Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(73)

Revulsion crawled over her, but she tried.

Nothing. No sense of Renault, but the tug to the left stayed steady.

“Can he track you in return?” Alexei’s eyes glowed wild amber.

“Even if he can, he needs physical contact to take control, and I have shields now.” Amara was far stronger than Renault and, as of this week, Memory could rebuff her attempts at an unwilling transfer. “If I can hold off a 9.9, I should have no problems with an 8.7.” Renault might be a serial murderer, but that didn’t matter, not in this.

Memory also had no fear the past would paralyze her. If she’d fought back in the bunker, she sure as hell wasn’t going to stop now that she’d tasted freedom, fought with a golden wolf, and made friends who liked being with her.

Alexei closed his big, rough-skinned hand over hers. “I’ll tear out the bastard’s throat if he tries to lay a finger on you.” A growling promise that reminded her she was no longer alone in the dark. “Emmett, you’ll keep watch here?”

Memory barely heard the short interaction. Anchored by Alexei’s primal warmth, her brain crystal clear, she pointed down the street. “He’s somewhere in that direction.”

“Jeep or on foot?”

Memory squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to gauge the distance between her and the man she hunted without success. She fell back on her instincts. “On foot. I may lose the trail in a car.” With that, she began to run, her sneakered feet hitting the asphalt in a rapid rhythm. Beside her ran a wolf in human form whose wildness was a protective shield around her as the people on the street scrambled out of their way.

She flinched, thinking she must’ve begun to stink of Renault, but quickly realized the pedestrians’ startled faces betrayed no disgust, nothing but wide-eyed curiosity. It was Alexei. Of course it was Alexei. A predatory changeling on the hunt was no unknown to these people, even if they had to be more familiar with the cats. It was clear they recognized Alexei’s changeling nature despite the fact he hadn’t shifted form.

Pain stabbed her side, but Memory blanked out the stitch and ran on. She’d asked Yuri to suggest extra exercises she could use to increase her physical fitness, her development too slow under the lightweight plan worked out by the physiotherapist who’d seen her a few days into her stay at the compound.

Agreeing with Memory that she was strong enough to bear more, Yuri had created an entire exercise plan just for her. Her heart hurt at the thought of her friend, but she focused on the gift he’d given her—she was far stronger than when she’d first left the bunker.

A low deep beat began to vibrate up her body with each footfall. Her heart, pounding so hard that it felt like thunder. No. There were sounds to go along with the beat. A drum. And people. So many people that it was a gentle roar.

Alexei bit out a curse. “I forgot—Chinese New Year celebrations got postponed to this week because of the weather, and we’re heading right into Chinatown.”

Memory didn’t stop. “We can’t go any other way. He’s close.” The signal had grown in strength. Yes, that was the better analogy—not a thread tying them together, but a signal for which she had the frequency.

Never while imprisoned could she have imagined that she would one day run headlong into a smiling mass of people while glowing lanterns swayed overhead and in the street wove a dragon created by many performers weaving and swaying the creature’s colorful body.

Enticing smells filled the air. Color burst to life around every corner. Images of rabbits abounded on the lanterns, on key chains hanging from a stall doing a brisk business, and even on the walls of the buildings. Many were projected with light, others stenciled in bright colors.

At any other time, Memory would’ve stood in place and gotten drunk on the mass of sensation, but today she wanted the entire crowd to disappear, her mind repeating the name, Vashti, over and over again as her lungs pumped frantically.

The revelers got out of the way as soon as they spotted Alexei, but there were just too many people on the streets for them to move fast, and Memory’s body kept being jostled by accident.

Growling after another bump, Alexei took the lead, his hand clamped around hers. “Squeeze my hand when we need to change direction.” He began to push his way through the crowd, while keeping Memory protected behind the hard muscle of his body.

Suddenly they were moving. Paper parasols danced over her head as the attendees lifted them high to allow her and Alexei to pass. At one point, the two of them wove between what appeared to be a dance troupe, the team dressed in khaki pants and blousy shirts tied at the waist by thick swathes of colorful fabric.

The dancers also had gold in their hair, the foil applied in the pattern of a rabbit.

A male dancer jumped out of the way when he saw Alexei and bumped into a muscular woman who yelled at him in a language Memory didn’t recognize. The festival goers were of every color and size and shape.

She made out her own people—almost always in the far back of the crowd, but very much present in this chaotic environment that had nothing to do with Silence. A number of changelings and humans went to call hello to Alexei, but most swallowed their cries half-spoken the instant they caught the urgent look on his face.

Others shouted offers of assistance, but Alexei shook his head. The two of them were going too fast, their task too urgent to stop and explain things. But Memory worried. Renault had always worked alone, but he was a telekinetic. If he still had a reserve of energy, he could throw Alexei a great distance.