A Fistful of Charms (22 page)

“They must have a dock somewhere,” Jenks continued, not paying him any mind but for a nervous glance. “They probably already have people waiting for us, though.”

“I'll kill myself before I let them take me back there,” Nick said, thinking Jenks was talking to him. “Thank you. Thank you for getting me out of that hell.”

Jenks's lips pressed together and his grip clenched the wheel as he shifted to a lower gear and took a tight turn. “I can smell an oil and gas mix to the south, almost exactly where we came in. It's probably the marina.”

Nick pulled his head up, the wind shifting his lank hair from his eyes. “You're talking to the dog?”

Sparing him a glance from under his new cap, Jenks turned away. “She's a wolf. Get it right, crap for brains. Tink's knickers, you have got to be the stupidest lunker I've ever lit on.”

Nick's eyes went wide and he clutched the side of the Jeep. “Jenks!” he stammered, going whiter. “What happened to you?”

Jenks's jaw clenched but he stayed silent.

Nick looked at me. “You're a person,” he said, looking gaunt. “Jenks, who is she?”

I trembled, unable to say a thing. Jenks gripped the wheel tighter, and the engine nearly stalled when he slowed to go around a turn and didn't downshift. “No one cares little green turds about you,” he said. “Who do you think she is?”

Nick took a gasping breath, leaning forward to slip to the floor of the Jeep. “Rachel?” he said, and I watched his pupils dilate just before he passed out and his head hit the seat.

Jenks took a quick look over his shoulder. “Great. Just freaking great. Now I'm going to have to carry him.”

I
had scrambled back to sit with Nick, worried at the stink of infection and that he hadn't regained consciousness yet. The wind from our passage as Jenks jostled us down the road to the supposed marina lifted the hair about my ears, giving me a fuzzy “view” of the sounds around me but an expanded picture of the smells. The chatter from the radio was loud and heavy, bringing Jenks up to speed on Pam's death and the breakup of the round. That we might have stolen a Jeep and were listening apparently hadn't crossed anyone's mind. The survivalists had divided their forces to maintain dominance of the island as well as search for us. It could only help.

Jenks adjusted his new Were cap, slowing when Brett's twang filtered out. I swiveled my ears forward, glad for the easier pace. “All teams keep a three-to-one ratio of fur to feet,” the man was saying. “The cell is empty. They're armed, two dead, so watch your tail. No sign of their boat, so they're probably headed for the dock. I want a five-to-one-ratio there.”

Jenks slowed to pull off into the short grass eking out a living by the packed dirt. I lifted my head in question, meeting his worried eyes with mine.
Why was he stopping?

“They know we're coming,” he said, awkwardly twisting to make a three-point turn and head back the way we'd come. “I can't fight that many Weres. We're going to have to swim.”

My heart pounded and a whine slipped from me. Angular face tight, Jenks accelerated. “I won't let you drown,” he said. “Or maybe we can find somewhere to hide until things settle,” he added, knowing as well as I that the longer we remained, the more likely it was that we'd be caught. But Nick was unconscious, and the idea of me dog-paddling all the way was daunting even if I would have a break traversing Round Island in between. I couldn't swim it as a person. What would being a wolf do for me? The entire situation was crap, but we had to get off the island.

“Shut up! Everyone shut up!” came a frantic voice through the radio, and I leaned over Nick, my ears swiveling. “This is the lighthouse. We have a problem. Unknown incoming force! Six boats from the Mackinac ferry dock. Mixed Weres!” the high-pitched, young voice said. “Uniformed. They know she's in trouble, and they're coming for her!”

Really?
Somehow I didn't think it was an unexpected rescue, but a second Were faction taking advantage of the chaos.
Damn it, that would make Mackinac Island tricky!

Brett's voice crackled out, chilling me. “Radio silence. Search leaders check in by cell phone. The rest of you, find them! Fire on them if you have to, but they can't have Sparagmos!”

The radio turned to a grating hiss.

Jenks pulled the Jeep to the side of the road. “Wake him up,” he said tightly, undoing his belt and getting out. “This is where we came in.”

My nose wrinkled when I scented the faint taste of decay on the breeze as the heat of the sun hit that deer carcass. Muscles tense, I hesitated, then licked the side of Nick's nose, not knowing what else to do. Hell, it worked in the movies.

Feet spread wide, Jenks looked up and down the road, squinting from under his borrowed cap. My tongue had made a long wet mark on Nick, but otherwise there was no change. Leaning into the Jeep, Jenks jerked Nick's head up by the hair and slapped him.

Nick exploded into motion. Screaming obscenities, he
lashed out, arms flung blindly. Frightened, I jumped from the Jeep. My nails dug into the dirt and I stared at him.

