by R. J. Blain
Deep within the house, I heard the creak of floorboards under foot, likely too soft for human ears.
“FBI,” Karma barked before knocking again.
A door at the back of the house slammed, and I sighed. “Routine, huh?”
“Shut up,” my partner hissed before diving off the porch, yanking her gun from her holster, and running for the fence. She slowed and gathered herself, jumped for the fence taller than she was, and vaulted over it. My jaw dropped, and I lost several seconds wondering how the hell she’d done it before I burst into motion and went around the other side of the house.
I jumped the fence, too, landing in a thick tangle of weeds. Had the yard been maintained, the pool would have been a nice addition rather than looking more like a toxic wasteland full of brown water probably infested with snakes.
Either by luck or chance, a bedraggled white man in sweats headed my direction.
“FBI!” I drew my gun in a smooth motion. “Hands where I can see them.”
Instead of obeying, he turned tail and ran straight for Karma. They collided, and she ended up grappling with him while I sprinted the distance to catch up. With a wince-inducing thump, he rammed his elbow into my partner’s gut, knocking her aside and straight into the pool.
She disappeared into the murky water with a splash, and without missing a beat, our suspect headed straight for the house and disappeared through the door. I made it two steps in his direction, spat curses, and twisted around to head to the pool. I hit the concrete with my knees hard enough I yipped, leaned over, and dunked my left arm into the water.
A fucking snake bit me, latching onto my forearm with its fangs. My first grab, Karma flailed, and I lost my hold. My second, I ended up tangling my fingers in her hair. Hair could grow back, so I yanked her head up and out of the water. She choked, and instead of the gasping breaths I wanted to hear, she gurgled.
Gurgling was not good. Sparing the second to holster my gun, I hauled her out, hoped she’d forgive me for what I was about to do, and drove my fist into her gut.
The damned snake dangled from my arm while she hacked up pond scum.
“All right?”
She spluttered, gasped in several lungfuls of air, and bobbed her head. “He’s getting away.”
“We’ll put out a call he’s to be brought in. We’ll catch him.”
On the other side of the house, I heard an engine growl to life, the crunch of gravel, and the squeal of rubber on asphalt. Keeping hold of Karma with one hand while she fought to catch her breath, I grabbed my radio with the other, the snake dangling from my arm with no sign of letting go anytime soon.
The problem with being a Fenerec was my dubious relationship with the local wildlife. Certain breeds of dogs tolerated Fenerec reasonably well, including working dogs favored by the police. Cats usually hated me, although I’d met the occasional individual who wanted nothing more than to be my friend.
Every snake I’d ever met wanted me dead, and the one dangling from my arm was no exception. Since killing the damned thing would land me in trouble with my animal-adoring boss, I grabbed it by the back of the head and held on, waiting for the instant it decided to stop biting me.
Karma coughed a few extra times, got to her feet, and scowled at her missing heel. Then she took one look at the snake and yelped. “Copperhead!”
Well, shit. I’d heard about copperheads, one of Maryland’s two venomous snake species. Of course I’d found one while fishing my partner out of a disgusting pool neglected so much it classified as a pond. Sighing, I regarded my new attachment. “Does that mean I can kill it without the boss flipping her lid?”
Instead of answering me, Karma grabbed her gun, cleared the chamber, dumped the magazine, and jammed the barrel into the snake’s mouth, prying it off my arm. Then, she reloaded her weapon, turned my hand to the side, took aim, and fired.
All right. Apparently, my partner’s solution to a venomous snake was to shoot its head off and leave me holding its corpse. “That may have been a bit of an overreaction.”
“In a few minutes, you may begin experiencing pain, throbbing, or tingling at the wound site, potential difficulty breathing, vomiting or nausea, blurred vision, and possibly numbness.” Karma pulled my jacket off, and amused by her reaction, I let her, tossing the dead snake onto the concrete while she worked.
The two puncture wounds bled a lot more than she liked, and she scowled at the wound. Instead of bothering to go for her radio, she grabbed mine.
My wolf adored her concern, and while I was tempted to tell her it’d take a lot more than a snake bite to down me, my wolf wanted me to keep my mouth shut. I did. When else was she going to display any sort of concern for me? I’d savor the moment and try not to laugh too hard over the snake biting me while I’d been fishing her out of a disgusting pool.
Once done on the radio, Karma sighed and ran her hand through her hair. She found something that made her eyes widen and her face pale even more. She peeled something dark, long, and slimy off her head.
A slug. I opened my mouth to laugh.
Karma fainted and slumped towards the pool. In my effort to prevent her from falling in, I grabbed for her. Losing my balance on the concrete edge, I teetered, I tottered, and held on just long enough to shove her towards the grass before I splashed in with a curse.
The pool had served as a dumping ground for a lot of garbage, which in turn copperheads had nested in. I made close acquaintances with three of them before I climbed out. Slugs, snails, and thick green slime covered me head to toe.
Like the copperhead Karma had killed, the rest of its family viewed me with extreme prejudice, biting the shit out of me before two made their escape and I managed to kill the other one. Karma had been right. The bastards packed a punch, and with so much venom coursing through me, it took all of five minutes for the throbbing pain to start, which in turn triggered nausea I wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.
