Randall was leaning forward, attention rapt. "They're not all stories, though," he pointed out quietly.

"No," the Gray Lady acknowledged, tilting her head. "Silver, iron, holy water, all of these things have their places. But not for most."

"Why silver?" Jed found himself asking. "I mean, the silver knife thingy worked on Fil. You guys got a hard-on for mining or some s.h.i.t?"

The Gray Lady looked at him, eyes flaring yellow. Once again, Jed thought that perhaps rubbing the whole I killed your ex thing in her face might not be wise. He wasn't afraid of her, but shooting his way out of this place wasn't exactly on his to-do list. "There are many reasons. The silver comes from deep in the earth, from the purest heart of it. It will kill many of the older ones if smelted properly and mixed with sacrificial blood."

"And the bullets wouldn't do anything to you," Randall said slowly, puzzling through it. "They'd kill a lesser wolf or a were simply by virtue of being a projectile weapon, but for you they'd be nothing at all."

"True. At the time of the first telling, silver was rare. Expensive. Telling the humans to make bullets out of it ensured we would have some peace." The Gray Lady shrugged. "A little truth mixed in with the lie."

"So all this means is that the hunters have bad information," Anthony said. "Did they stumble across that myth on their own, or is, as you said, someone telling them fairy tales?"

"These bullets are made special." Jed turned it over, facing the flat end of the bullet toward Anthony. "That's the maker's mark. We figure out who's supplying these and we know who's bankrolling the whole operation." He shot a glance down toward the Gray Lady. "One thing that hasn't changed, your royal furriness. Silver is still going to be f.u.c.king hard to come by for your average redneck. Especially enough for as many bullets as we saw. Not to mention the cash someone splashed for those guns."

"Of course." The Gray Lady examined the bullet a final time, then rolled it back over the tabletop to Jed. She took a breath, looking like she was gathering herself-her shoulders straightening, her expression hardening. "And how long do we have before this war arrives on our doorstep?"

Everyone always wanted to know that. Like they could avoid it. Like it was a dust storm in the desert and you could just roll up the windows and wait for it to pa.s.s. "Oh, sweetheart," he sighed, shaking his head, looking at the table. At the map with its little markings, at the bullets and the guns. "That s.h.i.t is happening right now. They're picking off the little packs around you, see?" He jabbed his finger at the map. "Some of them killed, some taken, I think. They're looking for you." Jed looked up, meeting her eyes, holding them. And for once, just once, he almost didn't see that dismissal, like he might actually be worth more than a chew toy. "They will find you. It's just a matter of how long your luck holds out."

Silence descended around the table. The Gray Lady was looking down, clearly lost in thought. Jed felt Redford's hand steal into his, their fingers lacing together. Jed squeezed lightly, glancing over to catch Redford's gaze-he looked worried, even with Knievel standing on her hind legs to bat gently at Redford's cheek. Jed gave him a rea.s.suring look. This was always the s.h.i.tty part. Waiting for the client to realize he was right.

"Well, little human." The Gray Lady's voice broke the quiet. "I think you should stay with us for the time being. It seems that now is the time for closing ranks."

"Sister," Jed said, "now is the time for a h.e.l.l of a lot more than that. You've got people out there hunting you. Right now it's a small group. Probably some ex-cops, private security types. Good, but not great. Someone is bankrolling this, and it ain't a cheap bill. Which means when they don't get results, they're going to step it up and hire guys like me. And let me tell you"-he leaned in, expression deadly serious-"you really don't want someone like me coming after you."

"We have been hunted before." The Gray Lady dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand.

"Not like this."

"Yes," she barked, eyes blazing into that inhuman yellow. "In all years, in all ages, your kind has sought to wipe us out. I know how to protect my pack, Journey Walker."

"Don't call me Journey," Jed gritted reflexively, half rising. "Look, I get it, you're all high and mighty, but-"

"I am my pack's leader." The Gray Lady was standing as well, both hands braced on the table, tension practically vibrating around her.

"But," Jed continued, louder, as if he hadn't been interrupted at all, "this is not the time to sit in circles and hold f.u.c.king hands. We know where their bases are. We go out and we blow them all to f.u.c.king kingdom come. And then we find the f.u.c.ker who's supplying them and we blow his a.s.s to the sky too. Come on, you guys are G.o.dd.a.m.n wolves, not a bunch of f.u.c.king rabbits. Act like you've got some teeth and attack."

