I said cheerfully. We were at a safe house, half a mile from the scene and on the other side of the river. Everyone was inside, Tom was calling HQ to report, and I was speaking to the LA Were, who were trussed up like turkeys ready for the oven. The Altau patrol were still glaring at the Were. Being shot at does that to you. The fact that we’d captured them didn’t seem to be enough payback. And the Were knew it, even though they were still suffering from shock. They just about managed a snarl at me between them. All guys. If I didn’t know, I’d have been hard put to pick them out of an LA crowd as Were. Black pants; bulky, colorful jackets; scarves; plain shirts; work boots. I sniffed, let their marque take its unique form in my nose, tasted their Call. “You aren’t Pasadena, so I’m guessing maybe Redondo?” One of them spat. I ignored that.
What do You think about Bite Back 05 - Angel Stakes?
