by Rhian Cahill
She thought about taking the easy way out, just going over and waiting for someone else to deal with whatever mischief Marcus had wrought in her house, but she couldn’t do it. “No. I’m coming in with you.”
“Doc.”
“It’s my house, my problem.”
“Dale.” Steve turned to the other man. “Tell her to wait outside.”
“Can’t. Technically this isn’t an official call, otherwise I would.” Dale looked at Gordie. “But if I tell you to move you move, got it?”
She nodded. Gordie might be brave enough to go in with them, but she wasn’t about to question the authority of a sheriff who’d spent years on the mean streets of a big city.
“Right, let’s go then.” Dale walked to the door, key out. “Both of you stay behind me.”
Steve shoved her behind him as they entered the house. The stench hit her full in the face like a brick wall. It was worse than a litter box. Gordie pinched her nose and breathed through her mouth until she got in the rhythm of breathing through her mouth only. Puddles of yellow fluid lined the walls and floor in the foyer and explained where the smell came from.
“Fuck.” Steve pulled her behind him into the living room. “I take it you didn’t leave the place like that yesterday morning?”
“You take it right.” Gordie quickly scanned the room. “There’s none in here.”
“No, it appears to just be in the entrance.” Dale strode toward the dining area.
Gordie held tight to Steve’s hand as they followed the sheriff through her house. There was another “marking of territory” section at her back door but nothing else on the lower level appeared to have been touched. At the stairs she took a deep breath through her mouth and tried to calm the nerves jumping around inside her. She knew whatever they found upstairs would be above and beyond the downstairs damage.
Kat’s childhood bedroom was trashed. The furniture had been overturned and the bedding ripped from the bed. Gordie wanted to cry at the sight of her sister’s prized collection of porcelain dolls—the clothes were in tatters and their pretty, painted faces smashed to smithereens.
“Jesus.” Steve tugged on her hand. “Don’t touch anything. Dale might be able to get fingerprints.”
“I’ll want photos too before you move anything, Gordie,” Dale said.
She nodded and spun on her heel to leave the room but stopped when she saw the wall behind her. Gordie’s chest ached when all the air was sucked from her lungs. Painted on the wall, in crude preschool skill, was a coyote, his eyes glowed un-naturally yellow, saliva dripped from its jaws and clamped between wicked-looking teeth was a cat. It didn’t take a genius to work out what the message was.
“Get her off the street.” Gordie took off at a run, a scream tearing from her throat. “Kat!”
“Gordie, wait.”
She could hear Steve’s boots hitting the hardwood flooring as he raced after her, but she couldn’t stop. Had to reach Kat before anything happened. Her feet slid in the borrowed boots and she stumbled on the staircase. A hand gripped her forearm, fingers dug into her soft flesh and sent shards of pain slicing through her elbow and wrist. Gordie felt herself spin midair, her footing gone from underneath her completely but instead of landing on hard, wooden treads she slammed into the hot, hard wall of Steve’s chest.
He held her close and they went down together. His body cushioned their fall and air expelled from his lungs as his back hit the stairs with a thud. Steve groaned in pain and Gordie had visions of snapping vertebrae before her breasts crushed against his ribs, sucking all breath from her. The front door burst open beneath them. Footfalls pounded the stairs above and below them, but she couldn’t get past the look of agony on Steve’s face.
Stars danced in her vision and pain lanced her chest. Gordie tried to suck in air, tried to move her arms and legs to get off him but nothing wanted to work properly. Her ears filled with a strange humming sound that she tried to shake loose but it didn’t stop. Finally her lungs worked, lifesaving oxygen flowed through her veins bringing with it vital feeling and function.
She planted her hands on the step beside Steve’s shoulders and pushed to lift her weight off him. He still hadn’t spoken and the color of his skin was making her feel sick. She scrambled up, moved to the side and began to check his limbs for breakage.
“Where does it hurt? Can you feel your toes? Talk to me, Steve.” She rambled on as she cleared one section after another of any injury.
Steve tried to say something and she bent forward to listen but couldn’t make out the words. She checked his pupils. Both reacted normally and Gordie breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t appear to have banged his head in the fall. His color was returning along with a harsh breath he dragged in through clenched teeth.
“Don’t try to move. Let me check the rest of you.” Gordie ran her hands under his head and another sigh left her chest when she found no lumps.
“Okay,” he panted. “Catch. Breath.”
“What?”
“Winded.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“Okay, everyone back, give him room.” She thrust out her hands to ward everyone off without taking her eyes off Steve’s.
“I’m okay, Doc. You can relax now.”
Relax? They just tumbled down half a flight of stairs and he wanted her to relax? “Not going to happen until you get up and walk and talk normally.”
“Give me a second.”
“Here, let me help you sit.” Dale spoke from above them.
Dale shoved his hands under Steve’s shoulders and lifted. Steve groaned but didn’t change color or faint. That was a win as far as she was concerned. Gordie moved aside and helped him sit with an arm around his waist. He leaned in against her and she pushed back to keep them both from falling into everyone crammed onto the steps below them.
“What happened? Why were you screaming my name at the top of your lungs?” Kat asked.
