The Better to Bite (Howl #1)(33)

Valerie came back. She must have known Sissy because she was one of the girls with the red-rimmed eyes.

I didn’t cry. I know I should have, but when I thought of Sissy, I just felt kind of hollow.

And guilty.

I’d felt guilty before, when I arrived too late to help Caitlin. What was the point of me having this gift (AKA curse) if I couldn’t actually help anyone? Finding dead bodies wasn’t my idea of helping anyone.

Sissy Hamilton hadn’t even made it to her sixteenth birthday. She’d deserved to live.

Just as Caitlin had.

With Sissy…I just couldn’t shake the feeling that her death was my fault. That wolf had gone running from me…to her.

It had to be the same wolf, right? I mean just how many crazy wolves could be running free out there in the woods of Haven?

A day after we found Sissy, my dad recovered the remains of another hiker. Only with this one, the ME noticed the deep scratches on the bones. Scratches that had come from claw marks.

The ME, a guy my dad called Donovan, hadn’t been especially surprised by the marks. He’d said there were plenty of hungry animals stalking the woods.

But I didn’t think we were dealing with just any animal.

The wolf was making a habit of killing in Haven’s woods.

When I left school that day, I took the bus home. Rafe hadn’t exactly been appearing with an offer of a ride lately, so I was stuck with bus duty whether I liked it or not. I went home, I did my homework, then I stared at the woods until darkness fell.

I stared and I stared.

Then I heard the gunshots.

My blood iced even as I leapt to my feet. The blasts came again, thundering, echoing through the woods. I grabbed the wooden railing on the porch and strained to see through the dark.

An engine growled. My head whipped to the right, and I saw my dad’s car racing toward the house. Dust and gravel flew in his wake. The car shuddered to a stop, and he leapt out in the next instant.

“Get inside, Anna!” His roar. My dad did that—when he was scared, he tended to sound like a bear.

I inched back a few steps. “Dad, what’s going on?” Some hunters, that’s all. South Carolina had to be full of hunters, and just because I didn’t know when the hunting seasons started and ended—

“Mark Hamilton and a bunch of his friends are after the wolf.”

Mark Hamilton. Sissy’s dad.

“They’re drunk, baby, and I got a tip that they’re out shooting up the woods.”

Cause drinking and guns always mixed.

“Rafe’s dad—”

Ah, I guess that had been his tipster.

“—he said they’re tracking down from the Hamilton house. Damn fools. If they aren’t careful, they’ll wind up shooting somebody.”

I was in front of our door. My bare toes curled over the wooden porch.

He exhaled on a rough, frustrated sigh. “Stray bullets can hit anywhere. They know better.” He stepped closer to the porch and the light hit him.

I realized my dad had on a bright orange vest—and he was carrying a rifle.

“Go inside, now, and don’t come out until I come back.”

Wait. Hold up. “You’re not just going in the woods?” I asked him, heart racing. “Dad, they could shoot you!”

“And I’ve got to stop them before they hurt someone else!”

I grabbed the door knob. “You’re going in alone?” Bad, bad plan. Dad knew how important it was to always have back up close by.

A four-wheeler burst from the woods then. Deputy Jon Parker bent low over the handlebars, and his handsome face was locked in lines of tension. Jon was only a few years older than me, but from what I’d overheard before, I knew my dad thought the guy was the best deputy in the department. For my dad’s sake, I hoped he was right.

I noticed that Jon had on an orange vest, too.

“No,” my Dad said, “I’m not going in alone. I’ve got my deputies scouring those woods for them.”

Deputy Jon inclined his head toward me.

I eased inside the house. “Be careful!”

But he was already gone.

And I could hear the retort of gunfire.

Gunfire…and the howl of wolves.

I hurried inside and slammed the door shut behind me.

***

A long, mournful wail jerked my attention from the Trig book on the kitchen table. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t into Trig right then. I kept peeking out the window and hoping to see some sign of my dad.

So far…nothing.

The howl had me rising and creeping once more to the window. I pulled back the curtain and peered outside. I didn’t see anything.

I turned away.

Seconds later, something slammed into the front door, and I gasped.

Hard, heavy. The whole house seemed to shake with the impact.

Very, very slowly, I turned back around.

Once more, I looked outside, but I couldn’t see anything. From this angle, I wouldn’t be able to see what was on the other side of that door.

I crept toward the door and risked a fast glance out of the peephole.

Nothing.

But…

I could hear a faint scratching. Like nails, digging into the wood.

I jumped back, then I turned and ran as fast as I could for the closet in my dad’s room.