Teen She-Wolf

Chapter 8 - I See The Light And The Heat In Your Eyes

***DEREK***

Skylar, Scott, and I stick it out as long as we can when Deucalion's remaining goons ambush us on the edge of the woods. Scott, for his part, pushes Lydia, Isaac, and Allison out of the circle that's formed around us, and then yells, "Get to the lookout! We'll meet you there in fifteen minutes!"

"Don't make promises you can't keep," I say in an undertone. Like this one - naturally, the three of us quickly find ourselves subdued. Damn, these Alpha Pack werewolves are nothing to sneeze at.

One of the Alphas muscles us into the back of a van - how typical. Then, once we're all inside, he produces several sets of handcuffs, one for each of us.

"Aww, and they're not even the fuzzy kind," I say, rolling my eyes. "What kind of S&M orgy are you guys planning, huh?"

The Alpha growls at me, but otherwise gives no response.

Before long, we arrive at an unexpected destination - my loft. There, they bring us upstairs to the main floor, right in front of the big window overlooking the town, and leave us alone - presumably to await the arrival of their master.

I turn around and gaze through the window for a second. It's late afternoon, coming on five o'clock, I think. Because the window has a western exposure, that means the sun really streams through it at this time of day. I look to my left, where Skylar sits. She's mostly protected by her hoodie, but her hands are fully exposed to the sun. Leaning back, I see them starting to blister ever so slightly.

"Didn't you say you escaped from a locked coffin once?" I ask her.

"Oh, this is nothing," Skylar says in a tight voice. "The only problem is...my lock-picking kit is in my front pocket."

I tilt my head as I look more closely at the kangaroo-like pouch in the front of her hoodie. Sure enough, I see a small bulge in there, in the shape of what might be a small tin box. I cross in front of her and clumsily stick my hand as far into her pocket as I can get it with the cuffs still on. Yep, there it is - a little tin box. Now all I have to do is get a good hold on it, preferably with two fingers - and I've got it.

"Open it," Skylar says. I obey her orders as best I can. It's clumsy work, but I soon pop the box open. As I do so, I smell a faint tang of metal - and also a stronger mint scent. "Wait a minute..." I mutter. "Is this an Altoids tin?"

"'God save the Queen,'" Skylar says, quoting a slogan I remember from one of the first Altoids ads they ever had around here. "'We'll take care of her breath.'"

"Uh...okay then." I creep around her and position myself so our backs are turned to each other.

"You're not gonna try and pick the lock yourself, are you?" she asks.

"Unless you're the sort of fearless daredevil who can dislocate her thumbs and Houdini her way out of those cuffs," I say, "let me help you. Scott, keep an eye on the door. If you hear anyone coming, let me know."

"Won't you want me to look at the cuffs?" Scott suggests. "Someone's gotta see what you're doing."

I grit my teeth. "Fine, but keep your ears open. And your nose, if yours is sharp enough to smell Deucalion."

"You could do with keeping your ears open too, couldn't you?" Skylar asks.

I carefully pick a hairpin out of the tin, which I leave on the ground before sticking the pin into Skylar's handcuff lock. Or, at least, trying to. "A little more to the left," Scott says. "Uh...no, the right. Your right."

I move the pin to my right, and hear it click as it falls into place in the lock. Good. Now I just have to wiggle it around until I can - another click. There we go. I've almost got it. This is so much more complicated than I'm making it sound. I swear, I'm not built for this kind of fine-motor-skill work.