Chapter Thirteen
Rock Creek Park narrows into a skinny sliver whose southern edge borders the zoo. It’s dark by the time I cross it, my eyes still swollen.
Back in the bathroom at F’resh, I changed quietly and quickly, avoiding the other recruits as I left. Max and Rick were somewhere in the kitchen, their voices muffled.
Fired.
Disgust slithers through me at the word.
I couldn’t keep it together enough to last a single day at F’resh.
Rick’s hyper-critical tin can procedure, the ugly uniform, the Sarahs arguing over which was sexier, a neck or forearms – none of that had fazed me.
But actually seeing Max face to face triggered something inside me, an anger at Austin Taylor that was only too ready to be unleashed on his son.
It’s dark enough now that Rock Creek Park is technically closed, so I have to keep my phone flashlight obscured by my jacket as I pass through the trees, the word failure, failure, failure beating against the inside of my skull like a drum.
Maybe the plan isn’t totally ruined, though.
Max might’ve been the clearest path to his dad, but he’s not the only one.
Austin Taylor’s house is almost certainly run by an army of servants, because God forbid he should have to reduce himself to something so plebeian as cleaning his own shower.
I could befriend one of them, possibly even get a job with them, and learn more about Austin that way.
Nobody knows someone in quite the way a housekeeper knows their boss.
There’s a tree whose heart-shaped knothole is so distinct, it’s become my marker for where to turn off the trail and into the trees towards Tyler’s cave.
My fingertips wisp across its craggy bark as I pass.
A twig snaps behind me and I freeze, one foot still lifted in a step.
I lower it and turn around slowly, but darkness swallows the park beyond a twenty-foot radius. Everything is still now. Quiet.
It must have been deer, or a squirrel. They’re always scrabbling around the park floor. I pull in a deep breath and shake out my shoulders.
Up and over the familiar hill and then it’s there: Tyler’s cave.
I hold against my chest the box of leftover pizza the guy at the zoo gave me for free because, in his words, they ‘were gonna throw it out anyway, so it’s whatever’.
His kindness may have had something to do with the fact that I was still clearly crying, but I was too embarrassed to even acknowledge it.
Tyler is lying on his back, sprawled across his new PAW Patrol sleeping bag.
It’s way too small for his huge, fluffy body, and it feels kind of sacrilegious – to five-year-olds, at least – to have a mutant werewolf stretched out over a German Shepherd in a police uniform, but it was on sale.
The stuffed bear is flattened underneath Tyler’s shaggy head; it lets out a long, high-pitched squeak as he shifts to look at me standing in the mouth of the cave.
‘You’re welcome, for all this,’ I say, gesturing around the cave with the pizza box. ‘I’ve had the worst day, so if you could try not to demolish your new sleeping bag in front of me tonight, that would be cool.’
Tyler scrambles to his paws and pads over, but hesitates at the sound of leaves shuffling behind me.
I spin around again, but it’s almost darker than before, the expanse over the side of the hill a deep black.
I turn back to Tyler. Like a cat puffing up its fur at the sight of another animal, his front legs rise ever so slightly.
‘Tyler, relax,’ I say calmly. ‘It’s just a squirrel or something. Here.’ I shake the box of pizza. ‘Take this.’
But Tyler’s mouth twitches, the sharp tips of his canines visible beneath the seam of his black lips. Leaves move behind me again, except this time it’s clear the sound isn’t coming from small, scrabbling paws. The movement is too solid. They’re footsteps.
I slowly turn around again. A shadowy figure stands at the top of the hill. It’s shaped like a person, but it’s solid black. My breath rasps in my throat as the shadow moves closer, its heavy feet scraping along the dirt.
‘Tyler—’ I whisper.
A noise rumbles from Tyler’s throat, wet with saliva. He’s growling.
The shadow is still moving, only twenty or so feet away now. My fingers twitch at my side, eyes blinking to make out the figure. As it gets closer, details emerge: dark eyes, the glint of a silver zipper just below the head, a single curl crossing a pale forehead.
‘Max?’
He steps close enough so I can finally make out the whole of him: the black hoodie zipped all the way up to his neck, hands thrust in the front pockets and hood pulled over his head. But he’s not looking at me. His eyes, wide with fear, are fixed on the beast behind me.
‘What. The hell. Is that?’ he says.
I swivel back to face Tyler, who’s crouched down on his haunches. There’s no mistaking him for a dog this time; with his entire top row of teeth visible, claws scratching tensely against the cave floor and the muscles in his shoulders rigid, Tyler looks every inch the monster I know he is.
‘Shit,’ I hiss. Tyler has never been dangerous before, and even now I can’t help but feel like he’s just spooked, but still – I have to get Max out of here. ‘When I give you the signal—’ eyes never leaving Tyler, I tilt my face towards my left shoulder, trying to get Max’s attention – ‘run.’
This command seems to pull Max out of some trance. He jolts suddenly.
‘What signal?’ he near-shouts, panicked.
The movement startles Tyler, who rises so quickly the lines of his long limbs blur. Without thinking, I Frisbee the box of pizza at him and shout, ‘This!’
The box hits Tyler square in the forehead, knocking him off balance. He tips backwards with a surprised howl. Then, I spin around, grab Max’s arm, and run.