didn't!"

There was a loud thump as something, most likely a werewolf, jumped onto the roof of the van.

"That's him! That's him!" shouted Eugene.

Lou quickly rolled up his window. A streak of Mr. Dewey's blood remained on the glass.

"It's okay! This isn't the first werewolf I've had on the roof of a van!" George accelerated again, then slammed the brakes, trying to dislodge the beast. He tried that a couple more times, but it wasn't working.

"They can break windows with their hands!" Eugene said. "I saw them do it!"

"Shut up! I'm trying to hear if it's moving around up there!"

George did the brake-and-accelerate thing again. No werewolf tumbled off the roof.

"Screw it," said George. "Let's see how well it hangs on when I'm doing eighty."

George floored the gas pedal, building up speed for the next couple of blocks, then took a super-sharp right turn at the corner.

There was a scraping sound on the roof, then the wolfman fell off and struck the pavement, landing on its side.

"Ha!" shouted George. "Suck it, Crabs!"

"He's getting back up," Eugene said.

This would probably be a good time to drive away. But it was an even better time to try to squish a werewolf under the tires of the van. George slammed on the brakes, put the van into reverse, then floored the accelerator again.

The van shot backwards, headed straight for Crabs. The werewolf stood there, unmoving, as if daring them to try to run it over.

Right before the van would have smashed into him, Crabs leapt up.

Another
thump
on the roof.

"He's on the roof again!" Eugene shouted.

"I know!"

"Why'd you let him do that?"

"I wasn't trying to let him do that!"

"Why didn't we just drive away?"

"Because if he hadn't leapt back onto the roof, he'd be dead! We'd have one less werewolf to deal with! Do the math!"

George braked, put the van into drive, and then accelerated again.

"I'm not trying to be ungrateful for what you did for me," said Eugene. "You saved my life. All I'm saying is that the werewolf had stopped being on the roof, and now he's on the roof again."

"You shut the fuck up," said George. "You do not have permission to question my choices! If Lou wants to yell at me because the werewolf is back on the roof, he's allowed to do that. But I just met you and I pulled you out of a hellhole, so all you get to do is sit back there in your cage and keep your mouth closed no matter what I do! Got it?"

"I don't like that you called it
my
cage."

"
The
cage. Now stop talking. If you see one of the other werewolves coming at us, you can alert me to that, and if you see a cop car that I didn't notice, feel free to otherwise speak up, but if you have criticism about what I'm doing here, even if you think it's constructive criticism, keep it to yourself. If you really need to get it out of your system, whisper it to yourself, or make a mental note so that we can discuss it at a later time, but right now, in this van, your right to make any comments about the way I'm handling our escape from this peril has been revoked. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Eugene. "You're really verbal when you get upset, did you know that?"

George slammed on the brakes again. This time the werewolf did not tumble off the roof. George floored the gas pedal. He was paying more attention to dislodging the werewolf than to the route he was taking, so they were still in Ally's neighborhood. He probably deserved some criticism for that.

"Lou, here's what we're going to do," said George. "Roll down your window. Be ready for him to reach inside, and when he does, you grab his arm and yank him off the roof."

Lou nodded, but he didn't actually reach for the window handle. His whole face was drenched with sweat. Even his beard looked soaked with perspiration. And he was pale, even by the standards of a guy who'd spent a lot of time hanging out in a shack in Canada. He looked absolutely horrible, like he might just keel over at any second.

"Lou? Lou, you still with us?"

"Yeah," said Lou. "I'm okay."

"You look like crap."

"Do I?" Lou pulled down the sun visor. He glanced at it, then pushed it back up. "There's no mirror on that one."

"Trust me. You look awful."

"I feel awful."

"We'll get you help. If we have to take you to a regular hospital, screw the consequences, that's what we'll do. Just stick with me, okay. Think non-bleeding thoughts."

"Yeah."

"But my idea about rolling down the window and yanking the werewolf off the roof when he reaches inside, that's still workable, right?"

Lou smiled and closed his eyes.

George suddenly felt violently sick to his stomach. This was not the kind of situation where Lou should be closing his eyes without having been hit by a tranquilizer dart. George knew that his partner was in bad shape and that they needed to get the bleeding under control soon, but this seemed to be far more serious than he'd thought. Lou wasn't bleeding
that
bad from his stump.

"Lou! Eyes open! Don't fade on me!"

Lou opened his eyes. They were glassy and unfocused. "I'm not going to die on you, George."

"If you do, I'll kick your—" George slammed on the brakes. "—ass!"

The werewolf fell off the side of the van.

It wouldn't take much to run him over. A good three-point turn and he'd be smushed underneath the tires. Or George could at least run over his leg. Let's see him jump back on the van with a crushed leg.

No. George floored the accelerator yet again and the van sped off.

"He's not on the roof anymore!" said Eugene.

"I know!"

"Nice work!"

"Is he following us?"

"Yeah."

"Close?"

"Not as close as before. I think you're losing him. Yeah, you're losing him. Just keep driving fast. He stopped. Yeah, he's done chasing us. I think we're clear!"

* * *

Crabs stopped chasing the van.

Damn them to Hades.

He could have had all that blood to himself. Now he had to share.

He had been frightened while on top of the van. He had not expected to feel this way. He was a werewolf. Werewolves were not afraid to be on vans in motion.

But he had been. He had felt unsteady. Instead of leaping onto the front hood and smashing through the windshield, he had only focused on trying not to fall off.

It was a waste.

Now he would have to return to Ally's house and tell Shane that he had let them get away. Shane would be furious.

Crabs noticed that a woman was standing in her front yard. She was staring at him. Her mouth hung open.

Shane would not want Crabs to leave witnesses.

Crabs got the woman before she could run back into her house, and, oh, she was scrumptious.

* * *

"I'm sorry I was a jerk about the werewolf on the roof," said Eugene. He sniffled. "I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes."

"It's totally fine," said George. They'd finally left Ally's neighborhood. George could hear sirens, but as long as none of them were directly behind him, he was feeling confident about their ability to get out of Tropper.

"How's Lou?"

"He'll be okay. We've been through some insane shit together, and he'll be..."

The van was dark, so George refused to be terrified by the fact that Lou didn't seem to be breathing. He was breathing just fine. George simply couldn't see him in the dark. C'mon, how often could you actually see people breathing?

"Lou?" he asked, poking his partner in the side. "Lou, wake up. You don't get to sleep while the rest of us work. Hey, Lou! Wake your lazy ass up! Seriously, Lou, you're embarrassing yourself in front of our guest. Wake up."

George kept his eye on the road, but reached over and pressed his fingers against Lou's neck.

The lack of a pulse didn't mean anything, because George's fingers were cold and even if there
was
a pulse, he might not be able to feel it. Or even find it. What was he, a doctor? He didn't know how to find a pulse.

He pressed his thumb against Lou's wrist.

"Is everything okay?" Eugene asked.

"
You shut the fuck up
!" George shouted. "Just shut up! Stop talking! You're going to drive me out of my fucking mind! I should've left you to be sliced up some more, you fucking freak!"

And then, for the third time in his adult life, George began to cry.