Heart of the Winter Wolf

by Heart of the Winter Wolf (pdf) (lit)

  She frowned. Wavered. "What about my clothes?"

  "I'll get you some clothes, doc, I promise. Truce?"

  She nodded and the sudden movement made her head throb viciously. She could see the sense in what James had said--a hot trickle down the side of her face told her she probably was bleeding--but she dared not let any truce continue for one minute longer than necessary. She needed to be mad, needed her anger. Various parts of her body fairly sang with pain--but it was nothing compared to the growing pain in her heart. She couldn't explain to James that to be so close to him, able to see him and feel him and touch him, was turning into slow torture. She wouldn't tell him how much he had hurt her, what a disappointment it was to know that he didn't want her.

  "I'm going to put some butterfly closures on these cuts, just to stop the bleeding until we can turn you over to a professional. Okay?"

  "Okay. Don't forget my clothes."

  "I won't forget." James knelt beside her and began gently blotting the cuts on her head with gauze. "These are bleeding pretty freely, but there's a lot of gunk in your hair."

  "Gunk? Is that a technical term?"

  "Debris. Flotsam. Leaves and mud plus God only knows what kind of bacteria live in that creek. There's a lot of runoff right now from rain in the hills, and that means the water is full of all kinds of garbage from upstream. You don't need some damn infection on top of everything else, so I'd like to use some peroxide here. Okay with you?"

  "Hey, I'm already blonde so it can't hurt." Tilting her head back made her horribly dizzy, and Jillian was grateful for the steady supporting hand that cupped the back of her neck. She stifled a groan as the cold stinging liquid fizzed on her scalp.

  James continued to work on the area until he was satisfied the adhesive closures would stick. Once he'd patched up her scalp, he turned his attention to her hands. She held them out in front of her, prepared to be stoic again. But a loud yelp escaped her when he poured the peroxide over her cuts and scrapes.

  "Sorry, doc."

  "My head didn't hurt like this," she hissed through gritted teeth. Her hands trembled as the fiery liquid bubbled and foamed, but she kept them outstretched so James could work on them.

  "Your head just had a couple of cuts. It wasn't scraped all to hell." His touch was light as he bandaged the worst of the damage. He paid particular attention to carefully wrapping the ends of the fingers that had split nails. "We don't want you to snag these on anything or they're going to hurt a lot more."

  "I don't understand what happened to my hands. I don't remember them being in this condition." She'd always kept her nails trimmed as short as possible. How could they possibly have gotten so horribly broken?

  James finished another fingertip, started wrapping the next. "I imagine you did this on the underside of the truck."

  "The truck? I--omigod." For a horrifying moment she was under the water again, struggling in the icy darkness with the unyielding thing that held her under. Terrified as she tried to claw her way through it ….

  "Stay with me, doc."

  "What?" The nightmare dissolved, and she was sitting on the ground, dry ground. There was a fire at her back and a Viking was putting things into a first aid box. The box looked ridiculously tiny next to his big hands, but his movements were competent and sure. Then the Viking looked at her with blue, blue eyes. He frowned and gripped her chin with his fingers, forcing her to pay attention.

  "Jillian, you're scaring the hell out of me. Breathe."

  Startled, she complied, breathed in and out several times until her head cleared, and relaxed a little as she surveyed her wrist, her fingers. Although she was a medical professional, Jillian hated being doctored herself. But she had to admit, grudgingly, that this man was pretty good at it. "I'm surprised you're not a veterinarian like Connor," she blurted at last.

  "Me? Too much of a farmer at heart. I'd rather raise animals than patch them up all day long. But you end up having to learn some of this stuff because a vet's not always handy. Neither is a doctor."

  "Well, thanks for patching me up. And I guess I should thank you for not letting me drown."

  "I'm just glad I was in time."

  He got up, rather abruptly she thought, and checked the fire. As if he suddenly didn't want to look at her. Jillian felt her face heat and pain stabbed her heart again. She sighed and tried to change the subject. "How did you get all the way out here, anyway? You said you didn't have a car."

