Chapter
Twenty
Connor held a newspaper in his hands, but his
eyes weren’t scanning the print. Instead they looked out over the
page, as they had most of the day, studying everything within a
block in either direction of the Dunvegan Herald
Weekly, watching for the slightest sign that anything was
amiss. Seeing nothing. Still, there was a gnawing in his gut that
said something was wrong.
Hell, wasn’t everything wrong? A rogue
Changeling had started killing people and the Pack couldn’t seem to
find the bastard. His long-awaited mate was right there inside the
newspaper building yet he was out here with his pickup truck
doubling as a proverbial doghouse. It hadn’t been boring, however.
That damn reporter, Helfren, had made several appearances
throughout the day. Mailing a letter. Drinking coffee. Window
shopping. And every time, he was watching the office of the
Dunvegan Herald Weekly just as intently as
Connor was. A fact that made it difficult for Connor to resist
cleaning the guy’s clock. Especially when the vet had more than
mere human impulses to resist. Deep within him, his inner wolf was
growling long and low.
Luckily, Culley had been on the job.
Connor had spotted him shadowing the reporter so cleverly that
Helfren never noticed he was being tailed. Of course, Culley added
his own flourishes to the task. Connor couldn’t help enjoying it
when a monstrous black dog knocked the reporter over by running
between his legs. The huge animal had vanished before Helfren could
regain his feet—but Lucinda Perkins and several members of the
Dunvegan Neighborhood Patrol had rushed to help him. And stayed to
grill him.
With Helfren under such close
surveillance, Connor was free to watch the street, the alley, and
the back and front entrances to the newspaper office. The
Herald would be closing soon. Bernie could
be anywhere, and he was just crazy enough to make a move on Zoey in
broad daylight.
Connor turned a page of his newspaper
as he glanced at his side view mirror. Culley and Bill were
approaching the truck.
“I’m not in the mood for company,”
warned Connor as his brother slid smoothly into the passenger seat
beside him. Bill, too, ignored Connor’s comment. The red-haired
giant simply passed a steaming cup of coffee forward as he crammed
himself into the rear seat of the pickup. Connor took the cup
without looking, keeping his eyes on the newspaper building. The
staff had started filing out at last. But the woman he most wanted
to see hadn’t yet emerged.
“So you and Zoey had a falling out?”
asked Culley.
“How the hell would you know
that?”
“Only that I found the North Star
Animal Hospital shut down on a weekday with a cheery sign on the
door for folks to take their emergencies elsewhere.”
“Maybe I’m busy.”
“Maybe you’re miserable. I could feel
the vibes from four blocks away. So since nothing else was likely
to pull you two apart, I’m guessing you must have told her about
your secret identity.”
There was no point in denying it.
Culley was a prankster and often impulsive, but he was also smart
and perceptive. And Bill, who was sitting silent in the backseat,
was the best friend a guy could hope to have. Connor sighed. “Yeah,
I told her what I was, and then I told her what she’s going to
become.”
Culley whistled long and low. “Christ,
you gave it to her with both barrels?”
“Do you think I wanted to dump it on
her like that? There are only sixteen days before the full moon.
Just sixteen, Culley. I didn’t have the luxury of breaking it to
her gently.”
“Maybe not, but how the hell are you
going to prepare her to be a Changeling if she’s not speaking to
you?”
Connor glared at his brother. “Why
aren’t you watching Helfren?”
“He got a sudden call from his buddies
at Fish and Wildlife. Seems they found wolf prints all around their
truck while it was parked outside their office.”
“You didn’t—”
“Hey, it was time to create a
distraction. Because we’ve got news, bro.”
“What news?” Connor watched Ted Biegel
leave the office and stop to talk to someone on the street. Still
no sign of Zoey.
Bill leaned his beefy arms on the back
of the seat between the brothers. “Fitz called Jessie an hour
ago—he looked at the body and it’s plain that Bernie drank from the
kill.”
“What?” The newspaper slid from
Connor’s fingers as the words sank in. Pack law forbade the harming
of humans. Bad enough that Bernie had killed, but drinking human
blood complicated everything. It was said to bring incredible power
to the renegade who indulged in it—and complete madness.
Goddammit! He pounded on the steering wheel.
“Goddammit to hell!”
