by Laura Bickle
“I don’t know,” Renan said. “I was hoping that you would have ideas.”
“Nothing yet.” Sandy was playing it close to the vest.
Her radio chirped. “Sheriff, we’ve got an identification on that car from the hospital.”
Sandy keyed her radio. “What’s your twenty?”
“County Road 586, near the abandoned church.”
“Copy. I’ll meet you there.” Sandy turned back to me. “We’ll continue this talk later.” He pointed to the deputy. “You. Get back up on the road and keep an eye out for any more hidden houseguests.”
“Yessir.”
Sandy headed out of the house. Her deputy turned to follow, but Celeste had painted a sweet smile on her face. She pressed a muffin and a cup of coffee into his hands.
“Thank you for being a dear and guarding the house.”
The deputy stared at the cranberry orange muffin and promptly stuffed it in his face. “Thank you, Ms. Summerwood.”
We watched him as he walked up the driveway to the road.
Celeste parked a muffin in front of Renan on a saucer. He inhaled it in two bites as she poured coffee. I went to the fridge to get some of the promised chicken for Bristol. He leaned against me and wagged his tail as I warmed it up with cooked rice and mashed it with a fork.
“Are you feeling like eating now?” I asked him as I put the mash in a plate to set on the floor.
Yesyesyesyes, he said, burying his nose in his plate.
Celeste sat opposite Renan, tapping her purple nails on the table. “Now. Tell me the whole story. Start to finish. And don’t leave anything out.”
IT TOOK RENAN A BASKET of muffins and a half-pound of bacon to get through his story. Celeste put some eggs on, cracking them against the side of the cast-iron skillet she’d threatened him with. Bristol was given a scrambled egg, but I was mindful not to overfeed him in his recovering state.
“And you have no idea how this Tooth of Thralls works?” Celeste demanded.
Renan shook his head. “I only know Silva kept it with him, and that it had something to do with the first time he was changed into a maned wolf. Him, and the others in the Casimir.”
I frowned. “So he’s got shifters in his collection. And other magical artifacts.”
“Yeah. Silva definitely made other shifters, but I don’t know what all he was able to do before I came into the picture. I do know that he’s got a treasure trove of magical artifacts.” His mouth turned down. “Fortunately, I haven’t seen that shirt made from human skin in action.”
I shredded a piece of bacon with my fingers. “Is it possible that Silva has a bird?”
“He’s got a bird. What do you mean?”
I described the harpy eagle I’d seen. “But the good news is that Celeste’s wards worked. It can’t cross into our property.”
“Yet,” Celeste grumbled. “This is worse than I thought. It’s only a matter of time until the Casimir are on our doorstep.”
“But you can do that thing...with the pots and pans...” Renan flung his hand around the kitchen. “And the cops are here.”
“That won’t mean much of anything,” Celeste said.
Renan rubbed his ribs.
I jerked my chin at him. “Let me see.”
The corner of his mouth turned down, but he lifted his shirt. A purple bruise covered his ribs, but the edges were already starting to fade to green. “I dunno. It seems like your aunt is plenty dangerous enough to me.”
“A kitchen tornado isn’t enough to fight an army of Casimir,” Celeste said.
“Celeste is an air witch,” I supplied.
He lifted an eyebrow. “And an excellent cook, and I appreciate you feeding me before I take off. The Casimir will be looking for me.”
Impulsively, I reached for his hand. “It’s okay. We’ll hide you.”
His hand was warm, and his fingers twined around mine. His hazel eyes were soft, the color of moss. “That’s too much to ask. These people are dangerous. I should hit the road.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Celeste poured more coffee into his mug. “We need your help to fight them.”
He exchanged glances with Celeste, then with me, and finally with Bristol, who was attempting to beg a piece of bacon from his plate. I thought of the locket charm still in my pocket. Somehow, I knew he could help.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I didn’t want to say that Renan smelled a bit like wet dog, but he did. He smelled like an intriguing wet dog, but dog, nonetheless.
