Chapter
Ten
Connor clung to the top of the ladder, staring
into the loft. Changelings had keen eyesight, but it was still a
struggle to adjust to the late afternoon sunlight glaring hotly in
the far window. He shaded his eyes, realized they still had that
gritty ache of not enough sleep, even though he’d slept like the
dead last night. It was sheer luxury having someone else on call
instead of him, but he had been up at dawn just the same, tending
to things on his own farm. Now he was in the middle of a very long
list of errands, and picking up some udder balm and antibiotics
from the clinic was one of them. Still, despite the distractions,
the moment he’d crossed the threshold of the building, he had
scented his brother.
James? James, what the
hell are you doing up here? He spoke by thought, even though
there was no one to overhear him.
Good hiding place. No
hunters. There was a movement to Connor’s left, and a white
wolf raised its massive head, shook the straw from its face, and
regarded Connor with its vivid blue eyes.
Connor climbed the rest of the way into
the loft and sat beside the wolf, even as he frowned over James’s
words. Wolves weren’t a protected species here, but the forests
surrounding Dunvegan were more likely to be filled with berry
pickers than hunters at this time of year. Sounds
like bullshit, James. Since when do you give a rat’s ass about
hunters? They’d never get close to you and we both know
it.
The white wolf turned its head to the
window.
Look, bro, don’t get me
wrong, you’re welcome here—but why are you
here? And for that matter, why did my brand new vet come in this
week smelling like you and covered in white wolf hair? She’s crazy
about wolves so I’m sure it gave her a thrill to see you up close
and personal, but it’s not like you to run around revealing
yourself to humans. What the hell’s going on with
you?
Don’t
know.
What do you mean, you
don’t know? Connor stopped himself then. Took a deep breath,
then another. Sat down in the straw, shoving the great wolf over a
little to make room. Let me try that again, James.
It scared the living hell out of me to find out that a human has
not only seen you, but gotten close enough to touch you. You’re
usually so careful that even the Pack can’t find you unless you
want them to. I’m lucky to be able to find
you—you’re like smoke. I was thinking about trying it, though,
because I wanted to make sure you’re okay.
The creature unexpectedly laid its
massive head on Connor’s leg and gave a very human-like sigh.
I don’t know what the hell’s going on. The wolf
knows her, remembers her from somewhere, but I don’t. There’s this
strange connection. The wolf knew when Jillian came to town. It
couldn’t know, but it did. It knew when she was here in the clinic,
and it knew the moment she set foot in the
forest.
Connor sat very still, his hand frozen
in the thick white ruff. James was talking to him. Not in spare and
stilted words but really talking, like . . . like a human being,
like James. It brought a tidal wave of
emotion rolling up into his throat, but he swallowed it back hard,
blinked away the moisture that sprang to his eyes. He tried to
focus on what his brother was saying, but it was damn hard. The
words didn’t quite make sense either. The wolf?
What wolf?
The wolf, my
wolf, has a goddamn mind of its own. I know how
crazy that sounds but I swear it’s acting on its
own.
“Your wolf—” Connor was stunned,
forgetting all about mind speech. For a Changeling, wolf and human
were simply different facets of the same being, the same
personality. But James had been a wolf for over three decades. Had
that skewed some internal balance, maybe made the animal side
stronger than the human? “I guess your wolf side is used to
protecting you, doing things for you. But taking over and making
decisions for you?” He suppressed a shiver. It was downright creepy
to discuss the lupine persona as if it was a separate entity. “The
wolf is still you, right? Deep down, it has to be.”
I’m not certain
anymore. Everything changed when Jillian showed up. The wolf is
obsessed with her.
“I don’t like the sound of that. First
you tell me you’re not in control of your wolf side, and then you
tell me it’s zeroed in on my new vet. And you still didn’t explain
how she got your hair all over her. Tell me your alter ego didn’t
attack her or some damn thing.”
