Chapter
Thirty-two
The sun came up. It was almost a surprise,
considering the whole world had gone insane the night before. At
least her world had. Jillian hadn’t slept, but lay on her bed with
a pounding headache that had nothing to do with the fading remnants
of her concussion, and everything to do with launching herself at
Connor when he tried to put the IV into the wolf’s leg. She’d gone
in swinging, determined to save the white wolf, and suddenly
everyone was holding her; she was the one being dragged from the
room. She’d struggled and screamed until her chin connected with
someone’s elbow. She hadn’t knocked herself out, but it had stunned
her. Long enough for them to barricade the surgery door against
her.
She’d shouted and banged on the door to
no avail. She ran to her apartment and phoned Birkie but there was
no answer. She called the RCMP, the SPCA, and any other authority
in the area she could think of. It wasn’t office hours for anyone
but the police, but she knew the individuals, found their home
numbers in the phone book. Called long distance and got her old
genetics instructor, Ian Craddock, out of bed. Told them all what
her boss was doing and every one of them had the same reaction—they
laughed. Connor’s reputation was far too solid for someone like her
to shake in any kind of a hurry, especially with such a bizarre
story. If only James were here. He’d believe her. He’d make his
brother see sense too, would save the wolf.
Would have. Past tense. If he’d only
been here. Hours had gone by now.
The wolf, her wolf, the beautiful white
wolf that had saved her life and shown her such affection, that had
come to symbolize hope and all things good, had just saved her life
a second time—this time at the cost of its own. If it survived the
surgery—which was doubtful—it wouldn’t have survived the
cross-species transfusion. And there wasn’t a single blessed thing
she could do to change that. Grief welled up and spilled out, and
she cried as she hadn’t in years, cried even harder that James
wasn’t there to hold her. She had no idea where he was, only that
she needed him. Her world had been turned inside out, and the only
place it could ever make sense again was in his arms.
Where was he? She thought for sure he’d
show up in the night. Or call.
Damned if she wanted to ask any of his
family where he was. Or his friends. If what Bill had said was
meant to be some sort of weird comic relief, not only had it fallen
flat, it was in bad taste. Yet no one had said a word. Was it some
sort of strange family joke? What kind of reaction had they been
hoping for? It made no sense. They made no
sense. She thought she’d gotten to know these people a little,
thought they liked her. She had liked them a great deal, felt
affection and acceptance from them. She’d started to feel that she
could belong here. And now James was missing and his family and
friends had somehow turned on her.
There was a knock at the door.
“Jillian? Jillian, honey, can I come in?”
“Birkie!” Jillian hurried to the door,
pushed away the table and chairs she’d angrily shoved in front of
it. That hadn’t served any purpose except to retaliate in
kind—they’d blockaded her from the surgery? Fine, she’d make sure
they couldn’t get in here. Except no one had tried to get in. No
one had come at all until now. Not even
James. She nearly pulled Birkie into the room, hugged her
thoroughly, cried some more although she thought she’d
finished.
“There, there, hon, everything’s going
to be fine.”
“Oh, it’s not
fine. Nothing’s fine! The wolf is dead, my beautiful wolf. You
didn’t see what Connor was doing, you don’t know—”
Birkie patted her arm. “Your wolf is
still alive, hon. And reasonably stable too. They’ve got him
recovering in the livestock wing—”
Jillian bolted for the door. She was
prepared to take on anyone or anything that got in her way, but she
encountered no one. The doorway to the livestock wing was wide
open. The wolf had been bedded down in very human fashion, resting
on a wide mattress and covered by blankets. Jillian stopped her
headlong flight at the sight, approached slowly, almost hesitantly.
Was it real? The rise and fall of the blankets was faint, difficult
to discern. It looked like the wolf was breathing, but was that
just what she wanted to see? She knelt and listened to the animal’s
muzzle, fingered an eyelid open with her gentle but shaking hand,
and her heart caught at the sight of the familiar blue eye,
rejoiced when the pupil shrank with the sudden light. She couldn’t
help herself. She placed a hand on each side of the animal’s broad
skull, touched its forehead with her own. And sobbed out her
relief.
It was some moments before she could
sit back, several more before she caught her breath and quit
hiccupping and sniffling. She wiped her face on her shirt and
perched on the edge of the mattress, hugging her knees and rocking
a little. Peace was here. The world had gone berserk but peace was
here with the wolf, just like always. After yesterday, she wasn’t
sure where she belonged anymore. Except here, with the wolf.
Watching over him the way he had watched over her.
“So how bad is it,
bossman?”