Oh God. She’d forgotten about that. Gordie looked at her sister but couldn’t come up with the words to explain.
“You old room is trashed and there’s a nasty message on one of the walls,” Dale told everyone.
Kat raised one eyebrow. “Really? What about the rest of the house?”
“Downstairs is clean except for the piss at the front and back doors. We only got as far as your room when Gordie panicked about you being out on the street.”
“Let’s check the rest of the house,” Brogan said.
“Not without me you’re not.” Steve tried to stand.
“Hey, you can’t get up yet.” Gordie tightened her arm around him but only succeeded in getting pulled to her feet with him. “Okay, you can.”
“I told you I was fine, just had the wind knocked out of me,” he reassured her.
“At least let me check you over first.”
“The only thing you’re going to find is a few bruises. Honestly, Doc, I’m fine.”
She wanted to believe him with every fiber of her being but her heart and her mind wanted proof before he did anything. Gordie checked his eyes again and found no change, just that penetrating gaze of his. He seemed all right so she conceded, but she’d be watching him closely for a while.
“Okay, but any dizziness or numbness or pain you tell me straight away.”
“Yes, Doc.” He grinned and leaned down to drop a kiss on her mouth. “Thank you for caring.”
Gordie’s cheeks burned. Everyone stood around them and even though they all knew she and Steve were together now she couldn’t help the blush that stole over her skin.
Dale cleared his throat. “Let’s get the rest of the upstairs looked at and then I can take some photos and dust for fingerprints.”
“What good will that do? It’s not like we don’t know who’s behind it,” Kat said.
“We might know but we need proof because this time he’s not getting exiled. I want him locked up,” Dale said.
“How will you manage
that seeing how he’s not human?” El asked from over Brogan’s shoulder.
“There are some jails that are shifter friendly.” Dale grinned.
“So some humans know about shifters?”
“No, but there are shifters who live among humans and a few are in the correctional services so we have options when it comes to shifters who break the law. In the old days we’d have had to kill them,” Dale explained.
“Oh.” El wrapped her arms around Brogan’s waist. “That’s just horrible.”
“It’s the way it was, but there’s been a lot of changes over the years and being able to lock up criminals whether they’re human or not is just one of them.” Dale turned and headed back up the stairs.
Gordie kept her arm around Steve’s waist and walked beside him. He didn’t need her support to stay upright but she needed to feel his warmth to reminder her he was fine.
Steve let Doc hold him steady. He could walk without her help but after seeing her trip on the stairs and the vision of her hitting bottom that had splashed across his mind in the split second before he’d caught her made him need her touch. She tucked nicely under his arm and he enjoyed the feel of her beside him.
They stopped at the door to Kat’s room and everyone took a look inside. Kat whistled and then turned a shade lighter when she got a good look at the painting. She studied it for ages, stepped closer and touched the paint.
“It’s dry and if I’m right it’s paint like the sort we used in art class back in high school,” Kat told them.
Doc reached out a hand and he let her go so the two sisters could hug. It was a brief squeeze and he soon found Doc cuddled back into his side.
“Okay, let’s keep going,” Doc said.
The bathroom was undisturbed, the tiled expanse clean and tidy. Steve and Doc followed Dale as he made his way along the hallway. Another door revealed a spare room furnished as a home office. This room looked worse than Kat’s bedroom.
“Damn. That’s a lot of paperwork,” Quinn said.
“Yeah, it’s the DNA records for my research on the coyote gene. It’s not the first time I’ve found my papers trashed like this but at least it won’t set me back months like the first time,” Doc said.
“No? Why not?” Steve asked.
“I started keeping a computer record after the first break-in.” Dale held up a shattered piece of her hard drive. “And I keep a copy of all my files at an offsite file storage company so my research is safe.”
“Good. I doubt there’s anything in here you can salvage,” Dale said.
There were two rooms left and Steve turned to Doc. “Which one?”
“Mom and Dad’s first. I have no doubt mine will be the worst so we’ll save it for last.”
Doctor and Mrs. Monroe’s room was untouched. Like the bathroom not one thing had been moved, it was like the Monroes had gotten up this morning instead of months ago when they’d taken off on their latest cross-country adventure.
“Anyone else find it bizarre that this room is untouched?” Quinn asked.
“No. Downstairs is the same.” Dale turned to leave the room. “He’s not wasting energy on what won’t get a reaction.”
Damn, Dale was right. Everything that had been trashed caused an emotional reaction. Marcus was playing mind games with them. It wasn’t just about fear either, the way he’d smashed Kat’s doll collection held anger but was designed to provoke pain. And the painting, well that had everything to do with menacing Doc. He wanted her to worry about her sister, to fear for her well-being and the dolls played into that too. In his twisted way Marcus was letting Doc know he’d hurt her sister next.
Kat stood next to Dale as he opened the door to Doc’s bedroom. All color drained from her face and she swayed.
“Dale.” Steve broke his hold on Doc and lunged for her sister but Dale spun in time to catch her and lower her to the floor.
Doc dropped to her knees next to them and patted her sister’s cheek. “Come on, Kat, don’t faint on me. You’re tougher than that.”
