Dead Heat (Taz Bell Book 1)

by Sharon Green

  And the continuous firing drove her back. Her screaming changed to a different sound that was still screaming but not from rage, her wings fighting to get her closer to us, but it wasn't any good. A hole appeared in the heavy brown scales in the middle of her human-like upper body followed by another hole in one of her wings, and that was the beginning of the end.

  More and more holes began to appear in her and then, with a final shriek, she fell back into her nest. I moved a few steps closer as I thrust more shells into my shotgun, and then I began to fire again. I wasn't hearing very well any longer, not without the ear protection the team members had, but not hearing didn't affect my shooting. Others of the team joined me around the outer edge of the nest, and we all shot downward until pieces of harpy began to fly in all directions.

  At that point I stepped back from the nest to give my ears a break, and after a few seconds my hearing began to come back. If I'd been human I would have been deaf for a long time if not permanently, but being a shapeshifter does have one or two advantages. By the time the last shotgun stopped firing I had enough hearing back to pick up the sudden wail coming from behind us. With a live harpy in front of us, most of us had forgotten about James.

  As James stumbled from his bed wailing, I flashed on a glimpse I'd had of him while the harpy was still alive. He hadn't slept through the fight, of course, he'd just huddled at the wall with his hands over his ears and his eyes closed tight. He was the kind of nondescript man you could pass on the street a dozen times and still not remember, ordinary brown hair, mild brown eyes, a little under average height, with narrow shoulders and a body that should have been slender rather than round from eating garbage and getting no exercise. He also wore dark blue slacks and a brown and white striped shirt, clothes he'd apparently slept in more than just once.

  The wailing got louder as James approached the nest, and it wasn't a matter of my hearing coming back even more. There was a wild desolation adding itself to the wailing, grief so terrible that it was painful to hear. James had had only one living being who actually cared about him, and now…

  James climbed into the nest and crawled over to what was left of the harpy's body. He gathered her up in both arms and rocked back and forth as he held her, wild sobbing now adding itself to the wailing. The harpy's head was still attached to her body by no more than a strip of what looked like leather, so the head swung back and forth in time to the rocking. Liquid of some kind still spurted out of the body and all over James, but he just kept rocking and crying. The sight was so pathetic that it was almost enough to make us forget how many bodies the harpy had to her credit -

  And then we all swung around as we brought our guns up, aiming at the sudden noise of attacking intruders. But it wasn't an attack and it wasn't intruders, just the rest of our force finally arriving. With the harpy dead no one's nerves were so raw that they fired at the newcomers, and the newcomers did us the same favor. Luckily.

  Just as we all lowered our weapons there was so terrible a scream that my blood tried to freeze in my veins. Insanity and pain and hatred mixed so thoroughly in the scream that it apparently had the ability to also freeze people where they stood. I say that because I was the only one who turned back to the nest and James, who was, of course, the one who'd screamed.

  So I was the only one who saw James carefully lay the harpy's body down, get to his feet, and then launch himself at the line of the SWAT team members. I had only an instant to see that his teeth had turned to fangs and his fingers were tipped with claws, and then I'd dropped the shotgun I held and was in the midst of doing my own launching - into the space between James and the team.

  The timing was pure luck even if the thinking was pure idiocy. Or maybe I should say lack of thinking. What I should have done was shoot James, but too often when reflex kicks in it's the reflexes of my nonhuman side that take over. James slammed into me rather than into the team members, and then I was being slashed as I fought to keep his fangs from my throat. His claws tore my arms open even as we both hit the floor, and then he was on top of me and fighting even harder.

  If James had believed in taking care of his body, I would almost certainly have been a goner. But even though insanity added to his strength, I was still able to hold him off. His claws ripped into my Kevlar vest, trying for my body as well as my arms, and then -

  And then part of a SWAT team shield was thrust between my face and James just before a shotgun went off. The shield protected my face from everything exploding beyond the protection. There was quite a lot squishing and slamming into the shield, some of it reaching my arms as well. Then James was gone from on top of me, and the shield was pulled back.

  James's body sprawled on the floor to the right, his feet closer to me than what was left of his head. A shotgun blast at close range doesn't leave much of someone's original equipment, and if it had been necessary to identify the body it wouldn't have been possible to use dental records. The fingerprints looked intact, but as far as his head and face went…

  I looked up to see shock and horror on every face looking down but they were staring at me, only George seeming no more than worried. The claw wounds I'd taken burned like hell, but that was no reason for the way I was being stared at. It actually took a few seconds for me to reach the truth, and when I finally did I felt downright stupid. They all thought I'd just been infected…

  "All of you better step back a little, just in case," I said as I sat up. "Normally shapeshifter blood won't give you the disease, but what James just did was too weird for me to be sure of anything right now."

  "You've been cut to pieces, Taz," Dan protested as he continued to stare at me. "Lie back down and I'll call for an ambulance."

  "I don't need an ambulance, Dan," I said, gingerly climbing to my feet. "The bleeding is already slowing down, and although it hurts like hell I'll be just fine in no time."

