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"Yeah. " Grace sighed. "So if he's hightailed it to the mountains or, worse, to a big city - "
"There are going to be a lot more werewolves soon. "
"I wish I knew what to do about that, too. Would be nice if there were some sort of army you could call to take care of this. "
"Wouldn't it, though?"
"I'm going to have to go after him. "
"I know. "
Silence fell, broken only by the hum of the tires against the pavement.
"Parade tomorrow at ten. " Grace went back to listing things I already knew. "Picnic at noon, followed by fireworks just after sundown. Then the eclipse and we're home free. "
As long as the werewolf, or wolves, followed Malachi's wagons out of town.
"Make sure everyone's got silver bullets," I blurted.
Grace turned in to her driveway. "It's one little werewolf. Maybe two. What could happen?"
I hated it when people said things like that.
I'd left my dad's car at Grace's, so I drove directly to work, where I discovered an empty office. Since Balthazar had. . . disappeared, and his editorial diatribes, too, the number of people requesting appointments had dwindled.
I glanced at my watch. Joyce should be here, but she wasn't.
A quick perusal of her desk revealed she had been here, not too long ago. Where was she now?
The ladies' room was empty, as was the break room. I continued searching, asking anyone who milled about town hall if they'd seen her, tracking Joyce like Grace tracked wolves, through a building instead of the forest. I found Joyce forty-five minutes later in the bowels of the basement. I hadn't been there since I was a kid, and with good reason.
Once I'd come to work with my father and begun exploring. I'd crept down the dark, dank cement staircase then as I did now, feeling chills wind up my spine as cobwebs drifted across my face and clung to my hair.
When I was ten, I hadn't lasted more than a few minutes on the ground level before I'd thundered back up and burst through the door, slamming it behind me. I'd heard strange things in that basement. I heard them again now.
Scratchings and scramblings - mice, no doubt. I didn't like them, but they weren't enough to make me run before I found out what in hell Joyce could be doing down here. I figured that all the times she'd gone missing, this was where she'd been. Considering what was going on in Lake Bluff, I needed to know what she was up to.
The lighting was dim - several bulbs were burnt out. My shadow trailed ahead of me across the cement floor, making me jump every time that I saw it.
The corridors twisted and turned. The basement was mainly used for storage and maintenance. Cardboard boxes, rusted filing cabinets, brooms, mops, and fuse boxes abounded.
In the distance I heard a low growl, and I paused. Maybe I shouldn't be down here after all.
Somewhere ahead lay an old storm cellar door, leading to the outside. Town hall was the tornado shelter for most of downtown Lake Bluff. People could get in from the street if need be, or out if they became trapped once the tornado knocked the building down. That also meant that anyone, or anything, might be hiding here.
I reached for my cell phone, thinking I'd get Grace to come and hold my hand.
"No service," I muttered. Should have known.
The odd growling noise increased, sounding more mechanical than feral. Maybe the air-conditioning was about to blow up.
I continued on, one hand trailing along the damp, cool wall of the basement. I turned a corner and there she was, hunched over a desk like a crone.
"Joyce?" I murmured, and she shrieked, the sound bouncing off the close cement walls and making my hair stand on end.
She whirled, the stark bulb overhead flaring across her face, making it ghostly white, even as her eyes appeared completely black.
I skittered back, heart pounding from both the sight and the sound of her, if not the sharp, shiny knife in her fist.
