I turned and followed him. I didn’t dare look behind me.
We hopped the fence, first the kid, then me. Jeffrey stood by the car, holding open the passenger side door. He also held a Club—the attached to the steering wheel so the car doesn’t get stolen kind of Club—in his right hand, ready to swing it like it was, well, a club. Just in case something was following.
I shoved the kid into the back and piled in immediately after him. Jeffrey jumped in the front seat and slammed shut the door.
The pale wolf crashed into the door, jaws open, slobbering on the window.
Stockton was filming it.
“Roger, would you put down that camera and drive?” I shouted.
The second time the wolf charged us, causing the whole car to rock on its wheels, Stockton put the camera down and started the engine. We pulled out onto the road a second later.
My straggler curled up in his seat. Hugging himself, he shook, sweat breaking out on his face. He mumbled, “Stop it . . . stop it . . .”
He was starting to Change. It began inside, a feeling like an animal clawing its way out. It hurt more when you tried to keep it from happening. When you couldn’t stop the Change from happening.
I grabbed him, taking hold of his face and making him look at me. “Keep it together, okay? Take a deep breath. Slow breath. Good, that’s good. Nice and easy, keep it together.” His breathing slowed; he stopped trembling. After another moment, he even relaxed a little. Some of the tension left his arms.
He closed his eyes. He wouldn’t look at me.
“What’s your name?”
He needed a moment to catch his breath. “Ty. It’s Ty.”
“Nice to meet you, Ty.” He nodded quickly, nervously, keeping his head down. I moved a hand to his shoulder—a light touch to keep him anchored in his body—and sat back.
Now maybe I could catch my breath.
I didn’t want to think about the can of worms we’d opened. In the long run, Smith being gone could only be a good thing. But all those people were homeless now, and confused. And monsters. At least we were in the middle of nowhere. They could only hurt each other. Which was bad enough.
“Kitty, you’re bleeding.” Jeffrey stared at me between the two front seats.
Blood covered my right arm. Just looking at it sent waves of pain riding through my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I said, gritting my teeth. “It’ll be fine by morning.”
“The rapid healing, that’s true?” Stockton said. The reporter turned his camera onto me, holding it between the front seats with one hand while steering with the other and only half watching the road. “Can I watch?”
“No.” I glared until he set the thing down. I took the charm off and handed it to the front seat. Roger accepted it, pulling the chain over his head. “Roger, your grandmother got you into this, didn’t she? The fairy charms, the supernatural. Working for Uncharted World.”
He smiled wryly. “Some people think I’m on that show because I’m a crappy reporter. I could be on CNN if I wanted. Except I believe. No, I don’t believe. I know. The supernatural—it’s like any other mystery. You find enough evidence, you can prove the truth. This gig gets me closer to that.” Just like Flemming. The search for truth. Stockton was just traveling a different road. “So—you sure you won’t let me film you next full moon?”
“No.”
“How about you, kid?”
“What?” Ty looked woozy.
“No,” I said.
Stockton chuckled, entirely too amused. “Hey—where are we going?”
I found my phone in my pocket, turned it on, and hesitated, because I didn’t know who I could call for help. I hated to say that my first impulse was to call Cormac. He’d know what to do with a couple dozen rogue vampires and werewolves rampaging the countryside. Unfortunately, his solution would involve lots of silver bullets and stakes, and we’d end up with a bunch of corpses. I was trying to avoid that.
My next idea was to call Ahmed. I didn’t have a phone number for the Crescent, so I called information. They were able to get me through to the restaurant side. A cheery-sounding hostess whose voice I didn’t recognize answered the phone.
“Good evening, this is the Crescent. May I help you?”