Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles) - By Nancy Holder Page 0,41

into the darkness. Trick began to fall as well, yanking Katelyn off balance. She landed hard on her knees, throwing out her free hand to stop herself from nose-diving over the edge while the flashlight cartwheeled end over end, casting crazy shadows over the walls and ceiling before shattering on the floor.

Trick was trying to cling to another part of the banister but it, too, gave way with a crack, and a moment later he was dangling above the inky darkness, holding tightly to Katelyn’s hand. He was going to fall — probably die — if she couldn’t save him.

Adrenaline surged through every cell, every nerve, and she stretched out her legs, testing the base of the banister with her feet, trying to find a solid section to brace herself against. Finally she found one and she reached down and caught Trick’s free hand, then arched her back, pulling for all she was worth.

Trick practically came flying and he landed on top of her with a grunt. He quickly rolled over and sat up.

“She shoots, she scores,” he said. “Thank you, gymnastics.”

“And a lot of adrenaline,” she added quickly, covering for the fact that she had just shown far more strength than she should have.

He jumped to his feet and helped her up. “Superkat, you saved my life.”

Before she could say anything, the hair on the back of her neck raised as another growl erupted close at hand. Menacing, threatening. She turned slowly.

A large German shepherd was crouched a few steps below them, fangs exposed, eyes flashing. It was a guard dog, she realized with renewed panic, which meant there were probably people from the Wolf Center on their way to catch the intruders.

The dog growled low in its throat; a warning, a challenge.

“Easy, boy,” Trick said.

It snapped its jaws at him and he drew back his hand.

“Not easy,” he said. “What are we going to do?”

Katelyn heard more growling, lower, deeper. It’s coming from me. She didn’t know what to do but she went with her gut. Hoping the darkness concealed her actions, she curled her own lips up, revealing her plain, ordinary human teeth.

At least, she hoped they were human. She had been told that older members of the pack could change at will, but that couldn’t happen to her, could it? Impossible. She was young and she’d only been a werewolf for a few weeks. But she shouldn’t be able to touch silver, and she could.

What if Trick sees? What if I hurt him?

She could feel her mind racing into overdrive as she allowed her wolf-part to begin to show, to project itself toward the German shepherd, her low growl still rumbling in the back of her throat. And the dog whined and dropped his head and tail.

She blinked in shock. He had backed down. From me. She held her hand out and he came forward and licked it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Trick said, edging around the dog.

She nodded. She gave the dog a gentle pat on the head and trailed after Trick, running her tongue over her teeth. They still felt human. And she was no longer growling.

They made it to the ground floor and were almost at the front door, the dog trotting next to them, submissive. Something pricked at the back of her mind. Something was still wrong and she suddenly realized what it was: the dog’s nails weren’t making a clicking sound on the marble. They must have been clipped short.

But she had heard a clicking sound.

That meant that something else was stalking them.

With a cry she grabbed Trick’s arm, tore through the door and flew back toward the Mustang. When they reached the fence, she shoved him through and his sleeve tore on one of the corners. She stopped, trying to collect the incriminating fabric, but it just shredded into a smaller piece. And there was no time, for in the back of her mind she could still hear the clicking of phantom nails.

Trick had reached the Mustang and was yanking open the driver’s side door.

Moving on, Katelyn caught the glint of something silver on the ground in the bushes and her eyes seemed to zoom in on it: a piece of flatware — a knife — with a shield and a rose on the handle. It resembled the McBride stained glass coat of arms in the cabin window. A piece of the silver stolen from her grandfather’s cabin? For a moment she thought about grabbing it and going back to