“Now we know why Bernie was able to
outrun us the night of the barbecue,” said Culley. “It finally
makes sense. And the bastard’s stronger and faster than ever now,
maybe stronger than any of us.”
“The night of—but Menzie hadn’t been
killed yet! Bernie pulled away from us like he was on wheels.”
Puzzle pieces fell rapidly into place in Connor’s
mind.
Bill said it first. “We figure Menzie
couldn’t have been Bernie’s first victim. He’s killed before. He
must have been a lot more careful; maybe he hadn’t gone starkers
yet and that’s why no one found the bodies, but he’s killed
before.”
“Good Christ, I should have stopped
him,” said Connor. “I could have stopped Bernie long ago, if only
I’d—”
“If only you’d had a crystal ball?
Don’t even go there.” said Culley firmly, reading his brother’s
face. “You’ve got the gift of farsight but
it doesn’t tell you everything. You had no way of knowing what the
old bastard was going to do.”
“I knew he’d killed livestock. I knew
he was getting out of control.”
“As far as anyone knew, Zoey was the
first human to be attacked. And you took action on it
pronto.”
“Some action. I injected the bastard
with fucking water.”
“Fine,” said Culley. “If you want to
beat yourself up, go ahead. But at least save your energy and wait
until we’ve dealt with Bernie.”
Connor’s eyes hardened, the pale gray
going storm dark. He’d deal with Bernie all right. Personally.
“It’s up to the Pack to deal with him,”
Bill said, picking up Connor’s vibes immediately. “Not any one
Changeling. And knowing the rotter’s been supercharged, no one
should make the mistake of approaching him alone. It’s a right good
thing that Fitz warned us or one of us might have gotten killed as
well.”
Connor could hear the sense in his
friend’s words, but it didn’t change the way he felt. Or what he
would do if he caught Bernie’s trail. But he could agree about
Fitzpatrick. Every member of the Pack felt lucky to have a
Changeling heading the police detachment. It added another layer of
security to their secret lives, but even Fitz wouldn’t be able to
help them if Bernie wasn’t stopped soon. “Any clues?”
“Nope,” said Culley. “We searched the
area all day for a trail, couldn’t get even a hint of one. Jessie
and Devlin are still out there, but they won’t be for
long.”
“Oh?”
Bill put his hand on Connor’s shoulder.
“Jessie’s put the word out not to Change unless you have to, mate.
There’s been a swack of cops and volunteers beating the bushes with
guns since noon, looking for something to shoot. There were wolf
prints by the body. Big ones.”
Connor swore. “People are scared
then.”
“Terrified is more like it. Fish and
Wildlife called in a helicopter to search the area.” The big man’s
voice was quiet, subdued. “They didn’t take tranquilizer guns,
mate. Devlin was at the airstrip, tinkering on his plane when he
saw them loading the rifles.”
“If we don’t Change, it’s going to make
it a lot harder to hunt down Bernie, and until we do, the killing’s
not going to stop.”
“The bastard’s right off the deep end,
that’s sure. I see you’re prepared though.”
Connor caught Bill’s eye in the
rearview mirror, saw his friend look down at the floor where the
.375 lay amid empty bottles of cattle vaccine.
“Absolutely.”
Culley glanced into the backseat. His
eyebrows went up but he didn’t mention the rifle. “So, about Zoey.
Is she okay?”
“As fine as can be expected. She’s been
at work most of the day.” Connor snorted. “Now ask me how
I am. I just got a goddamn text message from
her suggesting the name of a psychiatrist who specializes in
lycanthropy.”
“They have shrinks for werewolves?”
asked Culley.
“No, they have shrinks for people who
think they’re werewolves.”
“Oh. Well, shit.”
Bill shook his head. “Let me guess. She
thought you were lying, trying to play mind games with her. Then
she figured out you were sincere and concluded you were just plain
loopy.”
Connor picked up the coffee and gulped
it quickly without checking its temperature. He didn’t care if he
scalded his throat or not. The pain helped offset the ache in his
heart. “That about sums it up.” He looked back at Bill suddenly.
“How did you know?”
