Born to Be Wild (The Others, Book 15) Mass Market Paperback

by Christine Warren

  Eli hadn’t signed any permits in more than a week.

  He expected that he’d have to lecture a bunch of teenagers on the laws and responsibilities of building fires in the woods and maybe even confiscate a few illegally obtained six-packs. Then another quick lecture on under-aged drinking—he had that one down so pat, he could recite it in his sleep—and he could get back to the real reason he’d come out here tonight. At least, that was the plan until the smell of the smoke changed from acidic to acrid, wood fuel and pine kindling suddenly overpowered by the stench of burning fur and charring flesh.

  He broke into a run.

  Within a few hundred feet he began to hear voices, not the boisterous sounds of partying delinquents, but adult voices filled with the deep, thick rumble of anger. His hand moved immediately to the top of his holster and he slowed his pace, deliberately softening his footfalls until even he could barely hear them over the muffled sound of conversation.

  His fingers tightened when he neared the edge of a small break in the trees and saw the bright glow of firelight seeping into the surrounding dark of the forest. Within the space of several long strides, he could make out the size and shape of the fire and begin to feel the heat against his face.

  It was a bonfire, more than four feet in diameter, with flames that leapt at least ten feet into the air. In the center, Eli could see a dark lump resting atop a bed of logs, and around its perimeter at least three or four men circled, continuing to add more fuel to the already raging inferno.

  Catching sight of one particular face, Eli swore under his breath and took his hand away from his weapon. He stepped forward into the clearing.

  “What the hell is going on here, Cobb?” he demanded.

  The face that turned in his direction was taut and set with visible fury. Above the square, clenched jaw, Lupine golden eyes blazed nearly as bright as the fire.

  “I’m taking care of my dead, Pace,” Rick Cobb growled, his body turning into a confrontational angle. “I’m going to advise you not to interfere.”

  Eli’s gaze flicked again to the dark form atop the blazing fire, and he felt himself scowling. “Who?”

  “Sammy Paulson. He was found out here this morning by another member of the pack. He had collapsed at the foot of an old-growth pine and was cold by the time we stumbled across him.”

  The name rang a bell, and it took only seconds for Eli to connect it to a tall, lanky teenager with fair hair and a decent head on his shoulders. He hadn’t stuck in the sheriff’s memory because of past misdeeds, but because he’d been a good kid from a good family whose members always did their part to help out the community.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. What happened? Was he sick?”

  “We don’t get sick.”

  “You know what I mean. I’m not talking swine flu; I’m talking cancer.”

  “No, he was a normal Lupine kid. Chris Meadows is the one who found him.” Rick gestured toward the two men tending the fire. “He came out here for a run and almost tripped over . . . it. He came and got Lucas and me immediately. Of course, we assumed he’d had an accident or been attacked, but from what the three of us can tell there wasn’t a mark on him. His neck wasn’t broken; hell, his claws weren’t even chipped. So we have no fucking clue why he’s not out catching footballs instead of catching fire.”

  Eli’s gaze flicked to the funeral pyre, and he winced as he saw the young wolf’s limbs begin to curl back on themselves from the heat of the flames. “If you’d ease up on tradition for once, we might be able to find out. We could have an autopsy done. Or we could have had.”

  The Stone Creek tradition of burning the dead dated back far enough that no one knew when it had started, or precisely why. Some speculated about a possible connection to pre-Columbian Viking explorers, and some pointed out that in a forest, it was easier to burn than to dig; either way, the practice was an old one, and a deeply honored one.

  Rick shook his head, firelight glinting off the light brown strands. “No. He wasn’t a cub anymore. He deserved to be treated with dignity. He deserved to have his smoke spread to the stars. It’s what his mother asked us to do.”

