Winter’s blood? Shit. Did they know? I scrabbled for my dropped purse. “Look, I’ll give it back to you—”
The first one, with the parka on, bent down, sniffing. She kept her eyes on me, breathing deeply.
“I’m sorry—my brother—you wouldn’t understand—” I sputtered.
The second one didn’t breathe at all. I saw her make a fist with a gloved hand and swing for me. I screamed and ducked lower—she hit my car instead, and I heard the door panel dent.
I crawled toward the front of my car. One of them grabbed my ankles and hauled me back. Reaching out, I put my hand into Peter’s gift box, tissue paper bleeding pink into the snow. The belt buckle rasped against asphalt as she yanked my deadweight again.
I flipped over, feeling the seams of everything that had just healed in my abdomen twist inside me, and punched out with the belt buckle by my fist. I caught the hoodless one’s jaw, and the skin there burned away. She cupped her hand to the wound, and for the first time her lips opened—to bay.
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck—” I curled into a ball, to try to protect myself. I was going to die here over a single dot of blood, in a mall parking lot, with Chinese food cooling in my poor dented car behind me.
The baying woman looked up. There was a loud thump, and my car shook up and down. I looked up, and a trench-coated figure stood on my hood.
Dren.
“Sun’s down, girly-girl. Time to play.” He squatted on his boot heels and looked at the two other women. “You’ve started without me. Tsk.” Who would have thought this morning, when I was looking for him like he was Jimmy Hoffa, that I’d be so happy to see him now.
“Dren—they—” I panted.
His eyes narrowed, staring at them over me. “You’re not bitten—or born. I would scent you if you were. Name your pack.”
The women fell back at this, appearing disoriented and confused.
“No—” Dren leapt off my car hood and landed beside me in the muck, his good hand on his sickle.
“Who are you?” one of the women asked. Then she looked to her friend. “What is this place? Where are we?”
I didn’t want to tell them they’d just been planning to kill me. I put my back against my car.
Dren kept himself between me and them, and he waved his sickle as if clearing the air of cobwebs between us. “You can see me. You know what I am. Go.”
The women turned and ran. One fell to her knees in the ice, then scrambled back up to get away.
“I—I thought they were weres?” I said aloud.
“So did I. Stay here,” he commanded, and rushed away as though he’d never been there to begin with.
I hoped he didn’t mean stay precisely here, my ass in the snow. I got up with a groan, collected my purse and my belt, and gingerly sat inside my car. My gloves were ruined, and the back of my new coat was soaked through. I took it off, turned on the heater, and rolled the driver-side window down. I didn’t want Dren sneaking up on me outside. Dren reappeared momentarily.
“Who were they?”
“What good does it do to share my suspicions with you?” He snapped his fingers as if beckoning a dog. “Did you get me what I desire?”
“I did—and it almost got me killed!” I pressed my hand to my stomach where I’d wrenched it wrong. My broken nail was throbbing, along with most of the rest of me.
Dren shook his head. “Which way is the wind blowing, Edie?” He pulled the glove off his good hand with his teeth, tucked it in his pocket, and licked his forefinger before holding it up.
I sank back into my car seat. “Just tell me, Dren. I don’t know.”
“North. All night.” Dren put his hand inside his pocket and slipped on his glove. “Those things didn’t scent you. They were sent after you. It’s quite a different verb.”
My lips pulled into a frown. I didn’t know why any weres would currently hate me. Jorgen had seemed peeved this morning, yes, but that was his natural state—maybe Viktor? But if so, why? And why did they suddenly forget who they were when Dren appeared? That seemed more a compulsion to me.
“Solve your problems on your own time.” Dren held his hand out. “Give me the blood. Now.”
I pulled the little test strip out of my purse. He inspected it before putting it into his mouth like a strip of gum.
“Interesting. Very interesting.” He rolled it around inside his mouth like the first sip of fine wine. Then he spit it out on the ground.
“What does it say?” I asked.
“It says your brother gets to live.” Dren gave me a faint smile, hiding the calculations occurring behind it.
“Anything else?”
“Nothing you need to know right now.”
“Nothing about all of this?”
“Go home, Edith.”
“Thanks for saving my life, I guess,” I said as ironically as possible.
Dren smiled cruelly, showing fangs. “You’re welcome.”
I hopped into my car. I’d check on the dent later—nothing in the door was going to affect my power steering, which was all I needed to get home right now. Before the engine took, Dren was gone. I didn’t see where to—and as long as he wasn’t riding along on my car’s roof, I didn’t care. Pulling out of the parking lot, I called Sike and got her voice mail.
“Hey. Two things that were allergic to silver just tried to kill me in a parking lot. Thought you might want to know,” I said, and hung up.
My apartment complex’s parking lot was empty, and my door was locked. I was very pleased to see the inside of my apartment again, even if that still included an eyeless aberration sitting on my couch.
“Who wants lemon chicken?” I asked as I walked in, and Gideon turned toward me. I smiled bravely, even though he couldn’t see.
I wrapped up my finger and put on the abdominal binder I’d been sent home with after my stabbing. Its tension around my waist, a feeling that I’d chafed at while wearing it originally, felt comforting now, like a squeeze from a good friend. I didn’t think I’d done any damage, but I wanted to make sure.
After the ceremony of setting out the many towels, it took a while to feed Gideon, and he was a horrible conversationalist. But it gave me a way to keep busy, even if it couldn’t entirely still my thoughts.
Who were those ladies? And why were they after me? If Dren didn’t know what pack they were from … what did that mean?
Gideon missed more food than went in, making a huge mess with each bite. Feeding a grown adult took a lot of time and reminded me of my nursing school days. Seemed like half my time was spent sitting in the rooms of elderly patients, feeding one half spoon of applesauce or pudding at a time. Sometimes those little old ladies were so hungry, and they hadn’t been properly, patiently, fed in so long, it just made you want to cry. Once people lost the ability to feed themselves, that was the beginning of the end. But not for Gideon, which made me want to cry a little, too.
I fed him until he didn’t want to eat anymore and I felt like a better person for it when I was done. At least one thing had gone right today, and for the past hour or so, no one had tried to kill me.
“Let’s find out what our fortunes are,” I said, like I did at the end of every Chinese meal, except most times I was talking to Minnie. I cracked open two cookies like walnuts and fished the slips of paper out of the cookie shards.
“Here’s yours, Gideon,” I said. “Now is not the time to circle mints.”
Gideon tilted his head at me.
“I’m so not kidding. That’s what it says. We should take it back.” I snorted and pulled out mine. “You will meet a tall, dark stranger? So original. Thanks, fortune cookie.”
I’d prefer not to meet any more strangers right now, maybe forever. I crumpled the fortune up and tossed it aside. At least it hadn’t said anything about meeting them in an alley. Or with knives.