by Kathy Lyons
“Don’t be like that,” Laddin said. Then he stopped and squatted down in front of Bruce. “I know you’ve got a human mind in there. I know you’re not a dog. But a part of you is a wolf, and wolves like chasing things. So do it. Let yourself be a wolf right now. You’ll get back to human soon enough, but there’s something really joyous about chasing a stupid stick. It gives the mind a break.” He blew out a breath. “That’s something I think we could both use right now.”
It was the last part that got to him. Not the “be the wolf” mantra shit, but that Laddin needed the simplicity of throwing a stick for Bruce. Laddin thought he was helping Bruce, and that gave Laddin something to focus on—something other than what they’d just been through.
So fine. He could be the wolf for Laddin. And not because his lupine mind latched on to the next stick that Laddin launched into the air. He saw it soar and he took off after it like it was the answer to world peace. Or to fixing things up with his brother. Or to giving Laddin a reason to laugh.
He caught the stick after the first bounce. He snatched that stupid stick up and hauled ass back to Laddin, who was indeed grinning from ear to ear.
“Better?” he asked as Bruce dropped the stick at his feet.
Bruce didn’t answer, not because he couldn’t but because, yeah, maybe it had been fun to run like a rocket and he didn’t want to admit it. Laddin must have known, because he picked up the stick and launched it with a powerful stroke. Damn, he could throw.
Bruce took off, determined to catch the thing before it hit the ground. He didn’t come close, but he got the stick and was back before Laddin’s laughter faded.
They kept going like that, making steady progress back to the house. And as a bonus, the movement seemed to keep Laddin from getting too cold. But pretty soon the guy was shivering. It was time to pick up the pace. So the next time Laddin launched the stick into the air, Bruce didn’t follow it. Instead, he trotted behind Laddin and nipped at the man’s legs.
“Hey! What was that for?”
To get him running. But since he didn’t have words, he nipped at Laddin’s heels again, forcing him to jump forward.
“What are you—?”
Bruce woofed. It was a deep, short sound, echoing with command—the exact tone of voice he used with new firefighters with more strength than smarts. And when Laddin turned and dropped his hands on his hips in annoyance, Bruce woofed again. The man’s lips were blue, and his shoulders were up almost to his ears. He needed to start running now.
Woof, woof! Then he nipped at Laddin’s knees. And he kept nipping until Laddin started jogging backward.
That wasn’t exactly the plan, but at least it got Laddin moving. Bruce trotted beside Laddin, easily keeping pace. And then Laddin finally understood. He groaned, but he flipped around and started jogging steadily forward.
“You’re going to love Yordan,” Laddin muttered. Since Bruce didn’t have a mouth to ask the question, he simply head-butted Laddin’s rear end to make the guy move faster.
They made it to the house soon after that. Though Laddin didn’t seem too concerned, Bruce didn’t see any signs of sweat on the man, even after the run. That told him Laddin had been in dangerously cold territory, and he was grateful they’d finally made it inside. But once there, they had to slow down to take in the situation in front of them.
A woman in tight-fitting black leather was hunched over a man who currently resembled Two-Face. Half his features were stunningly gorgeous. The other looked like hamburger meat. Bruce recognized him as Bing, the one who had made him fall asleep in the van way back when.
A large guy Bruce didn’t know hovered nearby. His hands shook and his body was covered in dark goo as he harassed the woman. The big man didn’t look hurt, per se, but it was hard to tell, given all the crap on him.
“Can you fix his face? He’s an actor, you know. His face is important. I mean, he’s important, but he’s not going to die, right? But he’s going to want to die when he realizes his face is….” He swallowed as he looked down at the man stretched out on the couch. “Actually, Bing, it’s not so bad,” he said, though the lie was obvious to anyone with a brain. “You’ll be fine.” His gaze hopped back to the woman. “Right? He’ll be fine.”
Bruce had seen it before—the shock a person felt after a disaster. It left people muttering about the most ridiculous stuff to cover how terrified they were. Yes, Bing’s face was important, but mostly the big one just wanted his friend to live. Fortunately, the woman was obviously a seasoned first responder. She didn’t speak, and Bruce doubted she heard much of anything as she clutched something in her hand and muttered. Her eyes were shut and one hand rested gently on Bing’s chest.
