by Minda Webber
Finally Alex broke the silence. "Yes, I'm glad you didn't tell Nic about the sex thing. If we catch Nero then we'll be the heroes of the story. Still… poor Nic. You're barely talking to him. Are you ever going to forgive him for his deception?"
Sam turned to stare at him. "Is that any of your business?"
Alex grinned. "No, but why let that stop me?"
Sam couldn't help but smile. Alex was a cutup, and cute for a Strakhov. If she hadn't been hung up on Nic, she might have felt some physical attraction for him. Instead, Alex reminded her of her own brother, Bogart, with his sense of teasing misadventure and stupid practical jokes. She wondered how Bogart—or who Bogart—was doing. "You're a hopeless case, you know that?" she said wryly.
Alex nodded. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, speaking about my brother, remember that it's my fault he impersonated our cousin to get back at you. It was all a joke."
Sam gave him a quelling look. "Yes, Alex, I know. You're a riot, a laugh a minute."
"Now answer my question."
"Oh, didn't I?" Sam stared at him. "Perceptive of you to notice. Guess you have a head on your shoulders after all. Who would have thought, with those dirty stunts you pulled."
"Ow." Alex slapped a hand over his chest dramatically. "You wounded me."
Sam shook her head. "We're on duty here. Stop clowning around. I'd hate to see you stoned."
Alex snickered. "Nic feels the same way. Now I understand why Nic is so crazy for you. You're both too bossy."
Rolling her eyes, she laughed, but secretly she was jumping up and down. Did Nic really care so much? If he felt a fourth of what she felt for him, then maybe they had a chance.
Suddenly serious, Alex stared into Sam's eyes and willed her to believe. "It's true. I've never seen Nic like this with any other female. You're in his head and his heart."
In spite of herself, Sam's smile grew brighter.
Alex chortled. "See, you do care for Nic! I think you might just be as crazy about him as he is for you."
"Well, aren't you smart? Wipe that knowing smirk off your face, buster, and pay attention to our job. I'd hate to have to tell Nic that his little brother is a statue on top of a statue, target practice for pigeons."
"All right boss, you win. I'll behave."
And Alex was true to his words.
As the time passed, sometimes they talked, and sometimes they settled into a comfortable silence. The clock continued to tick. Two hours passed, and the fog thickened like a great gray blanket wrapping itself around the lower half of the city.
The call of a guard finally broke their thoughts, letting them know it was time to go. A reluctant Sam and a bored Alex slowly descended.
Boarding the ferry back to the city, both were lost in thought. She had failed tonight, and Sam didn't like that one little bit. Failure was not an option. The gorgon was out there, and she wasn't wrong about the Statue. For some reason, the Meduse had skipped his sexual hi-jinks tonight. But that didn't mean he would tomorrow or the night after that.
After the ferry landed, the crowd disappeared quickly into the gray fog, leaving Alex and Sam alone.
Life was a bitch at times like these, Sam thought ruefully. She felt like kicking somebody, hard. She had prepared herself for something to happen, and the gorgon hadn't shown. Ruefully, she shook her head as they headed for a street corner where they might hail a cab.
"I'll never live this down. And I hate like hell to admit it, but I guess Nic was right, at least about tonight. What rotten luck. And I just bet that Forest fires off some damn joke that's gonna make me want to kick her."
Alex slung his arm around her shoulder as they lurched forward into the white-gray darkness, their footsteps sounding a pitter-patter on the gritty, wet pavement.
"No, that book was most likely correct. I think your hunch is a good one. I like it. Just because the Meduse didn't show tonight doesn't mean he won't tomorrow."
Sam laughed half-heartedly, for he'd echoed her own thoughts. She chucked him on the chin. "Gee, thanks, kid."
Their banter was halted by a woman's scream, a' woman who had been driven beyond terror. The shrillness of her cry was unforgettable. Again the unknown woman screamed, and Alex was off like a shot back towards the harbor and quickly swallowed up by the fog.
Sam followed, trying to get her bearings while surrounded by the chalky gray mist, feeling lost and alone in this dreamscape where nothing seemed real. Ahead of her she heard the sound of a body falling, a woman's horrified gasp, and the sound of clothing tearing; this was followed closely by growling.
