The sound of his dress shoes seemed loud in the darkening church. I heard him say something to Jenks followed by the faint boom of the front door closing.

Ivy wasn't pleased. "That was a stupid thing to do," she said.

"I know." I wouldn't look at her, mixing the sugar and butter with a rough quickness.

"Then why did you do it?"

I kept stirring. "Maybe because unlike you, I like being touched," I said wearily. "Maybe because I miss Nick. Maybe because he's been gone the last three months and I've been too stupid to notice. Back off, Ivy. I'm not your shadow."

"No," she agreed, less angry than I expected. "I'm your roommate, and Kist is more dangerous than he lets on. I've seen him do this before. He wants to hunt you. Hunt you slow."

I stilled my motions and looked at her. "Slower than you?" I questioned bitterly.

She stared at me. "I'm not hunting you," she said, sounding hurt. "You won't let me."

Letting go of the spoon, I put my hands to either side of the bowl and bowed my head over it. We were the pair. One too afraid to feel anything lest she lose control of her iron-clad hold on her emotions, and the other so hungry to feel anything that she'd risk her free will for one night of fun. How I had kept from being a vampire's flunky this long was a miracle.

"He's waiting for you," I said as I heard Kisten's car revving through the insulated walls of the church. "Go satiate yourself. I don't like it when you don't."

Ivy swung into motion. Not saying a word, she stiffly walked out, boots thumping on the hardwood floor. The sound of the church's door shutting was quiet. Slowly the ticking of the clock above the sink became obvious. Taking a slow breath, I pulled my head up, wondering how in hell I had become her keeper.

The rhythmic thumps of my running feet jolting up my spine were a pleasant distraction from my thoughts of Nick. It was bright, the sun glittering off the piles of snow to make me squint through my new sunglasses. I had left my old pair in Takata's limo, and the new ones didn't fit as well. This was the second day in a row that I had gotten up at an ungodly ten in the morning to come out and run, and by the Turn, I was going to run this time. Jogging after midnight wasn't as fun—too many weirdos. Besides, I had a date tonight with Kisten.

The thought zinged through me, and my pace increased. Each puffed breath was timed with my steps to make a hypnotic tempo luring me into a runner's high. I picked up the pace even more, reveling in it. An old witch couple was ahead of me doing a fast walk/run as I passed the bear exhibit. They were watching with a hungry interest. The bears, not the witches. I think that's why management let us runners in. We gave the large predators something to watch besides kids in strollers and tired parents.

Actually, our collective group of runners had taken it upon ourselves to adopt the Indochina tiger exhibit with just that in mind. The funds for their upkeep and health care came entirely from our special-pass fees. They ate very well.

"Track!" I exclaimed breathily in time with my steps, and the two witches slid aside, making a spot for me. "Thanks," I said as I passed them, catching their heavy redwood scent in the crisp, painfully dry air.

The sound of their companionable conversation quickly retreated. I spared a confused, angry thought for Nick. I didn't need him to run; I could run by myself. He hadn't run with me much lately anyway, not since I got my car and didn't need to bum a ride from him.

Yeah, right, I thought, my jaw clenching. It wasn't the car. It was something else. Something he wouldn't tell me about. Something that "frankly wasn't my business."

"Track!" I heard faintly from someone not far behind.

It was low and controlled. Whoever it was, they were keeping up with me with no trouble. All my warning flags went up. Let's see if you can run, I thought, taking a deep breath.

Different muscles eased into play like gears shifting as I pushed into a faster pace, my heart pounding and the cold air slicing in and out of me. I was already going at a good clip, my natural pace somewhere between a long distance run and a sprint. It had made me a favorite in the eight hundred meter in high school and had stood me in good stead when I worked for the I.S. and needed to run down the occasional tag. Now, my calves protested at the increased speed and my lungs began to burn. As I passed the rhinos and cut a left, I vowed to get out here more; I was going soft.

No one was ahead of me. Even the keepers were absent. I listened, hearing his pace increase to match mine. I snuck a quick look back as I made a sharp left.

It was a Were, somewhat short and lanky, sleek in matching gray running pants and long-sleeve shirt. His long black hair was held back with an exercise band, and there was no strain on his placid face as he kept up with me.

Crap. My heart gave an extra hard thump. Even without the cowboy hat and wool duster, I recognized him. Crap, crap, crap.

My pace quickened with a surge of adrenaline. It was the same Were. Why was he following me? My thoughts drifted back further than yesterday. I'd seen him before. Lots of befores. He was at the watch counter last week when Ivy and I were picking out a new perfume, to overpower my natural scent mixing with hers. He had been putting air into his tires three weeks ago when I was pumping gas and locked myself out of my car. And three months ago I'd seen him leaning against a tree when Trent and I talked at Eden Park.

My jaw clenched. Maybe it's time we chatted? I thought as I ran past the cat house.

There was a drop-off ahead by the eagles. I cut a right, leaning back as I went downhill. Mr. Were followed. As I thumped along behind the eagle exhibit, I took stock of what I had. In my belt pack were my keys, my phone, a mild pain amulet already invoked, and my minisplat gun loaded with sleepy time potions. No help there; I wanted to talk to him, not knock him out.

The path opened up into a wide deserted section. No one ran down here because the hill was such a killer to get back up. Perfect. Heart pounding, I went left to take the slope instead of heading for the Vine Street entrance. A smile curved over me as his pace faltered. He hadn't expected that. Leaning into the hill, I ran up it full tilt, seeming to be in slow motion. The path was narrow and snow-covered. He followed.

Here, I thought as I reached the top. Panting, I snuck a quick look behind me and jerked off the path and into the thick shrubbery. My lungs burned as I held my breath.

He passed me with the sound of feet and heavy breathing, intent on his steps. Reaching the top, he hesitated, looking to see which way I had gone. His dark eyes were pinched and the first signs of physical distress furrowed his brow.

Taking a breath, I leapt.

He heard me, but it was too late. I landed against him as he spun, pinning him against an old oak. His breath whooshed out as his back hit, his eyes going wide and surprised. My fingers went chokingly under his chin to hold him there, and my fist hit his solar plexus.

Gasping, he bent forward. I let go, and he fell to sit at the base of the tree, holding his stomach. A thin backpack slid up almost over his head.

"Who in hell are you and why have you been tailing me the last three months!" I shouted, trusting the odd hour and the closed status of the zoo to keep our conversation private.

Head bowed over his chest, the Were put a hand in the air. It was small for a man, and thick, with short powerful-looking fingers. Sweat had turned his spandex shirt a darker gray, and he slowly moved his well-muscled legs into a less awkward position.

I took a step back, my hand on my hip, lungs heaving as I recovered from the climb. Angry, I took off my sunglasses and hung them from my waistband and waited.