by Dani Harper
Zoey had skillfully managed to present a credible and balanced story without ever using the word wolf. She’d gone back to the police, the mayor’s office, Fish and Game, and even the dogcatcher, and secured quotes from every last one of them. Somehow she’d managed to overcome their first impression of her as a hysterical woman literally crying wolf. The article spoke of the possibility of coyotes within town limits or dogs gone feral, with references to previous occurrences of both. But no mention was made of wolves.
Damn good job. Damn good professional job, thought Connor. He tucked the paper under his arm and stuck the doughnut in his mouth so he could open the door to his office. All his carefully balanced cargo fell to the floor, however, when he spotted the enormous black wolf inside.
“Christ, Culley!” Connor slammed the door behind him as the creature turned strange blue-gold eyes in his direction. “What the hell are you doing here?” Although the building was empty, instinct had him switching to mindspeech so he couldn’t be overheard. I mean it, Culley, have you gone completely crazy? What if someone sees you?
The black wolf was sprawled on the battered couch that Connor used for napping when surgeries kept him late. The bone-crushing jaws opened wide as the creature yawned hugely, exposing long, sharp teeth. Dog.
Oh sure, right, like you could pass for a dog! Get the hell out of here before you scare my patients. The cows in the livestock wing were unlikely to react to the scent of a Changeling, but still. . . .
Dog. The wolf shook itself. Relaxed its body language, dampened its appearance of alertness. Half-closed its eyes. Slowly, one erect tulip-shaped ear flopped down, then the other. The massive head dropped, the powerful shoulders slouched. Coupled with a toothy grin and lolling tongue, the large creature suddenly looked friendly, almost comical. Dog.
It’ll never work. Connor wasn’t about to admit that the small changes were incredibly effective, particularly when combined with Culley’s natural coloration. His long black muzzle had a snippet of solid white right down the middle of it that circled his nose, and there were white hairs in his eyebrows. There was a very un-wolflike star on his chest and the tip of his tail was pure white too. What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have some electronic gadgets to fix somewhere?
Can’t a guy visit his big brother? Haven’t seen you in weeks. Bill and Jessie sent me to haul your ass to their house for dinner tonight or—
A sudden knock at the door made Connor jump. His heart jumped, too, when Zoey Tyler poked her beautiful head inside.
“I was just in the neighborhood—” She glanced down. “Gee, I was going to ask if you’d read the paper yet. Sure hope that’s not your opinion of my article.”
Connor followed her gaze to the lumpy fritter soaking up spilled coffee like a sea sponge. The packages of sutures had fallen clear of the puddle, but the newspaper had been ground zero. “No, no, I was just clumsy. I—uh—was just about to get some paper towels from the lunchroom.” He put a hand on the doorknob, hoping to guide her back into the hall before she looked up and spotted the wolf but it was already too late. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at the massive black creature.
“Oh. My. God.”
To Connor’s astonishment, Zoey opened the door further and stepped inside. She had a hand on his arm but her expression was one of wonder, not fear. “That is the biggest, most humongous dog I have ever seen in my entire life. Is that one of those Belgian Shepherds I’ve been hearing about? Somebody must have crossed it with a Pyrenees to make it so big.”
Connor latched onto that idea a little desperately. “He’s definitely an unusual mix.”
“He must have some malamute or husky in him too. Just look at those gorgeous eyes. Can I touch him? Is he friendly?”
Any hope he had of getting Zoey out of his office was dashed as the big black animal jumped off the couch, seemingly as awkward and clumsy as any puppy. It rushed over, wagging its tail so madly that its entire rear section was in motion. “It’s okay, he’s safe,” Connor reassured Zoey. Mentally, he wasn’t so calm. If you scare her away, Culley, I’ll personally kick your hairy butt all over creation, do you hear me?
The creature whined ever so slightly, looked almost hurt. Good dog.
My ass. But you damn well better act like one now.
