sight. Most of the humans probably know you, too, considering all the times you’ve been in the news.”
I made a little choking sound in my throat, but he continued, ignoring it.
“Most of the dominant wolves in our pack know about Rohrik’s promise. We’re supposed to be keeping an eye on you and helping when we can. There wasn’t much we could do to interfere with the Sunstrikers’ keeping such close tabs on you. When you ran off into the park a few months ago, I arranged to run into you. This time? Pure coincidence, but it doesn’t change anything. I’ve got my orders.”
“Great. So you’re stalking me now?”
“Not at all. Consider us a safety net. We’re there to catch you if you fall. Like today.”
That shut me up. My fingers crept back to the cuts on my arm, rubbing at the healing wounds through my shirt. Would it be so bad, being one of the Moonwalkers? Aside from Rohrik Donovan’s being the one responsible for the Others coming out of hiding and announcing themselves to the world, I knew next to nothing about the Moonwalker pack. David Borowsky, the crazy sorcerer, had tried to use them to set himself up as the leader over all the Others in New York almost a year ago. Rohrik and I had fought; he walked away with a few bruises, and I got a stint in the hospital that lasted for months.
Oh, the Moonwalkers had made good on the promise to help me afterwards, but we hadn’t had much interaction. Aside from a personal visit from Rohrik to apologize for smashing my ribs into itty bits, I’d had very little contact with any of that pack since I got out of the hospital.
The Moonwalkers and Sunstrikers had never gotten along. This cab driver had once referred to the Sunstrikers as a bunch of good-for-nothing show-offs. Chaz had never had anything nice to say about the Moonwalkers either, though his comments were usually far more disparaging.
I glanced at the ID card plastered between the seats to get the cabbie’s name, something I’d neglected to do before. “Look, Mario, not that I’m not grateful for the help, but it’s pretty freaking creepy that you guys may or may not be shadowing me. Are you the only one, or are there others in your pack watching out for me?”
“Mark Roberts has been helping you,” he pointed out, making me blush at having forgotten the obvious connection—my accountant, the balding father of three, who had given me cut-rate deals on my corporate books and personal taxes ever since I saved the Moonwalkers. “He likes you, you know. Talks about you once in a while when the pack gets together. There are a few others, but I don’t think it’s my place to discuss this with you.”
I made a noncommittal sound in answer and turned my attention outward, staring out the window at the passing cars and buildings. It wouldn’t be much longer before we’d reach my tiny apartment in Terrace Heights. My lease was up in a few months. Recalling that also brought up memories of plans made over wine and candlelight to move into Chaz’s much bigger brownstone. The thoughts were jarring and painful, and I might very well have started crying again if I hadn’t been so exhausted by my ordeal. It was too soon to think about moving again, too soon to be making plans that didn’t involve a future with that lying son of a bitch.
My returning anger warmed me to my chilled core. I’d have to be very careful of my choices over the next few hours. I would meet with Rohrik Donovan and get a feel for what he was like and what his plans were for me. Since the supernatural grapevine would no doubt be buzzing with the news of my infection before long, as soon as my meeting with Rohrik was over I’d call Arnold and swear him to secrecy. I couldn’t risk his accidentally slipping the news to Sara or my parents. That would be followed by a call to Royce to see what, if anything, this might do to change or void our contract.
It was the first time I’d thought of the vampire in a while, other than as a tool to use to hurt Chaz. Royce was older than dirt, and had a streak of possessiveness. He might be tempted to do something to take revenge on the Sunstrikers.