Blood Trail

reckless behavior.

    Even in jeans and running shoes, the creature had a certain wolflike grace, and as Mark watched it jump the fence and start toward the car he became convinced that this was the other version of the animal he'd seen by the mailbox yesterday. The set of its head, the expression of wary curiosity, was, given the variation in form, identical.

    He rolled down the window, having already determined how to take advantage of this chance meeting. He'd always believed he did his best work off the cuff. "You one of the Heerkens?"

    "Yeah. What of it?"

    "You may have noticed me around a bit lately."

    "Yeah."

    Mark recognized the stance. The creature wanted to be a hero. Well, keep your pants on, you'll get your chance. "I've, uh, had my eye on your little problem."

    "What problem's that?"

    He pointed his finger and said, "Bang. Hear you lost two members of your family this month.
    I have, uh ..." The sudden noise startled him, especially when he realized what it was. The creature was growling, the sound beginning deep in its throat and emerging clearly as threat.
    Mark pulled his arm into the car and kept one finger on the window control. No point taking unnecessary chances. "I have information that might help you catch the person responsible.
    Are you interested?"

    Russet brows drew down. "Why tell me?"

    Mark smiled, being careful not to show his teeth. "Do you see anyone else to tell? I thought you might want to do something about it."

    The growling faded and stopped. "But ..."

    "Never mind." Mark shrugged. Careful now, it's almost hooked. ... "If you'd rather sit safely at home while other people save your family. ..."He started to raise the window.

    "No! Wait! Tell me."

    Got him. "My uncle, Carl Biehn ..."

    "The grasseater?"

    The disgust in the interruption couldn't be missed. Mark hid a grin. He'd been about to say his uncle had seen something through his binoculars while bird-watching but hurriedly rewrote the script to take advantage of the prejudice of a predator for a vegetarian. Even if it did throw his uncle to the wolves. So to speak. "Yeah. The grasseater. He's the one. But no one'll believe you if you just tell them, so meet me in his old barn tonight after dark and I'll give you the proof."

    "I don't believe you."

    "Suit yourself. But just in case you decide your family's worth a bit of your time, I'll be in the barn at sunset. I suppose you can tell your ... people anyway." He sighed deeply, shaking his head. "But you know that without proof they won't believe you - A grasseater? Ha! - not any more than you believe me and if you don't come, you'll have missed your only chance. Not something I'd like to have on my conscience."

    Mark raised the window and drove away before the creature had a chance to sort out the convolutions of that last sentence and ask more questions. A number of things could go wrong with the plan, but he was pretty sure he'd read the beast correctly and the risk fell within acceptable limits.

    He glanced in the rearview mirror to see the creature still standing by the side of the road.
    Pretty soon it would convince itself that, regardless of the stranger's motives, it couldn't hurt to check out the proof. In the way of the young, it wouldn't bother telling anyone else, not until it was sure.

    "Come on, save the world. Be a hero. Impress the girls." Mark patted the bundle of leg-hold traps on the seat beside him. "Make me rich."

    Rose got back to the fence with the jug of water just as the dust trail behind the car began to settle. She'd seen Peter talking to someone but hadn't been able to either see or smell who it was.

    "Hey!" she called. "You standing in the road for a reason?"

    Peter started.

    "Peter? What's wrong?"

    "Nothing." He shook himself and came back over the fence. "Nothing's wrong."

    Rose frowned. That was a blatant lie. About to call him on it, she remembered the advice Aunt Nadine had given her when she'd mentioned Peter's recent moodiness. "Let him have a little space, Rose. It's hard for boys around this age." They'd never had secrets from each other before, but perhaps Aunt Nadine was right.

    "Here." She held out the jug. "Maybe this will make you feel better."

    "Maybe." But he doubted it. Then their fingers touched and he felt the light caress sizzle up his arm and resonate though his entire body. The world went away as he drank in her scent, musky and warm and so very, very close. He swayed. He felt the jug pulled from his