by Cecy Robson
For a woman in her eighties, Mrs. Mancuso was quite agile. She chased after our car all the while flipping us off. Emme clutched the headrest of the backseat. “Oh my goodness. Celia, slow down before she breaks a hip.”
I didn’t care what Emme said. A glance at the mirror told me slowing down ranked up there with mooning a weregator. We might as well have kicked our own asses. Mrs. Mancuso was a woman possessed by fury and ill-fitting support hose.
Taran threw back her head, laughing. “That’s not funny, Taran,” Emme insisted. “I know you’d feel terrible if she did break her hip.”
No. She wouldn’t. I pulled out of the neighborhood. My last image of Mrs. Mancuso was of her standing at the top of the incline like the Statue of Liberty, minus the torch. “Crap, I hope she doesn’t detonate the house.” My eyes narrowed at Taran through the mirror. “You haven’t been leaving retirement home brochures on her doorstep again, have you?”
Taran fluffed her hair. “I only did that the one time. And she deserved it after spraying me with her damn hose.”
Shayna wiggled in her seat. She hadn’t kept still since saying good-bye to Koda. “Ceel. How do you feel about hunting demons? I mean, I know we were a little unprepared last time, but . . .”
“A little unprepared? Shayna, we took on a demon child—child. And it chomped on my foot like a taco. I get the feeling a demon lord might be a tad tougher.” She fumbled with the silver pins in her hair Misha had gifted her with. Since our showdown with the vamps and our twisted slapstick routine with the little evil bugger, Shayna was constantly armed and ready for the next brawl. I sighed. I could relate. “I want to hunt with the wolves, but Aric flat-out refuses to take me with him, especially following Misha’s possession on our front lawn.”
Her head snapped up. “I get why Aric is afraid for you. I am, too. But it doesn’t seem right for us to sit around. We’re not exactly helpless, you know.” She blew out a breath, hard enough to make her lips vibrate. “I hate Koda out there without me. I know he’s big. I know he’s tough. And I know he has more fighting experience than I do. But I want to help keep him safe. Does that sound screwy?”
“No. It’s not screwy.” Everyone grew quiet, probably thinking of their own wolves. I knew I thought about mine. “I wrestle with two sides of me. When Aric talks about tracking and what he finds, it excites my beast. Both because of her need to hunt, but also because of our need to protect. My mortal side, the one that knows I could die, is scared senseless.”
“You get scared, Celia?” Emme asked quietly.
I smiled without humor. As my sisters’ defender, I’d learned to charge first and deal with my terror after. Way after. “I’m scared a lot, Emme.”
“Sorry,” she responded meekly. “I guess that was a stupid comment.”
“It’s not, babe. I just have a good game face.” I slowed the car as I took the turn down a steep hill. It gave a stunning view of the water. Tahoe summers were gorgeous, but the demon lord’s unknown whereabouts and killing spree wouldn’t allow us to enjoy it.
“Are the runs helping you deal with some of this shit?”
“What? Oh, sorry, Taran. The running helps to a point. My tigress has been hard to control. It’s all I can do to stop myself from changing, especially once night comes. The air alters come sundown, I think because Tahoe gets energized by the moonlight.”
Emme leaned in from the back. “I’m surprised your runs don’t help you more. You seem so relaxed when you return with Aric, sweetie.”
“It’s only because he’s with me.” I stopped behind a log truck. The driver stepped out fast and adjusted the orange flags before rushing back inside, but it was the dark blue sedan driving in the opposite direction that caught my eye. I recognized the driver as that wereweasel Aric and I had encountered several weeks back. We’d taken a moonlit walk along the beach when the supernatural equivalent of a paparazzo jumped out and snapped a photo of us. I scowled when he waved. Asshole.
“What is it, Celia?” Emme asked.
“That stupid weasel that photographed me and Aric just passed us.” My scowl deepened. “He has a lot of nerve waving like we’re pals.”
“Just ignore him, Celia. Someone like him isn’t worth your time or energy.” Sometimes Emme didn’t need her mojo. Her soft voice worked its own magic. “Now, what were you saying about Aric?”
