Pack or Prey (Wolfblooded book 1)

Chapter 13, Part 2

I stood off to the side of my car, bent at the waist with hands propped on my knees to keep me from falling face first, and waited out the wave of heaves that followed. My stomach clenched threateningly, in rapid succession, trying to force out food that was no longer there. When I thought I might be safe enough to stand up again, the smell would hitch a ride on the light breeze and start it all over again. It was sickly sweet, and I remembered it was the same as in my dream. The smell of blood and carnage.

"Jesus..." Jackson stared down at the mess in my trunk and grabbed at the red cloth, taking a look further under it. Good for him. Personally, I didn't care to know how much worse it got.

"And you're sure this wasn't here earlier? You didn't smell anything strange when you were coming to work?"

"I think I would remember the smell of a deer rotting in my trunk, Jackson." Choking back the retching blunted the harsh tone my voice. "Just get rid of it."

"Who the hell would put a dead deer in your trunk?"

My affirmation that it couldn't have been Frank shattered with Jackson's question. Slashing tires? No. Slashing tires so I discovered the gruesome gift in my trunk? Yes, I would have to say that was very Frank, which meant he, or one of his lackeys, had been here while I was working. They had been that close.

Out loud I said, "I don't know. Someone with a sick and disturbed sense of humor?"

I could feel his stare on my back. He wasn't buying it, but he wasn't pressing me for the answer either. I turned and glanced over my shoulder to find him shaking his head, but he dropped it. I moved to the passenger side and opened the door to dig some mints out of my bag, hoping to mask the residual taste of vomit.

As I dug in the hopelessly large bag, I felt the car lift slightly on its frame and knew Jackson had lifted the animal out of the car. I decided to stay right there, hunkered inside the Toyota, until he managed to drop the deer off in the surrounding wooded area. I didn't think I could bear seeing the mutilated carcass again. It reminded me too much of the dream I had a while back. Its throat was torn out, its stomach eviscerated, just like mine had been in the nightmare. Maybe I was projecting, but I did not want to look at it again.

After about ten minutes, I heard Jackson's shit-kickers approaching again. I felt bad that the poor thing had to be dumped so uncaringly in the woods but it was its natural habitat, and I needed it as far away from me as possible.

"Harley, check this out."

I almost told him no. Hell no. I did not want to see any more. Instead I bravely peeked my head out of the open passenger door and looked down the length of the car to find Jackson carrying the red cloth the deer had been wrapped in.

"Oh God, Jackson! Why didn't you just leave it on that thing? It's all covered in blood and gore and... Bambi bits."

"Just look at it, girl. Damn."

I groaned, but did as I was told. He held the cloth up at its full length, just at his sternum, and used one hand to lift the top up. What he held was not just some cut of fabric, as I thought, but a cloak. An honest to God red winter cloak complete with hood. It looked like something Little Red Riding Hood would wear. My throat suddenly went dry.

"Why the fuck would they wrap it in this?" he asked, his steely eyes staring at me and swimming with as much confusion as I felt.

I stared at the cloak as it hung from his hands, my veins icing over from the fear creeping over me. There was something else about it. Something off about the way the fabric looked in the center of the back. I stood up and turned my body towards it, letting the light from the street hit it at another angle. There was a pattern to it, something that stood out with straighter lines beside the smudges and dampness of the blood. As my eyes followed those unnatural lines of blood I felt my heart nearly stop.