Living With the Dead (Otherworld 9)

Hope and Karl stood twenty feet away on a strip of grass between two buildings. The other man was nowhere to be seen. Hope had her back to Robyn, Karl gripping her upper arms, leaning over her. His voice was a soothing murmur, as if trying to calm her.

Even from where Robyn stood, she could tell Hope was shaking. Karl's grasp seemed to be the only thing keeping her from collapsing. After a moment, he straightened, eyes narrowing as he looked around. His lips parted, then a flash of annoyance as he swiped at his lip. Droplets of red splattered on white siding. Her gaze slid along the wall, seeing more crimson spots. Blood.

Karl shifted position into the light more. Blood oozed from his lip, more smeared across his face. His white shirt was dappled red.

Robyn looked from Hope, shaking with fear, to Karl, covered in blood.

Oh God, what had she done? She should never have let them get involved. It didn't matter that they hadn't asked permission. She let them get involved.

She squared her shoulders, ready to march over there and say "no more." She was going to the police. They couldn't stop her.

She lifted one foot, replayed her speech and realized how it would sound - as if she wanted them to stop her. And when they did, she could tell herself she'd tried - if not very hard - to do the right thing.

Doing the right thing meant doing it, not talking about it.

Robyn backed away from the corner.

* * *

HOPE

Karl rubbed Hope's forearms as she shivered, caught up in the chaos still swirling around her brain.

"Ride it out," he said. "Stop fighting it."

"I have to get back to Robyn."

"You can't let her see you like this."

"I know," she said through gritted teeth. "That's why I'm trying - "

" - to fight it. And that's why I'm telling you not to. Robyn's in a public place, surrounded by people. Look after yourself first." He bent to her ear. "Enjoy it."

He was right, but that didn't make the advice any easier to take. She wanted to be able to say "sorry, bad timing," and move on.

Karl straightened, still rubbing her forearms as he looked around.

"Any sign of him?"

He opened his mouth to answer, then scowled and swiped at the blood dripping from his lip, drops spattering the wall beside them. The blow that split his lip was what had brought Hope running. She'd been talking to Robyn and seen the younger werewolf's fist connecting with Karl's jaw, blood spraying, Karl reeling back.

The vision came without any spark of pleasure, more like the blast of a warning alarm, shutting down common sense and sending her flying to his rescue even when she knew he didn't need it. She could only imagine what Robyn thought. Probably still sitting there, shaking her head.

Hope had followed that chaos burst to find Karl alone on this strip of land where he'd fought the werewolf, cursing as he'd tried to clean his bloodied face with a scrap of tissue, his fury and frustration like a beacon guiding her in.

Earlier, as they'd driven past the ice cream stand, it had taken him only one whiff to confirm his fear - that the werewolf he'd smelled earlier had tracked him back to the motel room. Karl had set out in pursuit while Hope went to watch over Robyn. He'd caught up with the other man - Grant Gilchrist, a younger werewolf he'd bumped into a few years before.

The blow to Karl's mouth had knocked him off balance just long enough for Gilchrist to take off. Karl had been about to follow when a security car had turned the corner. By the time Karl could cross, Gilchrist was running through a busy supermarket parking lot where, with his white shirt covered in blood, Karl couldn't follow. The last thing he'd seen was Gilchrist getting into a cab.

So Karl had retreated to clean up. The blood on his shirt and the wall came from Gilchrist. Karl's only injury was the split lip, which bothered him no more than a broken nail. Still, Hope pulled out napkins from the ice cream stand and wiped his injury for a better look, which he withstood with an exaggerated patience that said he really didn't mind being fussed over.

"That's the best I can do." She balled up the napkin. "And it's still not good enough for you to walk around in public. I'll run back to Robyn, make sure she's okay, then grab a shirt at one of the stores. It won't be up to your standards..."

"I'll make an exception."

She nodded and jogged off. She didn't look back, but knew he was there, watching over her for as long as he could.

* * *