  "No, she really will be just fine," Granger Allen put in as Dan tried to arrange his confused protest into words that made sense. "That's one of the reasons why she jumped in front of your team people. She knew that James couldn't harm her the way he could have harmed one of your team. She was infected on the job in New York City, so bein' cut up like that was somethin' she didn't want happenin' to anyone else."

  Everyone was staring at me again, but this time the stares were on the strange side. Different emotions flitted across every face I could see, and then Dan shook his head.

  "I don't think I have to bother askin' what another reason for her jumpin' in like that was," Dan said. "She was the one who invited us to the party, so it was up to her to keep her … guests safe. I know they kicked her off the force when she was infected, and those Yankees were damned fools for lettin' her walk away. If we had one like her around here, I'd fight like hell to keep from losin' her."

  Comments like "Damned straight!" and "I sure hear you!" and others of the same came from quite a few directions, bringing Dan's former confusion directly over to me. Most people avoided me when they found out what I was, but these people…

  A minute later there was all kinds of activity going on, especially the calling in of the specialists. No one had been told about what we planned to do, so everyone had to be sent for. A couple of members of the team helped me out of the shredded vest while other paired members went to search the rest of the house. I expected to have something to do, but Dan put his foot down and ordered me to another room where I'd be able to sit and "rest." My slashed arms had almost stopped bleeding, but not well enough to suit Dan.

  So George and I went back to that pathetic family room where James had taken his meals, but not to the chair James had used. There was a comfortable chair on the other side of the room, and once I sat down George came closer to inspect me.

  "Is the pain easing up any?" George asked in a soft voice, worry visible in his eyes. "And please don't try to tell me that the pain isn't bad. If you weren't hurting you would have argued with Dan."

  "You know me too well, George," I said wit
h a smile that was on the wry side. "The pain is bad, but it's definitely easing up. And I'm really glad I don't need a new weapons belt. Even if Freemont had the time to order a new batch of belts, there's no way they could have already arrived."

  "Talking about belts won't stop me from insisting that the paramedics take a look at you," George stated, his frown showing how unhappy he was with me. "And nothing at all will stop me from … discussing the way you dropped that shotgun instead of using it. Expect to hear from me as soon as we get back to the motel."

  "It wasn't my fault, George," I protested even as I flinched, and not from the pain in my arms. "You can't lecture me about something that wasn't my fault. It was mindless reflex that made me jump in the way instead of using the shotgun, and don't think I didn't realize how stupid it was - after it was done. Instead of yelling at me, why don't you see if you can find a way to get through to the part of me that acts without thinking."

  George made a "hmph" sound and moved to another chair to sit down, leaving me to wonder if I'd made my point. He'd always believed in not letting stupidity go by without commenting, and dying hadn't changed that. Only made it worse. Have you ever tried to hide from a ghost…?

  I put my head back against the chair and closed my eyes, trying to silently urge the pain to go away. Getting slashed is supposed to hurt, but I wasn't used to having the pain hang on this long. Once you heal to a certain point your nerve endings stop having hysterics, but this time it wasn't happening. I didn't know why, but I did wish it would stop.

  By the time the paramedics arrived, my wish had started to come true. One minute I was aware of little beyond how much I hurt, and the next minute the pain had dropped to next to nothing. I opened my eyes to see that the bleeding had also stopped completely, and I was finally beginning to heal.

  "About time," I muttered, shifting around in the chair. Being a shapeshifter was bad enough; if there were no benefits to the condition then I wanted my money back.

  "It didn't take them all that long," George said, his face turned away toward the sounds of activity in the main part of the house. "As long as no one is actually dying, I assume they don't tear up the roads getting to where they're going."

  It came to me that George was talking about the paramedics, thinking I'd been commenting on their arrival. I started to correct him, then stopped being stupid. The length of time it had taken for the pain to stop would worry George, so if the subject came up I intended to lie and say I'd stopped hurting earlier. Being my partner, George had enough to worry about.

  When the paramedics walked into the room, I made them give me the stuff to clean my arms off with. The man and woman seemed to know that they couldn't catch anything from my blood, but I still wasn't willing to take a chance. I had no idea if the weirdness James had shown would make a difference, but there was no sense in exposing people to my problem if there was a way to avoid it.

  As soon as my arms were no longer covered in blood and the pieces of James the shotgun had blown loose, George and I went back to see how things were coming along with the main cleanup. About a million people had shown up to do whatever it was they did, and Granger Allen was right in the middle of it all. Everyone seemed to have a minimum of two or three questions for him, and a lot of those questions were being asked at the same time.

  "I admire the way Detective Allen is handlin' them all," a voice came, and I turned to see Dan Newsom standing to my left. "He's not losin' his cool the way I probably would, so I'm not really throwin' a fellow officer to the wolves when I say, 'better him than me.'"

  "He'd been working hard on this case even before I got here, so I don't begrudge him the attention either," I said with a smile. "My only problem is that he's the one who brought me here, so I can't get back to the motel until they turn him loose. Do you think he'd be upset if I took everyone gathered around him and knocked them all unconscious?"

