Ande: Thanks for your last review. I like Doug too. Whether or not things turn out good for him will be determined in Chapter 24. You'll just have to wait and read.

Chapter 23

By the time Jamie hit the dirt she was almost fully werewolf. Somehow, she had lost hold of the TryptoKeri a while ago. It would have been useful right about now, with silver bullets whizzing overhead. Funny how she only thought about these kinds of things when she actually needed them.

Her legs no longer hurt from running with malfunctioning joints. Her clothes were in tatters, barely clinging to her. The strange part about it was that the fir was growing over top of her ripped and distorted clothing, fusing the material into her veins and tissues; changing it to become a part of her. One thing had refused to become a part of her body: the silver knife fell to the ground the moment the cloth holding it in place became a part of her leathery pelt. There was a weird silvery mark in the weapon. A bullet was embedded in the blade. The bullet that was intended for her.

She was fully wolf now. She shot across the ground toward the house. Another bullet nearly grazed her side. The round object flew passed her so fast that she nearly couldn't track it with her eyes. It crashed through a back window into the Henderson mansion. Jamie plowed in after it, falling to the wooden floorboards.

She only lie there an instant before jumping up on all fours. Another bullet flew through the window, embedding itself into the wall. Jamie couldn't help the growl that erupted from her throat. She sniffed around with her wet nose.

There was a little girl in the next room. Jamie could smell her tears—smell her fear. She could also smell that faint, doggy scent of a little werecub. She trotted quickly into the next room, and moved up to the girl in the center of the room. She was tied to a wooden support that held up the second floor—or was attempting to. If Bella struggled too much, she just might bring a portion of the upper level down on her head.

She nudged the little girl's sweaty blond hair and determined cheek with her muzzle. The girl's face was riveted with exertion from struggling to remove her hands from behind the pole. She stopped for a moment, to sniff Jamie gently.

"Jamie," the child whispered, knowingly. "You're different now."

Jamie didn't have time for conversation—and besides, she couldn't speak in this form. Not in the normal sense of the word, anyway. She could still send her emotions to the girl. Her worries and care and love for the little child. For her innocence and simplicity. No one had the right to harm a child. But she didn't have time to dwell on this at the moment. She needed to get Bella untied. The bomb was set to explode any minute.

She set to work, gnawing at the ropes that held Bella's wrists. There was a lot of rope. The Colonel had wound Bella's hands several times to ensure she didn't have a chance at an easy escape. It took several precious minutes before the ropes fell to the floor, completely severed by sharp fangs.

Jamie leaned over so that the child could jump onto her back. Bella reached one leg over her back and settled on as comfortably as possible. She wound her hands into the fur at Jamie's neck, pinching the skin slightly. Jamie would have said, "Hold tight!" if she could have spoken. As it turned out, she didn't need to. Bella was already holding on for dear life.

Jamie's eyes searched the front room, automatically locating the window she had come through the night she had been shot. She bolted straight for the wall just below the shattered window. Bits of broken glass cut into her sensitive paws and her wolf form winced painfully.

She couldn't lose momentum though. She moved into a running jump, springing from her back legs. Bella's head ducked into her fur as they flew through the window. It was a good thing she did or her head would have bonked on the wooden support that had crashed through the window.

Jamie landed on all fours, glass tinkling beneath her feet as it scattered. She needed to get off the porch. Now. She had the feeling the bomb would erupt any minute. They had to be as far away as possible—just in case.

Thankfully the Colonel and his men had stopped firing bullets in her direction. The sound of gunshots was still very vivid in her ears. Their was a battle going on in the Colonel's encampment. A picture of Porter entered her mind. Porter being shot. Falling. She shook her head. She couldn't think about him now or she might very well go insane. She didn't know what she would do if he got hurt. He was the one solid thing in her life.

Her feet skittered across the hard-packed mud as she made a run for it. She would be far away in seconds. Nothing would be able to hurt them. But the sight of a limp hand caught her vision. It was visible, just peaking out from behind the largest scraggly bush on the property.

Mr. Carlyle. She couldn't leave him. Even if he was dead.

Jamie turned back and hurried toward the man. The girl on her back whimpered in a high-pitched voice. "Daddy?"