“Come on, mate, I was new to this game
once too. When Jessie told me what she was, I just laughed—thought
it was a big joke. Then she wouldn’t let it go. I told her it warnt
funny no more and when she kept it up, I got plenty mad. Figured
she was making up some elaborate story so she could dump me.” The
big man shook his head, remembering. “Then I felt sorry for her,
her being so deluded and all.”
“So how did you get past it? How did
Jessie convince you?”
“She Changed. Right there in my motel
room.” Bill grinned at his friend. “Of course, I went more than a
little crazy at first, mind you. Fainted dead away—and don’t you
ever tell no one that, mate! You either, Culley, or I’ll have to
kill you. Anyway, when I came to, Jessie was still a wolf, just
lying there waiting for me to wake up. And then she played with
me.”
“She what?”
“Played. You know, like a big dog, all
puppy-like and cute until I wasn’t afraid no more. And then she
Changed back. I can’t say as I was able to take it all in at once,
but she kept Changing every time she was with me until I got used
to it.”
Like a big dog.
Connor turned it over in his mind, remembering Culley’s goofy dog
act in the clinic office. The idea had possibilities—if Zoey was
ever willing to let him within a mile of her. Suddenly he saw her
shapely figure slip out the back door of the Dunvegan Herald Weekly. The sweep of her russet hair
caught the fading light of the sun and his heart flared painfully
within him, a burning ache that crept into his throat.
Mercifully, Culley and Bill were silent
as they got out of the truck and disappeared into a nearby store.
Connor watched as Zoey tossed her camera bag and an armload of
papers into her old Bronco and drove off. Putting his own vehicle
into gear, he followed.
Attending a municipal budget meeting
wasn’t on Zoey Tyler’s list of Ten Favorite Things
to Do on a Monday Night. Or any other night for that matter.
As editor, she could have assigned one of the other reporters to
cover the event, to write up the article explaining the rationale
for the tax increases scheduled to be announced tonight. With the
growing migraine sending sharp knives of pain in through her right
eye and out through the back of her head, she should have assigned someone else. But her publisher had
other ideas.
“The RCMP announced they’re going to
share what they know about Menzie with the mayor and her council
tonight. I want a professional on this story, Tyler, and that means
you. I need someone I can trust to keep a lid on the speculation.
This newspaper reports facts, not fantasy.”
She hadn’t needed to ask what he meant.
Ted Biegel had made it his mission in life to protect the town from
three things—the installation of parking meters, Sunday shopping,
and most of all, rumors of werewolves. Notwithstanding the fact
that those rumors were already flying thick and fast.
Despite the undercurrent of
anticipation regarding what the police might say when they arrived,
the meeting started like any other. The village secretary, Floyd
Melnick, read off the minutes of the last meeting. Mayor Jenny
Galloway called for approval of the agenda. The evening droned on.
Zoey rubbed her head and tried to remember exactly when she could
take another dose of painkillers. It was hard to focus her
attention on the meeting. Heck, it was hard to focus her
eyeballs. Nausea was starting to roil in her
stomach from the migraine and she gritted her teeth, determined to
hold on.
The council was debating the cost of
snow removal and whether global warming would preclude purchasing a
new plow before next winter when Sergeant Fitzpatrick finally
entered the room. Dr. Lowen Miller was with him. Zoey was thankful
when the mayor immediately cut off the discussion and invited the
men to take the floor.
“We won’t take up much of your time,”
said Fitzpatrick, a sheaf of papers in his hand. “You’ve asked for
a report on the incident at the Menzie farm. You know the basics
already. Twenty-three cattle killed, and the owner, Allan Ralph
Menzie, found dead at the scene. You all know Lowen here. He’s the
acting coroner, and I’ll let him give you the details.” He stepped
back to give the doctor the podium.
Lowen barely glanced at the audience,
electing to simply cut to the chase. “The man’s death was not due
to natural causes. He didn’t die of old age or a heart attack. He
didn’t shoot himself accidentally or on purpose. He was killed by a
large animal, and I believe it’s the same animal that killed his
cows.” The doctor folded his arms as if bracing for questions. They
weren’t long in coming.
“What kind of animal?” asked the mayor.
“Somebody said it was a grizzly.”
“No one’s seen a griz around here in
years. We have mostly black bears,” argued Elva
Peters.
