Free Pack of Strays (The Fangborn Series Book 2) by Dana Cameron Page B

I could tell, she had a hunch for knowing how to avoid getting found by everyone who was looking for her. She seemed to be able to navigate new places with ridiculous ease—the same as me.
    The woman said, “What are you doing here?”
    “I … think I’m looking for Victoria Brooks.”
    “I’m Vee.” Her eyes widened. “But you can’t be here . You can’t just show up like this.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “There’s been all kinds of Family buzz—”
    “Wait—if you know what’s going on with the Family, what are you doing here?” How could she know about me? I knew from the cards that Buell believed she was a stray.
    “I work here.” She looked down at the rack of bags. “It was my turn to get lunch. Look, you want to talk, I’ll meet you after work. I moved to this office three weeks ago, and I want to make sure I don’t screw up in the first month. I’ve got a five-minute bio-break, and then I’m in back-to-back meetings until five thirty.”
    I stared at her. “You can’t just work! I mean, if you know what’s going on, why aren’t you—?”
    “I work because I like to eat. If you mean, why aren’t I involved with”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“the Family and their business … I don’t do that anymore.”
    That certainly explained all the blanks on her card. “Why not? I thought … aren’t you … aren’t you a stray?”
    She made a face like she smelled something spoiled. “No, nothing like that. I know what I am, I know what they are. I walked away.” She shifted the box in her hand to get her key card. “You want to talk more, come back after work. Don’t bring any Cousins. Don’t bring any Normals, for that matter. My team’s noodles are getting cold.”
    She was through security before I could say another word.
    Well, that could have gone better. But it could have gone worse. At least I’d stumbled across her with time to spare, and now we had an appointment.
    I got some lunch off a truck—I saw one that Victoria had probably come from, so I got a pile of garlic noodles. I walked west and south, enjoying the fine autumn day and the fact that I seemed to be making progress.
    A strange scent wafted over me. I felt the Call to Change. I couldn’t Change, not there, but as I began to run, picking up speed with the need to find what was driving me. It got stronger , and fouler, as I ran down Seventh Avenue and turned down 37th Street.
    There were two cop cars near one side of a building covered in scaffolding. No lights, no noise; the officers were drinking coffee, and the pedestrians walked by the place with nary a glance. My shoulder blades itched, and I saw three blacked-out SUVs nearby; they looked an awful lot like the Order vehicles I’d seen when I’d escaped from Buell.
    I decided to see if there wasn’t another way in.
    I was smart. I texted Adam and gave him my location, just like I promised. Told him I’d need backup.
    There was a maintenance employees’ access on the side; the door was ajar—to let the construction workers in, I assumed. I edged my way into a darkened hallway, a pile of cigarette butts just inside the door.
    I stopped cold.
    There was no one there, no one to see me. It was the perfect situation for a Fangborn, no reason I couldn’t continue.
    Except my nose was wrong.
    No, not my nose. I was absolutely certain I was on the track of evil, but … the evil wasn’t right.
    I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion away. I had to go, but …
    No “but.” I had to go. I was on guard, however. Something eerie was in the air, too much like the same brand of wrong I smelled near that child molester staked out at Princeville Township.
    The SUVs outside … If Buell was here, I’d kill him.
    I stashed my shoes in my backpack and Changed up, figuring I needed every sense I could get, on deck.
    As I progressed into the building, smoke was everywhere. I tried to keep low, but even werewolf eyes burned