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I’d only made it a few steps before I looked back over my shoulder.
Mark stood in front of the witches. His hands were in fists at his sides. He wasn’t speaking, and neither was Dale, but I couldn’t help but feel a slick twist of anger on his behalf. Maybe Dale hadn’t meant much to him, not in the long run, but he’d meant something. Dale used him. I swore to myself it was going to be one of the last things he ever did. “Mark,” I said sharply.
Mark nodded at Dale before he turned and walked toward me.
His eyes were blazing orange.
I wanted to say something, anything to make it all right again, to make it how it’d been the night before, but words failed me.
So instead, I did the only thing I could think of when he was
about to pass me by: I reached out and took his hand.
The tightness around his eyes eased. He looked down at our joined hands, then back up at me.
He arched an eyebrow.
“Shut up,” I muttered. “If you make a big deal about this, I’m going to give you to Dale myself.”
He squeezed my hand.
And then I led us home.
come and get me/tug of war
“MOTHERFUCKERS,” CHRIS growled. “Those goddamn bitches. Who the hell do they think they are?”
“Bastards,” Tanner said, sounding furious. “All of them. Can I shoot them? Please? Please say I can shoot them.”
“In the nuts,” Rico spat. “I’m going to shoot them in the nuts, and while they’re screaming in pain, I’m going to shove my fist down their throats until I reach their stomachs. And then I’m going to pull their stomachs out of their mouths and spill the contents of their stomachs on their faces, and I’m going to like it.”
We all turned slowly to stare at him.
“What?” he asked. “They’re in our garage.”
We were hunkered down across the street, hiding behind what remained of the diner. The snow was still falling, the lull having passed. It was thick again, this storm. Robbie had found an old radio in the blue house. Ox said it’d belonged to his mother, and they’d danced in his kitchen to the music it played. We’d managed to find a station out of Eugene, which said the storm was expected to last a few more days.
The tow truck was still lying on its side in the diner, propped up precariously by the boom. A thin layer of ice covered the driver’s side and the hoist from the snow blown in by the wind. It didn’t look as if anyone else had been inside the diner, and I thanked god for small favors. Either the storm or the warnings blared by the hunters had kept people indoors. I didn’t know how long it would last.
The King clan had taken over the garage.
We could see them inside, moving about. The lights were on, and one of the garage doors was open. They’d parked their trucks around the front like a barricade, bumper to bumper. A few hunters looked to be on patrol, moving around the outside of the garage. One stood on top of the cab of one of the trucks, keeping watch.
Jones was gone, as was his cruiser. I didn’t know what they’d done with his body.
I wanted to launch a full frontal assault. To take them out. To get rid of as many of them as I could. But Ox had said this was reconnaissance only. And, if need be, a distraction.
Because the wolves were on the move.
“They better not be touching my tools,” Chris muttered. “That shit is expensive.”
Jessie snorted. “Way to have your priorities straight.”
“Hey! Do you know how long it took me to—”
“Shut up,” I growled, lowering my binoculars. “All of you.”
“Oh, sure,” Tanner said, as bitchy as I’d ever heard him. “Look at boss man over here. Sounding all tough and shit. I saw the way Mark kissed your forehead before we left and the gross look on your face when you watched him walk away.”
