Chapter 11

Tom, as he opened the door to his Mustang after bringing John in, shuddered as he remembered the malicious look in Mason Folan's blue eyes. The kid unnerved him for reasons he didn't quite understand himself, and Hanson made a mental note to see if Folan had a record. In the meantime, he'd wait until John was tried and booked and then post bail. Okay, so the teen could be really annoying and he dealt drugs, but Hanson had taken a liking to him. Besides, he needed someone to help with his 'wolf side and Bryant was a pretty good teacher. Tom was still wary about what the alpha had said about him joining the pack, but maybe—if he did—the other werewolves would help him out if he was ever in trouble.

The omega dashed away his thoughts and started the blue Mustang. He pulled out of the lot and decided to head to Rocket Dog. It was barely ten and he was already hungry. Besides, the place was a regular teen hangout. Maybe he'd find some answers.

Turning on the radio for some company, Tom noticed it was halfway through Def Leppard's "Animal." It wasn't one of his favorite bands, but whatever. When the song was over, he was about to change stations when he heard the opening notes of a Heart single, "Bad Animals."

They walk into the lobby
The pack in black
Heads are turning
But they don't look back

They must be crazy
Not buying in
Why those outsiders
Got to shock and offend

Tom smirked. This was reminding him of the Jump Street unit and some of the kids they'd busted.

Bad animals—bad animals
Got to swim upstream, got a rebel seed
Bad animals—bad animals
Got to push the grain or go insane

Out here on the frontline
Our territory is nighttime
We walk the jungle line
We stay alive

Bad bad bad boys
And dangerous girls
Ain't got no prescription, no
They make their own styles

This was all too true, Hanson realized. Smiling thinly, he remembered how he almost didn't make it into the Jump Street program.

Typical family
Trying not to stare
Look a little closer now
If you dare, if you dare, if you dare

Bad animals—bad animals
Got to swim upstream got a rebel seed
Bad animals—bad animals
Got to push the grain or go insane

Okay, now he was flashing back to his first case as part of the undercover unit. Remembering Waxer, his 'wolf snarled and bristled. Tom fought to suppress it, letting out a relieved sigh when it buried itself.

Out here on the frontline
Our territory is nighttime
We walk the jungle line
We stay alive

Bad animals—bad animals
Got to swim upstream got a rebel seed
Bad animals—bad animals
Got to push the grain or go insane

The song faded out, and the Rolling Stones' "Paint It Black" came on. Hanson made it through another two songs before he saw the Rocket Dog. A few high school-ers were already there, presumably having sneaked off campus for lunch. Tom exited his 'Stang and joined them, recognizing a couple of the teens as Central students. Hopefully they didn't know he was an undercover cop.

The teenagers—three boys and a girl—eyed him suspiciously. Then the girl—one of the Central kids—shrugged. She said, "Hey, Tom. You're in my Spanish class, right? I was wondering why you didn't show."

Her name was Alyssa, he remembered. She had olive-colored skin, blue-black hair, and gray eyes. Tom was also relieved that she hadn't heard about him busting John. In answer, he said, "Yeah. As to why I didn't show . . . well, it's kinda a funny story. You guys want lunch?"

Alyssa exchanged glances with the other Central kid—a dark-haired senior named David—and replied, "Sure. By the way, this is Mike"—she indicated a seventeen-year-old guy with red hair, green eyes, an AC/DC shirt, and torn jeans—"and this is Wesley. Everyone just calls him Wes."

"Glad to meet you," Wes said. The boy had spiky auburn hair, pale blue eyes, and was wearing an all-black T-shirt and jacket with blue jeans. "Now that that's over, can we eat? I'm hungry." He opened the door and went inside without waiting for the others.

Hanson caught a whiff of fresh meat and his stomach growled. Following the enticing scent, he walked inside the diner, not bothering to notice that the place was almost empty or that the door had locked behind him, leaving him with the four teenagers. All his 'wolf cared about at the moment was lunch.

After paying for a dog, he perched on one of the booths, watching the teens as he took a bite. It was then he noticed they (aside from the cashier) were the only ones there. Tom swallowed his mouthful of food with a nervous gulp. Something about this didn't seem right.

Wes and Mike sat on the table, trying to act nonchalant but failing. At a barely imperceptible nod from David, Wes leaned in close and murmured, "We know what you are."

Tom's blood turned to ice. Not showing his true feelings, he finished off the hot dog in rapid, neat bites. Looking at the two teens, he said, "What, a drug supplier?"

"No," Wes said scornfully. "I've seen you hanging aroundUniversity Park with that freak John Bryant. Guess like calls to like, huh?"

Hanson had to wrestle his 'wolf back. Still keeping his cover, he narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Hey, these two"—he pointed at David and Alyssa—"didn't believe me when I said I saw you two going into University Park as humans and then seeing wolves running around the place."

"I told you, that's crazy!" Alyssa protested.

Tom noticed her words had fallen on deaf ears. The three boys were gradually moving closer. He had to stall, keep them talking. The undercover cop said, "And your point is?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to make me say it, wolf boy?"

"I think the term you're looking for is werewolf," Wes sneered, his lip curling up in a way that was creeping the 'wolf out.

"Okay, that's it," Tom said. "I'm outta here." He hopped off the top of the seat and headed for the door.

Immediately the three guys were surrounding him, hemming him in. Tom sucked in his breath at the eagerness in their eyes. His teeth itched as his canines lengthened and sharpened. The omega tried to speak, but every word came out as a growl. He knew he was close to losing it. But John said they could transform at will . . . Confused and worried, he shook his head. The action made him look even more dangerous to the teens, what with the fangs and growling and all. Finally, Tom was able to regain control. He snapped, "Let me out of here. Now."

Alyssa was only too happy to open the door. Tom bolted, slamming the driver's side door closed and screeching out of the lot, the smell of burning rubber filling his nose. He needed help. Bad. But first, he head to write up his report.

Nerves zinging, he drove for the one place he could think of where he'd be safe: Jump Street Chapel.

Not really sure where this fits into the whole scheme of things, but I was reading The Wereling: Wounded and saw a scene similar to this, so the plot bunnies made me write it. Blame them.