[b]Chapter Thirteen[/b]
"Sir? Sir! Can you hear me?"
A beam of light shines against your eyelids. You frown and lift a shaky hand to shield your face.
"This one's awake!" The voice calls out.
You open your eyes to see a man in blue medical scrubs and a surgical mask. He's crouched over you holding a torch and a foil blanket. "How are you? Are you hurt? Do you feel any pain?"
"Wh—where?" you sit up, wince, and look around.
It's early. Really early. The sun hasn't risen yet. You're on the road, naked, and caked in dried blood. Several bodies lie nearby, hidden beneath sheets of black plastic. Police cars block off the street in both directions. A parade of ambulances is parked up on the curb.
A sea of blue and red flashing lights.
"What's going on?" you croak. "What happened?"
"A gang war," the man says and wraps the blanket around your shoulders. "That's what the police are saying anyway."
You squint at him. "A gang war?"
Next
He nods. "You were lucky to survive. Most of the people that live here were... eh... shot."
"Shot?"
His forehead is spotted with sweat despite the icy early morning air. "That's what the police are saying," he says again. "But I... um... have seen some of the bodies." He drops his voice to a whisper. "They weren't shot. They were torn apart." He stares at you, eyes wide and frightened. "Did you see anything? Anything that could have done this? A demon? A monster? A werew—?"
"No," you say on reflex. "No. There is no such thing as werewolves. I didn't see—" and then your brain latches onto something else he said. Something horrible.
The people that live here.
"The people that were killed... they lived here?" you rasp around a sudden lump in your throat.
He nods. "Yeah. I think so. Those that have been identified did, anyway. Their addresses were all really nearby."
Your neighbours. The vampires were your neighbours. Blackwell turned your neighbours. You killed your neighbours.
There is dried blood under your fingernails. You can taste it between your teeth. You want to throw up. You feel like you might.
"Hey. You don't look so good. Are you—?"
"Gideon Mercer!"
Next
You look up to see Izzie running towards you. Her hair is a mess of black curls, her oversized pyjamas are covered in dirt, and her usually flushed face is blotchy and pale. She slams into you and squeezes hard.
"You're okay. You're okay."
"Yeah," you say, swallowing down a mouthful of bile and reaching out to awkwardly pat her head. "I'm okay, kiddo. What are you doing out alone?"
She looks up at you. Her eyes are watery and red. "There are people in the d—house. They put blankets on all the dead people. They put a blanket on Uncle Nikolas."
"They did?"
She nods. Tears spill down her cheeks.
"Where is everyone else?" you ask, to distract her more than anything else.
"I don't know! I don't know where anyone is!"
"Okay. Right. Okay."
You hoist yourself stiffly to your feet, flinching as the movement tugs on your rib, and hug the foil blanket around yourself. Every inch of you aches. "Come on," you take Izzie's hand. "Let's go find them."
"Wait!" the man in blue scrubs stares at you. "You were unconscious. You could be seriously hurt, even if you feel okay. Let me check you—"
"I'm fine," you lie. "I need to see my family."
Next
Izzie leads you back along the street. You see a store you never noticed before, Belle's Bridal Boutique, absolutely drowning in police tape. You also see several of your packmates being woken up by paramedics, and several more bodies covered in black tarps.
Every breath you take smells like death.
"How long have you been awake?" you ask Izzie to distract yourself.
She looks up at you and then back down. "I didn't sleep," she whispers. "Too scary. We stayed in the pantry. Minjo said we had to stay. But then, we were all wolves, except for Minjo and Nik, and it was quiet. Minjo left and didn't come back."
You stop walking. "Minjo left you in the pantry?"
Izzie nods. "I don't know where she went. I waited a long time. But then I heard police cars and so I came out and—"
"Okay," you say, feeling sick. "It's okay. We'll find her."
And then do what you should have done the moment you woke up. You howl.
okay?okay?okay?okay?okay?okay?
A series of scattered, confused responses.
Huh?
What?
Yes.
Think so.
Hungry.
Next
Izzie looks up at you, eyes wide and worried. "What about Minjo?" She whispers. "She can't howl."
You summon the image of Minjo in your mind's eye. The shape of her face, the warmth of her scent, the tenor of her voice... Minjo?Minjo?Minjo?Minjo?Minjo?
Izzie mimics your howl. Her cries tiny, puppyish yips, but clear enough to be understood.
Not here. Someone responds.
Don't know. Someone else adds.
Lost? A third asks.
No. Comes the final response. It's Addie. Her voice is sharp and abrupt. She's here. She's okay. Keep your howls peaceful.
Great. If only you knew where 'here' was. Still, you're content for the minute that Minjo isn't in any danger. Izzie seems to have calmed down too.
The den is in front of you. Some people are carrying bodies out the front door and loading them into ambulances. Others are just standing around, talking on their phones, or shaking their heads in disbelief.
No one stops you from ducking under the police tape and walking into the building.
Next
Inside is chaos.
Flood lights have been set up in every corner. Bodies lie side by side, covered in plastic, waiting to be taken away. Somewhere nearby, someone is shouting.
"—contaminating the crime scene!"
"Calm down. We're just doing our jobs."
"And what are your jobs exactly? Solving crimes? Or cleaning up?"
Paramedics cart out bodies, people in white bio-hazard suits take swabs of seemingly random surfaces, while others in ordinary police uniforms gawk at the mess.
You decide now is as good a time as any to address the fact that, beneath the foil blanket, you're as naked as the day you were born. You make a straight line for the cardboard box of clothes in the corner of the room. It's still there, unmoved, despite the chaos.
You reach in and pull out the first thing you find. A pair of jeans. They're too big for you but that doesn't matter. At least you have something other than a blanket.
The second thing you pull out is a hoodie. Large, mossy green, with white lettering on the front. Save the Quolls. Your heart stutters as you recognise what you're looking at. This was the Alpha's hoodie. Alek's hoodie.