“Don’t worry, Teddy,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “I can handle myself.”
Teddy snorts. “I have a feeling you can handle yourself just fine,” he assures. “But still, be careful, yeah?”
Carmen gives him a mock salute. “You got it.”
She wonders if he can see it: the vacancy in her eyes. The void where life should be. Maybe it’s what draws him closer, what drives him to check on her in ways she hasn’t seen him do with any of the other customers. It almost makes her ashamed to think of this perfectly normal (and probably good) man looking at her like he recognizes the darkness within, but like she still matters anyway. Like she might be worthy of reaching a hand out for.
“Hey, Teddy?” she calls out just as he turns away. When his eyes meet hers again, she gives him her best try at a real smile. “Thanks. I’m glad our paths crossed.”
His eyes bunch together in confusion, but the corners of his mouth lift beneath his paint-covered mustache. “I don’t evenknow your name,” he muses. “But I’m glad to know you too, kid. And . . . I’m around, you know? If you ever need anything.”
The corners of Carmen’s eyes burn with emotion. She has to take a slow, steadying breath to keep her tears at bay. Teddy gives her a wink before moving to the other end of the bar, greeting a couple both dressed as doctors.
Carmen makes quick work of finishing her drink and leaves all her cash on the bar for Teddy—where she’s going, she won’t need it.
Outside, the sun is just about to set. She looks for the moon and finds it hanging over the motel’s roof. She doesn’t have long before it reaches its peak, its power calling to the werewolves’ primal instincts to shift and hunt for their next victims. She heads for the Impala in the lot and climbs in, sniffing for any sign of the gallons of propylene carbonate she has stored in the trunk. She’d filled two five-gallon portable camping tanks with the flammable liquid earlier this afternoon, knowing they’d be harder to detect than something more acrid like gasoline.
After doing a quick sweep of all her blades, making sure they’re all where they should be, she starts the ignition and takes a deep breath.
CHAPTER 11
The wolves come in the middle of the night.
Carmen wakes to a strange scratching sound, like something’s grinding down a path that creates a lot of resistance. She’ll later see it’s from claw marks in the trees all around their tent—a mark of territory.
Of ownership.
“Lacie,” she whispers, pushing against Lacie’s shoulder until her eyes open and peer up at her in the darkness. “Something’s out there.”
Lacie sits up and looks toward the zip-closed door of their tent. Both of them listen intently until they hear the sound again. “Is it a bear?” she whispers.
“In the desert?” Carmen asks.
“Maybe coyotes?”
A low growl comes from behind them as the scratching persists in front. “There’s more than one,” Carmen says, keeping her voice low. “Do you have your knife with you?”
Lacie nods, pushing the blankets aside and reaching into the dark corner of the tent. Carmen does the same, her fingers wrapping around the familiar eight-inch blade she’d tucked beneath her pillow before they went to sleep. She looks back atLacie and presses her finger to her lips before carefully moving toward the front of the tent. She has no doubt that whatever is out there knows the tent isn’t empty, that they can smell her and Lacie in here, but she wants to try to use the element of surprise and attack first.
A few strides on her hands and knees brings her to the closed flap. She pinches the zipper between her fingers, but just as she starts to tug it down there’s a crash behind her, shaking the entire tent with the force of it. Whipping her head around, she locks eyes with a massive wolf that’s torn through the canvas, its dark fur standing tall around the scruff of its neck and down the length of its long back. Carmen screams when she realizes its maw is clamped down tight around Lacie’s shoulder, causing blood to flow freely down her arm. It begins to back up out of the tent, pulling Lacie with it.
“No,” Carmen shouts, launching herself at them both. She wields her knife out in front of her, jabbing it toward the wolf’s face. Its growl grows louder as it moves quicker, pulling Lacie all the way out of the tent and disappearing from view. “Let her go!”
“Carmen!” Lacie cries out.
Carmen curses, shoving herselfthrough the torn hole of the tent. But the wolf keeps Lacie just out of reach. “Drop her!” she yells, frantic. “Drop her right now!”
A chuffing sound reverberates from the wolf’s throat, as if it'slaughing. She dives forward again, blade swinging, and manages to nick it across the cheek just asasecond wolf stalks out of the darkness, much bigger than the first. Its fur is lighter, a copper tinge shining beneath the full moon. Its eyes narrow on her, teeth bared. She watches in horror as it stands on its haunches, its menacing face shifting from that of a wolf to one of a man. His red hair reaches his bare shoulders, his eyesan icy blue. “Put the blade down, or she dies,” the creature—werewolf—says through a wicked sneer.
Carmen drops the knife without hesitation. “Let her go,” she begs. “Please, you can have anything you want but let hergo.” The wolf who has Lacie pinned must clamp its jaw harder around her shoulder because she lets out a squeal of pain. Carmen’s heart hammers hard in her chest, her throat constricting with a level of panic she’s never ever felt before.
“Hmm,” the man in front of her hums, a cocky grin curling from his terrible mouth. Even in the darkness she can see his teeth are yellow, his skin dirty. “I’m afraid we can’t just let her go . . . it would go against direct orders,” he says.
“What orders?”
“Order to send a message, of course. You’re lucky that’s all it is.”
Carmen glares at him. “Then say whatever you need to say and let her go,” she orders, “or I’ll skin you both alive and sell your hides for pennies.”
