“ARE YOU SURE you don’t need any help?” Sun asked for the third time.
I was hobbling, but I was sure I was hobbling faster than I had been when I first pulled myself out of the hole in the floor. The monster trap. Who the hell puts a pit in a room specifically to trap monsters? This guy, obviously—so who was he again?
Before we left his—apartment? shop?—I limped to the edge and looked down, hoping for some clue about where I’d come from and how I’d gotten turned around. The stairs I’d pulled myself up looked like a normal, rickety set of cellar stairs, and they descended through what seemed to be a trapdoor cut in the floor, leading to a musty basement room. The whole thing, from the doorway to the stairs to the room itself, looked a lot smaller than it had before.
I wasn’t sure I could trust any of my perceptions from the moment I stumbled over the edge and fell.
Sun led me out the door of his kitchen onto a narrow alley. The building we’d left was brick, eighty or so years old, decorated with fire escapes and signage with Chinese characters. The alley had a canyonlike quality. A set of trash cans had been put out, and a nondescript car was parked a block away. It was full night, dark and chilly—midnight, according to the phone. The sky above seemed hazy. The air still smelled like San Francisco’s air.
We walked down the street, turned a corner, then another. I looked for street signs and tried to keep track of where I was. We were still in Chinatown—a lamppost across the street had a dragon sculpture climbing up it. Everything was locked up, steel doors and grilles pulled over the fronts. We were the only ones out.
I walked as fast as I could, even when Sun tried to slow down for my benefit. “I can keep up,” I said.
“I thought it’d be a little easier on you if we took it slow.”
“Time’s an issue here. I’m fine.”
“What’s really going on? How’s Grace wrapped up in this?”
“How well do you know her?” I said.
“It’s not like we’re best friends or anything. I just know her. Is she in trouble?” He sounded curious rather than concerned.
I couldn’t explain it all. It was too complicated, and I didn’t understand much of it myself. “It’s nothing, never mind.”
“You seem pretty worried.”
I almost snapped at him, a wolfish gesture. Maybe I’d feel better if I Changed. Maybe it would help my leg. Yeah, Change and do what? Go where? Track Ben by scent? Run down and maul Sun while I was at it? He didn’t deserve that.
“I’m fine,” I muttered yet again.
When we arrived on the street with the video store, I didn’t recognize it—I’d only seen the place from the back. A big yellow sign over the front said Video, along with some Chinese characters; faded posters hung in the windows.
“Here we are,” Sun said. “Is Grace supposed to be here?”
“There’s a back door in an alley,” I said. “Do you know how to get around to the back?” I could probably find it. We had to be near where we met Anastasia in the first place.
“If you told me what was wrong, I might be able to help you.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“If it’s a secret—”
“No. I just don’t think I’m capable of explaining the last five hours to anyone.”
When I drew the next breath, I caught a scent, a familiar flavor at odds with the city smells around me. Wild, fur—werewolf. Turning around, I tipped my nose up to find where it was coming from and how far away it was.
The scent was strong, getting close fast, and it wasn’t another attack. My Wolf leaped in response. Warm, familiar, perfect—the smell was Ben. His wolf—a sleek shape of gray and tawny fur, narrow snout and long, rangy legs, tail out like a rudder, ears pinned back—raced up the street, taking huge strides, claws clacking on pavement. It should have been incongruous, seeing a large wolf running through the middle of a street in San Francisco. I should have been worried that Ben had shifted alone in the city, but I was too happy to see him. I stepped into his path.
Instead of coming to me, he angled toward Sun. His lips pulled back in a snarl, a challenge. He thought Sun was an enemy.
“No, Ben, it’s okay!” I ran to intercept him, diving at him because what else could I do. He was too fast; I didn’t tackle him like I wanted to, but managed to grab his leg and gave a good hard yank. And I yelped as another wave of pain racked my hip.
Whirling, he snapped at me, then dipped his head and tail and snuggled close. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his ruff. He was so warm, and he smelled so much like home, I could have breathed in his scent all night.
“It’s okay, he’s not hurting me, he’s helping. Shh, I’m okay, I’m okay.” I wasn’t, because I’d wrenched my hip again, landing hard on the street and acquiring more bruises, and I was worried and tired and confused. But Ben was here, no matter what form he was in. For now, I was okay.
Deep in his throat, he whined. Nuzzling toward me, he pushed my face away from him so he could start licking, warm, soft swipes of his tongue up my chin and cheeks. He cleaned away the tears that were falling.
He leaned against me and I wrapped my arms around him. It was as close as we could get to a hug. His mouth was open, panting worried breaths, but his hackles had flattened.
Sun watched us. I expected him to run screaming at the sight of the big slavering wolf. Most people would have. But he didn’t flinch. Maybe he wasn’t even surprised.
“That’s a pretty big dog,” Sun said.
“It’s not a dog, it’s my husband!”
“Huh. That’s progressive.”
“Shut up, he’s a werewolf, too.”
“Yeah? Hi there.” Sun waved.
