Page 32 of The Wolfing Hour

I slipped two of the chains over Gladys’s head, pressing the charms against an uninjured section of skin. She didn’t wake up, but she appeared to relax slightly. I wished I’d had the foresight to have Cecil create ahealcharm keyed to her specifically, but I hadn’t thought a fast-healing wolf would need it. Still, my general-use charm would help.

The charm I handed to Idawaskeyed to her and would heal minor wounds quickly. I kept it handy for when she took crazy chances, like the time she attempted to fix the electrical outlet in her bathroom herself, and last year, when she tried hanging her own Christmas lights.

She sighed in obvious relief. “That’s better.”

“Where are the wolves?” I asked in a voice too steady given the anger boiling through me.

Ronan continued to gnaw at Gladys’s wound, and I had no idea what to do about it. Ida was hurt. Gladys was dying. Ida was hurt.Hurt.Dying.Hurt. I was losing myself, my sanity. My brain was simultaneously sluggish and racing at breakneck speeds.

“Gone,” Ida replied. “They did what they came to do and left. The target was Gladys, not me. I just got in the way at the end. Wish I’d been here when it happened. I’d have?—”

“Was it Floyd?” This time my voice wasn’t only steady, it was deeper. There was a quality to it I didn’t recognize. A cold darkness.

Ronan froze. His tail stiffened, ears flattened, hackles rose.

Fennel’s fur spiked all over. He growled, low and mean.

“I don’t—Betty?” Ida eyed me the way prey watches a predator. “It’s okay. I’m all right. Gladys is the one—” Her voice broke on a sob.

She was all right. Sure.

“Who was it?” Now my voice sounded like a song played at half speed.

“Two wolves. Alphas. I don’t know their names.” She held out her hands, palms up. They were stained with Gladys’s blood. “Betty, take a breath, okay? You don’t look so good.”

“Benny Tortuga and Shawn Krane,” a voice said from behind me. It was the small woman from the locker. With her were three other terrified seniors.

Another woman spoke up. “I’ve seen them at Alpha Pallás’s bar. I think they work security there.”

What a fucking coincidence.

“Godsdamn him.” I spun around and headed out of the locker room.

The women drew back, terror scrawled across their faces.

The second woman who’d spoken ducked her head and asked, “Whatareyou?”

“That’s Betty Lennox,” the first woman said. “She’s a witch—one of the good ones.”

I had one foot through the doorway when the second woman said, “She looks more like a devil.”

Cecil resumed his incessant chittering in my ear the second I threw myself into the Mini. Ignoring him, I dialed Margaux Ramirez on my cell. “Get to the senior center as fast as you can. Gladys Jiménez was attacked by Pallás wolves. Silver injury. Ronan is with her.”

“Betty? What’s wrong with your voice?”

“Leave now and break every speed limit to get there. It’s bad.” I ended the call and tossed the phone in my cupholder, started the car, and flipped an illegal U-turn.

Cecil crawled down my arm and clipped himself into the car seat, grumbling all the way.

“I am angry,” I said.

He peered up at me, purple hat twitching.

“Cecil, there’s a reason I didn’t leave you back there with Fennel.”

The tip of his nose twitched.

“I’m going to make Floyd and his two henchmen pay. It will be messy.”