Hunted

by Corinder

The arrival of two newly created foreign female werewolves in New York, perused by men with only the name 'Masters', alerts the pack to a new threat. One that seems to be hidden, waiting, hunting... Completed! In Editing :B

1. The Hunted

New York

I ran. Breathing fast and uncontrolled, eyes wild with fear, shoving through crowds of people, ran along the side walks, ignoring the bright lights of the city, of the shiny giant TV screens, ignored it all. Crowds of people, tourists, loud Americans, kids bored, tour groups, swore at me, or ducked out of the way, but with about as much interest in me as they might have had in a fly darting past.

Any other time I might have stopped and joined in with the tourists gaping at the famous city, might have found out what was so special about this place for so many to be gathered here, taken photos, posted updates on facebook or twitter about it as I wandered along. Laughed. Made friends. Tried some of the food offered to the cash filled tourists or to the savvy locals that knew how to get a cheaper and better feed than the over hyped hot dog stall offered.

The smell of the food, of coffee, of meals, it filled my senses. Made me so hungry. I was starving. Never, never in my life, had I felt so damn hungry. My stomach was twisting in hungry painful jumps.

Panic overrode the hunger though. It had for days. Four days, I assumed, or maybe five. Days and nights seemed to be irrelevant at the moment.

"Hey!" A swear, a hand gesture, as I shoved past a crowd. Heart pounding. I couldn't stand being around the crowds for much longer. Why had I even come onto the crowded streets? Why was I even here? I hated cities.

The crowds pushed against me, shoving me, but I shoved harder. Strong. Too strong. I had to tone it down, some logical voice trying to urge me to quieten, I had to calm down. Walk.

I glanced backwards as I paused. Breathed hard. Heart pounding, fear driving adrenaline through every limb of my body. I was in agony, I suspected, but I couldn't think about that. Any wounds I had, any injuries, the hunger, they didn't matter. What mattered was the hunter. Chasing me.

I didn't see him, the hunter, but I could smell him. He wasn't running, like I was, but he wasn't slow either. The hunt was getting to him. I could hear the oaths, from the same people I'd probably just barrelled into, as his instinct to hunt overrode his good sense.

Run, my own pleaded, run. Why have you stopped? Run!

I ran.

Whatever human logic had pushed me into a crowd for safety was squashed below something else now, animal instinct, the instinct of a wounded animal trying to escape the predator hunting them. Run. Hide. Move!

I ran harder, skidding around a corner, down a quieter street that had less pedestrians and traffic, attracted to the smell and lure of the forest somewhere. I should run to that forest, run into it, and hunt in it. Hunt the hunter. Hide. Fight to the death. Go to the forest.

Some part of my mind seemed to wake up then, snapping into attention, a stubborn human voice that refused to allow the other side of me to take over yet. Forest, it asked, what forest? In a city? In New York? It was that giant garden, not a forest, and not a safe place. Stay in control, I urged myself. I was loosing it. Almost giving into the fear.

I had to hide somewhere.

But where? Doors. Closed doors. Cafes. Shops, all closed, not surprising as it was two in the morning. Whatever pedestrians had been on that busy street out there were gone now. Even as I ran, they were fading away, less people on the streets, just the occasional traffic. I was running into an area that was domestic. Apartment buildings.

I stopped again, sliding into the empty entrance of a building, the door locked and refusing me entrance. That was okay. I dug myself into the edge of the doorway. Listened.

The hunter had tracked me for days with the stubbornness of one who knew that he either caught his prey or suffer the punishment. A werewolf, I knew from the scent he'd left as he'd tried to follow us, probably one that was young and trying to prove himself. Hired by my owner. My Master. Sent to go and collect the two naughty pets that'd run away. The only punishment fit for failure was death, as far as that man who claimed to own me was concerned, and this werewolf had been tracking us stubbornly from the moment he'd picked up the trail here in New York.

I didn't hear anything now though, nothing that would be him, just the squeak of rats, the distant voices and traffic faint in my sensitive ears, but I wasn't fooled. He wouldn't have lost me. He had gone quiet again. Stalking. No witnesses around, no one to look at him strangely, he was probably tiptoeing... taking his time... aware exactly of where my scent ended and where I was trying to hide.

A car drove past. Slowed at the apartment building, bright headlights on me for a brief second, making my heart suddenly start to hammer again in a crazy panicked beat. I felt like a wounded wild animal, trapped, exposed. Hunted. The car turned nearby, down an alleyway, and it seemed like no one had noticed me. Why would they? I was pressed so hard against the edge of the door that my arm had gone white and numb. My hip ached, my back bled, I could smell the blood, smell it even from here. Must have moved wrong. Opened up one of the wounds back there. It was not a good sign.

He would find me if he could smell the blood.

Why have you stopped? That voice urged me, that voice that was fear and instinct only, making my skin prickle. Run!

I twitched and moved, unable to resist, sliding across the edge of the apartment building instead of returning to the footpath. There was a small street down the side of it, for deliveries maybe, and another smaller dark doorway. Rain started to fall, very sudden, very cold, it startled me, the rain quick to soak hair and thin clothing. It was winter here in America. Winter, freezing, but there wasn't time or a chance to find clothing better than what I had.

Feet. Not my feet. I froze. Head twisting. The smell of wolf in my nostrils. I felt the prickle increase in my skin.

No, I urged myself, calm down. Stay in control. You only made it this far because you could control this. The rain is a good thing.

