Suddenly his heart stuttered as the animal within stirred. Mate. Mine.
James clapped a hand to his chest. Fiery pain exploded there as the wolf within tried to force the Change, tried to claw its way out, snarling and snapping. Mate. Mine.
Long moments passed before James was able to regain the reins of control. When it was over, he was kneeling in the straw, sweating profusely. The blood was pounding loudly in his ears, and his ribs felt like they'd been kicked repeatedly. "Jesus. Jesus Murphy. What in the goddamn hell was that?" The wolf was part of him, was him. It didn't have a mind of its own. Did it? Had he finally snapped? Had he been a wolf too long?
He drew a long shaky breath. Mate, the wolf had declared. That was ridiculous. It couldn't be that. It wasn't possible. Some Changelings were said to be able to recognize their future mates, but he didn't know any personally. There were stories in Changeling history about it, but he had always figured they were myths, the lupine equivalent of the human 'love at first sight' theme. Hollywood had always made money with that story line, probably still did. An uneasy thought crossed his mind that he had no idea if Hollywood was still around.
Besides all that, he didn't need a mate. He'd had a mate, had chosen her and loved her with all his heart, and because she had loved him back, she was dead. He wasn't going to let that happen again, had already resolved to live a solitary life. Yet the wolf continued to be focused on Jillian. Even obsessed. Had he slipped over the edge without knowing it, splintered into two personalities, the man and the wolf?
A truck pulled into the laneway and around to the bay. Connor. James had a momentary impulse to escape out the window but was instantly ashamed. His younger brother was a Changeling too, with all the senses and gifts that entailed. The moment he opened the door, he would be all too aware that James had been there. Undoubtedly Connor already knew that James had been here before. Better to be up-front about it, let Connor find me here. But he would find the wolf, not the man. James didn't plan on staying human one minute more than he had to. He sure didn't want his brother or anyone else to get used to seeing him in two-legged form.
* * * *
"Aha, just as I thought." Birkie dug between layers of stained melamine bowls and chipped glass ashtrays until she had a small dish in her hand. "I think this little treasure should go home with us."
Jillian squinted at it in the dim light. The garage ceiling was low, with only a single bulb hanging from it, giving the whole place a cave-like atmosphere. The dish in her friend's hand was shaped like a scallop shell, but there were lots of shell-shaped dishes in the world. Except for the fact that it was much dirtier than anything else in the garage--earth was crusted inside as if it had been used under a plant pot and there was even a dead fly stuck rakishly on the rim--she could see nothing special about it. "Um. It's interesting."
"Much more than interesting, hon." Birkie held it up and used a manicured thumbnail to gently scratch away the grime that obscured the mark on the bottom. Limoge, France.
Jillian's jaw dropped. "Is that what I think it is? How on earth did you know? You must have X-ray vision." She gestured helplessly at the cluttered stacks of mismatched dishes that covered every square inch of an eight-foot table. She felt like an archeologist on a dig. No, more like the archeologist's bumbling assistant who didn't have a clue what to look for. Birkie had already plucked an Austrian crystal candy dish from under a stack of plastic fast-food cups. She'd mined similar treasures from the other yard sales they'd visited that morning, all of which were lined up like trophies on the back seat of the truck. With them were Jillian's spoils--a couple of paperback books she knew she'd probably never get around to reading, a set of four glasses with cows on them, some extra spoons, and a TV table. She'd found a baseball bat at the last sale but conceded it to a little boy and his mom.
The older woman smiled. "It just takes practice, hon, and the love of a good bargain. So, back to your adventure with James. You were saying you just left him in the loft?"
"What else was I supposed to do? He's a grown-up. And if he wants to sleep in the hay, I can understand how that might be pleasant. Short-term, anyway. Although I don't understand why he's not staying with one of his brothers. I wondered if maybe he was a little, well, off or something, especially with the condition of his clothes."
"Were you afraid of him? You were eyeing that baseball bat."
"Yes ... no ... well, when he surprised me, I was scared spitless. But after that, no, I wasn't afraid. There's just something about him."
