Guard Wolf (Shifter Agents Book 2)

by Lauren Esker

  In wolf form, he circled the park, staying to the shadows. He smelled it immediately, the rank garbage-and-illness smell. It had been all over the park last night. He crisscrossed the park, pursuing different loops of the walking trail. The creature, whatever it was, had multiple entry and exit points; it had come and gone, as if it, too, was looking for something. It was impossible for him to tell where it had first entered, and where it had finally left. The only way to know for sure was to follow the trails in wolf form, using himself as a bloodhound.

  And morning was coming. In the dead of night, maybe he could risk it, but not during the day. He'd have to file a proper report, and maybe get one of his co-workers to come out with him and play "dog handler" so he could trail it in the daytime.

  Frustrated, he dressed again in the mist's damp chill. Then he froze at a new thought.

  You dumbass, sniff the puppies' box!

  He hadn't even thought of it. He'd been using human investigative techniques, human channels—but he wasn't human, and neither were they, and if he didn't have his mind half clouded by the way the children's presence sent his wolf instincts into overdrive, he would have realized that he had advantages no human investigator possessed. He didn't normally think about it; he spent most of his time outside the apartment in human form, living like a human, forgetting his wolf side as much as possible.

  Where was the box? And the blanket? Forensics would have both. Probably they hadn't even gotten around to doing anything with them yet; the department's lab facilities were small and perpetually overloaded with work. And if they had finished with their analysis, they might not have felt it was worth keeping them in the equally overburdened storage area for a case as low profile as this one.

  No, he thought; that wasn't right. Forensics had the blanket, but the box was still in his car. He'd put in the trunk when he took the pups home two nights ago, and had simply forgotten about it.

  He walked as quickly as he could back to his car, parked in the small lot adjacent to the building's courtyard, and popped the trunk. The box was still there, resting against a toolbox and the winter coat he carried for emergencies.

  He needed to be a wolf for this, so Avery took the box with him into the car, crawling into the cramped backseat. It was just starting to get light, the street as deserted as a street could only be in the hour before dawn. He wormed out of his clothes, and wedged himself down on the floorboards, twisted into a cruelly painful pretzel position. To make himself even less conspicuous, he draped his wool coat over himself and the box. Then he shifted.

  Smells leaped out at him, a whole vibrant palette of them: carpet and chemicals, oil and gasoline, rain and pavement and wet wool and the mud his feet had left on the floor mats.

  Damp cardboard.

  Things never dried in Seattle. The box had been moldering quietly in the trunk, and anything useful like DNA would be long degraded.

  But smells clung to wet things.

  Moving slowly, in case someone walking by noticed the moving coat in the backseat, he tipped the box on its side with a paw and put his snout into it. Avery snuffled it thoroughly, whuffing out air from time to time to clean his sinuses.

  It just smelled like a box. He could smell the puppies—wolf-smell, baby-smell—and his own scent from handling it. The subtle smell of the blanket had long since been lost, but he thought he could smell something else, hard to identify. Something chemical. Cleaning chemicals, maybe? It was very faintly familiar, as if he'd smelled it before, recently even, but in a different context.

  And ... yes. That sour-sick taint, faint and obscured by everyone who'd handled the box since then. But there.

  Whatever this creature was, it had handled this box.

  And ... the smell wasn't only on the box.

  Taking a slight risk, he shifted and unlocked the car door to crack it open. Then he shifted back, sticking his black snout out of the car. Not for the first time, he was glad his wolfish coloring blended with the darkness.

  Yes. Whatever it was, that wolf/not-wolf creature, it had been here. It had been all around the car.

  His hackles bristled.

  Where had it come from? Where had it gone? There was no help for it. He needed to get Nicole and the leash, and have her take him for a "walk". He didn't dare risk running around unattended as a wolf, not with the city waking up. But he needed wolfish senses to track it.

  He closed the door, shifted, and dressed. He wanted to do it right now, before pedestrians and traffic could start obliterating the scent trail, but damn it, he also wanted to have a nice breakfast with Nicole, and right now that side of him was winning.

