into their voiced concerns.
They needed to feel the community spirit. This was not a pack, but they had a pack spirit. Storm let his words sink in before saying, "The first thing we need is a head count."
"You mean like a census?" a voice piped.
"Yes. Exactly like a census." Storm nodded. "Then we will know if anyone is missing and who they are." Storm scanned the room. "If there is anyone you have not seen in a few days, contact them, make sure they are fine, and let me know either way."
The group conferred in tiny bunches and came up with a handful of names, agreeing to check them all out immediately.
Storm spoke again. "There is danger out there. Danger we still have to identify. So far it is a danger to the Walkers only because this victim is a Walker. We don't know anything else. But we need to be careful. The Deep may be more at risk, just because we have this ... integrated clan. Because we all live so close together, and if the killer is targeting Walkers, there is a chance he could make a mistake. On the other hand, if the killer isn't targeting Walkers specifically then everyone is in danger. Either way we all need to be very careful." Storm's concern hung heavy in the crowd. The last thing he needed was to instill a fear for the Walkers within the population. There were factions that would use this as the opportunity to split the clan. But, I could see he had no choice. They had to be aware of the danger.
"What's the police doing about it?" a woman called from the center of the throng, black eyes flashing with suspicion.
"So far, they're following the normal procedures—forensic investigation, questioning the community, things like that," I answered taking my cue when Storm nodded at me.
"Can they tell? That the dead guy is a Skinwalker?" The question had hung in the air, and even though I didn't want to admit it to myself, I knew the answer and couldn't lie to them.
"We'll know more once the autopsy is done, but they’ll figure out something’s different. We have the animal inside us. It’ll be in our genes. They'll do the blood tests, find the anomalies and then—"
"Then they'll search the city, ripping it wide open until they find every one of you people." He'd remained silent until now. Samuel Collins leaned against a wall at the back of the crowd, one foot against the wall. He casually cleaned his fingernails with the blade of a small knife, head down, face hidden by a fall of oily black hair. If I hadn't recognized the voice, it would’ve seemed like he hadn’t spoken.
"They don't know anything yet. We may be able to avoid it by being careful. And by looking out for each other." Anjelo's last words held a hard edge, a message to Samuel—his opinion was not the only one that counted.
"I've always said something like this would happen. These abominations will be our ruin." Samuel's rant began to take on an evangelical quality as he faced the crowd and spewed his thoughts. His position at the rear of the crowd had been deliberate. The whole group had turned to him when he spoke. The entire gathering now focused on him instead of Anjelo.
Samuel, one of the more abrasive clan members, often vocalized his distrust of paranormals, including the Walkers. Scarier yet was the fact he had scored a few followers. They stood at the front of the group, amen-ing his claims as he spoke, staring at his face twisted with an enraged fervor, which seemed to incite any underlying prejudices the listeners may have. Samuel had been one of the oldest homeless people taken in by Storm and despite his dislike of paranormals, had remained with City Deep, probably for the comfort and security Storm provided. He liked to stir trouble when the opportunity presented itself.
Usually Storm quelled his rages. I looked at him on the other side of Anjelo.
He eyed Samuel beneath a fringe of thick lashes, as if contemplating the heated words, yet allowed the man to pour out the venom. My fear was Collins would infect other
They needed to feel the community spirit. This was not a pack, but they had a pack spirit. Storm let his words sink in before saying, "The first thing we need is a head count."
"You mean like a census?" a voice piped.
"Yes. Exactly like a census." Storm nodded. "Then we will know if anyone is missing and who they are." Storm scanned the room. "If there is anyone you have not seen in a few days, contact them, make sure they are fine, and let me know either way."
The group conferred in tiny bunches and came up with a handful of names, agreeing to check them all out immediately.
Storm spoke again. "There is danger out there. Danger we still have to identify. So far it is a danger to the Walkers only because this victim is a Walker. We don't know anything else. But we need to be careful. The Deep may be more at risk, just because we have this ... integrated clan. Because we all live so close together, and if the killer is targeting Walkers, there is a chance he could make a mistake. On the other hand, if the killer isn't targeting Walkers specifically then everyone is in danger. Either way we all need to be very careful." Storm's concern hung heavy in the crowd. The last thing he needed was to instill a fear for the Walkers within the population. There were factions that would use this as the opportunity to split the clan. But, I could see he had no choice. They had to be aware of the danger.
"What's the police doing about it?" a woman called from the center of the throng, black eyes flashing with suspicion.
"So far, they're following the normal procedures—forensic investigation, questioning the community, things like that," I answered taking my cue when Storm nodded at me.
"Can they tell? That the dead guy is a Skinwalker?" The question had hung in the air, and even though I didn't want to admit it to myself, I knew the answer and couldn't lie to them.
"We'll know more once the autopsy is done, but they’ll figure out something’s different. We have the animal inside us. It’ll be in our genes. They'll do the blood tests, find the anomalies and then—"
"Then they'll search the city, ripping it wide open until they find every one of you people." He'd remained silent until now. Samuel Collins leaned against a wall at the back of the crowd, one foot against the wall. He casually cleaned his fingernails with the blade of a small knife, head down, face hidden by a fall of oily black hair. If I hadn't recognized the voice, it would’ve seemed like he hadn’t spoken.
"They don't know anything yet. We may be able to avoid it by being careful. And by looking out for each other." Anjelo's last words held a hard edge, a message to Samuel—his opinion was not the only one that counted.
"I've always said something like this would happen. These abominations will be our ruin." Samuel's rant began to take on an evangelical quality as he faced the crowd and spewed his thoughts. His position at the rear of the crowd had been deliberate. The whole group had turned to him when he spoke. The entire gathering now focused on him instead of Anjelo.
Samuel, one of the more abrasive clan members, often vocalized his distrust of paranormals, including the Walkers. Scarier yet was the fact he had scored a few followers. They stood at the front of the group, amen-ing his claims as he spoke, staring at his face twisted with an enraged fervor, which seemed to incite any underlying prejudices the listeners may have. Samuel had been one of the oldest homeless people taken in by Storm and despite his dislike of paranormals, had remained with City Deep, probably for the comfort and security Storm provided. He liked to stir trouble when the opportunity presented itself.
Usually Storm quelled his rages. I looked at him on the other side of Anjelo.
He eyed Samuel beneath a fringe of thick lashes, as if contemplating the heated words, yet allowed the man to pour out the venom. My fear was Collins would infect other
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