The Last Werewolf (The Weres of Europe) by Jennifer Denys, Susan Laine Page B

“Summer.”
    “Pretty.” She wasn’t sure if he meant her name or her looks, but decided to play along, smiling kindly and thanking him. He responded, “I am Tero.”
    “Nice to meet you.”
    After that he said nothing, and silence fell again, although she could feel his creepy eyes staring at her. After passing by a large wheat field, mere minutes of driving, Tero pointed to their left at an unnamed, unpaved side-road surrounded by towering trees so tall the sunlight was dimmed. Steering the car to the pothole-riddled dirt path lined with spruces and birches, Summer began to worry she really might have been too trusting of the kindness of strangers.
    “Annukka house is at end of road,” Tero said gruffly, watching the poor path intently, possibly looking for anything that might get the car stuck. “Slow. Careful.”
    Summer didn’t need instructions for that, knowing that the car’s undercarriage rode far too low and one good bump might break the oil pan. Trees encroached on the road, leaning precariously over it, creating a greenish-gray canopy. The tire ruts were clear, but grass and flowers grew in the middle, and the soft thump against the undercarriage was a constant, noisy companion to their ride. She wondered why her grandmother would live down such an overgrown road, if she did at all.
    It didn’t take long for the car to reach the end of the road, and there was no house.
    Her blood ran cold, and her heart thundered in her chest. “There’s nothing here,” she said stupidly, not knowing what else to say. She felt the wolf within her start to awaken and stir, gearing up for an imminent fight.
    She didn’t even have the chance to turn her head toward her passenger when there was a rush of movement and something hit her over the head very hard, causing her to grunt in agony. White stars danced in her field of vision, clouding over the red waves of pain, and then darkness fell over her.
     
    ****
     
    Unfamiliar men talking roused her from her dreamless, aching sleep. Her head was the victim of a hammering pain she had never felt before, and she prayed she never would again. The men, whose voices she didn’t recognize, spoke in Finnish, and she couldn’t naturally understand them. Keeping her eyes closed, she focused on her other senses to give her an impression of where she was and what was going on.
    The first thing she noticed upon opening her eyes was that she could see nothing but blackness. She was blindfolded with a black cloth that gave her no room to maneuver or to see even faintly through.
    Something else she became painfully aware of was the ropes clasping her wrists tightly together behind her back, unyielding, as she lay on the cold floor. The bonds held strong, and it was futile to try and fight them in her weakened condition. The beast within would soon heal her and grant her more force, but until then it was better to gather up her energy and try to ascertain her surroundings.
    “She’s awake,” a man spoke in English, almost snarling.
    “Get her chair,” another man said, with an unmistakable voice of authority.
    Summer was grabbed hard by her arms and yanked up on her wobbly feet. Struggling for equilibrium, she was tossed on her butt onto a rickety wooden chair that creaked beneath her. Sniffing, she smelled cold air, stale beers, and mildew, so she guessed she was being held in a confined space, perhaps underground. She heard a stony echo to their voices, so she was definitely indoors.
    A sharp slap to her face startled her and brought her out of her reverie.
    “We know what you are,” a man’s voice snarled at her. “No funny games.” Instantly she recognized the speaker as Tero, her less-than-a-knight in less-than-shining plaid armor.
    “Why are you searching for Annukka?” This was the owner of the commandeering voice, and Summer realized he was the boss. “You said you are related to her. Is that true?”
    Clasping her mouth shut by biting her teeth together hard,