Meanwhile, Laddin jolted forward. “What happened?” There was no response. Big Guy was staring at Bing, but Laddin moved quickly to the counter, where he grabbed a washcloth from a bowl of water. Then he crossed back to dab at the big man’s goo-covered lip, which, now that Bruce looked closer, was definitely swollen.
It wasn’t exactly the first choice in health-care assessment. Bruce would be taking vitals and getting the man to talk about what hurt and what didn’t. But Laddin wasn’t a paramedic. But he wasn’t stupid either as he spoke in a sharp tone.
“Yordan! Where do you hurt?”
The man jolted and glared at Laddin. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “It’s Bing—” His voice broke on the word.
“You’re not fine,” Laddin said. “What happened?”
“Bing tried to hypnotize a lich.”
“A zombie sorcerer? Seriously?”
“We thought that since the undead asshole used to be human, Bing’d be able to woo-woo the thing into submission.” He swallowed, and his gaze grew haunted. “I should have known that he couldn’t do it with the undead. I should have kept him back.”
“He wouldn’t have listened,” Laddin said as he continued to wash the black stuff off Yordan’s face. Then he jerked his head toward the woman. “Is she the cleric?”
Yordan nodded. “She was here for Wulfric and….” He swallowed. “Well, we came to find her.”
Bruce turned to study the woman more closely. In that form-fitting leather, she looked like a biker babe fantasy. Though he could smell smoke, blood, and any number of other disaster stinks on her, she seemed calm as she held something in her hand and exhaled in steady breaths.
That totally pissed him off. She should be putting compresses on Bing’s face. She should be checking his vitals. She should be doing any one of a zillion other things instead of just bowing her head and… what? Praying? Of all the ridiculous, useless, stupid—
His thoughts trailed away as Bing’s face began to knit. The burns smoothed, and though the blood didn’t disappear, the skin beneath it grew upward from raw muscle to pale gray, then flushed pink skin. It made Bruce gasp, but no more than everyone else. Bing took a deep breath, the kind one takes when the painkillers finally kick in. Except he hadn’t been given any drugs. And his face was healed.
Once Bing took that breath, Yordan’s head snapped up. His expression flooded with gratitude deep enough to spark tears, which he wiped away with unsteady hands. Laddin exhaled too as he patted Yordan’s massive shoulder.
“See. All better.”
“Yeah,” Yordan breathed. “Yeah.”
Meanwhile, the woman looked up, her expression serene. “He’ll be fine, but he needs to rest. Now what about you?” she asked as she looked at Yordan.
“I’m good. Really. Save your prayers for someone who needs them.”
She snorted as she put her necklace back on. That was what she’d been holding in her hand—a silver crucifix that looked dainty nestled against all that dark leather. “I’m fresh out anyway. I was going to see if you needed a hospital.” Then she looked at Laddin. “Hi, I’m Cara, mystical healer. Are you the paramedic?”
Laddin shook his head. “Not me. Him,” he said, pointing to Bruce.
Everyone looked at him, and he straightened up to his
full height. Except he was a wolf, which meant he stood there looking stupid. And that was exactly the look she gave him.
“Well?” she prompted. “You planning to lick the wounds better?”
He flushed. Or he would have, if he’d been human. Only he wasn’t.
He tried. He really tried to switch back to being a man. He visualized himself standing up to his impressive height. He thought of all the times he’d been needed out in the field. The car accident victims he’d treated, the house fires he’d help put out. Hell, he’d delivered three babies over his career and held them against his own chest to keep them warm. All of those memories flashed through his mind. He was damned good in a crisis, and yet all he could do right now was stand there with his tongue hanging out.
Fucking hell!
Meanwhile, Laddin shuffled his feet. “He’s new. He hasn’t gotten the hang of switching back and forth yet.”
