So much for scaring him straight. He was the one who was armed, so I would have to be the one who was faster.

"Do me a favor," I said. "Shoot me so that they can have an open casket? My mother will kill herself otherwise." I cut a glance at him, putting as much sincerity in my voice as I could muster in my current state of Oh crap oh crap I'm going to die Oh crap oh crap I'm going to die.

Anton muttered something in his native language. "Please," I said again. "Right through the heart. Kill me just as fast as in the head. I'm not wearing body armor. You can check."

"You have no no leverage to make demands of me," he snapped. leverage to make demands of me," he snapped.

"Anton," I said, putting as much sincerity as I could into my voice, considering that I was panicking on the inside. "All I want is to have my cousin and my aunt and my mother be able to say good-bye to me. Iknow what's coming. I'm not going to fight you. Just shoot me in the heart. Please."

Anton's nostrils flared. He was tall and thin compared to the pudgy thugs in the other room, and his face was drawn with blue varicose veins snaking across his cheeks, burst vessels in his nose. An ex-junkie, maybe, certainly not current, but his eyes had that blankness that comes with witnessing too much that people aren't meant to see.

He dropped the pistol, reaching out his free hand, patting me down. "Roll onto your stomach."

I did as he asked and he felt down the length of my back. He touched my Sig and threw it away from us. "You think you're smart, huh? You think you're going to grab your police gun and shoot me instead?" He grabbed my hair and slammed my face into the metal table. "Deceitful whore. Now I'm going to do it right between the eyes. For your mother."

"No," I said, "No, you're not." I grabbed his wrist, twisted the hand holding my hair, and bit him. Hard.

Anton screamed as my fangs sank into the fleshy part of his thumb, the blood coursing over my tongue driving me straight back into that black pit that lurked in me, where the monster waited, pacing and chained.

I shoved him away from me and he windmilled, bleeding, the gun moving away from my head. I snatched my holdout weapon from my ankle and went after him, instead of shooting him on the spot like I should have. I was lost in the lust for the hunt, and I hit Anton in the midsection, tackling him to the tile with a grunt from both of us.

Straddling his torso, I pressed the snub .38 against the soft part of his jaw with a growl. "Shoot me me?" I demanded, pulling the hammer back. It was a double-action revolver, so I didn't need to cock it to fire, but the effect of the chambers rotating scares the piss out of anyone with sense.

"I ... I'm sorry," Anton muttered thickly. Blood dribbled from his mouth. He had bitten his tongue when he went down. I bared my own bloody teeth at him and he gave a shiver. For such a big bad werewolf, it sure didn't take much to break his dominance.

Then again, having a gun pressed against your chin has that effect on most people. "You're damn right you're gods-damned sorry," I told him. "Who killed Lily Dubois?"

"I got no idea what you're even talking about," Anton hissed.

"Right, because I totally and completely believe you," I said. I pressed harder, curling my finger around the trigger. "You have three seconds. One."

"I don't know!" Anton panted. "There are a lot of girls. Nikolai ships them by the week. I don't know her!"

"Two," I snarled.

"I don't know her!" Anton howled. He latched his hands to my shoulders and tossed me off of his torso. I went tumbling to the floor, the .38 skittering out of my grasp. He was strong, too strong for his size, and I hit the floor hard enough to crack tile.

Anton scrambled for his pistol and I grabbed for the .38, and we both brought the guns to bear at the same moment. He was back to smirking. "You like to be in charge, eh? Think you're getting what you want and you go soft."

"You're a very good actor," I said. "You might have a career if you quit your day job."

Anton spat on the ground. "You put that gun down."

"I don't think so," I said, backing up slowly. If I could just get some cover between us, I could make a run for the Nova. That was a hell of a big if if, though. "I'm going to keep holding it, and we're going to work out our differences like adults, and not little kids playing cops and robbers."

"I'll shoot you in the fucking head!" he yelled, obviously fed up with my mouthy ways.

I risked a quick look over my shoulder. There was a dark hallway and a set of stairs beyond, dark and slick with mildew and moisture as the cold air ended and the dank smell of below ground began. I snapped my head back to Anton. "If you're going to shoot me in the head, then do it," I growled.

His finger tightened on the trigger, and in the second between my taunt and his gun firing, I ducked and ran. One bullet dug into the wall next to my head, another into a pile of sawdust pushed into the corner with a puff of air and wood fibers. One thing was to my advantage-angry weres don't make the best shots.

I lost my balance on the second stair and pitched forward into the dark, tumbling, limbs cracking against the cement stairway and metal railings until I landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. "Graceful," I grunted, pulling myself up.

I fumbled for my penlight and flicked it on, flashing it around the basement. Rusted piles of metal, old hooks and saws, pallets and cages for chickens, stacked like steel cairns to a dead civilization. The witch's alphabet cascaded across the walls, the standard language of spells for caster and blood witches, and most disciplines in between. I pointed the light at the floor and breathed a sigh of relief when I wasn't standing on another binding ward or in a circle.

