Had I been a wiser man, I would’ve remembered Murphy’s Law. That the gorgon hive and their lycanthrope friends cleared out of the food court without incident should’ve tipped me off something bad was about to happen.

Murphy’s Law always kicked in right after I experienced some good luck. It was the one thing in life I could rely on.

As I counted my problems with wanting my boss for my life-long mate as a good thing, I should’ve been on guard against Murphy and his damned law. While I wanted to believe no good deed went unpunished applied over Murphy’s Law, I hadn’t done any good deeds worthy of notice.

As so often happened in my line of work, trouble started with a pixie. The bat-winged blight hadn’t been one of the gorgon groupies; his species preferred being loners, and unlike his cheery cousins, his dust was the kind likely to send someone straight into a murderous rage.

Whether by accident or design, a lycanthrope—a cat, judging from his scent—and a human got a full dose of the dark gray, shimmering powder. In the time it took me to curse, the blighter darted off.

The lycanthrope roared, and his body twisted, grew orange and black fur, and tore through his clothes. I could’ve dealt with another wolf, but a tiger was a whole different ballpark, one I wanted nothing to do with. The human, or what I had thought was a human, showed off a pair of pointy teeth and hissed.

A tiger and a vampire tangoing in the food court would end in bloodshed, and I didn’t want to find out who would be the victor. I also didn’t want to breathe in any of the gray dust, either. If I did, I likely wouldn’t remember a damned thing. Part of my training with the CDC involved controlled tests of dangerous substances.

Pixie dust was good.

Bat-winged blight dust was bad.

My beautiful boss would kill me if I got a dose of it. After she finished killing me, she’d find a way to bring me back from the dead so she could kill me again.

Why was breathing necessary?

All I could do was hope my canister of foam neutralizer would be enough to keep me from joining the rampage. Expecting the worst, I gave the can a good shake, prepared for the run of my life, and stepped forward, spraying the infuriated pair in the face in hopes of limiting the damage to a lycanthrope, a vampire, and me.

I succeeded at my primary goal: the tiger and vampire were no longer interested in killing each other. Their attention fixed on me, and just like good prey did when crossing the path of predators, I ran like a bat out of hell. Running as a human wouldn’t work; the tiger would catch up and sink his claws into my ass before I escaped the food court. As a wolf, I had a chance of outrunning them as long as they didn’t corner me.

The tables served as blockades, buying me enough time to shift. I left my clothes a torn pile on the floor along with my abused wallet and the CDC’s temporary phone. I’d get hell over that later, but living trumped keeping my CDC identification card and phone on me.

The tiger roared, reared on his hind paws, and batted a table with his paw. It crunched beneath the force of the blow, the wooden top splintering while the metal leg bent in half. If he got a hold of me, I’d regret it for however long it took him to rip me to pieces.

I gave it five minutes at most.

Two days of patrolling the mall gave me a good idea of its layout, which might save my head from a premature removal from the rest of my body. On the other end of the food court, I had the choice of diving down the escalator or staying on the catwalk over the first floor. Jumping over the rail to the level below would be an option, if I could make some distance. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to get too far ahead of the tiger and vampire; the pair might redirect their fury to someone else.

All I wanted in life was one week that didn’t involve some sort of disaster likely to end with me being mauled, petrified, or otherwise indisposed thanks to the weird and weirder. One week without a disaster sounded like an unobtainable heaven, something reserved for those who’d done nothing but good in their lives.

As enraged lycanthropes, cantankerous centaurs, and bloodthirsty vampires weren’t uncommon, the late-night shoppers had the sense to get out of my way when I came barreling down the walkway, sparing a single breath to howl, drawing everyone’s attention to me. The wise ones retreated into the nearest stores and watched from a safe distance. Others took pictures with their phones, but I wasn’t sure if they found me or my pursuers more interesting.

Probably both.

A bright purple and blue wolf with a tiger and vampire close behind drew attention. Forget a new job. I needed an entire new life. Unless I had a change in luck, I wouldn’t have a life at all. If the pair hot on my heels didn’t tear me to pieces, I had a long list of people waiting to teach me to stay out of trouble in violent ways.

Jerome would attempt to beat self-defense skills into me. Allison would help. If Ethel joined in, I’d let them.

The rest of the pack would make popcorn and watch the mayhem.

Escaping the tiger and vampire came first. If I didn’t give them the slip after luring them away from the mall, nothing else would matter. They’d reduce me to a bloody clump of fur smeared across the ground.

I bolted towards the main hub of the mall where the catwalks narrowed and met. With a good jump, I could reach one of the other catwalks, hit the staircase down to the first floor, and head for the nearest exit.

Once outside, I could lure the pair away from civilization and run them in circles until they collapsed or the dust wore off. I bet on collapse, which led to a whole lot of problems for me. Rage would give them strength and endurance I lacked, so it was entirely possible I’d be the one to collapse first.

The fact the dust had hit them so hard and fast worried me; it meant the bat-winged blight packed a high grade, which could last for hours before wearing off. If I caught the sparkling bastard, I’d tear him apart. He wouldn’t regret his choices long, and I’d enjoy using his bones as toothpicks. I wouldn’t like having to pick bits of bat-winged blight out of my teeth for hours, but some sacrifices needed to be made for the greater good.