I used the rain. Let it soak me, let it wash away my smell, my blood, stepping slowly though the alleyway with my bare feet as soft as I could manage. Ignored the smell of rot from the bins, the squeak of rats, the rubber of tires. I heard voices nearby. Men and the rumble of a car. No, no car, it was suddenly turned off.

I understood, then, gazing down the alleyway. It was also the entrance to an underground parking lot. It must have served as the place for the residents of the building to park. There was a garage door, slowly lowering now, but if I hurried...

I skidded forward, almost slipping in the puddles, somehow managing to slide through it just before it closed.

What have you done? Panic, again, so much panic. The wounded animal in me screamed. We're trapped.

Human voices again. No, I made myself stop, scolding myself, making myself rephrase that. Men. Not humans. I was human. I was staying human. Stay in control, Anne.

There was the sound of feet outside. My heart stopped, I slid sideways, away from the garage door's windows, trying to calm my breathing.

The hunter was outside. I could smell him, hear his frustrated oath as he followed the trail to the garage door. At two in the morning, he probably wouldn't be as lucky as I was to see a car, at least not for a few hours.

But then, I was trapped, and he was free.

"Miss?" A hu- no, a man's voice.

My head spun around, almost growling, but I somehow managed to hold it in, swallow it down.

Two men, brothers maybe, both looking concerned.

"Did you need some help?" The older one spoke up. The younger one just looked stunned.

I suddenly could see it, from their eyes, a soggy girl, wild eyed, face white with terror. I had to calm down.

"I'm okay."

They didn't seem to believe it. Eyes were going beyond me to outside.

"Is that man bothering you?" The older man asked, his eyes going to the wall, almost exactly where the feet were stepping on wet ground.

I didn't ask how they knew about a man. "No. I'm really okay."

It had about as much affect on them as my first reply. They frowned deeper. Their eyes had gone to the door, the doorway I'd hid in just a minute before, as the sound of the door handle filled the room.

It opened.

"I thought that was supposed to stay locked." The older man muttered. "Miss, relax, we'll handle him. What apartment is yours?"

He hadn't finished his question before I was gone, running, shoving both men out of the way, as the hunter came in. Humans, the animal screamed. Rage. So much terror and rage. The hunter caught sight of me. He ignored the men. I didn't have to look backwards to know that.

I suspected he'd kill them, afterwords, but his job wasn't to clean up after his mess. It was to get me, and Pav, safe and unharmed, and restrained back to our Masters. Only I would rather die than go back, die than be caged again, or to wear that collar. Be his pet. It wasn't me that I was worried about. If Pav was caught, if she was taken back, she might cave. Submit. Be tamed. I couldn't allow it. She was my responsibility now.

I ran. He wasn't far away, I could hear him, smell the wolf in him, a growl on his heavy breathing as I skidded through cars, setting alarms off, jarring both of our sensitive ears with their shrill sounds.

The men would run, maybe, run to call the police. That wasn't the first time it'd happened. Twice already, since we'd arrived in New York, the police had been called and we'd had to run. It had been a great way to get away in the confusion. The hunter wasn't allowed to call much attention to himself, probably, because he'd always vanished when the police turned up. Backed off for the night.

But here, in this underground lot, if I wanted to get out, I'd have to fight. Security would keep us away from the apartments or the stairwell, probably, and I'd have to get past him to get to the door he'd just entered in.

I turned around, skidding, nearly loosing control as I spun fast. The hunter stared at me, skidding as well, dark green eyes boring into mine with the look of a predator startled by a prey turning on him.

He growled, only stunned a second, and lunged. The glint of silver in his hand, a handcuff, or was it a knife? Or a gun?

I skidded sideways, human mind trying to know what he held, animal instincts ignoring it. It was a weapon, it decided, no matter what it was. My back screamed in pain as it was twisted. A hand, clawing onto me, trying to grab hold. My back against a four wheel drive. Protecting the wounds.

I was not going to stay in control much longer.

Run, run away, don't fight! That was the human mind now. The animal mind wanted to fight now, wanted to kill him, wanted to rip him up, shred him.

My teeth, still human, sunk into the hand grasping onto my arm. He yelled, growled, the silver thing lifting up to point at me. It was a gun.

A dark shape knocked him down, coming from across the four wheel drive beside us, a human shape trying to pin him down. Another growl, alien to my memory, another scent. Another werewolf? There was the whoosh of something flying past my torso, my head twisting to follow it, seeing a dart harmlessly ping against the white side of the four wheel drive and onto the concrete.

I looked back, trying to understand, too panicked to put it together with the human logic that I valued so much. Human on hunter. No. Werewolf on werewolf hunter. The two smells were impossible to mistake, even in this state I was in, the growls, grunts, as the two tried to wrestle, tried to overpower each other.

Another shape was there suddenly, pinning the hunter down, a sudden snap, and the hunter went still. Very still.

The men stood up. The men, who had been trying to talk to me before, staring at me warily. Hands up, palms up, submissive gesture. I tensed, soft growl in my throat, backing against the cold metal of the four wheel drive. Hands tensing into claws. Werewolves. Not safe. Fight. Or run. I couldn't tell.

"Shh..." One of them was saying, no words, just a sound that might have been soothing. Maybe it was. I couldn't tell. "I'm not going to harm you. Stay calm."

"What's your name?" The older man asked, glancing sideways at the younger one, staying still.

Odd questions and statements. Different from before.

It seemed to help bring back some sense of my human self though, trying to understand their questions, trying to remember a human name that was feeling more and more removed from the wounded animal I felt I was. The growl, still in my throat, fading.

"I...Anne." It sounded strange. A name that I had connections to but still felt removed from.

