Changeling Dream

by Dani Harper

  Jillian. You’re a beautiful woman but it would be best if we didn’t see each other anymore. I’m sorry.

  “Well, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Best, he says. Best for who?” Birkie shook her head, blinked hard until her eyes cleared. “Isn’t that just like a man? Trying so hard to protect the one you love that it ends up hurting both of you.” She sighed and stashed the flowers in the supply room until closing. Then she quietly took them to the dumpster and dropped them in.

  James was drill-seeding the back quarter section of land. Most farmers used herbicides to kill off all existing plants before putting in a crop, but there would be no chemicals used on Macleod land. He’d studied the latest techniques and decided to go with a no-tillage policy as well. That meant seeding the fields without plowing them, leaving the existing plant cover to hoard moisture and shelter topsoil from the powerful west winds. It would take time, plenty of it, but James was determined to steer the farm to organic production.

  It would take a lot of work too, but that was fine with him. In fact, the more work, the better. Right now, work was the only thing keeping him sane. Usually the land was soothing to his spirit, the soil enlivening. But not now and not for the last three weeks. Even from the cab of the tall tractor, he should have been able to feel a unique closeness to the earth but lately he’d just felt empty, hollowed out and aching. The deep peace and satisfaction he usually found in green and growing things was missing, and in its place was desolation.

  James told himself repeatedly that he’d done the right thing by walking out of Jillian’s life. He should never have let things go so far in the first place. Should never have kissed her, should never have held her—but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to regret it. God, that night together, tangled on the forest floor. Whenever he closed his eyes he still heard her heart hammering behind her teacup breasts, still saw downy curls glinting gold between her slim legs.

  Everything had changed. She had changed. He had looked at her with human eyes for the first time while she slept in her apartment. That little frown on her fine features had immediately evoked a storybook picture of a cranky faery. But that night in the forest, the cuteness disappeared. The silvered light had revealed something downright ethereal, profound. Even regal. Not Tinkerbell but Titania herself. It was in the angles of Jillian’s face, in her sea green eyes, in her wild cap of hair. In her narrow frame that seemed far too small to hold the blazing passions that drove her. In her skin that was so much fairer than even his own, so amazingly soft over compact muscle. Every night in his dreams he ran his hands over her body, delighting in the lines of it, the colors and textures, even as he breathed in the enticing scent of her, as his heart thrilled to the sound of her voice, her laughter. And every morning he had to remind himself that for Jillian’s sake the dream had to remain a dream.

  The sun was down, but the darkness didn’t matter to James. The tractor had powerful headlights and his night vision was acute. He could easily finish this field tonight. Maybe the one on the south side as well. Whatever would keep him busy enough to stay awake was fine with him. James just didn’t feel up to having another dream of any kind. Besides, when he was awake, it was easier to control the wolf within. Relatively easier. Since James had ended things with Jillian, the wolf had been increasingly surly, miserable, short-tempered and likely to snap at anyone. Just like my human self. He didn’t know how long he could keep a leash on the wolf, knew that it would find its way back to Jillian sooner or later. Maybe he should leave town. The wolf would have a tough time interfering with Jillian’s life if James was in, say, outer Mongolia.

  When the fuel gauge beeped a warning, he geared down and brought the tractor to a standstill, switched off the seeder. There was a fuel tank and a pump on the back of his truck, but he’d left it parked under the trees on the far side of the field. That was okay, he could use the walk. Maybe it would clear his head.

  Stars were appearing and he could just see the full moon above the trees. It was glowing yellow like a Japanese lantern, but it would lose color as it climbed. James rubbed his hands over his face and opened the cab door of the tractor, let the breeze pour through, scented the air, let himself breathe deeply and rest, relax, just for a moment—

  —suddenly he was the wolf, racing through a shadowy forest under a velvet sky bright with stars. He had to go faster, had to reach her, had to help her. Followed the river until it flowed through a city, until game trails gave way to manmade trails. Followed them until he caught the scent of violence and fear, hate and hopelessness. Followed until he caught sight of the upraised pipe. Of the brutal hands that held it. Of the man intent on destroying the life that fluttered in the slight figure crumpled on the ground beneath him.

