Touch of the Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  Again she said nothing, balancing on the balls of her feet so she could flee at any second. Luc couldn’t know. He couldn’t.

  “Please, Sam.” Breathing her name, he cupped her chin, gently making her meet his gaze. “Tell me the truth. Can you heal?”

  Animals, she cried out silently. Not little girls.

  “Luc, I’m so sorry.” Holding out her hands, she offered an apology. “I can’t help your friend’s child. That’s the truth.”

  His expression anguished, Luc ignored her out-stretched arms. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it instead. Jerking his head in a terse nod, he pivoted and walked off, his stride both swift and awkward. He left without another word, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Sam barely suppressed the urge to go after him. His departure felt like an ending, as painful as though she’d inadvertently closed another chapter of her life. One that promised the sun, moon and stars.

  The little girl was dying. And as much as Luc—or she—might wish it, there was nothing she could do to help.

  Why she felt so guilty, she didn’t know. She hadn’t lied, or even denied that she could heal. There’d been no reason for him to know she could help animals only, as he’d come to find a miracle cure for a dying three-year-old girl. Why he thought she could perform such a miracle, she didn’t know.

  Unless…no. Not possible. Despite the fact that the wolf pup had escaped from a closed cage and a locked clinic, she didn’t believe in werewolves.

  Yet how had he known the wolf pup’s name? Even worse, how had she?

  Feeling restless, she picked up her phone and called Patricia.

  “Tired of making out with Romeo already?” her friend teased.

  “Yes. No.” Sam blew out her breath in a puff. “Let me tell you why he came over today.”

  After she’d relayed the story, Patricia whistled. “Now that’s almost as bizarre as you both having the same name for that wolf. Did you maybe accidentally let that slip?”

  “Absolutely not. Luc and I have barely discussed the wolf pup. As a matter of fact, the last time we did was when he asked me if I could heal. After that, he promised not to ask me again without justification.”

  “I’d say a little girl dying is plenty.”

  They both fell silent for a moment, contemplating.

  “Sam, are you sure you couldn’t help her?” Patricia asked hesitantly.

  “You know my gift only works on animals.”

  “Yes, but things might have changed. I mean, I know you tried to heal me once, years ago, but maybe you’ve grown stronger since then.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I know!” Patricia’s tone lightened. “We can test it. All we need is a sick little kid.”

  “Right. And have the parents calling the police on me. No thanks.”

  “You owe it to this little girl to find out. Let me phone my sister. Maybe one of her brood has a cold or something and we can visit. That way you can try.”

  Sam sighed. Patricia got as tenacious as a bulldog when she had her mind set on something. “Fine. Call me back.”

  While Sam waited, she paced. She kept seeing the little girl in the picture, so happy and carefree. Sam didn’t like to imagine her motionless in a hospital bed, with tubes running from her to machines. Even worse, Sam’s mind kept replaying Luc’s anguished expression over and over, until she thought she’d go insane.

  She’d known him for only a couple of days. Why did he have such a profound effect on her?

  Two minutes later, the phone rang.

  “It’s a go,” Patricia said. “I’ll swing by to pick you up and we’ll head out there. Oh, you had the chicken pox when you were eight, the same time I did, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s see if you can heal Tory. She’s the six-year-old hoyden.”

  Sam couldn’t believe they were actually going to go through with this. She replaced the receiver and went to the front porch to wait, watching as the sun set in a pearly, pink glow. If her gift worked with Patricia’s niece, they’d have some explaining to do, but at least she’d know for sure. Maybe then she could put an end to her unreasonable guilt over failing to help Luc and the adorable little girl.

  Though he could not smell her scent, he knew she was there. For the second week he watched from the fringe of trees at the edge of the backyard.

  Impatience clawed at him, like a rabbit trying to escape his jaws. Again he wondered—should he enter while Samantha was gone? The urge to touch her, to and try and get closer, as if that alone could tell him if she had the power, was strong.

