Hellhound (Supernatural #1)

17: Not One of Us

Innocent, adjective.

1. Free from legal or specific wrong; guiltless.
2. Not involving evil intent or motive.

***

The next morning, before first period, I was taking my books out of my locker while Tate was waiting for me. Nothing new there. Except when he had seen Devin, he was waved him over and the soccer player now also stood a few feet away from my locker. What I found hard to believe was that people were wondering about Tate and me, but the fact that I seemed to be around Devin a lot as well didn't baffle them. No, that was perfectly okay. I rolled my eyes mentally to myself.

"So you found them?" Devin asked, his voice full of disbelief yet full of hope.

"Not exactly, but we're pretty sure of where they are hiding them." Tate had told him about his latest kill, as well as the club where we thought the supernaturals might be.

"Why in a club though?"

That was a question that had already come up the night before. That didn't mean we had an answer to give him. Maybe the club was a front for some secret government organization. As if. Maybe it was a front for a superheroes lair, like in Arrow. Not very likely either. It could also be a front for a criminal organization. More likely, considering kidnappings. It could be that the club itself had nothing to do with anything, it just happened to be sitting right on top of - or below - the supernaturals. So really, the club could be inconsequential.

"Don't know. I thought we could go and check out the club, though," Tate suggested. That was news to me. "I would like you to come along; maybe we can pick up on something, either a scent or an energy trail. Sawyer can come along to and be the distraction in case we have an opportunity to go snooping." He smirked at me. I only glared. "Are you telling me you don't want to come along?" He sounded genuinely surprised, which I could understand. It wasn't that I didn't want to come along while he was 'working', I would love nothing more than to be useful. Because, let's face it, organizing their paperwork wasn't exactly being useful. But tagging along only to be the distraction? Tagging along to a club only to be the distraction? Thanks but no thanks. "Oh come on, Sawyer, don't chicken out now."

"I'm not chickening out," I said, jabbing his arm as if it would emphasize my point, "I am choosing to not go to a club."

"That's the problem? The club? You are such a good girl, aren't you?"

"Well we can't all go around killing people at night; there wouldn't be anyone left to kill."

Tate was grinning. He seemed to enjoy arguing with me, at least for fun, because the second I was really mad, he didn't enjoy it as much anymore. I slammed my locker shut and watched the herd of cheerleaders walking by; some of them said hi to Devin and Tate, giving me a smile, some didn't notice us, and some did notice us but ignored us. With them came a toxic cloud of too much perfume that almost had me coughing. I fanned the air in front of me.

"Do you smell that?" Devin suddenly asked. Then, discreetly but not discreetly enough, he sniffed the air. I pulled a face at Tate who shrugged with a grin and sniffed the air as well. I wasn't even going to try that; I didn't have an enhanced nose like they had.

"All I smell is too much perfume."

"That, and a bunch of different soaps and deodorants," Tate added.

"I smell blood," Devin whispered. Glancing around, still sniffing the air as discreetly as possible, he frowned. He must not be able to tell where the smell was coming from and it bothered him.