Quickening her pace, she almost ran over a woman lying unconscious on the ground, but who was still very much flesh and blood, which was a good sign as far as Sam could tell. Touching fingers to the unconscious woman's neck, Sam quickly found a pulse. The woman was fine; she'd just fainted, probably due to the horrific sight she'd seen.
And it was horrific, Sam realized, gulping noisily and taking in the battle before her. There were two combatants: the Meduse and a huge black wolf.
"A wolf?" Sam questioned, blinking her eyes rapidly to see if she was hallucinating. It wasn't everyday a girl saw a gorgon doing battle with a really big wolf. But she wasn't hallucinating, and the gorgon charged.
Sam gasped. The gorgon was both awesome and awful, a sight to make sore eyes. He had a beautiful face but a forked tongue. Claws extended from his fingers; long wicked claws. They weren't as long as Freddy Krueger's, who Sam felt could use a really good manicure, but long enough, and razor sharp.
In repulsed fascination Sam stared at Nero's head, which was misshapen from a full mane of snake hair. The snakes were hissing, coiling and uncoiling, and so his coif was a real fright.
"Talk about a bad hair day," Sam muttered to herself, and she withdrew the golden sword she'd hidden in her trench coat. That hair was just awful—appalling really, the poor monster. "You could use a real makeover, fang-bangs."
Hearing her words, the Meduse turned to face Sam fully, to judge the threat. Then he rapidly snapped his attention back to the snarling wolf, who was crouched low, ready to spring, white fangs glistening in the nearby lamplight.
Snarling, the black wolf charged, rushing low, his fangs sinking into the gorgon's thigh. Then he lept back keeping far enough away from the snake heads to prevent being bitten.
The gorgon howled in pain, and blood spurted from his wound. Reacting in rage and pain, he clawed the wolf in the lower right flank, scoring the skin with three deep gashes. Just at that moment, the unconscious woman regained consciousness. Wild-eyed and shrieking, she ran off into the night.
Now that the woman was gone, Sam didn't have to worry about protecting her anymore; she charged into the thick of the battle. Swinging her sword in a wide arc… she managed to miss the gorgon's neck by a good four inches.
Luckily, the sword did bite into the gorgon's back, and he howled with pain and rage. Retaliating swiftly, the Meduse caught Sam across her shoulder with a tremendous swipe, and knocked her on her butt.
She landed hard, jarring her spine, shooting radiating twinges of pain throughout her body. Scrambling for her sword she got painfully back to her feet, waiting for another chance to attack as the wolf barely missed being bitten by their enemy's dreadful locks.
Raising her sword to attack again, Sam muttered, "Next time Prince V. gets me a weapon, it damn well better be twenty pounds lighter."
The wolf bit hard into the gorgon's other side just as Sam charged. Unfortunately, her sword slipped just as she managed to raise it high enough to swing. This time, she clipped the gorgon on the arm.
Nero's reprisal was again swift. His blow caught her hard on the back and sent her crashing to the ground; this time she hit her forehead against the gritty pavement. Yep, the mean streets of New York were living up to their reputation tonight, she mused dimly.
Shaking her head, Sam rolled over, sword in hand and prepared to be caught by a snake in the ass. Stunned, she watched the gorgon spin
around and run off into the cold, thick fog, hissing as he went and holding his torn and bloody side.
My, What Big Teeth You Have
Her vision blurred, Sam slowly maneuvered herself into a half-sitting position; she had just gotten her butt kicked good. At the same time she became aware of the enormous black wolf standing over her. What rotten luck, she thought grimly. She had survived an attack of a gorgon and lived to tell the tale, only to be eaten by big, bad wolf.
Too dazed to do much more, she raised her hands to defend her neck and face. But instead of ripping out her throat, the wolf edged closer and licked the cut on her forehead, whimpering.
His tongue felt like scratchy sandpaper, but somehow managed to be comforting. After he licked her forehead, the wolf laid his head in her lap, and Sam ran her fingers through his thick fur.