I followed the log truck. “Just that his beast has a tendency to settle mine. When he’s away from me, it’s a lot harder.” I shrugged. “Mostly, I think my tigress longs to fight with his wolf.”
Shayna swiveled in her seat. “I want to talk to Koda about going out with him again. Will you talk with Aric?”
“I can. The problem is I think my presence makes matters worse for him with his Elders. And he’s already under enough stress.” I pulled on to the road leading to our hospital. Like with many of the buildings and restaurants in the area, the stacked stone and wood exterior blended in with the environment and gave it a more mountainous appeal.
“This sucks, Ceel. But you know what? I bet if they saw how tough you are, they’d see past our, you know, uniqueness.”
“You mean ‘weirdness’?”
Shayna smiled with all the sympathy she could muster. “Yeah, dude. That, too.” She curved her fingers and bounced her hand in front of my face. “They have to accept you. You’re his sea horse.”
“You’re such a spaz.” I laughed and pushed her hand out of my face. “What do you mean by that anyway?”
It was Taran who answered, though her tone lacked Shayna’s good humor. “Sea horses mate for life, Celia.”
• • •
I flipped through my patient’s electronic chart before entering her room. Sandra Conchita Espinosa-Valdez. Spanish-speaking only. Fourth baby. Desiring a nonmedicated birth. This patient was right up my alley. I entered her room. The labor rooms all mimicked one another: one patient bed, a guest bed beneath the large windows, and a crapload of medical equipment secretly stashed behind the inconspicuous wooden panels on either side of the bed.
I smiled. “Good morning. Are you ready to have your baby?” I asked her in Spanish.
The raw scent of fury stopped me from approaching the bed. A wolf in human form leapt across the room and landed in front of me, his hands out, the muscles of his arms bulging. “Get away from my mate,” he said in broken English.
My tigress didn’t like his posture or his threatening tone. I had to work hard to pull back a growl. I took a breath, trying to relax my stance. When I felt somewhat certain I wouldn’t lunge for his throat, I dropped my hands to the sides and slowly retracted my claws. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt her. I’m here to help her have your baby.”
His nostrils flared and he growled forcefully enough to shake his form.
The woman in bed sat up, clutching her large stomach. “Papi, no,” she said when he took a step toward me.
“She’s not normal, not human,” the wolf said in Spanish.
I returned to speaking in Spanish, hoping to connect with him and to keep my fist from connecting with his jaw. “No, I’m not human. But I also mean no harm.”
A pained grimace wrinkled the woman’s face. A contraction had begun. She curved into her belly, unable to speak and barely able to draw a breath. “How long has she been contracting like this?”
The wolf wouldn’t answer me.
“How long?” I insisted.
“Almost an hour.” The wolf backed away, moving protectively to her side. He muttered animal sounds I couldn’t comprehend, all the while keeping his attention on me. When the contraction faded, the were sniffed the air again. “You smell like a feline and a wolf at the same time. How is that possible?”
He continued to assert his dominance. His problem was, no way in hell would I allow myself to be dominated. “Let me help your wife, and then I’ll tell you about it.”
The wolf tensed further and took another step closer. My muscles tightened enough to tear from my bones. I watched his
hands, his posture, and searched for any subtle twitches in his features. His next move would decide whether our beasts would clash. Or whether he’d submit and allow me to do my job.
The sour aroma of sweat and fear scratched at my nose. “Please, Papi,” his wife begged. “Don’t hurt her.”
The were finally nodded and ambled slowly to his wife’s opposite side as I advanced. I adjusted the woman’s monitor belts. To anyone entering the room, it appeared as if my full attention focused on her. That’s what separated preternaturals from humans. My tigress sensed any faint movement of air around us and searched for the burning smell of rising anger that would precede his onslaught. If he chose to attack me, I would be ready. Still, I needed to work fast and gain his trust.
I pulled the paper tracing from the monitor and held it out for the wolf and his wife to see. “Look. I want to show you how happy your baby is.”
