Bite Me (London Undead)

by PJ Schnyder

  Resigned, she had no idea what to do with the awkward silence. “I’m Maisie.”

  “Seth.”

  Well, at least they knew each other on a first name basis, then.

  As they approached the outer edge of the park, he began to change without breaking stride. The arms around her reduced to normal and human. She’d never been close to a werewolf when it shifted, much less cradled in one’s arms.

  “Isn’t that supposed to hurt?”

  “It does.” His voice had lightened from the rough, guttural sound to a middle tenor. “But no reason to let it slow a body down.”

  “Aren’t you cold?” She tried to sound casual about his bare upper body, but it was hard for a girl not to notice, pressed up against his chest as she was.

  “Not so much when I’ve got fur. And right now, you’re blocking most of the cold air.” He paused. “I’ve a coat stashed at the edge of the park.”

  In human form, he was leaner and less bulky. The only “fur” he had sprinkled the front of his chest. She still wanted to run her hands over it. “A coat. No shirt?”

  “Shirts don’t last long when I’m out on patrol. They end up in shreds.”

  “You’re wearing trousers just fine, though.” And she needed to quit blurting out the first thing to come to mind.

  The corner of his mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile. “I’m lean enough through the bottom that my change from human to phase-form doesn’t rip up denims.”

  Maisie supposed it made sense that he’d managed to keep his pants through the change. Wolves and other canines like huskies or German Shepherd Dogs tended to be very trim through the hips. Seth’s build held consistent from werewolf to human, simply taller and more muscular through the upper body in the former shape. Still, she wondered whether others had the same luck or if perhaps they lost their pants.

  Best not to think about him losing his pants.

  “Phase-form.” She tasted the word. “That’s what you call it then? When you’re half wolf and standing up like a man? All tall and fiercelike?”

  “It’s one of the forms we can take, yes.” His gaze roved over the area around them and she found herself searching the shadows too. “Some of us control it better than others.”

  She’d wondered about that. Werewolves appeared in top news stories on the telly and people whispered bits and pieces of remembered folk tales.

  “Are the stories true, then? About you and the moon driving you mad?”

  He missed a step and bobbled her in his arms. She thought she might have upset him, but then she realized he was chuckling. “The moon calls to the younger, less experienced pups, forces them into the change. But even they don’t go mad. They learn to be well fed and find a good way to burn off their aggression. As they get older, more experienced, their control gets better. Go on then, what other stories have you heard?”

  “Well, you don’t eat the zombies, do you?” Her stomach churned at the thought. “Some people wonder if you’re carrion eaters since there’s no bodies to clean up.”

  “No.” He sounded every bit as disgusted as she felt at the idea. “We don’t eat rotting flesh.”

  “But you do eat things...my kind of folk don’t eat.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked, but she’d wondered. And well, he wasn’t likely to eat her after saving her, was he?

  The corner of his mouth twitched. Maybe that was as close to a smile as he got. “The things my kind eat aren’t so different from what you’d prefer. Chicken, pork, steak when it’s available, and occasionally some game meat. We just like it...fresh.”

  “Ah, well, who doesn’t like a good rabbit stew once in a while.” Not so different, then, but she’d bet her idea of fresh and his were two different things.

  Awkward silence ruled over the next few minutes as he walked the final distance out of Kensington Gardens and crossed over to the city streets.

  Maisie fidgeted. “You can let me down now. There’s not as much likelihood I’ll run into stray corpses in this area. It’s well patrolled.”

  “By my pack.”

  “And I thank you all for that, really. Ever consider setting up an emergency calling system? Like the Americans have when they call for Batman?” She’d meant it as a joke but his brows drew together in a dark expression. “Kidding. You can tell when someone is kidding, can’t you?”

  “Don’t know you. Your heart rate is still up but I don’t smell fear.”

