Doctor Wolf (The Collegium Book 4)

by Jenny Schwartz

  “She’s a baby, David.”

  Liz had gotten her bleeding heart from her mom.

  “She’ll come home with me,” Liz’s grandfather said.

  Everyone stared at him, and John folded his arms, scowling back. “Why not? The bastards broke in here, would have killed our Liz to get this girl. If they want her that badly, I refuse to give her to them.”

  And Liz also got her bleeding heart from her grandfather, although he hid his better.

  She gave him a hug, and a whispered warning. “Daria isn’t a were.”

  “I can smell that,” he grumbled. His staff would take precautions not to shift in front of her. “You can come home, too. Stay at the London house. You can’t stay here.”

  “Once the door is fixed—”

  Someone growled.

  Astonished, Liz jerked around to realize the growl came from Carson.

  He strode across the room to grip her shoulders. “You will stay with John. The door is the least of it. That mage broke Albert’s wards and came through the roof.”

  “Yes, but he wasn’t after me.”

  Her protest won her a tiny shake. “He wasn’t after you, then. You don’t know who sent him or who else they might send in revenge. Go and stay with John.”

  “Or she could stay with you, Carson.” And that troublemaker with the sweet voice was her aunt Natalie.

  Instantly, Liz’s mom swung from concerned crusader for Daria’s rights to matchmaking mother. She assessed Carson in an instant, and apparently, liked what she saw. “What a good idea!”

  “No,” Carson said.

  Everyone blinked. There’d been alpha power in that refusal.

  What they didn’t know—apart from John—was the reason for Carson’s refusal. He didn’t think she’d be any safer with him since people were after the Elixir Gentians in the greenhouse.

  Liz decided retreat was the safest course. “Daria and I need to pack a few clothes.” She glanced down at her bloodstained skirt. “And I need to shower.”

  “Good idea.” Her mom put an arm around Daria’s shoulders and urged her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  Her dad’s voice sounded clearly even as they climbed the stairs. “All right, Carson. Explain things, again, please.”

  Carson answered just as clearly. “I knew Liz was hiding something…”

  Chapter 7

  Carson ran as a wolf through the streets of London. It was four a.m., the hour when the city mostly slept. Even so, since he didn’t have the amulet Liz had lent him the previous night, he kept to the shadows and along paths where surveillance cameras wouldn’t record him. He kept away, too, from Kew Gardens and its memories of running with Liz.

  He was mad with her, furious enough that the wolf was wild in his blood.

  How could he protect her if she lied to him—or, at least, lied by omission?

  She didn’t want his protection.

  He understood now why she’d called that abrupt halt to their love-making. She’d wanted to keep the secret of Daria’s presence in her home, and he’d have noticed the scent of Daria’s long-term stay. You couldn’t fool a were into believing the woman was a drop-in visitor. Her scent was through the house, especially in the kitchen.

  Liz was a dangerously compassionate woman. She’d taken in a woman without a future and helped to build her a new one. That had just been blown to smithereens.

  He’d seen the worried frustration in Liz’s family’s eyes. How did you protect someone who’d put themselves in danger to save others?

  A howl started in his throat and he coughed at the effort it took to strangle it. Four stories up, a small dog yapped back at him from behind an apartment window. He loped on, aware that it would be light soon and he’d have to return home or switch back to human and find himself miles from home without any money.

  He ought to stand down. Liz was safe, now. Her parents had taken her to their penthouse apartment in Canary Wharf. John had taken Daria with him back to the London mansion with its wide and secure grounds. The danger to Liz had gone, and he should concentrate on the Elixir Gentians.

  A snarl escaped him, frightening a Siamese cat out of its hiding place behind the wheel of a parked car and into a panicked scramble over a fence and away.

  He would concentrate on the gentians after he’d found out who had sent the mage and vicious thugs after Liz and Daria. The human trafficker Andrew Thirkell had ordered the hit, but the man was inside prison. Someone on the outside had to be the immediate organizer, the person who had put Liz in danger.

  Carson wanted vengeance.