Ben glared at him over my shoulder—his eyes were amber, challenging. I had to take care of him, get him someplace safe where he could go to sleep and shift back to human. Where he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He was probably thinking he had to take care of me, protect me. We were deep in unknown territory here, and all we had was each other.
I rubbed him hard, burying my hands in his thick fur, wrapping myself around him to take in that warmth. “What are you doing, Ben? What happened? You shouldn’t be like this.”
But of course he couldn’t answer. Not in words. His emotions poured off him, though, in wolfish body language. He was anxious, relieved to find me. He wouldn’t stop pressing himself against me, and I didn’t want him to stop. I’d disappeared, so of course he’d come to find me. We were in trouble, we had to protect each other—everything else was secondary.
Ben had found a way out of the tunnels—or his wolf had, animal instincts cutting through the magic. Had the others been able to follow? I didn’t sense any sign of Cormac, Anastasia, or Grace. But Ben was here.
“You okay now?” Sun said.
“Yeah, I am,” I said.
“You want some advice?”
“I’m not really in the mood for advice,” I said.
“You ought to get out of here, go home, and stop messing with things you don’t understand,” he said.
Ben licked my face, as if agreeing with the sentiment.
“I’ll consider it,” I said.
“Well, good luck then.” Sun waved as he walked away.
Ben curled his lip, his hackles rising again, and his muscles going rigid.
“Shh,” I murmured at him. He started to lunge after Sun, and I held him, bracing my weight against him to keep him from attacking. Ben made an uncertain noise—part growl, part whine—in his throat.
I only glanced away a moment while trying to settle Ben. When I turned back to the street, to take one more look at Sun, he was already gone, ducked around some corner or into some shadow. I couldn’t even smell him on the air anymore, except for his scent lingering on my borrowed T-shirt.
As soon as we found Grace I was going to have to ask her about that guy. Now, about finding Grace …
Ben was still acting like we were surrounded by enemies—watchful, nervous, braced. Part of me wanted to join him—turn Wolf so the two of us could run, just get out of here and find safety wherever we could. Golden Gate Park had to be around here somewhere, didn’t it? At any rate, I was done with Anastasia and done with the Dragon’s Pearl, Roman, and whatever weird magic was operating around them. It wasn’t worth killing ourselves over.
I scratched his ear and kissed his furry check. “We have to find Cormac and get out of here. Where is he? Where’d you leave him?”
He pulled away from me and trotted back the way he’d come. At the end of the block, he stopped and waited. Sighing, I hauled myself to my feet. I had to be healing because it was easier than the first time I’d tried it, after climbing out of the pit. But I’d never been so sore, all the way to the bone. However much I wanted to run, I could only manage to shuffle, wincing with every step.
When Ben saw me limping, he loped back and nudged me, whining, worried. His nose tracked all over me, searching for what was wrong, poking at the hem of the shirt until he found skin. His nose was cold and wet. I rested on him, lacing my hand into the fur of his neck. He came up to my hip and made a perfect crutch.
“I’m okay,” I said with another sigh. Together, slowly, we made our way to the end of the block and around the corner.
The alley ended ahead, and I recognized Grant Avenue. Ben put his nose down and sniffed, looking for a trail. I tried to imagine what had happened. Even through all the fighting we’d done, he hadn’t shifted. He’d kept it together. This time he’d either made a conscious decision to shift, or something had finally pushed him over the edge, and he’d lost control. I wanted to get him someplace safe and quiet, convince him to sleep instead of protecting me, and ask him what had happened.
But first, we had to find Cormac.
All the trails I sensed were old. My nose was pretty good, but Ben’s wolf’s nose would be better at this, and he was crossing back and forth, aimless, trackless. Ben had been back this way recently, but Cormac and Anastasia hadn’t, not since we first came here right after dusk. No sign of Grace, either. He trotted on to the end of the alley, made another pass, back and forth a couple of times—still no trail to follow.
I tried calling Cormac on my cell phone and wasn’t surprised when I got voice mail. I left a message. “Hey, we’re trying to find you. Ben’s here, we’re both okay. Call me as soon as you can.” Not that leaving a message would do any good, but it couldn’t hurt.
The street was empty; no one was around, not a car, not a traffic light, nothing. Seemed odd for a big city, even in the middle of the night.
When I tipped my nose to the air again, a cold thread of scent touched me. A familiar chill, it stabbed through the city’s background mist of cool air coming in off the water. A vampire—cold, undead. Not Anastasia. My imaginary hackles rose, my shoulders stiffening.
I looked behind me, down the alley we’d just left. A figure stood there, part of the shadows, visible only because he was backlit by some distant light diffused through the mist. He was male, with close-cropped hair and an angular shape to his features. He stood with his arm crooked, as if he rested his hand on the hilt of a sword hanging on his belt. But the stance was an illusion. He wore an overcoat. From a block away, he looked like a statue.
I knew him, I recognized him, that smell, that posture, the way I could feel him staring at me even when I couldn’t see his eyes. I stepped toward him, until my vision resolved his features and I was sure.
The vampire turned and walked away.