"Where are you from? Where's your accent from?"

Smells of wattle. Dirt. Water. Jasmine, growing along the fence beside my driveway, and the sudden bright white of wild cockatoos as I watched them consume every last young apple on the tree. Laughter. Calming memories. Memories from a long time before. I answered, voice raw, strained. "Australia. I'm from Australia."

My breathing was slowing, heart relaxing. They didn't move. Stayed there, hands out, careful, but not threatening. Skin didn't itch now. Control slipping back.

My eyes darted to the still body of the hunter, the dart gun still clasped in his hand.

"Is he dead?"

A nod from one of them.

"Good." I sighed, shuddering with relief, slipping down as my legs gave way. Maybe they were hunters, maybe this was a clever game, but I couldn't run. Couldn't move. My hand slid over the dart, slowly, concealing it. If I guessed right, it'd have enough shit in it to put them both to sleep for a long time. "Are you from my owner?"

They frowned, genuine surprise in their face, glancing at each other. The slightly older man was the one to answer, kneeling down, so that his head was the same level as mine. "Owner? No. I'm Antonio. This is Nick. I don't know what owner you're talking about."

I nodded. Breathed out again, another slow sigh, tension slipping from my muscles. I felt exhausted. If they were hunters, they wouldn't bother lying about that, it was their pride to obey him. My owner. The Alpha. They would trip over each other to state what rank they were. So that I could tell him later.

And if they were hunters, they wouldn't kill that hunter, he was too young. Too low down in the ranks. No one would bother killing him to get ahead- he was about as behind as it could get.

"We should get the body out of here." Nick muttered, eyes still fixed on me, but his attention on the dead hunter.

"I'll have to do it. Fuck. Jeremy will need to know. This wasn't how we planned to do it."

I blinked, staring from the hunter back to the kneeling man. "Planned on doing it?"

"We've been watching him since he came in. Killed a few people in the gardens. We were going to take care of it tonight." Antonio was standing, tugging a phone out of his pocket, glancing up and down the empty parking lot to check that no one was around. His eyes fell back down to me, as if he couldn't quite believe I was there, adding, "He'll want to know about you too."

"What?"

"We'll have to explain somewhere else, Anne, I'm sorry. Nick..."

Nick blinked. Stopped staring. His eyes snapped to Antonio, and then back to me, as if he was snapping out of some deep thought.

"I'll take her upstairs."

"Wait... I can't go with you. I have to go back to Pav. She'll be worried."

"Who's Pav?"

"My friend. He was chasing her too. I was leading him away."

"I'll get her. What's her address?" Antonio was punching away at his phone's screen, eyes focused on it, attention on me.

I was about to protest, about to say that she wouldn't trust them, but I knew it wasn't true. If a couple of strange werewolves showed up, she'd go with them. Captivity had broken her. The only reason she was here, running away, was because I made her run.

"We were hiding between ..." I rattled off street names, shops, unable to figure out the address. We'd moved around the city so often that it was difficult to keep up with official addresses. It made the younger one, Nick, flinch slightly again as his eyes didn't leave mine.

"What does she look like?"

"Indian. Dark hair. Blue-green eyes though, really pale skin, you'll know it's her when you see her eyes. She smells like me too." In other words, she smelt like a wolf, and if I wasn't going mad, if these were werewolves, then they'd easily pick her out when they got there. It was strange, to suddenly trust some strangers, but I was exhausted. Starving. My back was red, infected, the wounds opening over and over, and I hadn't slept since we'd started to run. I wasn't quite ready to be held captive again, exactly, but I couldn't run any more. I was tired.

"She smells like you?"

"You know. Like me."

There was another startled expression, as their eyes met, understanding in both faces. And shock. Why so shocked?

"I'll find your friend. Go upstairs with Nick. He'll call Jeremy and Elena." Antonio's eyes were on Nick, who nodded, jaw tightening. Some unspoken communication was passing between them as I watched.

The name Elena echoed through my mind, searching for something to connect with, and I hesitated. I had heard her name, repeated over and over, heard my Master talk about her, heard the other pack members discuss her, even heard arguments over who'd be the one to own her. And how to deal with the pack that protected her. "Elena Michaels?"

Both eyes were on me suddenly, surprised, nodding.

"Yes. Have you met her?"

"No... my master wanted to own her. Are you her pack?"

Antonio seemed to remember where we were and stiffened. Glanced around again.

"Yes, we're her pack. But this isn't the place. We have to get moving."

A hand was offered, Antonio's hand, and I accepted it only because I suspected I couldn't stand up. I shuddered, feeling the ground sway, and a hand was clamped onto my shoulder. Then, suddenly, arms were lifting me up off the ground, just as I felt the world go sideways.

"I'm ..."

"Bleeding all over the place." That was the other man, Nick, holding with a kind of stubbornness as I tried to wriggle. "I'll meet you upstairs, Dad."

No answer, just their eyes meeting again.

Nick was moving away then, a quick pace towards the lifts at the edge of the parking lot, shifting me so he could tug an electronic key out of one of the pockets. He looked good. Maybe they'd gone nightclubbing, or something, he could have easily passed as someone who'd come back from one. Ruffled hair. Tired face. Sweaty, but no chemical scents, just the natural smell he seemed to have. The smell of wolf, mixed with human, which gave him away in an instant.

We were waiting for the lift when he asked, without looking down, "Did he do that to your back?"

I was about to answer when I realised he meant the dead hunter. I shook my head. That made the world sway again, dizziness, I felt exhausted. So tired. Hand clenching around something that was pricking me. I lifted my hand, gazing down at what it was, and remembered that I'd picked up the dart. Woops.