I led him upstairs to the clawfoot bathtub, turning on the hot water tap. I kept the salt and potions on their shelf, away from the bathwater. I didn’t want any unforeseen magical interactions to happen, since I wasn’t sure what magic had already been used on him. I found soft towels, then dug into my closet to find some fresh clothes for him. I found some sweats that belonged to Dalton that I’d forgotten to give back to him.
Dalton. A lump rose in my throat. I hated getting him mixed up in this. He’d nearly died. Still might. I felt that if maybe I’d been straight with him from the start, told him I was a witch to begin with, that maybe this all wouldn’t have happened.
I returned to the bathroom to find Renan pulling his shirt over his head. I paused to gaze at his bruised abs. The damage from Celeste’s skillet looked like it ached, but I was momentarily memorized. The man worked out. A lot.
I looked away as the shirt came off. “I brought you some clothes.”
“Thank you,” he said, crossing the bathroom to take the sweats from me.
“If it’s all right,” I began. “I’d like to see that wound on your leg. Make sure it’s healing all right. After your bath, if you want to...”
“Of course.” He shucked out of his pants immediately, and he was standing before me in just his shorts.
My heart fluttered, but I forced that flutter down. I knelt before him to inspect the wound, determined to keep my gaze where it belonged. Below his knee, his leg was crossed by a faint red weal. I would not have recognized that scar as my own handiwork except for the small dents on either side that suggested the locations of stitches I’d placed. Gently, I probed his knee, feeling that the kneecap was solid. My fingers traced below, feeling the tibia and fibula solid and stable.
“You do good work,” he said.
“That looks like it’s six months old,” I murmured. “You do heal fast.”
“It’s a good thing. I’ve done some things for the Casimir that I’m not proud of. Things that would have killed me if I didn’t heal like this.” His voice was sharp with regret.
I looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He blew out his breath. “Do you think...do you think that there’s some way to take this curse away? To change me back to what I was?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. His expression was somber, brows drawn together. I wanted to reach up and wipe it away from his face. I wanted to tell him that I could fix everything, but I couldn’t. I was just a witch who talked to animals. I was not a great sorceress. I could unzip Labrador retrievers and set bones. I couldn’t erase curses.
“All I can do is try,” I promised. I didn’t know what to do with this feeling he inspired in me, this intense fascination.
He reached down to cup my cheek in his warm hand. “You’re my only hope,” he said.
He drew me to my feet, his fingers tangling in my hair. My heart thudded in my ribcage as his head dipped down, down for a kiss.
And my cell phone rang.
A sigh gritted through my teeth, and I reached into my back pocket for my phone. His hand fell away, and I immediately regretted its absence.
“Hello,” I said into the phone.
“Luna Summerwood?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Dr. Solon at Memorial Hospital. Dalton Boyce is awake, and he’s asking for you.”
“I’ll be right there.” I swallowed hard and turned to face Renan. “I have to go.”
He nodded at me, his eyes churning and soulful. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
I sure hoped so. He was a riddle I fully intended to solve by any means necessary.
CHAPTER 12
“Luna. You came.”
Dalton smiled up at me from his hospital bed. His voice was low, raspy, but I was relieved that his vocal cords hadn’t been too seriously damaged. He looked like hell, but he still sounded like Dalton.
I stood at the side of his bed, and he reached for my hand. “Sandy told me that you saved my life.”
I shook my head. “I just did what anyone would.”
“No. You saved me. I could feel it.” He squeezed my hand. “I was going in and out of consciousness, but I could feel your hand on my neck the whole time. I knew I was going to be okay.”
I swallowed, a lump rising in my throat. “You wouldn’t have been there in the first place if not for me.”
He shook his head slightly, but seemed winded at the effort. “No. I needed to know. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I don’t want you to hold things back from me, okay?”