  It didn’t take great empathic abilities to read the rage and bitterness in the Lupine’s voice. Rick Cobb might have been Alpha of his pack for only a few years, but he took his duties to heart. Eli suspected, actually, that duty to the Stone Creek Clan was Rick’s heart, and he knew that the loss of any pack member wounded. Which made the next words out of his mouth taste so damn bitter.

  “Normally, I would agree with you, but the current circumstances aren’t what I would call normal,” he said, catching the Alpha’s gaze. “You really should have returned my calls before now, Rick.”

  The flames that flashed in the Lupine’s gaze had nothing to do with the reflection of a bonfire. “Well, excuse me, but I was a little busy today, Sheriff,” he snarled. “You see, I had to find a member of my pack dead on the forest floor for no known reason, and then I had to break the news to his mother that her only cub wouldn’t be coming home again—ever—and ask her what arrangements she wanted to make for his corpse, so you might say I had a lot on my plate.”

  “And you might say that I’m about to serve you another helping.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s why I called you last night, and left you three more messages today. Sammy Paulson isn’t the only member of your pack who’s gone down in the woods lately.”

  The Alpha’s response to that news didn’t bear repeating, but it did prompt Eli to quickly and quietly outline the situation with the unconscious Lupine he’d delivered into Josie’s care. “Any idea who it might be?” he concluded.

  “No, but give me ten minutes and you can be damn sure I’ll find out.” Pulling a cell phone from the pocket of his jeans, the Alpha flipped it open, then looked back at the sheriff. “You don’t think they’re related, do you? Sammy and the female you found last night?”

  Eli hesitated, waiting to see who would win the war between his head and his gut. Stalemate.

  “I don’t see how,” he finally said, forcing out the reluctant conclusion. “The female was shot, either accidentally or on purpose, and we have no way of knowing that Sammy didn’t have some kind of heart defect or something that caused him to collapse. Shifters might be immune to a lot of contagious diseases, but we aren’t immortal, and there’s a lot of leeway between a germ and a congenital anomaly.”

  Rick looked as dissatisfied to hear that as Eli had been to say it. “Maybe, but I wouldn’t exactly call myself a happy camper right now.”

  “Me neither.”

  The Lupine sighed. “I need to make some calls.”

  “Right. Do you plan to come to Dr. Barrett’s office? Take a look at the patient yourself?”

  “Not tonight. There are still things that need to be done here. But as soon as I find out who she might be, I’ll send someone over.”

  “I’m sure the doctor will appreciate that.”

  “Tell her she can expect me tomorrow, though. Whoever she’s got in her office, I’m going to want to see for myself.”

  Eli nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” He took a step back and nodded toward the fire. “If you or Mrs. Paulson needs anything, you know where to find me.”

  Rick’s mouth twisted ruefully. “You know, that’s your biggest problem, Eli: Everyone always knows where to find you.”

  Turning away, Eli snorted and started back into the forest. His search through the shooting site could wait until daylight. With the area taped off by his deputy earlier in the day, he was reasonably comfortable that no one would tromp through it tonight, especially not with Rick and other members of his pack out. The Lupines would prove an effective deterrent to passersby. And they deserved their privacy. All mourners deserved to be left in peace.

  Despite the Alpha’s half-joking words, Eli had the very uneasy feeling that his problems were about to get a whole lot bigger. The thought sank its burrs into him
and clung, riding him all the way back to the road, refusing to be shaken even as he climbed behind the wheel of his truck. It needled him as he started the engine and followed him all the way back to town, as persistent as the lonely, heartbreaking echo of howling wolves that carried sharp and poignant on the cold night air.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Josie kept the door to the kennel area propped open so that she could hear if any of her patients made a sound indicating that they required attention, but so far the evening was proving as tedious as the paperwork she filled it with.

  Sighing, she rubbed a hand over her forehead. If she were honest with herself, Josie would have to admit that the only sound she cared about at the moment was one indicating that the Lupine in the other room might be waking up. And the only reason she had no patience for any other part of the job she loved was that her mind couldn’t stop chewing on the problem of this particular case.

