Page 51 of A Malicious Menagerie (Fangs & Fables #1)

The Breakdown

A s the miles tick by, I start to relax. Nan is settled. Chase is in good spirits. We’re making excellent progress. Everything is going smoothly.

…And the minute I have that thought, the universe decides to throw us a curveball. Jinx .

We’re on a deserted two-lane highway in Montana when white steam starts leaking from under the car’s hood with an ominous hiss . “Shit,” Chase grits out as he guides the failing Cherokee onto the shoulder.

“Language,” Nan chides him from the passenger seat.

“Sorry,” he says distractedly. Once the car is safely stopped, he glances back at me. “Know anything about cars?”

“You’re lucky I even know how to drive one,” I reply wryly.

Mom had gotten it in her head that she needed to teach me before she died.

I have vivid memories of her instructing me from the passenger seat of her creaky old Toyota with a scarf covering the hair loss from the chemo.

The car died not long after she did, and losing that place where I felt close to her made me mourn her loss all over again.

Chase sighs. “Yeah, putting gas in the tank is about as technical as I get. We’re going to need to get it towed.”

I glance doubtfully out the window at the dense forest of evergreens stretching as far as the eye can see. I think we’ve seen maybe two cars in the past hour. “How are we going to do that?”

“We’re going to have to look for a town. Find a phone.”

As Chase tugs a map from beside the seat, I think wistfully of Old Reliable, lost somewhere in the menagerie. Not that I would have felt comfortable bringing the phone with me. If television has taught me anything, it’s that cell phones can be tracked.

“There’s a town about ten miles up the road.”

Ugh . The thought of pushing Nan’s wheelchair ten miles, even with Chase’s help, feels impossible. “Is there a mechanic?”

“No idea, but we’ll at least be able to call one.” Chase glances at Nan, and I know his thoughts have gone to a similar place to mine. “Or I will, anyway. You two should stay here. I’ll be quicker as a wolf anyway.”

“What if you’re seen?” I ask anxiously, not happy about splitting up even as I know it’s the better plan.

“I’ll travel through the woods. Don’t worry, I can be sneaky.” He shoots me a reassuring grin.

“You were the one who told me you don’t have a subtle bone in your body,” I remind him dryly.

“Subtle, no. Sneaky, sure.” He’s already pushing open the door, and I quickly follow to join him beside the car, my breath fogging in the November chill. The air smells of pine and an oddly sweet engine fume. I look toward the car’s steaming engine worriedly. “Do you think it’ll catch on fire?”

“It’s steam, not smoke,” Chase points out, but he doesn’t sound very confident. “Maybe you and Darla wait in the trees? It’s cold, though.”

“It’s going to get cold in the car without the engine running anyway,” I point out. “We’ll bundle up.”

With our plan set, I help Nan out of the car and into her chair while Chase strips and ties his clothes in a bundle around his neck. “You mean, you’re not planning to walk around town naked?” I tease him.

“Humans have these weird hangups about nudity,” he huffs with a playful smirk. “Figured people might be more likely to let me use their phone if I’m clothed.”

“Most women, and probably some men, would disagree with you.” Despite my worry, I wink before leaning up to kiss him, savoring the warmth of his lips before pulling away. “Be safe, alright?”

“You, too.” Then, he grins. “Be good.”

“How long have you been waiting to turn that on me?”

“Way too long.” As if he can’t help himself, he leans down for one last kiss before reluctantly backing away. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises as he lets the shift have him.

I watch him slip between the trees, dark and silent as a shadow, and take comfort in his stealth. Then, I turn to Nan with a reassuring smile. “Let’s get away from the car, okay?”

Nan is silent as I toss an extra blanket over her shoulders and tug a gas station beanie over her white hair. She’d look almost comical if her face weren’t drawn and wan. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her gently.

“I know,” she agrees, reaching out to pat my arm. “I trust you and your wolf.”

My heart warms at her words. “Thanks, Nan.”

I grab the handles of Nan’s chair, ready to move, when something occurs to me. “I just have to grab something,” I tell her before returning to the car.

My fingers hesitate on the glove compartment before I finally force myself to pop it open.

Inside, the gun I pilfered from Mathis’s henchman back at Sunny Shores glints sharply in the low light.

I’ve been taking it out of the car when we stop at motels for the night, worried someone might break into the car and steal it, but this would be my first time carrying it with me purposefully.

