Part 16 (2/2)

”I'm hoping with a little more visability, other Weres will start to hear about We're Not.”

”We're not what?” Talking to him was like walking into thick fog. I was getting more and more confused.

”No. We, apostrophe re. Get it? We're Not. As in we're not Weres. Kinda catchy don't you think? I thought it was much better than Weres-R-Us or Recovering Weres twelve step program.”

I thought he was crazier than a Road Runner cartoon. ”Sorry, William was it?”

”Willie. Less threatening.”

He was right about that. Willie the recovering Were. And this is what I'd waited on Bran for?

My look must have screamed as much as Bran stepped closer and said, ”The Weres have been deep in the middle of this. And that's before the attack by the two last night.”

”That's what gives Weres such a bad reputation,” Willie interjected.

A well-deserved reputation I wanted to point out. Who said I couldn't hold my tongue?

Francois threw an arm across Willie's shoulder. A move that had me cringing and stepping back. Except nothing happened. No blood. No head forcibly removed from the body. Nothing.

Just two heteros.e.xual buddies having a good time.

I must have fallen down a rabbit hole.

Shaking my head to clear it I ignored the Were, recovering or not, and Francois, who grinned a smile that dared me to say something, and focused on Bran. ”I still have to find the doctor. You coming?”

I surprised myself by asking. I think I surprised him too as he nodded at Francois and Willie before falling in beside me.

We walked in silence for a bit, in spite of the crushed gravel. I was always amazed at how stealthily s.h.i.+fters and Weres could move as I was the only one making noise, but then I was the only one in stilettos.

”What's your new friend going to help with?” I asked, not bothering to keep my voice down. Weres have great hearing, and eyesight, and smell. They are like s.h.i.+fters that way. The difference is s.h.i.+fters can change at will, whereas Weres are moon driven. They can change outside of a full moon but it is a painful process. Plus they are driven to change based on the phase of the moon. s.h.i.+fters have a lot more flexibility and can ignore the moon's cycles.

Weres on the other hand could communicate to one another while in their animal form, the most powerful and older ones at least. Only a few very rare s.h.i.+fters could speak once their animal self manifested. My father was one of them, but my brothers could not.

Someday, maybe, but Van wouldn't if we didn't find him and make sure he lived.

I hadn't realized I had started walking faster until Bran put a hand on my arm. ”You're worried. Has something happened?”

”Not yet.” But that was the problem. I expected something, something bad. And you know what they say, what you focus on you get.

”We here?” he asked a few minutes later as we stood on an empty street. On one side was what looked like an office building, an office building Parisian style with two wings thrusting toward the street and the main wing hunkered low and far from the sidewalk.

But that's not the direction I found myself facing. It was the park area across the street calling to me. A U-shaped area bordered by shrubs and large trees on three sides, a white rock path bracketing a sweep of mowed lawn and deep into the area a bronze statue. Not Rodan's Thinker but something with more ma.s.s. Park benches were scattered along the path, several of them occupied with what looked like ordinary office workers. A few strollers hugged the far shadows. It should have looked calm and innocent but something was telling me it wasn't.

”He's over there?” Bran brushed shoulders with me.

It was a sign of how unnerved I felt that I jumped when he spoke. I nodded my head, a slow, methodical movement. ”I don't know where, but the spell indicates somewhere in that park.”

”Then that's where we need to go.” Francois was all business now.

Were Willie was the one who broke the tension. Or added to it as he said, ”There are Weres around. Several powerful ones. A s.h.i.+fter, too. In distress I'd say.”

I couldn't see or smell any though I usually could if they were close enough. I guess it could take a Were to recognize a Were.

Francois glanced at Bran but spoke to me. ”We still 'going in' as you Yanks say?”

I didn't bother answering as I stepped into the empty street to cross it. Even the roar of traffic was muted here. A few birds twittered but I didn't see any. A man turned the page of the newspaper he was reading but as I moved deeper into the park with Bran to one side, Francois and Willie on the other, there was very little sound.

Until the scream erupted.

CHAPTER 34.

Jeb heard his son's shout. The cry of a wolf in agony. Wolves are silent hunters, no growls, no snarls, no yips. The fact Van was howling meant something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He started running down a street that seemed far too long, Pdraig nipping at his heels.

The younger man cried out, ”That didn't sound good.”

”It isn't.”

Jeb skidded around a corner and spotted the green s.p.a.ce on his right. The park? Here?

The scream came again. Somewhere deeper into the gra.s.sy area. A couple of people were running toward the street, away from the sound, looking over their shoulders.

”Van,” he shouted. ”Van, where are you?”

A man shrieked, the sound cut off suddenly.

Jeb crossed the street, skirting parked cars and ran toward the nearest pathway.

”You sure this is a good idea?” Pdraig panted beside him. ”Shouldn't we wait for the police?”

Jeb shook his head, scanning the area, but he couldn't see anything. Three men and a woman were running toward a group against the far edge, near a statue. Four or five men huddled together, but it wasn't clear what they were doing.

”Sir, we really should wait.” Pdraig's voice sounded high and winded.

”My son's here. Somewhere.”

Jeb stepped onto the gra.s.s. Better to get a wider view.

The huddle of men in the back broke open just as the girl who looked like Alex running toward them was tackled by a dark-haired man behind her.

That's when he saw Van. In his wolf form.

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