Zoey was far from terrified. She laughed as she buried her hands in the thick ruff around the creature’s neck and scratched behind its floppy ears. It chuffed and whined, rubbing its massive head against her for more attention. It looked around her and up at Connor with a smug expression and winked a hazel eye at him. Dog.
How would you like to be neutered?
The animal curled its lips back in answer, showing its fangs. Then Connor heard his brother’s laughter in his mind as the black “dog” shook itself and suddenly stood on its hind legs. It towered over Zoey, resting its paws lightly on her shoulders—and licked her face thoroughly.
“Hey!” Connor inserted himself between them and shoved the creature off balance, forcing it to return to all fours. Mine! Instinctively he broadcast the primal word with a psychic punch behind it. The wolf skittered backward a few inches as if struck. Planted its feet and stared up at Connor, speculation in those blue-gold eyes. Then it ambled off to sprawl on the couch.
“It wasn’t hurting me,” said Zoey from behind him.
“Well, yeah but—but he can’t be allowed to jump up on people like that. Nothing worse than bad manners in a big dog, and it can be downright dangerous for old people and children, you know.” He shot a glare at the creature. It chuffed out a breath at him and looked away, clearly insulted. Connor threw an arm around Zoey’s shoulders and gently steered her out of the office, closing the door firmly behind them.
“You’re sweating. Are you okay?”
“Just warm,” he lied. He felt very far from okay. The wolf within him was awake. Wide, wide, awake and he didn’t understand why. Nor did he have the faintest idea why he’d reacted so primitively to his brother licking Zoey’s face. For one fleeting instant he’d very nearly Changed. Another second and he would have been at Culley’s throat.
He grabbed a bottle of water out of the lunchroom fridge and guzzled most of it down before he remembered he had a guest. “I’m sorry. Would you like anything?” He opened the fridge door again to show off the contents, but she shook her head.
“I can’t stay—I’m due at the Rotary Club in twenty, gotta write up something on their guest speaker. Really, I just came by to see if I could talk to your receptionist. I’m doing a story on local wildflowers and someone told me she knows a lot about plants.”
Knows a lot was an understatement. “She’s certainly the right source for that. Birkie gathers plants for medicinal uses, grows her own herbs. I know she’d be happy to help you, but she’s in Scotland right now.”
“Wow. I’ve always wanted to visit Scotland. And Ireland too—my parents are from there. I hear the British Isles are beautiful.”
“They are. My folks moved to Scotland a few years ago.” He didn’t mention that he’d been born there, had spent his entire childhood there, until a rogue Changeling had killed a human, and the hunts began. The entire sept of Clan Macleod had been forced to flee, and his parents had brought him and his siblings to the Peace River country of northern Canada. The hills and coulees of Dunvegan bore a striking resemblance to the land they’d left behind. . . .
“I guess you don’t get to see your folks much then.”
“Not as much as I’d like. It’s pretty hard to get away from the practice.” Another reason for bringing in a partner. “My sister, Kenzie, went along with Birkie this time.”
“I know what it’s like to be busy. You must wish you were with them.”
“Not at this moment.” It was true. He was enjoying the scenery right where he was. Connor could feel that his wolf was close to the surface but it was merely watchful. Observing. Maybe it was enjoying Zoey’s freckles too. Her fine features were awash in fragments of gold. The delightf
ul speckling continued unabated down her throat, over her collarbones and down—
He yanked his eyes up before he started peering down her blouse but couldn’t help wondering if her breasts were covered in golden freckles too. He fervently hoped so, and a slow, lazy grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, which he suppressed quickly with a cough into his hand. And more water. He drained the bottle and tossed it into the blue bin for recyclables. Remembered to grab a roll of paper towels from a cupboard and tucked it under his arm. “You know, before my newspaper met an untimely end, I caught your article on the canine attack.” He made quotation marks in the air around the word canine. “Nice work.”
“You think people will take it seriously? Enough to be on their guard? Because it’s really been bothering me. I don’t want anybody to get hurt because I made the decision not to call a spade a spade.”
“Or a wolf a wolf. Yeah, I think you struck just the right tone with the story.”
