“I’m good,” I said, straightening. “Any time you want to go—”
Something moved above our heads. I looked up as Liam leaped from the rooftop. He landed on his feet right behind Derek.
“Your boy’s not quite ready to leave, cutie. He has some business to finish first. ”
Liam hit Derek with an uppercut that sent him reeling, blood spraying from his mouth. I fumbled for my knife, but it caught in the folds of my pocket. By the time I had it out, Derek had hit Liam back and now they were both on the ground, rolling, each trying to get a grip on the other.
How many movie fight scenes had I seen? I’d even written a few. But being there, watching it, with someone I knew in serious danger, made those movie fights seem like they’d been filmed in slow motion. This was a whirlwind of fists and feet and grunts and gasps and blood. Mostly what I saw was the blood, flying, spattering, dripping, as I darted back and forth, knife in my hand.
I thought of all the times I’d been in an audience, snarking about the stupid, useless girl hovering on the sidelines of a fight, holding a weapon but doing nothing, watching the guy get pummeled. I knew I had to help Derek. I knew he was in trouble, that most of that blood and those gasps and grunts were his. I wasn’t afraid to use the knife. I wanted to use it. But there wasn’t a chance. The fists flew and the bodies flew and the kicks flew, and every time I thought I had an opening, I’d dash forward only to find Derek in my path, not Liam, and I’d pull up fast before stabbing him.
Then Liam got Derek on his knees, in a headlock, his free hand in Derek’s hair. He yanked Derek’s head back, and I saw the girl at the truck stop, her throat slashed, and I didn’t stop to think whether I could do it, I ran at Liam and I drove the knife into the back of his thigh, ramming it in to the hilt.
Liam let out a howl and backhanded me. I sailed into the air, knife still clutched in my hand. I heard Derek shout my name as I hit the wall. My head cracked back against the brick. The floodlights overhead exploded into shards of light.
Derek grabbed me before I hit the ground.
“I-I’m fine,” I said, pushing him away.
I got my footing, wobbled, and found it again.
“I’m fine,” I said, stronger now.
I looked around. My knife had fallen beside me. I scooped it up.
Liam lay behind Derek, writhing on the ground, snarling as he tried to stanch the blood. We took off.
This time no one was chasing us, but it didn’t matter. We kept running, knowing Liam would come after us the moment he was able.
“We need to get you to a bathroom,” Derek said as we rounded a building.
“Me? I’m—”
“We need to get you to a bathroom. ”
I closed my mouth. Derek was obviously in shock and he did need a bathroom, to clean up and check the damage.
“He’s going to follow our trail,” I said. “We have to trick him. ”
“I know. I’m thinking. ”
I was, too, recalling every fugitive movie I’d ever seen where someone evaded tracking dogs. I slowed when I saw a huge puddle from the rain and a trash-clogged gutter. The water stretched at least ten feet across. Then, I had a better idea.
“Climb on the curb and walk along the edge,” I said.
“What?”
“Just do it. ”
We jogged along the curb until I saw a door to a small apartment building. I led Derek over and pulled on the knob. It was locked.
“Can you break it?” I asked.
He wiped off his bloody hands, then grabbed the knob. I tried to get a better look at him to see how badly he’d been beaten, but it was too dark, and I could see only smears of blood everywhere—on his face, his hands, his sweatshirt.
He yanked the door open. We went inside, circled around a bit, then came back out.
“Now we’ll follow the path we came on,” I said. “Along the top of the curb. Backtrack. ”
When we reached the puddle, I stopped. “We’re going to cut through. ”
Derek nodded. “So he’ll reach this, keep following our trail and think we’re somewhere in that apartment, not realizing we doubled back on our tracks. Smart. ”
Wading ankle deep through frigid water seemed to knock away the last of Derek’s shock. Once we reached the other side, he took over and got us downwind so Liam couldn’t smell us. Then he hustled me into a coffee shop. There were only a handful of people inside, all clustered at the counter, chatting with the server. No one even looked up as we made a beeline for the bathroom.
Derek scooted me into the men’s room and locked the door. He hoisted me onto the counter before I could protest, then scrubbed his hands well, sleeves pushed to his elbows, like he was preparing for surgery.
“Uh, Derek…?”
He wet a paper towel, and took my chin, lifting and wiping my face.
“Derek? I’m not hurt. ”
“You’re covered in blood. ”
“But it’s not mine. Honest. It’s from—”
“The werewolf. I know. ” He picked up my hand and started cleaning it. “That’s why I have to get it off. ”
“Derek?” I leaned down, trying to see his face. “Are you okay?”
He kept scrubbing. “There are two ways to become a werewolf. Either you’re born one or you get bitten by one. If you get the saliva in your bloodstream, it’s like a virus. ”
“Blood, too?”
“Dad says no, it’s just saliva. But he could be wrong, and you’ve got cuts and scrapes and blood all over. ”
I had a few cuts and scrapes, and I was only flecked with blood, but I kept my mouth shut and let him clean.
As he did, I tried to check out how badly he was hurt. His scraped cheeks were pitted with gravel. His nose was bloodied. Broken? One eye was already darkening. Was that blood in the corner? His lip was cut and swollen. Were any teeth loose? Missing?
“Stop fidgeting, Chloe. ”
I couldn’t help it. His injuries obviously needed more attention than mine, but there was no sense saying anything until he was done.
Finally, when he seemed to have scrubbed off every fleck of blood—and a few layers of skin—I said, “Okay, now on to you. ”
“Take off your jacket and sweatshirt. ”
“Derek, I’m clean. Trust me, I’ve never been this clean. ”
“You’ve got blood on your cuffs. ”
As I took off the jacket, the zipper snagged my necklace.
“It’s caught—” I began.
Derek gave the jacket a tug…and the chain snapped, the pendant dropping. He swore and grabbed it before it hit the floor.
“—on my necklace. ”
He swore some more, then said, “I’m sorry. ”
“The girl in the alley grabbed it,” I lied. “The clasp was probably weak. No biggie. ”
He looked down at the pendant in his hand. “Wasn’t this red before?”
I hadn’t taken a good look at it for a couple of days—no mirrors and the pendant had been under my shirt. I’d thought the color seemed different before, but it had changed even more now, almost blue.