Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles #2) Page 4

  She entered the darkened room, which contained an old wooden desk and matching chair, and a cot facing a blank chalkboard. The top drawer of the desk held a thin blanket and a fresh pillowcase for the pillow, and Katelyn got the cot ready and lay down. Staring up at the old plaster ceiling, she traced faint images the way she and Kimi used to do when the clouds rolled in over the Pacific Ocean. A seashell. A surfboard. A wolf. Another wolf.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples to break the building tension, the cot creaking as she tried to get comfortable. And then she detected muffled voices on the other side of the wall. Then not so muffled, as she stopped moving and eavesdropped.

  “. . . don’t know where he is,” said a voice. It was Coach Ambrose.

  “Well, he didn’t call in sick. He didn’t call in at all, and I can’t reach him.” That was Mr. Hastings, the school principal. “I’ll send Pat Lewis over there to check.”

  Pat Lewis would be Sergeant Lewis, the man who had taken fingerprints at her house after the break-in.

  “Wes did caution the kids not to go into the forest. So he knows better than to put himself at risk.”

  Katelyn guessed that Mr. Henderson’s first name was Wes. And he still hadn’t shown up for class. They must be talking about him.

  “God, what if it’s another murder?” Mr. Hastings muttered, then sighed. “I don’t mean to sound so heartless. Let’s see what Lewis finds out.”

  “I have to get back to my class,” Coach Ambrose said. “Oh, for your info, I’ve got Mike Wright for detention. I caught him loitering around Trick Sokolov’s car after the second bell rang. With a box cutter.”

  Katelyn grimaced. Mike again, with his piglike nose and super-bad attitude. She’d made an enemy of him the first time she’d met him by sticking up for Cordelia when he’d started harassing her. Katelyn had had no idea, of course, that Cordelia could have crushed his windpipe and tossed him off the bridge over the river if she’d felt like it.

  If I get that strong, I’ll totally do it for her, Katelyn thought acidly. For both of us. For Trick, too.

  The principal swore beneath his breath. “There was a break-in over at the McBrides’,” he said. “I wonder if Mike had anything to do with that, too. He’s said some choice words about that new girl, McBride’s granddaughter.”

  Katelyn scowled. She just bet he had.

  “Remember when Mike and his boys tried to pin those other burglaries on Sokolov?”

  “Trick didn’t do this one, either. Lewis already cleared him.”

  “Mike’s just a bully. But Trick’s a rich kid, bored, smart as hell,” the coach said.

  “Trick and I go way back,” Mr. Hastings replied with a wry chuckle. “Wolf Springs can’t contain a boy like that.”

  “Seems to be a few other things we can’t contain,” the coach replied. “I’m worried about Wes.”

  “I’ll let you know what I find out,” Mr. Hastings told him.

  She heard a door close. There was another silence. Then the principal said, “Yeah, hi, Pat. Listen, can you go over to Wes Henderson’s place? Brick house on the corner by the old stables? He didn’t show up for work and my calls are going straight to voice mail. Given the circumstances . . . yes. Thanks.”

  Katelyn waited, but nothing more came from the office, leaving her to ponder what she’d heard, Trick’s frequent run-ins with Mike, and the slashed tires on his Mustang the first day he’d taken her to school.

  She woke to the sound of an incoming text on her phone. She was still in the sick room and she snatched the phone up, reading off an unknown number. Her heart skipped multiple beats when she saw the message.

  RU alone? C

  C, for Cordelia. Katelyn almost screamed in relief. Her friend was alive!

  Yes! School. Where RU? Katelyn texted frantically, screwing up three times in her haste and having to redo.

  Safe. For now.

  Katelyn closed her eyes against an onslaught of deep, relieved joy.

  A third text bubble popped up: No thanks to you.

  It hurt, but Katelyn almost didn’t care. Just to know Cordelia was okay was enough.

  C, tell me where u r, she typed.

  But there was no answer.

  Then her glance ticked up to the chalkboard.

  Coming home w/me today, it read. J.

