A Wolf After My Own Heart by MaryJanice Davidson (good books for high schoolers .TXT) 📕

punish some of them. Direct punishment would come after we had control.”

“Indirect.” That rang a dim bell, and he thought of Lila, who had diligently researched sun bears and then asked the crucial question about Sally: Maybe someone wanted her because she’s an exotic catch?

“Some of the cubs you targeted…they were the offspring of SAS members who let you down?” Saliva spurted into Oz’s mouth as that awful, gut-clenching feeling when you know you’re going to throw up washed over him. “Their cubs? Who never did anything to hurt you?”

“Everything was going fine and better than fine,” Mock continued, because his idea of “fine” was twisted. “And then those happy assholes at IPA blundered around and accidentally shut off the money faucet. And like that.” Mock attempted a finger snap, which he couldn’t pull off. “We had no funds and no options and more of us were dead. But SAS didn’t want to change the time line, the symmetry of doing it on the tenth anniversary was too perfect.”

“So the Smalls family was targeted,” Annette realized. “Sally for sale and her parents for punishment as species traitors.”

“You weren’t there,” Mock snapped. “Are you telling this or are we?”

Oz couldn’t believe they hadn’t caught on yet, were still chatting like everything was going according to plan but was grateful regardless. “I like when Annette tells it.”

“They moved,” Annette said, rubbing her forehead. “The Smalls family. They packed up and moved halfway across the country, and you thought they’d gotten wind of your newest, nastiest plan. And maybe they did—Sue told Magnus she’d heard some upsetting rumors. She was going to get to the bottom of it, wasn’t she? She and Sam. I’m sure he stayed in touch with his bosses—I never found out who they were. No one did. So you guys panicked. I’ll bet you had no idea she had a terminal illness.”

“The feeling when you cheer for cancer,” Gulo sneered. “We know now, but you’re right…not then. But we needed the money we’d get for Sally, so it was perfect.”

Perfect? Any number of things could go wrong—and did. And if they’d succeeded in getting their hands on Sally? She was still only one cub. They would need millions (wars were expensive), while the anniversary got closer and closer.

“Oh my God with all the bullshit,” Oz groaned. “It was about punishment, pure and simple. SAS is going with today’s date and you were always going to. The Smalls family—that was for fun. You didn’t have the money, you don’t have the money, and you went after them anyway. That way, you could tell yourselves that regardless of how today went, you showed your enemies you’re not to be fucked with. Can you hear how absolutely shortsighted and stupid you are? Gulo, how the fuck did you get through medical school?”

Magnus was staring at the ceiling as if hoping for a roof collapse to put everyone out of their misery. “That should be SAS’s motto: shortsighted and stupid.”

“Oh, spare us the righteous crap, Berne. Nobody stuck a gun in your back and made you join. You were on board with us until you saw it was gonna be messy.”

“Messy.” Magnus seemed to taste the word, savor it. “Is that what you call it?”

“Can you say, right now, that if SAS could pull off a bloodless coup and we could be running the planet without any casualties, you wouldn’t join?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I can’t say that.”

“See?” Gulo looked triumphant. “You’re not so high and mighty.”

“I never said otherwise. Not once.”

“But that’s the start of the slope. ‘No casualties, sure, sign me up.’ Then it’s ‘Well, a couple of people got hurt.’ ‘Okay, sign me up anyway.’ Then it’s a dozen. Then a hundred. So when is it unacceptable, Moral Majority? What’s the magic number?”

Berne, now staring out the window showing the street, didn’t bother answering. (Assuming there really was an actual number and not a rhetorical.) “Which one of you called for an ambulance? I mean, you’ll all need one—you in particular, Gulo—but I didn’t see any of you make a phone call.”

“Now you’re fucked,” Mock said smugly. “Took ’em long enough.”

“What are you grinning about? Those aren’t your reinforcements,” Oz said. “They’re ours.”

And then the world that was the Reflections Dance Academy caved in.

Chapter 54

Lila had seen cars crashing into storefronts on TV and assumed that it wasn’t so easy in real life. There were bricks and cement and steel and aggregate and concrete blocks to get through. She figured in real life, a car would destroy itself when crashing into a storefront, or the Reflections Dance Academy.

Wrong.

Also, she wasn’t driving a car.

Lila had followed the directions all the way to Shakopee, stopping as instructed a mile inside the city limits. She pulled over her nonbulance and waited for something weird.

She wasn’t disappointed. Not two minutes later, a hawk—eagle?—some kind of bird of prey swooped down and alighted on the mailbox she’d parked beside. The street was quiet, probably because school hadn’t let out yet. The large, fierce-looking bird of prey looked especially incongruous with a suburban neighborhood as a backdrop. She could see a McDonald’s from her parking spot.

Curious, but not too strange, I guess. Maybe it nests around here. The river’s close, so are the bluffs. Lots of prey.

And then it stared at her. Not a glance, a stare. An intense, fixed glare.

Okay, that’s unsettling.

She took a couple of steps forward and the bird didn’t move. It had a dark body, mostly reddish-brown, with an amazing wingspan. The feathers were mostly black, with white tips at the wings. It looked sleek and dangerous, and Lila had seen those crystal blue eyes before.

“Oh, hey. I know you.”

The raptor immediately took flight, but only long enough to cross the distance between them and flutter onto her shoulder. She—Lila was certain the bird was female—wasn’t heavy at all, which was surprising; the thing was almost two feet tall, and the wingspan was amazing. Guess it’s true; birds are mostly feathers