I followed her when she
was hiking, just wanted to see who she was, why the wolf was so
aware of her. I hadn’t planned to approach her but the wolf
deliberately stepped out in front of her. It wanted
to be seen. By her.
“Good Christ, that must have scared her
to death.”
No—that’s the weird
part. Turns out that she recognizes the wolf, she knows the wolf.
She’s not afraid of it, thinks of it as a friend. Says it helped
her or something.
“And you don’t remember doing a thing
like that?”
I got this strange
flashback, just for a second, where she was a lot younger and hurt
somehow, hurt bad. But I can’t remember anything else. And the wolf
won’t tell me—
“What do you mean ‘it won’t tell you’?
Look, bro, the way you’re talking about your wolf side is really
weirding me out.”
How do you think
I feel? Like Dr. Jekyll and goddamn Hyde. Tell me
how the wolf knows things about her that I don’t. It even knew her
name, Connor. Damn wolf didn’t bother telling me
until a few days ago. And you know what else is
strange? I can hear her. I can hear her in my mind just like I can
hear you.
Connor gave a low whistle. “Holy-o
shit. That doesn’t happen very often.”
I don’t know what it
means.
“It means that in addition to being the
best damn vet I’ve seen in years, Jillian may have a few other
talents too. Telepathy is rare in humans but it’s not unheard of.
Most of them don’t even know they have it. It doesn’t necessarily
mean anything.” Connor didn’t quite believe that however. Not in
light of everything else he was hearing. He scrubbed a hand over
his face and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. What he
really wanted to do was to throw his arms around his brother, punch
him, wrestle with him, laugh, cry, and ask a million and one
questions. But it sure didn’t seem like the right time. The
situation his brother had described was too disturbing on a number
of levels. “So what are you doing here in the loft?”
Just trying to figure
out why the wolf wants to be near Jillian. Guess I’m hoping Jillian
will say something, do something that will trigger my
memory.
“And when you remember, if you remember
. . . do you think that will fix things for your
wolf?”
I don’t know. Maybe
not. At least I’ll know what the wolf has in mind, what it
wants.
“And what if you don’t agree with the
wolf? What if it can’t have whatever the hell it wants? What if it
just wants to follow Jillian around like a big dog forever and a
day? That could be dangerous for both of you.”
No! No, I won’t do
that. I won’t endanger her. The massive creature stood and
shook himself. I’ve already drawn that line, and
the wolf won’t cross it. I won’t let it.
Considering the strange conversation
they’d just had, Connor wasn’t convinced that his brother could
effectively leash his wolf nature, but resisted saying so.“Okay.
For now, we’ll play it your way. You know that my home is your
home, and Zoey feels the very same way. Likewise with the clinic.
If it helps you to come here, fine, great. But I’m trusting you to
be careful, damn careful, to stay out of sight. Understand?” Connor
glanced at his watch and swore under his breath. “Look, I don’t
want to go, but I gotta get back and treat one of my cows. She’s
been climbing through the neighbor’s wire fence to get into his
clover field and picked up some nasty scratches on her belly and
udders.”
Best get them before
they’re infected. Is it one of your Angus cattle or the little
Jersey heifer?
Connor felt a lump the size of a
basketball rise in his throat. Of course his brother had seen his
farm, observed his livestock and made note of them, even if he was
a wolf. Connor had nearly forgotten how gifted James had been as a
farmer and rancher. Their father, Ronan, had often declared that
his oldest son talked to the earth and its creatures, charmed and
persuaded them to produce uncommon quality and yield for him.
Connor knew the gift lay in James’s ability to read the land and
work with it. Whether it was crops or livestock, he understood the
needs and strengths of both and wasn’t satisfied until there was
balance and harmony. James had loved that life. Did he ever miss
it? Did he ever even think about it? Not trusting his voice, Connor
switched back to mind speech. Before I go, I’ll
throw some bales so no one will have to climb up here for a while,
but for God’s sake, keep your head down, okay?