  J for Justin. The board had been blank when she’d come into the room. Deep, visceral fear propelled Katelyn off the cot as she stared at the board. Justin had been in this room while she’d been asleep.

  She looked around for any other evidence of his visit. There was none. Then she grabbed up her backpack, got a pen and her English notebook, and copied Cordelia’s new phone number into it. Next, with regret, she deleted the texts.

  She stayed in the sick room past lunch, hiding, seemingly forgotten by a busy Mrs. Walker. She texted Cordelia four times, but there was no reply. Then she called and let her grandfather know she’d be going over to “study with Cordelia” in the afternoon. When she emerged from the school at the end of the day, Trick fell into step beside her. His cowboy hat was pulled down low over his eyes, giving him a mysterious air.

  “Hey, where’ve you been?” he asked, taking her backpack, which she was carrying against her chest. They crossed quickly to the lot.

  “I didn’t feel good,” she replied tersely.

  “What the hell,” Trick said in a soft, angry tone.

  Dead ahead of them, in the lot, Justin had just ridden up on his motorcycle. He stopped and put down his foot. The engine still idling, he reached into a square fiberglass compartment attached to the side of the bike and showed her an extra helmet.

  Trick stared at Katelyn incredulously.

  “I have to go to Cordelia’s for homework,” she said in a rush. “We’re doing a project.”

  “I could have driven you over,” he said.

  Justin raced the engine and impatiently held up the helmet. Trick looked from her to Justin and back again, and a purple flush worked its way up his neck. He pursed his lips into a tight frown.

  “See you tomorrow.” Katelyn gave him a little wave and Trick shrugged.

  Justin flicked up his visor. He didn’t smile. He just waited. Seething, Katelyn walked over to him. She took the helmet as he stowed her backpack in the compartment, then got on the bike and slid her arms around Justin’s waist. As Trick walked past them and headed toward his Mustang, Justin flicked the visor of his helmet back down, gunned the engine, and tore out of the lot.

  The ride was long and rough, but Katelyn held on grimly, glad that they weren’t having to talk. Finally they made it to the Fenners’ house.

  “Lee’s not here,” Justin announced as the motorcycle rolled down the sharp incline of the driveway. “Truck’s gone.”

  Katelyn was relieved. She examined the windows of the large, sprawling house to see if anyone was there. After Saturday night, she felt eyes everywhere, and she couldn’t help being rattled.

  The house was an eccentric multi-storied, castle-like building of stone, wood and glass. Trees grew in little courtyards specifically designed to accommodate them. When Katelyn had first seen the rambling house, she had envied Cordelia for all the space she had — something sorely lacking in the McBride cabin — even though the Fenner house was also home to Justin and his older brother, Jesse, Lee Fenner’s nephews; both of their parents were dead. Then she had met Cordelia’s snide, nasty sisters. And her father Lee, who was so bizarre that Katelyn had entertained the thought of suggesting to Cordelia that she move back to Los Angeles with her as fast as humanly possible. Of course, that had been before Katelyn had even known the Fenners were werewolves.

  Justin had told Katelyn that the pack alphas had come from Lee Fenner’s direct family line ever since the move to Arkansas in the 1800’s. But Katelyn also knew of Lee Fenner’s recent health problems, his shaky grasp on staying alpha of the pack.

  “No one’s challenged him for leadership yet?” she asked Justin as he kille
d the engine, then waited for her to climb off the motorcycle, pointing again to the left.

  “I didn’t say that no one’s challenged him,” Justin replied. He pushed down the kickstand.

  Katelyn took off her helmet and studied the house again. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this.

  I did this to myself. I drove into the forest alone. I got out of the truck.

  No. There was no way she was going to blame herself for this, or allow anyone else to put it on her. She was carrying enough guilt already: guilt at having taken a painkiller for a gymnastics injury on the night of the earthquake in L.A. — the earthquake that had led to her mother’s death.

  Justin dismounted and took off his own helmet, shaking out his curly hair, and despite her anger, Katelyn couldn’t help blushing at the remembered sensation of her arms against his six-pack abs on the ride from school. She was a dancer and an athlete, and she appreciated a well-taken-care-of human body.

