by Dani Harper
James was caught off guard by the question, seemed almost embarrassed. “I just thought about what you said, that’s all. Made sense to give it a try.”
“And?” Connor said expectantly.
“There’s no ‘and.’”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Don’t bullshit me. I just phoned Birkie a while ago to get my messages. She said that my brother showed up today and assisted Jillian with a patient. Maybe you could elaborate?”
“Jillian was going to get hurt. They all were. I didn’t get a chance to think about it. I was sound asleep in the damn loft and suddenly there was this overwhelming sense of danger. It was like being jolted awake with a cattle prod. I was down the ladder and in the room before I was even fully awake.”
“Birkie mentioned it was a pretty dangerous situation. She was trying to figure out a way to use some of her mojo on the dog when you came in. Said she was damn glad to see you.”
James shook his head. “Jillian was already in harm’s way with nothing but a leather muzzle between her and—hey, you’re not going to give her grief about this, are you?” The last words came out almost as a snarl.
Connor was surprised to see a glimpse of the white wolf in the blatant warning that flashed across his brother’s face, but he wasn’t intimidated. “Damn right I will. She’s a good vet, going to be a great one, but she doesn’t have years of experience under her belt yet. I’m her boss and the senior vet, and that gives me the right to chew her out when necessary.”
James got up without a word and went back out to the porch. Connor followed.
“So, that’s quite a protective streak you’ve got going on there, bro.”
“I know it.”
“You’re in human form because of Jillian.” He made it a statement.
James leaned against a post. “Yeah. Wish I could give you a more noble reason, like I want to return to being a productive member of society, but that’s not why I Changed. I won’t lie about that.” He turned and faced his brother. “The truth is, being human is the only thing I can think of to do, the only way to protect her. I can’t control the wolf, so I can’t be the wolf.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. As long as it takes, I guess, whatever it takes to make sure she’s safe.”
Connor thought James was mistaken about not having a noble reason. He could hear the determination in his brother’s voice, see the absolute commitment to this path in his face. And just how uncomfortable this path was for him. Still, there were a lot of loose ends to this new plan. “And when you’re certain she’s safe, what then? You’ll just go back to being a full-time wolf? Run on four legs for another thirty years?”
James swore in exasperation. “For Christ’s sake, I’ve already gotten an earful from Birkie on the subject.” He left the porch, stalked across the yard to the nearest corral. Rested his arms on the top rail and watched the horses within.
Connor watched the horses too, his horses, as their heads came up and they looked with curious eyes at the blond stranger leaning on the fence. He chuckled as they all trotted over to his brother. “I’ll be damned,” he said to himself. “Animals still act like puppies around you. You haven’t lost your touch, bro.” He watched the horses bumping each other, all trying to nuzzle James at the same time. Even the cranky old pinto, which didn’t like people at all as a general rule, made an exception for him and was eagerly nosing in for a pat. “Small wonder you were able to deal with Ruby’s monster dog.” Again he wondered if James ever missed the land and the livestock he was so talented with.
Connor wanted nothing more than to leave things alone, take this time with his brother and just enjoy being with him. But there were things his brother needed to hear, and putting them off wouldn’t make it easier. Even to say them was to risk alienating him. Good Christ. Why do I get to be the one to do this? His shoulders felt heavy as he crossed the yard to stand beside James, who waved a hand at the horses and sent them to the other side of the corral.
“Leave it alone, Connor.”
“You have to listen.”
“I don’t have to listen to a goddamn thing. Leave it be.”
“It’s way too late, you know.”
“Too late for you to shut the hell up?”
“Too late to just go back to being a wolf. You’re so damn used to being an animal that you’ve forgotten the complex emotional world of human relationships. Think, for God’s sake. You’re on two legs, but you’re still acting like a wolf, focused solely on one thing and that’s Jillian. I agree that you need to look out for her, but there’s a whole lot more you need to consider, other people you need to think about here.”
“I haven’t thought about anything yet.” James faced his brother with both fury and frustration in his blue eyes. “I’ve been human for two damn days, and I’ve already had enough. You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what the hell you’re asking. I feel like my skin’s missing and all the nerves are exposed. I just want to Change and—”
“Run away? That’s been your answer to everything, hasn’t it?” A fist lashed out in response, but Connor had expected it and spun neatly out of reach. Just barely. James had always been fast. “You can’t run forever.”
The follow-up blow connected solidly and split Connor’s lip. With a growl that was more animal than human, he ducked his head and charged James. They grappled like boxers, like bears. Connor got a hand free and hammered his brother’s ribs. James hooked a right into Connor’s chin and followed it with an uppercut, staggering him. Before Connor could regain his balance, James tackled him, taking them both between the fence rails and into the corral. There they rolled together in the dirt, wrestling, punching, swearing. Connor was strong, but he’d never had his brother’s skill as a fighter. In moments, James had straddled Connor and punched him solidly twice more. But just as James was drawing his fist back for a third time, a flash of light and a sudden explosion of electricity knocked him flying backward.
