Lycanthropy Files Box Set: Books 1-3 Plus Novella

by Cecilia Dominic

  “Most would be happy for the excitement you experience.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “I want predictability and security.”

  “Then you should probably take that phone call, although all is not as it seems with your young man.”

  “Who? I don’t have a young—” My phone rang, and the screen showed it was Jared Steel.

  “Go,” she said. “I’ll show you how to lock up tomorrow.”

  I waved goodbye, left the store, and answered the phone. After we exchanged pleasantries like we hadn’t just seen each other that morning, he asked, “So what have you been up to in Salem?”

  “Nothing much, just business.”

  He chuckled, and the sound came through the phone like warm, dark chocolate. I had the urge to make him laugh so I could hear it again.

  “You’re selling yourself short with your nothing much. I just got a call from a detective up there asking about your whereabouts this morning.” His charming tone took on a chill. “You’re not trying to drag me into a scandal, are you?”

  I stiffened and almost tripped over a curb. Old Kyra would never have lost her poise like that, and I had to remind myself not to clench my jaw with frustration.

  “No. Gods, Jared. I didn’t even think about that. I got questioned by a policeman about a suspicious death, but there’s no scandal.”

  “There’s a suspicious death, but no scandal.” He laughed, and I relaxed a bit. “I knew when I saw you this morning that you’d still be full of surprises. I’m going to come up and take you to lunch tomorrow. I have to be up there anyway.”

  “I’m sorry, I have to work,” I told him. I didn’t know if I did or not, but I suspected I would, especially if Veronica undid whatever she’d done to scare people away.

  I expected him to say he’d come and meet me on my lunch break, but there was a long enough pause I wondered if the call had been dropped.

  “Are you sure you can’t get away?” he asked. “I know a great little place in Marblehead.”

  “I’ll have to ask tomorrow morning.”

  A couple of passersby gave me strange looks, and I realized I was scowling, so I tried for a more neutral expression. There was definitely something off about this conversation. Why was he so interested in me? Well, besides the fact I’d been naked in his bathroom that morning.

  Oh, crap, he didn’t have cameras in there, did he? No, now I’m getting paranoid.

  “By the way,” he said, “did you hear the big news?”

  “No, what?”

  “Someone leaked the story that an institute in Scotland developed a cure for CLS.”

  4

  A Bump in the Night

  Jared’s pronouncement stopped me in my tracks. Literally. Someone bumped into me when I halted, and I stepped out of the flow of foot traffic with a murmured apology. It was past dusk, and even more tourists were out and about looking at the Halloween decorations, which were all lit up. None of them realized they had a horror movie creature in their midst.

  “What?” I asked. “Say that again, slowly. You’re breaking up.” Or maybe it was my heart beating so fast it sounded like static in my ear.

  “There’s a place in Scotland called the ILR. You can guess what the initials stand for. They released a statement today saying they’ve found a cure for Chronic Lycanthropy Syndrome.”

  My face felt weird, the muscles moving in unfamiliar ways, and I realized I was smiling. Not the polite smile of the businesswoman or the tired moue of the monster exhausted from a night running about, but a real smile. I wished I had known there was an ILR—Institute for Lycanthropic Reversal—earlier. I would have volunteered.

  Then skepticism snapped my lips back into place.

  “And you believe them? What sort of proof do they have?”

  “I don’t know, but if my company could get hold of the formula and patent it in the States, it could be huge.”

  “Do you know who’s in charge?” I had a suspicion, and he confirmed it as well as the other reason he’d called.

  “The heads of the institute are Maximilian Fortuna and his wife, Lonna Marconi-Fortuna. She’s from your neck of the woods down in Arkansas. I was wondering if you happened to know her, could give me an in.”

  Now we were playing a game I knew well. Perhaps I should have been disappointed he wasn’t calling just to ask me to lunch, but I was glad to slip back into the role of impression manager and charmer.

