Wolf Hunt (Book 2) (20 page)

No foreplay. No lube. Within seconds of changing, Shane was thrusting away inside of her, while she snarled and writhed and ripped up the blanket with her claws.

Though George was all in favor of getting right down to business, this looked painful. It was the grossest thing he'd seen in a day that had been filled with one gross thing after another, but he couldn't look away.

Right now, Lou was lucky to be dead.

To make things even more awkward, George was sharing this closet with Tom and Betsy, an elderly couple who'd been kind enough to let an injured man into their home. They couldn't see what was happening and didn't know that there were werewolves involved, but they
did
know that there was violent fornicating happening right on the other side of their closet door, on their bed, and they both looked suitably horrified and appalled.

George hoped like hell that they wouldn't make any noise, although he was uncertain that he'd be able to remain silent himself if this nightmare didn't stop soon.

Robyn climaxed, unless she was faking it at an extremely high volume.

Shane followed immediately. He did it internally, thank Christ, or George would have reached up, grabbed a coat hanger, straightened out the hook, and used it to stab his eyes. In fact, if they didn't quiet down in the next few seconds, he might use one to pop his eardrums.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Eyeball Bleach

George couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Robyn changed back into a human before Shane withdrew. This was not information he wished to acquire in any form, whether a first-hand sighting or a second-hand anecdote, but he couldn't stop his mind from going there.

Fortunately, they separated before they changed back. Their clothes were in terrible shape. Which was a point of concern, since George was currently hiding in a closet, which contained clothes that they might want to steal.

Instead, with their scraps of clothes barely hanging off of them, Shane and Robyn left the room. They didn't even cuddle. Hell, Shane didn't even give her a quick, "Hey, thanks, babe," kiss.

George glanced over at Tom and Betsy. He'd done a lot of terrible things in his life, but never had George felt that he owed somebody an apology more than at this moment.

But he shouldn't speak. Alerting the werewolves to his presence because he wanted to apologize would not be the brightest thing he could do.

He heard the front door close as they left the house. They weren't even here to look for him. They just wanted a place to get it on.

"I am so very sorry," George whispered to the elderly couple. "I had no idea that was going to happen. I truly thought they were just coming in here to kill me."

Tom and Betsy had nothing to say.

"Don't leave the closet for at least a couple of hours," George told them. He figured that the werewolf danger would be over long before that, but he didn't want them calling the police.

"Yes, sir," said Tom. He'd looked nervous when George first knocked on his door, and he looked quite a bit more nervous now. He would be forever haunted by what he'd heard.

George slowly opened the closet door, which of course creaked loud enough to make George worry that Shane might have heard it from outside.

"Any chance you two have anything silver?" George asked. "A knife? Crucifix? Fork?"

Betsy shook her head. "Only my earrings."

"That probably won't cut it. I'm going to steal some of your stuff before I leave. Is that okay?"

* * *

"Did you kill him already?" Crabs asked.

"He wasn't in there," Shane said. "We looked."

Crabs narrowed his eyes and licked his lips. "You did other things."

"Shut up, Crabs," said Robyn.

"You went in there and had intercourse. Intercourse. We heard it, and I can—"

"I'm serious, Crabs," said Robyn. "If you keep talking, I will rip your jaw off. I mean that literally. Literally. I will literally tear your jaw off if I hear one more word about what you think we might have done in there."

Crabs shrugged. "I was not defining you by your choice. I am not fortunate enough to have a partner, or I would have done the same thing, sooner. But George still lurks."

Eugene, who was still on the ground, looked absolutely miserable. Shane thought it would be kind of funny if, after everything this poor bastard had obviously been through, his ultimate fate was to freeze to death. He could've been saved by a jacket.

"I already told you that George is gone," said Eugene. "He stole a car and drove away. He's getting further and further and further and further away with every second we don't go after him. You're standing around talking about intercourse while he gets away."

"That's not your problem," said Shane.

