"Really?" Annalise glanced at Arlene, measuring her expression.

"Yep. What about you? Have you found him? Did some of Henstrick's people visit you?"

"No, and yes."

"What happened to Henstrick's men?"

"They had a car accident. A terrible, terrible accident. None of them survived."

"Okay. What's next?"

"I've never killed werewolves before. That sounds like fun."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

Annalise pulled open the pa.s.senger door and climbed in. I walked around to the driver's side.

"I'm coming with you," Arlene said in her most commanding tone.

"No, you're not." Annalise's voice didn't carry a lot of power the way Arlene's did, but there was a dangerous undercurrent to it that I doubted Arlene would recognize.

"I am," Arlene said. "I need to. There are some things I have to know."

Annalise had not yet closed the door. Arlene climbed onto the footrest and stepped up much too close. Maybe someone else would have been uncomfortable, would have yielded, but Annalise's girlish little voice just got very low. "Step back."

"Arlene," I said. "Get down. You don't know what you're doing." Reluctantly, she stepped back onto the parking lot. "Boss, she could be useful."

Annalise snorted. "How?"

"I can find them," Arlene said. "Emmett keeps the others close. They've never left the house they grew up in."

"What if the Dubois brothers aren't at the station? She could direct us to their house."

"So could a phone book."

Arlene smirked. "They're unlisted. You-"

"Fine," Annalise said. "But she's your baggage, Ray. You have to haul her around, and it's on you if she gets killed."

Annalise slammed the van door. Arlene huffed indignantly and began to walk around the front of the van.

I went to meet her. "Don't annoy my boss."

"She certainly seems to be short on manners."

"You're not listening. Emmett Dubois is nothing compared to the woman in that van. She's not going to show either of us any respect, and if you can't handle that, you can go back to organizing the cleanup at church socials."

"I... I understand." Arlene looked toward the ground.

"Climb in," I said. "You'll have to stand between the seats. We're not set up for hitchhikers."

She did. I strapped myself in behind the wheel and started the engine. "Where to first, boss?"

"Let's try their home. If you injured them, they might go to ground."

"North," Arlene said immediately. "They live on the north end of town, about three blocks east of the station."

I pulled out of the parking lot slowly. Even so, Arlene winced as she used her injured hand to stabilize herself. On the way, we pa.s.sed a knot of people attending to a body on the sidewalk. It was Rake-Thin Arms, who had been shot and fallen out the window. I wondered if I would ever learn his name.

Sugar Dubois was nowhere in sight.

After a few minutes of driving, Arlene turned to us. "Can I ask a question?"

Annalise didn't answer. "Okay," I said. I had a question of my own to ask, but I wasn't going to do it in front of Arlene.

"If one of them bit me, does that mean I'm going to..."

She'd already asked me this question. I didn't know if Annalise was going to answer or not. After a few moments of silence, I said: "Annalise? Is she going to become a predator?"

Annalise turned and looked at Arlene. "If I knew for certain that you would, you'd already be dead."

"The silver hurt them," I said. "Regular bullets didn't do anything. And one of them had a sigil on his back. He turned into a human when I broke it."

Annalise didn't respond.

"Please," Arlene pleaded. Her voice was small. "Can't you tell me anything?"

Annalise turned and looked at her. "I can tell you this: if you're one of them, I'll make it quick, because Ray seems to like you. There's nothing more you need to know."

That was the end of that conversation.

We pulled up to the Dubois brothers' house a few minutes later. It was a large wood-frame house with a long front yard and a high chain-link fence around it. Behind the house, the ground sloped upward into wild terrain.

Arlene pointed to it. "Their grandfather bought that house. The men have always shared it. When you marry one Dubois brother, you marry them all. Not that any of them are married at the moment. Luke's first wife never left the house until she'd boozed herself to death. That was years ago, before Wilma. Emmett's wife-well, she disappeared one day with her kids. If anyone is there, it's one of the brothers."

Annalise opened her door and stepped out of the van. "Boss?" I called. "Do you need me, boss?"

"I doubt it." She slammed the door shut and walked toward the front gate.

"I brought this," Arlene said, holding up a slender letter opener. The blade was silver. "I stole it off the desk at the emergency room. Shouldn't I give this to her, just in case?"

I turned back to Annalise. She unzipped the front of her jacket, then stepped up to the padlocked gate. She grabbed the chain link and tore it off the frame. Beside me, Arlene gasped. Annalise shook her hands at her sides. They must have hurt her very much. She stepped through the gap and walked casually toward the front door.

"She doesn't need it," I said. "We'll keep it in case one of the brothers makes a break for it."

Annalise kicked the front door down. She entered the darkness of the house.

While we waited, Arlene laid the flat side of the letter opener against her wrist. I could see that the edge was pretty dull, but that wasn't surprising. Silver was not a metal for weapons. The tip seemed sharp enough, though.

Arlene lifted the blade from her arm. Welts had begun to form. She looked at me. "Are you going to tell her?"

"I have to," I said.

"Good." She held up the opener and stared at it. "I can't do it myself, you understand. That's a terrible sin."

"Under the circ.u.mstances-"

"It's a sin," she said with finality. "I won't let my last act in this world be a sin."

