Changeling Moon

by Dani Harper

  Drawing a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes and willed once more—and for the first time he felt an answering shift in his body. He could hardly believe it, sitting up in his excitement, inhaling in short sharp gasps. He willed again, and again he could feel a response. It wasn’t his imagination. A low gurgling laugh emerged from his lips, a frightening blend of growl and hysteria. You’re going to pay, Macleod. And so is that red-haired bitch. She’s going to pay for what she did to my face. Right after she gives me what I want.

  A wicked smile drew his lips back unnaturally, exposing both upper and lower teeth, causing most of the cuts on his face to crack and bleed again. The blood oozed black in the moonlight. A few moments later, the smile was replaced by the grinning jaws of a wolf.

  God, the bed felt like heaven. Connor was glad he’d gone to Bill and Jessie’s home. The company was good, of course. His brothers, Culley and Devlin, always kept the conversation lively. He’d lost track of how many helpings of the venison stew and fresh bread he’d had, but it was the first time in a long time he felt like he’d gotten enough to eat. The Change burned up a hell of a lot of calories. So did working like a man possessed. Culley and Birkie, Jessie and Bill, all of them had been right: He needed to take action on hiring another vet.

  First thing in the morning, he murmured. Tomorrow.

  Banners of moonlight moored windows to floor, the silvery streamers making the shadows of his room darker, deeper. Connor’s eyes closed blissfully. His breathing slowed, his large frame sprawled and relaxed. He had just achieved the nirvana state of full sleep when the phone on the night table rang.

  Miles away, Zoey thrashed in the grip of a nightmare. She was running through the darkened streets of Dunvegan, pursued by the grizzled gray wolf. Every now and then she’d risk a glance behind her and see the glowing eyes, the snarling, snapping jaws. She climbed fences, ran through buildings, even drove her car for a while, but still the monstrous creature followed her. It was like the lupine version of The Terminator. She could neither hide from it nor outrun it, and it was coming closer and closer. Gurgling snarls filled her ears, and she could feel its hot breath on the backs of her legs. Any second it was going to bite her, take her down like a deer and kill her. . . . She wanted to scream but no sound would come out.

  Suddenly another wolf, larger, darker, appeared on the sidewalk directly in front of her. Zoey dove off to one side to avoid it and fell onto the grass. She expected to feel her pursuer’s teeth, expected the newcomer to attack her as well. Instead, the gray wolf launched itself at the bigger wolf’s throat and a furious battle ensued. She wanted to run, wanted to get away while the animals fought, but she found herself unable to move. She was frozen, paralyzed. Helpless.

  And when the gray wolf lay in a bloodied heap on the ground, she could only wait for the victor to look in her direction, wait for its strange gray eyes to fasten on her. Wait for it to spring with bared and bloody teeth. . . .

  Her own scream awakened her. Zoey practically leapt out of her bed, turning on every light she could find, and rubbing her hands up and down her arms to stave off the chill effects of the nightmare. “Voices,” she said. “I need voices.” She bundled herself in an afghan on the couch and reached for the remote, hoping a little television would anchor her in some sort of reality.

  A few minutes later she was rolling her eyes. She should have known that television in the wee hours of morning was the wrong place to turn to for reality. After flipping through a variety of scary movies, including one about werewolves no less, she turned off the set and threw the remote onto another chair in disgust. It was going to be a long, long night. . . .

  She nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang beside her. At this time of night the only reason to call a small-town newspaper editor was fire. Any other disasters would wait until morning. Alert and all business, she grabbed the receiver but didn’t get a chance to say a word.

  “Thank God you’re there! Look, I’m sorry to ask, but I really need your hands.”

  “Connor?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. You’re not squeamish, are you?”

  “No—hey, are you okay?”

  “I’m at the clinic, about to be up to my ass in puppies. I swear I’ll buy you the most exotic coffee on the planet—hell, I’ll buy you a whole coffee plantation, if you’ll just come help.”