He stalked around the bed slowly. His steps shuffled with hesitation and his breath had lowered to that carefully controlled breathing supernatural beasts practice to keep their wilder sides in check. He hadn’t decided yet whether he should kill me. Oh, goody.
He examined the paper and glanced up. I gave him, and my tigress, the courtesy of not meeting his eyes. He’d come to me like I’d asked, but his position remained protective. He angled his body so he stood between me and his wife, and so he could sense my movements.
I pointed to the lines on the paper. “You see all these jumps in the heart rate?”
He nodded. “Is that bad?”
“No, that shows me a healthy baby. Her contractions are three to five minutes apart. I think you’ll meet your baby within a few hours. I’d like to do a vaginal exam to be sure the head is down and that she’s dilating.”
Again, he nodded.
After I checked her, I explained my assessment. “Your wife is five centimeters dilated. The amniotic fluid is stained, so we’ll have to have the NICU staff present for the delivery.”
“Why so many people?”
“The baby had a bowel movement inside the bag of waters. Sometimes they can breathe it into their lungs. The NICU nurses will help clean out the airway to help prevent it from going into your baby’s lungs.”
The woman stroked her belly. “Will my baby be okay?”
“This is a common occurrence, and most babies do just fine. But we require additional staff in case there’s an issue.” I knelt before her and extended my hand, knowing better than to touch her directly in the presence of her husband. When her fingers touched my palm, I squeezed her hand gently. “I promise to take care of you and your baby.”
My explanation and the truth behind my simple gesture seemed to satisfy them both. “I’m Sandra.” The woman panted. “This is Miguel, my love.”
“And I’m Celia. Sorry about not introducing myself sooner.” I winked. “I was worried your husband would tear out my kidneys.”
Miguel dropped his eyes. “Sorry.”
When I returned from updating the doctor, I began to aid Sandra through her labor. “Here. Let me help you get on your hands and knees. It will give you some relief from your back pain.” I adjusted her in bed and covered her backside with a sheet.
Miguel stood on her opposite side, watching me with renewed curiosity. “Tell me about your scent.”
I rubbed Sandra’s back. Her contractions had intensified and they returned in shorter intervals. “I don’t think now is the best time.”
Sandra spoke between sharp intakes of breath. “No, please tell us. It’ll be a nice distraction.”
I braided Sandra’s long dark hair and swept it over her shoulder so the strands wouldn’t dangle in her face. I didn’t like talking about me but did so to help Sandra. “Well, okay. I’m a tigress.”
“But not were,” Miguel said.
I shook my head. “No. Definitely not were.”
“Then what?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Miguel.” Hell, we’d managed to bond, but we weren’t exactly buds.
Miguel motioned at me with his chin. “What about your other aroma?”
“My boyfriend is a werewolf. We live together.” My admission made me blush. While Aric and I hadn’t officially discussed it, or announced it, we did live together. Hunting evil expeditions aside, Aric and I were always together and hadn’t slept apart since the first night we made love.
Miguel frowned. “Is he a lone wolf?”
“No.”
“Are you mates?”
His question upset me, mostly because I wanted it to be true. “No. We’re not mates.”
Miguel and Sandra exchanged confused glances. Miguel leaned my way. “Then why do his Elders allow him with you?”
Allow? It was a strong word, and not one I completely comprehended. I answered as best I could. “I think Aric’s Leader status allows him more freedom.”
Sandra, who had saturated her gown with sweat, gawked at me like I’d asked for dibs on the placenta. “A Leader? The male who shares your bed is of pure blood?”
Many females believed the pains of childbirth granted the laboring woman the freedom to say whatever she wanted. Sandra, it appeared, was one of these gals.
Miguel’s suspicious frown returned. “Aric? You’re romantically involved with Aric Connor?”
Sandra was one centimeter shy of spitting out a human being. Yet I was the one growing increasingly uncomfortable. “Ah. Yes.”
Miguel took a deep breath, trying to sniff out what he pretty much perceived as a blatant lie. His aggressive demeanor turned to shock the moment my scent reached his nose. “You speak the truth.”
