Shifting Again

by Shifting Again (ant

He headed down the hall then, an odd sensation prickling his spine as he walked past the uncovered glass doors leading onto the two-story deck. He told himself he was being silly. He was nestled in the foothills of a remote mountain chain, and he himself owned over twenty acres of private forestland. No way would anyone be watching him.

  ***

  Humans. Soren padded across the deck where he'd been sitting, watching the new arrival talk to himself. He said a silent prayer of thanks that he'd been born part of a superior race, then jumped onto the soft grass beneath the wooden structure. Time to head back to Kyran and report that their new neighbor posed them no threat.

  Soren glided back into the woods. The spring breeze engulfed him with the scents of the forest, and Soren allowed himself a long, grateful breath. With his enhanced sense of smell, he caught a whiff of fox and an underlying hint of rabbit. He was just considering whether or not to give chase when his nose ferreted out a more sinister odor. Shifters, at least four, headed straight for him. And if the fragrance of arousal hanging in the air was any indication, they meant him no good will.

  Soren's first thought was to hide, but almost as soon as the notion came to him, he discounted it. He was a member of Clan Thorn, a group of proud warriors who served the Alpha Kyran and his consort. If Soren was the target of these shifters, he'd go down fighting. His Alpha would expect no less of him.

  Bracing himself for the coming confrontation, Soren crouched beneath a wide oak and waited. Less than a minute later, five wolves--four black and one gray--broke through the clearing.

  Soren faced them down, baring his teeth and bristling the hair on his back to send a clear message: don't fuck with me.

  The wolves took a collective step away from him, and Soren thought at first they were going to back down. Before he could rejoice in his good fortune, a tall human dressed all in black stepped into the path the wolves had made for him.

  The first thing Soren noticed about the man was that he had no scent. Normally Soren could smell a human from miles away, but this man's scent was lost amongst the fragrances of the forest and the other wolves. He was still puzzling over it when he realized the stranger was holding a rifle in his hand.

  Soren was frozen in place as the man lifted the rifle, took aim, and fired a bullet into the dead center of Soren's chest.

  ***

  Ryan woke to the feel of sunlight spilling across his face from the uncovered bedroom windows. He grumbled over the intrusion and climbed out of bed. His leg was killing him, and he felt groggy and disoriented as if he hadn't slept.

  What he needed was coffee and aspirin--in that order. He was halfway to the kitchen when a blinding pain lanced through his chest. Ryan's leg buckled and he went down hard.

  He lay with his face pressed against the hardwood floor. At first he thought one of his old chest wounds had broken open, but a careful check proved nothing was bleeding. The pain faded as quick as it came, and Ryan struggled to his feet.

  Help me.

  Ryan fell back against the wall, barely remaining upright this time. His eyes darted up and down the hall, but he saw no one.

  He pressed a hand over his racing heart. Of course no one was there. Hadn't he bought this place over the promise of solitude? Ryan took a deep breath. Maybe he was more tired than he'd thought.

  With one hand braced against the wall for support, Ryan made his way into the kitchen. He started the coffeemaker he'd filled the night before, then rummaged around in one of the boxes until he found the aspirin. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, popped the pills into his mouth, and took a long swallow.

  Help me.

  Water and aspirin spewed from Ryan's mouth. The open water bottle slid from his fingers and splashed all over the tile floor, but Ryan paid it no mind. He was too busy focusing on the voice in his head.

  "Who's there?"

  No one answered, not that Ryan really expected them to. He wasn't a believer in the supernatural--not by any means--but he was too self-aware to deny the truth: someone was speaking directly into his mind.

  Ryan closed his eyes. Where are you?

  Again, no answer. Ryan scrubbed a hand across his face. Maybe that shrink he'd fired was right. Maybe he did need therapy.

  In the woods. Five hundred yards from the back deck.

  Ryan froze. In the woods? What the hell was somebody doing on his private property?

  Don't...don't let me die.

  Ryan waffled. Only a fool would go charging into the woods on the say-so of a disembodied phantom. Scenes from every serial-killer-in-the-basement flick he'd ever watched came rushing back to him, and he was about ready to discard the whole episode as some post-traumatic breakdown when the voice sounded again.

  Too much pain. Not long now.

  The words were weak, as if the speaker was fading. It was that tone--the tone of a man who's two steps away from death--that pushed Ryan into action. Danger or not, he couldn't sit still while someone died. Not after he'd sworn to do no harm.

  Even so, Ryan wasn't fool enough to go charging in blind. He hopped over to the living room to the boxes he'd placed there last night. A quick scan of the labels yielded the one he was looking for, and Ryan experienced a brief moment of triumph when he located his bag. He pulled it free before going to the hall closet and grabbing the loaded .12 gauge he'd stuck in there yesterday morning.

  Navigating the back steps with a bum leg and full hands wasn't easy, but Ryan managed. He took a second to catch his breath at the bottom, then forced his leaden feet onto the overgrown path leading into the woods.

