“What?”
“Cabin twelve. That’s where my dad keeps the weapons. The lock on the door is kid’s play to jimmy open.”
I didn’t ask how Lake knew this, and I didn’t question the fact that Mr. Mitchell had an entire cabin full of weapons. Under normal circumstances, I would have, because—Lake’s fondness for shotguns aside—werewolves didn’t need weapons. They were weapons. But thinking back to the look on Mitch’s face when he’d told me, all calmlike, that male werewolves could get funny around females, I wasn’t surprised.
Against humans, werewolves didn’t need weapons. Against other werewolves, being armed to the hilt might come in handy, at least in human form.
“Okay,” I said. “So you’ll take care of the weapons situation. Now we need to know where we’re going and we need a way to get there.”
I kept coming up with small problems, like transportation, because no matter how many times I turned it over in my mind, I couldn’t come up with a solution to the bigger one: we didn’t know where the Rabid was. We’d have only a few hours’ head start once we left here, before Ali and Mitch figured out that we’d gone. We couldn’t afford to wander around aimlessly. We couldn’t act on some unformed hunch.
We had to be sure.
“Transportation is easy,” Lake said when I brought up the issue. “My dad got a new car, but he hasn’t gotten rid of his truck yet. We’ll take that.”
“Can you drive?” I asked. I wasn’t sixteen yet, and though I’d managed fine with all stolen motorcycles I’d come in contact with, I wasn’t sure I could handle a stick shift.
“Bryn, I live in the country in the middle of nowhere. The school’s thirty miles away. My daddy’s had me driving since I was twelve.”
I followed her words enough to know that transportation wouldn’t be a problem, but beyond that, all I could think about was the Rabid.
Madison.
“You look like you have an idea,” Lake said.
“I might,” I replied. Everything we’d discovered about the Rabid so far, we’d discovered because the last time he’d come after Chase’s dreams, Chase and I had seen a glimpse into his mind. Marks, bonds, connections—they went both ways. The only reason the Rabid stalked Chase’s dreams was because Chase was blocking him when he was awake.
But what if that stopped?
What if Chase opened up the bond with the Rabid, just enough to get inside his head? Just enough to tell us where he was?
“Bryn? Idea?”
“I have one,” I said, “but Chase isn’t going to like it.”
Chase was in human form when I found him, but I could till taste the faint tang of blood on his tongue from the hunt.
Chase?
I didn’t come completely into his mind. I pulled myself back from his senses and concentrated on keeping my own.
Bryn?
Just thinking my name seemed to calm him, remind him that he was human, even when he was wondering at what point along the line he’d become a beast.
You went hunting, I said. Plenty of men do the same.
Of course, most men hunted with guns instead of their teeth, but that wasn’t what Chase needed to hear, so I left it unsaid. Instead, I concentrated on the thing that had sent Chase into hunting mode in the first place.
We’re going to kill the Rabid, I told him, my voice steady and calm. I promise you, he’s going to die.
For a moment there was silence on Chase’s end of the bond, and then he spoke again, his words broken, like he couldn’t remember quite how to put them together into thoughts. Prancer—want—dead—protect.
We’re going to kill him, Chase. Lake and I are gathering up some weapons. If we shoot from far enough away, he might not even hear us coming. He’ll think he’s safe because the alphas aren’t coming after him. He won’t be expecting us.
Another pause, and this time, when Chase spoke, his words made perfect sense. I’m tired of fighting him.
I thought of what I was about to ask Chase to do and blanched. We need to find him, I said slowly. And the only way to do that is to get inside his head.
I didn’t say the next part, couldn’t make myself spell out the fact that the only way for me to get into the Rabid’s head was for Chase to let him into his.
I won’t let anything happen to you, I swore. We just need a few seconds. Just long enough to figure out where he is.
He’ll want me to hurt you, Chase replied, his voice weary, even in my mind. He always does.
I thought of Chase slamming his wolf body into the cage in Callum’s basement, because to him, I smelled like food. I thought of his body trembling as the smell of a foreign wolf flooded Callum’s living room and of the way Sora’s first instinct had been to get me out of there.
You wouldn’t hurt me, I told him. You’d die before you’d hurt me.
Asking him to do this was killing me. It wasn’t fair. I felt like Callum, treating Chase like a detail that didn’t matter as much as the big picture. But as much as I wished I could do this myself, I wasn’t the one with the connection to the Rabid. I wasn’t the one who could track him.
Chase was.
You have to promise to get out of my head, Chase said. If Prancer takes over, if I can’t fight him off…you have to leave. I won’t let him get to you, too.
I didn’t promise, because I had no intention of abandoning ship the moment things turned sour, not when I was the one asking Chase to put himself at risk.
I won’t let him take you, I said, pushing the words into Chase’s head with a ferocity that he must have been able to feel from head to toe. You’re mine.
For a moment, there was a pause, and then Chase’s voice went very dry in my mind. In a non-freaky, non-ownership, we-both-retain-our-independence kind of way? I could practically see his lips curving upward into a subtle grin.
Yes, I replied hastily. Exactly.
Okay.
Okay? I asked him.
Okay, he repeated. I’ll do this.—Don’t leave me.—
He didn’t mean for me to hear that last part, but the second I did, I let down some of my own guards, brought myself further into his mind, telling him over and over again, in every way I knew, that he wasn’t alone.
He breathed in.
I breathed in.
He breathed out.
I breathed out.
And then, Chase let in the flood. I should have been prepared. I knew more about closing off and opening up bonds than just about anyone, but still, the rush of scent and the oily feel of a snake slithering down the back of Chase’s neck took me by surprise. His scars, each and every one, began to burn, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.