The Calling 5 by Kelley Armstrong

Author:Kelley Armstrong
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-06-08T06:10:22+00:00

TWENTY

DANIEL OPENED THE trapdoor leading into the crawl space,

then prodded us inside, whispering “Move, move!” Sam

and I burrowed past the boxes. Corey was right behind us.

Then the front door opened, bel jangling.

Daniel jumped in, stil holding the broken latch, and

closed the trapdoor as one set of footsteps circled the

shop. They stopped at the storage room door. Daniel

tensed, ready to leap if the trapdoor opened.

“Clear!” Moreno yel ed.

The steps crossed the store. The bel sounded again.

“Get in farther,” Daniel whispered. “We need to hide

better.”

“Didn’t you hear him?” Corey whispered. “We’re clear.”

“They’l look outside some more. Then they’l come

back in.”

The guys shifted the boxes, then we crawled in behind

them. It was far from an ideal hiding spot. The crawl space

wasn’t even three feet deep. Dirt floor. I didn’t want to think

about what else was alive—or dead—down here. I twisted

around and stretched out on my stomach. Sam huddled

beside me, hugging her knees.

The guys wiggled backward to us, as they moved the

boxes and cases of beer, stacking them so we were

hidden.

How long should we wait? That was the question.

Final y Sam asked it out loud

“Until we think it’s safe,” I whispered.

“Then twenty minutes more,” Daniel said. “To be sure.”

When it final y seemed as if anyone searching for us

had to be gone, I told Corey to check his watch. He was just

doing that when I heard the sound of the front doorbel s.

Footsteps fol owed. Stil only one set. Again they

circled the shop.

“Definitely empty,” Moreno said. “They’ve got to be out

there.”

A voice came through his radio. Then the door bel s

jangled again.

“They’re trying to use the dog.” It was Antone. “But

she’s not cooperating. She just lays down and growls at

anyone who touches her.”

Good girl.

“Wel , there’s no one in here,” Moreno said. “What we

real y need is the Enwright witch’s sensing spel and a

werewolf tracker.”

“Preaching to the choir, buddy. I’ve been hounding

head office for two days now. They final y agreed to send

the witch. No chance on a werewolf, though.”

The door to the back room opened.

“What have we here?” Moreno murmured. A creak as

he opened the trapdoor. Light filtered past the stacked

boxes.

“Got something?” Antone cal ed.

“Nah, just storage for the booze.”

“Wel , check it out.”

Moreno chuckled. “Happy to, boss.”

We held our breath as he pushed aside a beer case. I

glanced over at Daniel. He had his eyes closed. Sweat

shone on his forehead. His lips moved as he tried to

mental y persuade Moreno that he’d looked hard enough.

Let it work. Please let it work.

Moreno hesitated. Then he backed out and yel ed.

“Just boxes. You want a beer?”

I didn’t hear what Antone said, but Moreno laughed

and let the trapdoor fal shut. The bel s over the door jangled

a few minutes later. Daniel checked his watch. After twenty

minutes, he helped me crawl forward, open the hatch, and

listen.

“Nothing,” I whispered.

“Give it another five minutes.”

We did. Then I insisted on going first to check. I crept

to one of the broken front windows, listened hard, then

peered out.

The yard looked empty. I checked the side window.

Same thing. I glanced back toward the storage room.

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