  —and also, shit. There were the kids to think of.

  Maybe it would be okay to leave them alone in the apartment for an hour or two? They were puppy-shaped, after all.

  But all his instincts rebelled against it, as well as the rational part of his mind. Leaving four toddlers unattended for hours was not the act of a responsible adult. Especially toddlers who could change shape. As puppies, they'd probably be all right for a little while, though it still didn't seem appropriate. As human children, with little fingers that could poke into electrical outlets and turn on the stove ... no.

  As he limped down to the store, he used his phone to pull up the SCB's directory and get Yesenia's number. Or ... he tried. The website was back up, but the secured area, with all the information he actually needed, wouldn't let him log in. Maybe the techs had had to reset all the user accounts in the process of fixing things.

  When Mayhew fucked something up, it stayed fucked up for a good long time.

  He sighed and called Casey. She was usually up early; Jack had gotten her into jogging and other forms of early-morning torture. The thought occurred to him as the phone rang that with Jack ill, she might be sleeping in. He was prepared to leave a voicemail when Casey answered, breathing hard. "Hey, Avery."

  "Either you're jogging or something is chasing you. I hope it's the first option."

  "Ha ha." The pounding of her feet slowed. "I could use a cool-down anyway. What's up?"

  "I wanted to see if you could do me a favor. Has Jack ever told you about the thing we do, with the—dog leash?"

  There was a startled silence from the other end of the line. Avery ran the words back in his head, and winced.

  "Avery," Casey said, "I'm starting to think there are things I'd rather not know about your relationship with my boyfriend."

  "Not like that. It's a ... masquerade thing." That, he now realized, he couldn't explain properly in public, where he might be overheard. "Look, ask Jack about it, if he's up. The thing is, I need a leash-holder this morning, and I wanted to find out if you'd be willing to do it for me."

  "I ... am going to give you a very nervous and conditional yes, based on what Jack tells me about what the duties of a leash-holder involve."

  Avery laughed. "You just get a nice walk on a crisp Seattle fall morning, that's all."

  "Well, that sounds all right."

  "Or, if you'd rather, you could spend an hour or so keeping an eye on the kids, but I thought you'd prefer the leash-holder end of things. The trouble is, I need a babysitter and a leash handler."

  "You've still got the kids?" she said, sounding surprised. "All four of them? Are they still ... furry?"

  "Yeah," he said, a bit defensively. "There were some delays in finding a foster home. They're going over to it tonight. And I am not getting attached."

  "I never said you were. Look, let me find out some details from Jack, and then I'll head up your way, okay?"

  "Thanks," he said, trying not to sound grudging about it.

  Today was the last day, he thought, poking through toiletries in the drugstore. The last day of imposing on friends and co-workers, talking his dates into joining him for babysitting, always having to figure out what to do with four babies before he could do his actual job. His feelings about it were a strange mingled blend of relief and misery.

  Maybe he could skip the lea
sh-holder part completely and go off-leash in pursuit of the trail. If he was fast, perhaps no one would notice. If someone did call Animal Control, he could just find a private place to shift—

  Yeah, and then you'll be naked in public, without even a phone to call for someone to bring you clothes. Unless you want to get yourself a cute little doggy backpack.

  Which ... actually wasn't a bad idea, but his dignity as a wolf made him cringe from the thought. He could stand wearing a collar. Actually, he thought the collar was rather smart-looking. A backpack, though ...

  It would be practical to have one around. Maybe he should look into getting himself a professional-looking one, like the kind rescue dogs wore. However, that wasn't going to help him this morning.

  There was a bakery a block from the drugstore. With the promised toothbrush tucked into his pocket, he bought donuts and croissants, as well as two cups of coffee, and headed back to the apartment.

  Nicole was showered and dressed when he came in, sitting on the floor playing with the puppies, while her hair dried in damp squiggles on her shoulders. She'd managed to get the skirt unrumpled and professional-looking, although Avery could still smell the lingering faint tang of sex—subtly enough, though, that he didn't think a human would notice.

