Shadows (Ashes Trilogy 2)

“Did she say why?”

“Only that going too far east and deeper into Michigan would be bad. I didn’t think to ask any more. I thought there was plenty of time, and I was so tired out and scared. Jack and me, we were on our own for so long. It was a relief to have someone tell me what to do. I only wish I’d really listened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . ,” he began, then stopped. A huge tear trembled at the corner of his left eye.

“Daniel?” When he still didn’t reply, she touched his cheek. His skin was clammy and slick as cold marble. “Daniel?” she said softly. “What did you mean? Why didn’t you listen to Mellie? Why didn’t you do what she said?”

She watched the tear swell then splash to his cheek, and the sour scent of his loss and despair—and, worse, the scorch of his self-contempt—balled in her throat.

“Because I . . . I just c-couldn’t,” he choked. “Not after I saw you.”

46

That knocked her back.

“Me? What are you talking about?”

“I . . . we spotted your guys—the wolf-people? Like three days ago, and then we . . .” His streaming eyes meandered away a moment then drifted back. “We tracked you.”

“You—” she began, then stopped. Three days ago, Brian was still alive. “Are you kidding me? You tracked us? For three days?”

She wanted to slap his face: You had guns! You had grenade launchers! What the hell were you waiting for, an engraved invitation? “Why?”

“I told you.” Daniel lifted a quivering hand to his lips. “I tracked you because I saw you. I couldn’t let the Chuckies have someone normal. You’re one of us. I . . . I couldn’t let them just have you. So we followed you and then waited for an opportunity to take them out.”

Oh my God. Daniel had talked the other kids into a rescue mission. Kids would want to save their own. The really young ones, not yet old enough to understand how bad things could get, might’ve been pumped. For them, a rescue would be like playing a kick-ass video game.

“What I don’t get is how the wolf-people knew we were coming.”

Daniel’s said. “We stayed downwind and everything, just like Mellie taught us. That other tribe—”

“Tribe.”

Sure, like Wolf ’s pack, Leopard’s crew might be called a tribe. “The kids in white?”

“Yeah. They came out of nowhere. We only got off a couple shots and then Jack . . .” He put an arm over his eyes and turned his head toward the far wall.

Her anger vanished. What the hell was she doing? She had no right. Daniel was no older than she, and all he’d tried to do was help her—and look how well that turned out. She felt sick again, and weak. This really wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t to blame. She couldn’t control everything. Shit happened.

Yeah, right. God, first Tom, then Chris gets hurt because of me. And now Daniel’s friends get themselves killed, and Jack—

Daniel reeled in a watery breath. “They surprised that wolfguy, too.”

Through the bitter fog of her guilt, it took her a second to register. “The guy. You mean, Wolf ?” The sudden tightness in her chest was something she could’ve done without. Why she should care about a monster was still beyond her. “You saw him?”

“Yeah. The girl, the one with the face.” He tapped his cheek. “She shot him.”

“Shot . . .” The word dried up on her tongue. “Spider shot him?”

When he threw her a questioning look, she added, “It’s what I call her. She’s got that designer gear, so . . . Why did she shoot him? What for?”

She could see Daniel thinking about that. “She was . . . angry. Like she didn’t want to be there at all. I’m not exactly sure how I know that, but she was.”

“Be where?”

“A clearing maybe a half mile from here. They were doing this really weird ritual thing. You know those wolf skins they wear? Well, they had a real live wolf, this great big gray guy they’d probably trapped or snared. I couldn’t see everything because it was getting on dark and the snow had already started. But the wolf was really strong, fighting the ropes. The girl, Spider—she had that big honking knife and so did the guy. I’m sure they were going to kill and then skin it.”

This was news. She knew nothing about this side of the Changed. She thought back to that arena near Rule, the way flanked by flayed wolf carcasses. “What happened?” she asked.

“To the wolf, I mean.”

“I don’t know. In the confusion, it might have gotten away. But the way the wolf-people were gathered around, it felt like . . .” He groped for the word. “Religious. Except for the girl, Spider? She was pissed, like it wasn’t her idea.”

Hmm. That was the second . . . no, third time Daniel seemed to either know or intuit how the Changed felt.

“So I was thinking, great, hit ’em now when they’re distracted,” he continued. “Only the other guys swarmed all over us, and then I saw her with one of them, a real tall guy—”

“Leopard.”

“Okay.” Daniel accepted the nickname. “Leopard went right up to her, and then she was yanking out his pistol. She turned fast, popped off a couple shots at the wolf-boy. He was moving before she got all the way around, and then he made it to the woods, but you could tell he got hit. She started after him, only the little guy tried to stop her, and then she popped him in the back.”

The little guy would be Beretta. She thought about that. She had assumed the Changed could read one another like telepaths, in a way. But that wasn’t quite right, was it? Wolf never saw Spider coming, or by the time he did, there wasn’t enough time to save himself. So the Changed couldn’t be, well, broadcasting all the time, if that’s even what they did.

But that’s why I’m here with Daniel. It was another hunch, a brainping, but she thought she was right. Spider killed Wolf. Slash took me to Daniel, which means Spider’s just as happy if Beretta gets neglected to death. Why? Because Beretta was loyal to Wolf ? That was plausible. Of the pack, Beretta and Acne seemed closer to Wolf than Slash was. Guys tended to hang with guys. Slash and Spider were the only girls. Maybe Slash was a minion, the kind of high school kid grateful to be a remora to Spider’s shark. And how had Spider gotten word to Leopard in the first place? How did she know Leopard? From before? Unless . . .