"My owner did that. ...I'm going to have to be very rude, it seems, and fall asleep." I muttered. Tried to joke. It just sounded silly. I was too tired to think of a better way to make someone laugh.

Nick didn't answer, except for a sharp inhale of breath as I uttered the word 'master', until we were in a lift, then he glanced down at the small dart in my hand, the trickle of blood out of a tiny scratch.

"What is that?"

"Dart." I was answering, the exhaustion filling mind, body, limbs going heavy, eyes shutting.

Stillness took over.

I dreamed.

Twisting bloody images of the hunter, following, stalking, but his neck broken. Eyes dead. Still following. Gun, with a thousand darts, impossible to miss. The men downstairs, Antonio and Nick, their faces twisting into the faces of the hunter. Pav, caught, bleeding, or meekly walking back with the hunter. Saying she'd worked with him the whole time. My name repeated over and over and over. Not Anne. The name I'd rejected.

It made no sense, none of it, and I writhed, trying to escape, always running, always hurting, so damn hungry.

The smell of food woke me. Good food, pancakes, honey, some kind of meat, and the soft voices. I felt stiff, like all my limbs had stopped flexing properly, but it was the smell of food that overrode anything else.

Then it suddenly became strong. Something shifted under me, the ground giving way, a weight on the bed. Someone was sitting. The smell of food and the sound of a plate set down onto something beside me.

I twitched. Opened my eyes, blinking as light blinded them briefly, trying to get sight back. An unfamiliar room, a bed, and curtains partly open, letting daylight stream in.

"Morning." Antonio said softly eyes coming down to meet mine as I tried to sit, a hand pulling me up. "Want to come eat with us so we don't wake your friend?"

I glanced beside me. In the bed, large enough for three adults, lay Pav. She was asleep, pale face peaceful, hand clutching to the sheets as if she would drown without them, but she was safe. It was the first time I'd seen her sleeping so deeply since we'd escaped.

So I nodded and stood, with some assistance, realising that the reason I couldn't bend or flex like usual was because bandages were across my back, against the wounds, tape holding it securely in place. He picked up the plate and I followed him through a narrow hallway, into a kitchen, where the other man sat with a heap of food and a newspaper. His eyes snapped up to me, like he'd been waiting.

"Just eat it, Nick, she's got plenty." Antonio scolded. Set a plate down, waited for me to sit, and went to pour juice. "We'll talk after she eats "

I was starving. Hesitated. I wanted to wolf it down, consume it all, and then steal more food. My eyes flickering to the other food, then to the oven, where there was a pile of waiting leftovers. Clearly this was the house of werewolves used to the hunger. I eyed the fork and spoon, spotless.

"Just eat it as you need to. Don't worry about manners."

So I ate. Fingers, fork, using both, reassured when I saw Antonio and Nick display the same behaviour with their own food, not at all bothered or self concious about the way they ate. The food was replaced by more food, bacon, ham, sausages, pancakes, and we ate again, the three of us, not saying a word.

I leaned back. My stomach, for the first time in weeks, felt content. It had quietened down and I shuddered, relief flooding through some primal part of me. Food was safety. Energy.

"We treated your back last night and gave you something clean to wear. Hope you don't mind." Antonio said, and I glanced down, only then realising that I was in something different. "Jeremy has instructed us to treat your back three times a day, till you reach the house."

"The house?"

"Home." Nick answered. He glanced up, our eyes meeting, his face frozen. Unreadable. I wasn't sure what was going on with him, this other man, but he seemed to be uncomfortable somehow. "We're taking the two of you home today."

"Yes. We spoke with Jeremy, our Alpha, and told him what happened. What you are. Anne, how did you become a werewolf?"

It was such a sudden question but one that had been floating around since they'd met me, probably. I wanted to ask them the same question.

"I was ...taken. I can't remember how, I think they must have drugged me, and the man, my owner, bit me."

"Not your owner. No one owns you." Nick interrupted, voice low, only to be elbowed by Antonio.

"Well, the man then. I haven't got his name."

"How did you survive though? Not many do." Antonio was sipping his coffee, looking calm, eyes focused on me.

"I know." I remembered that much. Dead bodies. Women. Girls, really, being wheeled down the hall past the cage door. Doctors bent over me as something happened. "He has doctors trying to keep us alive. I saw a lot of them die. Or get sicker." Mind jumped to Pav, again, sleeping in the bed, her face pale. She was sick. She had been sick for days. But at least she was sleeping and that might be more helpful than anything I could do.

"How many were there?" A flicker of something in his eyes. Surprise? Shock? I didn't know.

"I don't know. I was in a cage. Only saw a few around me, but I saw others, and …I can't say. More than twenty if you count the ones that died? I didn't see many people. Just heard them. There were about a dozen doctors. A dozen security guards. So..." A flicker of anxiety. Memories I didn't want to remember. "I don't really know."

"All right. Just one more question..."

"How did I get here? Or where was I?"

A nod, both pair of eyes boring into me. "Either question ,yes."

"I escaped. Grabbed the only girl that could run. We ran." I didn't go into details, didn't tell them what'd happened before I grabbed Pav, how I'd disabled guards, how I'd... guilt, horror, human horror, but the worst part was that the animal part, the part they'd forced into me, thought the deaths were necessary. That it was justified. I swallowed. "He sent a hunter after us. To bring us back. Pets only escape by dying but I wasn't ready to do that yet. I don't know where I ran from. I just ran."