  All her life, Josie Barrett had known that she wanted to be a vet, and she had pursued her goal with a single-mindedness bordering on compulsion. She had all but coasted through her training, not due to any particular academic brilliance or inherent intellectual genius, but simply because she spent all her spare time reading and studying a subject that fascinated her. She found the mechanics of animal physiology riveting, and nothing satisfied her so much as puzzling out the solution to a problem with only the clues provided by careful observation and testing. Human physicians could ask their patients questions if they needed guidance for a particular problem, but all Josie could do was watch and feel and test and treat until she found the right answer. And in return, she got to see a creature who had been ill or in pain recover and thrive. She couldn’t have asked for a greater sense of personal satisfaction.

  Except in the rare case when the right answer completely eluded her.

  Biting back a growl of frustration, Josie reached for the cup of coffee on the exam table before her, then grimaced as she realized it had long ago gone cold. She’d poured it for herself nearly two hours ago, just before she brought her stool and stack of charts over to the large, clean surface of the exam table to work. It had seemed like a good way to simultaneously catch up on the backlog of paperwork that never went away and keep an eye and ear tuned in to her latest puzzle, but now the caffeine kick had begun to wear off and she’d made little noticeable headway in either the paperwork or the Lupine case.

  It frustrated Josie to no end to find herself faced with a patient she couldn’t even diagnose properly, let alone treat. For a woman who prided herself on her credentials, this felt like failure, and failure didn’t sit well on her narrow shoulders.

  “This is starting to get to me, Bruce,” she said, slipping one foot out of its battered loafer and using it to rub the belly of the dog currently sprawled beneath the table in front of her.

  Bruce obligingly cocked a hind leg and twisted his torso to offer her better access.

  “She should be awake by now. Every reference I’ve consulted so far agrees on that. Lupines do not remain unconscious for this long unless there’s something seriously wrong. And in Others terminology, a minor gunshot wound does not count as serious. So what the heck else is going on?”

  Bruce grunted and rolled completely onto his back.

  “Not a big help, frankly. So far everything but that white count is normal, which means there has to be an infection somewhere, but nothing is showing up in culture.”

  Another grunt, following by a sneeze-like exhalation.

  “If I run one more test or set up one more culture, I’m going to run out of both blood samples and culture media, and I suspect all I’m going to get are the same results I’ve gotten for the past twenty-four hours.” She sighed. “I could really use a clue here.”

  For a second, Josie almost thought Bruce intended to give her one. The enormous hound jerked his head off the floor, pendulous flews dangling, and stared intently at the rear door of the clinic. With a soft, whooshing woof, he flipped back onto his stomach and eyed the heavy metal exit portal with steady intensity.

  Reaching down, Josie scratched behind one floppy ear and slid off her stool. “Really? Company at this hour?”

  She’d barely gotten the words out when a crisp tap at the back door was followed by the click of the latch. The panel swung open a few inches and a familiar head poked in through the opening.

  “Dr. Barrett. I saw your light on and thought it was probably you still in here. Has anyone ever told you that you work too much?”

  Bruce scrambled to his feet and stood beside his mistress, watching the scene calmly but closely.

  “Sheriff Pace,” Josie greeted, her hand moving out of habit to rest atop her dog’s heavy head. “I can’t say I was expecting to see you again today. What can I do for you?”

  Eli stepped fully into the room and pulled the door shut behind him. He held up a large white bag and offered a casual smile. “I was hoping we could put our heads together again about this situation with the Lupine. I even brought dinner as a tool of bribery. Don’t tell the town council.”

  Before Josie could decide what to make of the unexpected gesture, or how to react to her unexpected visitor, Bruce made up his mind for both of them. He inhaled half a dozen times in rapid succession, then crossed the floor between him and the sheriff in two exuberant leaps, skidding across the slick tile to finish in a perfect, attentive sit at Eli’s feet.