Head down. The
wolf nosed his hand. Careful. Thanks,
bro.
Connor didn’t feel as reassured as he
would have liked, but he tossed the bales down into the livestock
area anyway. Timothy and alfalfa hay for feed, oat straw for
bedding. More than the clinic could possibly use in a month. He
climbed down after them and stacked them against a wall. “Later,
James,” he called out and got an answering yip from the loft. He
drove off to attend to the rest of his errands with a lot more on
his mind than when he’d started. His brother had spoken, really
talked to him, and the years had simply fallen away. It was James
and they were close again, as they had always been. I should be ecstatic. I should be doing cartwheels.
Instead, he felt uneasy, as if he was missing
something.
It wasn’t until Connor was driving home
that he identified the real source of the niggling disquiet he
felt—ozone.
His eyebrows shot up, and he had to
pull the truck to the side of the road for a few minutes to collect
himself. Human to wolf or wolf to human, there was always a
gathering of static electricity in the air during a Change, and
with it came a faint telltale trace of ozone. The same scent that
heralded thunderstorms, the same signature left behind by
lightning. Had the white wolf tried to Change? Succeeded? Failed?
And what did it mean? Connor didn’t know, couldn’t even guess. But
he knew what he wanted to believe, what he hoped for. If you’re trying to be human, James, don’t stop. Don’t give up.
Fight for it, fight your way back to us.
“My father and I built this operation
from nothing, did it all with our bare hands.” Roderick Harrison
never let anyone forget that, least of all his son. It was the one
thing he didn’t forget even when the Alzheimer’s was especially
bad. There were times when the old man either talked to Douglas as
if he were five years old again or mistook him for a ranch hand.
But he always knew what the Pine Point Ranch was and that it was
his.
Knowing the speech by heart, Douglas
tuned his father out and headed for the door. Old Varley, the ranch
manager, had called down from the horse barn to let him know the
Dunvegan vet was just finishing up. It was too damn bad that George
was away. Dr. George Taku of Spirit River had been looking after
their animals since Douglas was nine or ten. In fact the Harrisons
did all of their business in that community. It made sense. Their
ranch was several miles closer to the town of Spirit River but
Douglas knew full well he’d personally avoided Dunvegan since
hearing that one Connor Macleod had set up a practice there.
Admit it, Dougie. You’re afraid Macleod might
resemble the man your father killed. Afraid he’ll look at you and
know you were there, know you didn’t stop it. He slapped the
thoughts away. He didn’t know if this Macleod was even related to
that long-ago family, and even if it turned out he was, Douglas was
determined not to give in to his fears. So determined, in fact,
that he was the one who told the manager to call the North Star
Animal Hospital when one of the logging horses turned up lame. Just
being sensible, he told himself. There was no other vet within two
hundred miles, and the horse needed attention. Just plain sensible.
Although it had taken several shots of Jack Daniels to help him
make that sensible decision.
But it wasn’t Dr. Macleod kneeling
beside the horse. Instead, Douglas saw the strange woman from the
river trail, and despite his earlier determinations, an icy thread
of fear coiled through his belly. Sweat sprang at the base of his
spine, fear-sweat, although Dr. Jillian Descharme didn’t
look particularly frightening. In fact, she
appeared rather childlike at the moment. On her knees, her head
barely reached the belly of the Percheron mare whose leg she was
wrapping. But she had been searching for a white wolf when he saw
her last. For a moment he considered letting the ranch manager
handle the whole affair, but just then she turned her head and
spotted him. Was that embarrassment that made her cheeks
redden?
“Afternoon, doctor.” Douglas composed
himself and tried to remember her name. It started with
D, he thought. Something French-sounding.
Hell. “Good of you to come out on such short
notice, especially coming so far.”
“No problem. It’s my job. And I’ve got
another farm call to go to that I can catch on the way back to
Dunvegan, so it all works out.” She finished the bandage and
gathered up her materials. “Where’s Buster today?”
