Chapter 13
(Days left to full moon: 10)
Panic was setting in. Days had passed, but I had yet to find Chaz. Hawk hadn’t sent me any replies since his last message, even though I’d sent a few follow-ups. Jack and Nikki were pissed at me for trying to hunt by myself, and at Bo for losing me in the city. Bo was still pissed at me for ruining his sweater and running off. And Keith wasn’t being very helpful about the USB.
Keith wasn’t being that way on purpose. He’d been assigned to some other duty by Jack and couldn’t devote much time to me. Though I couldn’t imagine what was more pressing than the need to find Chaz before the full moon, it was taking up a great deal of Keith’s attention. He’d opened up the USB, only to give the thoroughly disappointing news that it included copies of invoices, some tax documents, and a host of pictures of Chaz in ... shall we say... “compromising” circumstances.
It appeared Kimberly wasn’t the only one who had been on the receiving end of Chaz’s attentions. Even though I hadn’t been wearing the belt, it was a good thing Patrick had been around when Keith unlocked the encryption on the disk. Patrick had to put me in a headlock so I couldn’t destroy a second computer in my rampage.
Now that I thought about it, that might have had something to do with why Keith wasn’t in a mood to help me lately.
After I’d bugged him a number of times, he’d given me a laptop to use, warning me not to break this one and to stay out of my own e-mail accounts so authorities couldn’t track my IP address. I already knew better than to do something that stupid, but I let him lecture me on Internet security for about half an hour (tuning out most of it, to be honest) and then snatched up the laptop and took it back to my room.
There were a number of things I wanted to do, but first I went through the USB drive a second time. A few times, I dug my fingernails into my palms hard enough to make them bleed, but I went through every file, including the pictures.
If I hadn’t wanted to kill him before, the images of him with all those other girls now guaranteed I’d rip his nuts off and feed them to him when I found him. He might have been dating me, but it was now obvious that Kimberly wasn’t the only girl he’d been plowing on the side. Each was sorted by date and a name. There were pictures of him and I together, but what killed me were the ones he’d taken of himself with four other women—not including Kimberly—tagged with dates during times that we had still been a couple. Some from before I’d even known he was Were. He must have been storing the flash drive at work so I would never find these photos. No wonder he was always so “busy.”
The only bright side to any of it was pay dirt in the form of pictures that matched up with some things on his tax return from 2006. He’d somehow come up with the collateral and purchased a piece of property somewhere on Long Island, another plot of land in Buffalo, and another one just outside of some town in the Hudson Highlands. If I recalled correctly, that was right around the time he’d told me he’d become the pack leader of the Sunstrikers. Maybe that meant he’d inherited the lands from the previous pack leader or that his new position came with some financial perks; I doubted he had the kind of money or credit to buy those properties on his own. The addresses were worth checking out, if only because he could be hiding at one of those locations. It was the only good news I’d come across in days. Which was good, because I was running out of time to hunt.
Rohrik Donovan had warned me about the symptoms of the virus taking root. The words he’d spoken were practically seared into my brain.
“Without blood tests, you won’t know for sure right away. Symptoms don’t usually appear until seven to ten days before the next full moon. You’ll crave rare or uncooked meat. You’ll find your temper snapping at things that at any other time would be insignificant. Some environmental triggers, mostly scents, may make you feel nauseous or uncomfortable. As it gets closer to the full moon, you’ll develop a sensitivity to loud noises and may run a fever. Bright lights will hurt your eyes. The first change is painful and disorienting, so don’t wait to contact me if you start showing symptoms. Too much stress, and you might change before it’s time.”
My temper had certainly morphed me into something resembling She-Hulk the last few days. Though it was usually only when I woke up, bright lights
had
been bothering me. My appetite had been a bit off, and I’d been craving odd things, but so far I hadn’t had any desire to bite into a bloody piece of steak at the dinner table.
There was no way to know yet if it meant I was turning. Not unless I got some blood tests done by a doctor who wouldn’t report me on that national registry the government had instituted, requiring anyone with a license to practice medicine or blood pathology to alert the Feds if someone had a potential or confirmed infection. When I’d asked Dr. Morrow if he could do it, he said he didn’t have the equipment he needed here, and that he’d have to take a sample to a lab. Explaining away where he got the blood would be too risky.
Rohrik was unlikely to still be in a mood to help me after that stunt I pulled at the park. He owed me, but there was only so far I could push him or so much I could ask in return.
The not knowing was killing me. The combined worry of wondering what had happened to Sara, where Chaz was hiding, and whether or not I was infected had driven me into a frenzy of research and constant irritation. The White Hats had mostly left me to my own devices once Keith gave me the computer, probably happy that I was out of their hair.
Patrick, Jason, and Adam had been coming and going the last couple of days, gearing up for something Jack, Nikki, Keith, and Bo hadn’t bothered to tell me about. I gathered from the looks I was given when I happened to wander downstairs during the few times the three other White Hats stopped by that I wasn’t welcome to join in on whatever super-secret plans they were formulating.
As much as I was itching to check out those pieces of property from Chaz’s tax returns
right now,
I kept my head long enough to go through the entire disk for anything else of use before bringing my findings to Jack. He’d given the paperwork I’d put together a dismissive glance, more interested in visiting Chaz’s home address again than in searching those other properties. He didn’t think the Sunstrikers would be hiding somewhere so easily linked to Chaz, still holding out hope that one of his contacts might come up with something more concrete, and didn’t want to waste time going on a wild goose chase. Not that I blamed him much. Buffalo at this time of year would be miserably cold and rainy, and it was a seven-hour drive, minimum, one way. Taking an entire day to most likely find a whole lot of nothing wasn’t currently on my to-do list, though depending on how desperate I became over the next few days, I’d be willing to drive up by myself if only to be certain Chaz wasn’t there.
