Chapter
Fourteen
Jillian sealed white hairs into sample bags. It
had taken an hour, with gloves and tweezers, to gather enough—labs
preferred to have at least fifty strands to work with—and to make
sure they were of decent quality. She’d had to view the strands
under the microscope in the lab to make certain there were roots
attached to the hairs so that DNA could be extracted.
It looked like ordinary dog hair,
ordinary everyday white dog hair. Which it probably was, she told
herself, probably fell off her clothing. After all, a collie had
been boarding in the clinic kennel that was mostly white except for
the black patches over its eyes and ears. A snowy Samoyed had come
in to have its teeth cleaned. There was no lack of sources for
white canine hair at the clinic, no lack of possible explanations
for its presence in her apartment. But not in such quantities and
not on her damn couch. She seldom sat on the couch, and although
she was hard-pressed to keep it from becoming a catchall for books
and papers, she seldom tossed her clothes there.
Thorough by nature, Jillian had already
gone through the books from the library, studied everything they
contained on wolf legend and lore. She probably would have skipped
the parts about werewolves—after all, some
things were just too farfetched—but thanks to that little incident
at the Pine Point Ranch, she read those too. She didn’t believe
anything she read, yet she felt a need to cover all
bases.
Now, however, it was time to get
serious and let science have its say. She had a few—very few—facts
to work with, but they were rock-solid. One was her firsthand
knowledge that the white wolf was a real animal (hence the hair).
However, she also believed that it wasn’t an ordinary wolf. There
were too many obvious physical and behavioral differences. It had
occurred to her that perhaps it was a brand new subspecies—and
wouldn’t it be exciting to be its discoverer?
Of course, there were other, more
mundane, possibilities. Because dogs and wolves could interbreed,
her wolf could be either an accidental or deliberate hybrid.
Canis Lupus meets Canis
Familiaris. Jillian figured it might be possible to combine,
say, the heavily muscled body and white coloration of a Great
Pyrenees with the lush coat and blue eyes of an Alaskan Malamute,
then mix them with a large breed of wolf. It might even explain the
creature’s curiously benevolent attitude, its unusual desire to
protect humans. Or at least one human, anyway.
She reminded herself of the white
wolf’s apparent benevolence frequently. Jillian was grateful that
the massive animal had saved her life years ago, was glad to have
met up with the wolf again and know that it wasn’t just a dream.
But now she was, well, nervous. “It’s all fun and games until you
find a wolf in your apartment,” she muttered.
So here she was, packaging bagged
samples into an envelope. Wolves and dogs were so closely related
that there was less than a one percent difference in their genetic
material—but there was a difference. And if
the animal was a hybrid, tests existed that would show genetic
input from a wolf, although not necessarily how much or when it had
occurred in the animal’s family tree.
Jillian stripped off her gloves and
prepared a mailing label. The samples would go out by priority mail
the next day to a lab owned by her genetics instructor from
veterinary college, Ian Craddock. She’d told Craddock that the
animal had turned up in her practice, and that she was naturally
curious due to her interest in wolves. Plausible. Sane. At least
saner than saying she’d found it in her apartment.
The DNA tests would take about six
weeks to complete. And the price of the testing would take most of
her next paycheck. As much as she needed the money for other
things—and her hopes of that really nice digital camera just
fizzled—it was well worth it if a state-of-the-art laboratory could
help her solve this puzzle. Besides, if she was going to be a
lunatic, then she was at least going to do it up
right.
For now, maybe she needed a change of
scenery. Birkie was planting some of her outdoor garden today—maybe
she could use an extra hand. Jillian knew she’d feel a lot better
just being around someone.
Immediately her thoughts jumped to
James. After the mid-hallway collision yesterday, she’d noticed
that he had finally changed his clothes. That blue denim shirt
looked great on him, even if it wasn’t done up. Okay, maybe
especially since it wasn’t done
up.
Where had he been going last night? Why
such a hurry? And why so damn rude? It was hard to conjure much
indignation, however. She was too busy wondering what might have
happened if they’d stood there, together, another moment or two.
Because she had the oddest feeling he’d been about to kiss
her.
Something inside her did a flip-flop at
the thought of kissing James. Down, girl, she chided herself. It
was just plain old-fashioned physical attraction and nothing more.
“He doesn’t even know me. I don’t know him. We don’t have a
relationship, just a very bizarre hit-and-run acquaintanceship.”
And still she wondered what it would be like to kiss
him.
“That’s enough!” Jillian pulled at her
hair with both hands. “I’m not hanging around here with my raging
hormones. I’m going to dig in the dirt at Birkie’s.” And if that
didn’t cool her thoughts about James Macleod, she could always
throw herself into Birkie’s fishpond.
The dream had long since faded, but
James couldn’t seem to wake up. Instead, he drifted slowly toward
full consciousness like a diver rising in measured stages from the
depths of some dark ocean. The wolf was there too, with him and
part of him at the same time. Despite the strange duality, James
knew he wasn’t dreaming anymore. And he found himself able to
ponder the meaning of the dream. Memory. It wasn’t
a dream, it was a memory. And if it was a memory, that meant
he had killed Jillian’s attackers. Even though he had never taken
human life before, even though it was forbidden to do so by
Changeling law, he had no regrets. Not only was he certain the men
would have preyed on others if left alive, the protection of
another Changeling or a pack member was a higher law. Protection of
a mate superseded all.