I had managed to peel off all the slugs and snails and toss them into the pond before the sound of sirens warned me we would have company soon. My partner remained sprawled on the grass, her breathing slow and steady. I took my chances and patted her cheeks until she woke up.
She took one look at me, screamed, and launched straight into orbit, scrambling to the other side of the lawn. Gaping at her, I rose to my feet, shaking my head to clear my vision. “Karma?”
“Sl-sl-sl…”
“What?”
She pointed at my head. Patting my hand over my hair, I located a tiny slug I had missed. Sighing, I lobbed it back into the pool and its pile of garbage where it belonged. “You’re afraid of slugs. I get the shit bit out of me by a bunch of copperheads, and it’s the slug that scares you?”
Her face turned beet red, and she pressed her back to the fence, shaking her head in denial.
Several deep breaths confirmed her fear went beyond anything normal, so I sighed and startled peeling out of my bulletproof vest and shirt to make certain I had no more hitchhikers. I found three, and I tossed them all back into the pool. I was wringing out my shirt when the Baltimore police showed up.
“We got a call from a neighbor of shots fired. Everyone okay?” the older man asked, locating the gate into the yard and wrestling it open.
“Copperhead,” I informed him. “My partner decided the best way to get rid of it was to blow its head off.”
“That’s one way to do it. You get bit?”
I counted puncture wounds. I stopped counting after five. “I’d say so. I’ll be fine.”
Probably. I’d probably be fine. I’d probably be fine sometime after my stomach stopped churning and my body no longer throbbed. Grimacing, I put my shirt back on although I neglected to button it. I suspected I’d end up without my pants or my shirt once I got my turn to ride in an ambulance.
My parents were not going to be very pleased with me.
“And the suspect?”
“Drove off after he shoved my partner into the pool, which happen
s to be where the nest lives. He got away while we were dealing with the angry copperheads.”
“Never a dull moment when you FBI types show up. How many times were you bitten?”
“Not sure. More than once. I’m Jake. My partner’s Karma. We’ve got a search and arrest warrant for Mike Dulaney, who lives at this property. We knocked, and the instant we announced we were with the FBI, he ran for it. We jumped the fence, he decided he didn’t want to get physical with me, and got into a scuffle with Karma. She ended up in the pool with the snakes, and he escaped through the house while I helped her out.”
The police didn’t need to know she couldn’t swim. I suspected her pride had been damaged enough.
“You better call in for backup from your division. If you’ve been bitten by several copperheads, it’s to the ER with you. One bite ain’t too bad, but several can lead to trouble quick.”
I pulled out my cell phone and grimaced at the dead screen. With my parents the Alphas of a large pack of Fenerec, most of whom served within the FBI and other law enforcement scattered throughout Baltimore and Washington, the Inquisition kept track of me through my phone in case of emergencies.
I wouldn’t have to call for backup. In the worst-case scenario, twenty minutes after my phone had shorted out, someone would be paying a visit to make sure I was among the living. Considering my tumble into the pool, I placed my bets on the phone having already triggered its emergency beacon.
Wonderful.
“My phone’s dead,” Karma reported.
“Mine, too.”
The cop sighed, pulled one out of his pocket, and offered it to me.
A snake hissed in the grass and lunged for me, landing a bite on my calf before I could kick it away. I spat curses at it, and my partner whipped her gun out of its holster, aimed, and fired once. My eyes widened as she blew its head off from a distance of at least thirty feet from a cold draw.
“Nice shot, ma’am,” the cop said, saluting my partner.
She blew pretend smoke off her gun before holstering it. “You all right, Jake?”
“Sure. I’m just dandy,” I lied, lifting my pant leg to regard my new, bleeding bite with a grimace. “Just fine.”
In less than an hour, I caved and acknowledged there was nothing fine with my situation. Thanks to being a Fenerec, most medications simply didn’t work on me. Morphine would, if given in doses enough to kill a regular human four times over, help a little bit. I dodged hospitalization, pretending to feel a lot better than I did. Karma temporarily dumped the hunting of Mike Dulaney on several of our co-workers and the Baltimore police before she insisted on following me around.
Every time I looked at her, her face turned a delightful pink.
“While I had been warned you weren’t a very good swimmer, I hadn’t realized that meant you really couldn’t swim, period,” I commented without looking up from the paperwork I signed stating the hospital wasn’t responsible for anything that happened to me when I left.
“People try to teach me, it just doesn’t stick. I sink,” she whispered.
“I also had no idea you were that good of a shot.”
Her blush intensified. “I spend a lot of time at the range.”
“It shows. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine!” she blurted.
If her face turned any redder, I worried she’d faint again without the help of slugs scaring her half to death. I had my work cut out for me. Keeping her from water would be difficult. Fortunately, slugs weren’t that common to come across, as long as I kept an eye out for her in gardens, forests, near ponds, near rivers or lakes, and otherwise near anything outdoors.