Kat’s eyes fluttered. “Jesus Christ. Steve, don’t let them see.”
Steve had no idea what she was talking about until he heard Rowan’s cry of anguish. He turned and looked past Dale into Doc’s room. “Fuck.”
Quinn pulled Rowan into his arms and Brogan held El back away from the door. Steve got to his feet and quickly closed the door. He turned back to the group. “Take everyone downstairs. Doc and Dale stay here.”
“Why? What’s in there?” El’s voice wobbled.
“I don’t know and I don’t care at the moment. Let’s go down and wait for them to join us.” Brogan steered her away down the hall.
Tatum and Dale helped Kat to her feet. She’d regained her color and her eyes sparked with heat of the angry kind. Linking her arm with Tatum, they followed the others. Quinn remained with a crying Rowan in his arms. Steve looked at his friend and neither of them had to speak to know what the other was thinking. Marcus would pay for this.
“We won’t be long,” Steve told him.
Quinn nodded and led Rowan away.
“What the hell is in that room, Steve?” Doc stood beside him. “What could be bad enough for Kat to almost pass out and to send Rowan, who has to be one of the toughest women I know, into a fit of tears?”
He turned to Dale. “One on either side of her?”
Dale nodded and together they bracketed Doc. Steve took a deep breath and cupped her elbow in his palm before opening the door. She surprised him, there was no gasp, no cry, nothing. Until the shaking started. Small tremors that turned into bone-rattling vibrations in seconds.
“Is that what I think it is?” she whispered.
“Yeah, if you think that’s Rowan’s wedding dress covered in blood.”
“Oh God.” She brought a trembling hand up to cover her mouth. “Wait, that’s not just Rowan’s dress.”
Steve was unprepared for her to move so she got halfway across the room before he caught up with her. “What do you mean?”
She stood beside the bed gazing down at the red and white mess. Rowan’s dress lay draped over the footboard and now that he was closer he could see what Doc was talking about. “El’s dress, but whose is the other one?”
“My mother’s.” She reached out a hand but Dale grabbed it before she could touch anything.
“No, don’t touch.”
“Come on, we’ve seen enough. Let Dale do his job.”
“I’m calling the station. I need a couple of men over here. Will you let them in and show them upstairs when they get here, Steve?” Dale had his phone to his ear already.
“Sure.” Steve ushered Doc from the room.
“I know nothing Marcus has done makes sense but I can’t help but wonder about the significance of the dresses. Regardless of his craziness there always seems to be a subliminal message in everything he does,” Doc said.
“The message in Kat’s room is clear, he’s telling you he’ll hurt her like the dolls. But I don’t have a clue what the message in your room is. The one in your office is clear. Stop researching but why?”
“Stop researching?” She paused and looked at him. “I never made that connection.”
“What did you think it was?”
“Just willful mischief.”
“No, it’s clear to me he’s trying to destroy the research you’ve done so far, which means you’d either start again or give up.”
“I’d never give up. What I’m doing will help generations to come.”
“What exactly are you doing?”
“I’m tracking skills and bloodlines. Trying to work out if the coyote gene is thinned by breeding with humans or if there’s no change to the DNA’s strength.”
“Found anything yet?”
“Yes, actually. The gene isn’t diluted at all. And those that are turned may start with slightly less potent coyote traits but they grow stronger over the years. Depending on how young the individual is when they’re turned, they could end
up just as strong as a pure-bred coyote shifter.”
“How would any of this affect Marcus?”
“I don’t know. It was his father that was anti half-bloods and non-bloods but then the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“I think you could be right there. Malcolm was insane and it seems Marcus is following right in his footsteps.” He slung his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, let’s go meet the cavalry.”
They’d reached the bottom step when a knock sounded on the front door. Gordie let Steve answer it, more than happy to allow him to take control for now. Suddenly exhausted, she leaned on the railing for the stairs. She wasn’t touching any walls in the foyer. She nodded at the two deputies when they came inside.
“The Sheriff wants us to photograph the downstairs damage before going up, said you’d show us where, Mr. McKenna,” the older of the two spoke.
“Here, and beside the back door through the kitchen. Someone has marked territory. Yell when we can clean it up.”
“Okay, Mr. McKenna.”
Steve walked over to Gordie and pulled her into his arms. The warmth radiating from his body helped remove the chill that had settled in her bones since she’d seen her room. She didn’t want to remember those dresses covered in blood but the image was burned onto her memory like the ink of a tattoo. Gordie sighed and leaned into him.
“I’m not going to promise everything will be okay but I will guarantee I’ll be standing beside you no matter what happens,” he murmured in her ear, his lips brushing her skin, his breath warm and moist.
Gordie didn’t answer him, there didn’t seem to be anything but thank you to say and that felt like too little. She wrapped her arms around his waist and raising her head, stood on tippy toes. Her mouth met his in a quick peck. “It seems like too little but thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Doc. You know I’d be here regardless of our current relationship standing.” He grinned.
“What?”
“We’re together.”
“I know. So?”
“I’ve waited most of my life for this moment and with everything going on it’s only just sunk in.” Steve lifted her off the floor and spun around.