  Liz ate a leisurely breakfast with her mom and dad before her dad had to hurry out. He was an international human rights lawyer and he had an appointment he couldn’t break. He looked sharp and distinguished in his dark gray suit with a subdued red tie.

  “But don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone.” His unhopeful gaze shifted from his wife to his daughter, and he sighed. “Or leave me a message about what you intend to do before you dash off to save the world.”

  They both hugged him. His dry manner and the slight distance of his leopard-were nature compared to the sociability of their wolf natures, hid from everyone except family that he was as tender-hearted and passionate about justice as any of them.

  “And no more hiding people under a death threat,” he added to Liz.

  She sighed. “I can’t. My cover’s blown.”

  “Thank God.” David Jekyll walked out to catch the elevator down to the street.

  Liz’s mom poured herself another coffee. “I can’t say I’m sorry you’re out of the business of risking your life.”

  “It’s never been this dramatic,” Liz said. “Daria needed help.”

  “She’ll get it.” Michelle sipped her coffee. “And I understand why you wanted to help—and it explains why suddenly you didn’t want anyone dropping in to visit you at home. I assume that edict is lifted?”

  Liz smiled slightly. “Yes.” The rule had been odd for a sociable wolf-were, and it had been a lonesome life. “It’ll be good to have the pack around, again.”

  “They’ll all scold you,” Michelle warned.

  “Because they love me.” Liz’s smiled widened and relaxed. She selected a blueberry Danish pastry, her favorite, and bit into it. There was comfort in being temporarily back in her parents’ home and being slightly spoiled.

  “And what about Carson Erving? Does he love you, too?”

  Liz choked on the pastry and took a hasty gulp of coffee. “Mom!”

  “He fought well,” Michelle abandoned teasing to say seriously.

  “Yes.”

  He’d fought well and he’d fought for her. Then again, after the fight, he’d also looked ready to burst a blood vessel at how she’d put herself in danger to hide Daria. His wolf had been close to the surface, perhaps from the fight. Perhaps, too, from the threat to her?

  “Carson has his own problems,” Liz said.

  Michelle looked a question.

  “Secret,” Liz said.

  “But he told you?”

  Liz laughed. “Don’t look so hopeful. He told me because Grandfather ordered him to.”

  “Ah. Dad knows Carson. I’ll have to inquire.”

  Liz could only shake her head. Nothing daunted her mom for long. In fact, probably the only reason Liz had gotten away with hiding Daria for so long was Michelle’s current distraction. Michelle was determined to welcome Fay into the family in the grandest possible way. Personally, Liz didn’t think Fay was the kind of woman to enjoy a grand wedding and a princess-style bridal gown. Liz would, but Liz was a sociable wolf-were. She suspected Fay’s acquiescence to Michelle’s grandiose wedding plans was partly wanting to please her in-laws, but mostly not caring as long as she had Steve.

  Fay and Steve were cute together.

  Which reminded her. “I phoned Steve and told him about the situation with Daria. He’d already heard, from multiple people.”

  It was her mom’s
turn to laugh. “A wolf pack only interferes because they love you.”

  “Uh huh.” But there was no animosity in Liz’s response. She loved being enclosed in a group of people who cared. In fact, being able to have her friends and family drop in and stay with her again was the one upside to last night’s disaster. “Steve’s booked a plane flight home. He and Fay will be here, late afternoon.”

  “Four o’clock.” Trust her mom to have all the details. “They would have travelled by portal if it had been urgent, but air travel puts them officially in the UK, in case they need to act.” Portals were a form of near-instantaneous transit whose magic fortunately did work for weres. The Suzerain’s fort in Alexandria was sited over one portal, and London had its own portal in the cellar of a pub on Drury Lane. Portal travel through the in-between was useful, but if you were likely to come to the mundane authorities’ knowledge, then you really needed to travel by mundane means and have your official documents in order.

  “I’ll be fine,” Liz said. “Steve’s over-protective.”

  “Fay booked the tickets.”

