Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V

by Buffi BeCraft

  More so as she let go of the door frame and came into the living area, touching her husband as she neared him, reluctant to let go as she came to stand before her brother. There was love and unity between them. It flared bright between the couple, only a shadow of that filtered through to Matthew. But only that small portion humbled him. The storybook love that everyone reached for, but never seemed to grasp hold of. He’d never witnessed the like in his experience. It wasn’t luck, but work. Worthwhile work.

  “Karen—.” Mack began, only to be cut off with a growl from Brandon and a wave of impatience from the woman herself.

  “You know I love you Mack, but shut up.” Tears trembled in her voice. Karen gave a little cry and threw her arms around him before he could do anything. “Oh, God, Matthew. It’s been so long!” Hugging him tight, he couldn’t do anything more than return the gesture. Emotion caught in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut against the dampness.

  He had so much to apologize for. Time to make up for, but as she pulled back, he caught sight of the disapproving wolven and decided that confessional time could wait. Karen’s watery smile tore at his reserve. She grinned around him at Naomi and let go to pull the lioness into an embrace as well.

  “Don’t hide back there. You’re welcome too.” Catching both their hands, she pulled them along to where Brandon was holding the pink princess leaning against her daddy as she sucked a thumb. “Come and meet the kids. This is Jolie. Honey, don’t suck your thumb. You’re too old for that.”

  Jolie didn’t have a shy bone in her body. She popped her thumb out smiled, her dark eyes and curls danced, obviously having inherited the best of both her parents and a case of precociousness that did her mother justice.

  “Hi, I want to be a wolf when I grow up, but Mommy says I’m going to be like her instead.” Jolie didn’t seem too impressed at her fate. She plucked at the lacy ruffle at her neck. “Pink is mine and Susie’s favorite color. She’s going to be a wolf, but we’re best friends anyways. She’s s’posed to wear her dress so we can be the same.”

  Matthew smiled at his niece, struck dumb at the strangeness of her conversation, while awed at her delicate beauty. He’d never wanted kids before, but now a tiny part of him wondered what he’d missed out on by his determination not to pass on his abilities. Naomi exclaimed how adorable the little girl looked in her dress.

  “Can we come down now?” whined a little boy from the top of the staircase. Both he and his twin gripped the posts, their faces pressed through the spaces like two jailbirds.

  “Yeah. There’s nothin’ to do up here.” Said the other boy. “Me an’ Shane wasn’t so boring when we were babies. All they do is sleep and scream.” The last was said in a too-loud stage whisper that had Matthew trying to keep a straight face. True enough, there were baby whimpering noises coming from upstairs.

  Karen grimaced and gestured to the two on the landing. “And these two jokers are Sammy and Shane. If there’s trouble to be had—.”

  “We’re in the middle of it!” sang the one Matthew thought was Sammy. The boy gave him a gap toothed smile and waved. The babies began wailing like sirens and the boy’s clamped their mouths shut with twin looks of guilt.

  “And that would be Jackie and Norris.” Karen swooped her daughter out of her husband’s arms. “Come on sweetie. Let’s go tend to the babies.” With a glance of longing in Matthew’s direction, she nodded at Naomi. “Want to come and meet the loudest and hungriest members of the family?”

  With a single touch on his arm, Naomi hesitated only a brief moment. “I’d love too. Maybe these other guys can show me the latest in cool toys.” Naomi’s warmth left him as she walked up the stairs. The boys cheered, leaping like kangaroos around their mother.

  “Yeah. We got all kinds of cool toys. My dad always knows which have the best weapons.”

  “We helped to name the babies. Cause’ Jackie Chan and Chuck Norris are our favorites. Want to see some moves?” their voices muffled as they walked down the hall and Matthew heard a door shut behind them. He felt better with Naomi out of the strange wolven’s eyesight and grasping range.

  Mack crossed his formidable arms over his chest. “So, you are the infamous Matthew Ridley. The Leo.” He cocked his head, wolf style. “What is a Leo? No one’s told me.”

