Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles) - By Nancy Holder Page 0,68

away from the door.

Without warning, it flew open and Arial stood framed by the doorway. Dressed in scarlet and gold and wearing heavy makeup, she crossed her arms and sneered at Katelyn.

“Well, speak of the devil,” she said, raising her voice only slightly, for sensitive werewolf ears to hear.

“What’s going on?” Katelyn asked, taking another step back. Fear pricked at her scalp and her body started to quiver. Run, it told her. Flee.

Trembling, she ticked a glance toward the tree line, wondering if she could make it there before the others caught her. A moment later she realized that was foolish. Some of them could shift into wolves at will and they would hunt her down and maul her to death.

It’s just a primitive response, she told herself. Fight or flight. The animal part of me.

Except . . . the people in the house were animals, too.

Justin appeared in the doorway behind Arial. “Kat, come in,” he said, voice tense.

She didn’t want to, but she didn’t see that she had any other choice. When Arial didn’t give way, she had to push past her and she saw the anger flicker on the face of the higher-ranking girl. Justin led her to the living room where the rest of the Fenner clan was gathered, except for Jesse.

“Jesse’s with Lucy,” Justin said, as though reading her thoughts.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Too much, that’s for damn sure,” Lee Fenner said, voice hardly more than a growl. The others glanced his way, but no one commented. Katelyn knew now that it was considered a sign of weakness or immaturity to display wolf behaviors when in human form. That their alpha was doing it was a symptom of his dementia.

“We’re discussing the murder,” Doug — Regan’s husband — said, sounding kind as he acknowledged Katelyn’s entrance into the room with a lifting of his finger.

“An invasion of our territory, that’s what it is,” Mr. Fenner snarled.

“We’re still not sure that Dom’s pack is behind this,” Albert, Arial’s husband, pointed out, his posture deferential, his tone cautious. Katelyn translated: no one wanted to contradict the alpha.

“They must be. It can’t be one of us,” Justin argued.

“It’s her, of course,” Regan said, tilting her head toward Katelyn.

All eyes were on her.

“What?” Katelyn gasped, stunned.

There was a moment of terrible silence and she could read the fear and hostility in the body language of those around her.

“But I was attacked. And I can’t shift at will,” she finally managed to say.

“And the first girl was killed before Kat got here,” Justin pointed out with a heavy sigh. “So it can’t be her.”

She felt as though she had been slapped in the face. From the tone of his voice he sounded like he wanted it to be her.

“Only one thing is certain,” Doug said. “Someone’s disloyal.”

“Maybe they’re spying on us, going to the Gaudins and telling them all about us,” Regan said.

Katelyn thought of Dom and his brother. They had managed to sneak into Fenner territory to extract Cordelia unobserved.

“Yes. We need to find a way to flush the traitor out,” Mr. Fenner announced. “And then rip out her . . . or his . . . throat.”

Katelyn went cold all over. They were discussing murder. She thought of her lawyer father and what he would have thought of her standing there listening to them. If they kill someone, I’m an accessory, guilty as well, she thought, anxiety pouring through her. I have to get help. Find a way to stop all this madness.

She could hear the others talking, but she was no longer paying attention to what was said. The image of the silver bullets in her grandfather’s garage blazed into her mind. She knew how to shoot a rifle. Could you just put silver bullets in a normal rifle? Could she do that? Her heartbeat roared in her ears. Could she kill these people?

They are not people.

And neither am I.

She trembled so hard she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. She couldn’t feel her shoes against the floor.

“So, it’s settled then,” Mr. Fenner said.

“What is?” She could have kicked herself when he glared at her. She couldn’t afford the luxury of fuzzing out around him.

“You’ll have Thanksgiving dinner with us,” Justin said.

She blinked again. How had they gotten from talking about murder to Thanksgiving?

“But my grandfather expects to have dinner with me . . . er, sir,” she said, desperate for a way out. She couldn’t imagine sitting down to turkey dinner with the Fenner clan and struggling to