A mate. Why did
that cross his mind?
The wolf stirred within. Mate. Mine. Ours.
Not that again. Look,
hanging around with Jillian is going to put her in
danger—
Protect her. Mate.
Ours.
Stop saying that. We
need to leave her alone, do you hear me?
Alone, danger.
Together, safe. Mate. Ours.
Goddamn it, since when
do you know how to talk? I can’t believe I’m arguing
with—
James woke at last, but the wolf was
gone. At least his awareness of the wolf was gone; he could no
longer be certain that the damn wolf ever really left. Exasperated,
he rolled over and opened his eyes—and froze as he realized two
things simultaneously. One, he was in the hayloft at the animal
clinic again. And two, he was human.
He sat straight up, ran his hands over
his face, his fingers through his hair. Human. No mistake. He must
have Changed in his goddamn sleep, because he certainly hadn’t done
it on purpose. Had the dream brought it on somehow, or had the wolf
called the Change? And just how the hell had he managed to get all
the way back to the North Star Animal Hospital?
James struggled to his feet, feeling
disoriented and strange, needing to get to the window and determine
the time of day—of whatever the hell day it was—by the angle of the
sun. He leaned a hand on the window frame to steady
himself.
It was early morning, maybe six o’clock
or so at this time of year. And considering just how far he’d run
as a wolf when he’d left this place, he’d lost at least one day,
maybe two. But that was a minor concern compared to other things.
James gulped in the fresh dew-moistened air and took stock of his
impossible situation.
Connor didn’t seem to think that wolf
and human personas could separate, but for James, the evidence was
indisputable. And if Birkie was correct—and he had no doubt now
that she was—then his wolf side had indeed recognized Jillian,
sensed her, and come to her aid in the past. And now the wolf was
trying to maneuver James into complying with its current plan for
survival, a plan that centered around Jillian.
James was dead set against the idea,
yet there appeared to be limits to his choices. He could control
his human side. The wolf, however, had become a wild card and was
becoming bolder in its determination to take the lead. If James had
no control over his wolfen side, could not order it to stay away
from her, then Jillian was already in danger. Sooner or later the
presence of a white wolf would interfere with her life in any
number of ways. And such a large creature couldn’t stay hidden
forever. Eventually it would attract the attention of her fellow
humans, and from there it was only a matter of time before someone
either figured out the secret or sensed it. Birkie could discern a
Changeling as surely as she could sense rain approaching—she
couldn’t be the only person with that gift.
Mate. Mine, the
wolf had declared. But Jillian was a human woman, with human needs
and wants. What if she went out on a date, what if she fell in
love, what if she wanted to make a life with a human male? The
thought rankled, brought a deep growl to James’s throat even though
he was in human form. He feared to think of what the wolf might do
in the face of direct competition.
A mate. Even if
he wanted such a thing, he didn’t deserve it. Not after what had
happened to Evelyn. Weary in body, heart, and soul, James sank onto
a bale and dropped his head into his hands. The crushing weight of
guilt on his shoulders was as familiar as the endless litany that
echoed through his mind. Should have known there
was danger, should have been more alert, should never have left
Evelyn alone. Should have been strong enough to walk away from her
in the first place, should never have gotten involved with
her. His fault, all his fault, accusing him every time his
human awareness surfaced within the wolf. Small wonder that he’d
lived as a wolf, hunted and howled as a wolf, lived and breathed
and existed solely as a wolf.
He wished he was in lupine form now.
Being a wolf was easy. Too easy. It was certainly tempting to
submerge himself beneath the wolf persona right now and not have to
feel anything, think anything. Shit. Wasn’t
that exactly how he got into this impossible situation? He’d buried
the man deep inside the animal, so deep that now the animal was
determined to take over not only his life but Jillian’s
too.
He couldn’t allow that. Nor could he
allow Jillian to be harmed in any way. He had brought danger to
Evelyn and their unborn child, danger and death. And he would bring
the same to Jillian if he didn’t find a way to stop the wolf
within. But the only way he could think of was to remain human, and
that he could not bear.
James pounded a fist into one of the
heavy bales, knocked it flying off the top of the stack. Pounded
another until it burst. And another. His heart was going to
explode, he was going to explode. He beat
upon the heavy, hard-packed bales, dozens upon dozens of them with
all his Changeling strength, until his hands were bloody and not a
single bale was left unbroken. He fell to his knees in the midst of
the straw and howled, a long ululation from his very soul. Howled
again. And again.
But he did not Change. He dared not. He
couldn’t trust the wolf, couldn’t make it stay away from Jillian,
therefore, he would not be a wolf. He would
damn well walk out of this town—and her life—on two legs, if he
could believe for one moment that the wolf would let things be,
would give up on its quest to be near Jillian. But James knew now
that wasn’t going to happen. The first time he fell asleep, the
wolf was likely to take over and make its way right back
here.
Jesus Murphy.
Looked like he was not only stuck with being human, but stuck with
staying here.
“Fine,” he said aloud, baring his teeth
in defiance at whatever Fates insisted on screwing up his life. “If
that’s what has to happen, then fine.” He felt anything but fine
about it. Frustrated, pissed off, apprehensive and even—if he
admitted it—pretty much scared shitless at the prospect of resuming
a human life. But he wouldn’t shy away from this decision. He would
protect Jillian from the wolf and from anyone or anything else too.
At all costs.