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"Who the hell are you?" I said, quiet and wary.
"She's with me." The guy just appeared, behind me, leaning on the other side of the door. He had the same pale skin, spiky black hair, and sunglasses. Leather jacket, T-shirt, jeans. That same wicked, predatorial smile.
Fuck.
I walked forward, like I could pretend they weren't there. A second later, they stood beside me again, and each one had a grip on my arms.
I sighed. "What do you want?"
They both gri
"We want to talk," the guy said.
"I'm listening."
"Not here," he said.
Of course not. Side by side, holding me tight, they steered me to a black SUV parked around the corner. Strangely, rather than panic I felt an odd sort of fatalism settle over me, like I finally had too much to deal with. I didn't have any anxiety left to muster. Maybe they weren't pla
See, whatever it was, I just couldn't think of how bad it could possibly get. My imagination failed me.
I made a token effort to escape. I braced my arms and dropped my weight back—and was shocked when I actually broke out of their grips. Blinking, I looked at them looking back at me. Then the Wolf took over and ran. I turned and launched myself in the same step, dashing down the sidewalk.
Seemingly without moving, without effort, they grabbed hold of me again. I didn't even sense them moving. In one breath I was ru
"Cute," the woman said. "Real cute. Though I can't blame you for trying."
"Thanks," I muttered.
She went around to the passenger side, the guy shoved me in through the driver's side, and they pi
"Don't worry," she said. "This'll be fun."
Yeah, right. They both looked to be in their twenties. They seemed young, as vampires went. They were having too much fun with it.
They didn't blindfold me. They didn't care if I knew where we were going, which boded both well and ill. Maybe they really did just want to talk. But if they were pla
I put on an air of bravado. "You guys are from the Eighties, aren't you?"
She giggled and put her arm across my shoulders, pressing far too close to me for comfort. Goose bumps broke out over my arms. She said, "That's exactly what he said you'd say."
"Who? Who said I'd say that?"
Nothing. The guy gri
I slumped back against the seat and eyed him in the rearview mirror. Except he wasn't there. Leaning forward suddenly, I checked the side mirror—I should have seen him there, but I only saw the back of the seat, bathed in shadow. But the mirror thing was bunk. I'd seen it.
"What are you doing?" the woman asked, watching me crane my neck, trying to look at a different angle.
Sounding more panicked than I wanted, I said, "Do you guys cast reflections in mirrors or not?"
She grabbed the rearview mirror and tilted it toward herself—and I caught a glimpse of her, right there in the mirror, in all her poofy-haired glory.
Then he took hold of it and turned it toward him. And I didn't see anything. Maybe an extra shadow. He did it quickly, then moved the mirror back to its original position, like he'd only been adjusting it.
"You mean it turns on and off?" My voice was a tad shrill.
"It's all tricks of the light," he said. The woman only smiled.
Oh, great. What couldn't vampires do? I sat back and stayed very still and quiet for the rest of the trip.
After a half hour of driving, we ended up south of the freeway, near Broadway, behind a one-story, windowless, warehouse-type building. The area was all steel and concrete, desolate at this time of night. I could scream, and it wouldn't do any good.
She dragged me out of her side of the car. Her grip was firm—no breaking out of it this time, especially when he joined her.
Inside the warehouse, the space was lit by emergency lighting, dim circles around the perimeter, leaving much of the place in shadows. On top of that, crates and boxes formed walls and canyons, dozens of pallets wrapped in plastic and waiting shipment. This was a working warehouse, besides whatever hideout these guys were using it for.
I smelled people. Beings, rather. Both vampires and lycanthropes were here, and the scent crowded together so I couldn't tell how many there were. The shadows hid them well, but I sensed them there, watching. I kept close to the door. Maybe I could run, if they gave me a chance.
A low growl echoed, and something animal and musky approached. It was canine, but not wolf, and it had a distinctive…something else. A touch of human. I backed toward the door, my shoulders bunched up.
The thing moved into the light, and I'd never seen anything like it. As large as a Great Dane—bigger, even—it stepped lightly on slender legs. Its body was sleek, its coloring mottled—red, white, yellow, and black splotches decorating it, like it had had a run-in with a paint set. It had a boxy, doglike face and huge, desert-dwelling ears that focused on me like satellite dishes.
I couldn't help but stare at it, which it took as a challenge, lowering its head, straightening its tail like a rudder, and growling.
"Hush, Dack. Be still." A voice spoke from the darkness, and the creature looked toward it, flattening its ears and dropping its tail.
The leader was here, and I knew his voice. Rick gave the animal a quick scratch behind the ears as he approached us, emerging from shadows.
"Rick, you bastard! What the hell's this about?"
The animal started growling again, and I backed up. Again, Rick shushed it, murmuring gently. His power was subtle, but indisputable.
When he entered into view, so did his army. They came into the light, just enough so I could see them—so they could see me, size me up. Seven lycanthropes and two more vampires, besides the ones who'd ambushed me. One of the vampires was a woman. So was one of the lycanthropes—and she wasn't a wolf. I couldn't tell what variety she was. A diverse and terrifying group, they all looked tough, and they all frowned. Some of them carried weapons—guns, knives. I wouldn't want to meet any of them in a dark alley.
I swallowed back my fear. "So. Am I here to be threatened or recruited?"
Rick said, "I wanted to show you how vulnerable you are. You need me as much as I need you."
"And how exactly is facing off with Carl and Meg supposed to make me less vulnerable?"
He had the decency not to answer that.
"Rick, I want to go home, and I want you to take me. Not Sid and Nancy over here."
"Charlie and Violet," he said. "Their names are Charlie and Violet." The pair of vampires leaned against a nearby wall. I swore the woman, Violet, was smacking a piece of chewing gum. Charlie smiled enough to show fang and gave a wiggle of his fingers.
I nodded toward the strange, leggy creature. "And what is that thing?"
"African wild dog, lycanthropic variety. Dack and I are old friends."
The animal—person, I forced myself to acknowledge, since I'd sensed it from the first—didn't appear any more friendly after the introduction. I kept my distance. Rick whispered to him, and the dog turned and trotted away, close to the wall of the building. Walking the perimeter, keeping guard.
Motley didn't begin to describe this group.
Then he introduced me to all of them, the nine others, as if I would remember their names. As if knowing their names would give me some stake in the outcome of this confrontation. One of them, the woman lycanthrope of unknown variety, flashed a smile and said, "I love your show."