They exchanged cursory nods of acknowledgement and Ro scanned the board for her assignment. Her block of rooms contained a two-year old with a high fever, a man in his twenties with a hand wound, and an elderly woman who had been throwing up for two days.
X-rays and wound cultures had already been performed for the man. The two-year old was waiting for a bed in the pediatric ward, and the elderly woman rested while receiving IV fluids and an anti-emetic.
She decided to check on the man first. Even though the report said he was in his twenties, when she stepped in she was still surprised by his appearance. She had been expecting to see a heroin junkie with an infected hand – a fairly common occurrence in this section of town – not the handsome, well-kept man sitting before her. He was tall and well-built, with dark hair and several days’ worth of scruff. If not for the gash in his right hand, she would’ve wondered if he’d accidentally wandered in from a modelling gig for American Eagle.
Ro offered a greeting and was almost immediately unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. His blue eyes were exceptionally bright and, silly as it sounded, he looked more like he was trying to peer into her soul than make casual eye-contact. Though she was positive she’d never seen him before, there was something strangely familiar about him, too.
He continued to stare at her, as if memorizing her every feature. Being no stranger to uncomfortable encounters, be them with patients or prey, she assumed a businesslike demeanor and approached. “My name is Ro and I’ll be taking over as your nurse. The x-ray results are still being processed and as soon as those come in, Dr. Malik will discuss possible courses of treatment.” She took a quick glance at his wound and again something nagged at her from the back of her mind. “How did you hurt your hand?”
“Bar fight,” he answered in a curt voice. “Guy came after me with a knife.”
The story matched what he’d told the previous nurse, so she relaxed slightly. The smackheads had a tendency to change their stories every time they told it. Besides, the wound on his hand didn’t match the stuff she usually saw on users. It was relatively clean, with no obvious signs of infection. Just a two-inch slash on the palm. The only thing potentially worrying was that it didn’t seem to be clotting over.
The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly tingled and when she looked up, she caught him staring again. Her eyes met his and she got a feeling akin to déjà vu.
What is it with this guy?
For a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say, but then she remembered what it was she did after hours. It would take a lot more than some leering creep to scare her. She swallowed the apprehension and cleared her throat. “That looks like it hurts. Do you need any pain medication while we wait for the x-ray results?”
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. Though she never felt intimidated by patients, the way he was staring at her caused her heartbeat to quicken slightly. When she spoke, it was an effort to keep her voice neutral. “Okay, then. I’ll go check and see if Dr. Malik has any updates. Be right back.”
She quickly stepped out of the room, nearly tripping on her return to the nurses’ station. “What’s up with you?” Kamika asked her, eyebrow raised. “You look like someone just stepped on your grave.”
“It’s nothing. I just got a weird vibe from the patient in 9.”
“I got a look at him,” she replied with a knowing nod, “and he gave me tingles too, in all the right places.”
“Not that kind of vibe.” She twirled her finger near her temple. “I’m going to see if we can get him out of here soon. I don’t have time for Looney Tunes today.”
She found Dr. Malik sitting at a workstation studying something on the screen. When she approached him, she could see he was examining an x-ray of her patient’s hand. “Anything strange about it?” The doctor turned and raised an eyebrow, to which Ro quickly amended, “I meant, does it look like there are any complications?”
His brow furrowed. “There’s something lodged in there. Pretty deep, too.” He used the tip of a ballpoint pen to point to a small white triangular form superimposed on the image of the hand. “He said he was in a knife fight? I’m guessing it’s the tip of the blade. He’s going to need surgery to remove it, maybe some physical therapy afterwards. I’m going to consult ortho and call in the hand specialist. I’ll go talk to him.”
She nodded and went to check on her next patient. When she emerged, Dr. Malik was standing outside of room 9 with a frown on his face. “Ro, did your patient go to the bathroom or something?”
“No, not that I know of. Why?”
“He’s not in the room.”
“I’ll take a look around. Maybe he decided to stretch his legs.”
Ro checked the bathrooms to no avail. When she returned to the room, she saw he still hadn’t returned. An odd feeling filled her as she stepped into the hallway and scanned her surroundings. She didn’t think she’d be able to miss his tall figure in the flow of patients and hospital personnel milling about the emergency department, but she didn’t see anyone resembling an LL Bean model. She grabbed one of the nursing aides to help her search, but after another ten minutes still couldn’t find him. A sweep by security and Code Walker didn’t yield any positive results, so she had to relegate herself to the notion that he’d left the hospital.
Shit.
While she wrote up the incident report at the end of her shift, Kamika tried to console her. “Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known he’d walk. And you were just in his room right before he jumped ship.”
“But why come in if he was just going to leave? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Who knows? Brains and looks don’t always go hand in hand. I wouldn’t stress too much.” When Ro didn’t reply right away, she added, “Hey, if you’re going to obsess about it, then at least try to drown it with some beers. Terry from x-ray told me the first round’s on him.”
