You've Got Tail

by Renee George

  “Yeah, I remember,” Delbert added. “Doc Smith had just been with her, along with Neville and the sheriff. Not sure what went on there. You’ll have to ask them. That was probably the last time I saw her.”

  “I saw her a couple of days after, going out of town in her little yellow Bug.”

  I’d forgotten Chavvah had a Volkswagen. I hadn’t even wondered where it had gone. Some detective I was turning out to be, and jeezus, why hadn’t I talked to the Johnson twins sooner? I hugged Delbert, then after, I gave Elbert the same. I’d never seen men turn so red. Even their ears were the color of beets. I smiled.

  When I put my hand on Delbert to apologize, I had another flash of vision. Judah coming out of the restaurant at night. He looked angry, his fists clenching and unclenching, the sound of jangling keys clinking with each tight movement. Sheila Murphy came out next; she was tucking her shirt in. Eww. She tried to kiss Judah and he pushed her back. He jumped in his truck and took off, leaving her out in front of the store. The vision stopped there.

  I gazed up at Delbert. “Did you see a fight between Sheila and Judah?”

  His brows raised then he shook his head. “More times than I can count. Nothing new there.”

  I didn’t doubt fighting had been a regular thing for anyone and Sheila. She was a whole bag of nuts and then some. But did I really believe she could be responsible for Judah’s death? Maybe? She definitely had the temper and temperament for it, but the grief I’d seen earlier had been real, not manufactured. Besides, she might stab him with a butcher knife, maybe, but the whole hunting thing was calculated.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I finally said. I was really grossed out by the fact that she’d had a relationship with Judah. She’d been sleeping with him, I could tell that much from the vision. And now she was sleeping with his little brother. Yuck and yuck. “She really is a crazy bitch.”

  Elbert laughed. Delbert smiled, but it was tight, fake.

  “Oh, nearly forgot.” He went inside his store and came back out seconds later with a manila envelope. “Neville Lutjen stopped at your shop earlier when you weren’t there. He had these.” He handed me the envelope. “I told him I’d give it to you.”

  “Thanks,” I said. Maybe it was the licensing paperwork. I really hadn’t given much thought to the restaurant. If I couldn’t find Chav, it wouldn’t matter anyhow. “See you guys around.”

  Back in the apartment, I set the envelope on the small kitchen table. Soon, I grew bored, bored, bored. Chavvah hadn’t had cable installed in the building. I would have killed for my Supernatural DVDs, but I was too lazy to find the box they were in. (Watching Jensen Ackles was my comfort food.) So, I retrieved the diner check with the secret codes and tried to decipher it, still not completely convinced I’d be able to make heads or tails of the clue. If nothing else, it was a great way to keep from thinking about Babel and how exactly he and Sheila might be comforting each other.

  Some of the numbers seemed familiar, but I couldn’t figure out from where. I tried treating the numbers and letters like an anagram, but there were too many zeros for a word puzzle to work. It couldn’t be a binary code, too many other numbers besides zero and one. Maybe the letters were the key: JT, RC, GH. JoT, ReC, Go Home? Nah. In desperation, I tried holding on to the slip of paper, hoping for some kind of revealing vision—after all, I’d been getting them regularly since I hit town.

  Nothing.

  I sighed.

  Hell, Judah could have been playing a mad game of Sudoku for all I knew, and the scribbles of letters and numbers could mean absolutely nothing. It was seven in the evening when I finally gave up. I tucked the diner check into my pocket and decided to go back downstairs to get the metal box. Maybe I’d missed something in it earlier.

  I didn’t think I would, but I missed California. Here it was, a Friday night, and I had no real friends to call, no date to speak of, and I’d never felt so intensely alone. I heard a bark at the bottom of the stairs. Okay, so, intensely alone except for one ghost coyote.

  I stepped out onto the hardwood floors. “Hey, Judah. Got something new for me?”

  A shadow of movement to the right caught my eye. I barely had enough time to look over when a large, dark figure slammed me against the wall. I didn’t see that coming. Silly, silly, me.

  The thing towered over me, his body a warm press of fur hard against me. Its hot breath blew against my face. My knees began to shake uncontrollably even as I willed them to stop.