Her father didn't move. He was slumped on the ground, blood running from an open wound in his stomach. And it wouldn't stop. It just kept pouring from his form. Jamie gagged out of her wolf mouth. She searched for the TryptoKeri that he should have taken to prevent this. It was still grasped within a limp hand.

Jamie sniffed him. He didn't smell of death. Not yet.

She took hold of his shirt and began to drag him away from the house, moving as fast as she could while still balancing a child on her back. It was hard to pay attention to both at the same time—and Mr. Carlyle wasn't exactly very light. Her breath was heaving heavily in her lungs.

She considered stopping as soon as they had reached the end of the property. The explosives probably wouldn't have a perimeter much farther than fifteen feet around the house. Besides, if she moved one step further, she'd be in tall yellow grass.

She couldn't risk it. She dragged Mr. Carlyle off another twenty feet. The hands gripped in her fur squeezed tighter. Finally, Jamie stopped, exhausted. No sooner than she had stopped there was a deafening explosion.

The ground exploded, kicking up great bowels of dirt. A wave of energy flew toward them. In a split second, they had been picked up and had fallen about ten feet. Heat scalded her like a sunburn. Bits of silver shrapnel stuck into her flesh. They dotted the child and her father too.

Bella began to cry softly.

Jamie cursed herself for her mistake. If only she had kept running, but she was so tired. Of course the Colonel and Doug hadn't placed the bombs in the house! They'd been in the dirt itself! Only a few days ago, that hard packed dirt had been squelching mud. It would have been easy to bury the explosives in that—and totally unpredictable.

Jamie began to change. Her form lengthened and pinkened. Her muscles withered back to those of a human form. She lost her acute senses. She suddenly felt as though she was blind and couldn't hear properly. Her ears may have been better than a human's, but they felt absolutely useless. Worst of all, her clothes were in tatters. They were luckily still clinging to her form and hiding all the important places as well as a little more.

"It hurts!" Bella was crying as blood was escaping from all of her tiny little wounds. Blood that wouldn't stop because it wouldn't clot. The silver was already reacting with Bella's bloodstream—with both of their bloodstreams.

Her eyes darted to the TryptoKeri still clutched within Mr. Carlyle's grasp. She could smell the life still clinging to him. Faintly.

Jamie hurried to his side, prying the bottle from his grasp. He held to the bottle like it was his last chance at life. It was, of course. When she had finally been able to pry the little bottle loose, she let out a triumphant little shout.

She twisted the cap, pouring a good measure into Mr. Carlyle's mouth. She was worried he wouldn't be able to swallow when unconscious. The man's throat moved reflexively as the red liquid hit the back of his throat.

Jamie sighed with relief. "He's going to be okay," she told Bella, hoping against hope that she was right. It depended on how fast the TryptoKeri reached his bloodstream in time.

She turned to the little child next, pouring the TryptoKeri into her mouth. She couldn't help looking at the child with angry disgust. How could the Colonel have treated her so horribly? Her clothes were dirty and mussed. It was hard to make out the picture of "My Little Pony" on the front anymore. The child's cheeks were streaked in dirt and tears and tiny red streaks dappled the surface of her face.

Jamie glanced at the last few drops of TryptoKeri in the bottle and hoped they would be enough. It was debatable if the small amount would even make it to her bloodstream. With a quick flick of her wrist, she downed what was rest, doing her best not to gag reflexively. The TryptoKeri tasted absolutely disgusting. It left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue.

The first thing she would do when she got home would be to scrub her tongue of this awful tasting concoction. But for now, she had to worry about the people on the hill. Her thoughts turned back to her friends, her colony, fighting the Colonel's men. She supposed it would be all right to leave Bella for a few minu—

A dark form rushed at her, knocking her from her knees to her back in one swift movement. The air burst out from her lungs upon landing. The guy pinned her easily, slipping the silver dagger to her throat.

She hadn't been paying attention. How could she have missed him stocking up on the group? She was a wolf! Things like this just didn't happen.

"For my sister," the guy said between gritted teeth.

Jamie stared up into darkly furious and lost eyes.

"Doug," she croaked.