Page 16 of To Hunt A Wolf
That’s the deal.
I don’t even let myself think about it. I just shift and point my beast’s nose into the wind.
It’s time to hunt a wolf.
ChapterFour
Ihunt for three days before I catch a scent. It’s long enough to fray my nerves over worrying about Kari. Twice, I retake my human form and find a phone, but the only number I know by heart is Kari’s, and no one ever answers it. Until I can get my hands on Levi, there’s nothing else I can do for Kari except keep going. Still, it shouldn’t take this long to find him. My tracking power is better than anyone else I know, besides my mother, which means Levi’s better at hiding than I gave him credit for.
Eventually, my hunting instincts win the battle and I catch a faint trace of him which sends me down the Blue Ridge into North Carolina. Lakeland, the sign says. Population a whopping 1402. The only bar in town, Quenched, has Levi’s scent all over it. From the outside, the place looks like a complete shithole, which only makes me more certain I’ve come to the right place. This place feels made for people who want to be forgotten.
Only problem is I can’t forget Levi. I’ve tried.
I wait for nightfall, using the hours in between to swipe clothes from a drying line in someone’s backyard and trade a couple of hours of dish duty for a meal at some hole-in-the-wall barbecue joint. One perk of small towns is their willingness to trade for goods and services.
I’m tempted to work for another hour in exchange for making a call, but there’s only one person left I know who’ll pick up. The idea of talking to my mother is one I eventually dismiss. Even if she could find out if Kari’s okay, I’m not sure she’d condone the deal I made. Vicki Quinn is all about looking out for number one; the exact opposite of what I’m doing by trying to save my friend.
In the end, I take the meal and forget the phone call.
By ten, Quenched is the place to be.
Its empty lot has filled with pickups and Harleys. I study the place from across the street, using my wolf senses to get a read on what I’ll find inside. The door opens as a gray-bearded guy exits, and music spills out behind him.
Country.
And not the techno-shit they play at Inferno.
This is the classic kind. Patsy Cline, George Jones, and even some Johnny Cash.
I sigh but then immediately stiffen as a sense of awareness slams into me. I feel him before I see him. When my eyes finally catch up, my breath catches. A dark figure crosses the lot. His scent slams into me with the force of all the feelings I’ve spent three years burying.
Levi.
My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe, so I glance away. My eyes narrow as I study the person beside him. The recognition brings with it more feelings I’d rather forget, but not in the same way Levi does. Tripp Thompson was my friend once—until he chose Levi over me. Still, the sight of him doesn’t make me want to saw my leg off rather than walk in there and face him.
I watch as they both disappear inside.
Then I blow out the breath I’ve been holding.
I count to ten, but by the time I’m done, I still can’t think of a reason not to do this.
All I can think of is Kari.
And Thiago.
And clearing my name.
So, in the end, even though I’d rather poke my eye with a sharp stick, I go inside.
The room is hazy, thanks to a cloud of cigarette smoke that’s probably been hanging here since Patsy Cline released her debut album. My eyes scan quickly, and my hands are twitchy with the possibility of punching something. Or someone.
The bar is nearly full. Older men with beer guts. Some in leather. Most wearing the insignia of whichever motorcycle club they belong to. And one sniff tells me they’re all human.
I relax at that.
Humans are easy.
Harmless.