"Well, there's the fact that he's tall, blond, and handsome as sin. Could sure help a gal to overlook a lot." Birkie deliberately fluttered her lashes as her friend rolled her eyes. "Those Macleods always were a good-looking bunch."
Jillian latched onto that. "So, you've lived in this area a long time, you must have known James pretty much his whole life."
There was a pause as Birkie circled a couple of ads. "Not his whole life but quite a while, you could say. Say, aren't those eyes of his something else? You have to admit he has great eyes. Just like a ... like a--"
"Like a Viking? That's what I thought when I first saw him."
"I like that. Yes, he certainly would make a great Viking. All those muscles, and him so tall, too. I can just picture him on the deck of one of those dragon boats."
Suddenly Jillian could picture that, too. James dressed in leather, his belted tunic open to the waist so his muscled chest was clearly visible. His arms bare except for ornate bronze bands circling his thick biceps. Below the tunic would be powerful legs. She imagined they would have the same dusting of blond hair as his chest. And as for what was under the tunic... Jillian started and blinked to find her friend fanning her with an old calendar.
"Takes a girl's breath right away, doesn't he?"
"Oh, all right. I admit it, he's hot. Scorching, have-a-fire-extinguisher-with-you-at-all-times hot. Connor's gorgeous, too, but for some reason it's not the same. I don't daydream about him. And I did find myself wishing James would turn around for just a moment."
"What for?"
"So I could see if his butt matched the rest of him."
They both burst into helpless giggles then, and when other yard-sale enthusiasts turned to stare, giggled even harder. Still laughing, they staggered out into the sunshine, clutching each other's arms for support. Jillian finally had put her hand over her mouth to stifle herself while her friend counted out dollars to an elderly man basking in a lawn chair.
Back in Birkie's red pickup, Jillian asked, "So is he?"
"Is who?" Her friend was scanning the classifieds for their next yard sale. "And what?"
"James. Is something wrong with him? Mentally, I mean."
Birkie looked up quickly. "Good heavens, no. Not at all. In fact, James Macleod is as smart as they come. Believe me, the brains match the brawn in this case."
"And?" Jillian pressed. "Oh, come on, you have to give me some details. I'm the one who nearly had a heart attack over an intruder in my apartment. I'm the one who had years taken off her life when a man grabbed me in the loft. I deserve a little description here. If you have any compassion at all, you'll spill whatever juicy information you know."
"Well, I'm not sure that I remember very much. My memory …."
"Birkie!"
"Sorry dear, you're just so much fun to tease. Let's see now. James is an independent soul, very hardworking. Talented too--not many people have the knack for farming that he does. Crops or animals, doesn't matter. He's amazing at both. My Gram used to travel out to his ranch sometimes. They'd talk plants and herbs for hours."
"He has a ranch?"
"He and his wife did, on the other side of the valley. Near Spirit River actually. But it was sold a few years back. He's ... well, James has been away for some years now, hon."
"His wife? He's married?"
"Was." Birkie suddenly pointed to the newspaper. "Look at that! Enid Malkinson has herself a little sale going on. We've just got to say hi to her an
d Poodle before we grab a late lunch."
Jillian had to leave off fumbling with her seatbelt and grab the handle on the dash for balance as the red truck sped away from the curb and headed down the street. She liked the elderly Siamese cat and his owner, but right now they seemed to provide Birkie with a convenient diversion from her questions. So James was married once. Well, that happened to a lot of people. Not everyone stayed together. But she couldn't help but wonder why any woman would want to let him go. Did he snore? Did he squeeze the toothpaste wrong? Gamble? Drink? Womanize? James had seemed gruff, almost grouchy. Had he always been like that?
Birkie was still talking a mile a minute about Enid Malkinson. Jillian sighed inwardly and put her questions on a back burner. For now.
Chapter Ten
Connor clung to the top of the ladder, staring into the loft. Changelings had keen eyesight, but it was still a struggle to adjust to the late afternoon sunlight glaring hotly in the far window. He shaded his eyes, realized they still had that gritty ache of not enough sleep, even though he'd slept like the dead last night. It was sheer luxury having someone else on call instead of him, but he had been up at dawn just the same, tending to things on his own farm. Now he was in the middle of a very long list of errands, and picking up some udder balm and antibiotics from the clinic was one of them. Still, despite the distractions, the moment he crossed the threshold of the building, he had scented his brother.