At the petting, the wolf seemed to sigh, then stuck his head in her crotch. About the same time, a dazed Sam put two and two together—Alex's clothing shredded on the wet, glistening pavement, the wolfs black hair and massive size, and the deep soulful gray eyes—and got four.
She was nobody's fool. Quickly recognizing the werewolf for who he was, she bopped him on the head. "Alex, if you sniff my crotch for one more second I'll rip out all your fur with my bare hands!"
The wolf crawled backward, his head lowered in a submissive pose.
Standing slowly, her body aching, Sam griped, "Oh give me a break. Cut the innocent act, Alex. You're about as blameless as Ivan the Terrible. And as you need obedience lessons, I'll take it up with Nic."
Alex whined.
Ignoring him, Sam smacked her forehead, forgetting momentarily about the sore spot. Pointing a finger at the guilty wolf, she berated him.
"You're a Russian werewolf in New York—another secret Nic didn't tell me! You're masters of sleazy secrets. You and your lying, sneaking pack of brothers. Damn! Where are my silver bullets when I need them?"
Alex ducked his head under his forepaw, his tail ceasing to thump.
"Nuts! I could really bust your chops. You and that lying dog of a brother. Why didn't you guys tell me you were werewolves? Damn, but you shapeshifters are a closemouthed bunch, aren't you? First Ripley, and now you. I can't believe Nic didn't tell me he's not human!"
Sam was off on the rant, and Alex whimpered again, his pose staying totally submissive.
"Don't duck your head, you four-pawed Judas! I'm on to your game."
Sam began to pace, jabbing an accusatory finger at Alex as she walked.
"I should have seen this coming a mile away. Cousin to a vampire, and really, really knowledgeable about the supernatural. That wild, musky scent that's all Nic. The way he made love to me like a wild animal. But then, he's ruled by his nature, isn't he? Yeah, that's right. The man's a wolf! Boy, would Charles Darwin have a field day with you guys!"
Alex nudged her leg, looking up at her with big puppy dog eyes, imploring her to forgive the family deception.
"I've always been a sucker for dogs," Sam admitted. "All right, all right. I know you probably saved my life. Saved by a werewolf from a gorgon—who would have thought it?" She shook her head, nudging Alex away again. "But I helped save your skin too, buster, so don't forget it. We're lucky to get out of here with our skins intact!"
Glancing down at Alex, she ruefully shook her head. "Of course, you didn't get out of here with your skin intact, since you're all furred up. Still, we're alive and kicking—or howling, as the case may be," she muttered.
Sam started to pace, giving the werewolf a long hard glare. "Nic should have told me. I'm a Paranormalbuster. I can keep a secret. I wouldn't have ratted you guys out to anybody."
Alex whined, looking sweet, which got to Sam again. "I know, I know! A werewolf's gotta do what a werewolf's gotta do. Well, so does a woman. I'm going to kill Nic. Leader of the pack or not, I'll rip into him like nobody's business! He's a werewolf in creep's clothing."
With those words, Alex changed back. His fur dispersed, his bones popped and his jaws receded, and Sam was stunned by the transformation's beauty. Golden light formed a halo around him.
Alex rose to a standing position, wincing. Glancing down at the marks on his right buttock, he fingered them. They were only long red scratches now, with purple bruising, due to the healing characteristics of his metabolism.
"This is going to be sore for a couple of days," he said.
Her arms across her chest, her stance militant, Sam looked anything but sympathetic. "I don't know, I kind of think it's justice. You yourself have been one big pain in the butt."
"Nic's going to kill me. You seeing me naked and all."
Sam shrugged dismissively, although the naked Strakhov was a fine specimen of male. "Like I care? You haven't got anything I haven't seen before." Tugging off her trench coat, she handed it to Alex, her silence damning.
Alex assumed a hangdog expression. Looking guilty, he pulled the coat on, his arms four inches longer than the sleeves. It barely closed in front as he tied the belt.
"I suppose you're the real thing? Werewolves by birth, not by bite?" Sam asked.
