Lupo howled again, glanced back at DiSanto and at Jessie, who stood back with the shotgun lowered—but ready—and lunged away from the vehicles, making for the woods in an incredibly fast, four-legged gallop.
DiSanto remembered to breathe when Jessie knocked on his window. She had collected Lupo’s clothes, badge and gun, and opened the door and handed them to him.
“Can you put these on his seat, please?”
DiSanto wanted to sound eloquent, but he blubbered.
“I know. Weird, huh? That’s our Nick. It’s not an easy thing for him, believe me.” She glanced around then gestured with a nod. “He’s gone for a run. Safe for you to switch cars. We have to be careful.” She held up the shotgun slightly. “Silver slugs, just like in the comics.”
“Uh uh,” he said, nodding. Sure, why not?
His hands shook and his fingertips tingled.
“Come on, I’ll fill you in a little. And he’ll follow us later. Sounds like you guys have a road trip planned.”
“Uh uh.” He nodded.
Cat got your tongue?
No, the wolf did.
DiSanto
They hadn’t been out of the hilly Kettle Moraine area for long when he suddenly grabbed the dashboard and held on as if falling off a cliff.
“Gotta stop the car!” he said, his jaw clenched.
Jessie glanced sideways and saw that the color had drained from DiSanto’s face.
The Pathfinder wobbled a little as she scanned the road ahead. Fortunately, there was one of those cloverleafs coming up that would offer limited choices in Gas, Food, and Lodging—looked like the Food was a choice between the ubiquitous McDonald’s, a Burger King, a convenience mart and a truck stop with a built-in diner. She swerved off the road and zoomed down the snaky ramp, turned right and zipped into the lot between a half dozen parked rigs and a short row of family sedans near the doors.
The second she pulled to a stop, he popped his belt and door and loped for the restaurant door, leaving her wondering in the car.
DiSanto shoved his way into the place, brushed past an elderly bow-legged trucker with toothpicks in his mouth, found the bathrooms and lunged into the men’s.
Thankfully, it was empty. Tinny, stringy Muzak did the opposite of soothe him. He locked himself in, leaned against the sink, and stared at himself. He was pale and drawn, his eyes hooded as if he hadn’t slept in days. He held up his hands and watched their reflections shaking. He put his hands down and gripped the sink, but then he felt the vibration in his forearms and when he looked up again, his own face was a stranger’s.
Jesus, Nick Lupo was a freaking…
What, what was he—a werewolf?
DiSanto allowed his breathing to slow and forced himself to take long, deep draughts of fresh air.
Well, it wasn’t quite fresh, but it was better than being in the car. Jessie Hawkins was great, and hot, and he’d just seen her tote a shotgun filled with silver slugs in case her boyfriend, the werewolf, went crazy and…
Great Scott, Larry Talbot!
He breathed as regularly as possible and replayed the scene in his mind. There was little doubt. He’d already pinched himself. No smoke, no mirrors. He had seen what he had seen.
His heart slowed. Maybe he wouldn’t upchuck after all.
Come to think of it, he realized that now some things about his partner made more sense. Some things that he’d almost rather not think about.
When he climbed back in the car, she asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t even hurl.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
“Look, Doc, I like Nick. He’s been a great partner. Sometimes he’s a little gruff, you know, a little impatient…”
“He’s Italian.” She smiled.
He liked seeing her smile. And if she could smile, maybe things weren’t so bad.
“So am I. But I’m a little less tightly wound. But maybe now I know why he’s the way he is.”
“He’s not happy about it. Or much of anything, really.”
She started up and nosed the car back onto the road to the freeway.
“I’m sorry about that, back there.”
“Don’t be.” Her eyes seemed suddenly a little watery. “You could have wanted to shoot him. He’s normal, you know, except for—”
“The wolf thing.”
“Yeah.” She chuckled. “The wolf thing.”
“Kinda cool, really.”
“You’d think. Gets messy though.”
They drove in silence for a while.