  But no, she didn’t know him, though they shared a past. She would not remember, nor care. The bitterness of that knowledge ate like acid in his stomach.

  Still, Samantha was his. Tied by blood. His to do with as he pleased. If she could help him now, then the years of self-doubt and envy would be well worth the delay.

  For now, he would continue to wait and see. Watch and learn if the gift truly resided in her hands. Only once he knew the truth would he know if he could use her for his own gain.

  The gift that kept on giving.

  Laughing quietly at his own joke, he blended back into the shadows, slipping away to wait and watch.

  As the sun traveled toward the horizon, Luc headed into town for supplies. Though traffic was light, he rounded a curve and came to a sudden halt as the pickup in front of him did the same. Several cars had pulled over on the side of the road and people were clustered around something, a small, motionless shape on the pavement.

  The pickup in front of Luc exited the line of traffic and pulled over.

  Obeying his instincts, Luc did as well.

  Joining the small crowd, he saw they were all staring at a cat, so motionless and still it might have been dead. On the edge of the group, a teenage girl clutched her friend and cried in noisy, gasping gulps.

  “What happened?” Luc asked quietly.

  “I didn’t mean to hit him.” The girl spoke so fast her words ran together. “He came out of nowhere and…the sun was in my face, and…” She resumed her sobbing.

  Kneeling, Luc inspected the small animal. Except for the blood, if he’d come across the cat anywhere else, he’d have believed it only slept.

  “Is he dead?” one of the women asked.

  “There’s no movement, no breathing that I can see.” Yet he sensed the animal’s life force, stubbornly remaining inside the cat’s body.

  He held his finger up, touching it to the nose. An almost imperceptible response told him he’d been right.

  “He’s still alive.”

  Immediately, the teenager stopped crying, turning tearstained and reddened cheeks to him. “We’ve got to get him to the vet.”

  “I’ll do it,” Luc said. No one questioned his authoritative tone. “I’ve got to be careful how I lift him—he might have internal injuries.”

  Removing his shirt, despite two older women’s wide-eyed reaction, he stated, “I’m going to put this down and someone can help me lift him onto it. We’ll use the shirt like a stretcher.” Luckily he had a spare T-shirt in the backseat.

  The teenager stepped forward. “Let me do it. I’m the one who hit him.”

  Once the still-unconscious cat had been placed on the backseat, Luc sped to Patricia’s veterinary clinic. The parking lot was empty save for a few employees’ cars. Patricia’s pickup wasn’t in her regular spot.

  The receptionist looked up as he pushed through the door. “Can I help you?”

  “I have an emergency. Can you call Patricia—Dr. Lelane? Please?” In a few words, he explained the urgent situation and his rush to save the small animal, which was still unconscious in the back of his car.

  The receptionist picked up the phone and dialed. Speaking softly for a moment, she eventually nodded and replaced the receiver. “She’s on her way,” she said.

  “I’ll be out by my vehicle. I’m afraid to move the cat.” At her nod, he went outside to wait.
>
  The phone rang one more time. Watching for Patricia, Sam considered letting the call go to her answering machine, but at the last minute she sprinted for the kitchen and grabbed the receiver.

  “Sam, I’m sorry.” It was Patricia, sounding frustrated. “We’ll have to do the test another time. I’ve got a wounded cat that was hit by a car waiting for me at the clinic. Katie says he is in pretty bad shape. Some man brought him in. Can you meet me there, just in case?”

  “Sure. Make certain the back door is unlocked.”

  “I will. See you in a few minutes.”

  Luc prowled around outside his car, the unconscious cat inside. Though he hadn’t smelled death when he handled the feline, he knew in some cases passing away would be more merciful.

  He had a sad feeling this might be one of those. The wolf in him wanted to celebrate life, to run free. Ruthlessly, he squashed the urge to change.

  Patricia’s pickup pulled into the parking lot. Luc waved, pointing at his car.

  She parked in her usual spot. A moment later, head up, an angry look glinting in her eyes, she strode toward him. “I can’t believe you ran over a cat.”

