I vibrated with nerves and suppressed panic as I met Archer and the team once more on the trail where four werewolves attacked us. Unbelievable. They just didn’t learn their lesson of when to avoid crossing a hostile beast’s territory. They might as well have rubbed themselves with salmon and slithered into a bear’s den. At least I had a new can of bear mace and backed it up with the less-than-legal pepper spray I kept at the cabin.
Clouds covered the sun and made the forest even darker under the trees, until the early afternoon felt like twilight. They’d only made it partially down the trail, so I caught up on foot easily.
Too easily.
All five of them raised their eyebrows. Ryan studied me from head to toe. “When did you get the cast off?”
Shit. “Uh… I cut it off myself. Yesterday, I think? It was bothering me.”
“Casts are uncomfortable,” Giselle said slowly. “But since you had a compound fracture about a week ago, how the fuck are you walking on it without some kind of boot or splint?”
“I don’t think it was as broken as everyone thought.” I brushed aside those concerns and focused on Archer. “What did you see on the cameras from yesterday? The figure in the trees or that one you said moved through the area. What did it look like?”
Wariness stole across his expression, but Archer eased closer to take my arm. “Well, we’re going to set up more cameras to trace the damn thing. Are you feeling okay? You look a little crazy and you’re shaking.”
“I just… just had an idea.” A full body twitch almost dislodged his grip, and his fingers tightened. I cleared my throat and concentrated on the task at hand. They knew something about vampires. They did. Surely they could help me figure out whether my brother had fallen into Dragomir’s clutches. “And I wanted… I need your expertise. How long do you… do you think the werewolves have been around here? The vampire. Fifty years? Five?”
Something changed in their body language. Instead of clumping up to stare at the crazy scientist, they spread out a little with Archer and me in the center of a half-circle. It happened so subtly I wouldn’t have noticed without the hyperactive vampire blood heightening my ability to track even the flies and bees buzzing around.
Archer took an exaggerated deep, slow breath, encouraging me to do the same, before he spoke. “Much closer to fifty than to five. At least thirty years, probably a lot longer. The records aren’t as thorough as we’d like, and a lot of disappearances and deaths were attributed to wild animals, accidents, or feuds that could have come from the supernaturals.”
“Supernatural, right.” My gaze scanned the ground over and over, tracking through the equations and words flashing in my mind. Too much. Way too much input, not enough output. What was I supposed to ask him? What could I even talk about? Did I just blurt out that I thought a vampire killed my brother and then came to me for assistance?
“Ada,” Archer murmured, his thumb stroking my upper arm. “Did you take something? Your pupils are kinda wild. Have you slept recently?”
“There’s no time for sleep.” I stared into the trees, searching for a hint of those werewolves. Dragomir said vampires created werewolves. Had Dragomir sent the four yesterday to clean up the team and prevent them from screwing around in his territory? “How are werewolves made? The four yesterday. Do they bite each other? Do they have to be born under a full moon? How does it work?”
Archer traded looks with Giselle, then nodded. “Let’s talk about that back at your house. I’ll bring the medic bag and take a look at your leg, then we can talk about werewolves while you relax.”
I could practically read his mind: a little tranquilizer, maybe a call to the hospital, maybe a blood test to see what kind of drugs I was on. And no telling what my blood would actually show with the anomalies from Dragomir.
I shook my head and retreated to the end of his grip. “No, that’s not a good idea.”
Hopper was still there, and I’d stupidly left blood bags and creepy racoon hats and silicone masks everywhere. It looked like a serial killer’s playpen.
He took a breath to convince me, then paused. Listened.
The rest of the team held their breath and scanned the surroundings. With the wild riot of ideas pinging in my brain and the thundering pulse pounding in my ears, it took me a second to recognize it.
The forest had gone silent and still. Eerie. Tension simmered beneath the surface as every living creature held its breath.
I clutched the St. Albert medallion through my shirt as I stared at the suddenly threatening expanse of trees. I turned, not wanting my back to anything, and searched for the impending disaster. The tension mounted and grew menacing, more like the werewolves than the sasquatch, and I leaned closer to Archer.
“We should…” Isidro started, gesturing at the trail behind me.
Something crashed through the branches above us and landed hard in the middle of the team. Everyone froze for a split second, processing the information, but I’d felt his approach through that bizarre mental link like an inevitable tsunami. The uncanny face stretched and distorted as it bared fangs, and the gross soft pink hands flashed out to grab one of the rifles they carried. My mouth dried and I croaked for air.
Dragomir.