WHO WERE WE RUNNING from? I’d seen enough horror flicks to know that howl had come from a wolf, and there were no wild ones left in New York State. That meant werewolf.

Liam and Ramon, the two who’d tried to grab Derek the other day, had said all of the state was the territory of the Pack, who’d hunt and kill any trespassing werewolves. Obviously they weren’t that thorough-Derek had lived here all his life. But had they finally found him?

If it wasn’t the Pack, then who had whistled? Andrew said the Edison Group didn’t hire werewolves. Was he wrong? If they wanted someone to track their missing subjects, a werewolf would be the best supernatural bloodhound around.

Right now, it didn’t matter. Derek knew who’d whistled; and even if he couldn’t tell me, his actions said we were in trouble, and all we could do was hope to outrun it.

“There’s a creek over there,” I said, pointing. “If it’s a werewolf that we’re trying to lose, water will hide our trail, right?”

He answered by veering that way.

The creek wasn’t much more than a trickle, but it was enough to swallow our trail. As we ran, it cut deeper into the earth, banks rising to small cliffs on either side. If we kept going, we might find ourselves trapped.

Derek took the lead, scrambling up the creek bank with me following, soaked sneakers sliding in the dirt as I grabbed roots to pull myself up. I moved as quietly as I could, knowing any werewolf would share Derek’s keen hearing.

We ran along the embankment until we reached a thick patch of woods. Derek herded me into a clearing in the middle of it. He crouched in the center, his front legs stretched out, his head and tail down. Trying to Change back to human form. After a few minutes of straining and snarling, he gave up.

“We can’t stay here,” I said. “If it’s a werewolf-”

He grunted, confirming that.

“Then he’s eventually going to find our trail. These woods aren’t that big.”

Another grunt. I know.

“I think the house is that way.”

He shook his head and pointed his muzzle a little more to the left.

“Okay, good,” I said. “So we just need to-”

He went still again, nose rising, ears turning. I crouched beside him. He kept sniffing, grumbling deep in his throat, like he’d caught a scent he couldn’t seem to find again. Finally, he prodded me toward the mouth of the clearing with a noise that I thought meant run, but when I shot forward, he caught the back of my jacket between his teeth.

“Go slow?” I whispered. “Quietly?”

A grunt. Yes.

He slid in front of me and took a step. Then another. A cloud rolled over the moon and the forest went black. We stopped. A twig cracked to our right. Derek spun so fast he crashed into me, pushing me back as I stumbled, snapping at me when I didn’t move fast enough.

As I retreated into the clearing, I could make out a dark shape at the edge. At another twig crack, Derek slammed into the back of my legs, pushing and jostling me until I was at the far side of the clearing, then prodding me into the thick brush.

“I can’t-” I whispered.

He snapped and growled. Yes, you can.

I got down on all fours and pushed into the brush, hands in front of my face to clear the way. I’d gone only a few feet when I hit a tree. Thick bushes blocked either side. I twisted to tell Derek that I couldn’t continue, but he’d stopped at the edge of my hole, his backside blocking the entrance.

The cloud cover thinned, and a figure materialized in the path. It was another wolf, as black as Derek. It seemed to roll toward us, silent as fog, slowly and steadily drifting our way.

The clouds finally passed by the moon, but the wolf was still black as night from his nose to his eyes. I noticed pale stripes along one flank. When I squinted, I saw that they were strips of missing fur, the uncovered skin pink and puckered with recent scar tissue. I’d seen those scars just a few days before.

“Ramon,” I whispered.

Derek snarled, fur rising, tail puffing, fangs flashing. But the other wolf kept coming at us, steady and relentless. Finally, with a roar, Derek rushed at him.

Ramon stopped. He didn’t back up. Didn’t even growl. He just stood his ground until Derek was almost on him, then feinted to the side and ran straight at me.

Derek tried to stop, but he’d put too much momentum into the charge and he skidded into the brush.

As Ramon barreled toward me, I scrambled to get away, but the brush was too thick. Fortunately, it was too thick for him, too, and he couldn’t get any farther than Derek had, just close enough for me to smell the stink of his breath as he tried to shoulder his way deeper into the undergrowth.

Then he yelped and flew back with Derek’s teeth embedded in his haunch. Ramon yanked free and lunged at him. Derek ducked and tore past Ramon to block the mouth of my hiding place.

For a moment, all I could see was Derek’s tail. Then I glimpsed Ramon off to the side, backing up, peering around Derek, like he was assessing the situation.

He lunged to the left. Derek sprang that way, snapping and snarling. Ramon feinted right. Derek blocked. Left again. Blocked again. It was like that evening in the playground when Liam kept pretending to grab for me, taunting Derek, laughing as he reacted every time.

“He’s teasing you,” I whispered. “Trying to wear you down. Don’t fall for it.”

Derek grunted. He tensed, like he was locking his legs. But it didn’t help. Every time Ramon made a move my way, Derek jumped, snapping and growling.

Finally Ramon tired of the game and ran full out at Derek. They hit with a bone-cracking thud and went down, biting and growling, grunting and yelping when fangs sank in.

My hand tightened around my switchblade. I knew I should do something. Leap into the fray. Protect Derek. But I couldn’t. The other day, seeing Derek and Liam fighting in human form, they’d moved too fast for me to interfere. That was slow-motion compared to this, a frenzied ball of fur and fury rolling across the clearing, one indistinguishable mass of black fur and flashing fangs and spattering blood.

I had to do something, because Derek had a serious handicap: me. He couldn’t seem to forget I was there, and every time Ramon rolled my way, Derek stopped fighting to get between us again.

I wanted to tell him to forget about me. I was fine, burrowed deep in the undergrowth and armed, and there was no sign of Ramon’s partner, Liam. But I knew it wouldn’t do any good. That protective instinct overrode reason.

I stood, reached as high as I could, and grabbed the bottom branch of the tree behind me. My stitched arm complained, but I ignored it. I clambered up. Climbing was easy. The tough part was not looking down every time I heard a grunt or a yelp.

Finally I was too high for Ramon to reach. I called to Derek, telling him I was safe. He still had to check, of course, glancing up and getting a hunk of fur ripped out of his neck. But once he saw where I was, he threw himself fully into the fight.

Still, as big as Derek was, he was no match for an experienced adult werewolf. When faced with Liam, Derek had run the other way, admitting he was outclassed. There might be a streak of arrogance in Derek, but there wasn’t any bravado. If he couldn’t win a fight, he had no problem running.

This time, though, he couldn’t run.

I clutched the knife and wiggled out along the branch until I was over the fighters.

Speaking of bravado…

I stopped, feeling a prick of guilt at even thinking of something so stupid. If I dropped onto them, I’d be lucky if I didn’t get Derek killed trying to protect me.

I hated cowering there like a helpless heroine. Yet I was helpless against Ramon. I didn’t have superhuman strength or superhuman senses or fangs or claws or magical powers.