Chapter 17
Jamie moved around the bits of raw chicken distastefully, her stomach grumbling softly. Her limbs were trembling with a kind of fatigue she'd never felt before. She just couldn't get the thought out of her head that she shouldn't be eating raw meat. As she looked down at the pink substance down on her plate, she felt almost as bad as a cannibal.
It's just a chicken, she told herself.
She watched the adults discuss the situation heatedly at the table. Most of the teens were listening in intently, except for Leigh, who seemed intent on brooding outside. She wondered what was wrong with the girl—besides the problems they were all facing.
Porter reached over and forked a piece of raw chicken. He lifted it up to her mouth. "Go on," he suggested. "Eat it. It's not as bad as it looks. Besides, if you go on like this, you're going to starve. And starving werewolves do bad things."
Jamie made as if to bite it, but moved back. She shook her head vehemently. "I can't—"
While her mouth was open, he stuffed the piece inside. She swallowed it down sickly, gagging. "I feel like Bella when I fed her carrots," she remarked and couldn't resist gagging again.
"You need to eat more," Porter said, looking her firmly in the eye. "If you don't, you just might end up attacking the next human you see."
Jamie found eyes sliding away from his. She couldn't stop looking at his neck, she realized, feeling sickly guilty. Porter took hold of her chin gently and lifted her head to look him in the eye again. "No," he said. Jamie almost felt like he was scolding her. "On most occasions, I don't mind if you bite me. But with you this hungry…you're liable to try to rip me apart. The bloodlust does things to you. And you're stronger now."
Jamie grumbled slightly, placing another piece of chicken in her mouth. She swallowed it quickly, so that she would have that slimy uncooked feeling on her tongue. She took another one. It was torture just to finish the plate of food.
"Well, if the bomb isn't in the house—" One of the adult's voices cut above their conversation. It was Mr. Carlyle who was speaking so loudly.
"You just don't want the bomb to be in the house, Mike," Mrs. Hindley responded with a sympathetic glance. "I know it's your child in there. I know you want to save her. And we need to think things through clearly. He told Jamie that he was going to plant a bomb. Yes, she couldn't find it—but it's there somewhere. We can't just go blazing in there, hoping it won't go off! We need a plan—"
"We don't have a good plan—!"
"And we need to know where he's going to station his men. Silver bullets will be flying."
Jamie saw Porter sigh wearily as the adults argued, rubbing his eyes. She understood. She too was tired of all the shouting. She wished, for once, that all the adults would work together and do this right. She knew they weren't seasoned fighters. This was probably the first skirmish they'd ever been in. Saving Alec and his mother, probably none of these people had ever met a real werewolf hunter before. The Colonel, and his friends, was a ruthless bunch and seasoned too. Jamie was worried that the 'wolves wouldn't have a chance, even with their superior strength and speed.
Her eyes darted to the glass doors at the back of the dining room. Leigh was still standing outside in the frigid air with her arms wrapped about herself. The moisture in the air froze as it left her mouth, sending out cloudy white puffs into the night air.
Jamie stood in one swift motion, her muscles perfectly coordinated for the movement. She had never felt so free in her own limbs before this day. She placed a hand on Porter's shoulder and spoke. "I'll be back."
She moved over to the sliding glass door and pushed it aside gently. The cool air burst in on her, making goosebumps rise on her sensitive skin. She stepped out into the night air and shut the door softly behind her.
Leigh took a drag of her cigarette, the end lighting up with the intake. She dropped her wrist to her side and blew outward. She gave Jamie a sideways glance. "Are you here to lecture me on the dangers of smoking? If you are, you might as well turn around and walk right back inside. Amber's been trying for years."
Jamie shook her head. "I wasn't going to say anything about it."
"So you think they're okay then?" Leigh raised her eyebrows.
"No," Jamie replied, "but you'll do whatever you darn well please no matter what I think."
Leigh nodded her head in an almost sharp gesture. She grinned. "Got that right."
Leigh brought the cigarette to her lips again. "Besides, it doesn't hurt me. I'm a 'wolf. My lungs are regenerating as we speak."
"But your mind isn't," Jamie said quietly. "That's why you're still addicted."
Leigh's eyes flared up and then she sighed. She dropped the cigarette and stamped it beneath her foot. She twisted the heel methodically with a wistful glance. "Just for you," she said and lifted a finger pointedly. "And don't expect it to last."
Jamie smiled. She could get used to Leigh's company. The girl's calm demeanor and stout determination were inspiring. And she wasn't afraid to be herself, no matter what anybody else thought.
Leigh leaned into the side of the house. "Then what brought you out here?"
Jamie tried to figure out how to word it. "I wanted to know what was eating at you."
Leigh let out a tiny mocking chuckle. "Nosy are we?"
Jamie just shrugged.
Leigh sighed. She spoke, her voice rising slightly in frustration. "Same thing that's eating at all of us. The parents are clueless. They don't know how to fight. And your father's pulled a different trick than he's ever tried before. We can't even make an educated guess."
Jamie elbowed her lightly in the side. "No worries. When the bad stuff starts rolling, I got your back."
"And I you," Leigh said with a sigh.