  “I don’t have any experience, but I’ll come.”

  “You have two hands, that’s all I need.”

  “I—” The phone went dead and she stared at the receiver for a long moment, then hurried to her room to get dressed. She wasn’t certain how much help she could be, but hanging out with a hot veterinarian sure beat sitting up all night afraid to go to sleep.

  The clinic doors were open. Only the night-lights were on in the reception area, and Zoey was grateful she’d been there earlier. At least she had some idea where things were. She passed the examination rooms, the lab, the lunchroom, heading down the hallway to where bright light spilled out of a doorway. She looked inside and caught only a fleeting glimpse of Connor before he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her forehead loudly.

  “Thanks for coming. I got this emergency call an hour ago.” He took her hand and led her to a stainless steel table where a large reddish-gold dog lay panting heavily. Her shaved belly was the size and color of a prize-winning pumpkin. “This is Millie. She’s got enough puppies in there for a football team but the poor gal’s not making any progress. I’m going to do a C-section but I have to have someone to watch her vitals and to take the puppies as I hand them off.” He looked at Zoey then, measuring her. “You sure you’re up to this? Because once we get started, it’s going to go fast. There’s no time to get sick or faint.”

  “Hey, city reporter here. I’ve covered the crime beat,” she protested. “You just tell me what to do.”

  He grinned and patted her shoulder. “Okay, tough gal, here we go.”

  It did go fast. One moment Connor was showing her how to check the dog’s pulse, and the next, he was making the first incision. Somewhere between those tasks, he’d managed to start an IV, feed a tube down Millie’s windpipe, start the anesthetic and reposition the now-sleeping dog on the table, all the while giving Zoey instructions on what to do with the puppies when they arrived. She held a towel in her hands, nervous but ready, checking the dog’s pulse frequently. Millie’s heart was strong and steady. Like Connor, she thought. She watched him work, admiring the efficiency and artistry that went into the surgery.

  Suddenly he handed her something that looked like a slimy gray jelly bean—if jelly beans were the size of Idaho potatoes. It squirmed a little in her towel and she realized with a start that it was a puppy, totally encased in an amniotic sac. Omigod. She peeled the sac away to reveal the wet blond puppy underneath and rubbed it vigorously with the towel. It began squeaking and she watched, fascinated, as it blindly waved its little blunt nose around. It sounded almost indignant. A rush of warmth shot through her and she had to blink hard to clear her eyes of unexpected moisture. She looked up to find Connor grinning at her.

  “Congratulations. You’ve just witnessed the start of a brand-new life.”

  “Is it like this for you too?”

  “Every single time. It never gets old. It does get rushed though. Put that one under the heat lamp. His brothers and sisters are ready to come out and play.”

  He wasn’t kidding. Zoey would no sooner get a puppy rubbed down than Connor was handing her another. And another. At one point she was rubbing two at a time. “Holy cow, how many are there?”

  “At least a dozen. Retrievers usually have big litters, but Millie’s outdone herself. Check her pulse for me, will you?”

  Zoey hurried to do so, but the mother dog was fine. The next puppy wasn’t, however. It looked different from its siblings, smaller and unmoving. “Connor, I can’t get this one to breathe.”

  “Use the bulb syringe, suction the fluid out of its mouth.”

  She did
her best but felt clumsy with the unfamiliar tool. The pup lay limp.

  “Shake it very gently, upside down. The lungs may need to drain a little.”

  That was harder. She was fearful of hurting it, but as the pup continued to be unresponsive, she jiggled it harder. Nothing. “Connor!”

  “Don’t panic yet. The bottle on the table is a respiratory stimulant. Put a drop on its tongue and then keep rubbing it with the towel. Keep its head down.”

  She had tears in her eyes as she opened the tiny mouth. Everything was so delicate, so perfect. She applied the drop and resumed rubbing. “C’mon, c’mon, breathe! You can do it, little guy, c’mon.”

