Another howl cut at him, like a sharp blade slicing at the nape of his neck. Woods . . .

Her hands held his face, her eyes two bottomless pools. “You’re human. You’re not all wolf. You don’t have to run. You’re human. Look at me. You’re Derek. If you run now, you’ll die.”

If he ran, she couldn’t keep up.

“You’re human, Derek.”

Her voice severed the welling panic. He felt reason returning slowly, slipping through pain and instinct. The things that howled would find them soon, and he was in no shape to fight. “We have to get to shelter.”

She let him go. “If you run, the spell will lock on you, and you won’t be able to break away. Don’t run, Derek.”

“I won’t.”

He turned around, fighting dizziness. A building—an old warehouse— loomed above the ruins to the right. It was obvious, but he didn’t care. They needed shelter. He pointed to it. She nodded.

A sharp, triumphant howl sliced through the night. A hound was feet away, and it had just caught their scent.

TO THE LEFT, THE WALLS CAME together under a sharp angle, leaving only a narrow gap, half-choked by rubble. Anywhere else would put them into the open. He pointed to it.

Julie reached into her sack and pulled out a plastic bag of yellow powder. He took a deep breath and thrust his hoodie over his nose and mouth. She tossed the handful of wolfsbane into the air and backed toward him. They slipped into the gap. It terminated in a solid wall less than ten feet away. To the right, another wall. Above them, metal bars crossed. He could break them, but not without making noise. They were trapped in the twelve-by-twelve-feet space.

He went to ground. Julie lowered herself next to him. They peered through the gaps between broken bricks and dirt. Something grunted low and deep just behind the corner. Something big.

Derek lay completely still. The silver had eaten a hole in his chest and was trying to reach his heart.

Another grunt, harsh, loud. A beast ran into the open, huge, at least three hundred pounds and covered with long, coarse brown fur. In a bad light, he’d mistake it for a boar: It had the bulk, the shape, and the enormous boar jaws armed with tusks and massive teeth. But it had no hooves. Its legs terminated in clawed paws.

He had no idea if the wolfsbane would work on it.

The boar-hound snarled under its breath, sucking in the air. Small vicious eyes stared, unblinking. The creature took a step closer to the gap.

Next to him Julie held completely still. She couldn’t take a hound. She’d need a spear. The tomahawks wouldn’t do it. He had to fix himself fast or neither of them would get out alive.

Another step.

Another.

He reached for his knife.