Just to be safe, I’d wait until I was somewhere private before shredding the bat-winged blight so I could rage in private.

Or I could marinade the fluttering bastard in neutralizer before I ripped him apart.

I liked that idea a lot.

The catwalk leading to the mall’s central hub was clogged with shoppers, forcing me to weave through them and slow down long enough to howl to catch their attention so they’d get out of my way. When I drew close, I skidded around one of the kiosks, sank my claws into the tile floor, and jumped over the glass barricade to the other side. I slammed into the railing of the neighboring catwalk, dug my hind claws into the glass, and scrambled up and over the railing.

Someone behind me screamed.

I hoped the woman screamed because I’d just jumped between two catwalks rather than because the tiger or vampire had gotten a hold of her. Bolting for the staircase, I clawed at the floor for traction, fully focusing my attention on my goal. Glass shattered and pelted me in the rump. Picking out the shards wouldn’t be my idea of a good time, but I preferred it to someone picking what was left of me out of a tiger’s claws.

Why couldn’t I have been a cheetah lycanthrope? Or a horse? A horse would’ve been acceptable, too. Honestly, I would’ve been happy with anything other than a bright purple and blue wolf with zero camouflage abilities.

“Dale?” Allison squealed.

After Allison finished shredding the tiger, she’d come after me, and I’d end up in the same damned boat headed straight to the afterlife. Since slowing down or acknowledging her would send me to the afterlife faster, I ignored my alpha, plunged down the stairs, and headed for the east wing exits, which were closest to the highway.

With my luck, I’d be the one smacked by a car running into traffic, but the alternatives left a sour taste in my mouth. Lycanthropes were durable. I’d survive.

Probably.

Lycanthropes and highways didn’t mix, and I’d feel guilty later for luring the tiger onto an obstacle course of speeding vehicles, concrete medians, asphalt, and potential death. Willfully causing an accident would likely lose me my job, but if I let the tiger and vampire run loose, there’d be carnage, and I’d lose my job anyway.

No matter what I did, I’d lose.

Diving across four lanes of traffic wouldn’t end well for somebody, but I did it anyway. With the pair nipping at my heels, my best bet was to head for the suburbs on the other side of the highway, which led into a forested state park. I ran along the shoulder until I spotted several transports barreling towards me.

I darted across, aware if I took a single misstep, I’d be splattered on the asphalt.

Crunch.

Since I wasn’t the one having a close encounter with a truck, I kept running.

The tiger’s roar thundered, and he didn’t sound too far behind me. Either he’d gotten hit and refused to stop chasing me or the vampire had gotten steamrolled. If the vampire had gotten smacked, I wouldn’t feel too bad about it.

He’d probably get back up without too much of a fuss. It’d just take a few blood donations and time.

Later, I could inquire about the vampire’s fate and apologize for running him out into traffic while he was hopped up on a bat-winged blight’s rage-inducing glitter. I’d even be nice and offer a donation, although I wouldn’t let him take it directly out of my veins.

I had a guilty conscience, not a death wish.

The tiger roared again, and I plowed across the rest of the highway and began my search for a suitable place for running an enraged tiger in circles until one of us collapsed or he caught me.

The distant howls of wolves offered some hope I wouldn’t have to handle the tiger alone—assuming the wolves were part of my pack. Those who spent more time with the pack could identify each other by their howls. I couldn’t.

If Jerome found out, he’d insist on some variant of cruel and unusual punishment to change that, likely in the form of a pack sleepover party.

Maybe letting the tiger catch me would be a mercy.

Where had I gone wrong with my life?

With no other choice, I ran and hoped for the best.

Without magic rage dust goading me, it came as no surprise when the tiger caught me by the tail, sank his claws into my rump, and slammed me to the ground.

Ouch.

I rolled, shifted to my hybrid form, and snagged the tiger’s chest, brought my feet into play, and tossed him off. Flipping onto my stomach, I rose to a crouch, showed off my long, sharp teeth, and barked a warning.

The tiger staggered to his paws, shaking his head.

Since everyone was convinced I packed a punch, I balled my hand and clobbered the tiger between the ears until he flopped on the ground with a groan. To make certain he stayed down, I sat on him. “Bad tiger.”

Someone clapped, and I growled, seeking the source of the sound.

The bat-winged blight flitted through the trees and hovered just out of my reach. “You run fast. You hit hard, too. No wonder you’re worth so much. Rumor on the wire says you have a good female, too.”

A nicer man would’ve given a little warning—or refrained from violence. I jumped, lashed out with my clawed hand, and smashed the bat-winged blight against the nearest tree. I’d start with the menace’s wings, plucking them out and grinding them to powder so he’d never bother anyone, especially me, ever again.

The little bastard dropped to the ground, and I pounced, pinning my prey between my paw. Ethel would either praise or kill me over what I was about to do, but I no longer cared.

By the time I was done, I’d be using the bastard as a toothpick. I flexed my free hand and eyed his wings. “I was hoping for my chance to do this, you glitter-winged menace.”

He screamed.