  I carefully stepped back into the moving crowd. No one seemed to notice me. They were too busy oohing and ahhing over the houses.

  “Let’s discuss this at lunch tomorrow, assuming I can break free.” Even if I was essentially invisible, I knew how easily people’s attention could be drawn by the merest hint of drama. I didn’t want to admit to Jared that Lonna Marconi and I had a brief but dramatic history, or that accusations of sabotage had chased me out of Crystal Pines.

  “Text me in the morning. And be careful—I don’t like this police investigation. You could be in danger.”

  “I’m sure I can take care of myself.”

  With teeth and claws if I have to.

  The thought surprised me, especially after the hope and excitement that had welled up with Jared’s news. I changed into my wolf form when I had to, and although I could otherwise, I chose not to. Why would I embrace something I hated so much—the thing that had ruined my life?

  This was not the time to start finding advantages to it.

  I was happy when I could break free of the crowd and head toward my parents’ house. Their neighbors cleared out and rented their houses to tourists, but they didn’t decorate. When I opened the front door, I found everything as I had left it, but there was a strange sulfurous odor like someone had lit a match.

  My feet crunched on something that looked like sand in the front hall. Had I tracked that in earlier?

  I made a circuit of the first floor of the house and didn’t see anything else strange. Perhaps the caretaker had come and gone, but why would she have left sand in the front hall or lit a match?

  I shrugged, grabbed my suitcase and satchel, and brought them to the master bedroom. My mother expected me to stay in what she called “the girls’ room,” but I wasn’t ten anymore. After the cot in the cabin, I wanted to stretch out in a king-sized bed, not contort myself so my feet wouldn’t dangle off a twin mattress.

  Dinner was a protein bar I’d brought with me and a bottle of water from the case in the kitchen closet. After a quick shower—not nearly as nice as the one I’d had that morning—I crawled between the clean sheets of the master bed. It was barely eight, but I’d been up since four a.m., and soon I was asleep and dreaming of witches who could wave their wands and cure me of CLS, but my health insurance wouldn’t cover their procedure because they hadn’t gotten the proper pre-authorization.

  A moonbeam found its way through the blinds and speared me awake at around three o’clock. I rolled away from it, but my movement was echoed by a thud downstairs. I sat up, all senses alert, and heard a scratching sound like boots scrabbling in sand.

  I pulled the T-shirt I’d slept in over my head just before my hands curled into paws. My fingernails turned into claws, and the change came on from my extremities. It felt like I curled inward and folded into shapes no human body should endure. The fur itched as it pushed through pores I hadn’t had before, but I couldn’t control my paws enough to scratch it.

  The final thing to change was my face, and that was the worst sensation, of someone taking my nose and pulling so hard it brought my skull with it.

  Then the pain stopped, and a sense of strength, grace, and deadliness unfurled like a flag in my middle and filled me with purpose. To my wolf eyes, the room seemed awash in daylight—not moonlight—and my lips curled.

  There was an intruder in my house, and I wanted to tear him or her apart.

  No tearing apart, I reminded myself. Not unless I want a visit from that nice policeman later.

  I jumped off the bed with
as little noise as possible and slunk into the hallway and down the stairs. My fur was the same color as my hair—almost black—so I knew I would blend into the shadows.

  Whereas the sulfurous smell had dissipated to my human nose, it was still very strong and present to my wolf nose. But that wasn’t what made me stop, all fur on end, when I turned toward the front hall. The sand I had stepped in glowed an opalescent blue, and I saw it was in a circle shape about three feet in diameter. I could see the panes of the front door through the ghostly figure that struggled in the middle of it.

  My wolf brain, eminently practical, noted that I couldn’t do anything about a ghost because it wasn’t solid enough to be afraid of me, so I should just turn around and go back to bed.

  But then I heard my name.