“Is he worried I won’t accept him now?” DiSanto asked nervously.
“We both were.”
“No worries. It’s kinda like being friends with Bruce Wayne, you know. He’s got a secret identity.”
She laughed, and he relaxed.
Facing him would be weird, though.
And now that he was on board, where would it all lead?
Chapter Twenty-One
Lupo
He ran on his four massive paws and reveled in the feeling of freedom, the cool fall air riffling through his fur. His nostrils were filled with the myriad scents that made the wolf form so pleasurable to be in.
It was almost like sex, and Lupo had learned over the years that the Change increased libido levels in humans. Though he hadn’t advertised the fact with the people with whom he had shared his secret, now he could enjoy the release that made his every cell, sinew, and nerve sing with a strangely alien chorus.
His jaws open to playfully catch the air, his eyes roving the woods as they went past in a blur, the shed leaves crunching under his paws, he loped in a great circle through the strongly scented wilderness area.
Lupo kept himself forcefully in control of the Creature, which would have taken over and hunted fresh meat had he loosened his hold. He’d fought hard to be able to stay in charge of the great animal’s body, and even though occasionally the Creature rebelled, Lupo had learned to maintain his human perspective. Even when it was filtered through the animal’s eyes, it was still human. When the Creature’s instincts were needed, Lupo could allow it more leeway, but if he gave too much it could be difficult to bring himself back.
His nose twitched as he caught the scent of a nearby snack, a rabbit who’d realized too late he was in the open. The rodent made a desperate attempt to zigzag its way out of trouble, but Lupo’s Creature was with him every step, his paws reaching out to bat the small, furry speedster to the forest floor now and then.
After a few minutes’ fun and games, the Creature accepted Lupo’s control and allowed the rabbit to roll himself into a ball and out of the way and hop back into the cover of the woods, mostly not the worse for wear.
Lupo gave the Creature another gallop back to where they’d met and he had left his car.
The Creature couldn’t help itself. A loud, ragged howl warned others in his territory that it was there and still hungry.
Just as he reached his car, the Creature’s nose caught the scent.
The scent.
The wolf who had murdered the innocent people had been sniffing around his car. And he’d urinated on it, a challenge the Creature chafed to accept. His fur standing up, his snout scrunched and his fangs flashing, Lupo chased around and around the car, growling and finally howling in frustration.
The enemy wolf had circled his car and disappeared in his own vehicle.
Lupo calmed the Creature’s rage—but not easily—and changed back. He took his clothes from where Jessie had left them and dressed in quick, jerky motions.
Why was his watcher making himself so obvious? And what was his game?
Safely on the road home, he checked his voice mail and heard Jessie’s brief message, which sounded pretty good. He voice-dialed DiSanto’s phone, not at all sure what DiSanto would say to him.
“Hey,” he said when DiSanto picked up.
“Hey, it’s Wolfman Jack.”
Lupo wasn’t sure whether to grin or frown. Sometim
es you just couldn’t tell with DiSanto.
“Teen Wolf. I Was a Teenage Werewolf. The Howling. The Wolf Man. An American Werewolf in London.”
“What’s your fucking point,” Lupo growled.
“Just that I’ve seen those all a dozen times each and never expected I’d be, uh, talking to one of them. Of you. You know.”
“Teen Wolf?”
“Hey, it’s better than Nicholson in Wolf.”
“Ironically, in that one they got it kind of right.”
“Really?”
“Strange but true.”
“Like you.”
“Plus they did have Michelle Pfeiffer.”
“You’ve got Jessie—she’s, uh, something, too.” His eyes widened. “Hey, is she also—?”
“No. Remember, she was holding the silver-loaded shotgun.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Look, are we still partners? Or are you thinking of sharpening the family silver?”
DiSanto paused to think. “Let’s give it a try, Lupo.”
“Only if I don’t have to watch my back, DiSanto.”
“Okay. Can we get a pizza now? I’m starving.”
“Me too.”