He came to about a dozen feet away, lying flat on his back in the dirt. A crackle of sparks still played in the air around him. James shook his head and blinked, hard, to clear his vision. And saw a very large wolf sitting beside him, watching him. The grinning animal was silver with a blanket of black over his shoulders—and James knew there was only one Changeling with that rare saddleback pattern. “No fair Changing in the middle of a fight, you cheating bastard.” He said it without heat, however. Whatever anger he’d had before had been effectively blown away. Changing in close proximity to anyone wasn’t recommended. It took energy to become the wolf, and an experienced Changeling automatically drew it not only from his own reserves but also from the earth, the air. The static build-up was immense. James remembered when he’d first learned that.
“Seems to me you pulled that little stunt when we were kids too.” He’d been sitting on Connor then as well, and punching him in the face—God, were they ten? Twelve?—and Connor had Changed. The blast of static had thrown James a good twenty feet in a flurry of blue sparks.
Still seems to be the only way I can beat you. You didn’t fly so far this time, though. Must have gained a few pounds.
“Get your smart ass over here and help me up, why don’t you?” James struggled to his knees and just stayed there for a few moments. He was winded and a headache was starting to pound in the back of his head. At least he was still breathing. If he’d been human instead of Changeling, his heart might have stopped and he wouldn’t be breathing at all.
A large hand appeared in his field of vision. James gripped it and let Connor pull him to his feet. “What the hell were we arguing about again?” He made his way to a fence post and gripped it hard to steady himself.
“I was telling you to quit running away.”
“And I was telling you to back off, goddammit. I need a chance to think.”
“You’d better think, and think hard, bro. You’ve been gone for thirty years. Three decades. Just how do you think the family is goin
g to respond? Hell, how do you think Mom and Dad would react if they knew you were here, like this? Walking around in human form?”
James’s irritation drained away abruptly. “What, our folks don’t want me back?”
“No, James, they do want you back. You don’t know how bad they want you back. They pray for it every day, every single day. They’ll welcome you with open arms, just like all the rest of us will, believe me. What I’m saying is, don’t fool around with their hearts.”
“What are you talking about? You make it sound like I plan to hurt them or something.”
“You’re planning to be human for a little while, then disappear again. How do you think they’ll feel? You can’t just pop in and out of people’s lives. It’s not right.” Connor ran a hand over his face and jammed it back in his pocket. “Good Christ, James, you’ve been dead. Maybe not physically, but for all intents and purposes, as far as your family is concerned, you’ve been dead for three decades. You can’t come back from the dead and then disappear again.”
Tentatively James let go of the fence post and straightened, stretched. He felt as if he’d been beaten with a sack of hammers. “Maybe I’d just better stay dead then.”
“It’s a little late for that. Think you can go back to being a wolf now and that’ll fix everything? Because it sure as hell won’t. Birkie’s already seen you. Jillian’s seen you. They know the family, they know the Watsons. Put it together.”
Realization dawned. “The rest of the family is going to find out I was in human form,” he said slowly as all the implications began to sink in. “I should never have Changed. I should have stayed a wolf,” he said, half to himself. “I should Change back now, before things get any more tangled.”
“Which brings us right back to my original point, that it’s way too late for that. The family, the Pack, our friends—hell, even Zoey will be devastated that she didn’t get to see you and I—shit, James, I don’t want you to go.” He paced and waved a hand as he struggled for words. “Look, you did what you had to do to survive when Evelyn died. You Changed and you stayed a wolf for a long time. I get that, I understand that, James. I didn’t blame you for it, I never blamed you.
“But then the years went by and you were still a wolf. Decades went by, and that’s what I have trouble understanding. Even for a Changeling, thirty years is one hell of a long time.”
“It didn’t feel like a long time.”
“Not to you. Not to you, but you ought to feel it from this side. From the side of all the people you left behind to miss you. Christ, you’re my brother, James, and I miss you every damn day of my life.”
Douglas set the grocery bags on the kitchen table, a shapeless heap of red and white plastic. There was milk and other things that should go in the refrigerator, but they could wait. What he wanted, needed, was in the brown paper bag. He looked around, checked the coffeemaker, smelled it. The coffee had been on too long, at that stage where it was just this side of syrup, but at least it hadn’t burnt. It would be strong, but maybe he needed it strong today. He poured two thirds of a cup, then drew the black-labeled bottle from the bag, topped up his cup with the amber liquid and drank it down greedily.
Better. Douglas felt his jangled nerves settle as the warmth spread through him. Filled the cup again, half and half this time. Why won’t she leave things alone? He liked the lady vet but she just had to bring up the goddamn white wolf. Okay, okay, so he’d panicked and lied when there was no real reason to lie. She was right, there were real wolves in the region. Lots of them, in fact. He wished that what Dr. Descharme suggested was true, that years ago Roderick Harrison had seen a genuine wolf or two or twenty that now inspired delusions of werewolves in his confused mind.
If wishes were horses . . . What he wished for most was that he hadn’t seen the white wolf for himself. He wished he had never seen it become a tall blond man in the blink of an eye, or witnessed him discovering the woman on the floor. Douglas especially wished he had never heard that inhuman howl of unspeakable anguish. He had awakened twice this week in a sweat, with the howl ringing in his ears. Always, for the first few heart-pounding seconds at least, he was certain it was real and not in a dream. He poured another cup, mostly whiskey this time.
