“It pains me to say this,” he grumbled, “but you make a fair point.”
“Hey. We’ll make it,” I assured him. “Elena will beat our assess if we don’t. She’s got a whole feast planned, and I’m already working on my toast.”
We’d just finished loading up the vans with everything on our list—bottled water, flashlights and batteries, matches, candles, every kind of food imaginable, blankets, sheets, pillows, air mattresses, extra clothing, coats, boots, winter gear, toiletries, paper products, herbs and crystals for some more warding magic, and of course, the all-important cases of booze everyone had begged for—when I’d gotten Elena’s call. All five of us whooped and cheered in the parking lot at the welcome news that our wolf pup was awake and finally out of the woods.
Haley had insisted on running back into the plaza for a get-well gift, despite the fact that Emilio had alreadygottenwell. Still, she’d gone ahead anyway, coming back out fifteen minutes later looking like a walking hospital gift shop. The woman had picked out at least four dozen roses in just about every color of the rainbow, all arranged in a giant vase she could barely get her arms around, three big-ass “Get Well” helium balloons trailing behind her. Looped over her elbows were two more shopping bags—one full of stuffed animals, the other crammed with boxes of chocolate-covered, well, everything.
“Seriously, Hay? Seriously?”
“What?” she’d asked, taking her time arranging all that shit in the back seat. “He was practically in a coma. He needs to be surrounded by bright, cheery things. Plus, he loves chocolate. Everyone knows that.”
I peered into the other bag. “And the stuffed… cats?”
“Oh, those are for the witches. Kind of an inside joke.”
“You’ve just thought of everything, haven’t you?” I teased, but even I was smiling at that point. Girl really knew how to bring the silver lining.
The balloons bobbed beside her now, the massive rose bouquet strategically balanced on her lap. The whole van smelled like old lady perfume, but I wasn’t about to tellherthat.
Besides, she was right—it was a good idea. Emilio would love everything about it, the big fucking softy.
My gut twisted as my mind tried to serve up a replay on the night he’d been attacked, but I shut that shit down fast. Our wolf was okay. He’d fucking made it through the jaws of death, the crazy bastard. All because Gray had never lost faith that he would.
“I don’t like this,” Beaumont said suddenly, scanning the road ahead. “Something feels off.”
“You think?” I reached for the console, trying to crank up the window defogger. “We’re driving through a blizzard in a tin can with half-bald tires, on a sheet of solid ice, through the pitch-black woods, and I’m not even sure we’re going the right way anymore.”
“Thanks, as always,” Beaumont said, “for the optimism. However, that’s not what I’m talking about. Something doesn’t feel right. Out there.”
I tried to follow the line of his gaze out the side passenger window, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off the road for more than two seconds at a time.
“Just a storm, Beaumont. You never seen snow before in your fancy-ass London house?”
“No, I haven’t. But that’s not—”
“You see anything weird out there, Hay?” I asked her.
“Yep. I spy something… white.” She tapped her window, then said, “Well, look at it this way, guys. If we crash into a ditch and have to sleep out in the woods overnight, at least we’re well-supplied.”
“Awesome!” I flashed her a thumbs up in the rearview. Her sunny disposition was practically a foreign language to me—I swore the girl had a physical aversion to bitching and moaning. “You can be in charge of setting up camp, okay, Bright Side?”
“You got it! Your tent will be the one next to the bear den. I’ll be sure to stock it with plenty of chocolate first.” She gave the back of my head a playful smack.
I laughed. Since Gray couldn’t touch me without starting a fire, I was pretty sure she’d given Haley carte blanche to knock me around on her behalf whenever the opportunity presented itself.
“No fucking with the driver,” I teased. “Unless you wanna end up in a ditch.”
“Pass,” she said.
Silence drifted in, and for a while, the only sounds in the van were the squeak of the wipers on the windshield, the slow grind of the tires on the snowpack, and the occasional clank of bottles in the back.
“We seem to have lost Lansky,” Beaumont finally said.
I narrowed my eyes and peered out the windshield again, as if I could see anything through the wall of white in front of us. Son of a bitch, he was right.
“Yeah, I don’t even see the taillights anymore,” I said. “How’d they get so far ahead of us?”
“Maybe they didn’t,” he said. “I doubt they’d speed up in these conditions. Perhaps they found a place to pull off.”