I nodded, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I loosened it enough to say: “There’s magic here. I don’t think you’re going to believe me.”
“Try me.”
I took a deep breath. “The maned wolf you brought me?”
“Yeah. How’s he doing?”
“Currently taking a bath in Celeste’s tub. He’s a shapeshifter.”
Dalton’s brows drew together. I told him the story, unembellished, omitting the part about Renan’s amazing abs.
Dalton stared at me. “You’re talking about all of this like it’s real.”
“It is. I promise.”
Dalton stared up at the ceiling. “This all sounds like a bad dream. I...”
A knock sounded at the door, and the hospitalist on rounds came in. “How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.
“Pretty good, all things considering,” Dalton said.
The hospitalist glanced at me. “I need to do a quick exam.”
“She can stay,” Dalton affirmed.
The doctor took his vitals and tapped on the computer station affixed to the wall. “You’re doing amazingly well—so much better than I would have expected, given your CT images.”
I glanced over his shoulder. I was no expert on human anatomy, but the CT image that popped up showed a whole lot of damage to Dalton’s neck.
The hospitalist sat on a stool and scooted close to Dalton. “Let’s take a look at that dressing.” Gently, he began to peel at the bandage covering Dalton’s neck and a good portion of his shoulder.
The doctor’s brows drew together. “Um.”
Standing on Dalton’s opposite side, I gasped. The bandage was stained with old, rusty blood, looking like coffee grounds. But Dalton’s shoulder and neck...they were only reddened, and the skin had closed. The stitches that were installed in the operating room had popped away. He looked as if the wound had happened weeks ago.
He looked like Renan.
“What’s wrong, Doc?” Dalton asked.
“Nothing,” the hospitalist said, running his gloved fingers over the wound. “You’re healing up well. Insanely well. I...” He glanced back at the computer on the wall. “You’re Dalton Boyce, right?” He made Dalton recite his date of birth.
“Okay.” The doctor took a deep breath. “I’m going to put in an order for another CT. I want to see what’s going on inside. And, um...check some things with the records department...”
The doctor retreated from the room.
Dalton reached up and touched his throat. “Does it look that bad?”
“No.” I reached into my purse for a compact that contained powder. The powder was mostly broken out of it, but the mirror was still good. I scrubbed the makeup off the mirror with my sleeve and gave it to Dalton.
He stared into it, running his fingers along his neck. “Oh.” His brows wrinkled. “It’s like it was all a dream, wasn’t it?”
I swallowed. “I don’t think so.”
He caught my hand. “You...you healed me. I know it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I mean, I never had much healing ability before...”
“You kept me from dying,” he insisted. “I felt your hand on my throat.”
“Dalton,” I said. “You were bitten by a wolf. A wolf that might have been a shapeshifter.”
His pulse monitor beeped sharply. This was stressing him out. Nurses came into the room to usher me away, but before they did, he whispered at me:
“I would rather believe in you.”
I RAN INTO SANDY IN the hallway outside Dalton’s room. The shiner haloing her eye was a lurid purple, but I made myself not stare at it.
“Is he awake?” Sandy asked.
I nodded. “He’s doing great.”
Sandy blew out a breath and rubbed her forehead. The woman had been on duty for going on twenty-four hours now. “That’s a relief.”
“Is there any more word on those art thieves?”
She frowned. “We found their rental SUV abandoned, on the road. Nothing remarkable about it, nothing left behind. Well...only thing remarkable about it was that it was covered in dog hair and it reeked. I’m assuming that one of those guys has a wolf dog that attacked Dalton.”
I nodded. That sounded like a reasonable hypothesis for a reasonable world. “Where did those guys crawl off to?”
“They have to be somewhere. I’ve got extra patrols out on the road looking for them. No suspicious registrations at motels. They’re gonna turn up somewhere, even if it’s just to pick up a pizza.”
