He growled, patience evaporating. I smacked the bottom of his muzzle with mine, directing his nose. His eyes widened as he caught Rose’s scent.

I bumped his side, snorting a “See, I was right.” He swatted me with his tail, then, as I turned on him, tore off after Rose’s scent, leaving me to catch up.

We slowed as we entered a service road. From up ahead came the clicking of nails on pavement. I sniffed, then let out a sharp yip. Clay circled me, tail swishing, eager to be off now that we might have a target.

I was about to yip again when Antonio slipped from the shadows ahead of us, with Nick at his heels. I made a show of sniffing the air. He dipped his muzzle in a nod, and signaled left. I followed him. Within twenty feet we hit Rose’s trail, which they’d already been following.

I snuffled along it for a bit, back and forth, then looked up at Clay. He grumbled deep in his chest, eyes doubtful. This trail was stronger than the bowler-hatted zombie’s, but didn’t seem any more recent.

When I motioned I wanted to follow it, though, he grunted his agreement. We were about to set out when Antonio stepped in front of me. I backed up, presuming he wanted to lead. Pack hierarchy can be a tricky thing. Technically, as Jeremy’s “spokesperson,” I outrank Antonio. Yet he was my senior-and the stronger wolf-so the distinction was questionable. In a hunt, Clay and I followed Antonio’s lead.

When I fell back, though, he snorted, and gestured for me to lead, but cautiously. He must have seen or smelled something up ahead earlier-probably people. So we proceeded in a single file down the empty service road, clinging to the shadows in case someone appeared.

As we reached the end, my pulse quickened. Rose was here. I could smell her in the air. Just around that corner-

A gentle nip at my hind leg. Antonio. I stopped and took a deep breath. Other scents fluttered past, woven with Rose’s stench. Other people. Close by.

I hunkered down, crept to the corner and peered around it. It opened into an alcove, maybe the size of a bedroom. And that’s what it was being used as-a bedroom. Four kids-none older than twenty-slept on the bare pavement.

One twitched in sleep, and I jumped. I steadied myself, then took a careful look around. In the back corner lay a dark pile. That seemed to be where Rose’s smell was coming from…on the far side of the four sleeping teens.

I backed up so Clay and Antonio could take a look. Then I waited for Antonio to make the decision. After a quick look, though, he walked behind me, sat and started nipping at a burr in his coat.

I glanced at Clay. He peeked around the corner, then pulled back and gave a soft “hmmph”-your choice.

Again, I checked with Antonio, but he was studiously working at that burr, leaving the decision to me.

I set Clay and Nick on watch duty, then crept into the alcove, rolling on my foot pads so my nails wouldn’t click.

I picked my way through the sleeping bodies. My focus stayed on my goal, relying on Clay and Nick to warn me if the kids woke. I was passing the final sleeper when Clay grunted. I stopped, one paw still in the air. The boy beside me shifted. He flung out his arm, knocking against my hind leg. My heart thudded as his fingers brushed my fur. Then his hand fell to the pavement, and the deep rhythmic breathing of sleep resumed.

I eased my back legs over his outstretched arm and crossed the final few feet to the pile in the corner. Rose’s stink was evident, but her heavy clothes must have stifled the worst of it or those kids would never be sleeping so close.

The coat Rose had been wearing was pulled up over her.

I maneuvered as close as I could, leaned in to take the coat’s edge between my teeth, then thought better of it. I didn’t want my lips anywhere near Rose. So I stepped on the hem, catching the edge under my nails, and gingerly peeled it back.

Behind me, one of the kids muttered and I froze, still stretched over Rose, but Clay didn’t sound a warning, so I waited until all went quiet, and tugged the coat off the rest of the way. As I did, I realized the stench came from the garment. The underside was dotted with sloughed skin and bits of rotted flesh. I looked over to discover that I’d uncovered a pile of crushed cardboard boxes. I stifled a snarl of frustration and headed back to the others.

We followed Rose and the bowler-hatted zombie’s trails for a while, but soon I had to admit that Clay was right. They were old tracks-probably from earlier in the day or even the night before. So we headed back to the hotel and packed. I suggested the hotel beside Trinity Church, where we’d been that afternoon, and Jeremy agreed.

Time-Out

CLAY MADE SURE I SLEPT IN THE NEXT DAY BY KEEPING THE curtains drawn and the room cool and quiet. He even unplugged the bedside clock, so when I groggily awoke and glanced over to see what time it was, there was no glowing LED display chastising me.

When I did wake, probably midmorning, I found a food court breakfast buffet within arm’s reach. Muffins, croissants, bagels, fruit and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Enough variety to guarantee I’d find something tempting.

Even as we ate in bed, Clay was quiet, stretched out beside me, reading and drinking orange juice as I munched my banana-nut muffin. When my stomach was full, there was nothing to stop me from lying back down and drifting off, so that’s what I did.

When I awoke again, Clay was still reading. I reached out and touched his arm below his bandage. I expected the bare skin to be cool from the air-conditioning. Instead it was warm, almost hot.

“Morning, darling.”

He rolled onto his side and let his book slide to the floor. I moved my fingers to his chest…which was cool.

“Your arm’s hot. Where she scratched you. Jeremy should-”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll have him check it when he gets back.” He flexed his arm and made a face. “Who knows what crud that thing had under her nails?”

“You think it’s infected?”

“Maybe a bit.” He brushed a strand of hair from my face and frowned. “I’ll have him check you too. You still look tired.”

“I’ve had enough sleep.” I stretched and shuddered, trying to throw off the numbness. “Too much sleep. What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

“In the afternoon?” I sat up. “Where is everyone?”

“Out looking for Shanahan. Nick just called.”

“I didn’t hear-”

He lifted my cell phone from the bed. “Vibrate. Nick set it up before he left. They’re stopping back before the meeting with Hull.”

I jumped up. “That’s right. I have to get ready.”

“We’re not going.”

“Don’t start this again.”

He pushed himself out of bed, snarling a yawn. “It’s not me. Jeremy’s orders. It’s a daytime meeting in a public place, so he’s taking Antonio and Nick. We’re supposed to stay here and rest up for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

He shrugged. “No idea, but I’m sure Jeremy will think of something.”

When Jeremy got back, he checked me over and declared I needed more rest. Clay’s arm was the bigger concern. It was showing signs of infection, despite Jeremy’s thorough cleaning the day before. Being scratched by a rotting corpse isn’t exactly sanitary.

Once he cleaned the wound, dosed Clay with antibiotics and rebandaged him, Jeremy had to leave for his meeting with Hull.

“Is there anything we can do here?” I asked as he put away his medical supplies. “Phone calls to make? New questions to research?”