Cara straightened up, and Bruce heard the crackle of her knees. He knew that sound. Knew the soft grunt when a body kept functioning long after it needed to rest. He could help her. As a paramedic, he could take some of the load off, if only he was a man. And yet try as he might, he remained exactly where he was: on four paws.
“Typical man,” she groused. “When you need his help, he’s a dumb animal.”
Bruce growled in response—dark and ugly, and mostly directed at himself. What the fuck? He was a man.
“Don’t growl at me,” she snapped. “Either get it together or get out of my way.”
How many times had he said the exact same thing to a new firefighter? Either help or get out of the way. He was trying!
“Don’t bother” came a voice from behind him.
Josh. Bruce whipped around to see his little brother dropping a backpack onto the floor so he could lace up his boots. He was wearing a field uniform, and damn if that didn’t look good on him. But it had obviously never been worn before, which told Bruce that Josh was new to the first responder game, and that was terrifying. Because his brother didn’t have that kind of skill. He thought things through too well. Fieldwork was all about gut reaction, and his brother lived in his head.
But though Bruce took a step toward the guy, Josh was already dismissing him.
“Bruce won’t help unless there’s some glory in it.” Then he glanced up at Cara. “Or he’s trying to get laid.”
That wasn’t true! He hadn’t been about the glory or the sex in years—if ever. Even firefighter groupies got old when the tragedies became real. He was a fireman because he was good at it. He saved lives. But none of those words made it to his mouth.
Meanwhile Cara snorted. “One of those, huh?”
No!
“Yeah,” Josh said as he looked him dead in the eye. “And obviously useless as a werewolf.”
She chuckled as she looked back at Bruce with pitying eyes. “Don’t sweat it, puppy. Some of us aren’t cut out for this kind of work.”
The dismissive look cut deep. He’d said those words before to kids who’d never made it as a firefighter. Don’t worry, kid. It happens. Not everyone is cut out to be a firefighter. Go find something that you’re good at, because you sure as hell aren’t one of us.
But he was cut out for it. He’d been on the front lines for years—far longer than his brother, who was right then offering Cara an earpiece. He had another for Nero, who grabbed it out of the backpack and popped it in like a pro. Because they were pros.
“What the hell is that stink?” Nero asked as he looked around. “It smells like rancid dog.”
“Fairy cheese,” Laddin said. “Pixies.”
Nero cursed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t there be pixies that smell like rotten cheese?”
Cara grabbed a heavy mace from the corner and dropped it on her shoulder. She handled it like it was a designer purse, but it looked like it weighed a ton. “All the magical whatsits are showing up. We think they’re drawn to the dead zone.”
“Are the fairies an imminent threat?” Nero asked Laddin.
Tell him about your promise. Tell him you made a deal with them.
“I’m handling them.”
No! No, you’re not!
“Good. Look, I know it’s not your job, but we need someone here to coordinate with the home office, to keep them up to date on Wulfric’s progress and a few other things, at least until Bing and Yordan are back up. Do you mind helping out?”
“Of course not,” said Laddin.
Nero nodded his thanks and handed over a small tablet. “Wulfric and his mother are there and there.” He pointed to two bedrooms. “Bing and Yordan.” He pointed at two more. “Stratos and Wiz are going to stay by the lake because we’ve got other wounded wolves taking their rooms. That means you’ll have to bunk in the barn.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you stink, and they’re sick.”
Josh looked up from a tablet he’d pulled from his backpack. “It’s really bad, Laddin. The stench is—”
“I know.” Laddin sighed. “It’s in his fur.”
“Then get him to shift or get outside.” That came from Nero, but everyone was looking at Bruce as if he were a dirty toddler who’d messed his pants.
Bruce looked back. With every fiber of his being, he wished himself human. He’d been trying before, but this was like a wish to live, a need to breathe, a hunger for power or respect or any fucking thing he’d ever wanted in his entire life all rolled together in one desperate plea. I’m a man!
But he wasn’t. He remained a stinky, useless, mute dog.
The woman snorted. “Typical.” Then she lifted her phone up and snapped a picture.