  My ears perked up, and I moved closer, sticking to the darker patches. Why was the ghost calling my name? Was it a deceased family member visiting for the Festival of the Dead? What was I supposed to do about it?

  “Kyra, where are you? I’m trapped. I just want to talk to you.”

  The ghost pushed against some sort of invisible barrier. When I got close enough to make out its features, I gasped, which came out as a canine huff.

  Jared Steel was the ghost trapped in the circle.

  “What are you doing here? Are you dead?” I didn’t know if he would hear my mental voice, but he spun around.

  “Where are you? I can’t see you.”

  “I’m right here. It’s nighttime. Why are you here in my parents’ house? Are you dead?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I think I’m dreaming.” He looked at his hands and grew more solid. I moved out of the shadows to sit in front of him, and he tried to back up, but he bounced against the back of the circle.

  “Kyra, wherever you are, go! There’s a wolf.”

  He looked so bewildered I wasn’t sure whether to laugh at him or comfort him. I still didn’t know whether he was dead, but I suspected not. If some wolves could spirit-walk, then I supposed some humans could, too.

  I did want to know who had made a binding circle in my foyer, but I guessed it wasn’t my confused astral projection house guest.

  And if he was projecting while he was asleep, I could have some fun. My instincts told me he didn’t realize he had this ability and would just write all this off to a strange dream in the morning.

  As he came more into view, his attire resolved itself into shorts and a tight-fitting T-shirt that hugged the muscles of his upper arms, shoulders, and chest. Dark hair showed above the rim of the v-neck collar, and I licked my lips at the sight of his lightly fuzzed and nicely shaped legs.

  Yes, Jared Steel was quite nice out of his work clothes, and I found myself disappointed that he didn’t sleep naked.

  “Are you asleep?” I asked.

  He rubbed his eyes. “I suppose so? But seriously, where are you? This wolf looks like it wants to eat me alive. It won’t stop staring at me.”

  “I’m right here, but I need you to turn around.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  With one last look at me, he complied. I changed back to my human form and blinked the tears from my eyes at the sensation of having my face pushed back into place and my body stretched out. As for the fur, it felt like a rough-bristled brush being shoved through my skin.

  I remained on all fours and gave myself a moment to recover. Then I stood on wobbly legs and arranged my long hair to reveal my breasts and private parts enough to be tantalizing but not give the whole story away.

  “All right, you can turn around.”

  5

  The Unwelcome Chaperone

  A blast of cold air made me cross my arms over my carefully displayed body, and when Jared turned around, his eyes widened with fear, not with lust.

  What the hell…?

  I turned to see the very angry ghost of my Italian grandmother standing behind me. She held a rolling pin like a weapon she couldn’t decide whether to throw or hit me with. Whereas her hair been completely gray when she died, she looked like I remembered her from my childhood with gray streaks, only a few wrinkles, and black eyes that could impale you with disappointment and make you feel guilty for everything you’d ever done.

  Since the last time I’d seen her, I’d done a lot.

  “Nona?” I asked. Gods, how I’d missed her. She’d been my father’s mother but had been able to keep my own mother in line, at least while we were here. Our visits were a rare but welcome respite from our mother’s manipulations.

  Nona didn’t look so happy to see me, though.

  “What are you doing, granddaughter? You know that canoodling between unmarried couples isn’t allowed in this house.”

  “But, Nona, you’ve been dead for ten years.”

  “And you’ve been acting like a slut for longer.” She spat her words, and they stung me like a whip. She continued, “House rules still stand. If you’re going to tempt that poor young man’s projection, you can do so elsewhere. Either put on some clothes or find another place to stay. If I could tell your mother…” She shook her head in that way of hers that said she was praying to the angels for patience.

  I looked over my shoulder at Jared, who had a huge grin on his face. “This dream has taken a very entertaining turn,” he said, “even if I would have liked it to go a different way.”