Anxiety, breathing increasing, the urge to flee. It was so vivid that I felt it rising again, felt my eyes dart to the windows, swallowing as I saw how far it was to the city. I felt almost caged.

A hand closed on my shoulder, I jumped, hadn't noticed Antonio or Nick rise.

Nick was standing there, watching me, still watchful. Still quiet. His hand on my shoulder.

"We're going home soon. Driving. The car's already packed. It'll be a bit of a drive but you're used to that, I imagine, from Australia."

I blinked. Memories of laughter, teasing Americans who thought all Australians lived in the outback and lived no where near anywhere. Memories from when I had been the tourist here, on a tour of New York, a student who'd won a trip and couldn't quite believe it.

"I lived an hour from Brisbane. In a rainforest. So no real long drives anywhere." I replied, only half telling the truth, gazing up at him.

He smiled, a small tense smile. "Sounds nice."

"It was. Is. But I missed the seasons in the colder climates."

"Do you live with anyone there? A boyfriend? Husband? ...girlfriend?"

"No. I was studying full time so I only had enough money to rent a room, no boyfriend or anything to share a house with." It seemed distant now. I wondered what they thought when I vanished. The anxiety was fading again, as I talked, and his hand softened slightly. I got what he was doing there, suddenly, getting my mind off the anxiety that was building, and appreciated that. In captivity, the werewolves who sensed fear or anxiety taunted it, provoked it, making it a game. No one had tried to calm one of us down. Nick had though. It was nice of him and I added, "Thanks."

"For what?" His smile widened, just a bit, as if he knew what I was talking about, rough fingertips brushing against the bare neck, before he was off towards one of the other doors.

I spent the next few hours trying to read. No luck. TV was slightly better at being a distraction, though I'd never really cared for it much, I did find the advertisements amusing. Australia was no better than American when it came to the amount of ads on TV, true, but it was a novelty to see a different country's ads. It showed how bad the programming was though if I was most amused by commercials than by the shows themselves. When I was offered a shower I hesitated, but then agreed, after remembering how long it'd been since I showered properly. I probably stank.

Pav was awake when I came out of the shower, in suspiciously new looking female clothing, I wondered if they'd had it already or gone to buy some, her eyes wide with surpassed panic. She calmed down at the sight of me.

"Did they talk to you?"

"Yes, we talked a lot last night." She replied. Stretched. Tried to smile. I examined her, taking notice of her face, the paleness still there. The reason I'd been the one to lead the tracker away, everytime he got close, because of her sickness. She had been for a long time, I suspected. But she ignored me whenever I tried to ask and so I'd given up. As if she knew my trail of thought, she added, "I ate, showered, and went to sleep. They seem okay."

They did seem okay. I was still suspicious, somehow, still on edge. But some part of me was eager to put trust in them, so eager, to believe that there was still some good left in the world. In men. Was that wrong, stupid, idiotic, to hope that we'd found some nice werewolves? Probably. But I could always run again.

"I heard you both talking." Antonio was at the door, a backpack over one shoulder, peering in at us. "I hate to rush it, but Pav, do you think you're up for leaving straight away and eating in the car? We better get moving."

She nodded, standing, silky dark hair somehow avoiding the crazy bed tangles I got. We headed out after him, into the lift.

"Nick's out the front with the car, waiting. No point trying to hide your scent trail, really, they'll have issues following you once you're in the car. Apple." An apple, offered to Pav, and he waited till she had accepted it before continuing. "Your situation is unique so, for the time being, the pack is offering you protection. I'll explain more in the car when we're out of the city."

The lift stopped, a couple joining us, and Antonio nodded at them as he went quiet. We stood there. Tiny box. Jerky, sometimes, like a little cage.

My heart sped up.

Then the doors opened into the lobby and I relaxed. Scolded myself. Silly Anne, I thought, getting jumpy about a lift now.

We followed him outside. There was a car, expensive I had to assume, all shiny with dark tinted windows and paint that still had the shiny reflective look about it. A small trailer was at the end, boxes there, moving boxes with a tarp across them. Nick got out of the driver's seat, allowing Antonio to get in, and Pav was offered the front seat. She was looking sick already, as if walking had been bad enough, so I couldn't blame them for offering her that one. I slid into the back, Nick on the other side already, the car and trailer already pulling away into the city street as the door clicked closed with a soft sound.

I could smell something else in there, the smell of death, glancing backwards. Towards the back of the car, where additional things were stacked, smaller boxes, plastic bags, suitcases. The smell was gone as fast as I'd smelt it, just a quick whiff, so faint that I doubted anyone would notice without the right kind of nose.

"Is he there?" I pictured the dead hunter, eyes wide, neck broken.

"Yes.." Antonio said softly. "The trailer was hired before we knew about that, however, with a horde of Christmas presents for a small army, requests for specific things. Suddenly we needed a trailer."

"Christmas?"

"It's only twelve days away. What's that song? Twelve days of Christmas, my true love gave to me..."

Nick snorted, smacking the back of Antonio's head. "Stop that, I've already heard it enough in the shops."

I gazed out the window. I had noticed that New York seemed Christmas obsessed. It hadn't sunk in though, hadn't mattered enough for further investigation, but now it was obvious. No snow though.

"Doesn't it snow for Christmas?"

"Sometimes. If we're good boys and girls." Nick answered. Eyes on me. It was bizarre, every time our eyes met, as if he was waiting for me to say something to him. Now that I thought about it, it'd always been the same tense hesitation, the pause, waiting for some sort of conversation I had no clue I was meant to give.

So I only returned his gaze a moment, before I got distracted by the city once more.