  Don’t try to sugarcoat it. You think he’s hot.

  It had taken nearly an hour to get to the Fenner house and she had felt her phone vibrating in her jeans pocket with text after text. From Trick, she was guessing. Hoping, she had to admit. She pulled out her phone and checked. Five messages from Kimi made her smile in surprise. Then there was a single text from Trick.

  Call your grandfather, he had reminded her. That was all; and she already had, keeping up the pretense that she and Cordelia were meeting to make up and work on their project.

  Tnx, she texted back.

  “Drop your stuff on the porch,” Justin said. “Then let’s go. Lee’s asked me to begin your training.”

  Training? It sounded so weird, as if he were a gymnastics coach. But Katelyn knew she needed to understand more about her new life, so she did as he asked, slipping her phone into the pocket of her jacket. She didn’t linger on the porch.

  They began to walk into the woods, and Katelyn felt that as soon as they were in the forest, Justin relaxed slightly. It was funny. Everyone else feared the woods but those who were werewolves seemed far more comfortable there than elsewhere.

  “Those of us, the families who make up this pack, come from Norway originally. We Fenners are direct descendants of the Fenris Wolf.”

  “Like in Norse mythology?”

  “Exactly like. Fenris was a supernatural wolf-being who would bring about the death of Odin, king of the gods. He was bound with magical chains and imprisoned in a cave.”

  “Why did you come here? Why not stay in Norway?”

  He moved his shoulders. “We’re people, too, Kat. Lots of people left the Old World for different reasons.” He gave her a look. “I’ve always wondered if someone found out about us.”

  She quickened with anxiety. There was always that threat about spilling the secret. Always the worry that she and her grandfather could be killed to guard it.

  Justin raised his chin. She could tell he was sniffing the air, and she tried to breathe in whatever he had detected. She smelled leather and spice, dirt, and the pungent scent of pine.

  Then he blinked and looked at her, as if he’d realized he’d lost his train of thought.

  “Some folks also said that the cave where Fenris had been bound might be around here.”

  Katelyn’s scalp prickled and she thought of the silver mine that she and Cordelia had been looking for. What better way to trap a werewolf than surrounding him by silver?

  “What?” Justin asked suddenly. “You’re shaking your head.”

  She hesitated. She never knew what she should say, and what she should keep to herself.

  “Tell me,” he said, stopping her with a hand on her wrist.

  “I just thought about the silver mine Cordelia and I were trying to find for our history project, that’s all.”

  She expected him to make fun of her, but he just looked thoughtful. “I suppose anything’s possible,” he said after a moment.

  “So is Fenris good or bad?” Could he be the Hellhound?

  “Legend says that Fenris was just. He dealt swift punishment to those who sinned, and rewarded his good children with plenty of hunting and land. But Odin ruled based on whim. And he was moody.”

  “Like your uncle,” she said before thinking.

  Justin’s eyes widened. He pursed his lips for a couple of moments, and then he just looked sad. “I guess that’s what makes it so hard to take. Uncle Lee was always harsh, but fair. The rules were simple, clear. Now . . . now no one is sure where they stand.”

  When she realized he was including himself in that statement, it sent another rush of fear through her. And she could guess how hard it was for him to live in a world of shifting rules. Of course, everything that Lee did, that all of them did, made no sense to her because she didn’t even know what the rules were supposed to be. But he looked so sad that it made her heart ache for him. His life hadn’t been an easy one, she knew. Just like her, he had lost both his parents, and nothing since then had been easy. She decided to shift the topic away from Lee for a minute.

  “So, if Fenners are direct descendants of the Fenris wolf, shouldn’t all werewolves look up to you?”

  Justin laughed, a bitter, hard sound. “Wouldn’t that make life nice and easy? No. Look at all the religions in the human world. All the special, chosen people.”

  “So . . . other werewolves were created in other ways?” She thought of her attack, the bite. How did all this get started?

