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AN UNDENIABLE SIGN

Staying low, Westvane sprinted into the Rittenhouse Square. Pretty place, even in the semi-dark. Lampposts rose at even intervals, throwing light across wide pathways crammed full of people. Thick tree branches cast long shadows, dappling statues in dormant flowerbeds. Humans thronged the square, carrying signs, standing on benches, climbing the many trees, all facing a man with a megaphone chanting “The whole world is watching.”

The crowd yelled the slogan back. Over and over. Again and again.

The sound of voices rose and fell, throbbing like a heartbeat, pumping life blood into the protest. A quick sweep made Westvane clenched his teeth. The protest was about to get ugly. Police stood outside the perimeter, surrounding the square, waiting for trouble to start.

And it would.

Frustration and rage were about to boil over. He sensed it. Smelled it. Picking the invisible threads that signaled violence out of thin air. Two potent scents combined, intricately entwined, the frenzy an undeniable sign the beast was close. Which made perfect sense. Where the Wendigo went, chaos, death, and destruction always followed.

Though the beast never got its own hands dirty. The Wendigo left that to those it twisted into fury, whispering incendiary thoughts into their ears, corrupting the good, elevating the bad… reveling in the fallout.

Infiltrating the crowd, Westvane kept his eyes on the male with the megaphone. The Wendigo must be nearby, egging the crowd on, whipping humans into a frenzy. Soon, the savagery would begin. Small circles were already forming, fists flashing as men fought at the center.

He needed to move faster. To find a way in now, before —

Glass shattered against the path. Clear liquid splashed up and out of the broken container. Fire raced across concrete as a second incendiary device exploded in front of him.

People screamed and scrambled away, onto the grass, back toward the street.

Ramping into a run, Westvane jumped through the flames, skirted a statue of a lion, then leapt over a small pond. His feet touched down without making a sound. The scent he tracked grew stronger, then became sight and sound.

There. Off to one side, standing behind the man on stage leading the crowd. The Wendigo in all his beastly glory. Not that the humans around him could see it. The creature had taken human form, horns tucked away, feet in place of hooves, normal hands instead of paws and claws.

Westvane bared his teeth. His canines lengthened, becoming fangs as he located his prey and allowed the killer inside him out of its cage.

In full stride, he cut across a flowerbed.

He watched the Wendigo’s nostrils flare. Its head whipped in his direction. The beast’s eyes widened as it saw him. It took a step back, then another. Perception narrowed. Time slowed. Focus and aggression aligned.

His shoulder blades began to itch.

Relief burned through him. Satisfaction arrived hard on its heels.His wings.His wings were back, trying to punch through his back to reach open air. Westvane killed the urge to let the pair free, keeping them caged inside his skin. He didn’t need the distraction right now. And the drag of feathers in open air would only slow him down.

Eyes locked on his prey, Westvane launched himself over —

The Wendigo grabbed the male with the megaphone and, with a violent spin, threw him like a caber. The human careened off stage, hurtling toward Westvane. Tail tucked between his legs, the Wendigo ran in the opposite direction.

Dodging the human projectile, Westvane growled at Eastbrook. The raven shifted course above the heaving crowd, providing a more accurate view. The screen inside his mind changed its angle. Images of the protest flashed. Westvane zeroed in. Locked on, he tracked the Wendigo’s retreat, and shoving people aside, sprinted after it.

Rage swelled, rippling through him as he pursued the Wendigo out of the park. Talk about disappointing. He wanted to fight, not a prolonged chase.

He’d been dreaming about a knuckle-bruising brawl for days. Sinking his claws deep — ripping and tearing, watching blood flow — would soothe him. Settle him. Reset his internal compass so he could do what needed to be done. Now, all he had was a bird’s-eye view and the hope the Wendigo wasn’t as fast as it seemed. If it escaped him now, who knew where it would go, how much damage it would do… or how many humans would be killed.

* * *

Pedalingthe bike like a mad fool, Truly chased Westvane down Locust Street and up 23rd. She swerved around lamp posts, careened between cars, jumping curbs to avoid people on sidewalks. Her leg and arm muscles burned. Battling the discomfort, she fought to catch her breath, lamenting all the time she’d spent sitting on her ass inside her car taking pictures.

She needed get to the gym more. Pump some iron. Do more cardio. Join a kickboxing class or something. If she didn’t, and this kept up, Westvane would end up being the death of her. Though he might kill her first if she didn’t start covering more ground.

Pumping her knees, she tried to steady her breathing. Really. Her sedentary lifestyle needed to be thrown out the nearest window. Chasing an Assenta warrior around classified as an extreme sport. One requiring mastery in multiple disciplines.

A death grip on the handlebars, Truly soldiered on, lungs screaming, muscles burning, scrambling to keep up. Knowing where she was heading would’ve helped. She could have taken a couple of shortcuts, but as things stood now, she felt directionless. She sensed Westvane nearby. Could actually feel him somewhere — up there, ahead of her — but couldn’t quite get a lock on his location.

Sinking into the stream, she tapped into her magic. Her senses began to sizzle, but… no joy. The signal stayed muffled. Her mind’s eye remained blank, forcing her to track Westvane the old-fashioned way — with her eyes and ears. An impossible task. She needed more practice with her newfound abilities. Keeping up with an Assenta on the hunt required a lot more skill than she currently possessed.

Wheeling around a pile of debris, she stood on the pedals and looked around. Large intersection ahead, steel pole and signal lights scorched black and listing to one side. A car on fire, steel frame gutted sitting in the center lane, fewer people around.