  “I didn’t.” Briefly, he explained what had happened.

  Her expression softened. “Where is it?”

  He opened the back door. “I used my shirt as a makeshift stretcher.”

  “Excellent. Help me get it inside.”

  Grasping one side, he waited until Patricia had taken the other. Moving slowly, they carried the animal in, going down a long hallway to an examining room.

  “Put it down here. Gently, gently.”

  Once he’d done as she asked, Patricia gave Luc a quick once-over before turning her attention back to the wounded animal. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Are you going to have to euthanize it?”

  Distracted, she didn’t look up. “I don’t know. I’ve got to see how badly he’s hurt.”

  Luc didn’t move. “You know as well as I do that he has internal injuries.”

  “There’s no way to tell that for sure without an X-ray.” The vet’s tone was brusque, the look she gave him sharp.

  Suddenly, he realized what she meant to do. He knew as instinctively as the distraught teenager who’d hit the cat that the feline was beyond saving. The fact that he’d lived this long with no doubt massive internal injuries was a good sign, but he read the truth in Patricia’s carefully averted face.

  The cat would die unless a miracle occurred. And Patricia just happened to have access to her own private source of miracles.

  She was going to call in Sam to heal the cat.

  If she did and the animal lived, he’d know without a doubt Sam had lied to him. The thought was bitter.

  “I’ll wait.” Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall.

  “Why?” Though she acted professional, Luc read the hostility in Patricia’s tone. “This isn’t even your cat.”

  “I love cats,” he lied. At best, felines and shifters existed with an uneasy truce. “Since I brought him in, I feel a personal interest in his welfare. I want to make sure he’s all right.”

  Patricia sighed. “All right, but you’ll need to take a seat out in the waiting room. I’ll keep you apprised of the cat’s prognosis.”

  He did as she asked, though instead of sitting, he chose to stand in front of the large window. From here he could see not only the parking lot, but also the street heading east and west. When Sam’s car pulled in, he’d know it.

  Barely ten minutes later, he spotted her blue compact. She swung into a parking spot beside Patricia’s truck. Heart pounding, Luc watched as she got out and hurried around to the back of the building. As he’d suspected she would.

  Drumming his fingers on the window, he knew he had to figure out a way to get back there and see what happened for himself.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  Turning, he saw the veterinary assistant had come from the back. “I’m terribly sorry, but Dr. Lelane has asked me to let you know the cat you brought in didn’t make it.”

  “What?” He stared. On the verge of demanding proof, he grudgingly realized Sam could have arrived too late. Still, something about this didn’t feel quite right.

  “The cat is dead,” she reiterated gently. “I’m sorry.”

  “May I see him?”

  The young woman frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “May I see the cat?”

  She looked away. “No, I’m sorry, sir. The doctor will take care of disposing of him.” Starting to hurry away, she apparently remembered something at the last moment and turned. “Oh, and Dr. Lelane said she’d cover the cost. You don’t have to worry about paying anything.” With that, she vanished into the back room.

  He thought about following her, but didn’t. Walking out to the parking lot, instead of going to his rental car, he went around to the back door. Trying the handle, he found it locked. Sam must have locked it after her.

  Two could play this game. Because of Lucy, he had to know. He would wait and confront Sam when she came out. If she had been able to perform any miracles, he figured he’d be able to tell, somehow.

  If there was even the smallest possibility that Sam was a healer, he had to get her to New York in time to prevent Lucy’s death.

  Stepping into the shadow of a huge pecan tree, Luc settled down to wait.

  Locking the back door behind her, Sam hurried to the operating room. On the table lay a huge gray cat, barely breathing.

  “Is he…?”

  “Not yet. He’s severely injured. There’s nothing else I can do for him. He’s dying.” Urgency made Patricia’s tone clipped. “Touch him.”

  Taking a deep breath, Sam moved forward. Laying her hands lightly on the wounded animal, she glanced at her friend. From just this, a whisper-soft touch, she could feel the cat’s weakened life force trying to slip away.