  The Change overtook him without warning. James cried out in shock and surprise, then his human voice was strangled off abruptly by the shift in form. His human mind had time for a only single thought as he leapt down from the tractor. Jillian. He had to get to Jillian.

  The great wolf ran full out across the field, belly close to the ground, claws digging into the clay soil, tail a white plume touched with the moon’s golden light.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The calf was a big one, even for its large-boned breed, weighing almost as much as she did. Bloody to the armpits, her coveralls soaked with amniotic fluid, Jillian dragged the creature out of the three-foot long incision in its mother’s side. The cow, blissfully unaware of that incision due to the contents of a large syringe carefully inserted between two of its vertebrae, was looking around in mild interest. She blinked in surprise as the vet slipped in the wet straw and went down under 110 pounds of wriggling Charolais calf.

  “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay, we’ll get you out.” Jillian fought her way to her knees, deftly stripped the sac from around the calf’s golden face, reached into its mouth to pull its tongue forward and clear the throat. And laughed when her fingers were seized and sucked with gusto.

  Grabbing a towel, she rubbed vigorously to dry the calf, grunted as she hauled the newborn over to where the cow could nose it. For a moment the veterinarian looked on in satisfaction as the mother licked her newborn, memorizing the scent, cementing the bond between them. Animal bonds, Jillian knew, tended to be unshakeable. Not like humans. Sighing, she unwrapped a fresh surgical pack—the contents of the first had fallen into the wet straw—and began the long process of closing up.

  The full moon was more than halfway across the sky when Jillian drove away from the Murdock’s farm. She had the heat on full blast and she’d taken off her coveralls, but her clothes were wet through. Her teeth chattered as she fumbled with a radio station. Most farmers would at least have offered her some coffee or something. But then, every farmer she knew would have come out to the barn and pitched in. She had hoped for that kind of help when she couldn’t reach Caroline. Jillian had thought about asking Connor for help. After all, it wasn’t his fault his brother was a jerk. But she just didn’t feel up to seeing any of the Macleod clan tonight. And so she had taken the calving call alone, even though the farm was in a remote location, nearly two hours away.

  At least both cow and calf were fine. Jed Murdock hadn’t been pleased that Jillian had shown up instead of Connor, but he wouldn’t be able to complain about her work. And maybe a hefty bill for the extra hours she’d spent would encourage the Murdocks to be a little more helpful next time.

  Not that she minded being busy. It was harder for unwelcome thoughts to creep into her awareness when she was focused on work. That was why she had thrown herself into every task she could find at the clinic, why she was even making up tasks. Birkie had eyed Jillian with concern when she’d restacked the hay bales in the livestock area, but she didn’t care. It was better than thinking about how much she ached inside, how much James Macleod had hurt her. Except for the card that came with the flowers, she hadn’t heard from him. No letters, no phone calls. And certainly no face-to-face communication. After being at the clinic every single day, he hadn
’t come by even once for three solid weeks. Pretty hard not to read that message. She would never have picked him for the one-night stand type, but then, how much did she really know about him? It was her own fault for getting too involved too soon, for letting her hormones off the leash way too early. The fact that her heart had led the way didn’t bear thinking about.

  And so Jillian was determined not to think about anything. Her plan was to keep busy, so busy that the thoughts wouldn’t stand a chance of getting through, so busy that she simply fell into bed late each night and was asleep before she hit the pillow. The system had worked just fine for the past three weeks. But now she was worn right out, and for the first time she wondered how long she could keep this up.

  There was certainly no shortage of tasks to keep her busy tonight, even though it was well after midnight. The instruments still needed to be unpacked, washed, and sterilized. The surgical drapings and her wet coveralls had to be put in the washing machine and soaked. And she was already so damn tired. Her eyelids fluttered down, once, twice. . . .

