and the marines."
"That grasseater?"
"He may be," Vicki snapped, "but his nephew... "
"Was charged with fraud in '86, possession of stolen goods in '88, and accessory to murder nine months ago," Barry broke in. "No convictions. Got off on a technicality all three times. I ran him this afternoon."
"And the emergency," Colin growled, teeth bared.
"Peter's missing."
Grasses and weeds whipped at his legs; trees flickered past in the periphery of his sight, unreal shadow images barely seen before they were gone; the barrier of a fence became no barrier at all as he vaulted the wire net and landed still running. Henry had always known that the wer were capable of incredible bursts of speed but he never knew how fast until that night. Making no effort to elude him, Cloud merely raced toward her twin, not far ahead but far enough that he feared he could never catch her.
With her moonlight-silvered shape remaining so horribly just out of reach, Henry would have traded his immortal life for the ability to shapechange given to his kind by tradition. All else being equal, four legs were faster and more sure than two.
All else, therefore, could not be equal.
He hadn't run like this in many years, and he threw all he was into the effort to close the gap. This was a race he had to win, for if one couldn't be saved, the other had to be.
Spraying dirt and gravel in a great fan-shaped tail, Celluci fought the car through the turn at the end of the lane without losing speed. The suspension bottomed out as they drove into and out of a massive pothole and the oil pan shrieked a protest as it dragged across a protruding rock. The constant machine gun staccato of stones thrown up against the undercarriage of the car made conversation impossible.
Stuart kept up a continuous deep-throated growl.
Over it all, Celluci kept hearing the voice of memory.
"You're willing to be judge and jury - who's to be the executioner? Or are you going to do that, too?"
He very much feared he was about to get his answer and he prayed Vicki would arrive too late to be a part of it.
By the time Cloud reached the open door of the barn, Henry ran right at her tail. Another step, maybe two and he could stop her, just barely in time.
Then Cloud caught the scent of her twin and, snarling, sprang forward.
As her feet left the packed dirt, Henry saw with horror where she'd land. Saw the false floor. Saw the steel jaws beneath. With all he had left, he threw himself at her in a desperate flying tackle.
He knew as he grabbed her that it wasn't going to be quite enough so he twisted and shielded the struggling wer with his body as they hit the floor and rolled.
Two traps sprang shut, one closing impotently on a few silver-white hairs, the other cheated entirely of a prize.
From the floor, Henry took in a kaleidoscope of images - the russet body lying motionless on the table, the mortal standing over it, covered neck to knees with a canvas apron, the slender knife gleaming dully in the lamplight - and by the time he rose to a crouch, one arm still holding the panting Cloud, he knew. Anger, red and hot, surged through him.
Then Cloud squirmed free and attacked.
For the second time that night Mark Williams looked death in the face; only this time, he knew it wouldn't pause. He screamed and fell back against the table, felt hot breath against his throat and the kiss of one ivory fang then suddenly, nothing. Self preservation took over and without stopping to think, he grabbed for the shotgun.
Henry fought with Cloud, fought with his own blood lust. She's a seventeen-year-old girl, barely more than a child. She must not be allowed to kill. The wer no longer lived apart from humans and their values. What point victory now if she spent the rest of her life with that kind of a stain on her soul? Over and over, as she tried to tear herself out of his grip, he said the only words he knew would get through to her.
"He's still alive, Cloud. Storm is still alive."
Finally she stilled, whimpered once, then turned toward the table, muzzle raised to catch her brother's scent. A second whimper turned to a howl.
With her attention now fixed on Storm rather than death, Henry stood. "Stay where you are," he commanded and Cloud dropped to