  I’m pretty sure my backside blushed under his admiring gaze. I know the rest of me burned, but I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or lust for him. He had a body that Renaissance artists only dreamed of, and I wasn’t sure how well he could control his astral projection’s appearance—meaning that he might have been giving himself some male enhancement. But if not, holy canoodling! He was definitely interested in what he saw.

  A smack on the back of my head made me turn back to face my grandmother’s ghost. “Stop sinning with your eyes.” She waved her rolling pin at Jared, and he disappeared with one of his chocolate fondue chuckles.

  “You. Clothes. Now.” She pointed to the back of the hallway, where the stairs were. I moved to go around her, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm. “And, Kyra, be careful. While you have a protector here, there are those who want to do you and your kind harm. They have attracted the attention of spirits who are older and more powerful than I.”

  “What are my kind, Nona? And who are you talking about?”

  “You have Benandanti blood, granddaughter, the good walkers of the Italian hills. That’s why you have the full expression of the wolf illness. There are those who believe it’s only for those of royal blood, and those who believe it is a curse that should be eradicated.” She shook her head. “Now go back to sleep and rest while you can. I sense danger around you, but not details as to who. Trust no one, not even that handsome young man.”

  “I’ve missed you, Nona.”

  “I’ve never been far away from you, my Kyra.” She put a hand on my cheek and disappeared.

  Something wet fell on my bare feet, and I realized the drops were tears. I hadn’t cried for her in years, not since her funeral. Since then, I had been careful not to show any sign of weakness and had fought hard for what I wanted, whether those around me said I deserved it or not.

  It sounded like I wasn’t done fighting yet.

  I woke the next morning fully dressed and wondering if the strange occurrences had been a dream. Even so, I avoided going downstairs. The previous day had been weird enough, and I just wasn’t ready to face the evidence that not only had I possibly been seen by Jared Steel naked—damn that wolf brain—but my ghostly grandmother had warned of further threats.

  The thoughts bounced around my head like sugar-fed toddlers. I took my time getting ready but found it difficult to focus. Early mornings after changing were the hardest—Damn, another sign that last night was real—because the animal brain took its time going back to sleep. We all had different hangover effects from changing.

  Or maybe I’m just exhausted from traveling and all the weirdness of
yesterday. But still, thank gods there’s a cure.

  What had Nona said—Benandanti blood? Right.

  Perhaps my subconscious had been trying to fill in the reasons for why I’d gotten the kind of CLS I had, the full manifestation of the change. Some people just had symptoms—delusions, strong pack mentality, desire to be outside at night—but very few changed. So few, in fact, that those of us who did tended to flee to remote areas, where we found each other and banded together for support and protection.

  Or had, anyway.

  Matthew’s words echoed in my brain, how there couldn’t be two alpha females. How did that bode for me in another pack? Would I be seen as a threat and challenge, or would I be punished for trying to fight for what I thought was mine? It was not like Leo had been unresponsive to my attention before Joanie Fisher had arrived.

  I tugged my mind back to the present. I’d been pondering which shirt to wear, but it didn’t matter. Okay, I tried to feel like it didn’t matter, convince myself that I wasn’t interested in the world’s most eligible bachelor. But I had dreamed he was as sexy as the guy I’d always cast as the hero when I read romance.

  It was only a dream, it was only a dream…

  I walked down the stairs and didn’t see any sign of last night—no fur, no paw prints… The dawn light shone straight through the glass panes and showed that the foyer floor was clean. Really clean. As if someone had come in and swept it.

  Had I imagined the sand? Or had salt been used for a spell to bind any intruders that may appear in the house?

  Maybe I was feeling something on the bottom of my shoes. But wouldn’t there be something on the floor?

  Then I remembered how my grandmother had been meticulous about keeping the front hall clean so nothing would be tracked into the rest of the house. She’d always made us take our shoes off when we came in. Out of habit, I felt guilty about wearing street shoes in the house, but I hadn’t found the slipper stash yet. Not that I’d looked.