  James didn't answer. Just as she decided to repeat the question, he knelt by the duffle bag and started rifling through it. "I promised you some clothes, doc. Let's see what we can do."

  By the time help arrived, Jillian was dressed. Sort of. All the clothing in the duffle bag belonged to Connor. The jeans were far too large to be of any real use, so she ignored them. The thick flannel shirt hung just past her knees once she had struggled into it. She'd been forced to let James fasten the buttons and roll the sleeves while she fumed. Her wrist was throbbing and her fingers felt like bananas, useless for anything requiring fine motor skills. She tried to put socks on herself but soon threw them down, swearing.

  "Here, let me." James picked up the big pair of woolen socks and eased them onto her as if she was a child. They went up to her knees, meeting the shirt. He pulled a sling from the first aid kit and arranged her arm more comfortably, then tucked the blanket back around her just as Birkie and Connor drove up.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  There was no hospital in Dunvegan, and the entire medical clinic would have fit into the livestock wing of the North Star Animal Hospital. In the cramped waiting room, James voiced his opinion that maybe Jillian should be taken to the city for proper treatment, but Birkie just patted his hand and smiled.

  "Lowen and Beverly Miller are excellent doctors. I've known them for years."

  Connor nodded from behind a tattered magazine. "And give yourself some credit for being a pretty good medic yourself. They x-rayed Jillian's wrist and decided to plaster right over what you'd already done. Lowen said he couldn't improve on how well those bones were set."

  James said nothing, just kept watching the door, feeling his patience wearing thin with waiting. He wanted to see Jillian. Period. He knew she was all right, yet he needed to see for himself that she was still all right, that she was alive and well. It could be a long time before he got his fill of seeing her, of hearing her talk. Hell, of listening to her breathe. It had been close, much too close. The entire drive to Dunvegan he'd been thinking about what could have happened, and thanked the heavens over and over that he had been in time.

  When the doctors emerged, they didn't have a chance to say a word before James was out of his chair and in the doorway of the treatment room. Jillian was sitting in a chair, dressed in green hospital scrubs and booties.

  "New duds?"

  "Yeah, they loaned me a set to go home in. I think I like the blue ones we've got at the clinic better."

  "I don't know. These ones kind of bring out your eyes." They did, too. Her short blonde hair stuck out in all directions, her faery features were obscured by bruising and swelling. James would bet money that she'd have two shiners by the next day, and still those sea-green eyes arrested him.

  "Ha. I think I'd have to wear red to bring out my eyes at the moment."

  "Jillian, we need to talk." He wasn't sure what he was going to say, how he was going to explain, but he knew he had to make a start somewhere.

  "No." She shook her head carefully but kept a hand on it as if to brace it for the movement. "No, we don't. Please. I really do appreciate what you did for me tonight. Thanks for the underwater rescue and the first aid." She waved her cast at him. "The doctors say you're a natural. Guess you have another career to fall back on if you get tired of farming."

  "Guess so. Look Jillian, I'm sorry that I …."

  "Don't. I mean it." The light tone vanished from her voice, and her delicate mouth was set in a straight line.

  Jesus Murphy, what am I doing? "I should h
ave thought. It's not a good time. I'll wait a couple days until you've had a chance to rest. But I have things I need to say to you."

  "No, James. You already said them. You're not interested and that's that. I don't want you to suddenly feel sorry for me and think you should hang around."

  "It's not like that."

  "No? Let me tell you what it's not going to be like. It seems to be very trendy to have sex and then just be friends, but I'm not wired that way. So let's just say a nice, clean goodbye, okay? End of story. And as for tonight, thanks again for what you did for me, but I have other people to help me now." She rose and headed for the door. Waited with folded arms for him to move out of the way. "I'm really tired, James, and I'm going home with Birkie now."

  "I'll call you." He felt like the ground was crumbling away from under his feet.

  "I don't want you to. Goodnight."