  Brandon growled, inserting himself between Mack and Matthew. The wolven growled back, obviously unhappy with the show of loyalty. Matthew walked around Brandon so that he could face the other man. Well, face to neck at least. The man was big. He could feel the opposing natures warring inside Brandon. The cat wanted to protect The Leo, the wolf was fainter, but Matthew still felt the desire to be with his Pack. Brandon’s respect for Mack was at the forefront, but so was his need to protect. His family, his new link to Matthew, and underlying all that, himself. Brandon growled again.

  Matthew stopped analyzing and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Look, Mack. I’m not here for trouble. I came to visit my sister.” He resisted the urge to glance at Brandon to see how the other was taking this confrontation. There was no need; Matthew could feel Brandon’s irritation very clearly. Just as he felt Naomi’s worry.

  “Tell you what.” He wandered off, giving the wolven a view of his back. Matthew wasn’t worried about being attacked, the man was after something and he didn’t think that grilling Diana Weis’ long lost son was it. That was more of an opportunity. “You’re here. I’m here.” He paused to see copies of the pictures Karen had sent him proudly displayed on the fireplace mantle. He turned again, keeping his thumbs hooked in his pockets as he faced Mack. “Why don’t we just have dinner and not ruin the occasion Karen has planned? You can always grill me about my intentions later.”

  “I didn’t come here for you.” Mack looked pointedly at Brandon. The undercurrents were strong enough to pull a barge under. Still, Brandon turned his back and walked toward the stairs. Upstairs, a door slammed, presumably to the babies’ room.

  “Then you’re wasting your time.” Brandon told him, his tone became quieter, darker. That of a man not to be trifled with. “Don’t corner me, Mack. I’ll come out swinging fangs and fur, every time.”

  “Dammit, think of the kids and Karen. You’re taking them away from their home. The Pack. Friends and family. Everyone who loves and misses them. And for what? Why?” The emotion filled question fell like a time bomb, settling around the room with expectant silence.

  Brandon half turned and growled in warning. His hands flexed in anticipation of a fight. From the top of the stairs, the women and children stopped. One sucked in a breath, excitement or fright, Matthew didn’t know. He did know that he had to stop this before it went any further.

  “Hey,” Keeping the wolven in sight, he greeted the women and children at the top of the staircase. Both Karen and Naomi held a squirming baby. “Did you get to see those action figures?” he asked Naomi.

  She nodded, giving the baby a ride with small bounces that Matthew would have worried that would make it throw up if he’d been doing the same thing. “Oh, yes. Plenty of superheroes and military types with rockets, parachutes, and very cool swords.”

  “Don’t forget my planes.” One of the twin boys spoke up as they headed towards the staircase. The kids cast wary eyes on the men below. Their little hands slid down the banister as they thumped down the stairs. “I’ve got all kinds of jets too.”

  Karen murmured to the children, urging them to go to dining room for dinner. Both boys stopped, wrapping their arms around Brandon’s waist in a quick hug before breaking away to run through the doorway across the room. Jolie resisted her mother’s hand on her shoulder and grasped her father’s pants. In her other hand was a flat DVD movie case. The look she gave both Mack and Matthew held more knowledge than he would have given a child that age credit for.

  “Uncle Mattchew, are you going to stay and watch my movie?” the little girl asked. He had no choice but to nod. The movement placated her, because she looked up at her father. In that moment, she loo
ked very much like Karen had as a child. Always, looking out for those she cared for. Always ready to fight for what was dear to her. “Good. ‘Cause it’s mine and Daddy’s favorite. Miz Naomi says you’ll like it too.”

  “It iz not your favorite!” One of the boys stuck a head back into the room. “You just decided to like that old movie because Dad said Uncle Matthew was the Leo like Simba was.” The little girl glared at her brother through narrowed eyes. Her little bow shaped lip curled up. Her very canine sound of displeasure was surprising considering her delicate pink and ruffles appearance. The boy, however, shut his taunting and slunk down into the hallway, his thumping steps fading in retreat. Jolie’s gaze returned to Matthew, her features softened back into a sweet little girl expression as she waited for his answer. “It is my favorite. Same as Diego on my dinosaur movies.” She looked up. “Right, Daddy?”

  “Right, princess.” Her father assured her.

