Hunter's Trail (A Scarlett Bernard Novel) (28 page)

“She’s a lady,” I intoned.

As he pulled away from the curb, Jesse jerked his head back in the direction of the building we’d just left. “You think she can hex herself out of there?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’ve never met a witch yet who could do a spell with their thoughts only. And if she could, I’m guessing she would have done it by now. We’re waltzing off with her prize.”

He nodded, accepting that, but looked a little regretful. “She’ll be fine, Jesse,” I added. “That bitch forces animals to kill people. A day or two locked in a bathroom is the least we can do to her.”

“That’s true,” he said thoughtfully. Looking a little more cheerful, he headed toward the freeway.

We rode in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then he glanced over at me. “How did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“That she wasn’t going attack us.”

I considered the question for a moment. “The body language, for one thing. My mom was really interested in dog body language; she talked a lot about their cues.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t know if it would follow dog rules,” Jesse pointed out.

“That’s true,” I allowed. “But, look, the Luparii have to
use
her. That means they have to direct her to specific purposes. The Luparii haven’t lasted this long or prospered this much without being smart. And which is smarter, to have a psychotic cave troll that you can only let loose at your enemies, or to have something so well trained that you can point to five people out of a crowd of a hundred and say ‘kill
them
’?”

Jesse adjusted the rearview mirror so he could check on the bargest. “So you’re suggesting she’s more effective as a weapon than as a monster.”

“Yeah. And the Luparii built her that way.” I shook my head. “The bargest spell is probably the most complex I’ve ever heard of. It makes sense that they’d start with raw material they could control. If it were me, I’d keep a whole bunch of these dog-wolf hybrids trained and ready at all times, and just do the bargest spell when I knew of a werewolf threat somewhere.”

“That would save on resources.” Jesse thought it over for a few minutes. “So she may not even have had these powers for that long. If they did the spell just a few days ago, she might be as new to killing werewolves as we are to the Luparii.”

I nodded. Jesse turned his head and smiled at me briefly. “Sorry for doubting you,” he added.

I sniffed imperiously. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Chapter 43

We got away from the Huntington Park area as quickly as we could, pulling over at a fast food restaurant so I could call and update Will while Jesse ran in for caffeine replenishment. With the Luparii scout taken off the board, the whole situation got a lot less complicated, but we still had almost six hours until moonrise. Jesse thought we shouldn’t arrive at Griffith Park too early, for fear of the nova wolf spotting us as he arrived and taking off for another location. That left us with a lot of time to kill—and not a lot of places where we could take a 180-pound dog-monster.

Molly’s was out, as was Jesse’s tiny apartment. “What about taking her to Will’s house?” Jesse asked, taking a sip from his Diet Coke. “It’s secluded, and there’s parking.”

I shook my head. “That whole place stinks of werewolf. I don’t know how she’d react to that, especially if she wandered out of my radius.”

“Good point. Dog park?” Jesse suggested.

“No way. We have no idea how she’ll react to other dogs. She might eat them.”

“I guess that rules out taking her to my parents’ place,” Jesse mused. “I don’t want Max to be eaten.”

I thought it over for a moment. “Actuall
y . . .
maybe it’s worth a try? At least then we could see if she can pass for a dog in mixed company.” With her color and intelligence, I couldn’t imagine thinking the bargest was anything but a magical creature, but I was hoping that was only because I knew for a fact that magical creatures existed.

Jesse shot me a dubious look, but called his parents’ house anyway. They were both out, but his brother Noah was home, and willing to participate in a doggy friendship experiment. Or rather, a dog-bargest friendship experiment. Possibly the first of its kind. Jesse brightened a little. “If we’re stopping at my folks’, I have another idea too.”

When we pulled into the driveway at Jesse’s parents’ house, there was a man already standing on the front steps with Max on a leash beside him. My eyes bugged out a little at the sight of him. It was like Jesse had taken another Jesse and swallowed him. “Whoa,” I said in awe. “It’s Jesse version 2.0.”

“Can it, Bernard,” Jesse said good-naturedly. “That’s Noah.”

I took a closer look as he put the van in park and we got out. Noah stayed on the steps, standing calmly as Max started jumping straight up and down in the air, thrilled beyond measure by our presence. Noah had lighter skin, for sure, and wasn’t as handsome as Jesse. He had the exact same smile though, which I noticed as we walked toward the house and he stepped down from the steps, holding out his hand. I shook it while Max cheerfully head-butted my legs, delighted to have me within love-attack range. It hurt, and I winced. “Max,” Jesse reproached. Max turned to him with a wounded look and did his best to love my femur by wagging his whip tail against me instead. Not a big improvement. I patted him on the head anyway.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Scarlett,” Noah said playfully. “Jesse never, ever talks about you, so we know you must be special.”

“Noah,” Jesse warned, in the exact same tone he’d used on Max. His brother took him about as seriously as Max had.