Ro remembered the last outing Kamika had talked her into. She’d come damn close to putting Reggie through a wall when he’d drunkenly tried to cop a feel. “I’d hate to be a third wheel and I’m kind of tired.”
“You won’t be. He’s bringing some friends, plus Mindy and Renee are coming also. Come on.”
“I’m going to take a raincheck. I want to go home, take a shower, and maybe lose myself in a book.”
“Fine,” her friend conceded. “At least tell me it’s a hot romance, because otherwise I’m getting you a cat and knitting you an afghan.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Ro tried to let the incident from earlier go, but as she walked down the sidewalk, she still couldn’t get her patient’s nagging familiarity out of her mind.
She was approaching the steps of the subway entrance when the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. Though her senses were mostly attuned to whelps, they were also sometimes helpful in picking up when trouble was about to go down. Ro sometimes wondered if the sixth sense that hunters shared could be honed beyond just the occasional tingle, but it was never something she’d had the time to indulge in.
For now, she accepted the early warning for what it was and glanced around at her fellow commuters, seeing if she could identify the source of her unease. Nothing stood out from the crowd of humanity engrossed in their phones, music, and newspapers. She gave her head a slight shake as she watched the oblivious masses. Whoever had coined the phrase “safety in numbers” hadn’t considered potential casualties, collateral damage, or hostages.
When the train arrived in the station, she stepped on board, but the feeling of unease only dissipated slightly.
What the hell?
Ro considered things as the train moved along. She’d been running on all cylinders for weeks – working her shifts, continuing to search for clues that would point her either to her father or the whelp responsible for his disappearance, and doing her damnedest to keep Kane at arm’s length. Then there were the nightmares.
I’m probably just overtired
. Maybe it’s a good thing I blew Kamika off tonight.
She reached her stop and walked briskly up the steps leading to the street. Whatever calm she’d been hoping for didn’t last. Her skin immediately broke out in gooseflesh as that anticipation of impending trouble seemingly tripled. There was no way this was her mind playing tricks on her. Something was off.
The pedestrian traffic lightened as she trekked the long blocks east toward SoHo. She’d walked these streets many times, often in the dead of night, with little or no fear. With her training, any would-be mugger would find her a very unpleasant surprise.
No. That wasn’t the issue. There were far worse things than mere muggers lurking the streets, and she was certain one of them was close by.
She considered her options. The full moon was still over a week away. Whelps weren’t the only threat haunting the night, though. Vampires, witches, even skin walkers – creatures straight out of humanity’s nightmares – were all far too real.
She dismissed the first. Vamps were ambush predators. It was still too early and there were too many people about. Witches were problematic, with their spells and glamours, but she could think of no reason for one to be stalking her. The Guild usually went out of its way to avoid crossing paths with them, and she couldn’t think of any with a personal quarrel against her. On that last, non-lycan shifters were exceptionally rare, but extremely dangerous. Against one, she stood little to no chance. But they were solitary. Thankfully, she’d never heard of one terrorizing a city before.
Her senses tingled again. Whatever was out there was close. Ro pushed any fear she had to the back of her mind and took a deep breath. It was time to end this game.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a pedestrian to nearly plow into her back. “What the hell, bitch?” the teenager complained before hustling away. She ignored him. He was inconsequential to whatever was playing out on the street. There was someone or something else out there that was far less innocuous, and she intended to flush them out.
Ro fished her phone out of her bag, even though it hadn’t rung. She stepped aside to allow for any passersby to walk past and enabled her tracker app.
As advanced as smartphones had become, hers wasn’t any that would be found on the shelves of the local Verizon store. Specially built by the Guild’s tech arm, it included a few extra features that made GPS seem quaint by comparison.
The tracker was one such extra. Originally designed to be used on hunts against multiple targets, it sent out a pulse that would detect any significant heat signatures within ten yards. Though it was usually far too distracting when tracking a lone whelp, it was a near godsend for avoiding pack ambushes.
Several blobs lit up on the small screen, most of them moving past her – commuters heading to whatever destination awaited them, nothing more.
There! A lone stationary signature appeared just at the edge of the phone’s range. That had to be it. Gotcha!
She made to appear as if she was texting someone, but was actually informing the app to set that particular heat signature as her target. As it moved, her phone would vibrate a silent warning, the frequency increasing or decreasing with its proximity. She slipped the phone into the front pocket of her jeans and started walking again.
Her senses on overdrive, she walked briskly but cautiously, all the while aware of the vibrations being sent out by her phone. Just as she figured, once she started walking, so too did her pursuer – the vibrations against her leg steady, indicating her would-be stalker was keeping pace. When she reached her building, she walked past and continued down the street.
Her mind racing to draw up a strategy on the fly, she travelled one long block east and abruptly turned the corner and ducked into a convenience store. She picked up a couple of oranges and a quart of milk, then paid for her purchases, noting that the vibrations from her phone didn’t change. Her uninvited company was waiting somewhere outside the store, close but keeping his distance.