  Sharp fingernails dug into my arms and shoulders. I couldn’t tell what he looked like, or even if it was a he. I’d been assuming, but it was too dark. It pressed its malformed mouth to my hair and spoke. “You need a lesson in minding your own business.”

  Horror, sheer and discernable, ripped through me. I had a major visceral reaction to the guttural voice. Pure fear. I tried to yank away from the shifter, but it was too strong. The lesson came as a swift backhanded slap across my face. My jaw snapped as I crumpled to the floor. I heard the snick-snack of fingernails clicking while the hairy beast seemed to ponder what to do with me next.

  Unable to speak, to ask why or even plead for my life, I pulled a Rover as I went limp and played dead. A thunderous kick landed on my ribs. The air whooshed from my lungs as pain burst in all directions, making me think death might be a better option. He didn’t touch me again. Kicking me had been his parting soliloquy.

  I lay still for a good half hour, the numbness had soon worn off and the pain in my face was nearly debilitating. Somehow, I managed to drag myself up on an elbow then finally I was sitting up against the wall. I tried to speak, to call for help, but my lower jaw refused to work and my tongue was swelling inside my mouth.

  As it were, I had a couple of choices: lie here until someone found me, drag myself upstairs and use my cell phone to call for help, or try to get to the police station three blocks up the road. Lying there and waiting was my favorite option, because the other two involved painful movements.

  Where was Babel? It was unreasonable to expect him to ride in wearing a white hat and rescue me, but if I ever needed the rescue, now was the time. Babel would take charge. He’d know what to do. I’d never been needy, but as the pain worsened in my face and ribs, I knew I needed help. I wanted the help to come from Babel, but at this point any ol’ hero would do.

  I considered going upstairs for the phone, but I couldn’t form words, and the blood in my mouth meant I’d probably bit through my tongue (the swelling didn’t help either). So, I had to drag myself out onto the dimly lit street and travel the short distance to the police station.

  I shuddered at the prospect.

  Thrice now, I’d been attacked. Once by a shifter in full animal form, then Babel’s psychotic girlfriend (who was probably my first attacker as well), and now by a shifter in its half-n-half state of transformation. What if it waited outside for me?

  I had no idea whether it had been a male or female. Could it have been Sheila? Maybe it had been Tyler Thompson. He’d been downright hostile. Or Brady Corman? Or someone I hadn’t even figured into the equation.

  I recalled Delbert and Elbert. The town had had a meeting. They knew I was a psychic, and while I was certain there would be a bunch of people who wouldn’t believe, I was beginning to think there might be a few who wouldn’t want to take a chance on me discovering something they wanted to keep hidden.

  Through the pain, anger rose to the surface.

  The front doorbell jangled. I froze. Oh, God. He’s come back.

  Chapter 13

  I stilled my heavy breathing, but it was hard to be quiet with a clogged nose and a swollen tongue. For the umpteenth time, I felt certain I was going to die. Feeling around the floor, I couldn’t find anything to use as a weapon. If I was going to get mauled again, I wanted to do some damage as well.

  “Sunny?” I heard a young man’s voice. Familiar. Jo Jo.

  I whimpered my relief. I tried to say his name, but it came out as a muff
led mess.

  “Son of a…Sunny. Just hold still.” Jo Jo kneeled next to me.

  I winced when he touched my face. He tried to keep the horror out of his voice, but couldn’t keep it off his face. I hurt too bad to care.

  “I’m going to get the sheriff,” he said with sudden determination. “Try not to move.”

  Grateful, I nodded. The pain made me sorry for the gesture. I don’t know if I’d passed out, but it seemed like a very short time had passed between Jo Jo finding me and the sheriff and his men coming in. Someone had turned on the lights.

  Sheriff Taylor cradled me in his arms and carried me upstairs to my bed after a few photos were taken of me and the scene. The sheriff placed me gently on the comforter. His wife, Jean, brought in an ice pack. When had Jean gotten there? Misery played across both their faces and I wondered how bad I really looked?

  Jean smoothed my hair as she held the cool bundle to my cheek. Sheriff Taylor wore jeans and a casual shirt. It was the first time I’d seen him out of uniform. He’d been off duty.

