by Dunbar, Natalie; Glass, Seressia; Jeffries, J. M. ; Banks, L. A.
He leaned forward, his face animated with emotion. “Do you know how volatile the balance is between the different species here? This is my home, and I will not see it destroyed. We must catch this gang of rogue werewolves before all hell breaks loose in this city.”
Deep down something inside her wanted to help him. It warred with her need to finish Nana’s business first. Kellie locked gazes with him. “I can only tell you what I know.” She admired his single-minded strength of conviction and wondered briefly what it would be like to have all that energy and determination focused on her. He drew a pen and a small black notebook from his pocket and leaned forward. “Tell me how the attack started.”
Placing the glass on the nightstand, Kellie began her story. Reliving the attack wasn’t as hard as she’d imagined. It was almost as if it had happened to someone else. She marveled at her calm and hoped she wasn’t simply in shock.
Garen was silent for most of her story, stopping her only to ask questions about the gold chains or collars she’d seen around some of the wolves’ necks and the silver knife she’d used on the alpha werewolf.
He gave her the pen and opened a new page in his notebook so that she could sketch the emblem on the pendant she’d seen on some of the wolves’ gold chains.
“I’ve seen this somewhere,” he remarked, studying it carefully. “I’ll give it to the research arm of our group to study. What about the knife?”
“What about it?” she asked, deciding right then that she wasn’t giving it to the Preternatural Police to study. She needed it for her own protection.
“We examined it, but we’re still not sure what makes it work.”
“It’s silver,” she answered, her tone hardening. “That should be all you need to know.”
“But from what you’ve said, and the report filed by the SWAT team, there’s more to it than that. The alpha was burned alive, from the inside out.”
“Maybe he had severe allergy to silver,” she quipped lightly.
“An expert in the research arm of the Preternatural Police claims that the knife has some of the same markings as the sword of Arielle, an artifact in the Louvre. What do you know about that?”
She answered his question with one of her own. “Is it so unusual to see markings copied from famous artifacts?”
Garen wasn’t ready to drop the subject of the knife. “It’s not unusual to see artwork copied from museum artifacts, but when objects like your knife exhibit unusual properties, we take note. Can you tell me anything about the knife?”
“Nothing except that it’s been in my family for several generations and belonged to Arielle, a mythical warrior princess. As a child, I sometimes pretended that I was Arielle. Nana said that I really was related to her.” She saw that Garen was studying her, obviously not sure what to believe. “Look Garen, as you’ve already pointed out, I’m in danger. That knife may have saved my life.”
“Against an entire pack?” Garen shook his head. “No way. There was something else they wanted from you.” Letting that sink in, he was silent for several moments.
Kellie considered it. What could they have wanted from her? They hadn’t asked her anything or bothered to search Nana’s home. Except for the fact that she hadn’t been torn to pieces and she still lived, her attack had mirrored the others. “No, you’re wrong.”
”Am I?” Garen’s lips tightened and his brows furrowed as he scanned the drawing of the medallion once more, his fingers tracing the markings. His lips moved soundlessly.
Garen stood. “Thank you. I’m sure this will help. We appreciate your cooperation. Are you planning to stay in the area for a while?”
“Long enough to clear up Nana’s estate, do the funeral, and head back to Detroit,” she answered truthfully. After being attacked, she couldn’t wait to leave.
“Be careful,” he ordered. “I’m almost certain you’re still a target. If I were you, my first stop would be the police station, to retrieve the knife and the guns from the evidence room.”
“I’ll do that,” she assured him, wishing he’d leave so she could get dressed and get out as soon as possible.
He placed the notebook and pen in an inside pocket of his suit coat. “Kellie, refusing our protection is not wise at best. At worst, it is just plain suicide. Don’t you want to reconsider?”
As reasonable and convincing as he sounded with his soft southern lilt, Kellie shook her head. Nana had never liked or trusted the Preternatural Police, and some of it must have rubbed off on her. Nana had likened them to having the fox watch the hen house to keep out other foxes.