  "I don't think he'd be upset, but since one of those around him is our chief…" Dan let his sentence trail off as he grinned, obviously amused by the picture I'd drawn. "How about if I give you a ride back to your motel instead? I'd hate to see you havin' trouble when you go to collect your reward."

  "I really appreciate that, Dan, all of it," I said, matching his grin. "My partners and I have been looking forward to collecting that reward, and I think we'd all cry if something happened to mess things up."

  "Cry," he echoed, his grin widening, and then he crooked a finger and led off toward the front of the house. It was really a very big house and had been expensively furnished, but everything I saw was covered with dust and looked abandoned. What a waste, what a horrible, God-forsaken waste…

  Dan used one of the vehicles he and his team had arrived in to take George and me back to the motel, and before getting out I asked him to let Allen know that I'd come in to give a statement tomorrow if his people needed it. Dan said he'd pass on the word, looked me straight in the eye as he thanked me for protecting his people, and then waved away my try at being gracious by throwing me out of his car.

  "He really is a decent sort," George said as we headed for the motel's front door. "And I believe him when he said he'd have fought to keep you on the force if you'd been here instead of in the city."

  "Strangely enough, I also believe him," I said, leading the way to the elevators. What I didn't say was that I couldn't decide if I was disappointed or relieved that I hadn't been here instead of in the city. I did miss being on a police force, but there was something about chasing after rogues that seemed to suit a part of me deep inside…

  Freemont waited at the suite door as usual, but this time he wore a satisfied smile.

  "I was worried for a while, but as soon as I knew you weren't badly hurt I was able to relax," our third partner said as he moved back to let me in the door. "And I also know you don't need very rare hamburgers this time."

  "No, I don't," I answered, too pleased with that lack to spend time worrying about why the blood James had spilled - both personally and with his claws - hadn't affected me. "What I do need, though, is a bath, and then we can go out to get something to eat."

  "Sure, Taz," Freemont said with his own smile as he closed the door. "Once you're out of the tub, though, we really should talk about that other matter. Since I know we'll be leaving this area for our next job soon, we have to make a decision."

  "Make a decision about what?" I asked, turning back to look at him. "What other matter are you talking about?"

  "Why, about the résumé that was slipped under the door," Freemont answered, now looking confused. "The covering letter said he'd already spoken to you about being hired, so I don't understand - "

  Freemont's words ended abruptly when I put my hand over my eyes. Eric had submitted a résumé, probably to make sure I didn't "forget" to mention his request to my partners, just as I'd meant to do. Forget, that is. Now…

  Chapter Eighteen

  "Whose résumé did you get, Freemont?" George asked while I stood with my hand over my eyes. "Did someone really speak to you about being hired, Taz?"

  "Yes, someone really did speak to me, George," I answered before Freemont could say anything, finally dropping my hand so it would be easier to glare at George. "As a matter of fact he said I have you to thank for his application for employment. You told him how the task force had tried to screw him and said that in his place you'd quit, so he quit. Now he's looking for a job, so he looked to us first."

  "Eric Wellman," George stated, a really peculiar expression on his face. "He quit the task force and now he wants to work for us… You know, I was surprised at first, but now I think I like the idea. You'd have someone to help you with the rough stuff, and the task force people would probably be furious."

  A grin was now spreading across George's face, and the thought of getting Grail and Jaril furious was so appealing that Freemont was able to speak before I actually remembered what it was that would get those people mad.

  "Yes, getting Taz some help is a very good idea!" Free
mont exclaimed, and he seemed to be looking at something other than us. "I don't know why yet, but it's definitely a good idea."

  "Hold on, you two," I said, looking back and forth between them. "I haven't needed the help of anyone but my partners until now, so there's no real reason to change our arrangement. Eric Wellman is not someone we need working with us."

  "Why not?" George asked, and his grin had disappeared. "We know why he lied to the police about the vampire attack, and we agreed that his being here wasn't his fault. He has the experience we need, and he wants to work with us. What's wrong with adding him to the team?"

  I really wanted to give George a list of reasons why hiring Eric was a bad idea, but I couldn't seem to get the list straight in my mind. Then I noticed that Freemont was also staring at me with the same kind of "waiting" look on his face, and that made things even worse.

  "Isn't it enough that I just don't want him working with us?" I finally asked, not quite looking at either of my partners. "If one of you didn't want someone on the team I'd never try to force that someone down your throat."

  "Taz, you don't have to get involved with the man if you don't want to, but we do need him," George said gently before I could turn away. "As it stands, if anything happened to you that kept you from working for even a few days, we could miss out on a major bounty. We'll be getting a nice chunk of cash for the harpy, but just how long do you think the money will last if we have to stop chasing rogues even for a little while?"

  "George is right, Taz, but personally I'm more concerned with your peace of mind," Freemont put in just as gently. "If you really can't abide the idea of Eric Wellman joining us, then let's forget about him. We'll find some way to make ends meet."