The Night Has Claws (Book Two) EXCERPTS ONLY

3. HOW TO SAVE A LIFE

I tear through my backpack tossing out books and pens. Hope rises at the sight of something bright yellow, but it turns out to be a highlighter. There it is! It’s in the EpiPen that Madison left with me for just such an occasion, in the front pouch where she had placed it for easy access. By this point Arden has gone horribly still and I’m afraid I might be too late. Removing the cap, I inject the antivenin into his arm, close to the bite mark, then I step back, hoping, waiting, anticipating what will happen next. I hang my hope on his next movement. If he does nothing it will mean I’ve killed him.

Suddenly realizing I’m naked, I slip back into my jeans. I have to be honest with myself and consider the worst-case scenario ― what needs to be done if he doesn’t pull through. I’ll have to bury him in the same spot where we found him, I suppose. The grave is in the woods near the wolf exhibit of the zoo at Vincennes Park. He might like to be close to them even if they aren’t wild. I walk over to the nightstand, touching the copper pennies, considering whether I’ll take them with me. I’m not a superstitious person but maybe I should be. Arden takes in a long shuddering breath that makes me jump. He coughs and splutters. Is this it? Are these his final moments? His good hand grabs at the sheets, pulling them toward him. And then he raises his head, glaring with all the hate he has reserved for me.

“Why ... can’t ... you let me ... die?”

I have to choke back my relief. We stare at each other for a long while. As I pocket the copper pennies, I try not to shake. A mix of relief and anger swirls through me. Arden is the first to break his gaze. He lays his head down, closing his eyes, probably exhausted.

“I’m a werewolf, Arden,” I tell him, suppressing emotion, “not a grim reaper.”

Striding out and slamming the door behind me, I make it into the living room before letting out a howl of frustration. I’d leave right away but I’m too riled up and know that’s not a good idea. I can’t bear to have him judging me with those amber eyes. And for what? For not letting him die? I wish there was something in the room I could throw. Instead, I kick at the Persian rug in the middle of the floor. The tassels wind up getting caught on my bare toes so I flail about until I slip up and fall flat on my ass. Sitting there on the verge of screaming and/or punching out at something, I sense my mood isn’t just due to the werewolf adrenaline flowing through my veins in the aftermath of what happened with Arden. I can feel hunger gnawing at me and it hits me that I haven’t actually eaten since the laundromat yesterday afternoon. I push myself up off the floor and rummage through the kitchen. One thing I’ve learned about werewolves is that they have tendencies toward a raw food diet, which means I’m out of luck in my search for anything processed. In the fridge there’s some kind of vegetation that’s seen better days but aside from that there’s just a whole skinned rabbit staring at me like something out of a horror movie. I’m hungry enough that I consider cooking it. How, though, is the question. I’d have to Google it. As I make my way to my bedroom for my laptop, there’s a knock on the door.

Lately, I have misgivings about who’s on the other side in these scenarios. For the past few months it’s always been a werewolf. Everybody I know in the city is one. Sure enough, staring back at me through the peephole is Roul. I open the door, taking Arden’s usual protective stance within the frame while Roul stands expressionless before me. From front on he’s a paradox. He wears a deep blue coat over a gray three-piece suit and his hair is combed neatly to the side. Half his face is covered by a tattoo of a snarling wolf’s head that I know descends below the collar of his dress shirt to depict the rest of the animal along his entire right side. From this point of view he reminds me of Two-Face from Batman, only with Roul what you see is what you get. There’s no unstable lunatic struggling for supremacy within him. At least, not that I’ve seen.