He clicked off and let himself smile a little. Things were going to hell again, but maybe he’d done the right thing, opening DiSanto’s eyes. Maybe now his partner would run interference for him with Killian.
While Lupo tried to figure out what the game was.
He was tired of being on one board only to find out the game was different.
Later he dropped DiSanto at his own car and turned back into traffic. They were meeting at the precinct to shuffle reports from the various canvasses and check on the autopsies, which were not likely to be done yet. They’d take some shit from Bakke, who’d taken it from the captain, who’d taken it from the commissioner, who most likely had heard from the mayor.
His phone buzzed and he popped it out of his pocket. It was Heather.
Thought about letting it go, but dammit, she’d brought them some useful information. Did he have to freeze out Heather just because Jessie disapproved?
Granted, he’d been bad. But that was then. He was much more solidly centered now. There was little chance he’d slip up again. Jessie was too good to lose.
“Yeah, Heather,” he said after making the quick decision.
“Hey, Lupo. I have some more information to pass on, where are you?”
“On the road back to the squad room.”
“I can swing by and talk to you there.”
He imagined DiSanto getting a load of Heather and realizing she was a wolf, too. Might not be the best idea.
“Heather, I’d rather come to you.”
“Promise?” Said with an obvious chuckle in her voice.
He sighed. “Where are you, I’ll drive over and you can fill me in.”
She gave him the name and address of her motel.
“No expense account?” he joked.
“Just get here.”
Killian
He parked his car right in front of Lupo’s old building and belched. The burning in his chest barely subsided.
He had a good set of burglar tools. In New York, he’d had connections in various communities, and he’d been known to bend the rules when necessary in his pre-IA days. He’d planted evidence, he’d conducted illegal searches, he’d tapped a phone or two—all strictly informational, of course. Anyway, he’d been taught by one of the best lockmen he’d ever arrested. He was in Lupo’s lobby in seconds, and at his door with his ear to the metal-reinforced door. He listened at the door, but there was nothing. The hall was empty. He popped the several locks easily—paranoid bastard, wasn’t he?—and pushed the door open to total silence.
Why hadn’t he done this before? All part of a misguided attempt to play by the rules. But when the bad cops didn’t play by the rules, why did he have to?
He went downstairs to fetch Marcowicz in his carpet roll. Killian was strong, so he got the whole bundle over one shoulder relatively easily. It was a work day, and the cold weather kept wanderers home. No one saw him. He was up the stairs and dropping the doctor’s bundle inside Lupo’s door in a minute flat. The halls were empty.
When he turned, a big guy was standing there, right in his face.
He was naked.
Killian looked down, despite himself. What the fuck?
The guy’s massive dick stood at attention mere inches from Killian. He recoiled back two stuttering steps. Then he looked up again, and the guy’s eyes seemed to swirl and change color and, before Killian could process it, the guy’s shape blurred. Killian blinked, his throat so tight he couldn’t have made a sound.
And then a black wolf stood there, where the guy had been.
Killian didn’t have time to make a sound, even if he could have.
Claws flashed, and fangs, and Killian’s raggedly severed head went bouncing back into Lupo’s place. His blood-spewing body sagged in place and fell in a heap on the doorsill.
The wolf licked its chops, dragged Killian like a sack into the room, then took his time slitting open the belly and nosing inside the squishy guts.
Mmmmmm, burritos.
Wilcox ate his fill.
Heather
When Lupo knocked, she called out, “It’s open.”
He came in and she was reclining on the stripped bed, her naked breasts thrusting at him like accusations.
“Jesus, Heather, cover up.”
She grinned. “Are you afraid, Lupo? Come on, don’t be a stranger.”
She had always been highly sexual, but the werewolf DNA passed on by the bite of that cruel Adonis, Tef, had somehow entwined with her already enhanced libido and made her even more outrageously hungry for pleasure.
Lupo stood near the bed but far enough away. He was clearly distressed. She cupped her own breasts and pointed the full nipples at him. “You could have these right now.”
