A snarl built in Holly’s chest, and Priscilla froze in terror as a pair of dark wolf’s eyes met hers. Lips pulled away from gleaming teeth and she smelled the creature’s breath. This was it. This was where she met her end. It wasn’t the one she’d pictured. Death by werewolf was not the glorious epitaph she’d wanted to leave. Holly prepared to strike. Priscilla closed her eyes and braced herself for pain.
And then something was lifting the wolf off of her. Her eyes flew open again and she saw a huge, hulking shape struggling with the overgrown wolf that was Holly Burke. The wolf snarled and bit the person who’d pulled her off.
“Ack! She bit me!” the man bellowed.
“Hold her still,” another voice said. This one she recognized. Jack Riggs. Arthur must have radioed for more backup.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” the man grunted. Belatedly, Priscilla realized she knew this voice too. Garrett McKnight. What was he doing here? Hadn’t he gone home after they’d crashed his date and accused him of murder? She would have.
There was a soft pop as someone fired the tranquilizer gun. Holly’s growls gurgled off into moans, and finally, the wolf was silent.
Priscilla tried to sit up. Someone pushed her back down. Dimly, she could make out Jack’s face.
“Don’t. You’re hurt. Again.” He rolled his eyes. “We’re going to have to start a fund for your hospital bills, Pratt. You never seem to come out of these cases unscathed.”
“Holly,” she croaked.
“Out like a light,” Jack said with a small smile. He raised the tranquilizer gun so she could see it. “Arthur’s loading her into the car now.”
Slowly, Priscilla’s vision began to clear. Her arms and legs still throbbed, but at least her mind felt a little clearer.
“She bit Garrett,” she whispered. “How deep is the wound?”
Garrett was standing a few feet away from her, clutching his arm to his chest. He removed his hand to show her the bite. It was deep and oozing blood, but at least Holly hadn’t had the chance to savage the arm. It looked no worse than the average dog bite.
“You should get to a hospital,” she told him. “If you get an antiviral soon enough, you might be able to avoid contracting lycanthropy.”
To her surprise, Garrett grinned. “I could turn into a werewolf? That’s so cool.”
Priscilla rolled her eyes. “I thought you said that you could tell the difference between reality and fantasy, Raoul the Kinslayer? And that there’s no such thing as werewolves?”
“Still cool,” Garrett muttered defensively.
She could hear an ambulance in the distance. She wasn’t sure she’d need it, but Jack and Arthur would probably insist. She’d go anyway, just to make sure to tell the doctors to give Garrett the antivirals. She didn’t trust that he’d let that fact slide, in favor of becoming the mythical monster he so admired.
She closed her eyes. It was easier to block out the pain that way.
“Anything I can do for you, Priscilla?” Jack asked.
“Do me a favor,” Priscilla said with a sigh. “Tell Maddison to close up shop.”
“Why?”
“Fangs in Fondant won’t be open until further notice. I need a vacation.”
Epilogue
Priscilla had to endure only an overnight stay at the hospital before she was released. It was a record. Usually she ended up grievously injured somehow. Road rash and a minor concussion, she could heal in short order.
Garrett McKnight wasn’t so lucky. After about a week, his blood cultures came back abnormal. Almost wolfish. The fact didn’t seem to trouble him all that much. Of course, if anyone was going to be accepting of his transition into a giant dog each month, it would be Garrett. And when Priscilla left his hospital room, he was crowing that he’d beat anyone at Fangs, Fur, and Fury.
Unfortunately, Maddison had joined the group in his absence, at Anna’s insistence. Her assistant had stepped down from her position as baroness and had ceded it to Maddison. Priscilla was sure that hearing about the possibility of Garrett’s pending transformation into a werewolf had something to do with that. At least the playing ground would remain fair.
And it had worked out well for Maddison in the end. All the members of the Blood Legion were excited to have an actual vampire playing in their midst. Several had approached Maddison about the possibility of giving blood. Practical soul that she was, Maddison accepted from some, but not all of them. So at least now that problem was solved.
Another had cropped up in its wake. The vampire boy that Aaron had been set to adopt was going to return to the custody of the state. With his potential father dead, and adoptive mother about to face twenty to life, there was nowhere to go.
After some thought, and a lot of preparatory classes, Priscilla had decided that maybe she could adjust to having a child in her life. After all, it wasn’t as if she was going to be looking after a messy, squalling infant. And with the renovations that Olivia had made to the building, there was enough space on the second floor that she could now qualify for adoption.
Anna watched her chew on her nails in amusement. They were sitting in the middle of a bustling train station. The train bearing the young man they were expecting was due any minute.
“I didn’t know you did that. I’ve never seen you this anxious before.”
“It’s a bad habit,” Priscilla said, sinking further down the bench they sat on. “I thought I’d broken it.”
“Stop worrying. He’s just a kid.”
And he was. Dean Chapman, the boy she’d made arrangements to adopt, was a kid in every sense of the word. Only four years dead, he’d been turned in high school by a teacher who’d taken an inappropriate interest in him. This would be their first meeting before the adoption could be finalized
“What if he hates me?” Priscilla fretted. “I mean, I’m not parent material really. This was probably a bad idea.”
“I think it was great,” Anna enthused. “Now you both have a family.”
The word struck a chord with Priscilla. Family. Yes, it had been a long time since she’d had a family. She’d never made herself a companion. It felt wrong to condemn someone to this life just so she could have company. She’d suffered too long at the hands of her own sire to want to inflict it on anyone else.
But this was the family she’d chosen. And Dean had chosen her, to some degree. The state wouldn’t have signed off on the adoption if he’d been uncomfortable with the idea. That made her feel marginally better.
Anna took her hand and squeezed it gently as the train pulled into the station. “Are you ready?”
Priscilla took a deep, fortifying breath and stood. “As I’ll ever be.”
As she strode forward with Anna by her side, ready to meet the boy who would be her new family, he hoped they could come to like each other. She’d heard that kids could be fun, even if they were hard work. And he was a teenager, right? A young adult, on the cusp of maturity.
How bad could a sixteen-year-old boy be?
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About the Author
Melissa Monroe grew up in a small Missouri town where dogs outnumbered people, and the biggest monument it had to boast was a four-way stop. Melissa’s highest aspiration as a child was to become a vampire. Despite the fact she crisps in the sun, it wasn’t to be. In college she came to be something close, staying up all hours and consuming an unholy amount of warm caffeinated beverages to attain a journalism degree at Missouri Western.
A habitual insomniac and coffee addict, Melissa spends her days penning works of fantasy, romance and mystery, occasionally emerging from her office to feast on the snacks of the living. She currently lives in Saint Joseph, Missouri, with her husband Matthew.
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