Nightshifter

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Nightshifter Page 18

by L. E. Horn


  “Cass is not going anywhere near this,” thundered Matt, his brows drawing down.

  “Not until she gets more experience, anyway,” Chris agreed. “These wulfleng are fierce fighters. They’ve had training.”

  Sam subsided but her eyes flashed fire. Were she and her sister anything alike? Not sure the world is ready for two of them. Then I noticed Sam’s gaze narrow.

  “You know,” she said, “I only saw Dillon briefly when you guys pulled his body out of the water. I was kinda busy . . .” Her eyes slid over me and I realized “busy” was looking after my unconscious self. “But he was damned big. As big as those wulfleng we tackled back home.”

  Chris’s brows rose and he exchanged a glance with Matt. “Dillon was a big guy, but his wulf was huge.”

  Matt nodded. “As big as the ones in Brandon, and they were bigger than I’ve ever seen. With oversized teeth and claws. Dillon looked a lot like them.” He stared at Chris. “And someone took Dillon’s body.”

  I turned to frown at Chris. “What are you saying? Someone’s recruiting Sasquatches?” I tried to imagine how that would go down. Excuse me, but you’re a big guy, wanna be a wulf? “And how is Chloe connected? I thought she infected Dillon?”

  Chris sucked on his teeth. “If we’re right, someone else gave Dillon the virus.”

  Chloe had lied about her brother biting Dillon. She might have lied about other things too. Like maybe Dillon already had the virus when he arrived at her college. But if that was the case, why not say so? Unless . . .they were running away from more than the Texas enforcers.

  Sam was trying to work things through, too. “Were the ones who infected the humans the same ones who came for the bodies?”

  Good question.

  “Could someone else be cleaning up?” Chris asked.

  Man, if there are two shadow organizations out there, we’ll never sort this out. How had they known where to find their bodies? Unless . . .

  “Someone planted a tracker on Dillon,” Chris said, as if reading my mind. Or more likely, our thoughts galloped along similar paths. His mouth was straightened in a grim line, as he exchanged a long look with Matt.

  “But why take Chloe as well?” Sam shook her head slowly.

  We all contemplated that in silence. Whoever these people were, their agenda remained unknown. All we knew was that they were well organized. Seriously organized.

  “Are all uprisings like this?” I asked.

  “No.” Matt answered, his expression lined with fatigue. “This one’s different.”

  Well, that’s not scary at all. I glanced at Chris, who rubbed a hand over his face. I noticed fine silver lines across the back of it. It seemed the more I looked at Chris the more I saw his scars.

  “I can give you a few days,” he said to Matt. “You leaving right away?”

  Matt nodded. “Yeah. We’ll need a ride. Mike took the helicopter back yesterday.”

  Chris exchanged a glance with Josh. “I’ll just grab my bag.” He disappeared down the hall, and Josh followed.

  Peter stood at the end of the table, his mouth in a hard line. He pinned Matt with his gaze. “You find out who did this. It’s them who killed Chloe, not Josh.”

  Matt stood and placed his big hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We will. I promise you.”

  Peter nodded and together they grabbed the last plates from the table, heading for the sink. Keen appeared, bone firmly clamped in her mouth. Apparently, Chris’s bed would be bone free for the night. She walked to the back door, looking over her shoulder at me. I want to bury this, please.

  I went to let her out and stepped into the warm morning sun, admiring Josh’s gardens. Keen immediately started searching the soft earth for the right spot, and I watched to make sure she didn’t uproot anything.

  A soft step behind me made me turn. “Are you seeing Fang next week?”

  I looked down to meet Sam’s bright gaze. Her question took me aback, not that she knew about Fang—I’d told her about him—but that I hadn’t even thought about my return to work. Life as a vet seemed so far away. For the last two weeks, my future as a walking, breathing entity had been in doubt, never mind my career treating animals.

  “Yeah,” I said, realizing she waited for an answer. She’d be heading for Brandon as soon as Chris got ready. Unsure of my feelings about this, I consulted with my inner wulf. With a rush of something dangerously akin to desire, I recognized I didn’t want her to go. But I also lacked a reason for her to stay.