Anthony gave a bark of a laugh. "We are not animals, Jed." There was a growl underneath his voice, his eyes as bright as the Gray Lady's. "We are not aggressive for the sake of violence."

Without missing a beat, eyes locked on Anthony's, Jed picked up one of the semiautomatics on the table. He took it apart, then put it back together, hands flying and snapping everything into place, like it was some deadly dance. He didn't even have to think about it; his gaze never wavered from Anthony's face. And before anyone could react, before one f.u.c.king person could even think to stop him, he put the gun to Edwin's head, and he pulled the trigger.

The empty chamber clicked with a deafening sound. Jed threw the gun on the table and sat. "You might not be, cupcake," he told Anthony. "But the men who are going to come? The men like me? They are."

Anthony was just shaking his head. He stepped closer to Jed, standing at his side, and picked up the gun, turning it over in his hands. "Don't ever do that again," he said simply, without a hint of threat in his voice. He didn't need to vocalize it so obviously. Whereas Randall had a look of such unrepressed rage on his face that Jed was kind of surprised he still had his throat, Anthony simply stared him down.

Edwin was white, staring at the pile of weapons in the middle of the table, uncharacteristically still. Randall had scooted closer to his brother, shoulder nudged against him. Jed felt bad for a minute, for scaring the kid, but in the end he just shrugged. "You don't think I would kill him. But here's the thing. I'm not a good guy. If Randall hadn't paid me to come with you, if the job was instead to hunt a bunch of wolves for cash? I'd have taken it. End of story. I'm not some hero riding in to save your a.s.ses. I'm just a professional who's telling you what the G.o.dd.a.m.n score is."

"Jed," Redford whispered urgently, tugging on his hand.

"You should probably shut up now." Randall's voice was hard. Redford had on those ridiculous eyes, the ones that meant he wanted Jed to stop talking and possibly stop insulting people. Which was usually the right call, but in this case, Jed didn't know how to say it any plainer. People with big guns were trying to kill this little commune. They should fight back. He wasn't going to just let them think the world was rainbows and magnum condoms.

"No," Anthony said. "Jed's right. Not about the explosions or blowing people up. He's right about the men that will be sent." He looked at Jed, his eyes faded back to their usual blue. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're on our side, and I hope it's more than the money that's keeping you here."

"They've got a mean continental breakfast." Jed's lips twitched upward, but the sharp tic in his shoulders relaxed a little. He nodded at Anthony, accepting his support. "Trust me. Your brother didn't pay me nearly enough to be here. Besides, no one hired me. I'm Red's plus-one. This is just free advice." He turned to the Gray Lady. "And I can count on one d.i.c.k the number of times I've given that out. So maybe listen to me."

Randall had deflated a bit, Edwin was still looking rattled, but the Gray Lady didn't seem calmed down at all. Still, she nodded sharply, sharing a look with Anthony. "We need time," she finally said, sitting elegantly. "Despite your impetuous nature, these things cannot be decided in a moment. Can you give us that?"

Jed considered it. "My rate's five thousand a day, plus expenses."

"Jed!" Redford looked scandalized this time.

"Oh, right." Jed looked a little sheepish, slinging his arm around Redford's shoulders. "Ten thousand. You're getting both of us." Knievel yawned, stretching and hopping up on the table. "Twelve," Jed amended without missing a beat. Knievel obviously counted too.

"That's not what I meant, Jed," Redford sighed. He leaned in close, hissing in Jed's ear, "They build their houses out of logs. How much money do you really think they have? We're not out to bankrupt them."

Eyes widening, Jed looked at Redford, raising his eyebrows as if to protest. Redford's expression didn't waver, so, with a heavy sigh, Jed sulked back in his seat. "Fine. Pro f.u.c.king bono. But you try and make me sleep on the G.o.dd.a.m.n ground again, I will blow so much s.h.i.t up that you'll think it's the Fourth of f.u.c.king a.s.s July."

"That would be one of our stipulations," Redford said, a lot more diplomatically. "That Jed be granted a cabin for the nights."

"Also, would it kill you to have some whiskey?" When Randall shot him an exasperated look, Jed pointed to Knievel. "It's for her! She likes a c.o.c.ktail before bed."

"I think that can be arranged." The Gray Lady's voice was that dry, annoyed tone Jed remembered none too fondly from his school days. He'd practically majored in detention. "Any other demands?"