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Let me guess: You brought Laura Beth’s meat loaf, didn’t you?”

  Laura Beth Andrews worked at Joe Schmoe’s Café, the most popular—and only—dedicated dining establishment in Stone Creek. Unlike the Stone Creek Tavern, which supplied mediocre snacks and average pub food to help soak up its alcoholic offerings, Joe’s prided itself on a small but satisfying menu featuring seasonal local ingredients presented in both traditional home-cooking favorites and more adventurous rotating specials. It also happily catered to the children and families who felt so out of place at the tavern.

  “I’m amazed they even hand out menus on meat loaf night,” Eli said, grinning at her over Bruce’s head. “Personally, I can’t imagine ordering anything else.”

  “Neither can Bruce.”

  “So what do you say?” He shook the bag a little and raised an eyebrow. “Have you two eaten yet?”

  Josie pursed her lips. She hadn’t, but Bruce had. Still, she’d never known her dog to turn down an extra meal, and she found herself battling a strange reluctance to turn away the sheriff’s company. She told herself it was just because she needed a distraction from her paperwork. It had nothing to do with his broad, muscular shoulders, or the way his green eyes sparked at her from between thick, dark lashes.

  Nothing at all.

  She waved him forward with small snort of surrender. “While it might make a difference if I had, Bruce clearly fails to see why that matters. Come on in and sit down.”

  Turning to fetch a second stool for her guest, Josie watched out of the corner of her eye as the sheriff turned his attention from her to her huge, lumbering dog. Well, normally Bruce lumbered; at the moment, he simply sat in front of Eli, quivering from nose to tail with the anticipation of his favorite human food indulgence. For some reason, though, the sheriff looked mildly wary of her pet.

  “Don’t mind Bruce,” she assured him. “He’s pretty mellow with strangers. Mostly he just ignores them. Are you afr—er, do you not like big dogs?”

  “Oh, I like them just fine, but sometimes I find that they’re not all that wild about me.”

  Josie recalled his story last night about the sled dogs and grinned. “Well, like I said, you don’t need to worry about Bruce. Even if he’d decided to hate you this morning, he can’t bring himself to do it anymore. A man who comes bearing meat loaf is his best friend for life. You probably just made it into his will.”

  “I’m going to remember that trick,” the sheriff said, laughing. He stepped around her dog, wisely holding the bag of food up against his chest as he cross
ed to the exam table. He waited for her to shuffle her files back into order and move them to the counter before he set it down and settled onto the stool across from hers.

  He removed disposable dinnerware and plates from the bag and set them neatly before each of them. “Has there been any change in the Lupine’s condition?”

  Josie shook her head. “I wish I had something new to tell you, but her condition is still the same. It’s starting to worry me, especially since I don’t know who she is. Without any kind of medical history on her, figuring out the problem is that much harder. Have you heard from the Alpha yet?”

  “I spoke to him briefly.” Eli took two round foil containers from the bag and set them on the table. “He hadn’t heard of a missing female from his pack, but he was going to make some calls and ask around. He was in the middle of something fairly important when I saw him, but he said as soon as he’s free, he’ll come down here himself to check her out. And in the meantime, if he hears from anyone he expects might know more, he’ll send them over immediately.”

  Josie nodded and helped herself to the food. “Good. I’ll feel better when I at least know her name. Not that I expect it to make much difference in her condition. Mostly it will make me feel better.” She made a face. “I had my vet tech run some tests today, though, just to see if we missed anything, and her white blood cell count was really high. So it does look like she might be fighting off some kind of infection. I’m wondering if maybe that’s hindering her recovery somehow. I really thought she would have shifted by now, or at least regained full consciousness.”

  “That is odd. Most shifters have pretty amazing immune systems. We’re practically immune to most human infections. You won’t see a Lupine with mono, for instance. And personally, I’ve never been sick a day in my life, unless I ate something bad. Even that’s a rarity.”