Werewolves. His father had never mentioned the subject again, at least not in his son’s hearing. But the old man had still gone out at night, alone, sometimes. He always took his guns. He invited Douglas once, but he stayed in bed under the blankets with his eyes squeezed tight and pretended to be asleep. His father had made a disgusted noise and never asked him again. Thank God. Being an accessory to one murder was enough. Two, said the little voice inside. Two murders, it was a double-murder. She was pregnant, just like Rosa. You watched your father do it, Dougie, watched him shoot her, kill her and her unborn child and you did nothing.
He drank the cup quickly, hoping to drown out that little voice, but he kept thinking about Dr. Descharme’s questions. Come to think of it, his father never said much about how he found out about the werewolves, only that he’d seen them often. Knew their habits, knew their secrets. But how? How did he know so much about them? And did he learn it before or after they killed his wife?
Filled with liquid courage, Douglas headed for his father’s room. He stood in the doorway and watched his father snore. The old man had been wild for the rest of the night after the lady vet had driven away. But when morning came, he was remarkably clear-headed. He’d dressed, eaten, then saddled his horse. He rode out and checked over the livestock, inspected the fences, as if there wasn’t a single thing wrong with him and never had been. Douglas wouldn’t let him drive no matter what, not even an ATV in the pasture—and God, he hated the fights they had over that—but his dad’s favorite horse was a sensible old mare who didn’t put up with any nonsense. If his dad slipped into an Alzheimer’s fog, the horse seemed to know. She simply brought him back to the house and stood there, waiting for someone to come out and get him.
Usually when Roderick Harrison had good days, he didn’t have good nights. At best he would thrash in uneasy dreams, murmur unintelligible words. Sometimes he would wake up screaming that the wolf was coming, that the white devil was going to get him. Douglas would have to comfort his father like a small child.
But not lately. Last night the old man had slept peacefully without waking, and thanks be to Jesus, it looked like he would do so again. For a moment Douglas contemplated the drink in his hands, considered pouring it out. If his father was sleeping, he might be able to as well . . . but the drink was his insurance against dreams. He took a quick swallow, then another and headed down the hall to his room, taking the glass with him.
The moon was high, and James was still standing on the porch. He hadn’t moved in an hour. Connor stood at the kitchen window, watching his brother and wondering for the hundredth time if he had done the right thing. He had argued hard for this decision, but it was James who had to make it. And he had. There would be no going back now.
Connor had called the family. Their parents, Ronan and Gwyn, were presently in Scotland, and one sister, Carlene, was in Wyoming. The rest lived here in Dunvegan and they were on their way.
He sensed the approach of Changelings in wolfen form, moving in swiftly from the southeast, heard the mental banter that hallmarked the twins, Culley and Devlin. He noted that their sister Kenzie was with them and knew that James heard them too and saw him stiffen. For a brief second Connor wondered if he’d pushed James too far, too fast. If he was going to Change or leave. Or both.
Quit worrying, Connor. Since when has anyone ever talked me into doing something I didn’t want to do? I made the decision and I’ll deal with it.
Connor’s throat tightened and his eyes stung as James sat slowly, deliberately, on the top step and waited for his family to find him.
Chapter Seventeen
“The cow had a little problem, that’s all. She threw a big calf. These things happen all the time with livestock. You’re not a cattle ran
cher, so I don’t expect you to understand.”
Jillian folded her arms and glared up at the dark-haired man. Gerald Mountney Junior looked too well dressed to be a serious farmer. Although his tanned face was almost magazine-cover perfect, she could see something worse than cruelty behind it. Indifference. “I understand that the cow had a prolapsed uterus. And it’s a hell of a lot more than a little problem when an animal in that condition doesn’t receive timely medical attention. It’s a wonder she isn’t dead.”
It was a veterinarian’s nightmare. Sometimes after a cow gave birth, the powerful contractions would push part of the actual uterus outside of the body, where it was susceptible to both massive infection and injury. As the responding vet, it was up to Jillian to wrestle the swollen, discolored organ back into place and put in the stitches that would hold it there. It had been a long, difficult, miserable job with no guarantee that the creature would survive. Her arms felt like spaghetti and would likely be sore for days.
“ ‘Medical attention’ is what I’m paying you for.” The smile became a hard line, the black eyes narrowed and glittered with anger. The smooth voice rose. “You just stick to your cutting and sewing, and leave the opinions to an experienced cattleman.” He began to push past her, but she quickly stepped in front of him.
“If you’re such an experienced cattleman, maybe you could explain to me why you dumped the cow in one of our corrals without telling anyone. And why you disappeared so we didn’t even know whose animal it was when we finally found it.” Jillian met the man’s eyes without a flinch. “And every experienced cattleman I know hangs around to give us a hand with their animal. They don’t drop it off like goddamn dry cleaning.”
His face was far less attractive when it was flushed purple with rage. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you have no fucking idea who you’re dealing with.”