"No," Redford said, jumping in before Jed could open his mouth. "Food and a roof over our heads are all we ask." He put a hand to Jed's back, patting him consolingly. "As for advice-first you'll need to post at least twice the amount of guards you currently have around your perimeter, at all hours. If you need more time to make a decision, we'll find more information for you. We'll try to trace the bullets back to the manufacturer, and hopefully we can give you something to make a more informed decision on."

Redford was so G.o.dd.a.m.n hot.

Jed was just staring at him, that ridiculous little smile tugging up one corner of his mouth. And if they hadn't been in the room with prudish, overstuffed professors who would probably faint, Jed was pretty d.a.m.n sure he would have kissed the h.e.l.l out of Redford right then. Or gotten on his knees and begged. Maybe both. In any case, he had to content himself with drawing Redford in closer, nodding to everything he said, and being so proud he really wasn't sure how to begin to show it.

"And hopefully the increased guards will make the hunters think twice about attacking before they bring in the big guns," Redford continued. "We saw on the wall that the hunters had made notes about smaller packs in the area. They should probably be informed too."

"Do you guys have a network?" Jed asked, peering around the table. "Like in that Dalmatian movie? You go howl and the next pack gets the message?" Perking up, he added, "Or, like, virtual b.u.t.tsniffing? E-mail for the a.s.s focused?"

The Gray Lady did not look amused. Jed almost felt offended; that was hilarious.

"We have a system in place," she said, serene as ever.

And apparently she wasn't going to share with the cla.s.s. Naturally. Jed shrugged, arms folded, leaning back dangerously in his chair. "Fine. You spread the word. I'll do some research, see if I can follow the money."

"Fine." The Gray Lady stood, nodding at them all. "I will antic.i.p.ate a report soon, Jed Walker. Please, do not fail me." As if he needed a reminder of how high the stakes were. She swept out of the room, ramrod straight and elegant, like a willow branch refusing to bend in a windstorm. In all his life, Jed didn't know if he'd ever met anyone who mixed that much cla.s.sy with b.a.l.l.s that big. He found himself grateful that, at least for now, it looked like they were all on the same side.

"You smell like Anthony's sheets did when Veronica used to come visit." Edwin was standing close, leaning in to sniff Jed, nose all twisted up in a grimace. "It's sour. What is that?"

"Come, mud, rain, and ball sweat," Jed answered easily. "Welcome to the glamorous life of the mercenary for hire."

"a.s.sf.u.c.kING DONKEY b.a.l.l.s in a f.u.c.king sewer." Jed threw his phone across the cabin room, followed by the pile of maps and his half-empty bottle of beer. "Jesus Christ." Dragging his hand through his hair, he slammed his a.s.s down on the chair, scowling at the dripping mess in the corner. "Fifteen calls, Red. Fifteen f.u.c.king calls. I might as well have shoved my hand up my a.s.s and spun for all the info I got."

He'd been at this for hours now. After the painful act of peeling his jeans off-and the unexpected Brazilian wax he'd gotten from the mud and other a.s.sorted grossness drying and sticking to his short and curlies-he'd showered, changed, and gotten to work. This part should be easy. But one by one his contact list dwindled without a speck of new information to show for it. h.e.l.l, even the hardest cases he'd done were easier than this.

Turned out, everyone he knew still thought vampires sparkled and werewolves were in London. Not even whispers of silver bullets were going around the usual circles. h.e.l.l, in desperation he'd tried a couple of David's old numbers, only to come up against a disconnected message every time.

No one knew a d.a.m.n thing that was useful. For the first time in his life, Jed found himself at the end of his rope with nothing to show for it but a limp d.i.c.k.

Redford looked up from where he'd ensconced himself on the cabin bed. As Jed had been making calls, Redford had migrated his way under a pile of covers, curled up on his side with his nose in a book. Now he was looking at Jed with a faintly concerned frown. "You don't have anybody else you can call?"

"Well, I'm waiting for the Tooth Fairy to get back to me," Jed growled, eyes narrowed as he stared up at the ceiling. "But other than that...." Heaving out a long sigh, Jed scrubbed both hands across his face, desperately trying to ma.s.sage some blood into his brain. "It's fine," he muttered, the chair thumping back down to four legs as Jed swung himself up again. He pa.s.sed by Redford, dropping a distracted kiss to the top of Redford's head before he gathered up the maps and his phone, dumping them back onto the table.

He arranged the papers again, smoothing them out carefully. He'd just start over. And if that didn't work, he'd start one more time. Over and over again, he'd go over this until a pattern emerged or he got the info he needed for the next step.

