Page 3 of Haunted By the Shadow of Death

“I’ll be fine.” I’d sleep hanging on to the back of the bike if that was what it took. No way would I be the weak human who slowed everyone down. They’d all been nice to me, but Widow Herbert was right—there was no room for weakness right now, and maybe never.

“If you’re ready, let’s go.” He held out his hand, waiting for me.

I hadn’t felt ready for anything in years. I hadn’t been ready for my mother to die. I hadn’t been ready to move back to New York, for the world to collapse, or to move here. But life didn’t care if you were ready. It threw out what it wanted, and you rode the waves the best you could. Some mastered the waves and some drowned, and it was up to me which one of those groups I’d fall into.

“Yep. Let’s head out.”

Chapter Two

We didn’t avoid bridges, main highways, or any of the places that would be obvious traps. With twenty-one shifters in our party, no one seemed overly concerned about getting hijacked by a small, random crew of humans, or at least that’s what I was told.

Me? I wasn’t so comfortable with it, but I couldn’t take a bullet as well as they did. More worrisome, I didn’t know how well Charlie could. Every time we came to a bridge that looked like it had a pile-up of cars that seemed to narrow down to a single opening, my nerves felt like they were about to undo me.

More than once I saw a handful of humans ducking for cover as we came through, as if they somehow knew they didn’t want a piece of us. That we were more trouble than we were worth. Thinking back to the first time I’d met the guys in NY, I guess I could understand. Even when threats weren’t obvious to our regular senses, sometimes your gut instincts would kick in and save your ass.

Not to mention there wasn’t a weak-looking person in the group. Well, except maybe for me. I was smaller than even Evangeline, but I was also deadlier. That was another weird thing to wrap my head around. I wasn’t the prey any longer. I was the predator.

Whatever the case, no one and nothing had bothered us thus far except for the roads. Having to slow down at different points to navigate around crashes that spanned the entirety of the road took some time. The motorcycles that curved in and out of traffic easily didn’t always appreciate the mud.

Kicks raised his hand, and the caravan of ATVs and motorcycles pulled over to the side of the highway at an abandoned gas station. I was thrilled to get off and stretch my legs for a second as I looked about the place. It looked like it had been run down before the end of the world. A plaque read “Jake’s Auto,” but there were no other hints of a location. The last landmark had been when we’d entered Kentucky about an hour ago.

We might’ve been out of the state, but it didn’t feel like far enough. I wasn’t sure any distance would be after Groza had tracked me down, toting gallons of gas with plans to burn me alive.

I scanned the area, locating Charlie. He was walking toward the trees with Buddie.

“Don’t go far,” I yelled after him.

He bobbed his head in acknowledgment as he kept walking.

Buddie looked over his shoulder, clearly insulted by what I thought of his chaperoning abilities. He hadn’t almost been burned alive. I was allowed to be overprotective for a while. I might decide to drag it out for a year. It wasn’t quite clear how long it would last. Maybe forever.

The wind shifted, carrying with it a potent smell of the dead. It was scary how I was becoming so used to seeing corpses.

I scanned the area, even though I was surrounded by shifters with senses of sight and smell that were much superior.

“They’re empty,” Crackers, one of Kicks’ go-to guys, yelled out from where he stood beside the pump. His mohawk looked a little worse for wear after all these hours.

“There’s some in this,” Kicks said, standing beside an ancient, gas-guzzling pickup. “Who’s the lowest? We’ll split this between them and then fill as we go.”

I strolled closer to the pickup as Evangeline rolled up her bike, a tube ready in her hand. I hadn’t had much time to talk to her since we’d left, but out of Kicks’ pack, she’d immediately become one of my favorite people. Plus she could cook her ass off.

“Want some help with that?” Rastin asked, walking closer. “I’d be happy to help you fill your tank.”

I loved Rastin like a brother and owed him greatly for backing me up against Groza. I also accepted him for what he was: a pig.

Evangeline lifted a brow. “Thank you, but I can fill my own tank.” She made quick work of topping off and was quick to leave. Evangeline was a toughie, in spite of the impression her pink hair might give some.

Rastin’s eyes were still on her back. “What’s her story? Is she gay or something?”

I didn’t try to hide my laughter. “Why? Because that’s the only reason she wouldn’t be into you?”

“Why else? I’m a virile, good-looking shifter.” He ran his fingers through his hair, as if the wind had ruined his perfect locks and that was the problem.

The only thing that took away from his looks was his confidence in them. Still, he had a loyal streak that ran deep. That feature tended to get hidden by the overwhelming cockiness.

Kicks was waving people over to another car that had been pulled alongside the building.

I leaned against the pickup, near Rastin. “You would think with so many dead people, gas wouldn’t be such a problem.”

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