  “Well, I’m not lying.” Actually she was more than appreciative of his rangy, well-toned torso now that he’d set her down and she could get a good look at the whole package. Lord help her. She’d been alone for too long.

  He walked away.

  “Oy.” She waited for him to pause, not sure he would. “I am sorry about shooting you. If you come back to my clinic, I can clean that out so it heals proper.”

  Werewolves healed fast, she’d heard, and the evidence of it was right before her eyes. Bleeding had stopped and his flesh was closing over the wound. Still, it’d heal ugly if it wasn’t thoroughly cleaned out. She hadn’t been using hollow points, so he might even have a few fragments in his flesh. The bullet wound had to be more painful than he was letting on.

  He stood motionless for a long moment, then bent and retrieved something from the shadows beneath a tree. She came close to retracting her offer and leaving, but then he returned, pulling on a coat as he did. “It’ll set us even. Wait another moment.”

  Pulling a mobile from his back pocket, he tapped in a quick text message, his thumbs nimble on the tiny phone’s keyboard. Hard for her to fathom after she’d seen those same hands rip dead bodies to pieces.

  Finished, he looked up from the mobile, the light from the screen casting odd shadows across his face. Eerie. “The next patrol will check on that family. The wolves will pick up their trail here and follow them to be sure they all made it to a safe shelter.”

  Maisie cocked her head. Did he realize he looked like a figure from a bad horror movie? A handsome one, at least, but still. Best not to tell him, probably. She smiled up at him instead. “Ready?”

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Three

  Seth stopped short as they turned onto the tiny side street. She’d said it was right there, but all he saw was an animal clinic.

  Temper boiled up in his chest. He gritted his teeth and balled up his fists, every muscle in his throat tensing in the effort to hold back the growl threatening to roll loose.

  “All right, then?” Maisie halted, turned toward him slowly. She studied him with clear grey eyes, her shoulders relaxed, passive. No scent of fear, even as he glared at her. Even his wolves were afraid when his anger washed over them, but not her. Focusing on the oddity helped him let the anger go.

  “Really? Are you putting me on?”

  She glanced to the simple, worn sign over the clinic. Her delicate brows drew together and she pressed her lips in a thin line. “Look, it’s better than you trying to go home and wash it out under the kitchen faucet. I have all the tools I need here and the same cleaning supplies and disinfectants they’d use at a human clinic. Plus you won’t have to go through the usual hoops they make humans go through for health care and other rubbish. Anyway, don’t they try to have a police escort around before they treat you lot? You’d have to wait even longer.”

  He couldn’t fault her logic there. He’d had more than enough of the ignorant comments blinkered people made. Even gone public, most wolves kept the fact to themselves. Like religion, the state of being a werewolf was for close, trusted friends only. A man’d have to be daft or barmy to broadcast it to the general public.

  Probably get himself shot for the trouble of all that honesty, as well.

  “Oh, come on then, I can’t stay on my feet all night.” She hooked her pinky in his and tugged him along as easily as any stubborn child.

  And he let her.

  How long had it been since anyone, human or Were, had trusted him with so delicate a touch as hers? Most wouldn�
�t give him their hand for fear he’d pulverize the fine bones. Or maybe they thought he’d rip their arm off. But here she was, limping along on her crutch and dragging him behind her.

  A pang of guilt hit him in the gut. He was a right bastard for making her stand there so long.

  “You’ve been on your leg too much.” He didn’t have to pose it as a question. Her complexion had gone pale under already porcelain-white skin. Her gait had started out fairly strong considering she’d gone through an obvious retreat before he’d arrived on the battle scene. Now, her twisted foot and limp were more pronounced, as if she could fall with any step.

  “You’ve carried me quite enough for one evening. I barely know you. What kind of lady do you think I am?” The humor in her voice came through clear, despite her fatigue.

  He grinned. Petite, with soft brown hair streaked in caramel, she reminded him of a bit of custard tart.

  “Well, then? I asked you a question.”

  With a hint of spice.