"I guess most of your contacts don't really know about all this," Redford said. "Can you pa.s.s me the papers we got from the cabin? I want to have another look over them."

"You should sleep, babe," Jed protested, but he gathered up the papers and spread them out on the bed for Redford. G.o.d knew what time it was, but he was pretty sure they were rounding a.s.sb.u.t.t-o-thirty. Cracking his back, Jed took a moment to stretch, stifling a yawn and peering outside. It was still dark, but he swore he could see the first cracks of dawn lightening the sky beyond the trees to gray. "I need coffee," he mumbled, frowning. "I wonder if they have coffee."

"They do in the kitchen." Redford's reply was absent as he shuffled through the papers. "I think I heard someone mention the kitchen is open all hours. Do you want me to get some coffee?"

Blinking, Jed rubbed his eyes before sitting himself back down and picking up his phone. "I want you to sleep," he told Redford. "I'm fine. I can go for days. I think I've proven that on more than one occasion." His usual leer was more exhausted than normal, and he scrolled through his phone's contacts, looking for someone, anyone, who might give him a clue.

Redford looked like he was on the verge of disagreeing, but he relented. "Come here, then. Get all your stuff so you don't have to move." He patted the bed, shifting over to make room.

He wanted to say no. He was working. This was a job-even though he was getting paid f.u.c.k all for it-and when he was on a job, that was all he was. It was what he was good for. This and giving head were pretty much his only useful skills. So he should be able to solve this. Make the calls, do the research, track this s.h.i.t down, and take care of the problem. It was who he was.

Only none of his contacts meant jack. Jed's whole f.u.c.king network was worthless. They dealt with gun smuggling and drug lords and kidnappers, they were the ears to the ground in a world where wolves were on the Discovery Channel and the biggest danger was a trigger-happy amateur. He didn't get this place, these people, and neither did any of his contacts.

So basically, he was worthless.

"Jed." Redford's soft call broke into his thoughts. Jed blinked and looked up to see Redford now standing in front of him, his hands outstretched. "Come on. You can keep researching if you really want to, but just come to bed."

Heaving out a long exhalation, wishing to G.o.d he still smoked when he was stressed, Jed gave a jerk of a nod. Redford took his hands, and they gathered up maps and books and the phone, Redford smiling so d.a.m.n sweet as they arranged themselves in the bed. They wound up under the covers, Redford curled up against his side, under one arm, as they paged through the notes one more time, Knievel a warm weight on their feet.

Pressing his lips to Redford's temple, Jed breathed slowly, letting himself relax into him. "Okay," he said, flipping through his phone again, "we'll start at the As." Again.

Punching in a number, Jed's voice cracked into a boisterous, manic pace, his grin to match. "Artie! How are you, you stupid f.u.c.ker? Yeah, I know, I called earlier. Well don't s.h.i.t on me. It's not my fault it's six in the morning. Look, I got a question about bullets."

Chapter 8.

Redford THE SOUND of yelling woke him up.

Jed was up before Redford even opened his eyes. "What's going on?" Redford managed to mumble, rolling his way out of bed to find his pants. He couldn't pick out any words in the yelling, but the stench of fear was obvious.

As soon as Redford had a shirt on, he tumbled after Jed out the cabin door, eyes barely open-Jed had a gun out, his posture relaxed but alert, moving quickly with his body half turned toward the source of the yelling to present less of an easy target. Jed hadn't bothered to find clothes, not that he seemed concerned about standing in the chilly early morning air in nothing but his boxers. The sun hadn't even started to get close to the horizon.

There was a half circle of wolves already gathered around a young girl who looked no more than thirteen, terror making her mouth thin and her eyes wide. She'd fallen to her knees, drawing in desperate pants of air. Mallory was there already, standing protectively over her, one hand on her shoulder. She smelled subtly different than the rest of this pack, a wolf, but from a different family.

Since Jed wasn't even half-dressed and was brandishing a gun, Redford grabbed his arm to stop him from getting too close. "She's from one of the smaller packs," he murmured to Jed.

Jed didn't even glance over at him, just giving a tight nod, jaw working. "The G.o.dd.a.m.n hunters," he breathed, eyes narrowing. Redford could almost see the wheels spinning in Jed's head as he put pieces together, watching the girl as she was practically engulfed by the worried pack. "You go sniff out some details. I'm getting the supplies."

As Jed left, Redford edged closer to the group. He'd never been good at stealth, but in this case everybody was too distracted to notice him. It worked well enough. In the chaos of noise and questions he could see Mallory turning to another wolf, speaking lowly under his breath about the girl's pack: ten miles to the northeast, about twenty wolves.