“All right, where’s this monstrous dog?” Noah asked.

Jesse and I exchanged a look. “In the van,” I said simply. I looked down at my knee. “Jesse, can yo
u . . .
”

“Yep, I’ll get her. Hang on to Max’s leash,” he warned Noah. “She’
s . . .
big.”

Jesse went to the back doors of the van and cracked one door open a little. “What’s he got in there, King Kong?” Noah said under his breath. I smiled.

The bargest stepped daintily down from the van, hardly needing to hop at all with her long legs. Max went stock-still, his hackles rising. “Holy shit,” Noah whispered. I glanced at him. He was staring at the bargest with a mixture of wonder and respect, but no fear. “That,” he said with awe, “is the ugliest fucking dog I have ever seen.”

I laughed. Definitely Jesse’s brother.

Jesse took it slow, but she walked toward us with perfect calm, head up, eyes alert. I’d never seen such a self-possessed dog before; she seemed to be
controlling herself
, not because we’d told her to, but because it was her nature. As someone who has spent a lot of time around dogs, I found it almost spooky. Then she paused and rubbed her face against Jesse’s leg, trying to push the muzzle off, and I had to laugh a little.

“What kind of dog
is
she?” Noah asked me quietly.

“Technically, she’s a lurcher,” I replied. More or less honestly. Anytime you breed a sighthound, like a deerhound or an Irish wolfhound, with any non-sighthound breed, that’s called a lurcher. Don’t ask me why.

Max whined as Jesse and the bargest drew closer, shuffling his feet the same way she had in the crate. He didn’t know what to do. Jesse stopped when the bargest was just close enough for the two dogs to smell each other’s heads, and we let them do so. Then Max did something I never dreamed I’d see him do: he plopped on the ground and rolled over, belly in the air.

And that was that.

Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting on the kitchen table, watching the dogs chase each other around the house. I could have sold tickets to this view. Max, who was already a fast, intelligent, strong dog, was tearing around the house, playing with a creature that was twice his size, speed, and intelligence. Noah had wisely put all the breakables up high before we arrived, so while they thundered around, the cupboards rattled a little, but nothing actually broke.

After a few minutes, Noah vanished upstairs to take a phone call. Jesse and I had started out sitting on the couch, but had elected to move to higher ground for our own safety.

“Let’s change her name,” I said to Jesse, watching the two of them play. Max was panting heavily, but although I’d removed the bargest’s muzzle, she still seemed unfazed. “She’s not responding to how I pronounce Belle, and anyway, she should get to be called something a little less annoyingly ironic.”

“What are you gonna call her instead?” Jesse asked with a tiny smile. “Frenchie? Blackie? Inky?”

“Those are terrible bargest names,” I informed him. “Everybody knows that.”

A grin broke out on his face. “What, then?”

“Well, it should really be Hunter, but that’s a boy’s name, and I’d like to think she can escape the trappings of her upbringing.” I pursed my lips, watching the bargest lope after Max as he made joyous circles around the house. Where he was lively, excited, and rambunctious, she was more serious, grave. It was like all the natural liveliness of a big high-energy dog had been taken away from her through her training. What was left was restrained grace and dogged pursuit. Max was probably the fastest dog I’d ever seen, but the bargest looked like she could have run right over him whenever she felt like it. But she stayed glued to his heels instead.

“Shadow,” I said aloud.

When I turned to look at him, Jesse was watching me closely. “You’re not getting attached, are you?” he asked, not unkindly.

I shook my head. “I know she’ll have to be put down,” I told him quietly. “She’s too dangerous in the wrong hands.”

Jesse looked like he wanted to say something, but fell silent instead. After a moment, he said, “Shadow, huh? Well, I guess we have to call her something.”

I took a sip of my tea. “We should probably work on our plan for tonight.”

Jesse smiled. “Hang on, I gotta go get something.” He jumped up and left the room, and a second later I heard his footsteps on the staircase in the other room. Max and Shadow changed course to go investigate what he was doing, and I smiled as Shadow easily overtook Max, leaving him looking after her with a confused expression.

A few minutes later, Jesse and the canines came back down the stairs with a decoupage cardboard box, the kind my mother used to have for storing photos. “Take a look at this,” he said, climbing back onto the table and discarding the lid. “I think I might have some pictures of the spot Sharon Remus was talking about.” He began sifting through the photos.

“Why?” I asked. “Magical premonition?”

“That, or because my mom got a new camera a couple of years ago and I wanted to mess around with it.” After sorting through the box for a few minutes, he finally pulled a little wad of photos out of the box. “My mom is a chronic photo developer.” He leaned forward and began laying them out on the table in front of us. “Max is in most of these, but you can get a sense of the background.”