Then I'd really be Hexed.

Anton shouted from above, in Russian, and I heard him and at least two other bodies start down the stairs.

There were showers and lockers at the far end of the basement, ribbons of rust staining the wall beneath the taps, and I doused my light and dove behind the half-walk, crouched in the damp, smelling the mildew from the drains. I tried not to breathe too loudly in the small pit of decay where I'd landed, and to still myself. If they lost me here, I could double back and get to my car.

Way to go, Wilder. You play the sheriff and now you're screwed.

This was why cops didn't go Lone Ranger, unless they wanted to end up dead. This was why my monster was rarely a real asset to my job. It might make me stronger or faster, but there were plenty of days when it just got me stuck in a creepy basement chased by a bunch of Russian gangsters. was why cops didn't go Lone Ranger, unless they wanted to end up dead. This was why my monster was rarely a real asset to my job. It might make me stronger or faster, but there were plenty of days when it just got me stuck in a creepy basement chased by a bunch of Russian gangsters.

Anton's footsteps and his panting breath were fast behind me, and another flashlight beam glanced off the wall above me.

"Nothing here," one of the heavies wheezed. "You prick, Anton, you let her get away."

"She has to be down here," the other said. "There's nowhere else to go."

"Shut up," Anton said. "Just go back upstairs."

"But Nikolai..." the first heavy whined.

"Nikolai ordered me to deal with her," he snarled. "And I will. Leave Leave. "

They retreated, cursing, and Anton snapped off his light. I heard him draw in a ragged breath, his wiry frame cutting off the light from the stairwell like a living scarecrow. "I know you're here, wolf girl," he singsonged. "I can smell you. I can taste taste you." you."

I held on to my Sig like a drowning man would clutch a piece of flotsam.

"I can hear your heart beating," Anton hissed, and then with a whisper of air he was standing over me. "And I see you."

Trapped, I goggled up at him, at the gun. Not my most proactive response by a long shot. How How had he seen me in the pitch dark that even my eyes were having trouble penetrating? How was he so goddamn fast? had he seen me in the pitch dark that even my eyes were having trouble penetrating? How was he so goddamn fast?

"Nothing to say this time?" Anton said. "Perhaps you have something you would like me to tell your family when Nikolai kills them as well?"

It didn't really matter how Anton had managed to find my hiding place-he was about to kill me and something needed to be done about that.

So I resorted to that old staple of fighting dirty, and lashed my foot out as he prattled on, kicking him squarely in the balls.

Anton doubled over, but he didn't lose his grip on the gun, and I cursed silently, raising my own. I aimed for his shoulder, just something to put him down long enough for me to get the hell out of the warehouse.

I squeezed the trigger, in the half-dark, and Anton flowed flowed to the left, out of the way of the bullet, and came upright as if he'd never had a steel-toed boot to the testicles in his life. to the left, out of the way of the bullet, and came upright as if he'd never had a steel-toed boot to the testicles in his life.

Well, shit.

Anton let out a low laugh. "You won't get me that way, bitch."

The only thing I'd seen even close to Anton was a Wendigo, and he wasn't that that, thank all the gods. If he were, I might as well give it up. You couldn't kill Wendigo except with fire, and I was fresh out of flamethrowers.

I stood up, slowly, holding my gun out to my side. "All right, Anton. Here's the thing-I'm leaving here one way or the other. You can let me go quietly, or we can fight, and you can lose, and I can hurt you. Your choice, since you started this."

That was a lie, of course. Anton had about six inches and fifty pounds on me, and while that would normally just make things more fun, he had also proven himself to be faster, freakishly strong and nigh-on impervious to pain. I really hate it when the bad guys have all the aces in their hand.

Anton drew himself up, baring his teeth. "I'll enjoy tearing pieces off of you, bitch."

Bitch, bitch, bitch. Didn't he know any other gender-specific insults? "Do it, then," I said, trying to circle him so that my back was to the stairs, to the exit.

Anton lashed out at me with a hand that sprouted claws under my eyes, faster than any were I'd run into before. Crap Crap. I was already losing and he was just getting started. The claws caught my shirt, tearing ribbons across my midsection.

I danced away, keeping myself in profile, presenting a small target. Anton snarled and then gathered his legs under himself and leaped, a spring straight up and out. It was terrifying, like watching a zombie jump at the camera in a scary movie, and my split second of hesitation cost me.

Anton's weight slammed into me and he took me to the floor, tangling his hands in my hair, slamming my head into the concrete. Lights flamed and dulled in front of my eyes and my vision went blurry.

How had he made that jump? What the hell was he?

Questions for another time, all. Anton bared his teeth, fangs fully extended now, and angled for my throat. I struck out with my free hand, feeling for anything, and finally closed my fist around the end of a rusty iron meat hook.