  "Hey, stranger," Nicole said with a smile. "I was starting to think you'd decided to stand me up."

  "Well, you're in my apartment, so I had to come home eventually." He held out the paper bag. "Breakfast?"

  They sat on the floor and ate, offering bits of croissant to the puppies. Having just been fed, the puppies weren't that interested. The newspapers in the bathroom showed signs of recent use.

  "Are you supposed to put diapers on little werewolves, or paper-train them?" Nicole asked.

  "Your guess is as good as mine. They seem to recognize what they're supposed to do when I put them on the newspapers, so I guess somebody did that with them. I don't know if it's healthy or not."

  "I imagine there is no right and wrong. There are lots of schools of child-rearing, but trust me, I spend so much time watching what happens when things go wrong that I have a pretty good feel for what it looks like when things go right." She looked around at the puppies rolling and tussling on the floor. "They're happy and well fed. They aren't scared. They seem to be developing normally for little wolves of their age. I do hope they'll shift sooner or later, but for now I think they're doing fine."

  "Do you think ..." Avery hesitated. Looking away from her, he fondled the ears of the nearest puppy. "Do you think we should give them names? It doesn't seem right to just keep calling them 'the brown one' or whatever. They are kids, after all."

  "I don't know. I was hoping we would find their parents and learn their actual names, but I suppose we are going to have to call them something. Or the Hodgsons could do it—that's the family they'll be staying with tonight."

  Avery's stomach twisted with an unprofessional surge of an emotion he reluctantly identified as jealousy. "I think, if they're going into the system, they need to do it with names. Even if they're only temporary names."

  Nicole smiled gently. "I think you're right."

  She reached out and captured the nearest puppy. Avery helped her corral them, until all the puppies were cornered in a playful, squirming mass between the fences of their legs.

  "Should we each do two?" Nicole asked.

  "Sure. I guess so." Avery looked down at the puppy he happened to be holding, the small gray male one with white paws, and realized that his mind had gone completely blank. Only one name came into his head. "How about Jack?"

  "Jack? As in, your friend Jack, the roleplaying-game player?"

  "Why not?" Avery countered. If he'd had kids, he would certainly have named one of them after Jack.

  "You can't just use someone's name like that without asking, Avery. It's rude."

  "It's temporary," Avery pointed out, but now she was frowning reprovingly at him.

  Fine. He tried to think of another name. Any name. Desperate for inspiration, he looked around the apartment. Nothing came to mind.

  Come on, Avery. This isn't rocket science. What's a good name for a wolf kid?

  And then he had it, a name from a long time ago. One of his dead siblings, the only one that had lived long enough for Avery to remember him, had been named ...

  "Hunter," Avery said.

  It seemed like a lot of name for the runt of a werewolf litter to grow into, but the other Hunter, the brother he would have had if not for his murderously abusive parents, had been a small wolf too. Avery kissed the puppy between his tiny flopped-over ears, and set him down.

  "I like that," Nicole said, smiling. She dandled the brown female puppy. "This little girl ... I think she looks like a Sophie. Does she look like a Sophie to you?"

  "She absolutely looks like a Sophie." For the next one, at least, Avery already had a name. It was the girl with blond and reddish fur, the escape artist. "Ginger."

  That just left the brown and gray male puppy. Nicole studied him for awhile before she said, "I think you look like a Gael."

  "Ginger, Sophie, Gael, Hunter." Avery touched each puppy on its head, naming them so he could remember.

  "Those are good names. And I'm glad you suggested it." Nicole smiled at him, a smile so warm he felt as if it could kindle in his chest and protect him against all the world's cold. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean over and kiss her.

  Just as his lips met hers, still sugar-sweet from breakfast, there was a knock at the door.

  Avery broke away, almost falling over backward. "Right. That'll be Casey. I hope."

  "Casey?" Nicole asked.

  "Someone I work with. She was going to help me with a work-related thing. That werewolf from last night—" he started to explain, and then cracked the door open far enough to find that Casey had brought Jack with her.

