Gwen’s POV
“Hey, have you seen Stefan?” I ask Hanna, joining her on the watchtower of the old pack house.
The watchtower is at the back of the left side of the house, and it seems to have survived the raid for the most part. The wooden stairs leading to the top are a little rickety and could do with some work before being put to use again.
Hanna puts out the cigarette in her hand–this is the first time I’ve seen her smoke–and crushes the stub beneath her boot.
“You smoke?” I ask, sidling up next to her.
The platform at the top is box-like, with a surrounding walkway shielded by wooden rails. She’s leaning against a corner stilt, and since it isn’t giving way under her weight, I become confident in the strength of the structure and prop myself against the railing.
“Rarely,” she says, rubbing her hands along her arms. “Fuck, it’s cold out here.”
“Is it?” I ask, frowning. I’m not feeling the chill, and she’s the one wearing a pull-neck sweater beneath a denim jacket.
“Can’t feel it?” she asks. “Maybe I’m too sensitive to the temperature,” she says. Clearing her throat, she gazes out to the forest. “You were asking about Stefan?”
I look into the dark forest around us too. It’s a dark night, with no moon and the stars hidden behind clouds. The light from the house is the only brightness we can see for miles. “Yeah, I haven’t seen him since earlier when we were all at the bonfire.”
“I’m sure he’s somewhere around,” Hanna says, now bringing her hands together and rubbing her fingers against each other. Next, she rubs her neck beneath her sweater, and then she uncrosses her legs before crossing them again.
“Don’t mind me,” I tell her, “you can smoke if you want.”
She looks at me, looking a little confused. “What?”
“You seem fidgety.”
“Me?” She crosses her arms across her chest and goes still. “Oh, am I? It’s the cold, I guess.”
“Let’s go inside, then. Levi made a fire in the kitchen.”
She shakes her head. “No, I don’t feel like being indoors right now. Don’t worry about me, I get like this sometimes. It’ll pass.”
I nod, albeit hesitantly. I return my focus to the area around us. Where could he be?
“Have you asked Mari?” she asks me. “Earlier when he left, I think she went after him.”
I frown and look back at Hanna. “Really? I asked her before I came looking for you, and she said she hadn’t seen him.”
“Oh? He probably went on a run, then.”
“Alone?”
“Are you worried about him? Still not used to how powerful he is?”
“No, I…it’s just that…” This is a rough stretch for him. I don’t want him to be alone out there in a place where he probably went through some of the most horrendous moments of his childhood. I wish he had brought me along. Or one of the others.
“We can track him if it’ll make you feel better,” Hanna offers.
“Sure?” I ask, hesitant about whether she’s in the right condition to shift.
She nods and pushes off the stilt. “Besides, I’m itching to run. It makes me feel better when I get all…fidgety.”
I smile and push off the railing. “Okay, let’s go.”
We leave the watchtower and strip at the bottom, leaving our clothes on the rails surrounding the bottom stilts. Then we shift and start the walk towards the edge of the jungle, but we don’t get there before we both pick up Stefan’s scent.
It’s coming from the destroyed barn, and we head over there. It occurs to me that I should have checked whether he could be in the dungeon. But that thought disappears when we come across his clothes. His torn clothes.
Hanna and I exchange glances. This could only mean one thing–he shifted in a hurry. I don’t know what to think about that, but I know at the back of my mind that this can’t be good. Only in urgency would he not bother to strip first.
Hanna moves away from me, her snout close to the ground. Then she looks back at me and barks, and we shoot out into the night, following his scent.
We run for a long time, but fortunately, we don’t lose his scent. I try to reach out to him with my mind, but find nothing. How far did he go? We come to a river, and his scent leads us southwards along the bank. Who knows, maybe he circled back and went back to the house while we were on our search.
About a hundred yards down the riverbank, we start getting a new scent. Blood. What sends my blood curdling in my veins is that it’s mingled with his scent. I gain a burst of speed as I track it. I’m half-aware of Hanna trying to warn me from behind, but I’m not stopping for anything. If Stefan is in trouble, I cannot afford to wait.
A moment later, an ear-splitting howl breaks the night. I slow down and turn to look at Hanna. She’s on her haunches, head thrown back as she howls into the night. Right, it’s a good idea to call for help from the others. I’m just glad one of us is thinking straight. While she does the smart thing, I resume my run towards Stefan.
***
We find him further down the river, propped against a tree trunk in his human form. His eyes are closed, his body is still, and my blood freezes for the second time tonight. He has several gashes on his upper body, one of which is a nasty claw mark across his left pectoral. A wolf…a werewolf. He was in a fight with a werewolf.
I shift to my human form and fall to my knees beside him, not sure where to begin. Not sure what I’m looking at.
Hanna has a better handle on things because when she shifts, she immediately feels for his carotid, and then his breathing. “He is good,” she tells me, sighing heavily. “Just out.”
I sigh in relief and fall onto my haunches, the fear that had gripped me seeping out. While we inspect his wounds, I grip his hand in mine and try to rouse him. He doesn’t respond.
“The guys will be here soon,” Hanna tells me, getting to her feet and looking around. “Fuck, who could have attacked him? We didn’t think…” she trails off, starting towards the bushes to the right of the tree. I follow her with my eyes, reluctant to leave Stefan’s side. The curses that emerge from behind the bush a while later are an indication that she has found something.
“What is it?” I ask, getting to my feet.
“I don’t think you wanna see,” she says.
No, I think I do.
I hurry to her, looking back at Stefan a few times before paying attention to what’s behind the bush. The moment I see what she’s found, my stomach churns and a wave of nausea hits me instantly. “What’s…what on earth is that?” I ask, my face turned away from the horrendous sight.
Hanna tilts her head, as if seeking a deeper perspective of what she’s looking at. “I think he died mid-shift…” She nods her head. “Yep, that’s what happened. Never seen anything like this before, and trust me, I’ve seen a lot of messed up things.”
No doubt… “You think he’s the one who fought with Stefan?”
“Definitely,” she replies. “Wait, I’m catching another scent…”
“What?” When she leans down towards the remains of the werewolf, I almost haul her away. But she doesn’t look put off at all as she dips a finger into a bloody, half-torn arm and brings it to her nose.
It’s a wonder I don’t lose my dinner.
She sniffs the blood on her finger, shakes her head, takes a deeper sniff, then curses.
“No way,” she mutters.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure, but…”
“Gwen?”
I turn around at the sound of my name and rush back to Stefan. His eyes are open now. “Gwen,” he calls again, his voice stronger. I fall to his side and grab his hand.
“I’m here,” I tell him, squeezing his hand. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”
“Why are you here?” he asks instead of answering my questions. “You should not be here.” Hanna appears then, and his gaze shifts to her. “Take her home right now.”
Me? He wants her to take me home? He’s the one passed out on the forest floor, for heaven’s sake. And bleeding from about ten different places. “I’m not going back without you,” I say resolutely.
“Andreas and Levi will be here soon,” Hanna informs him. After a pause, she asks, “Were there others?”
He shakes his head. “No. Just him.”
Hanna shifts on her feet, looks towards the bush, and then back at Stefan. “I found something in the blood.”
He nods and tries to move, but groans and settles back against the trunk. “Yeah, me too.”
When none of them makes a comment as to the nature of whatever it is they found, I ask, “What is it?”
They exchange a glance, as if determining whether to let me in on the information or not. They better not–
“Vampires,” Stefan says finally.
I frown. “What? But that’s a werewolf…”
“Sure is,” Hanna says. “On steroids.”
Huh?