Loch radioed the dispatch center as they peeled out of the parking lot, shouting instructions.
Tate clutched at the arm of the seat, then realized that his nails had turned to claws and he was shredding the upholstery. What he wanted to do was sink those nails, and his fangs, into the kidnapper’s flesh. His vision swam with fury as he imagined the taste of Hamilton’s blood, laying open his neck to the bone, Hamilton lying beneath him in a pile of unrecognizable flesh…
He dimly realized that he’d shifted, that he was a massive gray wolf shaking with murderous fury in the seat of Loch’s car, and Loch was saying something on the phone.
He forced himself to shift back, his fangs receding into his gums, his skin going smooth, claws disappearing into his fingers. Shreds of upholstery and yellow chunks of foam were scattered on his lap and on the floor.
Loch was slowing to a stop in the parking lot by the trail that led to the Crimson Caves. Other deputy’s cars were pulling in at the same time.
Loch’s face was set in grim lines as he tossed the cell phone onto the dashboard and parked.
“What?” Tate yelled at Loch.
Loch didn’t answer, just scrambled out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and Tate followed suit, almost naked, the shreds of his clothing hanging off him.
“What is it? Tell me!” Tate demanded.
“The police in L.A. found blood splatter in Hamilton’s home. They also found fingerprints in that house which match the fingerprints we ran in the jewelry store – they’re the fingerprints of a coyote shifter from Missouri, Bernard Lambert, who is wanted in connection with the disappearance of a half-dozen young men and women.”
Without another word, Tateshifted into wolf form, not bothering to strip his clothing off first.
He could feel the rage rippling through his body. Now was the time to unleash his beast; he’d tear the flesh clean off Hamilton’s bones.Loch shifted, too, and the men dashed off into the woods, ears tucked back against their heads, fur bristling with fury, followed by a pack of deputies. Their howls of rage tore through the air.
Chapter Thirteen
Megan sucked in gulping breaths of humid summer air. They paused in front of the gaping entrance to the Crimson Caves. The imposter, who said his name was Bernard, had parked his car, hauled them out, and marched them through the woods. He had a backpack slung on his back and carried the tranquilizer dart gun in his hand, not that he needed it. He’d been right; with Schuyler there, Megan wouldn’t try to fight.
Megan’s wrists itched and stung as if she wore bracelets of poison ivy. She’d struggled to free her wrists from the copper wire, with no luck. The sun beat down on them, and sweat poured down Megan’s face, plastering her hair to her head. They were all breathing hard. He’d made them march double-time, glancing over his shoulder frequently.
Bernard still looked as handsome as a movie star, but now Megan could see the craziness blazing in his eyes. How had she missed it before? Had it always been there? She shuddered to think of the few times they’d kissed, his hand cupping her face, tongue caressing hers. Now in memory, she thought of a viper wriggling in her mouth.
“All right, kids,” Bernard said with a mad, fake cheer in his voice. “Into the tunnels we go.”
“They’ll find us, you jackass. They’ll follow our scent,” Megan snapped.
“Of course they will, sooner or later. This is the end for me. I’ve been running so long, and now I’m at the end of the road.” His voice was high and sing-song. “You’ll be with me at the end. It’s the end for us. I don’t want to be alone.”
He looked at the cave mouth, dripping with green vines as sinuous as writhing snakes. It yawned open like a hungry mouth which would swallow them whole.
His voice turned flint-hard and angry. “Let’s go.”
Megan steeled herself. This was it, then. She’d have to make a stand. If they went in there, they’d never come out.
“No,” she said firmly. She’d have to attack him in human form, hands tied behind her back, which was suicide, of course. She’d do her best to distract him while Schuyler ran for it. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was all she had. She’d give it everything she had. She’d go down fighting.
She felt Schuyler behind her back, felt her sister fall against her hands, her fur rubbing against her, her cold wet snout nuzzling her.
Wait, her fur? Her wet nose? How the hell had she shifted?
Schuyler nipped at the copper wire binding Megan’s hands, yelping in pain as her mouth came in contact with it. Megan could feel the wire tearing. Bernard’s eyes went wide with shock and rage.
“What are you doing? Stop that.” Bernard raised the tranquilizer gun.