Jamie bit into the sandwich and nearly gagged. She discretely dumped the contents of her mouth into the Ziploc bag and hid it in her lunch sack. Luckily she was only one of the few people who chose to eat their lunches out in the bleachers. It was a sticky, uncomfortable metal seat but it offered a perfect view of Amber sitting in the quad below. She wasn't surrounded with her usual posse of cheerleaders. She sat with two other boys and a dark-haired girl. Jamie had seen her with the other three on several occasions. Enough to know that each of them was a werewolf.
Jamie nearly gagged again, dumping the sandwich back into the paper sack. Corned beef. She wished she could extricate every remaining flavor molecule from her mouth. She was in the habit of making her own lunches, but much to her surprise and delight, the Colonel had offered to make it for her this morning. He only did that when he was in a really good mood. It was too bad he didn't know what she liked. She should have expected it—there had been a barrier between them for almost as long as she could remember.
She pulled out a perfectly good apple and took a bite, viewing the group beneath her. She wished she could hear what they were saying, but it wouldn't be smart to get any closer. She'd already extracted a ton of information this week. For one thing, she'd managed to follow Amber home the other day. Now her father and brother could set up surveillance around the property.
She ticked off their names in her mind: Amber Carlyle, Alec Hindley, Leigh Bennett, and Porter Maxwell. Most of them were from completely different cliques at school, but they still managed to be the best of friends. Take Leigh, for instance, Jamie thought. The dark-haired biker girl slipped out to the courtyard to sneak a smoke during classes—not because she liked them either. She only did it to look like a bad girl. This was much to Amber's chagrin, who was trying to turn Leigh into another preppy cheerleader.
Jamie turned to observe the next person in the group, Alec Hindley. He was Amber's boy friend and the only one of the four who wore contacts. He was probably one of the best-looking guys in school with his dark laughing eyes and his broad shoulders. Apparently he was the best quarterback Brighton High had ever seen. This was no surprise. Werewolves were amazing athletes, among other things.
The last person in the group was the hardest to peg, and Jamie prided herself on being a good observer. Porter Maxwell had a healthy build, although it was slighter than Alec's. She had a good view of him from English class starting with his shock of sandy hair followed by the nape of his tanned neck. If he turned, she caught sight of deep blue eyes. The speckles of silver were so tiny, they were almost impossible notice. Jamie had purposefully bumped into him earlier that week, just to get a look at them.
She nearly shivered, as he happened to look up and cast his eyes in her direction. She took another bite of her apple and pretended to be oblivious to his gaze. She moved uncomfortably, her rough metal seat etching marks in her backside. Porter was the one who scared her most. He was so observant, his senses so heightened. At times she almost thought he could smell her thoughts—but that was impossible. Ridiculous. She wasn't going to give into such foolish fantasies.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of Porter standing smoothly. His movements were perfect, each muscle contracting and releasing to exact perfection. If someone were to attack Porter just then, in his seemingly casual manner, he could tear him limb from limb. He moved over toward the bleachers calmly.
Jamie's heart thundered in her chest. He was coming up to her. Pretending she hadn't noticed his assent, she dumped the half-eaten apple in her bag. She jumped to her feet and walked quickly away. Or as quickly as she could manage without arousing suspicion. When she was a discrete distance off, she was finally able to slow her breathing, which was entering and leaving her body deceivingly quick.
She wondered about him for the rest of the afternoon. What was he doing? Why had he tried to come to her? Could he really read her thoughts? She shuddered.
But of course he couldn't read her thoughts or he would have killed her on the spot. Or dragged her to a secluded corner and then killed her. A horrible vision filled her mind. A vision of being eaten. Like her mother was eaten.
Her father had never been the same since. He was driven by the need to destroy every single last werewolf in existence. And why should she stop him? They were evil. Every single last one of them. It was their duty to protect humans from the werewolves.
By the time school had ended, dark thunderclouds had covered the sky coinciding with her dark thoughts. She jogged the two miles to their secluded home, just a half a mile outside town. It was a good jog. She stretched her legs to their limits, pounding her feet against the asphalt. Her breath moved in and outside of her evenly. It was the most wonderful feeling just to be free and to forget her life. She knew it couldn't last. By the time she was nearly home, she could feel the weight hanging over her. It would settle onto her shoulders the moment she stepped through the front door.
She rested on the front lawn, leaning her back into the spiky grass as tiny droplets began to patter on her forehead. It was a large lot, although relatively unkempt and secluded. It was the perfect place for the Colonel to set up shop and the rent was cheap. Since the Colonel had retired from the military five years before, they had been free to move about as the Colonel pleased—and the Colonel moved them around more than the military had. Jamie was used to it but she suspected Doug didn't take it so well. He wanted to settle down and go to college and get a real job. He was twenty-three now, a good six years older than Jamie.
But the Colonel held on to him like iron. He said he needed Doug to keep the operations going. It was true that the Colonel wasn't as young as he used to be. He had a good fifty-seven years behind him. Maybe it was about time he retire from fighting the 'wolves too. But the Colonel wouldn't consider this. He would be fighting werewolves until he met his grave. It was his promise to his wife as the life had slipped from her eyes.
Jamie sighed and sat up. The droplets were coming down harder now, plastering her hair to the sides of her face. She turned to view the decrepit brick building that would be her home for the next few months. She had a vivid memory of the mildew smell that had reached her nostrils the first moment she stepped into the house.
With a heavy heart she turned and walked to the door.