Ben whined. Back at the curb, he was looking back and forth, pacing, agitated. I went to him. “Ben?”
Roman—the figure I thought had been Roman—was out of sight now, but I still smelled the chill of vampire on the air. Ben loped to my side, brushing his flank along my thigh. I gripped his fur. He looked up at me with amber eyes, full of energy and determination. Run? he seemed to say.
Two vampires—different vampires—approached us along Grant from either direction. We’d be cornered in moments.
“I can’t,” I said, despairing. I squeezed my right hip, feeling the still-deep bruising. I wasn’t about to try to hobble away and get caught from behind. I’d rather face them.
Ben flattened his ears and tensed for battle.
The two newcomers strolled on the sidewalk as if they were average ordinary pedestrians. One of them even wore jeans. I tried to remember—had I ever seen a vampire wear jeans? He wore an embroidered Havana shirt with the jeans, and looked like he should have been drinking something out of a pineapple. The other wore a black turtleneck and gray slacks. They looked like a couple of young twenty-something hipsters. But they were still vampires, and they were coming after us. Ben and I stood side by side, our backs to the brick of the building behind us, and stared our challenges.
“We had word that some rogue wolves were running loose in town,” the Havana shirt guy said. “You must be it.”
My words caught behind a growl; I couldn’t talk. I wanted to shift and run away with my mate. Ready to rip and tear, claws burned inside my hands, which I clenched.
“What are we going to do with them, Joe?” Havana shirt guy said to turtleneck guy.
“Boss says haul ’em in.” His voice was low, calm, businesslike. He had no doubt about his ability to complete the task before him.
“Are you working for Roman?” I said, despair tightening my voice. I sounded close to tears. “Did he send you?”
“Roman?” the first vampire said. We blinked at each other. I ducked my gaze quickly, to avoid looking in his vampiric eyes. And because I was confused. He suddenly seemed bored, like this was a chore he could have done without. Which didn’t seem like Roman or one of his minions.
“So. You going to come quiet or make it hard on yourselves?” he said.
Ben’s face wrinkled, lips pulled back, showing his teeth in an epic snarl. All his fur stood on end, and he was braced to leap.
“Ben, no,” I murmured, clinging to his fur.
He jumped out of my grip and sprang at the vampire in the turtleneck, claws out and open jaw aiming for his throat.
The vampire was ready. He stepped aside, and Ben overshot his target and went sprawling on the street beyond. His claws scrabbled on the pavement as he worked to recover, change direction, and try again, but the vampire was too fast, too strong. In a stride he was on top of the wolf, digging a knee into his ribs, holding his front legs away with one hand and clamping down on his neck with the other, pinning him to the street. The wolf’s head was tilted up and away, leaving his jaws and teeth useless. No matter how he kicked and thrashed, he couldn’t break free of the vampire’s grip.
I attacked, because what else could I do?
Scrambling forward despite my injury, I made to tackle Ben’s captor. The other vampire was there to grab me from behind. I hadn’t even seen him move. He wrenched my arms back and dropped me to my knees. Despite the pain stabbing in my shoulder, I kept lunging forward, futilely trying to break free and reach Ben.
“We don’t want to hurt you, really,” the vampire holding me said. “Please just come with us.”
The please did it. I stopped struggling and nodded, because my voice still wasn’t working right. All Wolf wanted to do was growl.
“I let you go, you stay calm?” he said. “You’ll tell your mate to stand down?”
I nodded again.
“Can you even talk anymore?”
I swallowed, concentrated very hard on human words, and said, “I’m having a really bad night.”
He let me go. I slumped forward and rolled my shoulders, working the kinks out. “Ben, please. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
The wolf settled. The other vampire cautiously lifted his hands and backed away. As soon as the pressure was gone, Ben lurched to his feet. He stared at the vampire a moment and seemed to debate about risking another attack. Then he lowered his head and trotted to me, pressing close, twining himself in my arms. I hugged him hard, and he licked my face.
The first vampire was talking on a cell phone. A moment later, a shiny black Cadillac pulled around the corner and stopped at the curb. I couldn’t see the driver through the tinted windows, but I assumed it was another vampire. And Rick said the Family here was laid back.
The first vampire, the one in the Havana shirt who still hadn’t given his name, opened the back door and gestured us inside. The other, Joe, opened the front passenger-side door and climbed in.
I didn’t want to go. Ben stood between me and the car like a wall—he didn’t want to go, either.
“You’re from the San Francisco Family,” I said, stalling, trying to get my bearings.
He looked at me and sighed—specifically to demonstrate his frustration, it seemed. “Yes. My name is Henry. Now will you please get in so we can get off the street?”
I looked at Ben, cupping my hands around his face, smoothing back his fur. “What do you think?”
He licked my chin. Leaving it up to me. Leaning against him, I pulled myself to my feet and hobbled to the car.
“You’re hurt,” Henry said.
“I said I’ve had a bad night.”
“Broken bone?”
I glared at him. “I’m fine.”
He shrugged. When Ben and I were inside, he closed the door after us. He got in the front with Joe, and the car drove smoothly away.