"That's right. Actually, we're descended from a long line of werewolves. A royal line. Nic's a prince." Recalling Nic's face and hauteur, Sam could have kicked herself for not surmising so sooner. "How could I have forgotten? Russia used to be overrun with princes before the Revolution. So, why should I be surprised?" Glaring at Alex disgustedly, Sam gave up. This dog had fleas, even if he was the wrong dog.
"Come on, let's go. I've got a wolfman to see."
Alex hesitated. "What about the woman Nero attacked? What happened to her? I lost sight of her during the battle."
"She's okay. She ran off in the opposite direction."
"Just think," Alex remarked, his chest puffed out with pride. "I ran the gorgon off!"
"Get a grip. It wasn't just you; it was the odds. Two against one."
"Well, it certainly wasn't your swordplay," Alex riposted.
"I never claimed to be the Highlander."
"And I guess I can live without any pats on the head for saving that girl's life and yours," Alex groused.
."Be thankful I don't make Nic take you to obedience school. You deserve it, you know." She looked down and smoothed out her clothing.
"Touchy, touchy, aren't you? If you weren't that good at sword fighting, why didn't you practice before this?" Alex asked. He knew Sam was a professional and professionals usually didn't slip up like that.
"Who says I didn't?" Sam said.
Alex's eyes widened. "You practiced today?"
"Most of it. I just didn't get much better."
Eyeing her up and down, Alex exclaimed, "That's hard to believe. I thought you were good at everything you do."
"Not fencing." Sheepishly, she admitted, "I flunked it in college."
Alex snorted, amused.
"Twice."
He broke into laughter. "Wait until I tell my big brother!"
"Wait until I tell him that you were sniffing my crotch. He'll rip off your nose and lower parts best left unmentioned."
Alex actually shuddered. "You're just no fun, Sam. What ever does my hardheaded brother see in you?" Grabbing her arm, he hurried her off into the foggy night, their footsteps ringing on the pavement. Their voices became echoes.
"Bossy wench."
"Dog breath!"
The Laws of Attraction Between a Werewolf and a Woman
Sam sought Nic in his room at the Transylvania Hotel, leaving Alex to explain to Prince Varinski and the rest of the group what had transpired at the Statue of Liberty. Pounding on his door, she tapped her foot impatiently while waiting for Nic to answer, which he did in a pair of jeans and nothing else.
Shoving her way past, Sam searched the room. With relief she saw that Nic was totally alone.
"Where's that Irish potato biter?" Sam snapped, her back to Nic. She had plenty to say, but as she turned and saw his hard muscular chest, and the thin line of dark hair disappearing into his low-slu
ng jeans, her mouth had a mind of its own. She wasn't made of stone. Although, if Nero had his way…
"Forest is down on six, with Petroff and the others in my cousin's room. Why? Did you think she'd be up here with me?"
"Where else? She's all over you like a fungus."
Nic laughed. He moved closer, and his laughter died as he saw her beat-up face and the blood in her hair. She looked like death wanned over, and by someone who didn't know how to cook.
He tenderly touched the cut on her forehead, where a purple knot was forming. "You're hurt."
"A lot you care," Sam retorted. She wasn't sure why she was acting so hostile.
"But I do. If you only knew. You're like some kind of disease I didn't want to catch, but I can't shake the bug now that I have it," he said. He smoothed a strand of lose hair behind her ear.
Sam batted his hand away. "Oh, great! I make you sick, is that what you're saying?"
"That's not what I mean and you know it. Now, what happened? How'd you get into trouble? If you didn't go to the Statue of Liberty—"
Stabbing a finger down at her muddy and ripped jeans, Sam interrupted, "I did. And, Mr. Know-It-All Nic, guess where Nero was tonight?" He had made light of her hunch, but her hunch had been right on the mark. He should have backed it.
Nic started cussing in Russian, German, and maybe Chinese—Sam wasn't sure, not being a scholar of Asian languages.
"I can't believe it. The one place I felt sure you'd be reasonably safe, and you got attacked!"
Glaring at him, hands on hips, she said caustically, "Poor you, being wrong. All things considered, I would have preferred being at American Gothic with you and Ms. Pining-for-You Forest. It's lots more fun standing around than being tossed on my head by some snake-haired man."
