“Ow.” When I raise my head again, I’m surrounded by giant werejavelinas in mid-shift form — snouts, glazed beady eyes, a half dozen of them, male and female, closing in from all sides. “Hi, guys!” I say, pointing. “The Big Bad Werewolf went thataway.” That’s the thing about having a mind-control chip shoved into your head. No sense of humor. I throw Quincie’s body over my shoulder, and a Javelina charges out of the shrub cover and stumbles up the pavement. He grunts, rubbing his short tusks together. I might be able to dodge past them to the trees, but not carrying Quincie. She’d tell me to stay on target, to leave her body here. No way am I going to do that. The Javelinas turn their thick heads, staring into the darkness behind me, unsteady on their feet. Someone’s coming. With my luck, it’s a stampeding herd of weremoose. No, it’s a black-and-white cop car, Sheriff Bigheart’s car. “Yoshi, jump!” That’s Kayla voice, coming from the front passenger window.