  Something inside her flared. Connected. Burned its way through her fingers into the feline and tugged on the animal’s damaged spirit.

  While she wasn’t entirely sure how this healing gift of hers worked, she knew the energy flowed from the inside out, helping the animal heal itself.

  Patricia stroked the cat’s head, respectfully silent. She knew once the healing process started, it couldn’t be interrupted.

  The animal made a sound, a cross between a moan and a whimper. Echoes of pain radiated from feline to woman, making Sam flinch.

  Heal.

  Concentrating, she closed her eyes. Her hands sizzled, unbearably hot, but she bore the burning with only the barest hitch in her breath.

  The cat whimpered again.

  Pain, so much pain. He’d been chasing a squirrel, gaining on the rodent, when the car had come out of nowhere. The cat knew to avoid the motorized monster, but intent on his prey, he’d never had a chance. Sam saw images of metal and panic, teeth and claws and blood—exploding in agony.

  Heart pounding in her chest, she kept her hands in place. Heal. Her entire body vibrated, like a hummingbird yearning for nectar, and she tasted the faint metallic tang of blood as she bit her tongue.

  The cat moaned, still unconscious, writhing in pain. Inside, Sam stifled an answering groan. As she melded with him, they thought as one. She felt what he did, and vice versa. How or why this happened, she dared not question, for fear of destroying the gift.

  Gradually, the feline went still. His breathing steadied, heartbeat normal and strong. Finally, he slept, pain free.

  All at once, the heat left her palms, and her spirit disconnected. Done.

  “There.” Opening her eyes, Sam removed her hands from the cat’s fur and took a deep, shuddering breath. “He’s all better.”

  “Girl, if we do find out your gift works on people…” Patricia clapped her on the shoulder. “Thank you so much. Now go home, go to bed. I know what healing does to you. You look exhausted.”

  “I am.” Sam searched her friend’s freckled face. “What will happen to him now?”

&n
bsp; “I’ll try to find someone to take him. I’ll make some calls. If he’s missing, we’ll find his owners. If not, surely someone will give a young cat like this a home.”

  “I want him.” Sam spoke without hesitation, knowing bone-deep that this was the right thing for her.

  Patricia’s mouth fell open. “You want him? Why? You’ve never had a pet.”

  “I know.” Sam laughed at Patricia’s amazement. “But I think it’s time. He can be my watch-cat.”

  Shaking her head, her friend grinned. “Fine. If no one comes forward to claim him, since you healed him, he’s yours.”

  “Good.” Sam took a step back and nearly fell. “I need to get home.” Her voice sounded guttural, low and exhausted.

  “You look horrible,” Patricia exclaimed. “I keep a cot in the storeroom. Would you like to lie down on that?”

  “No.” Sam closed her eyes and felt the room move. Swaying, she opened them again and grabbed for the counter. “I’d rather go home.”

  “I don’t think you should drive.”

  Raising her head, Sam blinked against the dizziness. “You’re probably right. Can you take a moment and run me home?”

  “Sure.” Patricia drew her hand over the cat’s silky fur. “But we’ll need to take this guy with us. Luc Herrick brought him in and was asking a lot of questions.”

  Sam looked down, biting her lip, unable to keep from swaying on her feet.

  “You need to sit down,” Patricia said in a firm voice. “Rest a minute and then we’ll get you and the cat out to my truck.”

  Pushing Sam gently onto her examination stool, she turned and carefully examined the still-unconscious animal. Then she gathered him in her arms. “Good as new.”

  Sam gave her friend a weak smile as Patricia helped her up in turn and herded her toward the door. “Once you and this kitty are settled comfortably in the truck, I’ll need to come back and let my receptionist know I’m out for an hour or so.”

  “What about your appointments?” Sam protested weakly.

  “The clinic is closed,” Patricia said. “My next one isn’t scheduled until tomorrow morning.”