I finally understood. “So you think the person who killed those two women is an indestructible, supernaturally fast and strong apex predator that’s specifically targeting humans,” I summarized.

Will sighed, and I turned all the way around in my seat to squint at him. He looked tired, and older than I’d ever seen before. “Yes,” he said simply.

Jesse and I looked at each other. “If this was Scooby-Doo, one of us would say ‘gulp,’” I pointed out.

Jesse made a face at me. “Gulp.”

Chapter 13

We hit the canyon road and began winding down toward the freeway. Jesse and Will were both silent, but there was a weight to it, like you could just hear everyone in the van thinking.

Will had said that werewolves behave more or less like ordinary wolves with magical enhancements. I’d never really thought of it in those terms before, but it made sense. I’d taken a lot of biology classes in high school, back when I was hoping to become a veterinarian, and I knew a little bit about wolf behavior. Wolves generally don’t attack people, not unless they’re truly cornered or starving to death. Basically, unless there are no other options. And I knew that werewolves have no particular interest in attacking humans, either. Eli had once mentioned that the one time the LA pack had encountered humans during the full moon, Will had directed his wolves away from the trespassing campers without an incident. That was part of why the Old World was able to stay hidden: werewolves in wolf form just weren’t the bloodthirsty, slavering meat fiends bent on eating people that you see in the movies. In their wolf form, they rarely attacked humans, and therefore rarely killed or changed anyone.

So a big, indestructible wolf that specifically hunted humans was a nightmare. And because so few people change when they’ve been bitten nowadays, it wasn’t much better than a serial killer. “Why women?” I wondered aloud, breaking the silence that had fallen over the van. “Does he think males will challenge his dominance?”

“No again,” Will answered tensely. “Remember, he wants to procreate. He wants to be the male half of the dominant couple, even if they can’t reproduce sexually.”

“So he’s trying to make a mate.” I finished, catching on. “Holy crap, it’s Frankenstein.”

“You mean Frankenstein’s creature,” Jesse corrected me primly. “‘Frankenstein’ was the name of the doctor who created it.”

“No, I mean Frankenstein, the work of literature,” I retorted. “The title. We’re in Frankenstein, meaning the title.”

“Kids!” Will barked. “Can we get back to the point?”

“Sorry,” Jesse muttered.

“What happens if he gets what he wants?” I asked. “If he builds a pack?”

“Wolf packs are territorial,” Will reported. “When he’s got his own, he’ll come after mine. Not to recruit.”

“To kill,” Jesse stated grimly.

There was another long silence in the van. We’d gotten off the freeway, and Jesse rolled down his window, letting the chilly city air surge into the van. It smelled like Dumpsters and Chinese food and car exhaust.

My city.

It’s easy to forget, especially given the last few months, that when it comes to the Old World, LA is supposed to be this oasis of peace. Although certain events or people might intrude on the status quo, compared to most places we have a very unique and somewhat delicate balance. No single supernatural faction runs the city, not even the vampires. But if Will were ousted, if the werewolf pack were obliterated and a new, psychotic alpha stepped in, that balance would be destroyed. Dashiell would have to start interfering with pack business more, just to keep their actions hidden. I doubted the nova would take kindly to vampire interference, and the conflict would escalate. There would be fighting. Soon people who have no business fighting would have to go to war. The peace would fall.

Plus . . . Will was kind of my friend. At the very least, I didn’t want him to die.

“I get that he wants to grow his pack,” Jesse said suddenly. The sounds of traffic streamed through the open window, and he had to shout a little for us to hear. “But why the two different methods? He ate part of one woman, scratched up the other . . .”

I turned my head and shoulders to look back at Will, who nodded as if he’d been expecting that question. “I think he’s experimenting. I’ve seen attempts to change someone before, successful and unsuccessful, but I’ve never seen anything this calculating and cold. It’s just . . .”

“Nuts?” I volunteered.

“Scientific,” he corrected me grimly.

“Hang on,” Jesse insisted. “We need to go back to the part where we’ve got two bodies, two nights in a row, both attacked by werewolves. You said they can’t change that often, so is there more than one nova? Could it be something else, like . . . I don’t know, a group of random werewolves experimenting with magic, or a werewolf serial killer, something like that?”

“It’s possible,” Will admitted. Jesse took an on-ramp, and the sudden shift jostled the werewolf, forcing him to tilt sideways and catch himself on the van’s carpeted floor. When he recovered, Will added, “But I think perhaps he kidnapped both women at different times, restrained them, and changed. Then he tried the two different methods.”

“It just took Kathryn Wong longer to die,” I whispered. Goose bumps suddenly broke out on my arms, and it had nothing to do with the air from Jesse’s window. “Oh, God,” I whispered, so softly that neither man looked at me. I wouldn’t have known how to speak if they had.