  Her shrewd pale eyes searched my face and perhaps detected my angst. “Give me your phone.”

  “My phone?”

  “Yes. Little black thing, about so big. You talk into it.” She sketched a small rectangular shape with her hands.

  I snorted and dug it out of my pocket, unlocking it. She snatched it from my hand and tapped on it, the tip of her pink tongue appearing at the corner of her mouth. The sight did something odd to my pulse, and I couldn’t rip my eyes away.

  Oh, boy. Houston, we have a problem.

  After a few moments, the tongue tip disappeared into a broad grin, and she handed me the phone.

  “What did you do?” The phone’s primary purpose was for the clinic to get hold of me, particularly when I was on call.

  “I’m now officially a presence on your phone.”

  According to my thudding heart, she might be much more. Does she have anyone—a boyfriend—in Brandon? I groped for a subtle way to ask.

  She flashed a grin, showing white teeth. “When I get lonely—and I’m lonely a lot—I’ll give you a shout.”

  Okay, did that mean what I thought it did? Truth was, I didn’t always have my phone turned on.

  “I’d like that,” I stammered, deciding that it would spend a lot more time live.

  Matt appeared at the door, with Chris behind him.

  Sam hesitated as they headed down the sidewalk to the vehicles. She looked at me, tilting her head, a corner of her mouth quirking up.

  “Keep in touch, soldier.”

  * * *

  I stepped out of my SUV and four pairs of long ears swiveled in my direction. Being back at work after the craziness of the last few weeks was both jarring and reassuring. Visiting my regulars grounded me. My life may have taken a strange turn, but the world kept revolving as usual.

  “Stay,” I said to Keen. Although excited to be on farm calls with me, she didn’t argue. She’d met Walter’s donkeys.

  His donkeys were in demand throughout Manitoba. As Mammoths, they were the largest of their kind and therefore able to discourage coyotes and even wolves, if the pack wasn’t large and determined. Or not real wolves.

  Walter himself met me at the gate, surrounded by donkey doe eyes soft with affection, watching me with curiosity. His jennies, or females, had sweet temperaments. On my last trip out here, the girls had sensed my inner predator. They’d approached with flattened ears and suspicious eyes, and Walter had been forced to shut them away while I worked.

  Today, they regarded me with care as they snuffled me. Chris, in his ever-efficient teacher role, had spent the last couple of days before the full moon instructing me how to keep the wulf hidden from the animal world. I sighed with relief when the large ears came forward and they nudged me with interest, not hostility.

  Walter’s jack donkey was another matter. His registered name was Holloway’s Dark Magic, and Walter called him Magic. His owner would likely not be surprised that everyone else referred to him as Fang.

  I nodded to another man waiting for us outside the barn. “Darren.”

  “Liam,” he said with a smile. “I’m right glad you’re back. Did you have a good holiday?”

  I considered everything that had happened to me over my hiatus. “Yes, it was fine, thank you.” Didn’t get a tan but picked up some wicked big teeth.

  He didn’t comment on my teeth, but he noticed other changes. “You shaved your hair. Looks good—but have you been working out?”

  “Yeah, a bit.” Bec
ause of the scalp wound, I’d been forced to clip most of my hair short to match the patch shaved around the now-healed injury. And my coveralls fit much tighter across the shoulders than they used to.

  Darren was a local farrier and had the unenviable job of trimming the donkey’s feet. Fang’s endocrine disorder caused him significant foot issues. To help his hooves regain normal function, he required a pedicure every week. As Fang possessed a general disdain for everyone except Walter—and sometimes even him—working on any part of him presented a certain element of danger. Hence the nickname.

  To keep Darren’s skin intact, Walter arranged for a vet to tranquilize Fang whenever he needed his feet done. We couldn’t do a heavy dose of sedative, since Darren needed to lift the hooves to trim them, but I had perfected the procedure over time.

  Only with Fang would giving a needle be referred to as a “procedure.”

  The donkey in question currently resided in the barn where Walter had him tied in the aisle. As Walter opened the door, my phone sang a few bars of “Demons” by Imagine Dragons. I paused, holding a finger up to Walter.