  “I’ve got another puppy that can’t wait. You’re going to have to juggle them.”

  Flustered, she tucked the limp pup under her sweatshirt to keep it warm, took the new pup, and was relieved when it squeaked almost immediately. She was just placing it in the box under the heat lamp with its siblings when a faint movement next to her skin caught her attention. She reached in and found the troubled pup squirming feebly. “Oh, look at you! What a wonderful fellow you are!” She crooned to the puppy as she rubbed it with the towel. Tears ran down her face when it finally made a faint squeak.

  “Way to go, Dr. Tyler.”

  “He’s the one that did it, he kept trying.”

  “So did you. And here’s two more for you.”

  In the end there were fifteen puppies nestled in a squirming mass under the heat lamp. Connor finished suturing the mother as he adjusted the gas, explaining that he had to wean Millie off the anesthetic. “She’s going to wake up pretty soon and we’ll see if we can talk her into nursing these pups a little. The first milk produced has all sorts of antibodies and such that the pups are going to need. But after that, we’re going to bottle feed them for a meal or two while she rests and recovers. Bring along a couple of the pups.”

  Zoey gathered up the two biggest puppies and followed as Connor carried Millie into his office and placed her on an enormous sheepskin pillow on the floor. It was surrounded by wide planks nailed together to form a box of sorts and positioned in front of the couch. Connor took the dog’s pulse, pushed open first one eyelid, then the other and looked in her eyes. The dog pulled her head back and shook it. “She’s waking up just fine. Put the pups with her and let’s go get the rest.”

  Zoey nestled them close to the mother, and was amazed at how they immediately flailed about in search of a nipple. One fastened on right away. “How do they know what to do?”

  “Instinct. All the instructions are hardwired into them, so they don’t have to know anything. They just do.”

  It took several trips, but finally, the pups were arranged two deep along the mother’s belly. Connor turned the lights off except for a small lamp. Zoey thought they were leaving but instead, he stretched out on the old couch. “I have to keep an eye on Millie for a while. She’s an experienced mom but she might be disoriented,” he explained and extended his arm in invitation. “Why don’t you scootch right in here and have a nap? You worked hard tonight.”

  She hesitated for a second, then realized she was far too tired to drive home. Besides, the idea of cuddling up to the tall vet was a temptation she really didn’t want to resist.

  The battered couch was surprisingly comfortable. It was long and wide, and although Connor filled the length of it, when he turned sideways there was just the right amount of room for her to spoon in front of him. He wrapped a powerful arm around her waist and pulled her snugly against him. God, it felt good. Heat seemed to flow from him, working its way into her tired body as if she had a campfire at her back. She watched as Millie lifted her head and began nosing her puppies, tentatively at first then licking them enthusiastically. “Look, she’s discovering her new family.”

  Connor’s voice rumbled pleasantly in her ear. “This is the best part, after it’s all over and you can just enjoy watching them bond.”

  “You’re really good at what you do. And you like it a lot, don’t you?”

  “Can’t imagine doing anything else. But you were great tonight yourself.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do. You helped a helluva lot. I might have lost a couple of those pups, trying to do it all myself. Or I could have been a little too slow and lost Millie. So, thanks.”

  “Thanks for asking me.”

  He planted a kiss on her cheek, hugged her tight. “Go to sleep now.”

  She did. She had fully intended to continue watching the puppies but instead fell headlong into dreamless slumber, secure in Connor’s arms.

  Zoey awakened to the sound of squeaking puppies. She opened her eyes to find Connor kneeling by the box, bottlefeeding one of the pups. Millie didn’t appear to mind or perhaps she was just preoccupied. The mother dog seemed to be nosing the squirming mass of hungry pups into some sort of order.

  “Morning,” she managed.

  He looked up from his task and smiled. “Sorry if I woke you. I tried not to make noise, but this crew was ready to riot. There’s fresh coffee and cinnamon buns in the lunchroom if you want.”

  “Holy cow, you baked?”

