20

IT GOT DARK enough that Edward and Tilford turned on the flashlights that were attached to the barrels of their M4s. It was a mixed blessing. It allowed us to follow the blood trail but ruined our night vision. I finally kept my gaze away from the lights. One of us needed to be able to see what the deepening shadows might hold. Following the blood trail was important, but if the Harlequin that were bleeding found us first, there’d be more blood, and some of it would likely be ours. Was that pessimistic, or realistic? I had trouble telling sometimes.

Newman followed me ahead into the creeping gloom. “Do you see something?”

“Not yet.”

“Saving your night vision from the lights?”

That made me glance at him. “Yes, how’d you know?”

“I was raised in the country. I’m okay in the dark most nights.”

“Me, too,” I said.

“Country girl?”

“Something like that.”

“I’d have pegged you for a city girl,” he said. All the time we talked we looked out into the coming dark, searching the trees for movement. He had his gun at his shoulder just like I did. I was beginning to like Newman and I didn’t want to, because I’d liked Karlton and now she was in the hospital breathing with help. The shapeshifter had collapsed one of her lungs. They were waiting to see if her body would heal it without operating. If she had caught some version of lycanthropy then she’d heal as good as new, so they waited. The waiting meant they thought her blood tests were going to come back contaminated with the virus. With deep puncture wounds, lycanthropy was usually a given.

“I’m a city girl now,” I said.

Edward came to us, the light pointed at the ground, and finally turned it off before he got to us. Even that much light for that small an amount of time seemed to make the thick twilight thicker.

One look at his face and I asked, “What’s wrong?”

“The blood pattern has changed. One of them is carrying the other, and he’s running with him. He’s been running through the woods while we crawled after them; that’s why we haven’t heard them.”

“They’re gone,” I said.

“Good as,” he said, and there was still enough light for me to see how disgusted he was with it all.

“If we can’t trail them, then Tilford is right—we need to get out of here before full dark.”

“We don’t have enough people to move the truck, Anita.”

“We can move the tree,” I said, “and we can all fit in our SUV.”

He nodded. “Done.”

Tilford didn’t argue, and Newman didn’t try to argue with the three of us. He was learning. If we could keep him alive, maybe he’d actually be good at the job.

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