Chapter Sixteen
I powered down Fang Street with a stitch in my side. Marcel had run far ahead of me in a blur of motion because we assumed we’d look doubly suspicious walking through the Werewolves’ Quarter together — a witch and a vampire did make odd company, even on a good day.
In stark contrast to the last time I’d been here with Beau, there were dozens of people out on the street. Maybe it was because it was after dark? Were the werewolves nocturnal too? I had no idea.
Regardless, most of them looked harmless, though they did stare at me like I was more than a little suspicious — who could blame them, they had to know who I was — but I tried to pay them no mind. The only thing I cared about was getting to Tony before he had the chance to do anything rash.
With my hands in my pock