As we would slow, maybe in traffic, or at a light, Antonio would discreetly let his hand drop out the driver door, as did Nick. I didn't notice it at first, except for the overwhelming scents that liked to rush into the window from the city streets. It took me half an hour before I really took notice and understood. They both held a strip of of clothing, different kinds, I could recognise mine and guessed the other was Pav's clothing. Cut down into a tiny long strip of fabric that would slap against the street at an intersection, or against another car, or a light.

Scent marking. They were muddling up our trail. Clever... I wondered why I hadn't thought of that. Probably because I didn't have a car to do it with.

The city passed by and the windows went up as we reached the tunnel itself.

Then out into the outsides. City, still, but less spectacular. Smaller buildings. As we drove, they continued to shrink, till gaps of land started to appear, sometimes just empty lots, and houses started to dot between the small buildings. Nick and Antonio seemed to be repeating the pattern, and I felt dizzy, aware that we weren't exactly driving in a straight line. Or was I confused? Everything looked the same to me. Here it was still very 'American suburb' but it could have been Australian too, from time to time, the houses and footpaths and big tree,s it was sometimes like I hadn't gone anywhere, except perhaps for the Christmas decorations in the obvious winter chill, puddles instead of browning grass, kids racing around in winter gear instead of shorts and swimware.

"Who did that to your back, Anne?" Nick's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, eyes on my shoulder instead of on me.

I didn't want to answer. But I did automatically, using the name that I couldn't quite shake, muttering,"My Maste..."

He growled. It shocked me, made me jump, and I hesitated.

"You don't have one. No one does."

There was a warning from the front. "Nick..."

"It's habit. Saying that word. I didn't say it, he'd do exactly what you saw on my back, he was just waiting for an excuse. I tried to not say it. He'd give me as many as he felt like, wait till it'd half healed, and start again. That was how I found out werewolves heal fast." I bit my lip. Wasn't sure why I was explaining myself, why I had to, but somehow I felt like I had to continue, voice hard, eyes fixed on his, "I don't think of him as my master. No one will ever be and when I kill him, he'll know exactly how little he really had control over me." Anger, soft, stubborn, hidden till now, my eyes hardening as I stared at my knees. I tried to release that anger. It wasn't helpful. "Sorry. Saying that is a bad habit to break, saying that name, it's almost lost all meaning."

"How long were you there for?" Nick's face was tense. He looked at me, same expression of expectation, like he knew the answer, like he was still waiting for me to say something to him. It was strange. He acted like we'd met.

"I don't remember." I almost snapped that, tense suddenly also, but I did have an idea. His question made me think about something I had refused to, had deliberately put aside, a possibility so fucking terrible that I couldn't think about it. It made all kinds of bad feelings rise again. Anger. Not at these people but at the ones responsible.

"When did you leave?"

"Nick..." Another warning from the front. Eyes meeting in the mirror again. I had never really believed the 'father son' story they'd given earlier but now it was obvious which of them was older. His eyes snapped to mine before they were back on the road. "Anne, you don't have to answer that."

Dim memories, of a less tense, less anxious me, one waving her hand dismissively and deciding that she could handle an extra semester to for a free holiday. What choice? There had been no choice! Suitcase packed, let's go, see you in a month! America hadn't been my first choice of ideal places to visit but being a full time student any free month long holiday suddenly was high priority particularly after spending all summer doing additional classes.

"Two weeks before semester one. It was a cruise. I won a cruise trip from here to England, with a tour of New York before departure, then a tour in England. I remember arriving in LA and then...nothing. I don't even know if I made it to New York." Dim memories, drugs, a cell, time fading into a torturous stretch of time, dreams that seemed more real than reality. Impossible dreams. Not reality. It was confusing. "It's nearly Christmas now."

"Yeah." Nick's face seemed to loose some of that earlier expectation and he leaned back, eyes going to his own window. Probably didn't know when Australians started Semester one.

I did. My mind was already counting the months before I could stop it. Ten months.

Another hour of driving went past before Nick swore, as if he'd remembered something, leaning forward to tap his father's shoulder. "Windows up a sec." We slowed and pulled up beside one of the quiet streets.

I glanced outside my side, wondering why, when I felt a hand tickle tickled up my side, and then under my shirt. I jumped, turning to face Nick, face expressionless as he held up a first aid kit. "Jeremy's orders. Turn around. I'll take care of it. You'll need to take your shirt off."

"What!"

"I can't really clean your entire back with it on."

Antonio went to open his side of the car door then. Glanced at Pav, who had fallen asleep, before back to us. "It's okay. He'll behave. I'm going to go get some snacks for us, be back in a sec. Don't leave the car."

Once Antonio was gone, I gave in, not sure why I did. Maybe it was because I didn't want it to get any more infected than it was. Running, should it have to come to that, would be impossible if it got worse. I couldn't treat it myself. Pav couldn't treat it. We didn't know why she was sick so it wasn't safe to let her touch any open wounds. I slid the shirt up, tugging it over my head, and held it against my chest to keep some amount of dignity. Nick's fingers were at the bra clasp, unhooking it,pushing the edges under my arms. I wondered vaguely where he'd gotten a bra from anyway that fit me. Or who'd put it on me.

"Where'd the bandages go?"

"Shower."

"You should have told us." Nick muttered. His shoulders stiffened, jaw tightening, as he slid closer, hands grasping onto my waist, making me squirm. "You've got such a sensitive back, don't you?"

I would have thought that was flirting, almost, but as he said it his voice got tense. Angry.

