“All right, fuckos,” Jem said.“I warned you.”
He started toward them.Zeb said something to Reed, voice low, and dropped the second jerry can.It fell on its side, and more liquid chugged out of the opening, glistening under the lights.Reed hesitated, and Zeb snapped, “Go.”
Reed limped right.
Zeb went left.
A split second.
Which one?
The injured one.Obviously.
Jem zagged toward Reed.As soon as he started to run, he was aware of Zeb breaking into a sprint, but he kept his gaze on his target.Reed flinched as Jem charged toward him.He had a knife too, but he held it like he didn’t know how to use it—probably never had used it, not unless you counted stabbing someone in the back, cutting and slashing at someone who was already helpless.Someone they’d tied up.Someone who wasn’t a threat.He took a wild swing, but Jem was still ten feet away, and the last row of prom tables was between them.
The crash of a chair behind Jem told him Zeb was getting closer, but he didn’t look back.As Jem came around the final table, Reed took another of those swings.Too early, again.He was off balance, and even with the mask in his place, he looked wide-eyed and terrified.
Good.
Jem grabbed the centerpiece from the table.It was awkward with the telescoping antenna still in that hand, but the centerpiece hardly weighed anything.He hurled it at Reed.It wasn’t a great throw; the plastic castle spun end over end once, and then it smacked into Reed.The wolfman let out a sharp cry and took another wobbling step back.And then Jem reached him.
He swung the hex nut twice to build up speed and then whipped it at Reed’s head.It connected with a crack, and the wolfman screamed.Jem closed the last few feet and grabbed the wolfman’s mask.He yanked his head down and brought his knee up.He felt something soft fold under the impact.The mask, definitely.
Reed screamed again, a gurgling sound now.
Maybe not just the mask.Maybe his nose, too.
Jem shoved him backward, and Reed went down.Spinning, Jem snapped out the telescoping antenna.Zeb was right there, the knife coming in, meant for Jem’s kidney.He twisted, and the knife went past him.Air.Nothing but air.
He couldn’t fuck it up.Not even if he tried.
And then Zeb’s elbow slammed into his head.
34
The dispatcher was saying, “—get somewhere safe and wait for officers to arrive—” over and over again.
Tean shoved his phone into his pocket, keeping the call active, and strained to hear something from the house.Anything but the faint music that filtered out to him.Any sign of Jem.
Nothing.
Stay?Go?
He jogged around the back of the house.
The music got louder, and when he reached the yard, he saw why: the back door was open, and glass covered the stoop and the floor inside the house.A heavy thump came from inside.Then a crash.
In the doorway, Tean froze.Jem and one of the wolfmen stood on the other side of the room.Something was wrong with Jem; he was stumbling and shaking his head.The wolfman was stalking him, steps slow and measured.A knife gleamed in his hand.
“Hey!”Tean shouted.
The wolfman flicked a look at him.Then his attention turned back to Jem.
Jem stirred like he wanted to look over.His voice was weak when he said, “Get out of here.”
“Hey!”Tean tried again.
But this time, the wolfman didn’t turn.Like Tean was no threat.Less than a threat.Nothing.