  As a couple, they were a study in contrasts. The only thing that was vaguely similar about them was their coloring. They both had dark hair and brown eyes, though Casey's were shot with gold, while Jack's—behind wireframe glasses—contained hints of green. Otherwise, Casey was short, chunky, and glowering as usual. Jack was over a foot taller than her, a lanky six and a half feet of bear shifter in a heavy brown leather jacket. Today, his handsome face was scruffed with a couple days' worth of beard, and he looked pale and tired.

  "What? No!" Avery blocked them before they could come in, with Jack in his sights particularly. "Why aren't you at home in bed? Didn't you just have the flu two days ago? I'm pretty sure it doesn't go away that fast."

  "Shifter immune system." Jack still sounded scratchy. "It's nasty for a couple of days, but it burns through a lot faster than with humans. I'm cleared for duty and Dr. Lafitte doesn't think I'm contagious anymore."

  "If you don't care about infecting us," Avery said darkly, "at least think about the children."

  Jack's eyebrows went up. "You just said 'think of the children' unironically. I'm sorry, I'm going to have to find a new best friend."

  Avery restrained himself from punching him (playfully. Sort of) on the basis of not wanting to contaminate himself. "I see you're going along with this madness," he said to Casey.

  "What am I going to do, sit on him? He's bigger than me. And he turns into a bear."

  "Seriously, I didn't think about it." Jack held up his hands placatingly. "I really don't think I'm contagious, but I forgot about kids and germs. Look, I'll just stay over here, okay?"

  "You better."

  "Hello," Nicole said around Avery, giving them a little wave. "Since apparently Avery isn't going to introduce me, I'm Nicole."

  "She's the social worker handling the kids' case," Avery explained. "Nicole, this is Casey and Jack."

  "Oh, you're the Dungeons and Dragons player!" Nicole said cheerfully. "Avery told me about you."

  Avery could feel himself flushing. God damn it.

  "Well, I'd like to think that's not all I am," Jack said, with a curious sideways lo
ok at Avery. "Do you play?"

  "A little bit, in uni. Avery invited me to sit in on your next game. If it's all right with you, of course."

  "Sure, you'd be welcome to." He muffled a cough behind his hand, causing everyone in his vicinity to recoil in shared germophobia. "Oh, hon, show Avery his present."

  "Right!" Casey held out a bag with a pet-store logo on it. "We stopped along the way. Jack had an idea. Are these the right size, do you think?"

  The bag contained four puppy-sized collars and leashes, in different bright colors. "Huh," Avery said, holding up a red one. He couldn't help thinking it would look very fetching against Ginger's strawberry-blond fur.

  "No reason the kids can't go for a walk too, right?" Jack said.

  "Walk?" Nicole asked. "Who's going for a walk?"

  "Uh, I was getting to that." Avery glanced around the hall. "Come in for a minute. Let's talk. Jack, stay near the door, and don't touch anything or breathe on anybody."

  With all of them inside, he explained briefly about the not-quite-right werewolf scent he'd noticed last night and this morning. "Nicole, I was hoping you'd be able to stay with the kids for a little while, so I could check it out."

  Casey looked up from fastening one of the tiny collars around Hunter's small neck. "Hello, leashes! The whole idea is to take the kids too."

  "We're werewolf hunting," Avery protested. "I don't think we should be taking kids along."

  "It's a beautiful day and they'll have a bunch of adults around to protect them," Jack pointed out. "We're not going anywhere dangerous. At least, I'm not planning on going anywhere dangerous."

  "You turn into a bear," Casey said. "Nowhere is dangerous for you."

  Nicole bit her lip. "I really should get to work ..."

  "Oh, come on," Casey said, offering her a tentative smile. "How often do you get a chance to go on a werewolf hunt?"

  "It'd be easier anyway if we had more people to hold leashes," Jack said. "I mean, we've got four kids, plus Avery. That's a lot of leashes. Don't want anyone going astray."