It would have to do. As Anton closed his teeth around my throat for the finishing blow, I swung the hook up and buried it between his shoulder blades.

A crunch, like a cleaver cutting into a bunch of fresh celery. Anton quivered on top of me and then went still except for a convulsive twitching through his limbs. I felt a warm trickle of blood over my collarbone and shoved him away from me, rolling out from under his weight.

The hook didn't look to have hit anywhere vital, not even a deep wound and very little blood, but from the way he was gasping and twitching, I wagered Anton was not long for this world.

I found my Sig, and backed away from the body, the irrational fear that it would get up again and start chasing me bubbling up from the animal part of my brain.

It's happened before, and I wasn't taking any chances. I slipped up the stairs, hearing the heavies muttering to each other in the freezer and Nikolai snapping at them. Get back to work Get back to work sounds the same in any language. sounds the same in any language.

I headed for the emergency exit, shoving open the heavy fire door. I was tired, bleeding, sore everywhere from the tussle with Anton, and I was shaking with delayed shock. So I nearly jumped out of my skin when the fire alarm started screeching.

It just figured-a condemned warehouse and they still worry about fire safety. I took off at a run and made for my car. I threw myself into the Nova and fumbled for my keys, jamming them into the ignition and gunning the engine.

Nikolai came barreling out of the warehouse with a gun, stepping into my path. I pressed my foot down on the gas. He could be pavement pizza or he could get out of my way. I didn't care particularly which he chose right at the moment.

He leaped out of the way, and I sped out of the office park, laying rubber on the main road and speeding all the way back into the city.

My rage dissipated as the road hummed under the Nova's tires, and all that was left was fatigue and shock. I've encountered a lot of weird people in my time, but Anton was something new. He'd come close to winning our little dance and that didn't sit well. If I met another like him, I'd be Hexed.

Hands shaking, I took the exit off of the Appleby Expressway into downtown and tried to hold it together. I felt like I wanted to vomit, but I sat in the car instead after I parked at the Plaza, sweating and shaking.

I gripped the steering wheel and looked at myself in the rearview mirror. I'd done something unforgivably stupid and probably just Hexed any chance I'd had to start with of closing Lily's case. "Nice going," I told myself with a sneer. Nothing to do now except go back to my office, call the body in to Bryson and Batista, and deal with the fallout of letting my monster have its head.

Just when I thought I had a handle on the were, it tricked me again, laughed at me from dark corners. I wished, not for the first time, that I could just rip it out of me, be a plain human again. Mundane had to be better than this.

CHAPTER 11.

Lane followed me into my office when I arrived back at the SCS. "You don't look so good," she said.

I slumped in my chair and ran my hands down my face. "I'm lucky to be alive, never mind looking fresh and fabulous, Natalie."

"So I take it bursting into a Russian mobster's office and confronting him didn't yield the fruit that it always does in the movies?" Lane said, sitting on the edge of my desk.

I glared at her. "I'm really not in the mood right now, okay?" I rolled my neck, trying to work out a few of the kinks, and then buzzed Bryson's desk. "David, can you and Javier come in here for a second?"

"Sure thing, LT," he said. He gave me the same look as Lane when he clapped eyes on me. "Shit, Wilder, did you run yourself through a cement mixer?"

"There's a body at Rostov's meatpacking plant," I said. "It's a were, so it's an SCS beef. Can you and Javier take CSU and go down there?"

Batista paced. "And how do you know about this body?"

"I created it," I said shortly. "I'll be in tomorrow and you can take my statement."

"Internal Affairs is gonna shit a brick," Bryson said.

"Were body," I repeated. "SCS case. It's not a hard one to figure out, David."

Batista touched him on the arm. "Come on. We'll grab Anderson and get right on it, Lieutenant."

"Thank you," I said. "Less questioning, more following orders. Go on, shoo."

Once they'd left, Lane gave me her motherly, disapproving look. "It sounds like things got way, way out of hand with Rostov, Lieutenant."

"I know what I'm doing," I said, stubbornly.

"I'm going to give my opinion here," she said. "And then you can get angry, because that's what you do."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Please. Enlighten me."

"I think you'd do anything to get this guy," she said. "Obsession can be a very narrow edge to walk, Luna."

"Are you my shrink now?" I asked, probably more snappish than she strictly deserved.

"Just someone who's been where you are," Lane said. "Mine was the father of a ten-year-old girl who'd been systematically abusing her for five years. My captain put me on unpaid leave when I started following him from place to place, and he reported me to Internal Affairs when I hit the guy in the face with my baton."

I looked up at her. Lane didn't seem like she had the stones for anything except procedure. "What happened?"

"I got ordered to go to anger management classes and the prick sued the department for a fat settlement." She gave me a sad smile. "At least the little girl isn't in his custody anymore. Even if he never did see a day of prison."

"Prison is too good for some people," I said softly.

"Agreed," said Lane. "But it's not up to us to decide that, is it?"