  “We’re gonna get who did this, Sunny. Don’t you worry,” he said softly.

  Jean tried to smile, but it came off as a grimace. “Doc Smith is on his way. He’ll be here soon. You just hang in there.”

  I hoped soon meant immediately. I could use some of Billy Bob’s good drugs. Even with the blood, my mouth felt parched. I took hold of the ice bag and pointed to the cubes. Jean, with expediency, produced a small chip. I slid it past my lips, unable to get my jaw open more than a crack.

  Goddamn, it hurt!

  Where the hell was Billy Bob? Didn’t he have super powers or something too? I mean, hell, a lycanthrope should be able to run here in a couple of minutes.

  One of the men in the living room shouted, “Doc’s here.”

  It was about friggin’ time. Now that the shock had worn off, my whole face throbbed.

  Jean patted my arm. “It’s going to be all right, dear. It’s over now.”

  Jean Taylor thought it was over? I’d been threatened and attacked. By who and why? Until those questions were answered, it felt far from over in my mind.

  Sheriff Taylor stayed until Billy Bob arrived to care for me. He told me he’d post a man downstairs for my protection. While I hadn’t seen Tyler Thompson, I hoped to hell he wouldn’t be the guy the sheriff chose. Especially since, if I had a suspect list, he’d top it.

  Billy Bob walked into the room with a flourish normally reserved for the regal. My eyes widened as he plopped an old fashioned black doctor’s bag on the bed near my calves. “I’m going to look you over, okay?”

  I managed to grunt an affirmative. He started at my scalp—no lacerations, he confirmed—then my jaw. He made a humming noise as he pulled a syringe from his bag, along with a bottle of clear liquid. He drew the plunger back until the syringe was full.

  “This is some Lidocaine. It’s going to pinch a little, but it’ll make you feel better.”

  His hands warm and dry, he gently pushed the area in front of my left ear, and injected me with the burning liquid. I squeezed my eyes tightly to keep from squirming or trying to clench my teeth. He repeated the procedure on the right side.

  The pain abated. I let out a grateful sigh that stopped when Billy Bob pressed his thumbs along both those spaces and exerted pressure. Inside, I screamed as I felt my jaw snap back into place.

  “Awww,” I managed past my thick tongue. My jaw still hurt like a bitch, but at least I could move it again.

  “Don’t open your mouth wide for a couple of days, and make sure you put a hand under your chin if you yawn or laugh. Your mandible was dislocated, and you’ll have some swelling from possible muscle and tendon tearing that will need to heal.”

  Man, this guy was in full-on doctor mode. It was really hard to think of him as the same painted man who’d kept me in a sweat tent for a couple of days. He put on gloves and pulled out a tongue depressor from his kit.

  “I’m going to look in your mouth now. It’s not going to be comfortable, but the Lidocaine set at your mandibular joints should help some.”

  With one hand he held a small light, the other the depressor, which he used to move my tongue around. “You’re a lucky woman.”

  So lucky. I wanted to smack him. Lucky would have required me to not get the crap beat out of me for the second time in a span of a week.

  “Only a lateral tear on the left side of your tongue from where you bit it. And the tongue is one of the quickest-healing appendages on the body.”

  I wanted to tear his appendage and see how lucky he felt.

  He moved closer to my face, and I thought he was going to numb up my tongue like he had my jaw, but instead, he kissed me.

  Holy crap! His tongue swirled around mine. In my shock and awe, I nearly failed to notice that my mouth was feeling better and better with each swipe. When he finally quit laying the lip-lock on me, my toes were curled and my tongue felt less swollen and painful.

  “Why did you do that?” My surprise must have amused him, because he grinned.

  Now that the pain was better, I noticed him. Really noticed him. He looked positively amazing. He wore tight black jeans and a button-down navy-blue shirt that set off his incredible gray eyes. He had his dreadlocks pulled back off his face, and the sight of him nearly took my breath away. I bet he wouldn’t be as much of a challenge as Babel. Billy Bob was actually a grown-up. Although, just thinking about Babel made my heart sink. I wasn’t ready to move on to someone else. Not yet.