  The dense canopy overhead made it darker inside than it should have been at eight a.m., but that wasn't what gave Ryan a case of the chills. No, what bothered him was the utter lack of sound. No birds chirping, no insects humming, and no small animals scurrying for cover. Ryan was enveloped in a cocoon of silence.

  You're close.

  Ryan swallowed. Give me something to go on.

  Keep to the path.

  Ryan did as he was told. The trail wound around a clump of struggling elms, then emptied into a narrow clearing. Ryan stepped into it, and his blood went cold.

  Not ten feet in front of him lay the biggest wolf Ryan had ever seen. A horrific comprehension came on Ryan, then. The injured man he'd come to help must've been attacked by this monster. He'd have to shoot the thing before he could help the guy.

  Ryan's fingers were shaking as he eased his bag onto the ground at his feet. With short, jerky movements he lifted the shotgun to his shoulder.

  The wolf opened one eye.

  Did you come to help me or to finish me off?

  Ryan dropped the gun. No way was this possible.

  Human, either get over here and help me or pick up that damn gun and put me out of my misery. The wolf sank back into himself as if the very act of thinking had exhausted him. His breathing was labored and erratic.

  They were running out of time, and Ryan knew it.

  Leaving the shotgun to lie in the dirt, Ryan picked up his bag. He crouched into what he hoped was a non-threatening position and knee-walked the short distance to the wolf. Ryan's leg wasn't going to thank him for it later, but he had bigger things to worry about now, like not getting his face bitten off.

  "Nice wolf. Good wolf." Ryan stretched out a trembling hand and placed it on the wolf's back. "Easy now. I promise I won't hurt you."

  Ryan wasn't sure, but he thought maybe he'd been given the mental version of an eyeball roll.

  "Right then, you know I'm here to help you." He ran his fingers up and down the wolf's silky pelt. "You aren't going to like this, but I have to see where you're hurt."

  With concentrated effort, the wolf rolled sideways so that his stomach was visible.

  Only years of experience kept Ryan from blanching. He knew a gunshot wound when he saw one, and this one had done a number on the wolf's chest. Blood pumped through a gaping hole in a steady rhythm that should have already killed the animal.

  Ryan pulled a
penlight from his bag and shined it on the wound. A silver glint shone back at him. The bullet was still inside.

  What?

  "The bullet's lodged in your chest wall." Ryan wasn't sure what startled him more, that he was beginning to get used to having someone else inside his head, or that the wolf had sensed his tension. "It has to come out before the wound can be repaired."

  So take it out, already.

  "I'm a human doctor," Ryan said. "I don't know enough about animal anatomy not to kill you with my efforts."

  The wolf lifted his head just enough so that his luminous green eyes were boring into Ryan's.

  Move back.

  Ryan scooted away, the hair on the backs of his arms standing on end as a humming energy swept through the clearing. The wolf's form seemed to shimmer for a minute, and then pink flesh took over where black fur used to be.

  His first thought was to run, but Ryan seemed to be rooted to the spot as he watched the wolf morph into a full grown, naked man. The guy was tall and rippling with lean muscle, but that wasn't what got Ryan's attention. What hit him was the wound. It looked ever worse from this angle, and Ryan was certain he wouldn't be able to save the man without a full surgical team to support him.

  No hospitals. Not for my kind.

  Ryan was back at his side in an instant. "You'll die if you don't get some help."

  "Then help me." The green eyes closed.

  Ryan swore under his breath, but he didn't argue. He knew what he had to do, and there was no use postponing the inevitable.

  He pulled a pair of rubber gloves and a scalpel from his bag. "Under normal circumstances I'd take you back up to the house, but I'm in no shape to do it by myself, and you're too weak to make the trip on your own steam."

  He got only a slight nod in response.

  Ryan gritted his teeth. "This is going to hurt like hell, but I don't have the stuff to knock you out."

  Do it.

  Ryan took a deep breath and went to work. His patient didn't make so much as a sound while Ryan dug and prodded. The bullet was firmly implanted in the wall of muscle, and it seemed like forever before the thing finally sprang free.

  "I've got it," Ryan said. "Looks like it missed all the major arteries, but you've lost a lot of blood."

  The man didn't say anything, and Ryan realized with relief that he'd passed out somewhere during the process.

  That made the rest of Ryan's job easier. With a skill born from years of practice, Ryan stitched together damaged tissues and torn skin. When at last he was done, he slathered the man's chest with antibiotic cream and then wrapped him in a thick layer of bandages.

  The patient came awake just as Ryan was finishing up. He said nothing, just watched Ryan with those too-big eyes of his.

  Ryan put the last piece of tape in place. "That'll hold you until I can get help."

  "My people..." The voice was raspy and thick. "We have a doctor."

  Ryan got the gist of it. "How do I get in touch with him?"

  A slight shake of the head and then the man closed his eyes again. Ryan knew without having to be told that he was sending a silent message.

  The stranger's eyes popped open, again. "Coming."

