Sisters Red by Jackson Pearce Page A

carved rabbits and try to look casual, though I keep my hands near the handles of my knives. If they are Fenris, I want to be ready. "Are you guys looking for someone?"
    "Sort of," the young one says. "But it doesn't look like
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    there's anyone home." He grins at me kindly, moving to brush his shaggy hair from his face.
    "I don't think there is," I answer cautiously. "Maybe try back later?"
    "Yeah... yeah, we'll do that," the older one answers. "Thanks for your help."
    "No problem," I say a little too quickly.
    "Hang on," the younger one says. He steps toward me, thrusting his hands into his pockets sheepishly. "Can we walk you home at least? Seems dangerous for a girl to be out here all alone."
    "I..." I hesitate. His eyes are beautiful, a golden color that reminds me of autumn leaves. "I'm okay, really."
    "Really. We'd love to," the older one interjects. His voice is smooth, granite-like. He moves to slick his hair back.
    I clench my teeth. On the wrist of the older man I can see a pack symbol. Something circular--Bell, maybe? The younger man's would be hidden by the star-studded wristbands he wears, but surely he's a wolf too, right? I can never tell immediately the way Scarlett can. I still see the human first and have to find the wolf by way of the pack mark. She sees the wolf, and only the wolf.
    "Okay. Sure, walk me home," I reply, a little too boldly. I shrug my shoulders and force myself to flip my hair in what I hope is a carefree way. Alone. It's just me, no Scarlett. You can do this, Rosie. You've fought dozens of wolves. Lead them in, draw them to you, kill them.
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    I walk down the cabin's front steps, letting my hips sway a little more than usual; the older Fenris looks at me with what has become a sickening grin. I react exactly how I'm supposed to--by looking nervous. It forces the animal to take over, to hunt. But genuine goose bumps race up and down my arms as the younger Fenris takes a step closer.
    "So why did you walk all the way out here instead of drive? Not old enough?" he asks, his voice more guttural than when we first spoke.
    "I'm sixteen. How old are you?" I reply as we walk back toward the main road.
    The older Fenris laughs loudly, and the younger one's eyes sparkle with dark mischievousness. "He's forty-nine. I'm twenty-one."
    "A big age gap for friends," I say. The younger Fenris shrugs but doesn't say anything. I'm gripping the handle of a knife so hard that my hands have started to go numb, but I can't do anything until they change.
    I'm surprised that they haven't made their move by the time we reach the main road. If they attack here, I'll have them in open space. If I let them pull me into the tall grasses that line this section of the road, we're both at a disadvantage. They'll want to stay out here in the open, where I can't hide.
    "Uh, miss?" one of the Fenris says from a few yards behind me, though the voice is so snarled that I can't tell if it was the older or younger wolf. I whirl around and the older
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    wolf is half transformed, his dashing gray hair now snarled in greasy patches of gray fur, chiseled features now muscular jaws and wide-set ocher eyes.
    "Oh my... um... what?" I stammer.
    "My friend seems to be sick," the younger Fenris says, stepping closer as if he hopes to feed off my fear. The handsome indie-rocker look has transformed into a grin that's just a tad too wide for a normal human. I take a step back and fold my arms over my waist, trying to tremble as I secretly wrap my fingers around the handles of my knives. "I think there's something in the water here. But you know what I think would make him feel better?"
    "What?" I ask timidly.
    The younger Fenris races toward me, moving like a flood over dry earth. His nose starts to speckle with fur, and when he speaks, the scent of decomposition and death is so heavy on his breath that I almost choke. He stops only a foot or so from me and leans forward, clicking his long incisors together when he answers. "Eating you,