Wild Blood by Nancy A. Collins Page A

ever supposed to ‘feel better’?” Skinner sputtered in disbelief. “I’m a murderer and a cannibal! I’m a monster!”
    â€œYou’re being too hard on yourself. Way I see it, you’re a damn miracle. C’mon, Skin. We gotta get you some clothes before you catch your death. Then we gotta snag ourselves some wheels. They’re gonna be out lookin’ for all the chickens that flew the coop last night, if they ain’t already.”
    â€œLet ’em find me, then.”
    â€œYou don’t want that, kid.”
    â€œYou have no idea what the fuck I do and don’t wannnn—!” Before Skinner could finish he was overcome by another wave of nausea, doubling over with each racking heave.
    Creighton merely shook his head and picked up his friend as it he was a recalcitrant toddler to bed. “I don’t pretend to know everything, Skinner. But I’m pretty damn sure I know what’s better for you than you do, right now.”

Chapter Eleven
    Dawn had yet to break as the pair of vans came to a halt at the foot of Bulldog Mesa, five miles south of Tucumcari. Before the dust had a chance to settle, the doors flew open and several figures piled out. The minivan’s sound system shattered the early morning silence with Cradle of Filth. Ripper, relieved to be free of the confines of the vehicle, danced in a circle in time with the music, yipping at the retreating moon. He kicked up clouds of dust with his scuffed combat boots and then threw himself onto the ground and rolled around in the dirt. Being the youngest member of the pack, he tended to be the most enthusiastic.
    Hew leaned against the side of the microbus, sipping beer from a forty-ounce bottle as he watched the drummer leap and jump about. Meanwhile, Sunder prowled the perimeter cautiously sniffing the wind, while Jag and Rend walked around to the cargo area.
    Jez slowly stretched, her arms lifted high over her head, and made sure her traveling companions saw her exposed midriff. “Any sign of intruders?”
    â€œI caught scent of a couple of coyotes and a puma, that’s about it,” Sunder replied.
    â€œCoyotes?” Jez frowned. “Are you sure about that?”
    â€œI know true coyote when I smell it,” Sunder spat.
    â€œI’m not saying you don’t, my pet. It’s just that—well, we are in the heart of enemy territory. We can’t be too careful … not after what happened to poor Growler back in Los Angeles. Isn’t that right?” she asked, fixing him with a hard, golden stare.
    Sunder grunted and rolled his shoulders in a surly shrug, but did not meet Jez’s gaze.
    â€œStop squabbling and get ready!” Jag barked, tossing his hair out of his face with an angry shake of his head. “We’ve still got to make that sound check in Albuquerque!”
    â€œYes, brother dear,” Jez replied with a roll of her eyes.
    Jag fished the keys to the back of the microbus from his hip pocket and unlocked the side doors. Rend crawled inside and a second later a man and woman, their hands cuffed behind their backs, were unceremoniously dumped onto the hard dirt.
    Jag squatted on his haunches and smirked as the prey struggled to roll over. “What’s the matter, Perry? Are my little restraining devices a bit too real for you?”
    The captive man tried to roll onto his back, but Jag put his boot on his neck and forced his face back into the dust.
    Perry spat dirt from his mouth and glared up at the musician looming over him. “What’s this mind-fuck control shit you’re trying to pull, huh, Jag? You said you and your weirdo sister wanted to play doubles. You didn’t say nothing about bondage and a gang-bang!”
    â€œHey, you’re the one who came backstage in Amarillo,” Jag reminded him with a sneer. “You said you were into rough trade. Well, they don’t get any rougher’n me and my running