James? James, what the hell are you doing up here? He spoke by thought, even though there was no one to overhear him.
Good hiding place. No hunters. There was a movement to Connor's left, and a white wolf raised its massive head, shook the straw from its face, and regarded Connor with its vivid blue eyes.
Connor climbed the rest of the way into the loft and sat beside the wolf, scratched behind the soft tulip-shaped ears even as he frowned over James' words. Wolves weren't a protected species here, but the forests surrounding Dunvegan were more likely to be filled with tourists than hunters at this time of year. Sounds like bullshit, James. Since when do you give a rat's ass about hunters? They'd never get close to you and we both know it.
The white wolf turned its head to the window.
Look, bro, don't get me wrong, you're welcome here--but why are you here? And for that matter, why did my brand new vet come in this week smelling like you and covered in white wolf hair? She's crazy about wolves so I'm sure it gave her a thrill to see you up close and personal, but it's not like you to run around revealing yourself to humans. What the hell's going on with you?
Don't know.
What do you mean, you don't know? Connor stopped himself then. Took a deep breath, then another. Sat down in the straw, shoving the great wolf over a little to make room. Let me try that again, James. It scared the living hell out of me to find out that a human has not only seen you, she's gotten close enough to touch you. You're usually so careful that even the Pack can't find you unless you want them to. I'm lucky to be able to find you--you're like smoke. I was sure thinking about trying it, though, because I wanted to make sure you're okay.
The creature unexpectedly laid its massive head on Connor's leg and gave a very human-like sigh. I don't know what the hell's going on. The wolf knows her, remembers her from somewhere, but I don't. There's this strange connection. The wolf knew when Jillian came to town. It couldn't know, but it did. It knew when she was here in the clinic, and it knew the moment she set foot in the forest.
Connor sat very still, his hand frozen in the thick white ruff. James was talking to him. Not in spare and stilted words but really talking, like ... like a human being, like James. It brought a tidal wave of emotion rolling up into his throat, but he swallowed it back hard, blinked away the moisture that sprang to his eyes, tried to focus on what his brother was saying, but it was damn hard. The words didn't quite make sense either. The wolf? What wolf?
The wolf, my wolf, has a goddamn mind of its own. I know how crazy that sounds but I swear it's acting on its own.
"Your wolf--" Connor was stunned, forgetting all about mind speech. For a Changeling, wolf and human were simply different facets of the same being, the same personality. But James had been a wolf for over three decades. Had that skewed some internal balance, maybe made the animal side stronger than the human? "I guess your wolf side is used to protecting you, doing things for you. But taking over and making decisions for you?" He suppressed a shiver. It was downright creepy to discuss the lupine persona as if it was a separate entity. "The wolf is still you, right? Deep down, it has to be."
I'm not certain anymore. Everything changed when Jillian showed up. The wolf is obsessed with her.
"I don't like the sound of that. First you tell me you're not in control of your wolf side, and then you tell me it's zeroed in on my new vet. And you still didn't explain how she got hair all over her. Tell me your alter ego didn't attack her or some damn thing."
I followed her when she was hiking, just wanted to see who she was, why the wolf was so aware of her. I hadn't planned to approach her but the wolf deliberately stepped out in front of her. It wanted to be seen. By her.
"Good Christ, that must have scared her to death."
No--that's the weird part. Turns out that she recognizes the wolf, she knows the wolf. She's not afraid of it, thinks of it as a friend. Says it helped her or something.
"And you don't remember doing a thing like that?"
I got this strange flashback, just for a second, where she was a lot younger and hurt somehow, hurt bad. But I can't remember anything else. And the wolf won't tell me ….
"What do you mean 'it won't tell you'? Look, bro, the way you're talking about your wolf side is really weirding me out."
How do you think I feel? Like Dr. Jekyll and goddamn Hyde. Tell me how the wolf knows things about her that I don't. It even knew her name, Connor. Damn wolf didn't bother telling me until a few days ago. And you know what else is strange? I can hear her. I can hear her in my mind just like I can hear you.
