Free Seven Kinds of Hell by Dana Cameron Page A

would have gone to BU.
    “I was just checking to see if there was some ID in it,” the guy said, holding his hands up.
    “Yeah, sorry. Things got weird with some guys, and I ditched my shoes in case I had to fight—er, run,” I said. “Which I did. Thanks. I guess you scared them off.”
    “I’ll call the police,” she said, reaching into her bag.
    “We could,” I said slowly, “but what would I tell them? Some guys hassled me, I dropped my bag and ran off, then they were gone? I doubt the cops would be able to do anything; I barely sawthem.” I slipped into my shoes, snagged my bag. “Thanks, though. I’m really glad you showed up when you did.”
    “No problem,” the guy said. “I’m Gerry Steuben, by the way. This is my sister, Claudia Steuben.”
    “Zoe.” We shook hands, and I tried not to look nervous. In my experience, siblings don’t hang out together, wandering around abandoned construction sites, unless either they’re actually not siblings but swingers looking for playmates. Or maybe Jehovah’s Witnesses.
    “I’d feel better, though,” Claudia said, giving her brother a glance, “if you let us walk with you back to civilization.”
    “OK. My friend…is kind of winded. He’s over—” I nodded my head in the right direction, and we set out. I brushed a few coarse hairs from my skirt. “So what were you all doing down here?”
    “Real estate,” she said promptly. “Friend of ours is looking to buy. We said we’d check out the state of things. You?”
    She was lying. I knew it instantly. “I got lost.”
    “Zoe, I really think we should—”
    “Claud, she already said she didn’t want us to call the police.” Gerry stepped all over whatever she was going to say and gave her a pointed look. “Let’s respect that, shall we?”
    Shall we?
OMG, the guy really was some kind of banker or real estate agent. I would have been happier with swingers
or
Witnesses. My unlove of authority and status was showing.
    We found Sean, who seemed clearer headed now, but still not too with it. He was smiling beatifically, and if I hadn’t been worried about him being concussed, I would have assumed he was high. Of course, with Sean’s good sense, he might well have sparked up while I was gone. I sniffed. No sign of smoke.
    “And who are these, then?” Sean clapped his hands together and rubbed them expectantly. “I’m about ready for breakfast, Zoe. How about you?”
    I stared at him. No questions about the attack, nothing about me turning into the Girl Who Bays at the Moon. Not a damned thing but that dopey smile and too-innocent eyes.
    Which was reason enough to be suspicious, but I can usually read Sean pretty well—remember, no poker face? At the moment, there was nothing going on. No one at home.
    I made some introductions, and was making excuses about getting Sean home when Claudia said, “Look, I’m a doctor. Let me have a quick look at him. That way, you can decide whether to stop at the emergency room.”
    I gave her a look. A doctor? Then what about the real estate?
    “Look at me, check me out, examine me, my darling!” Sean did a passable two-step. He grabbed Claudia and whirled her around. I was surprised; she managed to stay upright, feet unscathed, even laughing before she gently disengaged herself from the maniac.
    “All right, simmer down. Follow my finger.” She held up an index finger, moved it left, right, up, down. “You know the date, right?”
    “Wednesday. June eighth,” he said. “Or maybe the ninth.”
    “That’s as close as he ever gets,” I said. I really wanted to ditch these two, but Gerry stepped in.
    “I wouldn’t mind an iced coffee or something,” he said. “It’s warm out here.”
    Claudia said, “C’mon.”
    I felt something—instinct?—nudging me. I resigned myself to another half hour with these guys. I hated the idea; Sean might snap out of it and start asking odd, unpleasant questions about me turning into a wolf at any