Page 80 of A Malicious Menagerie
On any other night, that might have made me laugh. Now, all I do is perch on the bed to help her sit. “Change of plans. We have to go a day early. I’m here to break you out.”
She looks disoriented, and I don’t blame her. “Oh, but… Did something happen? Are we in trouble?”
“No more than before.” A lie, but I force a calmness I don’t feel as I continue, “But I need you to come with me. Tonight. Now. Can you do that?”
“To Alaska?” she asks in a small voice.
“To Alaska.”
“With your friend Chase?”
“Maybe a bit more than a friend.”
Her world may be falling apart, but Nan’s eyes sharpen, her gaze locking onto me with laser focus. The crisis can wait, but my love life, apparently, cannot. “Oh?”
“You’ll meet him soon,” I promise her. “And I’ll tell you all about it. Abouteverything. But I need you to trust me. Will you come with me?”
Nan blinks slowly before turning to peer around her small bedroom. Her home for nearly three years, but now, with Mathis’s threats looming over her, a prison in its own right. “I don’t know, Anna.” Her voice trembles as she turns her worried blue gaze to me. “Maybe I’m too old for this kind of adventure. Scratch that. IknowI’m too old for this kind of adventure. I’ll slow you down. Maybe you should go without me.”
This woman. If loyalty and stubbornness are genetic, then I come by mine honestly. “I’m not going without you,” I answer firmly. “So. Are you coming? Or should I sit here until I get caught?”
Nan’s lips purse disapprovingly. “That’s manipulative, Anna GraceCarmichael.”
“It’s just honest. You always did emphasize honesty as a virtue.”
“Twisting my words,” Nan mutters under her breath. Finally, she sighs, and her shoulders slump. “Fine. Yes, Anna. I will go with you.”
“Thank you,” I sigh, relief loosening my tension by a fraction of a degree.
Throwing Nan’s necessities into the suitcase in her closet and getting her into her housecoat and slippers takes longer than I’d like. Finally, I have her seated comfortably in her wheelchair with her suitcase secured to the back. “Ready?” I ask quietly.
“As I’ll ever be,” Nan replies, her tone grim.
Still, despite her reservations—and my own—I can’t help but feel optimistic. We’re really doing this. We’re moments away from being free.
That feeling dries up quicker than a puddle in the dead heat of summer when I open Nan’s door to find myself staring down the barrel of a gun. Twice in one night. I’m either doing something very right or something very wrong.
“Don’t move,” the scowling bald man barks.
“Where’s Chase?” I demand, fear for him eclipsing my fear of the gun pointed between my eyes.
“The wolf? Giving Leonard a run for his money,” the man replies with a huff that I would almost call a laugh if not for the flinty look in his eyes. “But I figured you out. A werewolf shows up here just a few weeks after its caretaker tries to take her old granny home? You don’t need to be a rocket scientist.” The man takes one hand off the gun to motion for me to come to him. “Let’s go. I think Mathis will be interested to hear about your late-night visit.”
“I doubt Mathis will be interested in much of anything ever again,” I reply venomously.
My response gives him pause, and I can see the wheels turning as he puzzles over my meaning. “What are you—”
Before he can finish the question, he jerks his gaze and gun to his right. It’s too late. A black blur collides with his chest. The gun fires as Chase takes the man to the ground, the shot going wide.
Nan cries out behind me, but I’m too busy lunging for the door to comforther. “Chase!” I blurt. I swing around the door frame, but he’s already shaking the blood from his muzzle, his second kill of the night sprawled in a heap at his feet.
A couple of doors farther up the hallway creak open before shocked gasps are followed by the sound of those same doors slamming shut. I grimace. How did my life come to this? Leaving a trail of dead bodies in my wake. Refocusing on Chase, I ask, “Are you okay?”
Chase gives a heavy huff and quick tail wag in the affirmative. Still, he stays in his lupine form, his watchful gaze scanning the corridor. Turning back to Nan, I force down guilt at the look of terror on her face. “We have to go.”
“He’s… a wolf,” Nan notes faintly, her hand fluttering over her chest like a proper lady fighting a swoon.
“He’s Chase,” I reply simply, ducking behind her wheelchair to push her through the doorway and away from the dead body. Then, I hesitate before running back for the guard’s discarded gun. The cool weight feels unnatural in my grip, but I force myself to pick it up, keeping my fingers well away from the trigger. Isn’t there a safety on guns? Where the hell is that?