Something within her urged her to trust Garen. That in itself was suspicious.
Finally accepting her refusal of protection, Garen nodded. With one last regretful glance, he said his goodbye and left.
Chapter Three
As soon as the door closed on Garen Roy, Kellie carefully got up from the bed and stood on rubbery legs. A strong sense of self-preservation fueled her determination. The attack of vertigo had taught her to move slowly and deliberately. Making her way to the room’s tiny closet, she found a fresh pair of jeans, green tank top, and clean underwear and socks, compliments of the Nevada Department of Social Services. There was even a pair of new tennis shoes in a plastic bag. On the shelf she found an envelope with her name on it. Her money, charge cards, and ID were inside. She headed for the shower, hoping it would enable her to move a little faster.
In the shower, Kellie stood beneath the hot spray and checked her body for signs of cuts or bruises. There were none. Still, her body felt stiff in several places, and her legs were unsteady. Holding on to the rail in the shower, she imagined that spending weeks unconscious in a hospital bed could do that to a body. Then there was the fact that she smelled different. She’d even lost a layer of pudge.
In the bathroom mirror, she blow-dried her thick hair using the hairdryer mounted on the wall and the little plastic brush in her patient kit. Her facial features had changed. More striking? She couldn’t put her finger on the difference, but there was an innate vitality or glow there that she hadn’t seen before. She’d never been beautiful, and still wasn’t, but the whites of her mahogany brown eyes were bright, and her hair seemed more lustrous and full. She’d certainly get more masculine attention.
Closing her eyes she prayed that the changes in her were not because she was becoming a werewolf. There was still hope.
Kellie dressed as quickly as possible. Surprisingly, the clothes fit almost perfectly. The jeans were a little tight, but Kellie had noticed that tight jeans were always in style for women. On the way out, she stopped at the nurses’ station to get discharge instructions and some official word on her condition. The head nurse, an obvious veteran of many patient battles, did her best to convince Kellie to stay for more tests. When that didn’t work, the head nurse called Kellie’s doctor.
“You nearly killed me,” she said, facing the man who’d administered the vaccine.
The doctor flinched. He addressed her sincerely in a low tone. “I’m sorry. I was doing my job as required by the laws of this state. We tested your blood, and there was no evidence to support your claim that you would have such a violent reaction. Could we please speak in private? There’s something you should know.”
Kellie followed him into his office and took one of the chairs.
“Ms. Monroe, again, I’m sorry about what happened. I’ve been monitoring your condition closely and am pleased with your recovery thus far and hope to see it continue.”
Kellie shook her head in denial. “I need to get all of my strength back, but other than that, I’m fully recovered now.”
“On the contrary,” the doctor said, leaning forward to place a hand on hers, “the vaccine apparently caused some sort of chemical reaction. Your blood is changing.”
She felt the prick of tears behind her eyes, and she withdrew her hand from beneath his. “You mean I’m becoming a werewolf?”
He struggled for words. “I mean I don’t k
now. Our hematology department has never seen anything like it.”
Kellie narrowed her eyes. “And what is it?”
The doctor’s eyes gleamed.
Kellie realized then that he was struggling to contain his excitement.
His words tumbled out. “The nonhuman elements in your blood are multiplying. Soon, you will no longer be human.”
Kellie got to her feet, shaking. “And what will I be then?”
“We don’t know yet. That’s why we’d like you to come back periodically for tests…”
“No. Hell no.” Kellie turned and strode for the door. “This hospital and its staff have all it’s going to get of my blood and I will sue you and this hospital for millions if any of this private information gets out.”
“We’ll keep all your information private, of course,” the doctor called after her, “but you’re going to need our help.”
“You don’t even know what is wrong, how can you help?!” Kellie opened the door and stepped back into the corridor. Slamming the door behind her, she headed for the exit.
