I sat with Jack in his car, in the parking lot of his work. Jack rested his forehead against the steering wheel, arms crossed above his head. I shifted uncomfortably, keeping my arms crossed to press my chest down. At least the sweats were baggy and shapeless, so they did a good job of hiding my unbound breasts. Still, I hated having Jack see me like this.

Into the silence I asked, “I thought silver hurt werewolves, not vampires.”

His voice muffled by his arms, Jack said, “Everett, I told you before, don’t go looking to myths for answers. Supernaturals started a lot of those myths themselves, to try and obfuscate which ones are true. You’ll get hurt if you keep that attitude up.”

“Hurt.” I made quotation marks with my fingers and rolled my eyes. “May I live so long.”

He groaned into his steering wheel. “You really don’t know why someone is trying to kill you?”

“I told you, no!” My voice rose in pitch and I paused, taking a deep breath as I worked to control my anger. It wasn’t Jack’s fault. It wasn’t Jack I was angry at. “No, but I guess I have an idea, at least. Who would have known to find me here?” I gestured to the dark woods surrounding the secret, hidden building.

Jack turned his head to look at me out of the corner of his eye and frowned. “You’re right. Dave and Stacy knew you were there, but not who you were. I gave them a fake name.” He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the steering wheel. “The police station,” Jack said, straightening up.

I shot Jack a questioning look.

“That’s the only connection, the request I made through the agency to get information about the incident.” His frown deepened. “Someone at the station must be keeping an eye on your file. When Dave asked our contact about you, someone passed our information on to your killer, or someone who knew them. The killer came out and staked out the building, on the off chance you were here. Then, when they saw you coming out the door, bam.” He slapped one hand on the steering wheel.

“They shot me.” I shuddered, remembering the odd sensation of the bullet punching through me.

“They didn’t just shoot you; that was a perfect shot through your heart. An assassination if I ever saw one. Your killer is a professional.”

“Wouldn’t a professional have shot me in the head?”

Jack turned the key to start his car, shaking his head. “No, too easy to miss. The chest is a much bigger target. Even if the shooter misses the heart, the shot is likely to hit something important and injure, if not incapacitate or outright kill the victim, giving the shooter a chance to finish the job.” I made a face.

“Yeah, but it at least gives us a place to start investigating.” He backed out of the spot, then headed back down the road.

“Is that really a good idea?” I asked, watching the tunnel of trees flash by in the headlights. “Sounds a bit to me like going into the lion’s den.”

“We need to get some answers, and quick, before your killer figures out that you’re more than human.” Jack turned back into the car lot, slowly crunching down the gravel.

“About that… Wouldn’t the killer have already thought I was dead?” I mused. “I don’t really remember what happened, but I think they slit my throat before the vampire found me and brought me back. That seems pretty cut and dry to me.”

Jack barked out a laugh as he pulled out onto Highway 30, and I shrank as I realized the dark joke I’d just made. “Yes, but they probably got suspicious when your body wasn’t discovered. It’s rare to survive that kind of injury, but not out of the realm of possibility. But with the gunshot, we have a small window of opportunity here. The killer isn’t going to be looking for you right now, and they don’t know I’m helping you yet. We go to the police station and try to get some answers.”

“Does Andr— I mean, is there anyone you used to work with still work at the station that might be willing to help us?”

Jack shook his head. “I didn’t work in Portland; I moved here from Maryland. I’d been reported dead, and some of the cops besides Andre saw me change, so the local supernatural community decided it was safer for me to stay dead and to relocate me across the country.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been hard,” I said, thinking back to my own family that had cut me out of their life when I’d come out. It still stung. One of my brothers, Michael, occasionally went behind my parents’ back to talk to me and give me updates on the family. Michael was a closeted gay man, and I was the only family member he’d confided in so far. He’d been working on our parents, trying to get them to accept me in preparation for his own coming out, but last I heard, Michael hadn’t had much success.

“A bit, yeah. Didn’t mean to dump that on you. Anyway, they might not know who I am, but I know the lingo and procedures. But for this to work, we’ll need to make one stop on the way first.”

***

The stop Jack mentioned turned out to be the twenty-four-hour Walmart near Delta Park. When we got inside, Jack made a beeline for the men’s department while I split off. He grabbed my arm before I’d made it a few steps away.

“Men’s is this way,” Jack said, pointing up at the hanging sign visible across the store.

“I’m too short and thin. Nothing in that department fits me. I have to shop in boys’.” I tried not to glower at him. I did appreciate him treating me like just one of the guys, but I still hated how it made me feel abnormal to state out loud why I couldn’t just shop with him in the men’s section.

Jack gave me a half-smile, looking me over with a shake of his head.

“You are a bit pocket-sized, aren’t you?”

I glared at him and hugged myself tighter. “I’ll meet you at the fitting rooms in twenty.”

“Promise not to eat anyone, and you have a deal.”

I rolled my eyes, and Jack’s hand tightened around my arm.

“I’m serious, Everett.”

“Fine, I promise.”

Jack nodded and let go. “Get casual clothes—dark colors—and a hoodie.”

I waved him off and headed off to the boys’ section. I quickly found a plain black T-shirt, jeans, and hoodie in my size. Next, I made a detour to the health section. A new trans-specific binder like my ruined one wasn’t exactly something I could pick up from Walmart, but I’d improvised before in high school; a neoprene back brace from the pharmacy area could work in a pinch.

Once I met up with Jack and we changed in the fitting rooms, I wrapped the back brace around my chest and velcroed it tightly closed before putting on the shirt and hoodie. Under the T-shirt, my chest wasn’t even noticeable. Before we checked out, Jack made a detour to the electronics section and picked out a cheap prepaid cell phone and minutes card.

“Just in case,” he said, handing it over to me after opening it and putting in his number as a contact.

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Continue on to Chapter 9

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