  “I’d be honored to watch your movies,” Matthew told her. Apparently, he’d answered the demand appropriately. Jolie nodded with as much dignity as a miniature queen and preceded her mother out of the room. Vibes of satisfaction rolled off of Brandon. Mack looked stricken and quietly turned and walked to the front door. Less than a minute later, a truck engine roared to life outside and slowly drove out.

  Matthew left Brandon to his moment of victory and followed his nose to the dining room. “So, what’s a Diego?”

  “A smiley-don,” crowed one of the boys.

  “No. A mal-odor-oh-don.” Corrected the other. “We looked them up on the computer after we unpacked it.”

  Jolie, the princess, laid her fork down delicately and rolled her eyes at her brothers. “The real words are too hard. Diego is the saber-tooth tiger in my movie. He doesn’t get a family yet like the elephants, but he is the bestest. He’s like Mufasa in my other movie. Simba is a really good king, but his daddy, Mufasa is better. Diego is like Mufasa. Only with bigger teeth.” She stopped and thought about it. “Do you have really big teeth Uncle Mattchew?”

  “Not as big as a saber-toothed tiger.” He forked up a mouthful of the lasagna that had been passed to him to stall any further questions. It didn’t matter. The child kept talking, beaming at her father as he took his place beside his mate. “Uncle Mattchew doesn’t have bigger teeth,” she told her father, who smirked at him.

  Matthew narrowed his eyes, but let the tease slide. The atmosphere felt wonderful. His mom had provided a safe and peaceful place for him and Karen growing up, but the safe and secure home his sister and Brandon had made for their children was almost beyond his comprehension. He watched as Karen alternately fed the babies, her mate corralling on the older ones. The active boys especially.

  After dinner they migrated to the back porch and sat on brand new cushioned deck furniture while the children ran around the yard, staying clear of the wooded area beyond. The babies gurgled and played happily in a playpen while Karen filled the conversation with anecdotes of her brood. At a lull, Naomi stood up. “You made such a wonderful meal. I’m cleaning up.”

  “No.” Karen bounced up, sounding horrified. Suddenly she sighed before dropping back into her seat. She slumped in embarrassed defeat. “I didn’t make it. It was all frozen. And you don’t have to help clean up. You’re my guest.”

  Naomi shook her head. “It was a darn good frozen dinner. And yes, I’m helping out.” Karen followed her inside, throwing a single look back at her mate. Brandon waved her on. As soon as the door shut behind her, his amicable expression faltered.

  “Nathan’s on his way.” Brandon said.

  Matthew nodded, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair. “I know.” He could feel the werepanther growing steadily closer.

  Pulling a pained expression, Brandon leaned forward. “You Called him, didn’t you.”

  “Me? I don’t have a phone. Mine was lost at BioPet.” The innocent act didn’t work. Brandon frowned at him and the ruse was up. “Okay. Yeah. That power is kind of handy. Besides, you need to stay with your family tonight.”

  “They’re safe here.” He protested. “I’d know if danger came. But you….”

  Matthew nodded his agreement. “I know. Nathan can handle it.” He didn’t know how to approach the topic with any delicacy, so he blurted the question out. “Why did you leave your Pack?”

  Brandon’s head shot up, belligerence in his hazel eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

  Matthew kept the other man’s gaze without fear. Bastet’s power filled him with confidence. “Yeah. It is. But it’s okay.” He leaned forward too and shifted his gaze to the children. Then he shook his head and reached for the connection that had been between them since he’d given everything for Brandon to live. He’d never had friends like Nathan and Brandon, two of his trusted few. Matthew had no intention of failing them, Bastet, or his people. The depth of caring and responsibility shook him if he thought about it too hard. He wanted the other man to know what he was feeling without having to speak the words. The quick blink and intake of breath told Matthew that he’d succeeded. “Whatever the reason,” he finished. Inadequate, but the words would have to do.

  Acute supernatural senses picked up the arrival of a vehicle. Matthew knew from his growing link to his cats that Nathan was there and waiting. He stood up, pushing off from his knees. “Just…don’t burn your bridges.” He gave Brandon’s shoulder a mild swat and offered a lopsided smile. “Because they’re a real pain to rebuild.” Naomi looked out the door, reluctant to intrude. But he was ready.