“In the house. We don’t let him around
the horse barn yet. He’s still a pup, doesn’t have the sense not to
nip at their feet.”
“Probably a good thing. This gal’s foot
certainly doesn’t need any more irritation. I found a rusted piece
of wire jammed into the frog of the hoof.”
“Shit. We thought it looked infected,
but we couldn’t see anything in it.”
“The swelling was hiding it. I had to
pour a stain over it to get the puncture to show up. Took me a
while to get the wire out, and then a ton of pus drained out too.”
Jillian turned to the horse, talked to it as she patted its massive
black shoulder. “What a brave girl you were. I’ll bet that foot
feels a whole lot better already, doesn’t it?” The animal nosed her
as if it agreed, and the vet turned her attention back to Douglas.
“The foot’s still hot and swollen. It needs to be soaked twice a
day, and she’ll need a course of antibiotics. I gave the
instructions to your manager.”
“That’s just fine. We’ll make sure the
instructions get followed.” He nodded. “Sheila’s a good horse, so
we sure appreciate that you came out.”
“It’s a treat to get to work on a draft
horse. There’s not many around anymore. In fact, I’m surprised at
how many horses you have.”
“You’re not from Alberta, then, are
you? There’s more horses here than anywhere in the country. We use
them.”
She looked surprised. “I thought farms
and ranches used ATVs and trucks.”
“We’ve got our share of ATVs all right,
but a quarter horse is still the best when it comes to working
cattle.” He warmed to the subject. “ATVs don’t have the
maneuverability, and they don’t have the natural cow sense, the
ability to anticipate, that a good working horse
does.”
“Does Sheila work cattle
too?”
“Nope, she has different talents. We do
selective logging on the hillsides and coulees, and we have horses
like her to pull the logs out of the brush. Heavy equipment would
just mow down half the forest.”
It was going well. They were actually
having a conversation. Maybe that whole wolf thing had been
imagination—hers, his, somebody’s. Douglas felt himself relax as he
walked the vet to her truck. She was actually kind of a pretty
thing with those green eyes. He wondered if she had a
boyfriend.
“Get away from her! Jesus God, Dougie,
you oughta know better.” Roderick Harrison was standing at the top
of the porch, a plaid flannel work-shirt flapping open over
pinstriped pajama bottoms. His feet were bare. “Get the hell away
from her. Can’t you see she’s been near one of them?”
Dammit! Where
the hell was that nurse? As his father made his way down the
stairs, Douglas turned quickly to the vet. “Please excuse my dad.
Alzheimer’s has him pretty confused these days. Just mail me the
bill, okay?”
“No problem. Birkie’ll send out an
invoice on Monday.” Dr. Descharme started the truck and leaned out
the window. “Look, let me know right away if you don’t think the
horse is improving, okay? Don’t let it go more than a day. There’s
a lot of infection in that foot.”
His reply was cut short as his father
seized his arm with unexpected strength. The old man’s voice was
shrill in his ear, reminding him anew that his father remained
taller than he was. Easy to forget that when the man was in bed
half the time. “Get back from there! Can’t you see it on her? That
goddamn werewolf has marked her as his own. It’s all over her, blue
as its demon eyes. I told you we had to kill that big white devil,
Dougie, I told you and you wouldn’t listen.”
Jesus H. Christ, not this stuff again,
thought Douglas, frantic to hush his father, to hustle him away
from the truck. But Roderick gripped Jillian’s arm as well and
leaned into her face with wild eyes. “You still got time, girl. You
still got time to run before they get you, make you into a wolf
like them. Run, you hear me? While you still got only two
legs.”
No longer interested in being gentle,
Douglas pried his father’s fingers from the vet’s arm and forcibly
wedged his body between the old man and the truck. All he could
manage was a quick glance at Jillian and a jerk of his head, but
thank God she got the message and put the truck in gear. His father
continued to yell at the vet over Douglas’s shoulder even as she
drove away. “Run! Run while you can!”