revenants under the ice were still making their wild keening noises, which echoed around the deserted plain.
By the time the moon shone again, Saffi Besson had vanished. It was as though she had never been there at all.
CHAPTER 9
A N E NGLISH W EREWOLF IN P ARIS
Hunger howled deep inside their bellies. No matter how much food they would eat later, it would never be the same as eating meat that was still alive. Just before Crescent lost the power of human speech, she delivered her final instructions to the Howlers.
âDonât do anything to draw attention to yourselves,â she growled. âRepeat after me: Donât. Do. Anything. Stupid.â
â
GgrrrdondoaneeeyooooohhOOOOOOOOHAAHWOOOOOOooo
!â howled Otis. It was too late for the others. They were struggling with the early stages of the shift and their human vocal chords had shriveled. Now unable to form words, the werewolves would communicate only by howling until they changed back to human shape.
Their humanity was draining away like sand in an hourglass, and the race was on to find a private spot to shift. Few werewolves were happy to be seen halfwaythrough their change. It could often be a brutal experience to witness, and definitely not recommended.
Crescent chose the trailer farthest from the rest of the camp, near to the large open space of grass and trees known as the
Champ de Mars
. They had run here on other occasions, taking care to keep within sight of each other, and away from humans, not daring to stray into any built-up neighborhoods. The only good thing about the cold snap was that fewer people were about to spot a gang of large furry creatures with big teeth.
Crescent could feel the blood in her veins start to fizz and zing as it always did when her change was imminent. She undressed hurriedly, trembling with the onset of the change and shivering under the cold light of the swollen moon. The first spasm knocked her to her knees, making her howl. It forced her to lie prone on the freezing grass, but she was oblivious to everything apart from the shift. She could see her hands stretch out before her into large paws with long, blackened claws. Then,
CRAAAAACK
⦠Her neck lengthened and her spine made a bone-crunching, snapping sound that would have set her considerably larger teeth on edge if she hadnât beenpreoccupied with everything else being rearranged. Her nose and mouth rippled and stretched until they had formed the shape of a snout, and her canine teeth grew into sharp, white points. While luxuriant copper-colored fur grew all over her body, her long, fire-engine red human hair retreated eerily back into her scalp. Seconds later, the long plume of her tail appeared, completing her change. It had taken just minutes, and now she was eager to find the others.
Her sharp ears picked up a guttural half howl. She recognized Otisâs gruff voice and loped toward the sound, making a yipping noise in reply. Crescent could see three black wolf shapes silhouetted by the light of the moon. They yipped excitedly, circling each other and snapping at each otherâs heels, whipping up a frenzy for the nightâs run. It was not unusual for a she-wolf to be the alpha leader, and there had never been any question from the boys that Crescent would be the boss, although Otis had been a werewolf longer and was older by eighteen months. Ramone, the smallest wolf, acted as lookout; quiet, sensitive Salim was the scout; and Otis was the brains.
Crescent was easily the fastest, and she led them awayfrom the circus camp to the open spaces of the Champ de Mars. They ran, feeling their energy and power build with each step as they loped out into the parklands. She led the small pack along the border of trees, sniffing the cold air for scents. It was proving disappointing; it seemed it was just too cold for anything to be out. Crescent caught a tantalizing whiff of something promising meat, but it was carrion: the chewed, frozen body of
By the time the moon shone again, Saffi Besson had vanished. It was as though she had never been there at all.
CHAPTER 9
A N E NGLISH W EREWOLF IN P ARIS
Hunger howled deep inside their bellies. No matter how much food they would eat later, it would never be the same as eating meat that was still alive. Just before Crescent lost the power of human speech, she delivered her final instructions to the Howlers.
âDonât do anything to draw attention to yourselves,â she growled. âRepeat after me: Donât. Do. Anything. Stupid.â
â
GgrrrdondoaneeeyooooohhOOOOOOOOHAAHWOOOOOOooo
!â howled Otis. It was too late for the others. They were struggling with the early stages of the shift and their human vocal chords had shriveled. Now unable to form words, the werewolves would communicate only by howling until they changed back to human shape.
Their humanity was draining away like sand in an hourglass, and the race was on to find a private spot to shift. Few werewolves were happy to be seen halfwaythrough their change. It could often be a brutal experience to witness, and definitely not recommended.
Crescent chose the trailer farthest from the rest of the camp, near to the large open space of grass and trees known as the
Champ de Mars
. They had run here on other occasions, taking care to keep within sight of each other, and away from humans, not daring to stray into any built-up neighborhoods. The only good thing about the cold snap was that fewer people were about to spot a gang of large furry creatures with big teeth.
Crescent could feel the blood in her veins start to fizz and zing as it always did when her change was imminent. She undressed hurriedly, trembling with the onset of the change and shivering under the cold light of the swollen moon. The first spasm knocked her to her knees, making her howl. It forced her to lie prone on the freezing grass, but she was oblivious to everything apart from the shift. She could see her hands stretch out before her into large paws with long, blackened claws. Then,
CRAAAAACK
⦠Her neck lengthened and her spine made a bone-crunching, snapping sound that would have set her considerably larger teeth on edge if she hadnât beenpreoccupied with everything else being rearranged. Her nose and mouth rippled and stretched until they had formed the shape of a snout, and her canine teeth grew into sharp, white points. While luxuriant copper-colored fur grew all over her body, her long, fire-engine red human hair retreated eerily back into her scalp. Seconds later, the long plume of her tail appeared, completing her change. It had taken just minutes, and now she was eager to find the others.
Her sharp ears picked up a guttural half howl. She recognized Otisâs gruff voice and loped toward the sound, making a yipping noise in reply. Crescent could see three black wolf shapes silhouetted by the light of the moon. They yipped excitedly, circling each other and snapping at each otherâs heels, whipping up a frenzy for the nightâs run. It was not unusual for a she-wolf to be the alpha leader, and there had never been any question from the boys that Crescent would be the boss, although Otis had been a werewolf longer and was older by eighteen months. Ramone, the smallest wolf, acted as lookout; quiet, sensitive Salim was the scout; and Otis was the brains.
Crescent was easily the fastest, and she led them awayfrom the circus camp to the open spaces of the Champ de Mars. They ran, feeling their energy and power build with each step as they loped out into the parklands. She led the small pack along the border of trees, sniffing the cold air for scents. It was proving disappointing; it seemed it was just too cold for anything to be out. Crescent caught a tantalizing whiff of something promising meat, but it was carrion: the chewed, frozen body of
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