Sandra reached for Miguel’s hand, tears streaking her cheeks in tiny zigzags. “Miguel, the love of Aric Connor will deliver our baby.”
My voice cracked. “Um. I don’t think Aric would necessarily refer to me as his ‘love.’”
My statement had little effect on dissolving their obvious idolization of Aric. For the first time since we met, Miguel smiled.
Sandra, thank the Lord, started to grunt. “I think I have to push.”
I paged the doctor to the room. Twenty minutes later Sandra gave birth to her and Miguel’s first daughter.
I said a quick good-bye following the recovery and headed for the locker room. Sandra’s delivery had been the messiest of my career. So much pea-soup-colored amniotic fluid had spewed, I half expected Linda Blair to come crawling out of Sandra’s vagina. Our third-year resident physician had gagged, but at least when the baby came out, and Sandra hemorrhaged, he managed to keep it together. It didn’t matter that he threw up in the hall afterward; the important thing was mommy and baby were now fine.
Good grief. I examined my overly soiled scrubs. Sandra’s body fluids had seeped through the fabric. Rather than attempting to pull the top over my head, I tore them off and called it a day.
I grabbed the emergency shampoo and body wash Shayna and I kept in our locker and headed for the shower. As I scrubbed Sandra’s DNA off my body, my mind wandered back to Miguel’s comment. He had asked how Aric was “allowed” to live with me. Although I had said Aric could do whatever he wanted, I couldn’t be positive that was completely true.
When I finished washing, I reached for my towel to dry my face. But it was gone.
“You don’t call on me anymore, kitten.”
I slammed backward against the tiled wall. “Misha! What the hell are you doing here?”
He tilted his head; an amused smile lifted the edges of his mouth. I ripped the towel from his hand and wrapped it around me before he could answer.
Misha’s smile turned from amused to downright wicked. “I came to see you. Is this any way to greet an old friend?”
“Are you out of your blood-sucking mind?” I stumbled out and scanned the locker room. “Anyone could walk in here!”
“Do not fear, my love. Edith Anne and Agnes Concepción are guarding both entrances.”
The Catholic schoolgirls were here, too. Awesome. “Oh. Okay, Misha. Now I feel
better.” I stomped behind the row of gray lockers and slammed my door open. My hands yanked on my clothes as if Mother Teresa’s soul depended on it. The moment all the important girl parts were covered, I stormed around to the other side and jabbed my finger into his chest. “Do not let those two munch on my coworkers. And I’m not your love!”
“No, not currently.” Much to my annoyance, he continued to smile and took a seat on the wooden bench. His long legs bent at an angle as he leaned forward to rest his forearms against his knees. Misha’s light blue silk shirt gave his gray eyes an added glint, or maybe his amusement. Whatever it was, it bugged the hell out of me. “I see by those marks between your breasts the mutt continues to show you affection. Now, had you been in my company, the only evidence of our time together would be a smile that would never fade from your face.”
I adjusted my top and narrowed my eyes. Emme must’ve missed a few spots. “How long were you watching me?”
“I arrived somewhere between the cucumber body wash and the juniper and olive oil conditioner.”
My hands dropped to my sides. “I don’t believe you. And for the love of all things holy, wipe that smirk off your face.”
He didn’t. In fact, it widened. “You seem angry with me. Why is that?”
“I’m not angry with you, Misha. I’m pissed at you! Aric would freak if he knew you just saw me naked.”
“Why? After all, I have seen you without clothing before.” He chuckled. “Or did you fail to inform him?”
I picked up my wet towel off the floor and tossed it into the hamper next to him. “I’ll have you know I tell Aric everything.” Excluding the part where his archenemy had held me against him naked. “Now tell me what you’re doing here.”
“My master Uri is visiting my residence. I came to invite you to join us for dinner.”
“Am I on the menu?”
Misha considered me quite the comedian. His shoulders shook when he laughed. “No. I assure you, you are not.”
I paused. Something didn’t seem right. “You could have called me or texted me. There was no reason to stop by. Especially here.”