“The glass for the back door will be
here this afternoon. The contractor says he’ll have to replace the
entire doorframe, but it’ll all be done by the end of the day so we
can lock up tonight.” Connor rested his elbows on the top rail of
the clinic corral. Sighed. “Good Christ, he kept asking what
happened to tear out the steel hinges like that. I had to lie
through my teeth and tell him a steer escaped from the livestock
wing and rammed through it.”
“Well, you could hardly tell him that
your brother went through it. But that’s not what I was asking
about. I want to know how bad things are with Jillian. Culley says
things got a little tense around here.”
“Jesus, Birkie, that’s the
understatement of the century. It was a tough surgery, an
impossible surgery. I was trying so hard to forget it was James
because I couldn’t afford the distraction. Well, I forgot all
right, and I also forgot I had a non-changeling in the room. She
thought I was trying to kill him.”
“Well, you have to give her credit for
determination. You wouldn’t believe how many phone messages you’ve
gotten this morning from agencies and people she called to try to
stop you.”
He groaned. “I have a lot of those on
my cell too. Thank God I know most of these folks. I’ll have to
call them all back eventually, although I don’t know what to say.
They already think she must have a screw loose—except her teacher,
he wanted to know what I’d done to her—and it’s not fair to her to
agree with them. But I can’t tell them the truth either.” He rubbed
his hands over his face, held them there for a minute. “God,
Birkie, I can’t believe this is happening. What are the chances of
James getting shot again? It’s even the same damn shoulder. And
Fitzpatrick took me aside this morning and told me this is the same
murdering bastard that shot James before.”
“And killed our Evelyn. Yes, Fitz came
by and told me. The son confirmed it.”
“The whole thing is just uncanny, it’s
twisted, it’s . . . it’s just damn fucking wrong, is what it
is.”
“It’s a chance for things to turn out
right this time.”
He groaned. “Fat chance of
that.”
“You’re worried for James and Jillian
both, aren’t you?”
“Christ, yes! He’s hurt bad. If he
makes it—”
“He’ll make it, Connor.” Birkie’s voice
was firm.
“You haven’t seen the damage. It’s
going to be weeks—maybe months—before he’ll be able to Change. And
what kind of hell will that be for her? Not knowing where he is.
Not hearing from him. No matter what excuse we made up, it wouldn’t
account for it. If he was called away to visit a sick aunt, I would
be too. And he could still phone. In fact, if he was in a coma in
Timbuktu and couldn’t phone, someone would still notify us and
she’d be on the next plane.”
“So what are we going to do,
bossman?”
He wiped his face on his sleeve. Sighed
heavily. “I don’t know what to do. No idea. She loves him and what
is she supposed to think except that he’s taken off? And you know
what the worst thing is? She’s pregnant. James told me yesterday,
had only just learned it himself.”
“I thought she was. Her aura’s been
different for a while now. I felt a bit guilty but there was no way
to warn her that human birth control methods are usually
ineffective against Changeling males. She still thinks James is
human.”
“Which brings us to a very human
problem. As far as Jillian knows, James went missing on the same
damn day he found out she’s expecting.” He rested his arms on the
top rail again, laid his forehead on them. “What’s that going to
look like?”
“Like he didn’t want the baby—or
her.”
“What else could she think? Never mind
the fact that she doesn’t deserve that kind of heartbreak and
stress. When he finally shows up, what’s he going to say? What’s
the damage going to be to their relationship? And what’s the damage
going to be to James if he loses their relationship?”
“You’re thinking too far ahead,
Connor.”
“Like hell I am. James loves her. I
wasn’t sure he could, wasn’t sure he’d let himself, but he
loves her. He’s happy—you’ve seen him with
Jillian.”
“He’s come a long way.”
“We all prayed that James would come
back to us, Birkie. Thirty damn years we prayed he’d come back. I’m
scared shitless he’ll go back to being a wolf and . . . and. . .
.”
“You don’t want to let him go.” Birkie
put a hand on his back as he buried his face in his
arms.
“I can’t let him go. I can’t. He’s my
brother. We only just got him back.”
“Well, there’s only one thing to do
then.”
“What?”
“We have to tell her the
truth.”
Connor laughed harshly without looking
up. “Oh, that’ll work well. Bill already tried that. And besides,
she doesn’t trust any of us, not after this, and she especially
doesn’t trust me. She won’t let me within a hundred yards of
her.”
“She trusts me.
And maybe she won’t let you near her in human form, but there’s
another option.”
“You’re kidding.” He dropped his hands
and turned to stare at her. “You must be.”
“Desperate times call for desperate
actions, hon.”
At the sound of Birkie’s voice, Jillian
sat up and ran a hand through her hair. She’d been lying down, half
on, half off the mattress, her face next to the white
wolf’s.
“I’m sorry, dear, were you
sleeping?”
