Wolfsbane and Mistletoe Page 0,48
take a picture. And it wasn't a wolf, and he was drawn by the promise of easy prey, of slaughter -
He buried his face in his arm to stop the vision. He choked on a sob, because his mouth was watering. At the same time, he wanted to vomit.
That wasn't a memory. Just overactive imagination. He couldn't remember. Couldn't.
He imagined Kitty's voice telling him to slow his breathing, to hold the panic at bay. To keep it together.
Crawling on his belly, infantry-like, he inched forward to get a better look.
Kitty expected David to follow her back to the booth, after he settled down. They'd wait for news, hope for the best.
Surely he'd remember something if he'd killed someone. Surely. But who could say? For all her bluster, she knew so little about it.
Minutes passed, and he didn't return. Not that she could blame him if he'd decided to avoid her. Maybe stay in the bathroom, hiding from everyone. This whole spending the holidays with people thing left something to be desired.
Finally, she went back to the bathrooms to check. He wasn't in the women's anymore. For the best, probably. She knocked on the door to the men's. "David?" she called, and got no answer. She opened the door a crack, peered in. Empty. So where had he gone?
From the back hallway, the kitchen was visible, all stainless steel surfaces and stove tops. The single cook on duty leaned on a counter, looking out at the TV. And on the other side of the room was a door to the outside.
Her heart thudded, contemplating what he was doing. She'd been stupid, confronting him like that. Now she'd driven him off. Who knew what he would do, an out-of-control werewolf roaming the countryside?
Of course, now it was up to her to clean up the mess. Or at least keep it from getting worse.
Crouching to avoid drawing the cook's attention, she dashed across the kitchen and went through the door, which was already unlocked. As if someone had been this way already. Outside was freezing. But her blood was warm, Wolf running through her, firing her senses. Scent, sound, feel - she searched for his trail by the way the hairs on the back of her neck tingled. She felt the heat of his footsteps on the ground.
Breaking into a jog, she followed his trail, the faint touch of his scent, like a taste in the back of her throat. She let a bit of Wolf bleed into her consciousness. A bit of the hunter, tracking one of her own.
She shouldn't have been surprised to find the trail leading straight toward what was clearly a crime scene of epic proportions. Flashing blue and red flared out over the countryside, turning the darkness into a surreal disco parody. The snow fell heavier now, large flakes burning on her skin. They glittered in the lights. She'd forgotten her coat, but hardly noticed; she was sweating from the exertion.
Not wanting to get caught, and certainly not wanting to answer questions about why she was out here, she dropped to the ground. She assumed David had done the same, since she couldn't see him silhouetted against the lights. Instead, she saw what must have been dozens of cops milling inside a taped-off area.
And she smelled blood. Great quantities of reeking, rotten blood and bile. People hadn't just died, they'd been shredded. Her human sensibilities gagged. The Wolf merely catalogued the information: several bodies, human, gutted, and they'd been out awhile. Carrion, Wolf thought. Kitty shook the thought away.
Had they been dead long enough for David to have been the culprit? Almost, she turned around and went back, because she didn't want to know.
Just a little bit farther, though. If she could smell the bodies, she ought to be able to catch a scent of what did this to them. Since she couldn't get close, she concentrated on the land around them. If something had killed them here, then that same something had to have fled. The trail might have been covered with snow now, but she might find a trace of it.
She smelled David.
Pausing a moment, she tasted it, fearing what it meant. But no, this was fresh. Still warm. The touch of him on the air was more human than wolf. He was in human form. His trail didn't have the reek of a predator who'd just devoured prey.
Ahead, she saw him, a dark figure stretched out on the ground, collecting bits of snow in