of the car, but instead, his features smoothed over, his eyes no longer seeming to see his direct surroundings, his full bottom lip falling slack.
He’s making contact with his wolf guide, she realized. Sending the animal to relate back what lay ahead. She stared at him, trying to imagine what was going on in his head. How amazing to be able to see the world through another set of eyes. Would she ever get used to the things he was able to do?
He came back around, his eyes refocusing. The hard expression had returned to his face.
“We need to get out of here.” He twisted around, slung his arm over the back of her seat, and shifted the car into reverse. But as he began to back up, another vehicle pulled in behind them, blocking them in. “Shit.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Trouble is heading our way.”
Baffled, she asked, “What do you mean? Has there been an accident?”
His nostrils flared. “Not yet, there hasn’t.”
Through the open driver’s window, Autumn became aware of voices, muffled shouting that rose in a crescent, becoming clearer. A chanting. She sat up straighter in her seat and the cause of the noise came into view. A crowd of people walked down the middle of the road, blocking the traffic. They held placards on sticks, thrusting them into the air as they shouted.
Autumn frowned. A protest of some kind. She’d not heard of anything going on in the city today. The crowd was still too far away for her to read the placards.
She glanced at Blake’s face. His jaw was locked tight, his normally generous mouth thinned. A line of worry had appeared between his brows. Why is a simple protest bothering him so much? It didn’t look as if things were going to get violent.
But then the people got close enough for her to be able to read what had been written on the signs.
Shifters are Freaks!
Kill the Mutants!
Humanity is Sacred!
Men, not Monsters!
“Oh, my, God,” she breathed, and instinctively reached across to twine her fingers with Blake’s, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance that was as much for herself as him.
Someone yelled out from the street, “You’re protesting against a fairy story.” A ripple of laughter chased the comment, but another yell followed. “Bullshit! They’re real. I saw them for myself.”
Autumn’s eyes sought out the new shouter. She thought she recognized the young man as having been from the crowd that had gathered outside of the government building when she’d raced out with Blake on the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance.
Suddenly, people began to cry out in alarm, backing away and pushing past each other. Autumn turned her head to try to spot the cause.
A huge lioness came at a sprint from around the corner, muscles rippling beneath amber fur. Her upper lip curled in a snarl to reveal long, white canines. Bystanders screamed and turned, shoving to get away, while others stood staring at the spectacle before them. She lifted her massive paws, standing on two legs briefly to swipe at one of the signs that read ‘Death to Mutants’. She tore the wood from the man’s grip and slammed it to the ground. Lowering her face, she ripped the sign to pieces with her lethally sharp teeth, as though it were made from no more than tissue paper. The wind caught the pieces and blew them down the street like confetti.
One of the protesters, a man, flipped his placard over and lifted the wooden stick above his head. He brought it down brutally across the animal’s back. The lioness buckled in the middle at the impact, but quickly recovered and sprang back around, snarling.
People began to look up at the sky and Autumn did the same, peering up through the windshield.
A bird, a giant white snowy owl, blocked out the sky. The bird let out a screech and dived for the man with the stick, its sharp talons outstretched. It hit the man with a flurry of beating wings, screeches filling the air.
Chaos erupted all around them. People jumped back
He’s making contact with his wolf guide, she realized. Sending the animal to relate back what lay ahead. She stared at him, trying to imagine what was going on in his head. How amazing to be able to see the world through another set of eyes. Would she ever get used to the things he was able to do?
He came back around, his eyes refocusing. The hard expression had returned to his face.
“We need to get out of here.” He twisted around, slung his arm over the back of her seat, and shifted the car into reverse. But as he began to back up, another vehicle pulled in behind them, blocking them in. “Shit.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Trouble is heading our way.”
Baffled, she asked, “What do you mean? Has there been an accident?”
His nostrils flared. “Not yet, there hasn’t.”
Through the open driver’s window, Autumn became aware of voices, muffled shouting that rose in a crescent, becoming clearer. A chanting. She sat up straighter in her seat and the cause of the noise came into view. A crowd of people walked down the middle of the road, blocking the traffic. They held placards on sticks, thrusting them into the air as they shouted.
Autumn frowned. A protest of some kind. She’d not heard of anything going on in the city today. The crowd was still too far away for her to read the placards.
She glanced at Blake’s face. His jaw was locked tight, his normally generous mouth thinned. A line of worry had appeared between his brows. Why is a simple protest bothering him so much? It didn’t look as if things were going to get violent.
But then the people got close enough for her to be able to read what had been written on the signs.
Shifters are Freaks!
Kill the Mutants!
Humanity is Sacred!
Men, not Monsters!
“Oh, my, God,” she breathed, and instinctively reached across to twine her fingers with Blake’s, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance that was as much for herself as him.
Someone yelled out from the street, “You’re protesting against a fairy story.” A ripple of laughter chased the comment, but another yell followed. “Bullshit! They’re real. I saw them for myself.”
Autumn’s eyes sought out the new shouter. She thought she recognized the young man as having been from the crowd that had gathered outside of the government building when she’d raced out with Blake on the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance.
Suddenly, people began to cry out in alarm, backing away and pushing past each other. Autumn turned her head to try to spot the cause.
A huge lioness came at a sprint from around the corner, muscles rippling beneath amber fur. Her upper lip curled in a snarl to reveal long, white canines. Bystanders screamed and turned, shoving to get away, while others stood staring at the spectacle before them. She lifted her massive paws, standing on two legs briefly to swipe at one of the signs that read ‘Death to Mutants’. She tore the wood from the man’s grip and slammed it to the ground. Lowering her face, she ripped the sign to pieces with her lethally sharp teeth, as though it were made from no more than tissue paper. The wind caught the pieces and blew them down the street like confetti.
One of the protesters, a man, flipped his placard over and lifted the wooden stick above his head. He brought it down brutally across the animal’s back. The lioness buckled in the middle at the impact, but quickly recovered and sprang back around, snarling.
People began to look up at the sky and Autumn did the same, peering up through the windshield.
A bird, a giant white snowy owl, blocked out the sky. The bird let out a screech and dived for the man with the stick, its sharp talons outstretched. It hit the man with a flurry of beating wings, screeches filling the air.
Chaos erupted all around them. People jumped back
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