The freakmaker,she whispered as we approached the compound’s locked gate.
What?
That’s what they’re calling me now. It beats some of the other nicknames—
A sizzling pop rent the air, and she gasped.
Lori?
She seized.Run.Get—away.
Another pop.
Lori released a bone-chilling whine and slumped.
Lori?!I searched the abounding night for something. Someone.
Snowflakes hit my crazed eyes, made them water. Sulfur. Copper. Both hung heavy in the air.
I returned my attention to Lori’s collapsed form, pressed my nose into her neck, found a pulse. She wasn’t dead.
Not dead.
Warmth seeped into the pads of my front paws, steamed off the snow.
Blood.
So much blood.
Lori, where were you shot?I wasn’t expecting her to answer. Not really. I was mostly trying to keep her conscious.Stay with me.I ran my nose over her fur until I met a spot of wetness at the juncture of her shoulder.
She let out a feeble grunt.
As long as the bullet hadn’t pierced a vital organ, she should be fine. She was, after all, immune to silver. Unlike me.
I rubbed my nose against the snow, in case silver had leaked into her blood, then raised my head and howled my distress. Even in skin, the gatekeeper would grasp the urgency. Or one of the shifters, who’d stayed behind on the compound.
Nikki . . . go . . .Lori croaked.
I’m not leaving you.
Please. I don’t want you to—Her long throat bobbed.Just . . . go.Please.
No.What I was going to do, though, was get into skin, because I needed fingers.
A minute later, I was hunched over her. Snow hit my hunched back, each flake prodding my flesh like a needle. Delicately, I handled her shoulder. She flinched.
“Sorry.” My hands shook as my fingertips grazed a deep depression. Gradually, I rolled her onto her side to locate the exit wound, but her fur was so wet with sweat and snow, and my damn hair kept falling into my eyes. I shoved it back. “Can you shift?”
For a moment, nothing happened, and I wondered if she’d even heard me. But then a hollow pop dislocated her shoulder socket and her fur receded and her muscles stretched.
Her skin was as pale as the sky and land, and a wide streak of blood ran across her chest like a red sash. The sight of the entry wound, jagged and as wide as an egg, made bile rise and spill out of me. After clearing my stomach, I turned back toward Lori, wishing I had a scrap of fabric to use to fill the wound. Would packing snow inside of it help?
I wanted to yowl in frustration.
A hollow shudder raced across Lori’s body as I combed back the light brown hair plastered to her forehead. Her skin was cool to the touch, her pulse sluggish, her breathing labored.
“So, what island are you thinking?” Why wasn’t anyone coming? Had there been another fire? Had I not hollered loud enough? “The Caribbean? Tahiti?”