Lowen shook his head. “I don’t believe
it was a bear. I’ve seen the results of bear attacks and there are
no claw marks on the body. The predator went straight for the
throat with its teeth. That’s not bear behavior either. We’ve ruled
out a cougar as well. Again, no claw marks. Plus, a big cat
typically attacks from above or behind, ambush-style. Allan Menzie
was facing his attacker.”
“What the hell does that leave?”
demanded Melnick, forgetting completely that he wasn’t a councilor
and technically was not permitted to speak.
Fitzpatrick exchanged a glance with
Lowen and took the podium again, his face grim. “We’ve got samples
of hair, tooth marks on bone plus photos of tracks that were found
near the body, all pointing to a single animal. It’s been suggested
that the killer might be an extremely large and vicious dog, and
all the evidence indicates that we’re dealing with a wolf or a
wolf-dog hybrid.”
Zoey gripped the edge of the table as
the council chamber erupted with loud protests, arguments, and
questions. The noise was excruciating, almost as if her brain were
trying to escape from her head. Perspiration beaded on her
forehead, ran down her back. She hadn’t noticed the heat when she
came in, yet it was sauna-like now. Then a shiver ran through her
and she was instantly chilled. Her gut cramped hard. Am I coming down with something? Please God, not the flu.
Anything but that. Her notes swam in front of her and the
air seemed thick and hard to breathe. She
had to get out, had to go home, but her legs wouldn’t obey the
order to stand.
From his truck parked directly behind
Zoey’s old red Bronco, Connor had staked out the village office
building for the past hour, until the sense of something wrong that had dogged him all day suddenly
began screaming at him. His inner wolf clawed at his insides,
wanting out, wanting to get to Zoey, but the effects of the charm
hadn’t worn off yet. Instead, Connor leapt from the truck on two
legs, racing into the building and up the stairs to the council
chamber.
He didn’t need Changeling senses to
hear the muffled commotion on the other side of the heavy double
doors. Cautiously, he pulled one door open. The wall of noise hit
him first. Everyone in the place seemed to be on their feet,
arguing. Except Zoey. He finally spotted her sitting alone in the
far corner at a desk reserved for members of the media. Her head
was in her hands and she didn’t look up, but every other eye in the
place was fastened on him. So much for trying to
sneak in.
“Dr. Macleod, I’m relieved to see you!
Maybe you can help us make sense of this
situation,” said the mayor. She waved a dismissive hand at Lowen
and Fitz, who were standing their ground grimly in the midst of the
melee. “These men are claiming there’s a killer wolf out there.”
Her angry tone said it all. She didn’t believe it. She didn’t
want to believe it.
The president of the Chamber of
Commerce piped up. “I will not have this nonsense starting up
again. Local retailers are having a hard enough time without
somebody crying wolf. It’s bad for business.”
“For heaven’s sake, Brady, those
werewolf stories a few years ago brought a ton of people to town,”
declared another man, the utilities manager. “They all had to eat,
buy gas, and rent a motel. Maybe it’s exactly what we need to boost
the economy around here.”
Connor exchanged glances with Lowen and
Fitz, glad he wasn’t in their shoes and not keen to try them on.
Something was terribly wrong in this room and he couldn’t see it.
He scanned the furious faces, but no one was even looking at Zoey.
All of the anger and outrage was being directed at Lowen and Fitz.
But all the attention was squarely on him.
He took a deep breath. “I didn’t come
here to take part in this discussion, but I will say that these men
are experienced professionals and Dunvegan is damn lucky to have
them. Fitzpatrick worked homicide for twenty-two years in three
cities, and I shouldn’t need to remind you that Miller is one of
the most respected doctors in the country in the field of
forensics. So if they say there’s a wolf out
there killing people, I’d start figuring out what to do to protect
people instead of complaining because it’s not what I wanted to
hear. That’s all I’m saying.”
There was shocked silence for a moment,
then an eruption of indignant comments, which Connor ignored as he
made his way around the room to the news desk. “Zoey,” he whispered
fiercely. “Zoey, are you all right?”
There was no response. She continued to
look down at her notepad, holding her head in her hands. Connor
searched for words. “Look, I know you’re pissed off at me and maybe
you don’t feel like talking to me, but I just need to know—” He
felt it then. Electricity hovered in the air around her, invisible
but building fast.