He sighed. “Heather, I’ve got things to do. What do you want? Besides that?”
She grinned widely and rolled off the bed like a panther. She knew she’d have made a great panther. She wondered if there were any werepanthers in the world.
“Oh, okay, spoilsport. Go back to your girl next door. I bet she doesn’t do what I can do.”
“She does just fine,” Lupo growled.
“Oooh, maybe she does. I like that anger, Lupo.”
“Get to the fucking point!”
“Mostly I wanted to see you—”
He burst out, “What?”
She continued, “But I also wanted to tell you something about your friend Simonson.”
“Simonson? What do you—” His eyes widened. “Oh, no, not him too.”
Her eyes flashed. She smiled and came forward quickly, her violet-tipped hand cupping his genitals through his pants.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like this,” she said, panting. “I can tell you do.”
Lupo clearly wanted to back up, but he was trapped in her spell. She knew she did this to men. She’d done it to the best of them. She gave his bulge a long, slow caress, then released him. But then she reached his face with her lips and licked him like a she-wolf might her mate.
A low growl erupted from deep in her throat, and she nipped at his lips with her teeth.
He groaned, and she saw him starting to blur. His Creature, as he called the wolf within, wanted a piece of this. She chuckled and let herself start to go over. After Simonson, she’d had a taste for this, a new sensation.
But then he resolidified as Nick Lupo, and his strong right hand snatched her arm and squeezed painfully.
“Cut it out, Heather! I mean it. Don’t waste my time with your games.”
“You’re hurting me,” she said. He wasn’t, but she liked playing games.
“Simonson. What?”
She stared into his eyes and saw that he was no longer hers. She yanked her arm back, pouting playfully.
“Okay, Simonson and I got acquainted. I
—can’t be sure, but I think he might be one of us.”
“A werewolf? Makes no sense. He kept talking about how disgusting he found them.”
“Well, maybe he means the bad ones. He knows you wolf, right?”
“He saw my recon into the Georgia compound.”
“Where you almost got killed,” she said.
“Either way, he’s against the bad guys. He knows I killed a bunch of them, and he was glad. Did you see him turn?”
“No, I sensed that he—we—did. Well, we almost did. Maybe it was…just me.” She thought about it. Maybe she’d been wrong. “Whatever else he may be, I think he’s flaky. If you’re going into a situation with him, watch your back.”
“Is that it?” Lupo said coldly.
“I wanted to feel you inside me…” she said, hopefully.
“Good-bye, Heather,” he said, and slammed the door as he left.
Lupo
He couldn’t reach Jessie. She probably had her phone off, so should he try her at home or at the damned casino?
Damn it.
Heather made him angry, but her tidbit about Simonson was useful. The guy seemed wracked with PTSD. Could he trust him?
He still hadn’t seen any sign of Marcowicz. There hadn’t been any calls of illness or emergencies. Lupo had to wonder—had something happened to the doc because of him? And DiSanto’s close call? If so, wasn’t Jessie in danger?
He smacked the wheel.
Swing home or hit the casino?
Home was closer, so he zipped through the Marquette and swung north, aiming for the East Side. A throbbing rhythm in the back of his head started up, and he couldn’t get the traffic to move any faster. He wished he had a squad car.
Finally he pulled into his street, lined with newly bared trees like the naked arms of famine victims.
He recognized Killian’s car right away. He pulled into a space down the block and jogged back to his building.
What the fuck was Killian doing here?
Lupo nodded at a first-floor neighbor. On his floor, his door was ajar.
Lupo drew his Glock, racked the slide, and cautiously approached the gap. He nudged the door inward with the pistol’s muzzle. He had no idea what to expect, but his mind offered up images of a slaughtered female body. His heart pumped blood loudly through his body, pounding in his ears and all the way down to his fingertips. The Creature stirred down below, but he kept him down.
Wolf's Edge (The Nick Lupo Series Book 4) Page 25