  “Nope, Dell Mackie brought them by. I offered to marry her again but she turned me down as usual.”

  “I see. You must be heartbroken,” she ventured.

  “Devastated. She’s eighty-nine, but nobody makes cinnamon buns like she does.”

  Zoey laughed and tried to sit up, but discovered she was buried in quilts. She struggled out from under them, sat up, and ran her hands through her hair. “God, I must look a sight.”

  “A sight for sore eyes, and one I’d like to see more of.”

  “But I don’t know how to make cinnamon buns.”

  “Every relationship has its challenges.”

  She chuckled as she knelt by the box. “Where’s the littlest guy, the one I had trouble with last night?”

  “Left hand side, bottom row, with the rest of Millie’s little black sheep.” Connor nodded in the general direction, his attention taken up with feeding a second pup in his hands.

  “Her what?”

  “Look closer at the pups. Notice anything unusual?”

  Their fuzzy puppy coats were dry now and Zoey thought the variety of colors made quite a picture. Eight were reddish gold like their mother. Three were blond. They were plump, their rounded features similar. She frowned as she realized the remaining four were different. Even though their newborn features were blunt and undeveloped, it was obvious that their shape, their build, was nothing like the others. Leaner. Shorter coat. And the color—three were chestnut with white markings, white feet. The smallest pup, the one that had been tucked in Zoey’s shirt, was a mix of white and brindle. “Why are they so different?”

  “Different father I imagine. The owners will be furious. Millie’s a purebred with a ritzy pedigree and this will call the breeding into question.”

  Zoey stared at him. “Different fathers? In one batch?”

  “It happens with dogs and cats. The owners had Millie bred to a champion stud. But it looks like another dog got to her afterward while she was still in estrus. My money’s on old Bruce Granger’s boxer.” Connor shook his head. “Millie’s owners will want the whole litter put down.”

  “What?”

  “A lot of folks breed dogs as a business. For some, it’s only a business. If the pups have no future in the show ring, if they can’t command top price, then they’re disposed of.”

  Disposed. Zoey was horrified. She’d helped them take their first breaths. For a fleeting and foolish moment she thought about adopting them all, then realized the impossibility of it. “Why can’t they just find homes for them?”

  “Most breeders would do that. They keep their potential champions and they sell their pet quality animals. But these folks are more hard-headed than most. They think it devalues their stock to put pets on the market.” He snorted at that. “As if the average family was able to buy one of their five-thousand-doll
ar bluebloods.”

  “I’m keeping this one.” Zoey reached into the box and picked up the small brindle and white pup and held it to her cheek. “I don’t care what the owners say or what they want for it, I’m keeping him. He’s not disposable.”

  Connor looked stricken. “God, I didn’t mean—I should have thought before I spoke. You don’t have to worry about these puppies, Zoey. I’m not going to let anything happen to them.”

  “Honest?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “But the owners—”

  “Knowing the owners as I do, I think it’s best that they never know about these four little door prizes. Millie had eleven pups. Capiche?”

  “My lips are sealed. But I still want this puppy.” And she did. Zoey had never had a dog of her own. She definitely didn’t want one like the massive black pony that had been in Connor’s office, but she had to admit she liked the enthusiastic affection.

  “He’ll be ready for you to take home in about six weeks. If I can’t find a surrogate mom for these four, I’ll get someone to hand-raise them for me.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done this, Zoey realized. “Do you try to save everything?”

  He laughed a little. “My hired man, Jim Neely, asks me that every time I bring home another orphan. He complains that I’m turning the farm into a petting zoo, but then he always finds a place for the animal. More than a few have been rehabilitated thanks to him. My sibs help too.”

  “So a love for animals runs in the family?”

  “I guess you could say that. Maybe it’s more a respect for nature. But don’t put me on too high of a pedestal. This is a veterinary practice, and I have to put down animals as well. I get my share of cases where there’s no other option. Luckily this isn’t one of them.”