LA Banks Crimson Moon 01 Bad Blood

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in the morning, she drew her nine-millimeter and carefully opened his front
door with a key.
The stench was so acrid that she immediately covered her nose with her forearm
and breathed against her leather jacket sleeve. Her eyes watered as her
horrified gaze took it all in. Flies fled toward the porch light, despite the
frigid temps. Carcasses littered the floors. A chant took over her mind: Oh.
God. Oh, God Please, not Rod.
Remnants of a dog with tags still dangling from the collar around its neck lay
at her feet. Sasha shut her eyes and swallowed hard and then opened them again
as she stood in the dark about to dry-heave. Half of a cat. Her eyes followed
the scattered entrails to discover the other half of it on the sofa. Her line
of vision tracked a wide smear of dried blood across what had once been
gleaming hardwood floors and a Turkish rug to the stairs that led to Rod's
bedroom. At the top of the landing her stricken gaze stopped at a well-eaten
deer carcass and everything that was wriggling on it.
Trembling with revulsion, she briefly lowered her arm away from her face and
did the unthinkable she took in a substantial inhale through her nose and
began to separate the scents. She had to know if there might be a human body
inside this town-house-turned-tomb. She no longer feared that Rod's would be
among any human remains she might find. Her sole objective was to know in
advance where she might find such carnage before she tripped over it and
freaked out. But the scent scan only revealed Rod's unmistakable signature and
that of animal remains.
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Deeper worries claimed her, however. They'd all been sent to Afghanistan
together, and if Rod had flipped out like this& Perhaps the least of her
worries was the strange wolf.
Sasha kept walking, patrolling, not even sure of what she was searching for,
because Rod was obviously not there.
Rivulets of sweat coursed down her back now, the death vibrations were so
intense in the confined space. Every fiber of her was poised to bolt and run
toward fresh air. She wanted to feel the cleansing power of the night and wind
on her skin to peel off the wretched scents that clung to her hair and
clothes.
Her sweater and pants stuck to her as she eased deeper into the apartment, her
gun in a lethal grip, her chest rising and falling in short agonized bursts.
Foul-scent taste covered her tongue as she sipped the decay-thickened air. She
headed for the refrigerator to see if his vials were still there. Her cowboy
boot crunched something that she hoped was plastic.
She stooped down and picked up a crushed needle and then gazed at the kitchen
floor strewn with his entire month's supply of them. Frantic, she began
picking each one up and inspecting it in the dim moonlight that filtered
through the windows. Each had serum residue in it. The cabinets down low were
shredded with huge claw marks, as were the tiles.
Mentally reconstructing, she looked at the abused condition of what had once
been new appliances. It seemed as though he'd gone to the refrigerator, gotten
his meds& panicked& got more& and more& nearly overdosing to stop something
from happening. She swallowed hard, knowing now what that something was. She
squatted low and touched a cabinet with trembling fingertips and allowed them
to follow the deep gashes in the wood. He'd fallen, convulsed, and Turned. She
drew her hand back quickly as though it had been burned, and stood.
"Oh, Rod& " she whispered into the emptiness around her. "One of us should have
been here with you." For a moment the room became blurry. "I should have been
here with you." But if she had been, what could she have done?
"I wish you had been," a low, gravelly voice said.
Sasha jerked her attention toward the voice, muscles coiled, heart beating in
near arrhythmia as she spied Rod in the hall shadows. From his silhouette she
could see that he was naked and his hair tousled. But his eyes& God in heaven,
they glowed in the darkness. Instinct made her level her weapon at him.
"Missed you, babe," he said with chilling amusement in his voice. "I got
fucked up in Afghanistan, had to come home to heal."
She could barely speak, but slowly moved out of the kitchen where she felt
boxed in. Trapped. "What happened over there, Rod?" she whispered.
He let out a long exhale as though bored. "The pack turned on me, babe.
Fucking losers." He stepped forward and she noticed that he favored his left
side. "But I ate, and I feel so much better now. Did I mention that I missed
you?"
"You've gotta get to a hospital& to Doc Holland on the base. He's the only one
that knows how " [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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