  His grin widened as he decided he’d answer her with honesty and not politeness. “I was comparing you to food in my head.”

  A pause.

  The woman stopped in her tracks. But she didn’t turn back to look at him this time. No scent of fear rose from her, even now. Instead she simply started walking again.

  After a moment, her stomach growled.

  “No talk of food until after we get you cleaned and patched up.”

  When he chuckled, he wasn’t surprised, even though he hadn’t laughed for anyone in years. He also made a mental note to allow her to complete her task so she wouldn’t get her knickers in a twist. Then he’d get a solid meal into her. But then, it could be fun to get her knickers twisted.

  A memory of the earlier fight came back to him. Her standing at the base of the statue, small hands steady as she fired her gun. Fierce little minx too. He liked that.

  * * *

  “Oy. Brian!” Maisie called out as soon as they entered the clinic. “You still here?”

  No answer. Ah well, no matter. She led her large companion across the waiting area and past the reception desk, heading down the hallway to the examination room.

  “Someone else is supposed to be here?” Seth followed her readily enough as she continued to pull him in the direction she wanted.

  Perhaps the lean werewolf was humoring her more than she’d realized...

  “What? Your superhuman senses haven’t already told you about every person who’s been here today and what we all ate for lunch?” She clucked to herself. “I’m sorry. I get a bit snippy when I’ve missed dinner.”

  He chuckled, a pleasant sound, loosening tension in her chest if not her twisting belly. “Not to worry.” He paused. “There is someone in the building, listening to classical music with headphones. Maybe opera. The music is set very loud.”

  Brian did enjoy La Boheme after a particularly trying day and he did use headphones to encase himself in sound after hours. “How did you know he’s wearing headphones?”

  “The music would be louder and clearer if he played it from a sound system open to the room.”

  Ah. Well, the man did have remarkable hearing. “I’m amazed you didn’t suffer when I fired my guns near you, then. My ears are still ringing.”

  “The shift healed my ear drums. Friendly fire happens fairly often around us.” Sometimes not so friendly. Seth shrugged when she turned to stare at him, alarmed. “Most times, we wear ear plugs if we know we’ll be working alongside anyone bearing firearms. But tonight was a surprise.”

  “For both of us.” Maisie dropped her gaze to the floor. As daft as that family was, she wished them safe—if they had a safe place to go to, that was. Especially with the chance Seth had given them.

  Good of him, and his pack, to make certain as well.

  She switched on the lights in the examination room and patted the metal bench against one wall. Seth sat without comment.

  “Your friend is coming.” His comment was delivered in a flat tone.

  Must’ve heard Brian walking down the hallway. Saved her the trouble of going down the hall to pull her friend’s headphones off his noggin.

  “Maisie, what are you doing back? I tried to ring your mobile after you left.” Brian called down the hallway as he approached. “Did you bring in another stray? I keep telling you we can’t care for them for free...”

  Brian stopped short as he caught sight of Seth.

  Maisie tipped her head. “Not a stray. This one’s got a home to go back to once I patch him up. And I owe him.”

  At least she assumed he had a home to go to. He’d mentioned pack mates and all.

  The werewolf did appear a bit worn around the edges, but all things considered, still quite presentable if one didn’t require a shirt. His jeans had come through the fight in good condition, with only a few rips and generous splashes of black goo. His upper torso was remarkably free of zombie blood or other fluids. Perhaps it had gone away with the magic of the shape-shift.

  Then she realized her gaze had been fastened on Seth’s chest for far longer than necessary. She forced her attention back to Brian. “I could explain but I’d imagine whatever is going through your head right now is likely to be more interesting.” She didn’t wait for Brian to tell her though. “I won’t be using too many supplies. But it’s sort of my fault he’s been wounded and I’d like to do what I can to patch him up. Brian, meet Seth. Seth, Brian.”

  “How do you do?” Brian seemed more wary than genuinely concerned.

  Seth only nodded.

