Autumn's Blood: The Spirit Shifters, Book One by Marissa Farrar Page A

ear.
“Haverly? You still there? Can you hear me?”
    But the line was dead.
    “Damn it!” Blake hung up and dropped
his own phone to the floor. He lifted one heavily-booted foot and
brought it down hard, again and again, smashing the item into a
dozen smaller pieces.
    “What did you do that for?” Autumn
asked, aghast.
    “Dumas’ lot can track a cell. They’ll
be here soon.”
    Blake closed his eyes,
focusing in on his wolf. Because of the recent shift, his guide was
already near and answered him quickly. Guard, Blake told it. Watch out for enemies. He sensed his wolf’s understanding, and the animal took off,
patrolling the perimeter of the building at a fast trot, its head
held high. Its ears were pricked for sound, nostrils flared for the
scent of danger.
    Blake crossed the room and climbed the
set of metal stairs to the raised level that served as his bedroom.
He flung open the closet and pulled out a hold-all bag containing
another gun, extra ammunition, a fake ID, and a wad of
cash.
    “What are you doing?” Autumn called up
to him.
    He hoisted the bag onto his shoulder
and headed back down the steps. “We can’t stay here. I thought I’d
kept this place a secret, but they’ve tracked my phone.” He looked
at Autumn and noted that at least she didn’t have her purse with
her. One less thing to worry about. “We need to get out of
here.”
    He took her by the elbow and pulled
her along.
    “Where are we going?” she asked,
breaking into a trot to keep up with his long strides.
    “I’m not sure yet.”
    The image of a long black car with
blacked out windows cruising by suddenly appeared in his head—his
wolf warning him.
    “Shit,” he swore, breaking into a run.
“They’re already here.”
    She ran with him now, no longer
showing the resistance she had before witnessing his shift into
wolf form. Together, they ran with Blake leading to the back of his
apartment. Hidden in the back wall, a smaller door was cut into the
brick.
    “Come on.”
    They ducked through and stepped out
into a narrow alleyway. Industrial-sized trashcans lined the
opposite wall. A couple of windows were positioned higher up, metal
bars barring the way—they weren’t an option for escape.
    In his head appeared the image of a
man in a long, dark coat, a gun held close against its folds. The
man stayed close to the wall, skirting the perimeter. At the
intruder’s back, Blake’s wolf guide growled, but there was nothing
it could do in spirit form except relay information back to
Blake.
    “Stay here,” he hissed at Autumn,
pressing her against the wall. He put out a hand as though to
steady her.
    “Where are you going?” she hissed
back.
    He placed his finger
against his lips. Be quiet.
    Movement came from around the corner,
the strange man moving like a cop, with his back to Blake’s
building. As he rounded the bend, he began to turn, but he moved
too late.
    Blake grabbed the man, one arm wrapped
around his throat, the other knocking the gun from his hand. The
weapon hit the ground with a clatter, skidding across the concrete.
The man didn’t even get the chance to shout out in surprise. Blake
tightened his grip and a choked, strangling sound escaping from the
man’s throat. His feet kicked, trying to find purchase, but Blake
was easily six inches taller than the attacker—not to mention
immensely stronger and faster—and he didn’t stand a chance. Blake
knew from experience that the man’s lips would be turning blue by
now, his eyes bulging.
    He sent a thought out to
his wolf: Are there any more? If he was found now, he’d be shot before he even
got the chance to let go of the man he held captive. In his arms,
the intruder went limp.
    Blake wouldn’t kill the man, but he’d
certainly leave him unconscious for an hour or more. He let go and
the guy slumped to the floor.
    His wolf sent him images, another two
men around the other side of the building. But were there more on
his side? He couldn’t imagine them