I nodded. If the Casimir took over and devoured a pen of hogs, I was betting that they’d need more than a pizza. And I didn’t want to think about what happened to poor Aaron and his horse. When I did, my stomach turned. But I had to ask. “How’s Aaron’s kid doing?”
“Surprisingly well. Max’s aunt has told him everything that happened was a bad dream. He’s accepting that for now. Gonna get the kid into therapy.”
“I have their dog, Bristol,” I said. “I’ll keep him as long as they need me to. Or forever, I...just tell them I’m so sorry.” This felt awful. I stared down at my boots.
“That’s good of you, Luna. I’ll let them know. And I’ll keep you posted on the investigation, too.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t worry, Luna. We’ll find the assholes who did this.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
I arrived home to find a Department of Natural Resources Jeep parked on the road by the mailbox. I pulled my pickup into the driveway to keep from blocking the road. The sheriff’s cruiser was a few yards distant, and the deputy inside was talking with a man leaning over the driver’s side window.
A man in a ranger uniform walked toward me.
“Can I help you?” I asked. They’d obviously been cleared by the deputy, but I was still wary of strangers on the property.
The ranger looked at me from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. “Ma’am, are you Luna Summerwood?”
“I am.”
“I’m Ranger Perkins with the Department of Natural Resources. We received a call from you that you’d found an exotic animal.” He walked down the driveway to talk with me.
“Ah.” Hell. I’d forgotten that I’d called them when the maned wolf showed up. “The maned wolf.”
“We’ve been contacted by the putative owner, and we’ve opened an investigation.” He turned to gesture at the other man talking with the deputy. That man turned and walked to the mailbox.
My heart stopped. I knew this man. He’d been in my dreams, chanting Latin. I hadn’t gotten a good look at his face in the dream, but I saw him clearly now: light brown hair, blue eyes, looking very much like a beefier version of Silva. His arms, thick as tree trunks, were stuffed in a black blazer. He stared at me, as if he were evaluating exactly who and what I was. A cold smile jerked at the corner of his mouth.
“Ms. Summerwood. I’m Charles Voss, a biologist with the Toronto Zoo.” His voice had a sharp French accent. I watched him pause as he approached the mailbox. He seemed to stare down the corn dolly ward I’d placed there.
“That’s a long way from here,” I said, forcing my voice to sound even.
He glanced down at me, but stayed on the road. I was hoping that Celeste’s ward would work, that it would keep him out. He smiled toothily at me. “The animal in question disappeared while we were transporting it, and we would very much like to have it back.” His voice was smooth, as if what he asked was very reasonable and that I should certainly buy his cover story.
I glanced up at the road, to the sheriff’s car. I didn’t want this to devolve into some kind of magical fight right now, but I knew that the deputy would intervene if things got dicey. I couldn’t catch the deputy’s eye; from this angle, I could only see his profile. I sure hoped that these guys set off his warning bells and he was calling this event in.
“I’m afraid I no longer have the maned wolf,” I said, mindful to stay behind the invisible barrier of the ward.
Voss’s gaze narrowed. “It’s dead, then?”
“It escaped,” I said. “I went out to the kennel room to feed it, but the cage door was open, and so was a window.” I shifted my gaze to the ranger. “The animal was too badly injured to have moved on its own. I suspect that someone took it. I reported this to the Sheriff’s Office; they should be able to verify with their report.”
Ranger Perkins pulled a notepad from his pocket and began scribbling down notes. “Do you have veterinary records for this animal, Dr. Summerwood?”
“I do. I would be more than happy to send them to your office.” I licked my lips, trying not to betray my nervousness. I had no weapons at hand, and I couldn’t defend myself without that ward. If it broke...
Voss’s face was turning red. “That was a very valuable animal, Ms. Summerwood. You should have...”
I cut him off. “That animal was nearly dead when it was brought to me by law enforcement, Mr. Voss. Shall I send you the bill for my services?”