  “Do you mind?” I asked him.

  “Of course not.” His expression indicated curiosity, not annoyance. I was relieved, having not yet hashed out my text-at-work protocols. But letting this call pass me by would have been more difficult than I liked to admit.

  Sam’s few seconds with my phone had resulted in a personalized ringtone, along with an intriguing choice in music. I guessed we all had demons, some just had bigger teeth than others.

  Lost any important bits yet? she texted.

  I grinned. My mind conjured up a vivid image of her smile and the mischievous glint in her eye. It pleased me that she’d remembered the itinerary for my first day back. Texting did not stop me from babbling like an idiot.

  I tapped with my thumb. Nothing you’d miss.

  Don’t be so sure.

  Before I met Sam, I hardly used my phone. My job required my full attention and both hands, so my cell was usually shoved into my bag. Clients had become accustomed to my “where’s my phone?” search at the end of the visit.

  Recent events and a certain curvy female wulfan had changed all that. Sam had texted me so regularly over the last few days that her presence seemed almost physical. Did this mean what I hoped it did?

  I pocketed my cell, still smiling. Walter’s fuzzy eyebrows did an intricate dance on his forehead. “Anyone special?”

  “Maybe,” I replied.

  “I hope so. You’ve been alone long enough.”

  The remark surprised me. Before Dillon bit me, I considered my life fulfilling, but ordinary. I thought of Sam. Ordinary has left the building. And I didn’t mourn its loss.

  I stepped through the door, and Fang and I regarded each other. He used to take one look at me and flatten his elongated black ears against his substantial neck. Our last visit had gone differently, considering my wulf had been raw and exposed at the time.

  Fang’s nostrils flared as he sucked in my scent. He had thoughts, this donkey. Far too many, most times. Walter had him tied to a stout post along the aisle, and after his quick sniff, he backed away until he ran out of rope. It seemed he remembered our last meeting.

  Walter positioned himself on the far side of the animal’s well-rounded body and took hold of his halter. Even though the owner was a big man, I’d seen Fang throw him like he weighed nothing at all. Walter functioned more like a sea anchor—he smoothed out the roughest bits but hardly rooted anything to the ground.

  I slipped a hand into my pocket and folded fingers around the syringe I had hidden there. Darren came in behind me with his armload of equipment and set it down out of donkey range. Then he stood with crossed arms, watching the show.

  I’d learned long ago that only the direct approach worked with Fang. He scorned any attempt on my part to be friendly or deliberately nonchalant. As I walked up to him, the skin around his nose and lips wrinkled, and his lower jaw moved, a distinct chewing motion with tongue involvement. In most equines, this showed acceptance of a situation, but with Fang it was equivalent to cocking a gun.

  Alrighty then.

  “Here, now. You behave.” Walter pulled on the halter and Fang raised his head, blocking the farmer’s view of me.

  I made sure the donkey’s big dark eye looked right at me. Next, I summoned the wulf.

  Fang’s eyes widened and he snorted, but his ears waved. Just like the last time, my combination of human and wulf scent confused him. I took one long stride toward him and he stepped away, pushing Walter against the wall. I found the jugular, pushed in the needle, pulled on the plunger to ensure I was in the right spot, and shot the sedative into the vein in a smooth, practiced movement. Then I retreated, shoving the predator back down.

  Apparently as a rookie to the process, I was only partially successful. Walter squeezed out from behind Fang and glanced at me before I could look away. His gaze widened. “Christ, Liam. What’s wrong with your eyes?”

  I blinked. The colors of the barn’s interior dropped back into the normal human range, and I looked back at Walter.

  “Nothing. Why?”

  He frowned and shook his head. “I thought—never mind, I’m picking up my new glasses in a week. Guess I need them.”

  Fang’s head and ears drooped, and I smiled at Darren. “He’s all yours,” I said.

  17

  I grinned when I saw who waited for Keen and me at home. From the passenger seat, my co-pilot wiggled a welcome. She barely contained herself long enough for me to unfasten her before she bounced out the door.