  Jillian jerked her head up just as the cab of the truck was flooded with light. There was another vehicle behind her with its brights on. She squinted as it rapidly closed the distance between them. From the height of those blinding headlights, she judged it to be a truck. A car’s beams wouldn’t have filled her pickup cab so thoroughly. Sound flooded in as well. Though her windows were closed, she could hear the high-pitched thrum of a powerful engine and the brain-beating bass of a massive stereo system. It had to be kids. How did they stand to be inside that? She could feel the vibration of whatever music they were playing in her teeth, for God’s sake.

  Jillian prayed the driver would switch to low beams soon. She peered through half-closed eyes at her side mirror. It was indeed a tall pickup truck, but it was weaving back and forth, fishtailing on the gravel road. “Great, they’re fooling around or drunk. Probably both.” Jillian was suddenly uncomfortable about being alone and wondering where she’d stashed her cell phone when a row of dull orange spots appeared like eyes on the other truck’s roof. Jillian made out the rack of hunters’ floodlights just as they powered on.

  Dammit! Jillian slapped at the rearview mirror, flipping its face to the ceiling. “Stupid asses!” She cursed vehemently as white light shot back at her from the side mirrors, the dashboard glass, everywhere. Pain stabbed her tired eyes. She cupped a hand around her brow as a flimsy shield and tried to focus on the road ahead. The light was bright . . . and getting brighter. She wanted to slow down. She’d been under the fifty miles per hour speed limit for the gravel road, but not by much. She touched her brakes lightly, once, twice, hoping the other truck was paying attention and wouldn’t run into her.

  A bright yellow diamond flashed into view on her right, dazzlingly bright in the other truck’s lights. She squinted at the highway sign and deciphered its symbols: a hill with a steep grade. She realized at once where she was. At the bottom of the hill would be the narrow steel bridge that spanned Little Burnt Creek. If the other truck was going to pass her, it would have to do it soon. She prayed it would pass. Her nerves were already rubbed raw by the assault of light and sound.

  Suddenly the headlights swung away to her left, leaving her in abrupt darkness and temporarily blind.

  She took her foot off the gas pedal as her eyes fought to adjust and her unknown antagonist thundered by, bass pounding so loud it hurt Jillian’s ears and stabbed at her brain, vibrated in her very bones. “Stop it! Stop it!” she yelled, unable to even hear herself. The vehicle passed her in a blast of impossible noise and a rattle of gravel, hurtling down the hill. She caught a glimpse of a large red pickup with shiny chrome roll bars before the darkness swallowed it. The mind-numbing bass faded into the distance and was finally gone.

  Shaken and disoriented, Jillian pulled the truck to the shoulder of the road. It wasn’t there. There was nothing under the right front wheel as she tried in vain to steer the still-rolling truck back to solid ground. Suddenly there was a sickening lurch as the rear passenger wheel dropped over the road’s edge as well. The truck teetered on the crumbling brink, and she realized she couldn’t make it back onto the road. Jillian steered instead for the deep ditch, trying to take it at an angle so the truck wouldn’t tip. But then the ditch itself dipped and disappeared into darkness. The brakes couldn’t stop the momentum of the heavy truck as it hurtled down the steep embankment through a stand of brush.

  Thick branches slapped at the windshield, cracked it. Books and packages on the seat flew up and struck her as the vehicle lurched and bounced crazily. She saw the dark surface of a creek in her headlights, then glittering plumes of water all around her as she struggled to steer through it. A roaring filled her ears, her brain. There was no time to hope that the water wasn’t too deep, to pray that the engine would keep going. And no time at all to react as the darkness in front of her suddenly resolved itself into a tree. It was the last picture in her mind as something enormous punched her full in the face.

  Awareness faded then rushed back like a tidal surge. Heavy folds of white material swamped her, and Jillian screamed as she tried to bat it away. The air was thick with dust, choking her. Finally her brain kicked in and she realized she was fighting with the air bag.