"Yes."

He inhaled, slowly, face near one of my shoulders, leg against my bottom as he made sure he was close. Nick's hands started to clean the cuts with gentle strokes, a cotton bud with some alcoholic stuff stinging against the raw skin, hesitating every time I inhaled sharply with pain.

"You don't remember me, do you?" A soft voice, so soft that I had to strain to hear it, his voice hesitating even as he said it. Like he'd been resisting the urge to ask.

I blinked. Not expecting a statement like that. "No, I've never..."

"We met here. In New York. In February." Hands continued to work, trying to clean my back without additional pain, hesitating even after it became clear that he wasn't going to avoid causing any.

"I don't remember anything after LA." I had just said that, but suddenly understood, understood the looks he'd been giving me, the stares, the sense I got from him that he was waiting for me to say something. "Are you sure it was me?"

"You smell the same. Well, you've got wolf there now," He inhaled again, slowly, forehead against my shoulder just for a brief moment. "But you're the same. I know it was you."

I might have argued with that once. Now, with the realisation that people did have unique smells, smells that were like faces, like fingerprints almost, I couldn't try and logic that one away.

"Was it here?"

"No, it was in LA. You were on the same plane as I was. We sat next to each other, talked, and then you agreed to meet up with me before you got on your cruise. We got here, I made sure you were safe, showed you around."

"I can't..."

"I know." He pressed too hard, swearing as I jumped, muttering apologies. "Sorry. I'm not like this usually."

There was something, as he said that, a flash of his face. Laughing. Teasing. Giving me some kind of souvenir. Statue of liberty crown thing? We were on a boat. The smell of sea air, of coffee, and I remembered having an aching face. From smiling too much.

"You took me on a boat."

"Yeah. To the statue of liberty. Couldn't have an Aussie visit without taking her to see a giant metal French chick." He laughed, softly, and relaxing just slightly. "Crowned you tourist of the year. Then took it away from you when you made me eat Vegemite."

"I remember that." I smiled too, the expression so alien that I took a few seconds to realise just what I was doing with my face. There had been an attempt to get him to eat Vegemite with me. I didn't know how we'd gotten some here in New York, couldn't remember that much, but the expression on his face when he'd had an entire spoonful...

"You have no idea how that stuff tastes when you've got a wolf nose." He started to slide some sort of cream against my back then, still close, fingers gliding across from lower back to my neck where one had reached, the other hand reaching up to brush hair out of his way. "I bought you some this morning. Thought you might miss it."

"Thanks."

He went quiet, taking strips of fabric, before continuing, "Night before your cruise, we agree to meet at a bar and have some fun. Some American guy was there, all muscle and terrible cologne, holding you in his lap, sprouting all kinds of shit about what he was going to do with you later to his buddies. I didn't know he was your boyfriend, of course, was about to smash his head into the table for talking about you like that, but … you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend. He told me to fuck off. You just shrugged."

"I don't..."

"Get drunk, I know. You told me. But you were practically falling asleep on him, didn't seem to care where his hands were, and I wasn't going to ruin your night." He was tense again, angry, all bruised pride, while he pressing the strips of linen against my back so that he could tape them down.

"No." I frowned. Tense myself now. Maybe scents weren't like fingerprints or whatever after all. I wasn't sure what he was on about. And yet, I did, somehow, and it made me feel terrified. I didn't understand it. "No, Nick. I don't get drunk, yeah, but I don't … I don't act like that."

"You did. No big deal. I had a good night with someone else, you had a good night, we all had a good night." He didn't sound like he'd had a good night.

"I don't act like that." My voice was raised, heartbeat racing, panic. Panic. I wanted to get out of the car, away from Nick, yanking my shirt down my back before he could finish. "I need to go for a walk."

The car door opened then, as Antonio slid in, gaze sliding back to me. Then to Nick, a harder look, almost angry.

"Sorry, we've got to get moving. Nick. Get back in your seat."

"I didn't finish with your back, Anne."

I knew. Ignored him as I slid back in my seat and did the seatbelt up. Antonio looked from me to him, frown increasing, and he offered one of the paper bags to us. Nick took it, I was not hungry and ignored him when he offered it.

"It doesn't matter. The shirt's clean. I'll finish it when we get a chance later, okay?"

Nick slid backwards as well, eyes on me still, I could feel them boring into me. I didn't look at him.

The drive was quiet then, tense, and I ignored any attempts Nick made at offering food. I wasn't sure why I was angry but I was and no damn donut was going to make me cheer up. I wasn't a whore. I was probably the opposite of that, not a good thing either apparently, having never kissed a man. Slept with him? Let him grope me in public while I sat there drunk like a skunk? Not my kind of thing. Only I couldn't say he was wrong either, or lying, because I remembered the other stuff he'd talked about.

I crossed my arms. Kept my eyes on the road. Tried to stay calm.

It was some time before anyone spoke. Pav had woken by then, accepting the food for her, glancing back at the two of us in the back with some confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"We were just waiting for you to wake before I explained further." Antonio's voice was smooth and calm as he continued. "We should have muddled up the trail enough to make it hard to track you both. There were a few following you but they were idiots, making mistakes, probably not connected to the hunter. Female werewolves aren't common. In fact, they're rare, our Elena being the first to survive. I'm sorry we were slow to act last night, Anne, it took us a moment to believe our noses and move faster. Because you're rare, you're also seen as treasures, things to posses and keep, and any mutt- that is, a werewolf not in the pack- would probably love to snatch either of you up, rape you, murder you." He was quick to add, "We are in the pack and have been taught self-control. We aren't going to harm either of you. You've got nothing to fear from us."

