Chapter 19

~Don’t let me be too late. Please, don’t let me be too late.~ The thought circled in my head like a mantra as I pushed my little car to the limit trying to get to Channelside on time. The district wasn’t far from my house, but I got stuck in Friday night traffic on the way, people trying to get to the trendy new restaurant and shopping district that had grown up around the Forum where the Tampa Bay Lightning played.

I thought about calling the police as I drove, but even if Genevieve hadn’t done that already, I just wasn’t sure I wanted them involved. I mean, what was I supposed to tell them, that I needed help freeing my brother who was being held by the mob for turning into a werewolf and slaughtering one of their button men? And what if Richard was…in his other form when they found him? He’d be locked up and probably taken away by the government to be studied like some kind of freak. No, I couldn’t risk it. It was better to go alone and see if there was any way I could get him out myself before I involved anyone in authority. I just hoped I’d get there before Genevieve’s back-up—if she had gotten a chance to call them, that was.

There was one call I did make, though. I left a brief message on Charles’s voicemail telling him not to worry if I didn’t make it to the rehearsal dinner. I said there had been an emergency with a friend and that I would get back to him as soon as I could. I felt guilty for the little white lie, but the last thing I needed was for Charles to put out an APB on me. Call finished, I threw the cell phone in the back seat and put my fiancé, my rehearsal dinner, and my upcoming wedding completely out of my mind. Richard was the only person who mattered to me now. I had to concentrate on finding him. Finding him and bringing him home.

“Come on, come on,” I muttered under my breath as I looked for a back street, trying to get out of the bottleneck of cars lined up to get to the parking garage. I finally managed it and headed in the direction of the abandoned warehouses. It was already getting dark by the time I spotted Genevieve’s car, parked at a discrete distance from the Ormond warehouse, which sat like a huge white ghost in the gathering gloom.

I got out of my car warily and made my way around to the side of the big building. I didn’t see any lights burning in the broken windows, but the warehouse didn’t ~feel~ empty to my highly attuned senses. I walked softly around the edge of broken concrete that encircled the warehouse, keeping my eyes wide for any danger. My plan, such as it was, was simple. Find a way in, rescue Richard, and get him out of there. I didn’t have any idea how I was going to manage that considering I was an unarmed woman alone, but I was hoping that maybe I’d be able to sneak in and have him out before anyone noticed he was missing.

I was so intent on not making a sound that I almost missed the small sliver object lying on the ground in front of me. It was far to the side, half hidden in a straggly clump of weeds that had grown up between the cracks in the concrete. But the last rays of the setting sun caught it just right and reflected a glare into my eyes. I stooped instinctively to pick it up and recognized it at once—Genevieve’s cell phone. Turning it over, I saw it had a smear of blood on it. Oh, God, what had I gotten her into?

I looked to my left and saw a broken window with jagged shards of glass sticking out of its frame like loose teeth about eye level. Remembering that Genevieve had said she was looking at Richard as she talked, I stepped over to the window and stood on my tiptoes to look in. The interior of the warehouse was a large, cavernous space that was only dimly lit by the weak light from the setting sun. In the center of it, I saw a large iron holding cage that looked like something you might see at the zoo or circus.

I caught my breath when I saw that Richard was lying in the middle of the cage on his side. As Genevieve had said, he looked sick. He was lying half on his side facing me, and he had his eyes closed. He was shirtless, and his muscular chest moved up and down rapidly with his shallow breaths. Every once in a while, he would stir and cry out in a low, hoarse voice, like a man having a terrible nightmare.

“~Richard~,” I hissed, not daring to raise my voice too much in case I attracted the attention of whoever was holding him. ~“Richard!”~

Slowly, his eyes opened and he looked up at me from where he was lying on the floor of the cage. His pale green eyes, so exactly like my own, were dull and lifeless, and there looked to be at least a week’s stubble on his cheeks. How long had he been a prisoner here?

“Rachel?” he asked. “Is that really you or just another dream?” There was a hopelessness in his deep voice that shook me to the core. God, I had to get him out of there!

“It’s me,” I said, wishing I was tall enough to climb through the window. Then I had an idea. “It’s really me, Richard,” I told him. “Here, smell.” Carefully, I put my arm through the broken window and waved it at him, hoping to waft some of my scent his way. If he didn’t believe his eyes, maybe he would believe his nose. I knew an ordinary man wouldn’t have been able to catch the faint fragrance of my skin from twenty yards away, but Richard was anything but ordinary.

I saw his nostrils flare, and he sat up suddenly. “Rachel!” His voice had lost all its apathy and was charged with urgency.

“Hold on,” I told him. “I’m going to get you out of there.”

“No, you can’t,” he said. “This thing is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Just get out of here and get some help. And ~hurry~. Whoever you call has to be here before moonrise or your friend is going to be in serious trouble.”

“My friend?” I followed his gesturing hand to what I had assumed was a crumpled mass of clothes in the corner of his cage. My heart stopped beating when I saw that it was Genevieve. The light was so dim it was hard to tell how badly she was hurt, but I thought I could make out a smudge of blood on the side of her head when I looked closely.

“She’s out cold,” Richard said. “And they took her gun, so she doesn’t even have anything to defend herself with.”

“Defend herself? Who does she need to defend herself from?” I asked. I didn’t see any of the people who must be holding them in the cage around. It was just Richard and Genevieve in there, and as far as I could see, no one was threatening them at the moment.

“Me, Rachel. She needs something to defend herself from ~me~. There’s going to be a full moon tonight—I can already feel it calling me. And if she’s left alone in here with me when I change…” He let the words trail off, and I felt my stomach do a slow, forward roll. My God, he wouldn’t really hurt Genevieve, would he? But if he was as mindless in beast form as he claimed, then how could he help it? Richard was right—I had to go get help, and I had to get it fast. Already the last light of the dying sun was fading from the sky. How long until moonrise? Not long enough, I was terribly afraid.

“I’ll call right now,” I said, fumbling with Genevieve’s cell phone. “I’ll call 911 and--”

“Rachel, behind you!”

Suddenly, the small hairs at the nape of my neck stood up, and I heard the scrape of shoes on the concrete behind me.

I knew I was in trouble.