Nightfall (Devil's Night #4) - Penelope Douglas Page 0,226

no!” Rika called as Banks lunged for the kid.

But she was gone.

No matter.

I looked to Micah, Rory, and then Em. “Aydin and Taylor,” I said.

They nodded.

The train went under Deadlow Island. I didn’t know how they’d gotten that far, or if they had help, but the tunnel could’ve certainly connected to Coldfield and the Cove tunnels, as well.

Michael shook his head. “Two nights ago…”

They’d been here for two days.

Motherfucker.

“And they just announced their presence,” Kai said, staring off at the black cloud dissipating into the air off the coast.

The town swarmed around us, people hopping into their cars, while others chatted wildly.

“Get out of your dresses,” Michael told the girls. “Everyone meets at Coldfield in thirty minutes! Go!”

Emory

Present

Lev and David carted everyone home in the SUVs, and after we’d scrambled into new clothes, and the kids and grandmas were secure at Kai’s parents’ estate, safely under the care of Katsu and Vittoria, we raced down the black highway, pulling on jackets. I slipped on a pair of black leather gloves Banks lent to me, since it was chilly.

But I was pretty sure it was because she didn’t want me leaving fingerprints.

I didn’t argue. She’d had more experience in this. The girls had filled me in last night on everything I’d missed over the years—Delcour, the Pope, Pithom, Evans Crist, Gabriel Torrance, and everything the guys did wrong—and right—in their quests for vengeance.

And Trevor. I’d known he was dead but not the extent of his demise. It all should’ve scared me. It was a lot to take in.

But I couldn’t help it. Something bubbled up inside me as Will drove, and I couldn’t believe how running wasn’t even an option. Even with the fear knotting my stomach, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Sensing him staring at me, I pulled my black ski cap on and glanced over at him in his black hoodie, and the veins in his tattooed hands bulging out as he gripped the wheel. His eyes flashed to me again, his mouth opening and closing.

“Stop looking at me,” I said, facing forward. “I’m coming, and you’re not stopping me.”

I knew he was worried about the mess he’d gotten me into, but he was forgetting that this was all my mess, too. I didn’t run anymore.

We pulled into Coldfield, the place swelling with a crowd, the explosion down on Old Pointe Road drawing people out of their houses instead of back in. Will didn’t even bother looking for a parking spot. He pulled up behind two cars, blocking them in, and shut off the engine.

Another SUV pulled up behind us, and everyone climbed out of both cars.

Will and I walked to the rear of the vehicle and pulled open the hatchback. He dug in a duffle bag, handing everyone their mask, but no one put them on yet, simply hooking them onto their belts.

Misha and Ryen jogged up, dressed in street clothes and ready to rock.

Will narrowed his eyes at his cousin, pausing. “What are you doing?”

But Misha just reached down, pulling out a black mask with a blue stripe. “This belong to anybody?”

Will dropped his eyes. “You don’t have to be here, man. You don’t have to be involved.”

Misha stared at him. “Yes, I do.”

He strapped his mask onto his belt and dug back into the bag, pulling out a white one for Ryen.

Will gazed between them, a smile slowly forming at his cousin diving into the fray with us. “And my wolfpack, it grew,” he said, choking on fake tears, “it grew by two.”

“Shut up,” Ryen told him.

Misha snorted, all three of them grinning ear to ear at The Hangover reference.

Misha and Ryen stepped away, and I didn’t know much about them, but I knew Misha wasn’t a Horseman and he wasn’t the typical Thunder Bay rich boy. Will was family, though, and he was here for family.

Will grabbed one more mask out of the bag, a yellow one with blood around the mouth and eyes.

“They could be distracting us,” Micah told him. “Drawing us out there, so they can destroy the town while we’re running around in circles.”

“They have nothing to gain,” Will told him. “Their beef is with us. They want to confront us. They’re not going to make it hard for us to find them.”

Then he held the mask out to me.

“Real monsters don’t wear masks,” I teased.

He shrugged. “Real monsters might not care about being identified, either. No mask, no fun for you.”

Aw, my man. Layin’ down the law. God, it turned