Meet Amber, a teenage girl struggling with the death of her father, an overstressed mother- and lycanthropy. All she wants is for her life to go back to normal, but a magical corporation has lost a valuable test subject and they believe Amber will b...
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Chapter Twenty Two
From where the Swag Pag lived, the shopping mall should have been a twenty minute drive away. When D.K. swerved into a parking spot less than five minutes after we'd left the house, I reached past Kimberly to open the door and almost pushed her through it so I could get out. I stood, leaning against the car for a few seconds, my knees threatening to give out under me, until I felt like I had regained my balance. Poor Kimberly was staring vacantly at the car, as if it were yet another monster I'd introduced her to, looking as if she were about to throw up.
"Get a move on!" D.K. commanded us, getting out of the car and immediately making for the entrance. Kaylie shoved me out of her way so she could walk next to D.K., and Tyler followed behind them wordlessly.
"Come on," I said to Kimberly. "We have to go with them."
"I don't want to go with them," she protested. "I don't like them."
"I don't either," I agreed. I wanted to follow that up with an encouraging comment about how things would get better soon, but I'd had enough of lying to her. She bit her lip, and for a second I thought she was about to cry, but then she reached out and took my hand again. As I followed the Swag Pag into the mall, I couldn't help but feel a little bit of hope. This time, Kimberly had taken the initiative in holding my hand.
I don't like them, she had said. I wasn't going to fool myself into thinking that she liked me, but it was encouraging to know that she liked the Swag Pag even less.
D.K. made his way through the mall like he owned the place, one arm wrapped around Kaylie's shoulders while unashamedly pushing people out his way when they got too close with the other.
"Skinnies," I heard him mutter, followed by a few other words I'm not willing to repeat. "Always on my turf. Ain't got no freakin' respect."
It took me a minute to realize that by "skinnies," he meant the humans. I wasn't sure what he meant by "his turf." It was a public mall, not an exclusive werewolf club. Still, I was coming to realize that it didn't take much to convince D.K. that something belonged to him- and that if it didn't, it should.
The food court was bustling with people, even this early in the morning. I couldn't help but shy away from them as much as I could without falling away from the pack. They're just normal people, I kept telling myself. None of them are wizards, or demons, or... whatever the heck else might be after me. I couldn't quite make myself believe it. Only a couple of the restaurants were open, the ones that served breakfast, and the tantalizing scent of food drifted into my nose, reminding me that I hadn't had anything to eat in a long time. D.K. stopped to scan the crowd for a few seconds before choosing a table as far away from everybody else as he could get.
"Tyler," he said once he was lounging comfortably in the wiry chair, "go get me something to eat, since somebody didn't get my breakfast made in time." He shot me an acidic glare when he said this, and I submissively looked away.