Wild-eyed, Nick took a shuddering breath upon realizing where he was. His haunted look turned into a glare, and he stared at Jenks standing belligerently with his hands on his hips and that pack hat on his head. The jays yelled back at him, and I wished they would shut up.

“We walk from here, crap for brains,” Jenks said darkly. “Let's go. Ever scuba dive?”

Nick eased himself out of the Jeep, stumbling when his bare feet hit the hard-packed road. “Once or twice,” he rasped, hunched into himself and holding his ribs.

My ears pricked and I wondered if he was serious. If I wasn't so worried about Nick, I might be able to concentrate on keeping my own head above water. Jenks, too, seemed surprised, saying nothing more as he led the way into the scrub.

One foot raised, I hesitated. Jenks was going the wrong way, toward the interior, not the beach. A questioning whine brought him around, and he gestured for me to join him, kneeling just inside the scrub off the road. Nick wobbled into the brush, and I trotted to Jenks, worried.

The pixy peered into my eyes, and I was thankful he didn't try to pet me. “Nick stinks,” he said, and Nick cleared his throat in protest. “They've got my scent, and yours,” he added, “but they aren't as obvious as Nick's. If you still had your scent amulets, we might be able to slip their lines, but not the way we are. I'm betting both the island Weres and the ones coming from Mackinac will start their search from the beaches and move in.”

So they catch us inland instead of on the beach,
I thought, but Jenks shifted his weight, regaining my attention. “I want you to take crap for brains to that carcass and sit tight. Hide yourself in its stink. I'll drive the Jeep down the road to confuse the trail, then come back.”

He wanted to separate? Again?
My black paws fidgeted, and Jenks smiled.

“It'll be okay, Rache,” he said. “I'll go tree to tree like a
squirrel. They won't trail me to you. Once they pass us, we'll slip out clear and easy.”

It wasn't him leading them back to us I was worried about, and I whined.

“You can do this,” he said softly. “I know it goes against your nature to sit and hide, and if it was just us, I'd say charge ahead and kick anyone's ass between us and the water….”

I made a doggie huff. Nick couldn't do it. We had to adapt to his condition. Agreeing, I sent my tail thumping. Yeah, it was degrading, but everyone knew dog-speak, and no one knew Rachel/wolf-speak but me.

Jenks smiled, standing to look tall above me. His pleased expression shifted to one of annoyance and he looked at Nick. “Got all that?” he asked, and Nick nodded, not looking up. “There's a deer carcass thirty feet from here. Go make nice with it.”

With a numb weariness, Nick picked his way there, old leaves crunching under his bare feet.

“Stay down until I get back,” Jenks said, carefully manipulating the keys so they wouldn't jingle.

I watched him retrace his steps, glancing both ways before breaking the camouflage of the surrounding brush and vaulting into the Jeep. Almost stalling it, he eased onto the road and drove away with the enthusiasm of an eighteen-year-old playing cops and robbers.

Not liking this at all, I turned and followed Nick. “A dead deer?” he said, squinting down at me as he lurched forward. “Is that what I smell?”

What could I say? Silent, I nudged my shoulder into him to force him to the right, trying to smell if Aretha was nearby. I didn't think so. It had gotten noisy, and though she wasn't afraid of Weres, it was likely she'd taken her pack to the thicker parts of the island.

Nick grimaced when we found the deer. I sat, wondering how we could make this work better. The clearing was covered with evidence of our earlier tussle. The smell of wolves, Jenks, me, and Weres were faint under the stench of
decaying tissue and saltwater, but we couldn't just sit next to it and hope everyone avoided it because it stank.

Blue eyes pinched, Nick looked over the situation. “There,” he said, his swollen hand shaking as he pointed to a deadfall where a downed tree had left a hole where its roots had been. “If I can get the deer over there…”

I watched him shake his sleeve down to use as insulation and grab the carcass by a hoof. Struggling, he started dragging it the necessary twenty feet. Nick went ashen when he unearthed a maggot farm under it, and gagging, I kicked leaves to cover them.

Nick, though, had a belly full of fear, which was apparently stronger than revulsion. Jenks was gone, and with that, I could almost see him starting to think again. With renewed strength he dragged the deer to the tree, its roots in the air. Getting the carcass before the hollow under the roots, he let the legs drop. He looked at me, and I bobbed my head. Though gross, if he wedged himself between the deer and the fallen snag, and maybe covered himself with leaves, he would be hidden from sight and smell.

Face twisted in disgust, Nick slowly found the ground between the deer and the exposed roots of the toppled tree, jerking when sticks hit his bare skin past the burn holes. Carefully raking the debris collected in the lee of the hollow, he covered himself, meticulously placing the dry leaves on top as he worked from his feet upward. “Good?” he asked when he finished, his head lightly covered. I nodded, and he closed his eyes, exhausted. His filth melted into the surrounding forest like camouflage; the scent of infection was hidden by the reek of decay.