Who the hell was I kidding? We had a higher chance of running into the average garden slug than a criminal out for our blood. How had she managed to hide such a phobia for so long? Were slugs as scared of her as she was of them?
“Since I shouldn’t drive for a day or two, mind running me to the store before we head back to the office?”
“I don’t mind driving you to the store, but shouldn’t you go home instead of back to work?”
“Just because I should doesn’t mean I will.”
“Jake.”
I grinned at having made her use my first name. “Yes?”
“You’re going home. And just like the doctor ordered, someone will stay with you for twelve hours. Apparently, that someone will be me, since I don’t know anyone else who would be willing to put up with you for that long. I’ll take you to the store to replace your phone, but that’s it.” She frowned. “Maybe the grocery store. Do you have food at your house?”
“I promise you I’m fully capable of fending for myself.”
“Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Someone is staying with you.”
My wolf loved the thought of my partner coming into our den, leaving traces of her scent behind. I disliked it; if any of the pack visited, they might be able to figure out who she was and that my wolf and I were invested. The thought of competing with the other unmated males was almost enough to annoy a growl out of me. “I’d prefer if we just went back to the office.”
“Not happening. Stop being a baby, finish your paperwork, grab your stuff, and let’s get out of here. I’m taking you home, and that’s final.” Karma scowled at me, planted her hands on her hips, and waited.
Even covered in pond sludge, her white shirt stained brown, gray, and green, her hair matted and plastered to her head, she was magnificent. My wolf adored how she refused to back down, meeting my gaze without any evidence of being intimidated by the wildness lurking beneath my skin.
Most humans grew uncomfortable within moments of making eye contact with me.
“All right. At least let me replace my cell on the way home.”
She relaxed. “I already said I would take you. Now, finish your paperwork so we can get out of here. I’ve spent enough time in the hospital to last me a lifetime.”
Amused by her determination, I obeyed.
To maintain the illusion I had a standard phone, I bought a new one, waited for Karma to be occupied picking out a phone for herself, and acquired a new number. It would annoy me carrying around two cell phones, but I’d make do. While Karma scowled at the selection, I dialed my father’s number.
“Thomas,” my father snapped.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Where the hell are you?”
I grimaced. When Dad started cursing, it was bad news for someone—me. “Sorry. A suspect decided to run when we paid him a visit, and he got into a scuffle with my partner. We ended up taking a swim. We just left the hospital. I’m on a new phone.”
“Did she get hurt again?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Did you get hurt?”
“I may have gotten bitten by a copperhead or two.”
“I’ll be at your house in an hour.”
“Could you not? I think my partner has the situation under control.”
“Oh?”
“The doctor said I needed to be supervised, and she took this to mean I’m helpless and it’s her responsibility to provide the supervision.”
“That’s an improvement from glaring at you all the time and wishing you’d leave her alone. So, progress has been made?”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop snooping, Dad. Anyway, you don’t need to come—”
“If your father is going to meet you at your house, he can be your supervision,” Karma contributed without looking up from the store’s selection of phones. “Can he be there within an hour or so? You live in Davidson, right?”
“Yeah, I live in Davidson.”
“Hour and a half, then.”
“You just want to get rid of me, don’t you?” I accused.
“No, I just want to go back to the office, borrow Roy, and start collecting evidence so I have something for you to work on tomorrow. You can go over digital records if you want to be useful until you�
��re not staggering around like you’re drunk. If your father’s at your home when we arrive, I’ll just drop you off and go back to work.”
My wolf whined his disappointment in my head, but since she sounded reasonable—and had the tone of voice indicating she wasn’t going to change her mind—I surrendered to her wishes with a nod. “All right, Dad. We should be there in an hour and a half. If you’re there, she’ll head back to work and handle the towering paperwork she left on my desk this morning.”
“Asshole,” my partner muttered.
Mom’s Jag was parked beside Dad’s SUV, warning me I’d be getting a double dose of parental trouble. Karma pulled her SUV as close to the walkway as possible, putting the vehicle in park. “Call me if you need anything, all right?”
“Will do. Can you move my SUV into the overnight lot for me?”
“Sure. Anything inside you want me to move to your desk?”
“It should be good. Thanks for the lift, Karma.”
“No problem. Get some rest. If you’re feeling better tomorrow and need a ride, give me a call.”
“I’ll take you up on that.” Getting out, I closed the door, thumped the roof, and stepped away from the vehicle. Digging my keys out of my pocket, I strode to my front door and let myself in.
The instant I crossed the threshold, Karma backed out of my driveway and drove away.
A low growl drew my attention away from the front window, and I turned to face my father, who stood with his hands in his pockets and his eyes narrowed. “Hi, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“Your kitchen, cursing your lack of appliances and your inferior knives. You’re getting roast for dinner, soup if you can’t handle the roast. How the hell did you get bitten by a copperhead? Is there any reason you decided against notifying the Inquisition of your whereabouts, thus creating unnecessary panic?”
“I was busy.”
“How, exactly, were you busy?”
“Heading to the hospital for starters. Can we not do this right now, Dad? I feel like shit.”