Under My Skin Read Online Free PDF Page A

known as Redgrave’s downtown . The street ran from one end of town to the other, with the majority of shops, banks, and town service buildings gathered near the middle, but not one car passed as I walked down the sidewalk. Redgrave sidewalks rolled up at nine sharp. No 24-hour grocery chains or fast food joints here—the total opposite of living in Vancouver where even bookstores were open until midnight.
    The mist clung to the werewolf’s scent, thickening it, making it raunchier—if that were possible. I paused at the corner of Foulton and Cornerbrook. A lamppost to my left was plastered with flyers. I stepped closer, peering at the pages, some typed and others handwritten. All had pictures of…pets. Missing pets. Dogs, cats, and even little bunnies. No wonder I hadn’t startled any dogs during my trek through Redgrave backyards. One rogue werewolf couldn’t have turned them all into Scooby snacks, could he?
    Then it started—a clamor of animals, like a zoo gone mad. I flinched at the assault. I struggled to filter the sounds, the shrill screech of birds, yips of puppies, and yowls of kittens. I froze, scanning the empty street.
    There. Down a block and across the pothole-scarred road.
    I focused in. While wonder-vision was fun, I had the sneaking suspicion if I overused that particular skill, my eyes might start to cross and stay crossed forever.
    The display window at Polly’s Pet Emporium had been shattered, broken glass littered the sidewalk, and an amber glow from the store’s security lighting spilled onto the street.
    I shook my head, returning my vision from wolven-zoom to normal. No sirens wailed in the distance. Where were all the cops in this town? Was crime so nonexistent they didn’t even respond when a store alarm tripped?
    I jogged down the block debating my next move. I had promised the Hunter Council I would lay low. In exchange, they’d promised to find my parents. Keeping the council happy was my only shot at uncovering the truth.
    Wasn’t my fault they hadn’t done their research about Redgrave. Rather than the small, quiet northern town they thought they’d chosen, turned out Redgrave had big bad freakage. Surely the Council wouldn’t want me to play all damsel-in-a-mess and sit on the sidelines while a rogue werewolf ran wild? Besides, how hard could it be to take down one itty-bitty werewolf? I’d helped Dad and his hunters drop a whole pack in a few hours.
    I crossed the road and stepped cautiously over the jagged glass protruding from the window frame. Glass crunched under my shoes, the sound as explosive as a land mine. I froze, holding my breath.
    When nothing charged at me from the pet shop’s glowing interior, I crept farther inside.
    Ugh. I wasn’t sure what stunk worse—the ripe-smelling werewolf on his haunches, leaning over a bunny cage, or the fear blasting from the bunnies dodging his seeking hands.
    My breath came fast and hard. I panted lightly, working for control. My inner wolf licked its chops at the heady scent of fear rippling through all the animals in the store but recoiled at the unsportsmanlike tactics. Where was the fun in slaughter? Where was the thrill of the hunt? The chase?
    I whipped out my athame and held it high. My hand shook with a blend of exhilaration and blind terror.
    I cleared my throat.
    Once.
    Twice.
    Too busy crunching on Peter Rabbit, the werewolf didn’t hear me over his own bloodlust.
    “How much is that beastie in the window?” I belted out an old wolven favorite in my very un- American-Idol -worthy singing voice. That oughta get his attention. “The one eating bunnies for sale?” I sang, mucking around with the lyrics.
    The werewolf’s dark form stilled. His morphed hand, sporting a mix of human fingers and bestial claws, opened. A lucky bunny dropped from his grip, landing unharmed on the blood-spattered floor. It scurried under some metal shelving, its pale fur stained crimson.
    A snarl of annoyance rumbled in the werewolf’s