Connor gave a low whistle. "Holy-o shit. That doesn't happen very often."
I don't know what it means.
"It means that in addition to being the best damn vet I've seen in years, she has a few other talents, too. Telepathy is rare in humans but it's not unheard of. Most of them don't even know they have it. It doesn't necessarily mean anything." Connor didn't quite believe that, however. Not in light of everything else he was hearing. He scrubbed a hand over his face and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. What he really wanted to do was to throw his arms around his brother, punch him, wrestle with him, laugh, cry, and ask a million and one questions. But it sure didn't seem like the right time. The situation his brother had described was too disturbing on a number of levels. "So what are you doing here in the loft?"
Just trying to figure out why the wolf wants to be near Jillian. Guess I'm hoping Jillian will say something, do something that will trigger my memory.
"And when you remember, if you remember? Do you think that will fix things for your wolf?"
I don't know. Maybe not. At least I'll know what the wolf has in mind, what it wants.
"And what if you don't agree with the wolf? What if it can't have whatever the hell it wants? What if it just wants to follow Jillian around like a big dog forever and a day? That could be dangerous for both of you."
No! No, I won't do that. I won't endanger her. The massive creature stood and shook himself. I've already drawn that line, and the wolf won't cross it. I won't let it.
Considering the strange conversation they'd just had, Connor wasn't convinced that his brother could effectively leash his wolf nature, but resisted saying so. "Okay. For now, we'll play it your way. You know that my home is your home, and the same goes for the clinic. If it helps you to come here, fine, great. But I'm trusting you to be careful, damn careful, to stay out of sight. Understand?" Connor glanced at his watch and swore under his breath. "Look, I don't want to go, but I gotta get back and treat one of my cows. Sh
e's been climbing through the neighbor's wire fence to get into his clover field and picked up some nasty scratches on her belly and udders."
Best to get them before they're infected. Is it one of your Highland cattle or the little Jersey heifer?
Connor felt a lump the size of a basketball rise in his throat. Of course his brother had seen his farm, observed his livestock and made note of them, even if he was a wolf. Connor had nearly forgotten how gifted James had been as a farmer and rancher. Their father, Ronan, had often declared that his oldest son talked to the earth and its creatures, charmed and persuaded them to produce uncommon quality and yield for him. Connor knew the gift lay in James' ability to read the land and work with it. Whether it was crops or livestock, he understood the needs and strengths of both and wasn't satisfied until there was balance and harmony. James had loved that life. Did he ever miss it? Did he ever even think about it? Not trusting his voice, Connor switched back to mind speech. Before I go, I'll throw some bales so no one will have to climb up here for a while, but for God's sake, keep your head down, okay?
Head down. The wolf nosed his hand. Careful. Thanks, bro.
Connor didn't feel as reassured as he would like, but he tossed the bales down into the livestock area anyway. Timothy and alfalfa hay for feed, oat straw for bedding. More than the clinic could possibly use in a month. Climbed down after them and stacked them against a wall. "Later, James," he called out and got an answering yip from the loft. He drove off to attend to the rest of his errands with a lot more on his mind than when he started. His brother had spoken, really talked to him, and the years had simply fallen away. It was James and they were close again, as they had always been. I should be ecstatic. I should be doing frickin' cartwheels. Instead, he felt uneasy, as if he was missing something.
It wasn't until Connor was driving home that he identified the real source of the niggling disquiet he felt--ozone.
His eyebrows shot up, and he had to pull the truck to the side of the road for a few minutes to collect himself. Human to wolf or wolf to human, there was always a gathering of static electricity in the air during a Change, and with it came a faint telltale trace of ozone. The same scent that heralded thunderstorms, the same signature left behind by lightning. Had the white wolf tried to Change? Succeeded? Failed? And what did it mean? Connor didn't know, couldn't even guess. But he knew what he wanted to believe, what he hoped for. If you're trying to be human, James, don't stop. Don't give up. Fight for it, fight your way back to us.
Heart of the Winter Wolf Page 10