Still, this is why I took it. Despite my discomfort, I gingerly take it, double-check the safety is on, and tuck it in the back of my waistband like in all the action movies I’ve ever seen. The cold metal burns my skin as I make my way back to Nan and give her a bland smile. “Alright. Let’s go.”

It’s hard to roll Nan’s wheelchair off the asphalt and into the bed of pine needles between the dark green conifers. We settle in for a wait, shooting concerned looks at the car in between chatting quietly and rubbing warmth back into our arms.

We’ve been waiting maybe twenty minutes when a black SUV rolls up beside our car and stops.

The windows are tinted, making it impossible to tell anything about the driver or any passengers.

“Maybe they want to help,” Nan suggests, perking up out of her nest of blankets.

She raises a hand as if to call out, but I quickly grab her wrist to lower it gently to her lap.

“Let’s just watch for a minute,” I whisper, a feeling of foreboding coming over me.

Maybe it’s nothing, just a nice soccer mom wanting to see if we need help.

But if it’s someone with more sinister intentions, I’ll be glad for my paranoia.

We’re partially hidden by a tree, but I pull Nan more firmly behind the trunk as I watch the SUV.

It doesn’t take long for the car doors to open, all but the driver’s door.

It soon becomes apparent that the passengers are not kids in cleats and grass-stained uniforms. All three men are dressed in black with guns holstered at their shoulders.

They look like the same cookie cutter created them—severe expressions, short hair, prodigious muscles.

In almost perfect synchrony, they unholster their handguns and advance on the car. With the old Cherokee surrounded, they begin yanking doors open before gun muzzles come up to threaten the empty interior.

“Not here to help,” I whisper, almost unable to hear my words over the pounding of my heart. When I grasp the handles of Nan’s chair again, my sweaty hands slide over the rubber. “We’ve gotta move.”

If I thought wheeling Nan this far into the trees was difficult, fleeing madly into the woods with the unwieldy contraption is even worse.

Speed and stealth are at odds as I dodge tree trunks and pray my way through some spaces that don’t look like they should fit the chair.

Nan’s knuckles are blanched as she holds tight to the arms, her weak right hand continuously slipping.

I keep thinking I hear sounds of pursuit, and I don’t know if it’s in my head or not. All I can do is keep going.

After traveling the longest half mile of my life, I find a rocky outcropping with an overhang. I gratefully duck under and pull Nan’s chair after me. The space is tight and smells of animal musk, but at least it’s hidden.

Or is it? “How did they find us?” I huff between panting breaths. “We ditched the Lexus. They might have guessed we were heading toward Denali, but we’ve been taking back roads. How did they catch up now? ”

“I don’t know,” Nan replies, her voice shaky.

As I catch my breath, I mull it over. The only things we’ve kept since the start of this journey are our clothes.

Did Mathis’s men break into my house and put trackers in my clothes?

Without me noticing? As I pat my coat, looking for a telltale shape under the fabric, my gaze slides to Nan. To her wheelchair.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, instantly dropping to my knees in the hard dirt.

“Anna, language!” Nan scolds mechanically, the reflex so ingrained that she just can’t help herself.

Chase and I must be rubbing off on each other.

“What are you doing?” Nan adds as I flip onto my back to look under her wheelchair.

I’m too busy concentrating to answer. I run my hands over every inch of the underside of the chair before I find what I’m looking for.

“Son of a bitch ,” I repeat as I sit up, holding the small, black tracking device aloft. This time, Nan doesn’t correct me on my cursing. She’s too busy gaping at the tracker in horror.

“It was me,” she says softly, her face crumpling.

“No, Nan, it was them,” I reply hotly, squeezing the device in my hand as if I might crush it. Then, I relax my grip and regard the tracker thoughtfully. “Maybe this can help us.”

“How?”

“I lead them away from you, then double back. While they’re searching, we’ll start walking until Chase finds us.”

“No, Anna,” Nan exclaims, reaching out to grab feebly at my sleeve as if she can forcibly keep me with her. “It’s too dangerous.”

“So is staying here like sitting ducks,” I rebut. Leaning in, I take her hands and give her cold fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be careful.”

“No—”

“I have to go, now,” I interrupt. “Before they track us here.”

Nan just stares at me, her eyes moving over my features as if she’s memorizing them. “You’d better come back to me, young lady.”

I manage a weak smile. “Always, Nan.”