  Her whole body jellied in relief, and she was grateful she was already sitting down. For several minutes Jillian just sat there with her hands gripping the wheel. She took a deep breath that sent her into a coughing fit. When it abated, she hit the button to roll down the window and leaned forward to rest her head on the steering column and let the cool air wash over her until her heart stopped hammering. Until she felt steady. Steadier. Well, almost steady.

  Looking around, she assessed the situation. Truck. Tree. Water. She was half in and half out of the shallow creek, the front of the truck resting against a large poplar on the opposite bank. The hood didn’t look bashed in from here. Maybe the vehicle was still drivable. Maybe she could walk the truck out in four-wheel drive. But first she’d have to lock the hubs on the front axle by hand. Note to self: Next time, pick a vehicle you can shift into four-wheel drive from the inside. Jillian popped the shoulder belt and spent a few minutes fumbling behind the seat for a flashlight. It was hard work. Her body was sore and her face felt like she’d tried to stop a train with it. One of her hands didn’t seem to work very well. She cursed repeatedly as new pains flashed here and there, as her feet kept getting tangled in the deflated air bag. There seemed to be enough of the sagging white material to make a goddamn hot air balloon.

  She kicked free of it and paused to catch her breath. “Okay, then, I’m okay. Everything’s okay. Let’s get it done.” Jillian swung open the door, saw it skim the surface of the water but didn’t hesitate to jump down. She gasped at the iciness of the water, as the fast current both shoved and pulled at her. It had to be mountain runoff—it felt like it came straight off a glacier. Reaching for the door with one hand and gripping the flashlight with the other, she took a step forward. And discovered too late that the bottom of the creek was slick with mud and algae.

  Without warning, her feet flew out from under her, plunging her beneath the icy water. The current immediately dragged her along the bottom. Panicked, Jillian clawed and flailed at the dark surface—the creek couldn’t have been more than three feet deep—but there was something in her way, something she kept banging her head and body against, that kept her submerged. Her lungs were screaming, her mind was screaming as she fought blindly for her life.

  Then something grasped her arm, gripped it tight. She fought that too, but it was strong and towed her along the icy bottom, then up into the blessed, blessed air. A moment later she was on her hands and knees on dry ground, coughing and choking and puking up water.

  It took a little while before she became aware that someone had an arm around her waist, supporting her, pounding her back. Jillian gulped in air in huge, ragged breaths and collapsed, her strength utterly spent. Powerful arms encircled her, lifted he
r, cradled her in warmth.

  “It’s okay, doc, you’re okay now. It’s over, just breathe now, baby. Just breathe.”

  With a jolt she realized she was sobbing like a child. Embarrassed, she scrubbed a hand over her face and yelped when both her hand and face protested the contact. Opening her eyes, she found herself face-to-face with a Viking.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Her voice was strangled and raw—not to mention annoyed—but it sounded terrific to him. Carefully he pushed her dripping blond hair away from her face, brushed the water from around her wide green eyes. “Jesus, doc, you scared the hell out of me. The next time you want to go diving for pearls, take some equipment.”

  “I . . . I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t get out of the water, something was holding me under.” She tried to push him away but started coughing again. When she regained her breath, she simply sagged against him, exhausted.

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her. He was as wet as she was, but he could at least share his naturally high body heat. “You were underneath the truck, doc. The water’s up to the running boards, and you must have kept trying to come up under the chassis.” Christ, she must have been terrified. It had certainly terrified him. In wolfen form he’d raced full out, crossing the miles as the crow flies, utilizing all the speed a Changeling was capable of—and then some. Not knowing what was wrong, only that there was danger and he must hurry. The compulsion whipped him mercilessly, drove him to a near-impossible pace until his heart was ready to burst. Just as it was the night he’d raced to Evelyn’s side. Past and present had blurred in James’s mind as he ran. Fear that he might be too late had clamped icy jaws around his throat, making it harder to breathe even as his lungs burned for air.