She looked relieved and smiled at him, that little smile he’d first noticed when he’d been holding her close in his truck . . . and he really, really wanted to hold her close again. Now. Right now.
Instead he forced himself to walk her to the front doors of the clinic and watch her cross the parking lot to her old red truck. He hadn’t had the chance to observe her from behind before. Even her injured leg couldn’t disguise her distinctive walk. The way she moved set off all kinds of intriguing thoughts . . . like just where did those freckles end?
“She’s pretty, bro.”
Connor spun at Culley’s voice behind him. “You! What the hell did you think you were doing?”
His younger brother was an inch shorter than he, a little leaner, yet the shape of his face was similar to Connor’s, the bone structure and set of his jaw too. It was obvious they were Macleods, but there the resemblance ended. Culley was the family prankster, with a ready grin and hazel eyes that seemed constantly amused by the world. Full of the devil, as their mother was fond of saying.
“Just yanking your chain a little, bro. Wasn’t anyone in the clinic but us at the time.” Culley surveyed Connor and let out a low whistle. “But let’s talk about you. You look like shit. And you’re damn testy today too.”
“Thanks a bunch. I was doing just fine until you showed up. Speaking of appearances, I’m almost used to you showing up without shoes, but where the hell are your pants?”
Culley looked down. He had a shirt on, and it was even buttoned for once. But instead of his usual jeans, he wore Homer Simpson flannel pajama bottoms—with holes in both knees. There was a big hole in the toe of one mismatched sock as well. “Huh. Guess I was in a hurry.”
“You’re always in a hurry. Get some clothes from my office before somebody sees you and thinks you’re strange.”
Connor shook his head as his younger brother disappeared. Anything present within the aura of a Changeling’s body as it shifted into wolfen form was automatically taken along for the ride. That meant clothing certainly, but also objects such as wallets, jewelry, even tools and cell phones. All were somehow suspended in a separate dimension until human form was resumed. Culley’s twin, Devlin, had made it his mission in life to discover the how and why of this, constantly experimenting with the phenomenon. He also studied recent scientific discoveries in quantum physics which had led to the development of something called String Theory. Connor didn’t quite understand the principle—although Devlin expounded on it at every opportunity—only that this new theory maintained there were far more dimensions than the three that humans were aware of.
Culley, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about the physics of Changeling abilities. He lived for the pure joy of the Change, the freedom of his wolfen self, the oneness with the earth. He was quick to Change at any opportunity—and often a little too quick, Changing before making certain it was completely safe. He also seldom made sure he was fully clothed before he shifted. It was a constant source of amusement to the Pack to see how Culley would turn up next, but every one of them had also warned him—someday he’d have to return to human form unexpectedly, and there would be a lot of explaining to do.
He’s going to show up naked on Main Street one of these days. Connor headed back to his office. Once there, he found the soggy mess had already been cleaned up, and his sutures were stacked neatly on his desk. Relieved, he tossed the paper towels he’d been carrying onto the couch beyond and sank into his chair. He watched Culley digging through the dresser over by the en suite sans pajama bottoms. The scar on his right leg was still visible although more than a century had passed. . . .
“Geez, Connor, half the clothes in this dresser should be burned. Where the hell do you shop?”
“The farm supply store mostly.”
“It shows. Where is your sense of style? Even your patients have more fashion sense.”
“My style is just fine, thanks. And I want those back when you’re done with them.”
Culley rolled his eyes as he yanked on a pair of nondescript jeans and buttoned them. “Just how much sleep have you been getting lately, bro?”
“Why are you still here? And why are you asking so many questions?”
“Hey, I’m on a mission. I’ve got orders to invite you to supper and not to take no for an answer. Bill and Jessie are worried about you. We all are.”
Connor swiveled the chair to face his brother. “About me? Why?”
“Duh! Your practice has grown way too large for one person.” Culley switched to mindspeech and added: Even for a Changeling.
“God, you sound just like Birkie.” Connor rubbed a hand over his eyes, then gratefully drained the fresh cup of coffee he found on his desk. “I’ll get to it.”
