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that he'd unlock the door. I backed down the bars, trying to keep an even distance between me and the
werewolf. Edward would get the door open, but would it be in time? That was the $64,000 question.
A sound at the entrance caused me to glance back. Carmichael stepped into the cavern. He had the
9mm in his hand. He smiled. It was the happiest I'd seen him.
Edward ignored him, working at the lock as if an armed man hadn't stepped into the room.
Carmichael raised the gun and pointed it at Edward. "Get away from the lock, now." He cocked the
hammer back, not necessary, but always dramatic. "We don't need you alive. Stop ... working ... on ...
the ... lock." He stepped closer with each word.
Edward looked up at him. His face was still blank, as if his concentration were still in his hands, not quite
focused on the gun being pointed at him.
"Throw the tools away from you. Right now."
Edward stared at him. His expression never changed but he tossed the two small tools away.
"Take the complete kit out of your pocket and toss it out of the cage. Don't even try to say you don't
have one. If you've got those two pieces, you've got the rest."
I wondered what Carmichael did in the real world. Something not nice. Something where he knew what
tools would be in a professional lock-picking kit.
"I won't warn you again," Carmichael said. "Throw it out or I pull the trigger. I am tired of screwing with
this mess."
Edward threw out the slim leather pouch. It made a small slapping sound on the rock. Carmichael made
no move to pick up the lock picks. They were out of our reach. That was what counted. He walked
backwards, keeping us all in sight. He directed some of his attention to Jason and me. Oh, joy.
"Our little werewolf's awake. I was hoping he would be."
A low, ragged growl crawled up Jason's throat.
Carmichael gave a delighted bark of laughter. "I wanted to see him change. Good thing I checked back
in."
"I'm thrilled that you're here," I said.
He came to stand just out of reach of our cage bars. He was staring at Jason. "I've never seen one of
them change."
"Let me out and we'll watch him together."
"Now, why would I do that? I paid to see the whole show."
His eyes were sparkling with anticipation. Bright and shiny as a kid on Christmas morning. Shit.
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A growl brought my attention completely back to Jason. He was crouched on the rock floor, hands and
legs bunched under him. Watching that growl trickle from between his human lips raised the hair on the
back of my neck.
He wasn't looking at me. "I think he's growling at you, Carmichael."
"But I'm not in the cage," he said. He had a point.
"Jason, don't get angry at him," Richard said. "Anger will feed the beast. You can't afford to get angry."
Richard's voice was amazingly calm, even soothing. He was trying to talk Jason down, or out, or in, or
whatever word you used for keeping a werewolf from shifting.
"No," Carmichael said, "get angry, wolf. I'm going to cut your head off and mount it on my wall."
"He'll revert back to human form after he's dead," I said.
"I know," Carmichael said.
Jesus. "Police find you with a human head in your possession, they may get a little suspicious."
"I've got a lot of trophies that I wouldn't want the police to find," he said.
"What do you do in the real world?"
"This is as real as it gets."
I shook my head. It was hard to argue with him, but I wanted to.
Jason crawled towards the bars, in a sort of monkey crouch. It wasn't as graceful but it had an energy to
it, as if he were about to launch himself into the air. As if when he jumped he could fly.
"Calm, Jason, easy," Richard said.
"Come on, boy, try it. Rush the bars and I'll pull the trigger."
I watched him bunch every muscle and launch himself at the bars. He clung to the bars, hands clawing
between them. Arms stretched as far as they would go. He wedged a shoulder between the bars as if
he'd slip through. For one moment Carmichael looked uncertain, then he laughed.
"Shoot me," Jason said. His voice was more growl than words. "Shoot me."
"I don't think so," Carmichael said.
Jason gripped the bars with his hands and slid down to his knees, forehead pressed to the bars. His
breathing was fast, panting, as if he'd run a mile in a minute flat. If he'd been human he'd have
hyperventilated and passed out. His head turned slowly towards me, painfully slow, as if he didn't want to
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