and the painting — together. Had someone broken into their cabin specifically to get that painting? What about the other painting? Maybe they’d stolen a few other things — the silver — to cover their tracks. She’d put the clippings in her dresser drawer and hadn’t thought to look for them when Justin had driven her home; she’d had a lot of other things on her mind.
“You okay?” Trick asked her. “You’re trembling.”
She shook herself. “Yeah, sorry,” she said. It wasn’t something she could share with him. Or anyone. For sure she wasn’t telling Justin. It was a bad feeling to know how utterly alone in this she really was.
They reached the top floor, which was completely dark. Trick’s flashlight revealed mounds of rubbish piled like haystacks. She heard squeaking. Rats. Her lips began to curl and she could feel a low rumbling starting in her chest. Horrified that she was reacting like a wolf and not a girl, she pressed her hand against her mouth.
Trick stopped, flashlight swinging back and forth. “Did you hear something?” he whispered.
She could feel panic rising in her but she forced it down. “My stomach growled. I missed lunch,” she said.
“We’ll get something after this,” Trick said. “I’m hungry, too.”
Mincing along, the two of them moved onto one of the balconies; then, drawn by watery light ahead of them, they walked toward a wall of leaded glass windows so dirty the sun could barely penetrate them.
When they reached the glass, Trick rubbed one of the panes with a wadded up paper napkin from his backpack. Layers of grime smeared away to reveal a blurry oval. Trick peered through it first, then grunted and gestured to Katelyn.
There was the old fountain, encircled by bits and pieces of wolf statues, topped by the headless statue of the alpha. Beyond, there was another chain link fence; and beyond that, they were staring at an amphitheater filled with bare-chested men whose faces and chests were smeared with crimson. Many of them were pounding wildly on drums. As if by a prearranged signal, they all threw back their heads and howled.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “That can’t be blood. That has to be red paint, or body makeup.”
“Yeah,” he replied, sounding unconvinced.
“That’s it! Let out your inner wolf!” said an amplified voice.
Katelyn recognized it from their confrontation outside the Wolf Springs tavern. Jack Bronson himself was standing on the stage in a polo shirt and Dockers, wearing a headset.
“Be free! Feel the power of the wolf surging through you!”
“Bozo,” Katelyn muttered.
Trick jerked his head toward her. “Did you hear that? Was that you again?”
She cocked her head, unsure what he was referring to.
“I heard a real growl,” he said. “Like an animal.” He took her hand again, clenching it hard. “Kat, there’s something in here with us.”
Katelyn’s heart began to pound as Trick stood statue-still. She hadn’t heard anything.
Oh no, what if it was me? What if she had growled again and hadn’t even realized? But what if it wasn’t me?
Her heart pounded even harder and her hearing went crazy. She could hear Trick’s breathing, fast, frightened; his heartbeat, strong and muffled. The idiots outside the window, as they howled for all they were worth, then stopped.
And in the silence she heard something else.
Click. Click. Click.
8
Dread caught Katelyn. It was the sound from her nightmares, claws clicking on the ground as a creature walked through the darkness.
Trick was still clenching her hand and she yanked on it as she ran-walked back across the room. Then she couldn’t contain her instinct to flee any longer.
“Run!” she whispered.
She didn’t need to tell Trick twice. He was right beside her as they raced across the debris in their path. They made it to the stairs and the beam from his flashlight bounced and skittered across the marble. Katelyn wanted to tell him to turn it off, but realized that her werewolf senses were allowing her to see in the dark — he didn’t have that advantage.
Trick gripped the handrail tight as they descended in a blur. Katelyn had always been sure-footed, an essential skill for a gymnast and a dancer, and as the old marble was slippery and covered with layers of dust, her shoes slipped against the stone, but she was able to adjust her weight to keep herself from sliding.
Somewhere in the darkness, a growl echoed off the walls.
It was followed almost immediately by the crash of splintering wood as the ancient railing gave way beneath Trick’s hand and plummeted