“At the rate you’re getting to it, your former assistant, Morgan, will be able to apply for the job. And she has three years of veterinary college left.”
“So I’m a slow mover.”
“Well now, there’s an understatement. Why the hell didn’t you ask that long-legged editor to go out with you?”
Annoyance resurfaced. “Maybe I would have if I hadn’t been distracted by a goddamn wolf in my office!” Or, more likely, his own wolf within. He still felt shaken by its near-emergence.
“And there’s that temper again.” Culley folded his arms and tsked. “Completely out of character for you, bro. And so was that little display of force when I licked your gal’s pretty face. I’ll bet it pissed you off that I kissed her first. Almost Changed, didn’t you?”
“Okay, okay, yeah.” It was pointless to deny it. Most of them could mask their thoughts at will—a natural defense among telepaths—but any Changeling could tell when another was about to become a wolf. It took energy, lots of it, and it was instinctively drawn from the earth itself, gathered from the very air. The static charge that built around a Changeling vibrated in the air like an approaching thunderstorm. “I guess I’m a lot more tired than I thought.”
“You were seconds away from tearing my head off my shoulders with your teeth! You think it was just a matter of not enough sleep?”
“Isn’t that what you were complaining about, that I’m working too hard?”
His brother shook his head and checked his watch. “I give up. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself. For now, just get in the truck.”
“I’ve got a herd vaccination in an hour at—”
“—at Hal Bremner’s place, I know. Devlin and I already did it. Now let’s move out.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” protested Connor, but his brother was already halfway down the hall. He might have known his brother wasn’t out of earshot though.
The hell I didn’t. Jessie will have both our butts in a sling if you’re not at that dinner table pronto. Connor had no problem imagining that. Jessie was leader of the Pack for good reason, and it had nothing to do with her phenomenal cooking skills.
But her cooking skills were ample reason to heed her summons.
He chuckled and hurried down the hall after his brot
her.
Chapter Eight
The waning moon was veiled with a dark wisp of cloud as the old man shuffled slowly through the overgrown yard. Bernie needed to be outside where he could breathe the scents on the wind. The open expanse of sky was vivid with stars, as wild streamers of cloud tumbled and twisted past them. A coyote yipped in the distant forest and was forcefully answered by a pair of wolves. Our land. Ours.
Depression threatened to crush him, exacerbated by the tall bottle of Black Velvet he’d been nursing most of the day. Bernie hadn’t been able to Change, not since Macleod had injected him with the only poison that could affect him: silver. It wasn’t supposed to have happened, he had taken steps to make sure it didn’t happen. There shouldn’t have been anything but water in the bottle. Shoulda done it myself, shoulda taken care of it myself.
What if there had been a tiny amount of actual nitrate left in the small bottle before Macleod filled it? The syringe had been huge, taking in the entire contents of the bottle and delivering them into Bernie’s veins. At full-strength, it would have been a massive dose. But what if it didn’t really take that much to do the job? What if just a drop or two of silver nitrate mixed with water was enough?
Bernard Gervais had run wild and free for several human lifetimes. He was strong and powerful, answering to no one, not even to Jessie, the Pack Leader. Hell, he was a lot older than all of them. He should be leading the Pack, not that smart-mouthed woman. She couldn’t tell him what to do and neither could that young pup, Connor. Damn them both, damn all of them!
He knew it was futile after his first few attempts at Changing, but he couldn’t seem to stop trying. He sank down in the tall grass, exhausted. By day he drank heavily, raging at Connor, hating him. By night he grieved and hated his life, hated himself and what he’d become. Human. Stupid, weak, sniveling human.
Bernie stretched out full length on the ground, seeking some shred of comfort from the earth. He was cold, something he had seldom been before. It can’t be gone, it can’t be over. Surely his gift could not have left him completely after so many, many years. It was all the more frustrating now that he’d found an incredible source of energy, a human with a powerful bloodline, blood that could make him all but invincible. And now the Macleods would have it all to themselves, would once again have the power that should be his.