Bruce bristled. Did she think he was a show dog? Would she pass his picture around to her friends and laugh at the wolf who smelled like fairy cheese?
“Did you just catch a Pokémon?” Josh asked as he looked over her shoulder at her cell.
“Don’t judge,” she said as she pocketed her cell. “It’s the only way I get my mother out of the house. I won’t trade with her unless she catches a few of her own.”
“I’m not judging,” Josh answered, his voice filled with admiration. “I wish I’d thought to do the same. Anything cool out here in Wisconsin?”
“I just got a Gyarados. What have you got?”
They wandered off together, talking Pokémon in the same way Bruce and the other firefighters talked about sports. Nero followed behind, grumbling good-naturedly about geeks and their games. Meanwhile, Laddin was on his phone, doing his job coordinating with someone. Yordan and Bing were shuffling off together to their beds, though it was more like Bing was walking and Yordan was shuffling.
And Bruce stood there, completely ignored. Hell, he wasn’t even cutting it as amusement. Cara had been playing Pokémon Go, not taking his picture. Never in his life had he been so completely dismissed. As a kid, he’d been big and could fight. As an adult, he had valuable skills and an imposing presence.
But what was he now? A stinking dog.
The humiliation of it all burned in his gut and came out as a low whine. Laddin heard it, of course, but he was on the phone. All he could do was turn and give Bruce a sympathetic smile—the kind given to kids and very frail elders. Sorry you’re helpless, but please be quiet while the useful people work. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.
He’d never hated himself more.
No! God damn it, he was not going to drop into self-pity or self-loathing. That was not his style. Maybe he didn’t have hands or instruments, but he could see and smell. There was a ton of stuff he could notice with those two senses. And if there was a problem, he could bark.
That was what he’d do. He’d be useful with the ability he had. So he padded away from Laddin, who was busy on the phone.
The first thing he did was look in on Yordan and Bing. Yordan looked pale and exhausted, but he was waving away a healthy Bing with a weak hand. “Lie down yourself. Magical healing is still exhausting. You may be pretty again, but I’ll bet you’re dreaming a
bout taking a nap.”
“If you do the same,” Bing answered. Then he turned and wrinkled his sharply etched nose at Bruce. “God, it’s true. You Americans stink.”
“It’s not me,” grumbled Yordan as he collapsed on a bed. “Get out of here, mutt.”
Then, before Bruce could muscle his way in just to prove he could, Bing shut the bedroom door right on his nose.
Fine. They didn’t look like they needed anything other than rest. He’d make himself useful with Wulfric.
It was hard turning the doorknob with his paws—in fact, he couldn’t do it at all, so he tried with his mouth. All he managed to do was to slobber all over the thing. He was about to ram the door in frustration when someone opened it from the inside.
He hopped back only to stare at the most ethereal beauty he’d ever seen. She was a pale brunet with dark mahogany eyes, small bones, and fair white skin. She said something in a language he didn’t understand, and damned if she didn’t look like an elven queen as she held her hand to her nose and waved him back.
He tried to muscle past her, but he didn’t want to hurt her, and she wasn’t budging. She seemed to have a vein of steel inside her, for all that she looked light enough to ride a stiff wind. And then came the ultimate insult, as she backed him up enough to shut the bedroom door behind her. Damn it, there was no way he could check on Wulfric now. He needed hands!
“You belong outside,” she said firmly. “You’re going to make everyone sick with that stink and—” She abruptly quieted as Wulfric coughed from inside the bedroom. She waited in tense silence to see if it would repeat. It didn’t, so she turned back to him. “My son needs his rest, and you’re only making things worse.”
So this was Wulfric’s mother. Wow. She looked even younger than Wulfric. And they were both supposed to be more than two hundred years old? Way cool, except he was a paramedic. He needed to check on Wulfric. He yipped at her, irritation in the sound.
“Yes, I know you’re a werewolf,” she said. “But you’re a problem with that smell, and we need solutions.” Then she grabbed him by the ruff in a vise-like grip. He tried to shake her off, but he didn’t want to hurt her. That meant that biting was out too. And hell, she was strong as she dragged him to the front door.