  Great. Not only were they both doing the manly thing, but one of them could honestly win in a literal pissing contest if he chose. The thought brought an image to her head and a giggle burst from her lips.

  “What’s so funny?” Brian’s wariness held a touch of exasperation.

  He’d known her since childhood. Likely he could guess where her line of thought had taken her, or at the very least, imagine what nonsense she could come up with so late at night.

  Aside from volume and distance, did a werewolf lift his leg to take a piss? Or just to mark territory? She really ought to learn more about werewolves.

  A fresh fit of giggles welled up along with a wave of light-headed euphoria. Whoop. How long ago had she had a snack?

  “Nothing’s funny, really.” She wasn’t about to explain with Seth sitting right there. Besides, his powers, whatever they might be, were healing the wound she needed to clean out.

  She busied herself with gathering her supplies. Placing them up on a small tray, she put them down next to Seth and put on her best bedside smile.

  Up close, he smelled of night air and a faint musk—a bit like good pipe smoke but not quite as strong. Pleasant, really, and she wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before when he’d been carrying her.

  “This is going to sting a bit.” How good was his control? He wasn’t one of her animals, ones who couldn’t know what she intended no matter how soothing she tried to be. They’d have snapped or tried to get away. She kept an eye on him as she started to clean the area around the bullet hole at both the entry and exit, paying extra attention to the way blood still seeped a bit from each. He grunted as she pressed the flesh around the exit point, trying to figure out if any fragments remained embedded. Shaking her head, she picked up a few more implements and a small curved bin and began flushing out the hole she’d put in the poor man.

  Brian wasn’t the heartless sort to simply stand there and watch. “Let me help, then. What happened?”

  A low, intimidating growl emanated from Seth, and Brian stopped short halfway across the room. The promise of violence suddenly filled the air. All the color drained out of her friend’s face and his eyes widened.

  Maisie froze.

  Under her hands, Seth hadn’t moved but every muscle tensed and energy tingled along her fingertips.

  Brian lifted his hands slowly in a show of no harm. “I was only coming to help her.”

  “You can stay right
there.” Seth lifted his chin to indicate the doorway. “Keep an eye on her and assure yourself she is safe but don’t come any closer.”

  Brian wasn’t a stupid man. He backed away as told. Full points, really, for not leaving altogether, but then he had quite a lot of courage too.

  Still, the silence had become awkward and tense.

  “I’d gone out for a bit of a walk to cool my head.” Maisie decided the best thing to do would be to answer Brian’s earlier question as she continued to flush out Seth’s wound. Conversation would keep all of them from thinking too hard on what she was up to.

  “A bit of a walk, Maisie? At night?” Frightened or no, Brian wasn’t beyond making his exasperation clear to her.

  “The landlord had his head up his ass and you can’t deny it.”

  “I’m not, believe me. But at night? If I’d realized you’d be gone past sunset, I’d have made you promise to stay inside the clinic. You of all people should know better.” Brian would bring up the biggest mistake of her life.

  One that cost her a family.

  Everything she’d held close, lost in a single night, and she carried the weight of the memory on a crutch.

  As she set down her tools and stepped away to dump out the used saline solution, Seth’s stare burned into her. She wondered if he knew somehow...

  But he couldn’t.

  Best to press on, then.

  “In any case, my walk ended up a bit further than I’d planned.” She ignored Seth’s snort. “A family went running across the green at Kensington Gardens with a pack of zombies on their heels. Never seen anything like it.”

  “Really, Maisie.”

  “No truly.” She set her jaw and returned to Seth, prodding at his flesh again for fragments. “I mean, we’ve all heard of one or two zombies stumbling on a lone person in the alleys or a few wandering about in the parks. But this was a true group of the blighters, Brian, looking to feed.”

  “Zombies are always hungry.” As if the little knowledge any average person might know about the undead was enough to explain it away. “Hunger is one of the few basic urges they still retain.”