  “The Gaudins claim to be descended from the Beast of Gévaudan — a werewolf that terrorized the area of Gévaudan in France in the Middle Ages. It killed more than two hundred people and that’s a source of pride with the Gaudins. They are savages with no honor, no morality.”

  And yet Katelyn knew that her friend Cordelia had had feelings for Dominic Gaudin — the alpha of the Gaudins — who had stood up to Lee Fenner for her on Halloween night. What she had seen of Dom didn’t make him seem any more savage than the werewolves of the Fenner pack.

  “They’ve been spoiling for war for a long time,” Justin went on, and there was a hint of growl in his tone. “It makes no sense. North America is huge, so there’s no need to fight over territory, but they do. They sneak on our land, poach our prey, spy on us.”

  The anger was back, simmering just below the surface. He was taut, as if ready to spring. “So it’s you versus them,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No, there are other packs,” he said. “Most of them are pretty small. But there’s one big one.” She waited. Emotions flashed across his face, but she couldn’t read them. “The Latgale family. They call themselves the Hounds of God.”

  “That’s so weird.”

  “They don’t think so,” he said. “The pack came from Livonia. They said they were warriors who went down into hell to do battle with witches and demons. They believed that when they died, their souls were welcomed into heaven as reward for their service.”

  “Do they still believe that?” Katelyn asked, thinking of the Hellhound again.

  Justin shrugged. “I guess. I’ve never talked to one of them. Only Uncle Lee has, and he said their leader was crazy.” He made a face. “And we’re back to moody alphas.” He stopped abruptly. “Okay, we’re here.”

  Katelyn looked around. “Here” looked like every other part of the forest to her. “Where?” she asked.

  He grinned at her. “That’s what I want you to tell me.”

  “O-kay,” she said, drawing the word out. “Just give me a second.” She started to pull out her phone, but he stopped her with a quick shake of his head.

  “No GPS, no phones. I want you to tell me where we are.”

  She looked straight at him. “The middle of the woods.”

  “Now is not the time to be sarcastic, Kat.”

  She sighed and bunched up her shoulders as she tried to figure out how long they’d been walking. Finally she pointed back the way they’d come. “We’re about a mile away from the house.”

  “Good. Remember that.”


  She cocked her head.

  “It’s going to be up to you to find the way back later.” Before she could ask what he meant, he slapped her lightly on the back. “Tag, you’re it.”

  Then he set out running. Katelyn stared after him in surprise for a second before she began chasing after him, bobbing and weaving around the trees. “You’re going too fast!” she shouted.

  He turned his head over his shoulder and shouted back, “You’re going too slow.” And then he seemed to leap forward, his legs moving so quickly she couldn’t see them.

  Startled and afraid of losing sight of him, she reached deep down inside herself. And she found speed that she would never have dreamed of.

  Suddenly she was the one who raced so fast she was practically flying. She vaulted a fallen log with ease, darted between the trees, and then she passed Justin. She reached out and slapped his shoulder, then jumped out of the way of his reaching arms.

  She laughed and ran faster, the trees beginning to blur by, and she felt dizzy and breathless and wildly happy all at the same time. Wind stung her face. She felt Justin’s hand brush her shoulder and she twisted in mid-stride, ready to tag him back.

  But he wasn’t there.

  She slowed, stumbled over her own feet, then stopped, turning in every direction, but she couldn’t see him.

  “Justin!”

  Only silence greeted her.

  It was the first time she had been alone in the woods since her attack. And all the reasons she shouldn’t be out there alone sprang instantly to mind. Nervously, she rubbed the places on her arm where the trap had cut her. She’d heard something whispering to her again that morning. Calling her name. Promising. Threatening. Stalking. Even now, just thinking about it, she began to tremble. And it wasn’t just the Hellhound she had to worry about now. Someone had shot at her.

  She began to jog back the way she’d come, but now her legs felt leaden, heavy. Her lungs filled with the smell of pine and mud and traces of the perfume she’d worn to school. She didn’t smell Justin at all. Didn’t see footprints, or broken-off tree limbs, or anything else to signal his route. The forest was just the forest, and she was wandering from one identical tree to the next.