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We passed another row of cars, then rounded a tiny snowdrift the snowplow had made. That’s when I saw another woman step out of the woman’s car. I stopped, and as the first turned to look at the second, and I saw that she wasn’t holding anything after all.

I turned and ran for my car.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I was fumbling for my keys as they clattered behind. Some part of me still hoped I was overacting, but as I unlocked my door and caught the handle to open it, a hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back. One of my fingernails bent and broke inside my glove, and I hissed in pain as she shoved me to the ground.

“Fire!” I yelled, like I’d heard you were supposed to. “There’s a fire!” I scrambled to my knees and put my back against my car door. Now, inside my pocket, my badge was glowing day-bright. Hell of a time to warn me.

The two women stood there, heads cocked sideways, as if they were listening to something I couldn’t hear. “What do you want?”

Winter’s blood? Shit. Did they know? I scrabbled for my dropped purse. “Look, I’ll give it back to you—”

The first one, with the parka on, bent down, sniffing. She kept her eyes on me, breathing deeply.

“I’m sorry—my brother—you wouldn’t understand—” I sputtered.

The second one didn’t breathe at all. I saw her make a fist with a gloved hand and swing for me. I screamed and ducked lower—she hit my car instead, and I heard the door panel dent.

I crawled toward the front of my car. One of them grabbed my ankles and hauled me back. Reaching out, I put my hand into Peter’s gift box, tissue paper bleeding pink into the snow. The belt buckle rasped against asphalt as she yanked my deadweight again.

I flipped over, feeling the seams of everything that had just healed in my abdomen twist inside me, and punched out with the belt buckle by my fist. I caught the hoodless one’s jaw, and the skin there burned away. She cupped her hand to the wound, and for the first time her lips opened—to bay.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck—” I curled into a ball, to try to protect myself. I was going to die here over a single dot of blood, in a mall parking lot, with Chinese food cooling in my poor dented car behind me.

The baying woman looked up. There was a loud thump, and my car shook up and down. I looked up, and a trench-coated figure stood on my hood.

Dren.

“Sun’s down, girly-girl. Time to play. ” He squatted on his boot heels and looked at the two other women. “You’ve started without me. Tsk. ” Who would have thought this morning, when I was looking for him like he was Jimmy Hoffa, that I’d be so happy to see him now.

“Dren—they—” I panted.

His eyes narrowed, staring at them over me. “You’re not bitten—or born. I would scent you if you were. Name your pack. ”

The women fell back at this, appearing disoriented and confused.

“No—” Dren leapt off my car hood and landed beside me in the muck, his good hand on his sickle.

“Who are you?” one of the women asked. Then she looked to her friend. “What is this place? Where are we?”

I didn’t want to tell them they’d just been planning to kill me. I put my back against my car.

Dren kept himself between me and them, and he waved his sickle as if clearing the air of cobwebs between us. “You can see me. You know what I am. Go. ”

The women turned and ran. One fell to her knees in the ice, then scrambled back up to get away.

“I—I thought they were weres?” I said aloud.

“So did I. Stay here,” he commanded, and rushed away as though he’d never been there to begin with.

I hoped he didn’t mean stay precisely here, my ass in the snow. I got up with a groan, collected my purse and my belt, and gingerly sat inside my car. My gloves were ruined, and the back of my new coat was soaked through. I took it off, turned on the heater, and rolled the driver-side window down. I didn’t want Dren sneaking up on me outside. Dren reappeared momentarily.

“Who were they?”

“What good does it do to share my suspicions with you?” He snapped his fingers as if beckoning a dog. “Did you get me what I desire?”

“I did—and it almost got me killed!” I pressed my hand to my stomach where I’d wrenched it wrong. My broken nail was throbbing, along with most of the rest of me.

Dren shook his head. “Which way is the wind blowing, Edie?” He pulled the glove off his good hand with his teeth, tucked it in his pocket, and licked his forefinger before holding it up.

I sank back into my car seat. “Just tell me, Dren. I don’t know. ”

“North. All night. ” Dren put his hand inside his pocket and slipped on his glove. “Those things didn’t scent you. They were sent after you. It’s quite a different verb. ”

My lips pulled into a frown. I didn’t know why any weres would currently hate me. Jorgen had seemed peeved this morning, yes, but that was his natural state—maybe Viktor? But if so, why? And why did they suddenly forget who they were when Dren appeared? That seemed more a compulsion to me.

“Solve your problems on your own time. ” Dren held his hand out. “Give me the blood. Now. ”