Quickly Connor sat on the edge of the
table, shielding Zoey from view as he yanked her hands from her
face. Powerful static looped and crackled around his fingers. She
blinked up at him in surprise. Her eyes sparked with green
fire.
God in heaven.
“Honey, we need to get you out of here, okay?” he whispered, his
heart in his throat. In case anyone was watching—although everyone
seemed to have returned to arguing among themselves—he felt her
forehead and her cheeks. She was burning up and cold at the same
time, but it was no fever. Connor was about to ask if she could
walk, but quickly decided appearances just didn’t matter at the
moment. He scooped her up in his arms and walked out with her.
“Flu,” he said as loudly as he could to Lowen as he passed. He
lowered his voice however—and no one but a Changeling would hear
him above the raised voices in the room—and said to Fitz,
“Lupine flu. I’ll be at the clinic. Bring
the doc.”
He was confident that Fitz and Lowen
would cover his exit. They’d extricate themselves and come to the
clinic as quickly as they could, although he doubted either could
do much to help in this situation.
Connor didn’t know what he was going to
do either. The clinic was the only safe place he could think of to
go in a hurry. It was close by, yet isolated at the edge of the
village industrial park, surrounded by corrals and sheds. Zoey’s
apartment was not an option. If Zoey Changed, there would be pain.
A lot of it. He winced as he remembered the screams of that
frightened teenager in the woods. . . .
Zoey was curled in a shuddering ball on
the seat of the truck beside him. Pale beyond pale. Static energy
lifted wisps of her russet hair, made it dance and float. Her eyes
were glassy, unseeing. Connor drove with one hand while he gripped
hers in the other. “Stay with me, honey. Hang tough for just a few
minutes, okay?” Dammit, wake up, wake
up, you can’t do this! He hit the remote on
the dashboard and drove inside the back bay of the North Star
Animal Hospital.
There was no time for gentleness. He
carried her straight to the shower in the back of his office and
shoved her inside. Turned the cold water on full blast. He held her
there for a moment, then gritted his teeth and stood under it too,
holding her to him. Holding her up. “Come back to me, Zoey. Can you
hear me?” Look at me. Listen to me, just to me. The
wolf is calling you but listen to me instead. Listen to your mate. Come back now. There was
no response except for a soft moan. “Don’t do this, honey, you’re
not ready for this yet. For God’s sake, wake up!” Her eyes were
closed but he didn’t need to see the green glimmer in their depths
to know that the Change had not retreated. The wolf in him could
feel it.
Connor had never known such fear. There
was no way for Zoey to successfully Change, not now, not so soon.
The Change required vast amounts of energy, both from the body and
from the elements. Connor was practiced enough to draw it from the
air if need be. With some coaching, a new Changeling was able to
draw from the ground where the energy was most easily available.
But Zoey hadn’t had any instruction at all. Nor could he hope to
teach her now. She was long past even being able to hear him, never
mind understand what he was telling her.
Christ. She
didn’t even know what was happening to her. If he didn’t find a way
to stop this, she would never even know what killed her. Because
Changing unprepared was almost always a death sentence. There was
no being “stuck” partway between human and wolf like in a bad
movie. Just death—pure, simple, and final.
Zoey’s body was limp beneath the icy
shower spray, her skin nearly transparent. Connor shook her
fiercely, calling to her both aloud and in her mind, aware that
time was rapidly running out. Again and again he reached out with
all the psychic power he could bring to bear. Finally, he slapped
her. For a flicker of an instant he felt her try to respond, then
her awareness slid away again. “I won’t let you go! Zoey!” He
slapped her face again, much harder this time, willing her with everything he had to come back to him.
He waited in agony.
Suddenly she gasped for air like a
drowning swimmer. Her eyes opened wide and she held up a hand to
fend off the spray of freezing water. “Goddammit, Connor! What the
hell are you doing!” She sputtered and choked and cursed him, but
it was music to his ears. The hellish green light had disappeared
from her amber eyes, replaced by pure feminine fury.
Outrageous relief flooded his senses
and jellied his knees. Connor gave up trying to stand. Instead, he
opted to simply slide to the shower floor with Zoey clutched
tightly in his lap. With one hand he reached up to turn on the hot
faucet and let the water warm their shivering bodies.