  “Uncle Mattchew!” Jolie ran to the foot of the steps. Her pink hair ribbon was lopsided from play, but her dress held only minimal grass stains. “You never watched my movie.”

  “I’ll be back. We’ll make a special night for it,” he offered, knowing that the time was growing late. He was tired too.

  “Promise?” She asked. Warning threaded through her high, sweet voice.

  “Absolutely.” Surprisingly, the child accepted his answer with a happy smile and skipped back to her brothers. Matthew left Brandon to his private thoughts and feelings. There was so much to do. From the moment he’d woke, urgency settled into his gut. Still, with Nathan driving in silence and Naomi’s comforting presence, Matthew drifted and slept.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bradley slipped through the night, once more on a mission for his fairy master. He’d waited on purpose, to give his quarry a false sense of security. Still, Worley Research, the sorriest excuse for a medical anything he’d ever come across, had installed some new security measures. Real cameras now monitored the premises at regularly stationed intervals. A lonely, somewhat overweight guard stood within the circle of light by the door which now had a shiny new lock on the handle.

  Not a problem. Bradley smiled to himself. Oh the difficulties in securing a strip mall. Holding onto the black canvas messenger back strapped crossways over his shoulders, Bradley kept to the shadows, flitting from one dark patch to another. The last thing he needed was to be found out because his bag was flapping in the breeze.

  What he needed, he realized, was another form, one less intimidating. With the shape shifters outed, humans were imagining hordes of rabid werewolves descending on the general populace. He’d heard secondhand about Brandon’s soccer mom shooter. He was offended that she’d gotten away with little more than a slap on the wrist. And he’d checked too. But Bradley wasn’t surprised. Tank had been pushing supernatural unity for years, making Bradley wonder if the big guy hadn’t retained some precognitive abilities from before he’d been bitten. Or had the brilliant scientist just deduced that outcome from his own logic?

  At the opposite end of the building where the main air conditioning and heating units were stationed, Bradley darted to one of the storage building sized units and leapt the six feet to the top. Too late, he forgot about slick metal surfaces and slid several feet into the next big block with a hollow metal thud. The bag caught on a protruding pipe, nearly choking Bradley as he unwound it. With a q
uick breath, he froze. When no one investigated, he continued his climb upward with much more caution. Mostly, he was thankful that no one saw him being choked by his own bag. The Pack would never have let him live that down.

  A last, tiny jump vaulted him over the brick sidewall and onto the tar and gravel roof. Before him the long stretch of mall roof spread before him. He set off at a lope, coming to the opposite end in moments. Just as he suspected, the security measures didn’t extend to the roof of the rented section that housed Worley Research.

  Bradley frowned at his narrow options. The trap door from attic to roof was too obvious. Only a business run by incompetent morons would forget to put a guard rotation there, especially after the previous break in and theft. Plus the narrow confines would make defense almost impossible if he were caught. If it weren’t for the freaking lightshow that announced his teleportation, he’d have just gone in and out in a flash. The ducts were wide, but still too narrow for his frame. He could do this. He just had to figure out how to get in without being seen.

  And then he saw it. The creature was small and huddled pitifully in one corner. Thin, the tinge of gray in its yellow green skin indicating illness, the little goblin hissed at him. Bradley approached carefully; goblins and their kind were to the fairy realm what gremlins and imps were to the demon realms. “Ho, little one.” The guttural language fell easily from his lips. Thanks to Morgan’s gifts, Bradley could speak any fairy tongue. He still had trouble placing the species with their native habitats though. “Why are yous so far from the rolly hills and wet stank swamps?”

  “Hooman monsters ate the land with big iron machines,” The creature told him, burbling back in its own tongue. The bulbous eyes fixed on Bradley with some confusion. Shape shifters usually ran off goblin kind, treating them like a nasty rat infestation. It sniffed, then catching fairy scent settled and scooted closer. “Then Hunters come and take what’s left of ours nest. Got out, we did. But stuck up here with the smelly tar awful iron. Nothing to eat but bird.”