  Liz rolled her eyes and finished her blueberry pastry.

  Michelle put down her empty coffee cup. “While she’s here, Fay will have a fitting for her dress. But nothing will distract Steve. He’ll want answers to who attacked you.”

  “I want those answers, too. How did they know Daria was in my house? Even if they used magic, Albert’s look-away spell would have prevented them locating her with dowsing. She never went out, so how did they find her?”

  “Dad will keep her safe,” Michelle said.

  “I couldn’t ask for better protection than Grandfather’s home, but it’s not a long term solution to Daria’s problems, and, selfishly, I can’t let it go either. They invaded my home. I’ve phoned the hospital to take some personal leave. I have to know who broke my security and—they shot Albert in my house.” Liz heard the growl in her voice.

  Michelle nodded. That was an affront no wolf-were could let go: that in her den, a friend had been attacked. “Where do you want to start?”

  Carson was accosted just inside the entrance of the expensive apartment building.

  The concierge was a wolf-were, his face vaguely familiar from the few times Carson had spent with the Beo Pack. “Carson, good morning. I’ll have to phone up.”

  So apparently Darryl—Carson had to check the man’s name badge—recognized him and the were rumor mill had provided the reason for Carson’s visit.

  Did they all believe he was Liz’s boyfriend? And, remembering their incendiary kisses last night, was he?

  “Michelle says for you to go up. The penthouse elevator is to your left.”

  The penthouse elevator could have comfortably held twelve people. It had dull metal sides, a vinyl floor and no camera. No luxury carpet, here. It was an elevator a bleeding person could enter, and the evidence would just wipe away. Carson contemplated the plain floor and what that said about the people he was visiting: wealthy, but practical wolf-weres.

  It wasn’t Liz who opened the door to him, but her mom, Michelle. “Good morning, Carson. Coffee? Liz is getting ready for the day.”

  He stretched his hearing, but the penthouse was well-soundproofed. He had no idea where Liz was or what she was doing. “Coffee would be great.” He took a seat at a comfortable kitchen table, his nose telling him that Liz had been there only minutes before.

  “I’m glad we have a few minutes to talk,” Michelle said.

  “Oh?” The hair on the back of his neck rose in warning.

  Liz’s mom smiled. She was tall like her daughter, with shorter hair, and dressed very practically in jeans, a cotton check shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and boots. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to give you the third degree. Steve will be here this afternoon, and you’ll discover that there’s nothing as protective as an older brother.”

  “Steve’s a friend,” Carson said.

  “Is he? And there was I, thinking it was my dad who vouched for you.” Michelle looked intrigued, but then she glanced towards a doorway and lowered her voice. “Liz doesn’t want me hovering, but I want someone with her if she leaves the penthouse. Will you stay close?”

  He nodded. He intended to find some answers, and he expected Liz would want to go with him.

  “Thank you.” Michelle patted his hand.

  You have no idea what I just promised. But he stifled his guilt as he heard Liz’s approach.

  Michelle stood. “I have a construction site waiting inspection, so if you’ll excuse me?”

  He stood with the good manners his own mom had instilled in him. “Good-bye.”

  “Bye, Mom.” Liz hovered in the doorway till Michelle had departed. Her gaze kept darting to him and away. She was uncomfortable. “Carson, did I say thank you, last night?”

  “Yes.” He wasn’t certain what to do, either. He was accustomed to a confident Liz, not this uncertain woman. Plus, he’d never felt this knotted tension in his gut before. It wasn’t fear, it was far more complicated. Anticipation and confusion. He abandoned words and thought, and went with his instincts. He opened his arms and Liz ran into them.

  Holding her tight felt right.

  “I was so scared,” she muttered.

  He tightened his hold.

  “I was scared and angry,” she continued her confession. “I was afraid you’d be hurt. Killed. Or that Daria would be. I promised I’d keep her safe.”

  “You did.” He rubbed her back, his own confusion and uncertainty fading as he held her.