  Ryan nodded. Nothing to do now but wait.

  ***

  He didn't know who or what to expect, so Ryan was greatly relieved when four normal looking men stepped into the clearing. He rose on shaky legs to great them, then extended one hand to a man of about seventy who seemed to be in charge.

  "You're the doctor?"

  "Yes." The doctor took Ryan's hand in an iron grip. "How is he?"

  "Stable, but he's lost a lot of blood and his pulse is thready."

  The doctor watched Ryan closely for a minute. "Somehow I get the feeling I'm in the presence of a colleague."

  "I'm a surgeon," Ryan said. "Or I used to be, anyway. Name's Ryan Hightower."

  "Paxton Elliguard. Delighted to meet you, Dr. Hightower."

  It had been over a year since anyone called him that, and the title sounded strange to Ryan's ears.

  If Dr. Elliguard noticed Ryan's discomfort, he didn't let on. Instead, he said, "On behalf of Clan Thorn, I want to thank you for taking care of Soren for us."

  Soren. Ryan looked back at the man lying still on the ground. The name suited him.

  Ryan directed his gaze back to Elliguard. "So you...you're all..."

  One of the men who'd come in with Elliguard growled low in his throat. Ryan backed up a step, certain he was about to be attacked.

  "Peace, Roderick." Elliguard held up one hand. "Soren has obviously decided to trust this human with his secrets, and so should we." Elliguard turned back to Ryan. "Soren was wolven when you found him?"

  Ryan nodded.

  "Damn." Elliguard's face lost some of it's color. "That means there's no way we can safely move him back to the village."

  Ryan was about to ask Elliguard to explain when the tall, burly man on the other side of Roderick came forward.

  "What Dr. Elliguard means," he said, "is that Soren had to use most of his energy to complete the change. Moving him all the way back home would deplete the rest of his energy stores--energy he needs to heal himself." The man looked Ryan over with near-black eyes for a full minute, then stuck out his beefy hand. "I'm Jacques de Beck. Soren is my brother." His eyes fell on Soren, and Ryan caught a glimpse of emotion before Jacques blinked it away. "I owe you a great debt."

  "You don't owe me anything." Ryan shook with him. "I'm only sorry I can't do more for him."

  "Actually," Elliguard said, "there's one more favor you can grant us."

  "Oh?"

  "You live in the house just beyond the trees, correct?"

  Ryan wasn't sure if Elliguard knew this because Soren had told him during their silent communication, or if something more sinister was going on. Either way, Ryan had a bad feeling he'd stuck his neck out only to have it stretched across the chopping block.

  Elliguard was watching him closely. "Dr. Hightower?"

  "What? Oh, sorry. Yes." Ryan wet his lips. "I mean, yes, I just finished moving in there yesterday." Recognition hit. "You want to move Soren to my place."

  Elliguard nodded. "It should be safe enough to move him such a short distance." Something dark twisted across his face. "I dare not leave him here should our enemy return."

  "You know who did this to him?"

  "Not yet," the one named Roderick said, "but you bet your ass we're going to find out."

  Ryan shivered despite himself.

  Jacques caught the movement. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll post sentries at all points around your house. I swear to you, you'll be well-protected if the man who did this to Soren comes back."

  Maybe, but Ryan couldn't help but wonder who'd protect him from the sentries themselves.

  "You don't have to do this," Soren's rasping whisper broke into Ryan's thoughts. "Not if you're scared."

  Ryan stared a moment at the dark shadow of Soren's jaw. Racked with pain as he was, it was hard to get a firm hold on Soren's features, but it was clear to Ryan that the man was proud and struggling badly with the notion he needed help. It was a good sign that Soren was once again conscious, but he was far from being out of the danger zone.

  Ryan bit back a sigh. He might not be a practicing physician anymore, but the oath he'd sworn to do no harm still held. He took one last look at Soren, swallowed hard, and said, "Follow me up to the house and I'll show you where to put him."

  ***

  Soren woke by degrees, his eyes so heavy it took him a moment to work the lids open. A familiar smell filled his nostrils, the mingled scents of the fresh outdoors and a warm odor Soren could only describe as home. Jacques.

  Soren managed to open his eyes the rest of the way so that he was looking up and into his brother's face. "What happened?"

  Jacques frowned down at him. "You don't remember?"

  Soren willed his fogged brain to clear. He was in an unfamiliar bed, in a strange room, and it took him
a minute to remember how he'd gotten there. "I was shot. Damn. I'd hoped it was all a dream."

  "I wish." Jacques pushed a lock of hair off Soren's forehead. "You scared the hell out of me, little brother."

  Soren almost smiled, but then the rest of what happened came rolling back to him. "The hunter, he--"

  "You were shot by a hunter? You mean this was all some weird poaching accident?"

  Soren shook his head as best he could, considering he felt as if he had twenty pounds of sand weighting down his skull. "The guy who shot me was human, but he walked in the company of weres."