“No. No, just resting.” She reached up
and accepted a hug from the older woman, scooted over so Birkie
could sit on the edge of the mattress. “I’m sorry I took off, I
just—”
“You just had to see your wolf, I
understand that.” Her friend smiled at her, patted her arm. “You
didn’t know he was still with us. Sounds like he’s a hero
too.”
“Yeah. Yeah, he saved my life. Again.”
Jillian felt herself tear up once more. Was it pregnancy hormones
that had her blubbering at the drop of a hat? She felt like she’d
cried more in two days than she had in her whole life. Sighing, she
rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, then related yesterday’s
events in the parking lot. She was thankful anew for the fact that
she could tell her friend anything. Sure, there was a very real
white wolf lying right there, but Birkie had believed her from the
beginning.
“The wolf loves you a lot, hon. He was
there for you, protected you.”
“I tried to protect him too, but
everyone got so weird. Birkie, they even threw me out of surgery!
God, I wish James had been here to help me.” Her eyes filled again,
and she swiped at them irritably. “In fact, I just don’t understand
why he’s not here now. Do you know where he is?”
Birkie took her hand, squeezed it.
“Well now, yes I do, but it’s going to take some
explaining.”
“Where—”
“Are we friends, Jillian? Do you trust
me?”
“Well, yes, of course. Did something
happen to James? Is he all right?” Her eyes widened suddenly. “He
left again, didn’t he? I told him I was pregnant and . . . and. . .
.” She couldn’t finish.
“And I’ve never seen a man so thrilled.
I am too, by the way. We all are. Of course James didn’t
leave.”
“Then where the hell is he? Look,
please stop being mysterious and just tell me straight
out.”
Birkie shook her head. “Honey, I need
to ask for your patience. I’ll tell you absolutely everything, I
promise, but I need a promise from you that you’ll hear me out,
that you’ll listen with an open mind and an open heart. Can you do
that?”
“I’m not liking this.” Jillian had
never seen her friend so serious. “But okay, I’ll
try.”
“Last night Connor was doing something
you didn’t understand.”
“Ha! Doesn’t take much understanding.
Blood’s not generic, you can’t mix species. That’s elemental enough
for a third-grader.”
“Ordinarily that’s true. If your wolf
was an ordinary wolf. But he’s not.”
Jillian frowned, put a hand on the
animal’s head. “The DNA test said he’s a wolf. I showed it to
you.”
“And exactly what kind of wolf did it
say he was?”
“Well, that was inconclusive, but he’s
still a wolf.”
“What if I told you he wasn’t? Better
yet, what if I showed you he wasn’t?” Birkie turned and whistled
softly.
Jillian was about to reply but her
voice suddenly caught in her throat. An enormous wolf had appeared
in the doorway. It filled the doorframe for a long moment, then
stepped cautiously into the room at Birkie’s beckoning
wave.
“Birkie!” she managed to whisper as she
grabbed her friend’s arm and held it tightly. “It’s as big as my
wolf. My God, there’s more than one.”
“Oh yes. Quite a few, actually. These
two are brothers.”
Jillian goggled briefly at her friend,
but had to turn her eyes back to the newcomer. It turned slightly,
and she could see the silvery pelt was marked with a blanket of
black over the shoulders—a saddleback pattern that was rare in
wolves. Birkie extended a hand to it, and the huge creature trotted
over immediately to lie at their feet. Jillian swallowed hard,
opened her mouth to speak, closed it again.
“Here, you can pet him if you want to.
He’s mostly tame.” Birkie rubbed the dark wolf behind the
ears.
Jillian reached over to offer a hand to
the handsome creature when she got a good look at its eyes. They
weren’t green but gray. Pale gray. For an instant she felt she was
on the verge of remembering something. Then whatever it was eluded
her, leaving her strangely disappointed. “He has really unusual
eyes for a wolf,” she managed.
“Yes, he does. So does your wolf,
doesn’t he?”
“Well, yes. It’s one of the things that
I can’t explain. Wolves don’t have blue eyes. Yellow eyes, brown,
sometimes green. But not blue. And not gray either. It’s like a
whole new subspecies.” The wolf touched its nose to Jillian’s hand,
licked her fingers, then bumped its head under them to be petted.
“He seems to be just as friendly as my wolf, too.” She sighed,
shook off her fascination with the new animal and turned to her
friend. “This is one hell of a secret you’ve been keeping. Why? Why
didn’t you tell me about this? After everything I confided in you
about the white wolf, you couldn’t mention you already knew about
him, that you had a wolf, too?”
“Oh, he’s not my wolf, hon, he’s a
friend. They’re both good friends. And because of that, I wasn’t
free to tell you about them. I told you once that I keep
confidences and I do.” Birkie spoke to the dark wolf then. “I think
you’d better show her now.”
The wolf rose and trotted a few yards
away.
