Broken (Otherworld 6)

We found her trail easily enough. Found a whole snarl of them, so many that it was difficult to tell whether any of them were fresh.

To untangle the mess, Jeremy split us up into two teams. He assigned Nick, Clay and me the west side of the area.

The second tendril we followed led to the side door of an empty building plastered with yellowed and curling club vertigo coming soon signs. One look at the building, with its boarded-up windows and spidery cracks in the foundation, and I could have predicted to the hopeful club owners that their dream would never see fruition, buried under a mountain of astronomical contractor quotes. Or maybe the owners hadn't been as enthusiastically naive as they seemed. Schemes for new clubs were great cons for bilking youthful investors.

At the doorway, Clay stopped, then bent for a better sniff of the ground.

"Got an exit trail too," he said. "Been and gone."

I looked around to make sure no one was passing either end of the alley, then crouched and inhaled.

"More than one 'been and gone,' " I said.

"Could be her hideout," Nick said. "Can we get inside?"

Before I could answer, Clay did. "We should get Jeremy and Antonio first."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," Nick said.

"Gotta be careful these days."

Nick looked over at me--at my stomach--then nodded. "I'll run and grab them."

We stayed just inside the doorway until our eyes adjusted to the dark. The only source of light was the ribbons of moonlight peeking through the planks covering the windows. Even after our eyes adjusted, we could see little more than shapes.

"Should we Change?" I whispered to Jeremy.

He peered inside. "I think it'll be easier to search like this for now."

"Split up, then?"

Jeremy nodded. "We'll stay on this floor. You three take the north side. Meet back here when you're done."

The search was slow-going. Rose's scent permeated the place. Her trails seemed to crisscross in and out of every room, and there were plenty of rooms to crisscross through. From the outside, the place had looked like a warehouse, but in here it was a warren of small rooms, as if it had been converted to offices at some point before its decline. Searching as wolves would have been near-impossible. Turning door ha

ndles with your teeth is a real bitch.

We reached a closed door where the floor was thick with scent trails. I stood watch while Nick threw open the door and Clay wheeled through.

A muffled oath. Nick and I both rushed to Clay's aid. My foot hit a rotted board and I pitched forward. Nick lunged for me, and Clay turned, but my ankle twisted and I went down onto my knees before either could grab me.

As I fell, I sent up a cloud of dust that launched a sneezing fit. I pressed my hands over my mouth and nose to stifle it.

Clay knelt beside me. "You okay?"

"Just klutzy," I said. "And that, sadly, I can't even blame on being pregnant." I swallowed an impending sneeze. "Now that I've alerted anyone in here to our presence--"

Something hissed beside me. I turned to see a rat, reared up, teeth bared. Animals smelling their first werewolf usually run, but city rats can lose their natural fear of predators. This one opened his mouth to hiss again. Clay's foot caught it in the chest, and it flew across the hall and hit the wall with a splat.

"Touchdown!" Nick said.

Clay only curled his lip.

"Never did like rats much, did you?" Nick said.

"Disease-ridden vermin," Clay said. "Worse than scavengers. The room's crawling with them. Must be a nest."

Another rat peered out the partly open door, its nose twitching. Then it charged. Clay drop-kicked it into the wall beside its brethren.