Nervous, I eased closer, trying not to breathe as I crawled into the space behind him, settling myself so my head was on his shoulder, my ears brushing the top of the miniature cavelike shelter. It was a stretch, but I curled my tail over my nose as a filter. All that was left was waiting for Jenks. The sheltering roots made a roof against the open sky, and the scent of dirt was a pleasant alternative. It was all I could do
to not jam my nose into it. A blue-eyed fly crawled over the deer, laying eggs I couldn't see. If it landed on me, I was outta there.

While the jays called and the wind brushed the treetops, I studied Nick's haggard face, so close beside mine. The warmth of our bodies touching was guiltily pleasant. His breathing was slow, and I realized he was asleep when his eyes jerked in REM sleep. I had no idea what he had endured, but I couldn't imagine whatever they wanted could be worth it.

The screaming of the jays grew closer, and with a wash of fear I realized their calls had meaning. Something small raced through the underbrush and was gone, fleeing. My ears pricked and I scanned what I could of the disturbed clearing. Softer, then growing louder, I heard a whisper of wind. I could hear leaves moving, then nothing. The scent of oil, gas, and nylon touched my nose, and a surge of adrenaline made me cold. They were around us. God save us, we had gone to ground none too soon.

Heart pounding, I looked into the silent green, afraid to shift my head. A leaf fluttered down, and I prayed Nick didn't wake. I couldn't see anyone, but I could hear them. It was as if ghosts were passing before me, silent and invisible but for their scent.

My eyes flicked to where the sun glinted on smooth skin. A trembling took my feet, and I forced myself to not move. There were two of them, one on two feet, one on four. I didn't think they were the island Weres, but rather, off the boats from Mackinac Island—their uniforms looked like government issue and their gear was more aggressive.

The taller Were grimaced at the stink, and I slitted my eyes to nothing when the one on four feet nudged his leg and silently pointed with his nose. With a whisper, the Were checked in using the radio clipped to his lapel. There was the pop of a channel opening thirty feet away, and I saw a distant shadow of brown and green come to a halt, waiting to see what they had found.

Shit. There was a line of them. If we were found, it wouldn't be two Weres I'd be fighting, but a platoon.

I caught the word Jeep, but there was no jubilation, so I figured Jenks was still at large. Only now did the two Weres enter the clearing, the one in fur finding the broken splat balls and the three damp spots where Aretha and her pack had been doused with saltwater to break the sleepy-time charm. The other touched the ground where the deer had lain. His head came up, his eyes going right to the deer. I panicked, thinking he had seen us, but with a click, he got the attention of the Were on four feet. Together they looked over the clearing where we had been attacked, discussing with body signals what might have happened. The deer, they avoided.

The screaming jays grew closer, calling from right overhead for an instant until they continued, following the unseen line. The Were in fur snapped his teeth, and the other rose. Taking a red flag from a pocket, he jammed it into the ground, marking the clearing. Silently they headed farther inland. There was the soft scritch of cloth rubbing, then nothing.

My blood pounded. To lay there and wait for them to pass us had been one of the most frightening things I'd ever done. The jays' noise went soft, and I exhaled, started to pant.

Waiting for Jenks, my thoughts returned to the soft sureness the invading Weres had shown. Their sly hesitancy made the stark brutality of the three packs I had just escaped stand out all the more. Weres weren't savage—they just weren't—and I felt a spike of worry remembering the ugly ferocity of them ringing me. It had been more than them wanting to see a fight. They had been like a different species, younger and more dangerous, lacking the control that the alphas gave them. The trouble a cocky Were pack in Cincy could get into was enough to give me the shivers. The only reason Inderlanders and humans could coexist was because everyone knew their place in the social order.

I was so intent on my thoughts that I all but barked in surprise when Jenks dropped out of the tree above me.

“Holy crap,” he whispered, eyes dancing. “I was sure that one saw you. Damn, that deer stinks worse than a fairy's ass-wipe. Let's get out of here.”

I couldn't agree more, and leaving my disturbing thoughts about the strength Weres found in packing up, I crawled from my shelter, leaping over Nick in my haste. His eyes flashed open and he came up on an elbow after seeing Jenks, leaves falling to hide the deer's glassy eye. “I fell asleep,” he said, sounding ashamed. “Sorry.”

“We're behind their line.” Jenks didn't offer to help him stand, and I waited while Nick slowly gained his feet using the snag as support. His hands were swollen and there was a soft sheen of moisture on some of the burns as they oozed, bits of leaf chips stuck to them. I whined at Jenks to be nicer, but he wouldn't look at me, moving to play vanguard to the road.