The Savage Grace

It was Talbot’s number. Relief gripped me so hard I almost missed answering it in time.

“Talbot!” I said into my phone. “Thank heaven—”

“Wow. Twenty missed calls? And you claim not to like me—”

“Shut up,” I said. “I need to tell you, don’t go to the warehouse. You can’t go—”

“We’re already here. I’m keeping watch while the others head inside.”

“No! There’s a bomb. Whatever you do, don’t let them go inside.”

“There’s a what? Sorry, you cut out. I’m in the underground corridor between … Depot and … warehouse. Just a sec.”

I could tell from the distance in his voice that he’d lowered the phone from his ear before he’d finished talking. I shouted as loud as I could so he might still hear me, “No! Listen to me—”

“Go ahead. It’s just Grace,” I heard Talbot’s voice call to someone on his end of the line.

“There’s a—” But I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence. I didn’t need to. Because I heard what had happened: a horrible explosive crescendo mixed with a sound so terrible it could only be a human scream before the line went completely silent.

TWO HORRIFYING MINUTES LATER

I saw the smoke almost immediately, billowing from a few blocks away. Slade hit the gas, and the car practically flew through the few remaining streets. To me, it felt like we couldn’t possibly move any slower.

I don’t know how I did what I did next. I don’t know how I had the presence of mind to call 911, but I did. I wasn’t sure if they understood anything that I’d said—that there had been an explosion at the warehouse next to the old train station on Murphy Street, and there were people inside—but I shouted it out before the phone fell from my shaking fingers.

I was out of the car before Slade had swerved to a stop half a block from the flaming warehouse. Onlookers stood in the street, all staring at what I could barely stand to witness. The building that had once been the warehouse was now mostly a crumbled mass of burning rubble. Debris from the explosion littered the street, and tongues of flame lapped up at the sky from what remained of the building. Even from this far away, the black smoke and ash made me cough.

How could anyone have survived this?

“Dad!” I screamed, scanning every face in the small crowd of spectators. “Talbot!”

Where were they?

“Come on,” I cried to Brent and Slade. “Let’s go, we have to find them.” I started toward the warehouse, expecting the boys to follow, but when I turned back to say something, I realized that neither of them had moved from the car.

I pulled open Slade’s door. “I said come on, and that’s an order.”

“I can’t,” Slade said. He gripped the steering wheel like he was afraid I was going to try to physically pull him out of the car—and he was holding on for dear life. He stared at the flames, as if entranced by their deadly dance.

“What do you mean you can’t? I need your help.”

Slade just shook his head, not taking his eyes off the fire. I looked at Brent. His face was paler than morning frost. And then I realized what was going on. Something I’d read somewhere in all that research but I’d thought it was just another myth—werewolves were supposedly petrified by fire. Not a small flame like from Slade’s lighter, or the burn of a cigarette—but real, raging fire. Like the one that engulfed the warehouse.

“I know you’re freaked out. I’m scared, too, but we need to find them.”

Brent reached for the handle of his door, then he pulled his hand back. “I don’t think I can … I’m sorry…”

Slade didn’t say a word. I slammed his door. Ignoring the twinges of pain in my ankle, I bolted down the street toward the decimated warehouse, knowing I was on my own. I broke through the crowd—someone tried to hold me back from the building, but whoever it was wasn’t strong enough to stop me—and got as close to the fire as I could.

“Dad! Talbot!” I shouted toward the building. Of course, there was no response.

I stood absolutely still, the heat of the fire baking my face, and used all my concentration to let my senses guide me to where they might be. The ground underneath my feet shifted like it would during an earthquake. Talbot had said he was in the corridor between the Depot and the warehouse. That meant they had gone in through the secret underground club in the basement of the abandoned train station next door.

I ran down what remained of the alley between the two buildings and came to the thick metal door that led to the Depot. Normally, I’d need a key card to open it, but the explosion must have fried the sensors because the door was unlocked. I pulled it open. Heavy, black smoke mixed with concrete dust smacked me in the face. I choked and sputtered, then pulled off my jacket and used it to cover my nose and mouth as I ran through the doorway and navigated my way down through the blackness of the stairwell. I passed the entrance to the empty club, and opted for the second door that I had never walked through before—which I realized now must have been the secret entrance to Caleb’s lair all this time. It looked like it was normally guarded by a similar powerful electronic lock system as the one outside—but the door stood almost wide open now.

I hoped it had only been left open by Talbot, and not blown open by the force of the blast. Could anyone survive an explosion that strong?

I stood silently again, willing my pounding heart to quiet, until a faint sound reverberated in my sensitive ears. A low, airy noise accompanied by a high-pitched wheeze. Almost like a cough.

Someone was alive in the corridor!

I entered the pitch black of the hallway. Even with night vision, I could barely see anything in the thick smoke. I held my jacket over my mouth and nose with one hand, crouching low to stay out of the worst of the smoke, as I made my way through the dark of the corridor toward the source of the noise. I coughed into my jacket, grateful for the noise of it to help block out the howls of the wolf inside my head. It feared the fire even more than I did. It screamed at me, Turn back, turn back! I pushed forward instead.

It felt like it took an hour to traverse the corridor, but I knew it had been only a few minutes. I finally came to the end, only to find my way blocked by a flaming wooded beam that had fallen from the ceiling, cutting off the end of the corridor. Rolls of flames curled and lapped at what remained of the corridor above me. My lungs burned and ached, and my inner wolf grew more frantic. It’s not worth risking your own life. They’re all dead anyway. Turn back! Just when I thought the need for fresh air was going to force me to retreat, I saw something move behind the fiery barricade.