"It
is
my problem! It's my problem, big-time!" Eugene slowly and shakily got to his feet. He wobbled a bit but remained upright. "I need revenge. The only reason I haven't slashed my own neck with these surgically attached fingernails is because I need revenge before I die. You three are keeping me from that. Right now. Right now at this moment you're keeping me from revenge.
I need revenge
! Vengeance! Payback! Retribution! Eye for an eye! Tit for tat!" Eugene swung the hand that was a wolf paw menacingly in the air. "Death to George and Lou! I'm halfway there, but I didn't get to kill Lou myself, so it only barely counts! Death to George! Death to George!"

"What the hell is the matter with you?" asked Shane.

"For real? You can really look at me and ask that question? You're not taking this seriously! None of you are taking this seriously! Let me explain this in single-word sentences so that you can follow the message I'm trying to convey: George. Is. Getting. Away. Right now he is in a boxy light blue car, in motion. Are any of us in motion? I'm not in motion, I can tell you that much. Let's go, go, go! Let's get in your car and go! I've said all of this and yet we're all just standing here! What's the deal with that? Car! Go! Now! He's on his way to Melville Park right now!"

"Melville Park?"

"Yes, Melville Park! Why are you always three steps behind me in this conversation? You need to take me to Melville Park!"

"I'm not taking you anywhere."

"Except Melville Park, right?"

"What's he doing there?" Shane asked.

Eugene sighed with exasperation. "That's where he's answering for me and the girl getting away. You have to answer for that kind of thing when you're dealing with your superiors. That's where the money drop-off is going to happen. That's where everything is going to happen, but is that where we are? No. I'm looking around, hoping to see that I'm in Melville Park, but instead I'm still at the house where George stole the car that he could drive to Melville Park. This is bullshit, bullshit, bullshit."

Shane gave him a not-so-light shove. "Watch the potty-mouth. My girl doesn't like cursing."

"And she's right not to. It's the sign of a small, simple mind. I should have found another word. Come on, you have to take me there, I can't stay here, I have to get him, I have to get George, I have to get George, I'm a werewolf who can't morph, I need revenge, can't you see that, can't you see that, can't you see that?"

The freak was about to have a complete meltdown right there. No way was he riding along with them, even if his body weren't so messed up.

"Sorry," said Shane. "You can just hang out with Lou here. He looks lonely."

"Oh, that's funny. That's a jolly funny laugh. You know, that's how people end up going to hell. Do you think God wants to hear you say things like that? Do you think he's up there giggling at that witty thing you just said, or is he judging you? I think he's judging you. And I think that when you're sizzling in that pit of lava, you're going to look back and wonder if it really was just a great idea to—"

"Enough," said Shane. "Everyone back in the car."

"Thank you," said Eugene.

"Not you."

"You know what? Fine. I forgive you. You have my forgiveness."

Shane, Robyn, and Crabs got into the car. "Are you sure we shouldn't bring him along?" asked Robyn. "He may know more than what he's said."

Shane shook his head. "No. I'll kill him if I have to be trapped in a car with him. And, I'm not sure if you noticed, but he's the kind of guy who would attract attention."

Eugene placed his hoof on the side window. "Please?"

"Get back in the warmth, you jackass," said Shane. Robyn started the engine and backed out of the driveway. Eugene started to follow them, and Shane wondered if he might have to start throwing rocks and shouting "Shoo! Get out of here! Shoo!" But then Eugene turned and sadly walked back to the house.

"You do have to feel sorry for him," said Robyn.

"I don't. I think it's hilarious."

"He's a fellow wolf."

"
Was
a wolf. Now I don't know what he is, but he's not one of us, that's for sure."

"Are we going to the park?"

"Hell yeah. I haven't killed somebody in a park since this afternoon." Shane grinned, trying to show off his shattered molar. "It's all over for George."

* * *

George walked out of the house, holding an aluminum baseball bat in one hand and a heavy winter coat in the other. He had a small bottle of superglue in his pocket, as well as a wad of about two hundred dollars in cash.