  “Lycanthrope saliva has healing properties,” he replied, buckling his black bag.

  “Uh-huh.” I was still confused. But I definitely understood what Ruth meant about a “great bedside manner.” Woo-wee.

  He shrugged. “It was a hell of a lot more fun than spitting in your mouth.”

  “Ewww.” And I completely agreed. Then another thought occurred, my shoulder had healed up pretty damn quick as well. “That poultice you made for my shoulder…”

  “Yep,” he confirmed.

  Great, who needed a medical license when you could salivate super-healing ju-ju? I wanted to be repulsed, but I settled for appreciative. “Thank you. Again.”

  “My pleasure.” He brushed my hair back with a finger then traced down the side of my face and neck. His gaze softened. To me, he felt safe, not like Babel.

  Babel.

  The thought of Babel made me shrug off Billy Bob’s touch. My head said Billy Bob was definitely the better choice as far as guys went, but my heart was all in on Babel, even if I couldn’t have him.

  Shaking his head, Billy Bob picked up the ice pack off the nightstand and put it back on my face. “Ice, rest, and ibuprofen. And try to keep your mouth closed. I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.”

  “Thanks again, Doc.” I pursed my lips with consternation as he left my bedroom and apartment.

  I am such an idiot. Billy Bob was good looking, didn’t seem to have a lot of baggage, and he was an actual grown-up without a psychotic girlfriend. And while he hadn’t asked me out or come on strong, I’d seen the look. The one a guy gives when he’s interested. Billy Bob was definitely interested.

  I rationalized my reluctance as part of my “no men” mantra, but my heart knew better. I ached for Babel, and damn it, I wanted it to stop. Conflicted, yet resolute, I took one of the pain pills Billy Bob had left on the nightstand with a glass of water and closed my eyes to the day.

  When I woke up, a large, warm body pressed against my back. A hairy arm crossed my chest while soft snoring played in my ear. Hazy still, I couldn’t figure out where I was or whose arms I was in. I turned my aching face to my bedmate and saw my happy place. “Babel?”

  His eyelids opened on his handsome face. “Hey there,” he said softly. “I came last night, but didn’t want to wake you. You all right?”

  I nodded, fighting back the tears that wouldn’t come the night before. He wrapped his arms around me and I let him hold
me tight. For a brief moment, I let him be a man to my woman and took his comfort for all it was worth.

  That is, until I heard a throat clear. I looked up.

  Babel went rigid and his voice was hard. “Hi, Doc.”

  “How are you feeling this morning, Sunny?” Billy Bob sat on the edge of my bed, the Babel-free edge—his full concentration on me.

  “I’m still pretty sore,” I said with a tight mouth.

  Billy Bob leaned in close to examine my face and Babel’s arms tightened around me. While there were worse situations than being sandwiched between two gorgeous men, I had a feeling they would kill each other before they threw any action my way.

  As Billy Bob touched my cheek, checking for swelling I guessed, a low rumble emanated from Babel. Billy Bob snarled back.

  Come on! What the hell?

  “Oh, for daisy’s sake, Babel,” I said through gritted teeth, admonishing Billy Bob with a narrow-eyed stare. “Go wait out in the living room until the doctor is finished checking me over.”

  Was I the only one in the room who remembered that I’d gotten knocked silly the night before? These guys were awfully territorial considering neither had any real claim to me. Sheesh!

  Babel skirted off the bed, grabbing his shirt from the nightstand as he left the room without even a glance back.

  Billy Bob leaned forward for a closer look at my jaw, close enough to touch, but not touching. Good man. “So, do you want another kiss?” he asked with a grin.

  Maybe not so good. But there was a part of me that twitterpated. “No.” Up close, I noticed some fine lines at the edge of his eyes.

  The first time I’d met the Shaman-doc, I’d thought he was old because of the hair, then young because of the GQ body and pretty-boy good looks. But now, now I wasn’t sure at all how old he was. Hadn’t Ruth said he’d delivered all her children? How in the world was that possible?

  “What are you thinking about?” He placed his finger between my eyebrows. “You’re going to get hard lines if you keep up that kind of concentration.”