5:30 p.m., and there were no houses nearby, certainly none close enough for anyone to hear screaming. This was where Henry Remus had brought his victims to be slaughtered. He’d killed four women and a number of animals there, drenching the walls and dirt floors with their blood. The press, with its addiction to obvious puns, had naturally dubbed this building the Blood Shed.
It still stood there, a monument to a very twisted mind. It had been months since Remus’s death, but the school couldn’t decide what to do with the shed. The immediate suggestion, of course, was to tear it down and more or less salt the earth where it had stood, but there were objections from the DA’s office and the press. The wooden shed was a huge piece of evidence and there were still several wrongful death lawsuits pending. In addition, there was so much blood inside that even with the help of local FBI labs, they were still trying to process samples for DNA. What if they found more victims?
Eventually the school board had just thrown a few padlocks on it and tried to forget about the whole thing. For a while they had to pay security guards to keep the press away, but ten months after Remus’s killing spree even the hungriest LA journalists had finally given up or lost interest.
In the days after Remus’s death, Jesse had spent a lot of time in that horrible little room, watching LAPD criminologists collect used hypodermic needles and tatters of clothing. He still had nightmares about the Blood Shed, and would have been happy to personally toss a lit match into the ghastly place.
Jesse was a lot closer to the shed than Lex’s hotel was, but he had to make his excuses and go on a quick run to his old precinct. By the time he pulled into the deserted school parking lot Scarlett was already there, leaning against her enormous van, the White Whale. Lex was standing a few feet away, her body language more deferential than Jesse had seen it, like something had taken precedence over her own quest. There was another woman with them: about thirty-five, cropped blonde hair, tan, and a frown that looked permanently etched onto her face. She was standing close enough to Scarlett to be human, but she had the lean, excessively healthy look of a werewolf. Her arms were crossed defensively across her chest, and Jesse suspected this was the person who’d been responsible for Lizzy Thompkins that afternoon. Behind the three of them, he could just see the shed door hanging open a few inches, with darkness seeping out from inside. He parked one space away from the van and got out.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said to the three of them. “Have you been waiting long?”
“We just got here,” Scarlett assured him.
“What’s going on?” There was a sense of expectation in the air, like they’d been waiting for him before they could act.
“She’s holed up in there, in human form,” Scarlett explained. “We’re not sure how to get her out.”
“Wasn’t the shed locked?” Jesse asked. The werewolf he didn’t know gave him a withering look, which made him realize the stupidity of his question. Of course it had been locked, but human padlocks were no challenge for werewolf strength. “Sorry, I withdraw the question. And we haven’t met.”
“Sorry, this is Astrid,” Scarlett said. “She was supposed to be responsible for Lizzy today.”
Astrid stepped forward to shake hands, but her face was stormy. “I just went for a fifteen-minute run,” she snapped, her eyes still on Scarlett. “She was taking a nap, and—”
Scarlett cut her off. “Yeah, but the full moon’s in two days. She’s agitated.”
“You think I don’t know that? It’s October, the fucking Blood Moon, and I’m agitated too, by the way, which is why I needed to take the edge off! Jesus, you think that just because you’re sleeping with a werewolf you know the first thing—”
“Enough!” Jesse held up his hands to stop her tirade. Lex was watching the
It still stood there, a monument to a very twisted mind. It had been months since Remus’s death, but the school couldn’t decide what to do with the shed. The immediate suggestion, of course, was to tear it down and more or less salt the earth where it had stood, but there were objections from the DA’s office and the press. The wooden shed was a huge piece of evidence and there were still several wrongful death lawsuits pending. In addition, there was so much blood inside that even with the help of local FBI labs, they were still trying to process samples for DNA. What if they found more victims?
Eventually the school board had just thrown a few padlocks on it and tried to forget about the whole thing. For a while they had to pay security guards to keep the press away, but ten months after Remus’s killing spree even the hungriest LA journalists had finally given up or lost interest.
In the days after Remus’s death, Jesse had spent a lot of time in that horrible little room, watching LAPD criminologists collect used hypodermic needles and tatters of clothing. He still had nightmares about the Blood Shed, and would have been happy to personally toss a lit match into the ghastly place.
Jesse was a lot closer to the shed than Lex’s hotel was, but he had to make his excuses and go on a quick run to his old precinct. By the time he pulled into the deserted school parking lot Scarlett was already there, leaning against her enormous van, the White Whale. Lex was standing a few feet away, her body language more deferential than Jesse had seen it, like something had taken precedence over her own quest. There was another woman with them: about thirty-five, cropped blonde hair, tan, and a frown that looked permanently etched onto her face. She was standing close enough to Scarlett to be human, but she had the lean, excessively healthy look of a werewolf. Her arms were crossed defensively across her chest, and Jesse suspected this was the person who’d been responsible for Lizzy Thompkins that afternoon. Behind the three of them, he could just see the shed door hanging open a few inches, with darkness seeping out from inside. He parked one space away from the van and got out.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said to the three of them. “Have you been waiting long?”
“We just got here,” Scarlett assured him.
“What’s going on?” There was a sense of expectation in the air, like they’d been waiting for him before they could act.
“She’s holed up in there, in human form,” Scarlett explained. “We’re not sure how to get her out.”
“Wasn’t the shed locked?” Jesse asked. The werewolf he didn’t know gave him a withering look, which made him realize the stupidity of his question. Of course it had been locked, but human padlocks were no challenge for werewolf strength. “Sorry, I withdraw the question. And we haven’t met.”
“Sorry, this is Astrid,” Scarlett said. “She was supposed to be responsible for Lizzy today.”
Astrid stepped forward to shake hands, but her face was stormy. “I just went for a fifteen-minute run,” she snapped, her eyes still on Scarlett. “She was taking a nap, and—”
Scarlett cut her off. “Yeah, but the full moon’s in two days. She’s agitated.”
“You think I don’t know that? It’s October, the fucking Blood Moon, and I’m agitated too, by the way, which is why I needed to take the edge off! Jesus, you think that just because you’re sleeping with a werewolf you know the first thing—”
“Enough!” Jesse held up his hands to stop her tirade. Lex was watching the
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