He worked his mouth. I knew he was trying to tell me something but with all his teeth and panting, it was impossible to sort out anything close to actual words.
The 911 call would go straight to Myra and Jean too, so they were on their way. But I needed someone else. I need Rossi.
I tugged my phone from my pocket and dialed Rossi one-handed.
“Delaney,” he said, drawing out my name.
“Where’s Ben?”
Silence. One heartbeat. Two.
“He’s not in Ordinary,” Rossi breathed. “I can’t feel him in Ordinary.”
“I just found Jame at the Flying Tackle. He’s hurt. There’s blood. I need you to tell me whose blood this belongs to.”
The phone line went dead.
We were about fifteen minutes outside of Ordinary. Rossi lived toward the south end of town. In a car it might take him twenty minutes to reach us.
But he didn’t need a car.
Less than a minute passed before Rossi came striding up through the trees, his dark hair loose around his face, eyes red with anger.
He paused, just the slightest hesitation, before he was within arm distance, his black boots not quite touching the puddle of blood and rainwater surrounding Jame.
“Whose blood is it?” I asked.
“Ben’s.”
The word was growled so low, I almost didn’t hear it. But Jame heard it. He whined again, his hand spasming as he tried to move.
Rossi’s head jerked once, eyes going wide, then narrow as he took in the symbols.
“It’s the same as Sven, isn’t it?” I asked.
He knelt next to me, long fingers surprisingly gentle as he removed my hand from the cloth at Jame’s neck.
His nostrils flared as he stared at the bite there.
“Is that bite from Ben?” I was afraid of his answer but needed to hear it.
“No.”
Hell. “What happens when a vampire bites someone else’s boyfriend?”
“War.”
The thin wail of an approaching ambulance filled the air, and just behind it, around it, punching through it like needles through thick cloth, was the howling of wolves.
Jame’s family, his clan, his pack, all the Wolfes in Ordinary were coming, calling, howling for their own.
Chapter 17
It was controlled chaos. The Wolfes had arrived just before the ambulance, my sisters, and about a dozen of the Rossi clan.
Jean had quickly told Dave, the owner of the bait shop, that he needed to be closed for the day, promised an update as soon as she had it, and sent him home in his truck.
Dave hadn’t had a chance to see Jame, since the ambulance, Jean’s truck, and Myra’s cruiser were strategically parked to block anyone’s view.
