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realized that it wasn't Jason anymore.
I rose up slowly on my elbows. Jason didn't try to eat me. Richard was still standing by the bars of his
cage, but his face had lengthened. He had a muzzle. His thick brown hair was longer. The hair seemed to
have flowed down his back, as if attached to the spine. He was holding onto his humanity with a string. A
weak, shiny string.
Edward was standing very still near the door. He hadn't tried to run when Richard went all spooky.
Edward always did have nerves of steel.
Chapter 42
Titus was the first one through the door. "I am mighty disappointed in you all. Carmichael here tells me
you almost had it, and this one interfered."
Kaspar stared at Richard as if he'd never seen him before. Maybe he'd never seen half-human, half-wolf
before, but something about the way he was staring said that wasn't it. "Marcus couldn't have done what
you did."
"Jason didn't want to hurt her," Richard said. "He wanted to do the right thing."
"Well, Birdman," Carmichael said, "what next?"
I stayed sitting on the rock floor. Jason was huddled against the far wall on his hands and knees, rocking
back and forth, back and forth. A low, moaning sound crawled out of his throat.
"He's near the edge," Kaspar said. "Blood will push him over. Not even an alpha can hold him in the
presence of fresh blood."
I did not like the sound of that.
"Ms. Blake, could you come over to the bars, please."
I moved so I could keep an eye on the moaning werewolf and the armed camp outside. "Why?"
"Either do it or Carmichael will shoot you. Don't make me start counting again, Ms. Blake."
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"I don't think I want to come over to the bars."
Titus took out his .45 and walked over to the other cage. Edward was sitting down. He looked at me
across the room, and I knew that if we ever got out, they were all dead. Richard was still standing at the
bars, hands wrapped around them.
Titus stared up at Richard's animalistic face and gave a low whistle. "Good lord." He pointed the gun at
Richard's chest. "These are silver bullets, Ms. Blake. If you called Garroway, we don't have time for two
hunts anyway. Garroway doesn't know you're here, so we have a little time, but we don't have all night.
Besides, I think the wolfman here might be too dangerous. So if you keep pissing me off, I'll kill him."
I met Richard's new eyes. "They're going to kill us anyway. Don't do it," he said. His voice was still a
grow that was such a deep bass that it crawled down my spine.
They were going to kill us. But I couldn't stand there and watch, not if I could prolong the inevitable. I
walked to the bars nearest them. "Now what?"
Titus stayed with the gun pointed at Richard. "Put your arms through the bars, please."
I wanted to say no, but we'd already established that I wasn't willing to watch Richard die just yet. It
made saying no sort of hollow. I slipped my arms through the bars, which put my back to the werewolf.
Not good.
"Grab her wrists, gentlemen."
I balled my hands into fists but didn't pull back. I was going to do this, right.
Carmichael grabbed my left wrist. The bearded Fienstien took my right. Fienstien wasn't holding on very
hard. I could have pulled away, but Carmichael's hand was like warm steel. I stared into his eyes, and
found no pity there. Fienstien was getting squeamish. Grey Hair, with his rifle, was in the middle of the
room, distancing himself from it. Carmichael was here for the whole ride.
Titus came over and started unwrapping the bandage on my arm. I fought the urge to ask what he was
doing. I had an idea. I hoped I was wrong.
"How many stitches did you get, Ms. Blake?"
I wasn't wrong. "I don't know. I stopped counting at twenty." He let the bandages fall to the ground. He
got out my own knife and held it up where it would catch the light. Nothing like a little showmanship.
I pressed my forehead to the cage bars and took a deep breath.
"I'm going to reopen some of this wound. Cut out your stitches."
"I figured that out," I said.
"No struggles?"
"Get on with it."
Aikensen came over. "Let me do it. I owe her a little blood."
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Titus looked at me, almost as if asking permission. I gave him my best blank look. He handed the knife
to Aikensen.
Aikensen held the point just over the first stitch near my wrist. I felt my eyes widen. I didn't know what
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