They trotted over a couple of inches of snow on the road; the rest of this evening’s snowfall was artfully drifted on either side. He’d have to remember to thank the girls at the lake for that.
Muscles warmed up, Simon stretched into a run, leading the pack over the bridge. Good to run. Good to feel the clean bite of weather. Good to taste . . .
The wind shifted. An Owl, one of the Courtyard’s nighttime sentinels, flew overhead, calling a warning. <Intruders!>
There shouldn’t be anyone out on the road that wound between Lakeside Park and the Courtyard except for the snowplows that would rumble through the night to clear the roads for all the humans heading to work the next day. If a city worker had to come into the Courtyard, especially at night, a government official would have called Elliot beforehand. So no human had a reason to be here tonight.
Catching the scent, Simon turned onto a narrow service road that ran close to the Courtyard’s fence, pushing for all the speed he could get.
No howl, no sound, no warning. Just black, white, and gray shapes blending with the snow and the night as they raced toward the enemy.
A danger if the humans brought weapons, since the deeper snow on the service road was slowing the Wolves down enough that the intruders might get off a shot or two. But the humans had to break a trail through that snow too, so even if they wounded a couple of Wolves, they still wouldn’t get away.
<There,> Simon said.
Three humans slogging through the snow, heading away from the black wrought-iron fence that served as the Courtyard’s boundary.
<Rifle,> Elliot said.
<I see it,> Simon replied. Only one coming into their land with a weapon? Not likely. Just because he couldn’t see other weapons didn’t mean they weren’t there.
He caught sight of the black smoke moving just above the snow, rushing toward the intruders. Ignoring the smoke, he focused on the man with the rifle. The fool wasn’t paying attention and didn’t see him or the other Wolves coming until the third man looked around and shouted a warning.
The rifle swung in Simon’s direction.
They wouldn’t reach the enemy fast enough. The shot was going to hit one of them.
The black smoke suddenly surrounded the man with the rifle. Some of the smoke changed into hands that jerked the rifle skyward just as the man pulled the trigger.
Simon raced past the smoke and leaped, hitting the second man so hard they both lifted out of the broken trail and landed in fresh snow. His teeth closed over the thick scarf wrapped around the man’s neck, and the crushing power of Wolf jaws slowly strangled the prey while other Wolves clamped down on the man’s wrists, preventing him from fighting back.
The man engulfed in the smoke screamed.
Simon held on to his prey until it stopped struggling. Releasing the throat, he raised his head and sniffed the man’s face. Just unconscious.
Perfect.
Blood spread on the snow from the throat of the third man as the Wolves ripped open the clothes to get at the meat.
The smoke around the first man condensed until it became a black-haired man dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans. His arms were around the human; his hands were still clamped over the hands holding the rifle.
In their smoke form, the Sanguinati engulfed their prey and drew blood out through the skin. Not much skin was exposed in this weather, but the man’s face was sweating beads of blood that froze almost instantly.
<Vlad,> Simon said.
Vladimir smiled, revealing elongated canines. “I’ll take this one back to the Chambers. Grandfather is watching some of his old movies and will appreciate a fresh snack.”
Simon dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“Nyx and I will come by later to sort out whatever might be useful and dispose of the rest.” Still smiling, Vlad ripped the rifle out of the man’s grip, got a good hold of the heavy winter coat, and headed back to the Sanguinati’s part of the Courtyard, running easily as he dragged his prey.
Following the trail the humans left, Simon studied the broken junipers that had been planted as a screen to keep the Courtyard private from cars driving by—and from unwelcome eyes that might be watching from the park on the other side of the road. Standing on his hind legs, he shouldered between two bushes.
The trail led from a car parked on the shoulder of Parkside Avenue, its flashers blinking. The car would be reported when the next snowplow went by, but no one would come asking questions until morning—if anyone came by at all.
He trotted back to his prey.
Several Wolves were happily ripping the other body apart. Elliot waited near the unconscious man. When Simon approached, Elliot looked in the direction Vlad had gone.
<That was our prey,> Elliot growled.
<His too,> Simon growled back, showing his teeth. <We share.>
<Waste of meat.>
<Not a waste.> True, the Sanguinati didn’t use the meat, but after Vlad’s family had dined, he would call Boone Hawkgard, the Courtyard’s butcher. Tomorrow there would be a discreet sign in the shop’s window informing the terra indigene that special meat was available.
A change in the man’s breathing indicated a return to consciousness. Now it was time to eat.
Front toes elongated into strong, furry fingers with heavy claws. Simon and Elliot tore open the winter coat, ripped off the scarf, flannel shirt, and T-shirt, and shredded the jeans and long johns from thighs to ankles.
A gasping breath. The man opened his eyes.
Baring his teeth, Simon bit into the belly while Elliot tore out the throat, cutting off the man’s scream.
Rip. Tear. Gulp the hot, fresh meat. Simon pulled out the liver and gleefully devoured it, leaving the heart for Elliot. He ate his fill, then moved away, shrinking his front toes back to Wolf form as he rolled in fresh snow to clean his fur. When his friends had eaten their fill, Simon howled the Song of Prey. Any other Wolves who were out running tonight would swing by for a bite or two.
We share, he thought, looking at the arm he’d torn off the body at some point during the feeding. He picked it up and retraced his steps back to the Courtyard’s main road. Then he trotted off. He crossed over the Courtyard Creek Bridge and passed the Wolfgard land, finally leaving the arm in the Corvine part of the Courtyard. The Crows would appreciate an easy breakfast tomorrow.
A minute later, Elliot caught up to him, lugging part of a ribcage. His sire might not like sharing a kill, but when they had moved to Lakeside, Elliot had agreed to follow Simon’s lead.
Yes, the Crows would eat well in the morning. And by the time everyone else had had their share, there wouldn’t be much left of the monkeys to burn and bury.
CHAPTER 2
This is a car, this is a train, this is a bus. . . . Skull and crossbones means poison. . . . Shh. Be quiet. This is another lesson. . . . Pay attention, cs759. Watch what happens to someone who is poisoned. . . . This is a dog, this is a cat. . . . This video shows a woman riding a horse. . . . This is a child, this is a hammer. This is what happens to a face when . . .
A rumbling sound jerked Meg out of a restless sleep. Heart pounding, she stared at dark shapes defined by gray light, trying to remember where she was while she listened for footsteps in the corridor that would indicate the Walking Names were coming to begin the day’s spirit-breaking “pampering” and lessons.