Kelley Armstrong - Otherworld Chills

“Think he heard us coming?”

The kneeling guy, who seemed to be the leader, touched the blood trail. “Nah. It’s dry.”

“She’s different, too.” That was the third guy, his hair so short he might have been bald. “That’s no hobo. Are we sure it’s our target’s handiwork?”

“No,” the leader said. “It’s some random dude who just happened to slit her throat in the same building where two people had their throats ripped out by our target. Of course it’s him. We have two kinds of victims—those who won’t be missed and pretty women.” The guy rose. “Okay, let’s fan out. See if this bastard left any clues.”

This was, one could argue, the point at which Nick should get the hell out of Dodge. He was a werewolf, and these guys were looking for a werewolf. Bounty hunters of some type, he guessed, on Malcolm’s trail. That was the trap. Let Tina die slowly, knowing these guys were coming. Either they’d find her alive and slow down to help—or, if her handler had dispatched backup, the arrival of three armed bounty hunters would throw a wrench into the works. Either way, it let Malcolm slip off scot-free.

So Nick should go after Malcolm. And he did. He followed the trail out of the building, over two blocks, where it disappeared at the roadside, meaning Malcolm had hopped into a car and escaped. There was no tracking him after that.

“I want to know who those guys are,” he said to Vanessa as they walked. “If they’ve separated, I can grab one. Question him.”

“That’s what I’d suggest,” she said. “Except for the part where you question him.”

As the leader said, they’d split up. Vanessa left Nick in charge of tracking. He knew which one he wanted. The bald guy. More brawn than brains. He’d fight the hardest, but he’d break first, too. That’s what Clay always said, which is why, in a fight, he often left the biggest guy to Nick.

Now Nick was tracking his target, with Vanessa as backup. It didn’t take long before he could hear the guy, who made no effort to hide his footfalls. Soon she could hear their target, too, in the parallel hall. They continued on to the next adjoining corridor. Nick veered off to intercept as Vanessa carried on.

Nick came out behind the guy. He moved cautiously, rolling his footfalls, and closed the gap until he was a few feet behind his target. Then he slowed and listened. After a moment, he heard Vanessa’s footsteps. A few seconds later, the guy heard them, too.

The guy stopped. Nick halted behind him, barely breathing. The target raised his gun and dropped his free hand to his side, brushing his radio. He must know he should notify his team, but he couldn’t bring himself to call in backup. Straightening, he strode forward just as Vanessa turned the corner in front of him. Surprised, the man stopped short.

That’s when Nick lunged. His pounce was silent, he was sure of that. But the guy must have sensed something behind him. He spun, gun rising. Nick slammed a fist into the side of his head. The guy flew off his feet and hit the ground.

“Nice,” Vanessa murmured as she knelt, confirming the man was out cold.

He let Vanessa bind the man’s hands with plastic cuffs, blindfold and gag him, and then Nick loaded the limp body over his shoulder and carried him out of the building.

Nick hauled the bounty hunter into the equally empty building next door. By the time they found a room, the man was kicking and grunting against his gag. Nick dumped him on the filthy floor.

Vanessa warned the man that she was going to remove his gag and there was no sense calling for help—lying that they’d taken him far from his companions. The moment the gag came off, though, he started to yell. Vanessa pistol-whipped him in the exact spot where Nick had punched him and Nick yanked the gag back into place.

Vanessa repeated the warning. This time, the man seemed to decide he ought to listen, maybe because he now realized Vanessa wasn’t alone.

“Who’s your partner?” he said, whipping his head about as if he could peer through the blindfold.

“An associate.”

“I saw him when he clocked me. I’ve seen him before, too.”

Nick tensed.

“And where have you seen him?” she asked.

“I dunno. But I got a look at him right before he decked me.”

“Describe him, then.”

The guy stammered and blustered, saying Nick had dark hair and he was a “really big guy.” Nick had to smile at the second part. Obviously, that line drive to the head had colored the man’s recollection.

Nick let her handle the questioning. He had some knowledge of interrogation techniques. Well, the kind Clay used, at least, which usually involved his fists. Clay would prefer something more intellectual—the guy was a PhD, after all—but as he’d said many times, that wasn’t the language mutts spoke.

It was different with this guy. Vanessa used the classic good-cop routine, claiming she was only doing her job, regretted it even, and sounded as if she genuinely did.

“Look, I overheard you guys in there,” she said. “You’re hunting a werewolf. I have no issue with that. Filthy, murdering scum. Did you see what one of those bastards did to my colleague?”

It took a moment for him to realize she meant Tina. “She was with you?”

“Yes. I have a feeling you and I are after the same guy. But you aren’t authorized to take him out. I checked with my superiors. There’s no record of an alternate license being issued.”

“License …?”

“For hunting werewolves.”

“Since when do we need a license?”

“Since when don’t you? The Cabals regulate the hunting of all werewolves and vampires. And if you pretend you don’t know what a Cabal is …”

“Of course I do. But I don’t know nothing about them regulating werewolf hunting.”

“Then I’d suggest you look into it, because if you’re caught? The penalty is stiff, as you might imagine.”

He paled.

Nick mouthed a question to Vanessa, who nodded.

“So that’s what you’re doing, then,” she said. “Hunting vermin? Or is it a bounty?”

“Both.”

“Hunting vermin for a bounty? Or just this particular werewolf?”

The man shrugged. “Any werewolf would do. The guy just wants them exterminated, and he’s willing to pay to see it happen. Win-win.”

“Exterminated?” Vanessa said.

“Well, controlled. You can’t just wipe them out, right? Not that I’d argue if you could. World would be a better place without those brutes.”

Nick tried not to react. This was something he couldn’t get used to. When he was growing up, the Pack had kept itself separate from the greater supernatural world, so he’d never had cause to wonder what others thought of them. Then the Pack rejoined the interracial council, and he’d found out exactly what they thought.

“So someone’s putting out bounties on werewolves,” Vanessa said. “Besides general cleanup, what’s his motivation?”

The guy’s face screwed up in confusion. “Motivation?”

“Did this guy lose someone to a werewolf?”

“Not that I know of. He just doesn’t like them. He considers it his … what’s it called? Civic duty. As a supernatural.”

Nick mouthed another question.

“Let me step back, then,” Vanessa said. “Do you know who you’re hunting?”

“It’s not a who. It’s a what. Werewolves aren’t human. You can’t think of them that way.”

Nick rocked on the balls of his feet.

“Let’s pretend it’s a who,” Vanessa said. “For simplicity’s sake. Do you know the identity of the one you’re hunting now?”

A pause. A long one. Then, “Pete does.”