  "But--" She had already brushed past him and gone out into the waiting room. Head reeling, James watched his brother wrap a blanket around her and offer an arm for support. The three of them headed out the door, and he followed.

  "You coming, James?" Connor called over his shoulder. "I'm just going to drop these gals off and then head home."

  No. No thanks. He used mind speech because a hand seemed to have tightened around his throat. Jillian was alive. She was all right. And she was dismissing him.

  The truck headed south on the main street. James turned and walked north. He could feel the wolf stirring within. The further he walked, the more restless, almost anxious the wolf became. Stop it, you moron. She doesn't want us. Get the picture? The wolf settled reluctantly, and James could almost swear he heard it whimper. Hell, he felt like whimpering too. This is wrong, this is all wrong. Shit!

  He reached the edge of town and kept walking until the paved road gave way to gravel. The thumbnail moon was out, a silver scythe in a field of stars. Farms became forest, and soon James left the roadway and entered the trees. He paused beneath a giant spruce, breathing in the rich scents of the woods at night. And called the Change to take him.

  He had almost forgotten what it was like to Change on purpose, to be both wolf and man, aware and in control, to lope through the forest in his lupine form, liberated, exhilarated. He nosed along a game trail, picked up the spoor of deer and gave chase until he had brought down an old doe. He feasted on the hot, fresh meat, replenished his starved cells, fueled his rapid metabolism, drank deep from a cold mountain-fed stream.

  The sheer freedom should have brought him joy, but James' heart was a lead weight in his chest. He thought about heading back to Connor's farm. Instead, he made his way to Elk Point. On a great slab of stone overlooking the river valley, he laid his head on his paws with a very human sigh. He had no idea how to get Jillian to listen to him. Nor did he have any idea what he wanted to say to her if he could. All he could think was that it was over between them, that he had ended the relationship almost before it had begun. He should be glad for that, shouldn't he? She would be much better off without him, safer. I didn't want to endanger her, didn't want her to become a target by hanging around with a Changeling. Looks like I got my goddamn wish.

  But how would he watch over her, protect her, when she didn't even want him around? And how would he be able to see her and not want her?

  The moon dipped lower in the sky. The white wolf pointed his long muzzle towards it and howled, a long mournful drawn-out note that carried across the entire valley, echoing off the cliffs across the river. His battered heart found expression but not solace in the song, and he howled and howled again until all the real wolves in the area were compelled to join him.

  Dawn gilded the eastern horizon when James finally walked up the long lane of the Macleod farm, his boots crunching in the gravel. He still didn't trust his wolfen self to stay away from Jillian and had returned to human form when he left Elk Point. He hoped that the lengthy walk on two legs would help him think things through, but he had only come to the same conclusion as before. He had completely ruined things with Jillian and wished he hadn't. Wished there had been some other way ....

  Heavy-hearted, he walked past the trees in front of Connor's house, past the barns and the sheds and the corrals to the house, his house now, hidden in a thick stand of mixed poplar and spruce on the south side of the property. James closed the door behind him, still very much aware of the action. He wondered if someday he'd walk in and shut the door without even thinking about it. Would he ever be that comfortable in his human skin again?

  It was cool but not cold in the house--it was June after all--but he built a fire anyway. Just for the ambience he supposed. There's a real human attribute. One point for me. In truth, he couldn't care less about how human he was, just as long as the damn wolf wasn't in control. That was all that really mattered, wasn't it? James sat heavily on the couch and stared at the fire for a long time, willing himself not to fall asleep. The very last thing he wanted to do was dream of Jillian again.

  When the fire finally burned down to ashes and went out, James dreamed not of Jillian, but of Evelyn.

  He was on his hands and knees weeding Connor's sprawling front garden. And suddenly she was next to him, planting tiny new bulbs among the tall purple irises and sprays of golden daylilies. In the arbitrary reality of dreams, it seemed completely normal for her to be there. Of course she was there. Where else would Evelyn be?

  "What are you doing?" she asked him.

  "Gardening."

  "No, silly. What are you doing about Jillian?"

  "Nothing. I ended it."