  “We did.” She pulled back, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “I need a tissue.” He released her and she crossed the room to grab a tissue from a box, blow her nose and throw the tissue away. “Good thing I didn’t put mascara on.” Her voice was shaky.

  “Come back here,” he said.

  Her smiled wobbled, then steadied. She returned to his embrace. “It was kind of you to come and see how I am. I’m sorry I cried all over you.”

  “As to that,” he said uncomfortably.

  She’d been rubbing a hand over his chest, quiet and calm in his relaxed hold. Now, her hand stilled. Her quick glance at his expression showed her startlement.

  He kissed her mouth lightly, tasting tears and toothpaste and a trace of raspberry lip balm. “I have a question for you.”

  “Go on.”

  He thought of going on in all seriousness, going on to steal more kisses, but this was important. “How did the intruders know that Daria was in your house?”

  “That’s what I want to know!” Liz struck his chest in her excitement. “I phoned my contact in the shelter network last night to inform them of what happened and I asked if anyone had followed them or Daria’s voice coach. They were the only two people who knew she was staying with me. Neither of them had any sense that they’d been made.”

  Her sincere use of the outdated mob slang, “made”, amused him. But her point was crucial, and confirmed part of his reasoning. It was his turn to nod and urge her to go on.

  She paced. “Albert’s ward wasn’t broken at random. It required significant power and skill. A person wouldn’t hire a mage like that unless they were sure of what they were after—like with the break-in at your greenhouse. They knew the cost and risk of hiring a mage to break that ward was worth it.” She frowned out the window, at the astonishing view of London, then swung around to stare at Carson. “How would Andrew Thirkell know to hire a mage? He’s a mundane.”

  “He is,” Carson said with emphasis.

  Her mouth compressed, as if he’d confirmed a thought of hers. “A human trafficker who works with mages. We’ll have to contact the Collegium. They handle rogue mages.”

  “I’m sure someone’s already told them.”

  She walked back to him. The white sleeveless shirt she wore showed off the light, golden tan on her arms and their muscled perfection. Her legs were the same, perfect, beneath a pair of abbreviated navy shorts. Her sandals were flat and comfortably casual, made of
natural leather. “What are you thinking?”

  Time to put his cards on the table. He was here because he had suspicions that only she could confirm. “When we got back to your house last night, Albert was already there because he’d felt the ward break. If Albert used the same pattern of warding as at the greenhouse, the first layer was a look-away spell and the inner ward was set to keep people out. Only, neither ward affects weres.”

  Liz’s stillness suggested she’d also considered the facts, and drawn similar conclusions. “It’s true, wards or not, a were who came to my house could see, smell and hear its inhabitants. If they knew Daria, they could recognize her. But what are the chances of a were knowing her scent well enough to pick it up? And while our lives are filled with weres, there aren’t actually that many of them. We’re a tiny percentage of the population. I haven’t scented any around my home for days.”

  “Except Brandon,” Carson said deliberately.

  She stared at him. “No. He’s pack!”

  “And your instincts screamed so loudly at you when he appeared outside your house that you panicked and rushed to claim me as your boyfriend.”

  “Carson, it couldn’t be Brandon.”

  “Why not?”

  “Whoever it was hired a mage and mundanes to invade the house. If he’d used weres, the mage wouldn’t have been necessary. The wards wouldn’t need to have been broken. They’d have been irrelevant.”

  “You’re the sister of the Suzerain.” Carson gripped her hands. “Which weres do you think would be suicidal enough to attack you?” She pulled at his hold, but he wouldn’t release her. “Think past your emotions. Who else but Brandon had a chance to observe Daria behind the wards?”

  “But how would he recognize her?”

  “He’d have to know Andrew Thirkell,” Carson said bluntly.

  “A human trafficker?” Liz looked sick. “A sadistic bastard. It can’t be Brandon. He loves his daughters.”

  “So?”

  She regarded him in horror and appeal. “No.”

  “Then tell me who else it could be.”

  They stared at one another. Then she wrenched free. “I’m going to the hospital. I want to see how Albert is and if there’s anything he can tell us about the mage.”