She carefully tucked the groceries into her bag and prepared for the inevitable confrontation.
♦ ♦ ♦
Dean waited in the shadows, making sure his hood was pulled up and covering as much of his face as possible. It had started to drizzle, so he wasn’t the only unidentifiable pedestrian seemingly shielding himself from the rain.
He’d recognized her immediately at the hospital. Her red hair had been unmistakable even in the darkness of the alley – perfect skin with just a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, pale green eyes which had stared at him with pleading and passion. He didn’t know how he remembered her, how he’d been able to reel in the animal enough to register the details. Usually he only remembered simpler sensations – scents, sounds, feelings of rage and an uncontrollable need to kill.
But he hadn’t killed her. Something within him, some small remaining sense of humanity, had forced its way to the surface. Maybe it had been the wolfsbane working after all, but somehow he didn’t quite believe that. Why her when everything else was a hazy blur of rage?
The old man, in his delirium, hadn’t put forth much resistance in giving up the information he’d needed. All he’d had to do was ask. Dean had been careful at first – observing her from a distance, staking out her apartment to learn her schedule. Despite her slight appearance, he realized how dangerous she likely was.
He quickly fell into a routine, playing it safe, waiting for the right moment. But then the old man began to take a turn for the worse again and Dean realized, with some horror, that it was getting late in the month. The wolf was again drawing near. It was time to shit or get off the pot.
He knew Coop wouldn’t have been keen on the idea of him going to the hospital, but the time for waiting was over. So he’d acted without consulting his friend first.
He considered his hand. Painful as it was, it had given him the perfect excuse to make contact, even if all he’d done was stand there staring at her like some sort of creep, unable to fathom how someone so fair could lead a life so deadly.
Was it fortuitous or just coincidence that the hunter he was seeking was also an emergency room nurse? Months ago, he would have believed the latter, but now he was beginning to wonder if it might be more.
After all, mere coincidence wouldn’t have practically dropped two hunters in his lap and dangled the possibility of a cure. Finally, he was almost within reach of the opportunity to continue, and hopefully perfect, his work. If he didn’t believe himself cursed, he would’ve thought he was damn lucky.
His plan had been to knock on her door, beg for an audience, and hope she didn’t blow his head off first, but she was taking her sweet time going home tonight. He continued to stand there, waiting. What the hell was she doing in the store? It would be just his luck if she was doing her weekly grocery shopping while he was standing outside in the rain like a moron. He gave her another five minutes, then stuck his head out of the alley and glanced toward the store. No sign of her.
Damnit!
He turned to scan the street from the other direction when his feet were swept out from beneath him and he was dragged back into the alleyway. He was roughly kicked over onto his back, facing the sky beneath the shadow of the buildings above him. And there she was, green eyes flashing and a pistol pointed right in his face.
Double damnit!
He should have listened to Coop and been more careful. Instead, he’d been an arrogant moron. This wasn’t some game of Mission Impossible. She was a hunter, trained to deal with things like him, and he was nothing but prey, especially now in his vulnerable human state.
He held out his hands, hoping she wasn’t the type to shoot first and ask questions never. “Wait!”
“Shut up.” She eyed the opening of the alley, then gestured with her gun. “Get up slowly, hands out in front of you. Try anything and a bullet goes in your brain. Lie to me and I’ll put one in your balls, too. And believe me, I’m a good shot and even better at making sure bodies are never found.�
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He believed her. Strike had told him that hunters were to be avoided at all costs. He didn’t need that asshole’s advice to know she was dangerous. But even with a loaded gun in his face, he couldn’t help but marvel that somehow he remembered her from his time as a wolf when just about everything else was nothing more than a blur. Something about her was ... it was hard to quantify. Special was the only word that came to mind.
Dean had always been the type of guy to live in the moment, never worrying about whether life had a plan for him. But he couldn’t help shake the feeling that fate had orchestrated their encounter those many weeks back.
Of course, now the challenge was explaining that to her without his brains ending up smeared across the side of a building.
“Why are you following me?” she demanded.
For a moment, he considered pleading innocence, but then remembered her warning about lying. It was time to go for broke.
“I need your help.”
6
Ro stared hard at him, His tone was earnest if gruff, his eyes nearly glowing in the shadows with a fierce emotion. Whatever he wanted, he wanted it desperately.
“Who exactly the hell are you and why should I help you?”
“Because you’re one of the only people who can.”
“Oh, really?” She unlatched the safety with a click, but he merely eyed the gun. He was good at keeping his shit together, whoever he was, she had to give him that much. “How about this, then? You tell me and then I’ll decide whether or not to let my little friend here answer.” He hesitated and she began to tighten her finger against the trigger. “I really don’t have all night, and you definitely don’t.”
“I know you’re a hunter.”
Lycan Moon: An Urban Fairy Tale (Lycan Evolution Book 1) Page 5