"Why are there so many men?" That was Pav, sliding up, her eyes on Antonio.

"The gene only passes from men to sons." A hesitation, as if he was considering adding something, and then, "And seeing as you'll smell it on Kate anyway, it seems from mothers to daughters. Kate is Elena's five year old daughter. Please don't share that information with anyone. I'd say we protect them, Elena and Kate, the females of our pack but the truth is Elena's about as helpless as a tiger with her cub and you're both just as dangerous with some practice. Jeremy has asked her to help you two given her experience in this. The thing is, and this is difficult to say without sounding like we're coming onto you, that you've both got unique scents to male werewolves. All female werewolves do, except for Kate, because she hasn't started to shift yet. It's a smell that can make any mutt with no self-control go a little crazy, an aphrodisiac almost, though we're used to it from Elena by now."

I found something pushed into my hands from the drivers seat then , an iced coffee, and sighed. Fine.

"The werewolves in The Pack aren't animals. You have no need to fear any of us. We might get a bit playful or annoying sometimes," Antonio's eyes went from the road to Nick in the mirror, I noticed, but it was so brief I almost missed it, "But we won't take it personally if you kick us in the balls if we get out of hand. So that's it, pretty much, except for a few rules that I'll let our alpha share. Jeremy will talk to you both when you arrive. You'll be our guests and like with any guests, we'll take it personally if anyone, supernatural or human, tries to snatch you up or hurt you while we're your hosts."

I must have fallen asleep after his little speech, curled up against the soft seat of the car, the motion soothing. Used to love driving long distances as a passenger. It was so relaxing.

It was country now, I saw as I opened my eyes, the occasional house, animals, birds, trees.

"How close?"

"Still a bit of a drive. How are you feeling?" Antonio said, softly, and I realised the other two were asleep.

"Hungry." First answer, straight from my stomach, and he grinned. Tossed back a small bag.

"I managed to save it for you. Eat up before these two smell it."

I ate, watching out the window, two sandwiches feeling like they'd barely fill anything. The previously rejected donuts helped fill the gaps.

"I know where you and Nick met."

That made me stiffen, memory of the argument earlier, and he sighed. Glanced back at Nick, who was still asleep.

"Sorry, hun, there aren't many secrets in the pack. You bruised his pride, sent him running with a tail between his legs, surprising him with a boyfriend after he'd spent all that time trying to get you into bed. Like I said, if he gets out of hand, kick him."

I didn't answer and his eyes returned to the road. But I couldn't stand it. So I leaned forward, softly, "There's no way he would have gotten me into bed. But I didn't have a boyfriend."

"You say you can't remember the time though. Maybe you met someone."

"Even if I had," My face was reddening but I didn't want the wrong idea of me getting around this Pack group. Better to make it plain now. "He would have had to practically propose to me to get me into his bed, and there's no way in hell I'd let anyone grope me in public, fiancee, husband or boyfriend. And if he got me drunk in public like that he wouldn't have been anything to me by the time I was sober again."

"Are you religious?" There was surprise in Antonio's voice, his expression back on me fleetingly.

"No. I ...it's odd, I know, all my friends would tease me about it. Called it cute. Guess most twenty fi... six," I had to correct myself as I remembered that I'd missed a birthday, "Twenty six year olds have already had sex, or married, or popped out some babies. I just couldn't. It went against my instincts, not because I was afraid of hell, just because I wanted to be with a partner. Someone for life. Only one."

"Makes a lot of sense to me." His voice was low, soft, eyes fixed on the road, and I somehow could believe he meant it.

"I don't know what he saw that night. It just goes against everything I..." I hesitated. Sat back. My heart was hammering again, in my chest, anxiety.

"You are. I understand."

I nodded, lips tightening, staring out of my own window. I couldn't accuse Nick of making it up. Even as he'd said it, as much as I didn't want to admit it, I'd remembered too. Not all of it. Just snippets. A hand against my thigh, laughter, and Nick's angry face. I remembered that face, because it was suddenly out of sight as some idiot bumped into him. Or had he shoved him? I didn't remember.

"How is Pav?"

"Sleeping."

I leaned forward again, unclipped the seatbelt so I could see her. She was asleep, dark lashes on her unnaturally pale face, chest rising and falling in quick shallow breathes. This was how she was half of the time we'd rested. I didn't know her well, didn't even know her last name, but I felt responsible for her.

"Sit back and put your seatbelt on. I'm watching her."

I did.

"Jeremy's trying to figure out what's wrong with her while we drive."

"No hospitals?"

"Not for werewolves." He shook his head slightly. "Can't let them get hold of our blood. It causes too many questions. Did she change while you were running?"

I nodded. "She just lay there. Whimpered. I couldn't get near her, every time I tried, she'd get aggressive. Didn't recognise me at all. But she didn't move. Just found a corner and stayed in it till morning."

His mouth tightened. I knew what he was thinking. It didn't sound good.

"She has a girlfriend we had to leave behind. We couldn't get her out." I added. "She wanted to go back, I think, wanted to go back to her. The only reason she didn't try was because we didn't really know where we were, or where it was, neither of us know this country that well."

"We'll try and locate it. How is your back feeling?"

"Same. No, maybe a bit better, a little less hot." My concern wasn't really on my back, it was on Pav.

"We're halfway there. Not as long to go now."

I nodded. We went quiet, the breathing slow and easy from the sleepers, and the road continued to fly past. For the rest of the journey we didn't talk, just waited, watching for the safe place these men had called home.