  Josh stood with Peter at the edge of the driveway. He’d said he would come tonight, but he’d arrived early. The bag he handed to Peter before saying hi to Keen offered a clue.

  “Is that Lee’s?”

  Josh grinned—his teeth white against his brown skin. “Thought we’d feast before we run.”

  In the ordinary human world, that would be the wrong order to do things, but we needed to run under the cover of darkness and had a few hours yet. The early May evening promised warmth, and with the earth coming to life all around us, I craved the exercise. I glanced at Peter and noticed he looked a little flushed.

  “You feeling okay?” I asked as we headed toward the house.

  “Yeah, fine. Didn’t get enough sleep last night. Kept having nightmares.”

  Peter still didn’t remember much about the evening of the attack. Over these last few days, I’d noticed his short-term memory had occasional lapses. It worried me, but Doc Hayek’s latest checkup indicated Peter was doing fine. At one hundred and twenty something, he wasn’t a young wulfan. Although apparently, they could reach one hundred and fifty.

  We, I reminded myself. We have extended lives.

  I turned when we reached the stairs to my suite in the basement. “I’ll be up in a sec. Gonna jump in the shower.”

  “Yeah, you stink like antiseptic.” Josh grinned.

  “Could be worse. At least it drowns the other smells.”

  Keen hovered between us—three of her favorite people in one group had her in doggy heaven. I waved her on to them. “Go with Josh.”

  She barked and followed them up the deck steps while I descended to the suite.

  I removed my work clothes and threw them in the laundry. Moments later, I stood beneath the pounding water letting the heat soak into my shoulders. It had been a good day, better than expected. I’d been able to keep the wulf buried deep enough that I didn’t freak out the animals, even the horse I’d examined. And the glimpse of wulf I’d used for Fang’s sedation had worked rather well.

  I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel just as my cell phone on the table lit up—Dan Reynolds singing about his inner demon. An actual call this time.

  “Hi there, soldier. How was your first day back in harness?”

  Her voice, husky with a slight burr, made my heart flip over. I was acutely aware of the towel I clutched around my waist. “Uh, good. Really good.”r />
  “No one ran away screaming?”

  I laughed. “Nope. Didn’t eat anyone, either. How are things going there?” I winced, regretting that my uncertainty had taken the conversation out of the personal and into the issue that had pulled Chris back to Brandon.

  Her voice reflected the change. “Not so good. Any leads on the rogue wulfleng dried up. It’s got my dad and Chris tied in knots.”

  “Not you, though?”

  “I roll with the punches. Worrying accomplishes nothing.”

  I laughed. That so sounded like Sam.

  “I’ll let you go,” she continued. “I hear you’re eating Lee’s.”

  How the heck—oh, Josh has been talking to Chris. “Yeah. They make a mean ginger beef.”

  “Say hi for me,” she said, and hung up.

  When I returned to the bathroom, the mirror revealed the silly grin on my face. I toweled off and pulled on a tee shirt and sweats—glad I didn’t have to hide my injuries with long sleeves while at home. The slices on my thighs had almost healed but were still tender to the touch. My arms were further along, and I traced the scars with a finger—the slashes had already faded from angry pink to interconnected white lines.

  Eat your heart out, Chris. Pushing dark thoughts of Dillon to the back of my mind, I left the suite and joined Peter, Josh, and Keen upstairs.

  I arrived to see Josh feeding Keen a deep-fried shrimp.

  “Hey, nothing fried!”

  “It’s good enough for you,” Josh pointed out.

  “The wulf will keep me from dying of a heart attack. Not her.”

  “You’ve been a wulf for less than a month, but you’ve been eating deep-fried takeout for years,” Peter said, laughing.

  Busted. I sighed and grabbed a plate.

  We ate on the deck, sitting at the picnic table. Josh sat across from me, and I got a chance to really look at him. His eyes appeared sunken with black circles under them. Always lean, his skin had a stretched appearance, as though the bones lay too close beneath. Chris had been gone for a few days now, but this would be familiar for Josh, and I didn’t think it was the cause of the rapid weight loss I noticed. The wulfan with the heart of a pacifist still struggled with having to kill Chloe. Was he eating at all when home alone?

 

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