  "Did she want to end it?"

  "She does now."

  "But she didn't before?"

  "I never asked her."

  "That's not very fair, James," she chided gently. "You haven't even given her a chance."

  "I can't give her a chance. It's too dangerous."

  "Dangerous for who, James?"

  "Something could happen to her. Someone might find out what I am and then she'd be a target."

  "You don't want what happened to me to happen to her."

  "Not to her, not to anyone. I can't do that to someone again, Evie. Not again."

  "You've always had that overactive sense of responsibility. Remember how I used to tease you about that?" She planted the last bulb and laid her hand over his. "What happened to me wasn't your fault, James. It was never your fault."

  "I should have protected you. I should have been stronger, I should never--"

  "Never have fallen in love with me? Never have tried to make a life with me?"

  His heart twisted painfully within him. "At least you'd still be alive."

  "Maybe. And maybe not. A million things could happen to any one of us on any given day. If I had been hit by a bus or struck by lightning, would you shoulder the responsibility for that, too?"

  He didn't know how to answer.

  "Are you sorry you loved me?"

  "What? God, no. I ... Evelyn, you were the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me."

  "But when I died, it was the worst thing that ever happened to you. Maybe you would have been better off never knowing me."

  "No." His voice was firm with conviction. "No, I can't be sorry for that, I can't wish that. We didn't have very long together, but every moment meant something to me."

  She smiled at him then, that beautiful beaming smile of hers that seemed lit from within. "Well, silly, I'm not sorry for loving you, either. Think about that. And think about Jillian again. I like her. And you like her, too."

  "Jesus, Evelyn."

  She laughed at his discomfort. "If you love Jillian, it doesn't take anything away from me, you know. I wish you'd give her a chance, give yourself a chance."

  He shook his head. "I won't put her in harm's way like that."

  "You keep saying that. You think that someone might hurt her because of what you are."

  He nodded, then frowned when she shook her head.

  "You haven't considered that Jillian spends a lot of
time with Changelings already. She works for Connor, lives in his clinic, represents him every time she goes on a farm call, is associated with him by the entire community," Evelyn explained carefully as if to a child. "Not only that, she sat with Culley and Devlin at the Jersey Pub one night, and went shopping with Kenzie only last week. She eats at the Finer Diner regularly, and Bill and Jessie invited her to their home. It seems to me that whether you're in her life or not, James, she's already surrounded by Changelings."

  It had never even crossed his mind. How could he not have noticed, how could he have been so stupid? Someone could be out there, watching Jillian, homing in on her. Suddenly a new thought occurred to him, a way to head off the danger. "Evelyn, tell me who it was. Tell me who--" Shot you. Murdered you. He couldn't make himself say it aloud.

  "I don't know everything, James. Only the things that are important."

  "This is important." He hadn't seen the intruders, didn't know if there was a dozen or only one. He couldn't even guess at a suspect. Neither could anyone else. The fire had effectively destroyed any evidence the police might have used, and heavy rain washed away any trail so that even a Changeling could not follow. But what about Evelyn--had she seen, had she known? "This is goddamn important."

  "Not as much as you think, hon. Vengeance won't bring you peace."

  "I was thinking more of a pre-emptive strike. That'll bring me plenty of peace."

  She shook her head. "Try mercy instead."

  Mercy. James was appalled by the notion. How could she say such a--

  She pointed to the ground. "Do you know what I've planted here?"

  "Evelyn, please." He didn't want to talk about gardening, but her expression was serious. Reluctantly, he recalled the tiny bulbs she'd been working with. "Um, crocuses?"

  "Lily-of-the-Valley. Lots and lots of it. Tell me what you think of that."

  For her sake, he tried. "I guess those will look nice here, but it's mid-summer already. The irises finished blooming a month ago. It'll take a long time before these bulbs really take hold, maybe a year before there are any blooms." James considered. "Connor will like it, though. Lord knows he needs flowers that come up by themselves. I just don't understand how he can be so great with animals and so terrible with plants."