Page 37 of Bound

My phone buzzed.

“It’s time. Let’s go.”

Short, scrubby cedar and tall, sickly-looking live oaks so peppered with ball moss it was a wonder they were still standing bordered both sides of the dirt road, their sharp, skeletal branches snapped off and crushed in the massive tire tracks leading out of the quarry. I tested the air, scenting only limestone dust and exhaust from the nearby highway.

“I don’t like this,” Topher said once we reached the gate. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

A gauzy veil of clouds swirled over the eastern horizon, blotting out the stars. The moon burned fiercely overhead, its pull beneath my skin a constant pressure I felt with every heartbeat as I fought to keep my curse from searing my bones to ash. I keyed in the access code at the gate, double checking the numbers London’s contact had managed to obtain. The electronic lock clicked open.

“He said we should have thirty minutes until the cameras come back online.” I set the timer on my phone. “It’s your call. Say the word and we go back.”

We’d cleared four sites across Austin over the past three nights. This one was north of the city in an area scattered with newer residential developments and industrial properties.

Topher stared up at the moon, eyes a thousand miles away as the pale white dust of the road swirled at our boots. “We’re being watched.”

“Vampires?”

He nodded.

“Can you get a read on any of them?”

“They’re staying too far back. I just feel that vague halo-like glow. The question is whether we were followed here or someone tipped them off.”

“Guess we’d better find out.”

We kept close to the trees, making our way deeper into the complex along the back edge of the quarry. The wind howled through the excavation area where white Texas limestone had been carved from the earth, stirring up pale dust devils that twisted like spirits in the black night. Down below, crushers and wheel loaders sat eerily still, thousands of pounds of rock waiting on steel jaws and plates to be loaded onto heavy trucks at first light.

“Any of this look familiar?” I asked, skirting a pile of crushed rock. He’d grown strangely silent as we passed an old shipping container.

“I don’t think so, but… it’s possible it was once and now I just can’t remember.”

Further into the wooded area, broken-down machinery loomed in the shadows like great hulking beasts. A rusted-out car slumped on ruined tires. Massive metal drums leached a foul, oily stench into the night air. Closing his eyes in concentration, Topher shifted to a large brindle wolf and loped off into the brush.

A clearing emerged in the trees. Scarred live oaks stretched moss-covered branches towards a cloudy sky. An unpaved road scored with heavy tire tracks curved off east towards the back of the quarry. Crushed plastic water bottles lay strewn among the rocks and industrial debris along with a soda can, faded Doritos bags and several zip ties. Topher circled the clearing, wolf ears flattened back.

I crouched down. “I’m getting four or five shifters. A few humans, too. No one familiar.”

He whuffed in agreement.

None of that told us much. The quarry was a pack-owned business, one that served as a safety net for werewolves struggling to integrate into human society. Many Bittens were unable to hold down traditional jobs at first, particularly when they couldn’t explain why they might have to miss work every month at the full moon. As the newest hire, Topher worked twelve-hour overnight shifts, with his crew typically scheduled two or three nights in a row with as many days off in between. It was the same schedule he’d worked for years down in Austin before he’d been turned. Only now he had to call out whenever his shifts overlapped with the full moon and he couldn’t risk going out when he wasn’t safe.

The brindle wolf sniffed at faint pawprints in the white limestone dust.

“Anything?” I came up alongside him, scanning the trees. My hackles had been up since we’d keyed in the entry code, my wolf screaming to get the hell out of there. But we needed information. Space was notoriously tight in most coven houses. Not only did vampires have to worry about external security, but every one of their windows had to be fully shielded against the sun during the day. A year ago, when the North Austin pack had been caught trafficking blood slaves, they’d agreed to hold feral and newly turned werewolves on their property in exchange for cash and drugs. Chances were if they or one of the other local packs had entered into a similar agreement under the table, they would be reusing one of the old locations where Topher and the other blood slaves had been held before.

Topher shifted back to human, briefly checked his weapons to make sure everything had reformed correctly post-shift, then shook his head. “I’m not getting anything specific. Just that vague sense they’re out there now, outside my tracking range.”

“Why don’t they come closer?” It was the question River had put to us all back in my apartment. And now I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know the answer.

The wind gusted, sending leaves rasping across the dry ground. A pair of round yellow eyes watched me from a nearby tree.

“I don’t know. And… there’s something else that’s been bothering me. When I went to talk to Kieran’s dealer, I asked if he’d seen anyone hanging around in the weeks before he disappeared.”

“And?”

“He remembered seeing a dark SUV casing the place.”

Something stirred off in the trees behind us. I snapped my head around, but there was nothing there.