“Better not let Gabe know you’re still sweet on her,” Gregory told him.
“Yeah. He’ll kick your ass,” Finn said.
Willem spat at his twin. Finn dodged the wad.
Rafe hadn’t spoken a word. He just stared at her with a look of smug amusement on his face. Ulf stood beside him fidgeting.
“What’s happened here?” Vivian asked gruffly.
Ulf finally spoke. “They found a body behind the Dumpster.” His voice was squeaky. “Some guy.”
Vivian felt a cold lump in her gut.
“We didn’t get to see it,” Willem told her. “But there’s a lot of blood.”
“A goddamn river of it down to the drain,” Gregory added with relish. “I heard some cop muttering about wild animals.” He cackled with delight.
Across the street an ambulance took off quietly. One of the police cars followed. Lucien Dafoe came around the corner. That didn’t surprise Vivian; Lucien was Tooley’s best customer. He leaned against the doorjamb of the bar entrance and grinned at all the activity. He should have the sense to look shocked even if he didn’t care.
Vivian realized then that Rafe had asked her a question. “What?”
Rafe folded his arms and cocked his head. “I said, did you see anything, Viv?”
“Huh?”
“Down here. Last night. I saw you in your wolf-skin under the bridge. You were heading this way.”
The sun scorched her head, setting her skull on fire. Her tongue felt thick, and it was difficult to talk. “Was I?” She tried to sound nonchalant.
Rafe chuckled, but his eyes looked cold and eager. “Got something to tell us, babe? Something we should know about? Huh?”
“You’re full of shit, Rafe.” She had to get away before the trembling inside broke loose. She couldn’t let them see her panic. “There’s nothing more to see here. I’m sure Esmé will fill me in on the details after her next shift.” She turned to go.
“Don’t think you’re any better than us, Viv,” Rafe called after her. “We saw what you did to Astrid.”
She walked back the way she had come, in the knife-sharp, white summer heat, through a neighborhood as alien as the landscape of her dreams.
It wasn’t me. It couldn’t be me, she thought. But the blood she had scrubbed from under her nails proclaimed her a liar.
When Vivian woke on Sunday, the air in her room was cool and sweet, and the sunlight that stole between the curtains was pale and innocent. She could hear the radio playing softly downstairs.
It was all a dream, she thought, and took a long, deep breath. Aiden still loved her. There had been no blood on her face.
The moment she entered the kitchen Vivian knew she’d been lying to herself again. There were dark circles under Esmé’s eyes and her hair was haphazardly gathered back in a single comb. She was still in her nightgown. “Feeling better, baby?” Esmé asked vaguely, and stared into the distance as she sipped her coffee.
“What’s wrong?” Vivian asked, dreading the answer.
“They found a body in back of Tooley’s Saturday morning.”
No one had told Esmé that she’d been at the scene, Vivian realized. “So?” she said, her heart thumping.
Esmé set her mug down. “The cook who found the body described it to me,” she answered. “Unless something’s escaped from the zoo, the killer was one of us.”
Vivian tried to look shocked. “Who would do that?”
“That’s what we need to find out, because if this keeps on happening it’ll be West Virginia all over again.”
“But this is the city,” Vivian said. “They’ll think it’s a psycho.”
“Maybe the police and the newspapers will put it down to a psycho,” Esmé answered. “But there’s always someone who can put two and two together and come up with werewolf. And what if he fancies himself a hero?”
“Maybe it won’t happen again.”
I won’t let it happen, Vivian thought.
Esmé shook her head. “I’d like to think that, but it doesn’t work that way.”
Vivian fought down panic. “What do you mean?”
“Once someone goes over the edge and gets a taste, he can’t seem to stop. It happened in New Orleans. That’s why the pack moved to West Virginia years ago. And then it happened there, too. Your father said we could live in peace as long as we kept to ourselves. He was wrong. Now I wonder if we ever can have peace. The stories the humans tell say we’re cursed. Maybe they’re right.”
Vivian’s mouth was dry. She could hardly speak. “Even if the killer is seen, even if the killer is tracked and caught, they won’t know there are others, will they?”
“I don’t know, Vivian. I don’t know where this will lead. We’re not invulnerable. You should know that after what you’ve seen.”
Vivian hung on desperately to the way Esmé said “he” over and over; the word put a thankful distance between her and the body. She couldn’t stand the shame if her mother knew. What if she’d brought death to her people, all because she’d thought a human could love her?
The doorbell rang.
“Bloody Moon,” Esmé said, swiping at her hair. “That’s Gabriel.”
Vivian’s voice caught in her throat. “What’s he doing here?”
“Don’t worry,” Esmé snapped. “Not to court you, Miss Priss. He wants to know what I found out last night.”
Then why didn’t he ask you on the phone?
Vivian thought. How could she face Gabriel, who always seemed to see right through her?
“Go let him in while I tidy up,” Esmé ordered.
When Vivian opened the door she was relieved to see Rudy pulling into the driveway. Gabriel turned to greet him before she was obliged to speak. Rudy slapped Gabriel on the back and ushered him in.
She was going to disappear upstairs but Gabriel called her back. “You should be in on this, too.”
What did he mean by that? Did he know something?
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