concerned him the most.
He had tried many times to communicate with her
telepathically, but he couldn’t seem to break through to her. When he attempted
to probe her thoughts, he was met with a kind of white noise. Alex thought it
might have something to do with all the recreational drugs Jenny had taken and
he encouraged Sergei to be patient until her brain healed itself.
Sergei had even toyed with the idea that she was willfully
blocking him. He knew it was a foolish notion, but he was desperate for
answers. There were times when she seemed more animal than human. A sickening
thought rose into Sergei’s consciousness. Gwen Chaney was safe among werewolves
because she was protected under pack law. But the law was meaningless to one
who made her own rules.
Stuffing his cell into his jeans pocket, Sergei flung open
the back door and bolted through the yard. He quickly located a fresh scent
trail at the edge of the tree line and followed it into the woods.
After finding the pile of bloody carcasses near a brush
pile, Sergei bolted through the forest and was on Gwen’s porch in a matter of
minutes. It was against pack policy to run full speed during the daylight, lest
they attract unwanted attention, but given what he’d smelled in the clearing,
he knew he’d have to risk it.
The unique fragrances of Jenny, Gwen and the pet dogs would
be clear to any werewolf. It was the more subtle scents of fear, rage, and
murderous intent that made Sergei’s heart thunder in his chest.
* * * * *
Even with refueling stops to feed the Stingray’s whirring
engine, Alex still made the three-hundred mile trip from Minneapolis to Talbot
in half the usual time. An hour from home, Sergei had called to say that he was
at Gwen’s cabin and she was safe and sound.
“All is well, friend.” That’s what the big Russian had said.
But it didn’t take a telepath to understand that the words were empty. The
strain in Sergei’s voice was apparent and even over the hum of the motor, Alex
could hear his panicked heartbeat. He’d asked Sergei to pass the phone to Gwen.
“I’m fine, Alex,” she’d insisted. “I just had a little scare.
Sergei is going to hang out with me until you get here.”
A little scare?
He’d have to leave it at that for now. They never discussed
pack business on the phone. It was impossible to tell who might be listening.
There were too many monster-hunters out there trying to prove the existence of
supernaturals. Some of them even had TV series on the same network as Alex’s
show.
A thousand scenarios raced through Alex’s mind. None of them
was pleasant. Something had spooked Gwen and he’d have to wait until they were
face-to-face to find out if it was animal, human, or something in between.
For all of his concern, Alex felt oddly vindicated to learn
he wasn’t just overreacting to his nightmare. Alex was great at interpreting
animal behavior, but he sucked at dream analysis. He wished he could get Jeremiah
on the phone. The old shaman could see the hidden omens better than anyone
else. Well, almost anyone.
The idea came to Alex like a bolt of lightning. “Call Tommy
Longtree,” he instructed the wireless.
The leader of the Cat People picked up on the third ring.
“What’s up, Alex?”
“Hey Tommy, I’m on the way back to Talbot. I’ll be passing
your place in about ten minutes and I was wondering if you’d like to take a
ride. I want to pick your brain about a dream I had.”
“You don’t want to do it by phone?” Tommy asked.
“Not this one,” Alex said. He knew he didn’t have to explain
any further. Tommy’s people had the same interest in secrecy that the
werewolves had.
Tommy laughed. “Oh, got it. Yeah, I’m down at the docks
doing a little fishing. I’ll start hoofing it toward the highway and meet you
in ten at the County C turnoff. I’m happy to help, but, Alex…man, I’m sure you
haven’t forgotten what a royal fuckup my last interpretation turned out to
He had tried many times to communicate with her
telepathically, but he couldn’t seem to break through to her. When he attempted
to probe her thoughts, he was met with a kind of white noise. Alex thought it
might have something to do with all the recreational drugs Jenny had taken and
he encouraged Sergei to be patient until her brain healed itself.
Sergei had even toyed with the idea that she was willfully
blocking him. He knew it was a foolish notion, but he was desperate for
answers. There were times when she seemed more animal than human. A sickening
thought rose into Sergei’s consciousness. Gwen Chaney was safe among werewolves
because she was protected under pack law. But the law was meaningless to one
who made her own rules.
Stuffing his cell into his jeans pocket, Sergei flung open
the back door and bolted through the yard. He quickly located a fresh scent
trail at the edge of the tree line and followed it into the woods.
After finding the pile of bloody carcasses near a brush
pile, Sergei bolted through the forest and was on Gwen’s porch in a matter of
minutes. It was against pack policy to run full speed during the daylight, lest
they attract unwanted attention, but given what he’d smelled in the clearing,
he knew he’d have to risk it.
The unique fragrances of Jenny, Gwen and the pet dogs would
be clear to any werewolf. It was the more subtle scents of fear, rage, and
murderous intent that made Sergei’s heart thunder in his chest.
* * * * *
Even with refueling stops to feed the Stingray’s whirring
engine, Alex still made the three-hundred mile trip from Minneapolis to Talbot
in half the usual time. An hour from home, Sergei had called to say that he was
at Gwen’s cabin and she was safe and sound.
“All is well, friend.” That’s what the big Russian had said.
But it didn’t take a telepath to understand that the words were empty. The
strain in Sergei’s voice was apparent and even over the hum of the motor, Alex
could hear his panicked heartbeat. He’d asked Sergei to pass the phone to Gwen.
“I’m fine, Alex,” she’d insisted. “I just had a little scare.
Sergei is going to hang out with me until you get here.”
A little scare?
He’d have to leave it at that for now. They never discussed
pack business on the phone. It was impossible to tell who might be listening.
There were too many monster-hunters out there trying to prove the existence of
supernaturals. Some of them even had TV series on the same network as Alex’s
show.
A thousand scenarios raced through Alex’s mind. None of them
was pleasant. Something had spooked Gwen and he’d have to wait until they were
face-to-face to find out if it was animal, human, or something in between.
For all of his concern, Alex felt oddly vindicated to learn
he wasn’t just overreacting to his nightmare. Alex was great at interpreting
animal behavior, but he sucked at dream analysis. He wished he could get Jeremiah
on the phone. The old shaman could see the hidden omens better than anyone
else. Well, almost anyone.
The idea came to Alex like a bolt of lightning. “Call Tommy
Longtree,” he instructed the wireless.
The leader of the Cat People picked up on the third ring.
“What’s up, Alex?”
“Hey Tommy, I’m on the way back to Talbot. I’ll be passing
your place in about ten minutes and I was wondering if you’d like to take a
ride. I want to pick your brain about a dream I had.”
“You don’t want to do it by phone?” Tommy asked.
“Not this one,” Alex said. He knew he didn’t have to explain
any further. Tommy’s people had the same interest in secrecy that the
werewolves had.
Tommy laughed. “Oh, got it. Yeah, I’m down at the docks
doing a little fishing. I’ll start hoofing it toward the highway and meet you
in ten at the County C turnoff. I’m happy to help, but, Alex…man, I’m sure you
haven’t forgotten what a royal fuckup my last interpretation turned out to
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