"The plan worked," said Eugene. "They wouldn't take me. I'm relieved but I'm also kind of insulted. I was pretending to be insane, but I wasn't pretending all
that
hard."

"You did great," said George, who hadn't heard any of the conversation and didn't actually know how well Eugene did, but, hey, he should be supportive of his new buddy. "So are they going to the park?" They'd passed a sign for the park earlier. The town seemed pretty dead now that it was dark, so hopefully the park would be, too.

"As far as I know."

"Good. So let's hurry." He tossed the coat to Eugene, who wasn't able to catch it. Eugene picked it up off the ground, tried to put it on, then looked embarrassed. "Could you...?"

"Sure." George set down the bat and helped Eugene into his coat.

"I'm sorry, I just haven't had a chance to practice. I've been chained to a wall. I know that once I get used to it, I'll be able to do stuff for myself again."

"You're not going to live the rest of your life with a wolf paw sewn where your hand used to be," George assured him, picking up the bat and then walking toward Tom and Betsy's car. "We're going to get you fixed up as well as..." He trailed off as he saw Lou's body.

"What?" Eugene asked. "Oh...wow. I'm sorry. I guess they wanted to make sure he was dead."

George clutched the handle of the bat so tightly that it almost felt like he could crush the metal. He didn't mind the pain. He liked it. Relished it.

"Which one did it?" George asked.

"I don't know. I didn't see them do it. I would've tried to stop them, George, I swear."

George had been pretty bored while he and Lou were hiding out, but when he went into hiding this time, he wouldn't be bored at all. Because he was going to bring at least one of them with him, and his new hobby was going to be finding ways to make them suffer. Maybe Mr. Dewey had the right idea. Maybe he'd turn one of them into his own personal Eugene project. Never let them die.

He needed to get over this. Oh, he'd keep the rage going—the rage was productive right now—but he couldn't just stand here thinking gruesome thoughts. "We've gotta go," he told Eugene.

"I'm really sorry," Eugene said. "I mean that."

They went to Tom and Peggy's car. The idea of leaving Lou behind hurt George's soul, especially now that those monsters had defiled him, but it would take too long to get his body into the other car by himself. Continuing to drive the van would be suicidal. And Lou was dead. Giving him a respectful burial would make George feel better, but it wouldn't do shit for Lou. Lou was gone. Putting himself at risk for a Lou-shaped pile of meat would mean that his best friend had died for nothing.

Okay, Lou
had
died for nothing either way. There was no point to this. No noble sacrifice. If the world was a better place with him gone, it wasn't because Lou had died for any sort of cause, it was because George and Lou were scumbags.

They got into Tom and Betsy's car. "Are we going to return their car when we're done?" Eugene asked.

"I doubt it."

"I feel bad that we're stealing it."

"We also stole their bat, some money, and some glue. And probably their sanity."

"What's the glue for?"

"A werewolf-killing tool."

"Nice."

"Where's your nearest Goth club?"

"Goth club?"

"A club where Goths hang out. Or punks. It doesn't matter. Where would I find somebody with lots of rings and piercings?"

"I don't live in Tropper."

"Oh, that's right."

"I was never really into the club scene. I pretty much just spent time with my family."

"I guess small-town Minnesota isn't the best place for Goth clubs, but any club aimed at college kids would have to have at least one heavily pierced person, right? We'll find it."

As they drove away, leaving Lou behind, George tried unsuccessfully to stop the tears.

"It's okay to cry," said Eugene.

"No. It's not."

"It really is."

"If you want to be a crybaby, that's fine." George wiped his eyes. "Knock yourself out. It's not my thing."

"All I'm saying is, cry if you want to. I won't tell anyone. And if you need a hug, all you have do is ask."

"Thanks," said George, sarcastically. "That makes me feel ever so much better."

He would never admit this to anyone, but it actually did make him feel better, a little.