I leaned forward too, scanning the photos while he spoke. “See, this is the road that leads up to the Observatory—the tunnel’s right over there—and then just down the hill there’s this long clear path that goes to a circular picnic area,” Jesse said. He pointed to the relevant photo, which showed a seated Max panting happily in the middle of a clear-cut, sand-colored trail. The trail was like the landing on a staircase: on the left side, the hill rose steeply enough to create a natural wall, and the right side of the path, the hill dropped off completely. In the distance behind Max, the path seemed to dead-end at a big flat area with blurs scattered around. I squinted. Picnic tables.

“What’s behind the picnic area?” I asked. “Does the trail go off in another direction?”

“No, see, that’s why I think this is the spot,” Jesse said excitedly. “That picnic area is a big flat circle, and behind it there’s nothing—the ground drops off to form a cliff. There’s this short winding path that goes for a little ways below it, kind of like a narrow bridle path, but with rocks and brush everywhere. You’d basically have to be a mountain goat to navigate it in the dark.”

“Or a werewolf,” I concluded.

“Right. But it’s a fantastic overlook; you can see the whole city from there.” He raised his eyebrows significantly.

“So you think Remus will hide on the bridle path, for lack of a better term, waiting for someone to come see the pretty view, and then pick them off?” I said skeptically. “How can he be sure anyone will show?”

Jesse shrugged. “I’ve never been up there at night, but it makes sense. The Observatory’s right there. If the parking lot is full, people have to park all the way down the road, almost to the picnic area.” As he spoke he twisted around to the counter and pulled a pad of paper out of the stack of clutter. He grabbed a pencil too and began sketching as he spoke. “Even if he doesn’t stay in the picnic area, he could creep all the way to the road to attack people and drag them back down the bridle path, one at a time. Nobody would think to look there at nighttime, and if anyone chases him toward the picnic tables, he can disappear.”

He turned the paper toward me. It was a rough map of the area: a wide path in the foreground leading into a big circle, with the wiggly little bridle path on the other side. I studied it. “I don’t know anything about tactics,” I said slowly, touching the spot on Jesse’s map where the wide path met the road. “But he could hide here, if there are bushes or shadows that can hide him, and then he’s got a perfect trap. Some dumbass brings his girlfriend to the picnic area to see the romantic view, and then Remus attacks, trapping them in the picnic area.” I traced the hypothetical dumbass’s route on the paper while Jesse looked on, nodding approvingly.

“That’s how I see it too,” Jesse confirmed. “But we’ve got two advantages. One is the bargest, obviously. But the other advantage is that, from what I understand, there’s no reason for Henry to know anything about a null.”

I tilted my head, considering. He was right—the whole reason Henry had become a nova was because he’d been abandoned. He could theoretically connect me to suddenly feeling human again outside of Will’s house, but he’d have no idea that I would force a change if he were in wolf form. There was no reason for him to know anything about the Old World. “Or about the bargest, for that matter. You’re thinking we should trip the trap.”

Jesse stood and held out his hand with a flourish. “Scarlett,” he said dramatically, “I have a romantic view you should see.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dumbass.”

His smile faded. “We could use some backup with this, though. Is there anyone you think would help?”

I leaned back on my hands, considering. The vampires wouldn’t get involved without Dashiell’s permission and a damn good reason why they should care, and I wasn’t sure I could provide either in time. The werewolves were out, obviously, because they’d be spending the full moon in the national park behind Will’s. That left one avenue. I got out my phone.

“This is Kirsten,” the witch said on the first ring. “What’s up, Scarlett?”

“Hey,” I began. “I’m looking for some help here.” I explained the plan to her: that we take the bargest and bring it to where we thought the nova wolf would be attacking that night. “Can you and some of your witches help us out?” I asked hopefully. “Maybe just help us look for the nova wolf in the park, be on hand in case there’s trouble?”

There was a long silence on the line. “Kirsten?” I asked uncertainly.

“I’m here.” She sighed. “It’s a good plan, Scarlett—bold, but good—but I don’t think I can help you.”

“What?” I said, surprised. Of the three Old World leaders, Kirsten is the only one I would peg as a team player. “Why not?”

“The Luparii,” she explained. “Witches have heard half a millenium’s worth of stories about Luparii boogeymen. I doubt you could find a single one of them willing to mess with their property.”

I remembered what she’d said at the meeting, that the Luparii were like an ex-con relative you avoided. “What about you?” I asked. “You’re not afraid, right?”

“It’s not that,” she said reluctantly. “I’d be willing to go up against them on my own, but everything I do can reflect back on the witches. If they find out a witch in LA crossed them, it’s not just me they’ll come after. It’s all of us.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” I asked in a small voice. My plan had seemed solid only a few minutes ago, but now the thought of pissing off the Luparii was starting to scare me too.

“Perhap
s . . . 
,” Kirsten said thoughtfully. “You think the nova wolf is going to camp out in a specific part of the park?”

“Yeah.” I explained the path leading into the picnic area.