Chapter 8: The Alley

Perry backed up one step.

The gray one came one step forward.

He opened his mouth and yelled the stupidest safety plan in Chicago.

"GARRET!"

The brown wolf jumped.

Perry didn't think.

He put both arms up in front of his stomach, and something in his blood went hot and bright.

The wolf hit his arms.

It should have knocked him flat.

Instead he shoved, and two hundred pounds of wolf flew backward into the dumpster with a bang that set off a car alarm on the street.

Perry stared at his own hands.

The brown wolf shook itself and came up snarling.

The gray one went low, for his legs.

He kicked.

Twenty years of tap. Heel drops, cramp rolls, wings.

His heel caught the wolf in the jaw, and he heard teeth click together.

It yelped and skidded on the wet bricks.

"Stay away from my baby!" he screamed at a wolf, in an alley, like a crazy person.

Both of them circled him.

They weren't trying to bite his face or his throat.

They kept going low and to the side, trying to get at his belly.

Somebody had told them where to bite.

The brown one gathered itself to jump again.

Then something came over the dry cleaner's roof.

It landed in the alley between them so hard the bricks cracked under it.

A black wolf, bigger than the other two put together.

Its eyes were gold. Its fur stood up along its back in a ridge.

It didn't growl.

It just went for them.

Perry had never seen anything move that fast.

It hit the brown wolf in the shoulder and threw it into the wall.

It turned and caught the gray one by the scruff and shook it.

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