Cell phone glued to his ear, Garen sat in an unmarked car on the corner where the hospital’s street intersected the main road. He kept his eyes trained on the front entrance. A contact inside would phone him the minute Kellie approached the nurses’ station.
He admired Kellie’s strength and spunk, both traits admired and displayed by true alpha werewolves, but there was no way he could let her go it alone. Kellie was one intriguingly powerful package of pure woman. She was nothing like the women he usually went for, but something about her drew his mind and his body.
In his bid for nonverbal convincing, he’d decided to let her experience a taste of what she would face without police protection. At the same time, it would be interesting to see who approached her. He’d make sure she didn’t get hurt.
Momentarily glancing down at the notebook on the seat beside him, Garen described the picture Kellie had drawn of the medallions that the wolves had been wearing to Elio Whitfield, his boss in the preternatural division.
“Mind if I take a look?” Elio asked in a light tone.
Being a powerful psychic, Elio got more out of reading Garen’s mind as he stared at the picture than listening to the verbal description. What he asked was something Garen only allowed in an emergency. He gave permission and felt the touch of Elio’s mind. Elio never tried to control him or read anything other than the subject at hand, but Garen dreaded the invasion all the same. It simply wasn’t natural.
“I’ve seen that damned medallion somewhere,” Elio muttered, cursing under his breath. “And quite often, too. It’s just something you don’t notice after a while, this being Vegas and all.”
Garen assured him that he’d had the same reaction.
Elio made a clicking sound with his teeth. “Did she give you anything new on the knife?”
“Yeah. She called it a family heirloom, handed down for generations. She also said that it once belonged to the real Arielle. ”
Elio’s voice was gruff on the other end of the phone. “Killing the werewolf the way it did, we already know that the knife is a thing of power. Arielle was also a sorceress. Her mate was a shape shifter.”
Garen frowned. A shapeshifter? As far as he was concerned, it was another name for a werewolf, like himself. “Was her mate a werewolf?”
“Not just a werewolf. Legend has it that he could also shift into a bear, a leopard, and a snake. Maybe even more.”
“How? How could one being master so many life forms?” Garen asked as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept.
“We don’t know a lot about her mate, but remember, Arielle was a sorceress and rumored to be one of the Fey. She was neither werewolf, vampire, or human.”
Garen thought about Kellie and the ruckus at the hospital over her reaction to the lycanthrope vaccine. He’d talked to the head of the hematology unit and heard that there were elements of Kellie’s blood that were not human, werewolf, or vampire. If Kellie was “other,” then how did she get here? The more he heard on the puzzle, the more the idea grew that she was actually related to this mythical figure, Arielle. He even allowed himself to wonder, what would it be like to be mate to a descendant of a sorceress who was also one of the Fey?
Just then, his cell phone beeped, and he saw his hospital
contact’s number pop up on the screen. “Elio, I’ve got to go. I’ll get back with you later.” Several minutes later, he saw Kellie walk out of the hospital’s front entrance.
Outside the hospital, a punishing wave of Vegas heat hit Kellie hard. Damn! She realized that she should have called a taxi from inside the hospital. Wasting her strength by going back inside was not an option. Besides, she reasoned, taxis were plentiful in Vegas. Squinting against the bright sunlight, she scanned the man who’d just walked out of the hospital behind her. In a tan golf shirt, he strolled along the side of the building as if he didn’t have a care in the world. More than once she caught him watching her, and it didn’t feel good.
Kellie didn’t know why the man was staring. She hoped he was a cop because she wasn’t really in any shape to protect herself. She recalled her conversation with Garen Roy and tried to remember why she’d been so obstinate. She liked her independence, the freedom to do as she liked, but that didn’t usually make her stupid. Mentally kicking herself, she decided that Roy had not only appealed to her sexually, he’d also gotten her back up by insisting that she needed protection. Too bad it was true.