Jed was right. The hunters had hit. Some members of the pack were wrapping a blanket around the girl, giving her water, making a place for her to sit on the benches around the fire. None of them were asking questions. In fact, no one at all seemed in much of a hurry.

"What happened?" Edwin was next to Redford, looking sleep tousled and only half-awake. Randall was after him, clucking his tongue and handing Edwin a sweater to wrap around his bare shoulders. "Who's that?"

"I don't think it's any of our business, Edwin," Randall started, but Edwin didn't seem to be listening. He darted around the bustling wolves, going to the girl. He was in pajama pants and Randall's gray sweater, looking ridiculous, but he smiled at the girl, took her hands, asking her questions in a low voice Redford couldn't quite make out.

"What is this, a party?" Jed had arrived, bag slung around his shoulder, dressed all in black. "We going or not? Who's got details?"

"It was hunters." Edwin appeared back through the crowd, normally cheerful face thunderous. "Tala, that's the girl, she was asleep when her dad woke her up. The pack smelled them and sent her for help. At least five of them, she thinks, and they stank of metal and gunpowder."

"Where they at now?" Jed was rifling through his pack, checking his guns again. It was a ritual, Redford knew. Jed liked to be prepared. "Gunfire yet, or no?"

Edwin shook his head. "She got away clean, and the pack apparently has a fallback cave they use when people get too close. It's by the river, about ten miles up."

"Northeast," Redford chimed in. "I heard Mallory talking about it. We can run there in twenty minutes or so."

"Maybe you can," Jed grumped. "Two hours for me. Remember, I've got half the legs."

"Drive it?" Randall had come closer, dark eyes serious behind his gla.s.ses. "Those maps you've got, they show all the forest roads, right? There has to be access points. If I remember correctly, that direction has the fire trails, so there'll be something drivable for most of the ride. We can run, you can follow."

"We?" Jed's eyebrow raised. "You too, specs?"

Randall snorted. "Edwin is already planning on going. I'm hardly going to stay here and let him go alone."

"h.e.l.l yes I'm going," Edwin practically growled. "And we're running out of time."

"Give me a gun." Victor had appeared at Jed's left flank, holding out his hand. "I'm coming too."

Redford could probably list about twenty reasons giving Victor a gun was a very bad idea. Jed seemed to agree with him because he held his bag a little closer, as if protecting his weapons from Victor's hands. "Am I being pranked?" Jed asked, looking between Victor and Randall. "Seriously, is this nerds gone wild?"

"Just give him a gun, Jed." Anthony's voice came from behind Randall. He'd approached them after sniffing around the edges of the pack, hovering just outside of the range of where Mallory and the Gray Lady were talking together. "An unloaded one, if it makes you feel better."

Victor went to protest, probably on the verge of giving Anthony a very stern lecture, but Anthony was already in the middle of shifting. He b.u.t.ted his head against Jed's knee, a clear we're heading out.

Redford could see Jed glancing at the girl and then back at Victor, obviously having a very brief, very intense mental war. Finally he handed over one of his precious guns, gently wrapping Victor's hands around the b.u.t.t. "Safety," he murmured, coming closer to Victor to give him a quick lesson. "Trigger. Keep your finger here, on the guard, until you're ready to shoot. Safety on until I say so. It's loaded and ready, so don't aim at anything you don't want shot off, no matter what. Holster's in my bag." He handed said pack off to Victor. "Keep close, keep your head down, and for f.u.c.k's sake, princess, don't get shot."

With that, Jed took off toward Mallory and the Gray Lady. Randall and Edwin had followed their brother's lead, shifting, Edwin keeping close by Jed's side. Redford shot Anthony a sideways look, searching for stiffness or signs of pain. If he was feeling it, he was better at hiding the symptoms than Redford expected. Then again, he suspected adrenaline might be playing a part in that. Redford contemplated changing as well but decided against it-his shift would only take up time. Instead, he went to Victor and dug around in the pack for his gun, buckling the shoulder holster on.

"I don't know what you think you're going to do," Mallory was saying. "We can't go running after every wolf in trouble. Put the guns down."

"These people are getting attacked, possibly as we're all standing around, jerking each other off." Jed's voice was rising to a shout with every word. "Are you seriously telling me you're just going to let them die? Ten miles away, and you're going to what, shut your doors and pretend it isn't happening?"