Like Jack, I thought it would be a good idea to check Chaz’s brownstone for clues before rushing off to visit these other properties. The hunter had also intimated that he’d come across other information of interest, but the bastard was playing everything close to his chest and wouldn’t tell me what he’d learned. Jack’s unwillingness to communicate useful information was driving me up the wall, and made it clear why Royce had made a deal to keep the guy alive with Royce’s own blood. The mind games and manipulations Jack pulled would do the vampire proud. The two of them would make quite a pair considering how much they both liked to play the I-know-something-you-don’t game.
If Royce turned him, Jack was going to be one hell of a scary vampire.
With ten days until the full moon, I wrapped myself up in a borrowed parka and gloves of Nikki’s and followed Jack, Bo, and Patrick out to the car. We’d waited until dusk to make the drive, partially to avoid the chances of prying eyes or being recognized, and partially so I could be prepared with the belt.
I hadn’t told anyone—not even Jack—about what the belt could do. I didn’t want it taken away from me or destroyed. The White Hats were already assuming I was turning Were no matter what, so I let them think that my extra strength and speed came from my growing (hopefully nonexistent) furry side. When I told them I needed to work after sunset because I “felt stronger then,” they exchanged knowing looks I couldn’t fail to see, and agreed to limit any forays into the city in search of Chaz and the rest of the Sunstrikers that included me to after nightfall.
Jack took the wheel and Bo took shotgun, which disappointed me. I wasn’t looking forward to sharing the backseat with numbnuts.
Patrick, for his part, didn’t seem too thrilled to be seated next to me either. Though I wasn’t interested in him as anything more than a distraction from the circular thoughts about what the hell was going on lately, I did find he wasn’t too unpleasant to look at. He had the toned body and chiseled jaw complete with stubble that seemed requisite in any man who deemed himself badass enough to hunt supernaturals. His hair was a pale reddish color, and I spied some kind of tribal tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his sweater.
More interesting were the weapons making slight bulges under his track jacket and outlined against his pants. Apparently he was more interested in looking good, showing off his assets, than in wearing something loose enough to hide that he was carrying concealed. He’d probably watched one too many action flicks.
Then again, considering how I’d dressed during my showdowns with the Borowsky kid and Max Carlyle, I wasn’t in a position to be pointing fingers about the latest in chic hunter fashion.
When he noticed I was checking him out, he fixed me with a steely glare. His eyes were a lovely hazel color. If he hadn’t been such an ass, I might have found him attractive.
“What are you looking at?”
Bo glanced back at us, concerned despite being pissed at me. It didn’t matter. Patrick might have pumped iron, but he wasn’t a match for me when I was wearing the belt.
I smiled sweetly at him. “You.”
He didn’t seem to know how to take that. I’d deliberately kept any hint of sarcasm or mockery out of my voice. Coupled with the smile, my response no doubt made him think I was a few beers short of a six-pack.
“Well, knock it off,” he muttered, shifting his weight and turning his glare to something on Bo’s headrest. He’d also started fingering the hilt of a blade tucked up one of his sleeves. Funny to think I made the big man so nervous.
‘You know what he’s thinking, don’t you?’
the belt asked.
Oh, I can imagine,
I responded mentally.
Something along the lines of “creepy, leech-loving bitch. ” Or maybe he’s thinking about how the signs of turning are getting stronger.
The belt laughed and sent a wave of warmth into my belly and cheeks, shifting its awareness to my insides.
‘He must see something I don’t. I haven’t noticed any changes.’
Yeah, but you aren’t around me all the time. The days have been getting pretty hard to bear without you, Isaac.
‘How sweet. Don’t tell me you’re falling for this old ghost.’
My smile widened, and I turned my attention to the world passing by the car outside.
You’re the closest thing I’ve got to a friend here. You’re the only one who hasn’t been pretending to be something you aren’t, or been planning to kill me when you’re done using me for your own ends. It’s got to count for something, right?
The belt didn’t respond right away.
‘You’re the only person who has worn me and not judged me for sacrificing myself to this life. Whether or not you turn, I’ve considered this time together an honor.’
It was my turn to go quiet. It was hard to reply to that.
Of course the belt had to ruin the moment.
‘And if I was corporeal again, you’d be the first person I’d come to so I could get laid.’
Gee, thanks.
‘I don’t suppose you’d consider—’
Don’t even think about it. It’s creepy enough that you read my thoughts and memories. There’s no freaking way you’re going to be around my waist while I do
that.
It made a harrumphing sound in the back of my skull.
‘Fine,’
it sulked.
‘Can’t tell you how awful it is being stuck without a body and with no way to find release. That kiss you gave the vampire was the closest thing I’ve had to action in centuries.’
Oh, my God, do not talk to me about this!
“We’re here.”
Blinking the haze of worry and guilt away, I focused on my surroundings. Chaz’s brownstone, identical to all the others on the row, was dark and, as far as I could see from the outside, empty. There were no marked cars parked outside, so unless someone was pulling undercover surveillance, the cops weren’t still looking for him here.
Patrick got out first, speaking over his shoulder in a gruff tone that made me wonder if he was just itching to get away from me or if he really wanted the duty. “I’m going to take a quick stroll to make sure there aren’t any plainclothes watching the place. Wait here.”
We did. The silence was neither awkward nor comfortable. Patrick walked slowly up the sidewalk, looking at the houses, then at the cars, then back to the houses. He crossed the street and did the same on the other side, doing a fairly convincing job of looking like he was lost and a bit slow in the head, unable to figure out where he was going.