“What does this have to do with James?
Where is he?” Suddenly Jillian’s scalp prickled strangely. She
touched her hair and was surprised to find it standing straight up.
She ran a hand through it, felt it crackle and snap with static.
“What the—” She looked at Birkie. Her friend’s hair was always
perfectly styled, but there were stray hairs unwinding themselves
now, and all of them were drifting upward.
A cold draft gusted through the room,
and a shiver ran through Jillian from neck to tailbone. She glanced
around for the source but the windows were closed and only a
hallway lay beyond the door. The loft door was high above and
behind her, but the breeze wasn’t coming from there. It was coming
from—
The dark wolf. Tiny bits of straw and
hay were eddying around the floor, slowly at first, then faster.
They swirled about the wolf, and blue sparks snapped and popped in
the air. I’ve seen all this before. But that
was—
Without any warning, the big animal was
gone and in its place stood Connor Macleod. He looked just as he
usually did, with his denim shirt and torn jeans, and his hands
resting in the pockets of a rumpled lab coat. The breeze died away.
A few blue sparks crackled in the air, fell to the concrete and
went out.
Stunned, Jillian felt as if her brain
had winked out as well, as if a fuse had blown. Her mind was blank
for a long moment, then it was suddenly bombarded with an avalanche
of thoughts and ideas, all coming together at once. Bill’s words.
The vision in the loft. The wolf in her apartment. The stories she
had read, the legends she had studied. Brothers, Birkie had said, the dark wolf and the white
wolf. Gray eyes—and blue.
She put her hands to her head, held on
tight as it threatened to explode. Then the thoughts converged,
neatly, like streams feeding into a river. They merged, melded,
flowed smoothly and effortlessly into a whole. Jillian put her
hands down, drew a deep breath. Another. Put her shaking hand on
the white wolf’s broad forehead, stroked it gently, let calmness
and peace fill her until she was steady and could open her
eyes.
“Are you okay?” It was Connor. Birkie
was looking at her, too.
“Is that a trick question? A wolf just
turned into my boss right in front of me, my boyfriend turns out to
be a wolf I’ve known for years, and I’m supposed to be okay?”
Jillian laughed a little, ran her hand through her hair. “Actually,
a lot of things make sense now, and that’s what scares me. It’s a
good thing to be worried about being crazy, though, isn’t it? Like
if you think you might be insane, you’re really not?”
“You’re not crazy, not at all.” Birkie
slid an arm around her and squeezed. “In fact, you’re doing just
great, honey. Give yourself some time. It’s a lot to take in, a lot
to get used to.”
Jillian shook her head in wonder. “Oh
God, it feels like I woke up on another planet. A few moments ago,
werewolves lived only in movies and books. Now they’re real. And I
can barely believe I said that.” She looked up at Connor. “You were
using Devlin’s blood last night because he’s a werewolf, too, isn’t
he?”
“A Changeling, yes. Our whole family.
Bill and Jessie. Fitzpatrick. A few others.”
“Fitzpatrick? Sergeant Fitzpatrick?
You’re telling me that the head of our local RCMP detachment is a
werewolf?” Although why that should be any more shocking than the
rest, she didn’t know.
“Changeling,” Connor corrected. “Yes,
Fitz is a Changeling just like the rest of us.”
“Changeling.” She tried out the word.
“Well, at least it sounds a little less Hollywood than werewolf.” Jillian turned to Birkie then. “Is everyone
in town a Changeling? Are you a Changeling too?”
Birkie smiled and shook her
head.
“Well, that’s a relief. I was starting
to feel like the only human left.” Jillian looked down at the wolf
as she stroked its ears. The blanket was rising and falling
steadily now; she didn’t have to strain to see if he was breathing.
He. The wolf. James. Cold fear abruptly
squeezed her heart. “I think . . . I think I’d rather believe that
James left me than believe that he’s lying here hurt like this. Is
he going to be okay?”
“I can’t promise anything,” said
Connor. He checked the white wolf’s vitals, then laid a hand on her
shoulder. “I wish I could, but you’re a vet. You saw the damage for
yourself, and you can guess that James isn’t out of the woods yet.
Ask me again in forty-eight hours, ask me when he wakes up. He’s
stable right now; we’re all hoping and praying he stays that
way.”
He was right. As a vet, it was exactly
the prognosis she’d give, but it still hit her hard. The wolf could
die, and she’d already shed plenty of tears at the thought of
losing her lupine friend. But to never see James again . . .
Dear God. She shoved the terrifying thoughts
to the back of her mind, slammed the door on them tight. Tried to
focus outside herself. Thought about Connor—what had it been like
to have to operate on a family member?
A family member.
Jillian thought of the others who had been in the operating room,
and realized she wasn’t the only one scared to death.