Kellie balled her hands into fists. She had nothing, not even a purse, to fight with. And who was she fooling anyway? She was as weak as a limp noodle now. Refusing protection had been a mindless thing to do. A yellow taxicab turned onto the street; she hailed it.
The taxicab stopped at the curb, just shy of her. Approaching it, she kept an eye on the man.
He walked toward her, his speed increasing as she pulled the passenger door open and climbed in the air-conditioned interior. Leaning forward, she reached out to grab the handle and close the door.
Standing outside the cab, Tan-shirt countered her effort by holding it open with a large hand.
“Let go of the door,” she demanded in a tone that had gotten her out of trouble more than once.
With a cunning grin, he bent down and maneuvered to get into the cab.
“Can I get some help here?” Kellie shouted at the surprised cabdriver. “This man is trying to attack me!” She used her hands to scoot to the other side of the cab as fast as she could.
Tan-shirt followed, reaching for her. He smelled like—wolf. His hand closed on her wrist.
“Leave me alone!” Kellie eyed that hand, twisting her wrist and shaking it off angrily. She weighed her options. At the very least, she knew she could bite that hand if he kept it up.
Like a knight in shining armor, Garen Roy suddenly stood outside the car.
For a few seconds Kellie even let herself appreciate the fact that he hadn’t listened to her BS and he’d let her see the danger for herself. He was still fine, but now she watched him with a different sort of appreciation.
Jerking the intruder out of the car by the arm, Garen dropped him onto the hot pavement. “What are you doing here? Let me see your identification.”
Tan-shirt scrambled to his feet, all but bowing and scraping. “Just a misunderstanding, sir. She looks like a woman I know named Samantha,” he whined. “I thought it was her.”
“He’s lying,” Kellie snapped incredulously. “He got a good look at me in the back of this cab. I told him to leave me alone.”
Garen studied her, and then slung his gaze back to the man who was scrambling to his feet. “Did he touch you?”
“He grabbed my arm.” She massaged the area where a light bruise was starting to fade.
Garen motioned to the uniform cops who had just rounded the corner. The hospital was part of their beat. They came, checking
the badge Garen displayed and talking briefly. Each took one of Tan-shirt’s a
rms. As Garen leaned into the car to talk to her, she saw one of the cops reaching for his handcuffs.
With a smooth, agile movement, Tan-shirt twisted out of the officer’s grasp and ducked back into the hospital. The two uniformed cops ran after him.
Straightening, Garen watched, apparently torn between helping them and staying with her. The cops were human. Somehow Kellie didn’t think they would welcome Garen’s help.
Cursing under his breath, Garen bent down into the doorway to address Kellie. She won that battle. “Perhaps now you’ll let me give you a ride to the station so you can retrieve your things?”
She nodded and accepted his help, getting out of the cab. “You look tired,” he murmured. “Maybe you should have stayed in the hospital a little longer.”
Lifting her brows, she fixed him with a challenging look. “And become a science experiment and stationary target? I don’t think so.”
Garen took her arm, urging her to lean on him.
Garen had managed to earn a measure of her trust. Kellie suppressed a small sigh of relief as she sagged against him. She desperately wanted to close her eyes and sleep, but rest would only be allowed to come on her terms.
“You were under our protection while you were in the hospital,” he reminded her on the way to his vehicle. “And you were safe.”
Was she? Kellie thought of the werewolf who had followed her out of the hospital as she got in Garen’s unmarked car. Lulled by the motion of the vehicle, she soon dozed fitfully against the seats. The automobile’s lack of movement eventually caused her to awaken.
Garen sat in the driver’s seat, watching her silently. “Ready?”
“No.” Bracing herself for the coming ordeal of getting her property back from the police, Kellie combed her hair with her fingers and hugged herself against a sudden chill that raised goosebumps on her arms. She wondered how long he’d been watching her sleep. It had to have been at least half an hour. The little nap had done wonders.
Extending his long arm to the back seat of the car, he retrieved a navy T-shirt with the letters “LVPD” stamped across the front. “Here.”