Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles) - By Nancy Holder Page 0,115

then to dark gray. Moonrise would come soon. Katelyn remembered nights at the beach when she and Kimi would wait for the green flash on the water’s horizon, holding their breath, squinting, giggling. But this was anything but a game.

“I don’t like this,” Regan said. “It’s another trick.”

“They had a white flag,” Doug pointed out.

“When have they ever acted honorably?” Regan said. “And as for her . . .”

Katelyn’s dislike and suspicion of Regan flared. Regan was an ambitious backstabber. Katelyn doubted she had ever put the pack before her own wishes and desires. Her father just had never realized it.

“Get ready,” Arial said.

Moments later Justin re-emerged. He glanced over his shoulder and then began striding toward Katelyn. The air reeked with the smell of silver. Justin gagged and clapped his hand over his mouth. In the same moment, the sky exploded with flares going off and fire bombs hurtling through the air toward them and exploding all around. Katelyn screamed and fell to the ground, her hands over her ears. The Gaudins were striking first.

Thoughts and words flew out of her head as she cowered against the earth. She didn’t know anything that was happening around her; everything was chaos. Bodies and people and blood —

— and smoke.

Fire!

Justin was crouched over her, his arms around her waist, dragging her somewhere. The silver stench was overpowering. The smoke, paralyzing. She couldn’t remember how to move her body. She just screamed and screamed and screamed.

“They’re trying to drive us toward the water,” Justin said.

He fell backwards and Katelyn landed on top of him. Then a flash of fur hurtled itself at the two of them. Still screaming, without thinking, Katelyn’s hand found the gun in her holster and fired off a shot. The wolf howled and plummeted to the ground less than six inches from her feet. Frantically she kicked at it as Justin threw his arms around her, then rolled her sideways and got on top of her.

Trees were going up like roman candles; werewolves were transforming all around Justin and her. She didn’t recognize anyone, didn’t know who was on her side and who was an enemy. She only had four silver bullets left and she cursed herself for not sneaking more out of the garage.

Luc Gaudin rushed at her, changing as he ran. His clothing burst off his body and he raced toward her on two legs that were rapidly changing into the legs of a wolf. His jaw stretched, his eyes looked mean.

Justin yanked the gun from her hands and aimed it at Luc’s half-transformed head. It exploded. Katelyn screamed uncontrollably.

“Kat, stop!” Justin bellowed, handing back the gun and furiously wiping his hand on his pants.

Fire rose around her, caging her, and she whirled in a panicked circle. A gray wolf flashed past, and Katelyn’s mind registered that it was Regan. Regan leaped through a hole in the wall of fire, and then the hole closed up.

Heat blazed around her. Through the whoosh of the firestorm she heard shouting, gunfire. She was going to die like her father and her mother. The wind shifted and smoke poured over her, choking her, and Katelyn stumbled forward and ran into something that gave way. She grabbed it, felt it. A vine. Desperately, she gave it a tug. It held.

She jumped and began to hoist herself up the way circus people and gymnasts did: looping the vine around her ankle, propelling herself upward. Coughing, feeling her skin blistered, she kept going. Surrounded by smoke, heat, noise, her eyes closed, she kept on climbing. Then the vine jerked hard and as she caught her breath, she inhaled smoke and began to cough uncontrollably. As she convulsed, the vine jerked again, and she was sure it was going to give way. She thought she was going to say, “Help,” but what came out was “Trick.”

She tried to scramble up, but was coughing too hard and suddenly her hands slipped and skin tore from her palms. The vine was still wrapped around her ankle so she used it for leverage, pushing up as hard as she could, waving her hand above her head, trying to feel for a more solid section of vine. Leaves brushed against her fingertips and she stretched as hard as she could, finally wrapping her hand around a thick branch, scooting along it onto a weighty limb. She let go of the vine with her other hand and hung for a moment while she fought for control of her