"If you could choose, how would you want it?" I asked. I knew Annalise could take Arlene's life quickly and simply.

Arlene stared at the silver blade. "Fighting. I want to go down fighting." Then she knelt on the dirty floor of the van and began to pray.

A few minutes later, Annalise emerged from the house. She walked down the front path and climbed back into the van. "They weren't there, but we already knew that."

"Then why did you go in?" Arlene asked.

I glanced at the house and saw orange firelight flickering in one of the windows. If there was a spell or spell book hidden there, it would soon be ashes. I started the engine and pulled away. "The police station, then."

"Don't you think they would want to find a doctor for Sugar?" Arlene asked.

"They were already at a hospital," I said. "They could have charged into the emergency room with their guns drawn and gotten what ever they wanted. I don't think they want doctors or drugs or st.i.tches. I think they want their magic."

We drove the remaining two blocks in silence. All three pickup trucks were parked in front of the station, along with the Bentley and two police cars. One of the patrol cars was parked at an angle, as though it had skidded to a halt. The blinds on all the windows were closed.

I drove around the corner and parked a full block away. "What's the plan?"

Annalise glanced at Arlene, then turned to me. Her expression was unreadable. "You're my wooden man. I'll go around the back and wait for you to draw their attention. When you have, I go in through the back door and start doing my work. If you survive, that's nice, too."

"You know what would be nice?" I said. "Some gloves. I'd like some latex gloves or something. My fingerprints are already on file with the police. If I do survive, I don't want to spend the rest-"

"If you needed gloves, I'd have given them to you already," she said.

"What about me?" Arlene asked.

Annalise glanced down at the welts on Arlene's forearm. "I'll take care of you later." She got out of the van.

Arlene gripped my shoulder. "I'm coming with you. Is that okay?"

It wasn't, but I couldn't find it in myself to tell her so.

"Come on," I told her. Guess I wasn't going to die alone today.

We climbed out of the van and walked down the block, pa.s.sing the diner Annalise and I had eaten in that first night. The windows were still covered with cardboard, but the waitress spotted us anyway and came outside. "Aunt Arlene, what's going on? I heard there was a gun-fight at the hospital, and Emmett and the boys just screeched into the station like they were starring in an action movie. Do you know what's going on?"

Arlene turned to her. "Emmett Dubois killed me," she said.

The waitress stepped back in surprise. "What? What do you mean?"

"He's killed a lot of people," Arlene said. Her voice was flat. I looked at her gray hair and wrinkled skin-she had looked about sixty when I first met her, but she seemed much older at the moment. I wondered if she'd led a good life, and if I would be ready to end my life at her age, or at any age. "He's been bleeding this town dry. Someone has to end it. And end him."

"What do you mean he's killed you?" the waitress asked. "Has he poisoned you?"

"Yes," Arlene said. "That's it exactly."

The waitress stepped forward. "Aunt Arlene-"

"Don't." Arlene waved her niece away. "I have something I need to do."

She and I walked the rest of the way toward the station. I told her to stand at the corner of the wall, beside the stairs, then I circled around behind the trucks. The red one was full of garbage and fast-food wrappers, so I broke into the black one.

With the ghost knife, I cracked the ignition lock and started the truck. I raced the engine loudly, threw it into reverse, and backed out of the spot.

The blinds rippled, and I stood on the brakes, making the tires chirp.

The front door flew open, and Luke lunged out, his face twisted with anger. Obviously, this was his truck. He lifted his revolver and aimed it at me.

I ducked beneath the dashboard, but I didn't hear any shots. Maybe he loved his truck too much to shoot at it.

Emmett yelled at him, and although his voice was faint, I distinctly heard him say, "... your own brother." I peeked over the dash and saw him go back into the building.

Obviously, I needed to do more to catch their attention. I threw the truck into drive.

The door flew open again, and Luke shoved s.h.i.+reen into the daylight. She looked terrified. He pointed a revolver at her head, and she cringed and sank to the ground.

And began to change. s.h.i.+reen seemed to recede from me, while a strange, hairy thing became visible. It was long and ungainly, with spindly, crooked legs and clawed fingers and toes. Its head was round and bristling with fur, and it had a short snout filled with brutally long teeth.

It stepped forward into the daylight, its gaze locked on me. It had its orders, and it was pretty clear who it was supposed to kill.

It moved toward the steps. It was clumsy on its spindly legs, but those teeth looked vicious. It went down on all fours, but that appeared to be even more awkward than walking upright, so it grabbed the railing instead.

Poor s.h.i.+reen.

I revved the engine and shot forward. On her crooked legs, s.h.i.+reen stumbled at the bottom of the stairs. The pickup slammed into her with its full force.

The air bag went off in my face, and I felt the truck bounce backward. The air bag deflated, and I threw open the door.

s.h.i.+reen's arm and legs were shattered, and her rib cage was crushed. Before my eyes, her broken bones righted themselves with loud pops and cracks. She moaned and whimpered.

Maybe I could get into that red truck after all and park it on her.

s.h.i.+reen growled at me. Her transformed legs weren't built for standing or walking upright, and she stood awkwardly. Steadying herself on the crumpled, hissing hood of Luke's truck, she lunged for me.