Long Shadows: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 2

by Cecilia Dominic

  There was a picture tucked in the pages of Alicia and Giancarlo holding hands by a river. They gazed at each other and smiled, and my heart broke at their happiness but also at what I knew would eventually happen. There had been no mention of an uncle to go with Aunt Lucia, and I wondered if it was a family tradition that those of us who were “different” were doomed to always be single. I couldn’t help it, my gaze drifted to the stairs. And alone.

  Then came the last journal, which had the words, “The Experiment” on the inside cover. I felt a jolt when I held it and had to rub my hands on my skirt.

  Julia called me tonight. She said she and Marco are having a baby, and she asked if I’d found anyone yet. “To have a baby with?” I asked. “No, there’s no one.” I didn’t tell her about Giancarlo, how he’d promised to come back when he was done with his next tutoring job. I don’t think he’s coming back. Hard to write, but it’s the plain truth.

  “Oh, Alicia,” she said in her breathless way, “what are we going to do? What if it’s the one who’s going to be like Aunt Lucia and you?” I called Giancarlo, and he actually picked up for once. His tone was cold and tired, like he was sick of dealing with me.

  “Do you have the things I told you to gather?” he asked.

  “Yes, they’re all here.”

  He told me what to do. He said our kind weren’t good at spells, but I could probably get us close enough with our mixed blood. I proposed his idea to Julia, who agreed, reluctantly, and asked that we not share our plan with her husband.

  My hands shook. What did they do to me? I kept reading with the next entry.

  Julia came with the baby today and without Marco. The little girl Lonna is so precious! And her eyes are fading from newborn blue to what looks like it might be pale green. Like I know anything about babies and their eyes, and I might just be a doting aunt, but this one is going to be a beauty. We placed a sprig of wolfsbane at the head of the crib. Out of the way of the baby, of course, since the stuff is poison unless you know how to use it correctly. That’s step one. The hope is that exposing her to the aroma of the flowers will keep the wolf part of the brain from developing. It all sounds suspect to me, but apparently we are focusing on balancing out the wolf, human, and other parts of her. I can’t even say what the other part is because it would put her and all of us in danger.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “In danger of what?” My eyes burned, and I had to stop and put the journals away. I took the box upstairs, slid it under my bed, and hid it behind a plastic storage box full of wrapping paper. After taking a mostly cold shower, I thought about getting back into my family history, but I had the feeling again of someone watching me—cold fingers across the back of my neck. I turned off the light and crept into the hallway. Max met me on the landing. I gripped the railing and willed my knees to stop shaking.

  “Did you feel it?” I asked. My heartbeat lodged somewhere around my voice box, and even my voice trembled. All I wanted was for him to take me in his arms and tell me he would protect me, but he remained still, and I felt the static buzzing around him.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Remember I told you in the woods that my realm is light? It’s actually energy. Someone is trying to get past the wards I put on the house.”

  “Why?”

  The look he gave me told me I needed to leave the country of denial, and quickly.

  “Right. Because someone’s after me. Are you sure it’s not you?”

  “It’s always a possibility, but you’re the more valuable of the two of us.”

  “Right. The mixed blood.”

  He gripped my arm. “Who told you that?”

  I pulled away. “I’ve been learning about myself while I’m here. We can talk about this later.”

  “Whatever happens, just stay out of my way.”

  The air pressure built and then released, and my ears popped. Max glowed orange and yellow like he was on fire from within, and his turquoise eyes blazed. Something gathered in me in response, and internal twisting and tensing told me I was about to change.

  “Max,” I gasped, “it’s happening.”

  “Let it! I’ll hold them off while you do, but as much as you can, don’t make yourself an easy shot. They may have tranquilizer darts.”

  I nodded, unable to speak. The hallway runner rushed up to meet me as I fell to my knees and then stomach. Max loosened my clothes and couldn’t help but wish he’d done that earlier in a different context. The sexual energy that came to mind seemed to speed the process, and in a moment, I was shaking the clothes off.

  “Brilliant,” he said and flashed me a smile. Literally, it was like lightning with my heightened senses. “Since you can see in the dark, be sure you get a good look at who they are. I don’t plan to allow them to escape, but if they do, I need to report them.”

  “Who do you think they are?”

  “Rogue wizards. They’re acting directly contrary to orders from the Command to leave you and your kind alone.”

  I snarled. “Let’s kick some tail.”

  There was no crash, but I heard the lock on the back door being picked. We descended the stairs as quietly as we could, which is harder with four feet than with two. As we moved, Max gathered energy, and it made my fur stand on end.

  The first man was through the door by the time we got down the stairs. He had messy black hair and a scar down one cheek that ended at the corner of an eye patch.

  “There’s a pirate?”

  “A thug,” Max told me. “Remember, don’t make yourself an easy shot.”

  Max loosed a lightning bolt, and the man fell back screaming. The one behind him caught him and used him as a shield to force his way into the room. Max kept throwing electricity and fire at him, but I could tell he wasn’t shooting to kill.

  Eyepatch guy’s yelling hurt my ears, so I darted around the couch and bit the second guy on the back of the thigh. The toughness of the flesh told me I’d gotten part of his hamstring, and he fell to the floor with a hiss, releasing the pirate so he could flop out of the way and give Max a clear shot at whoever was behind them.

  Instead of screaming, the second one clutched his leg and yelled, “The bitch is in here! Watch for the wolf.”

  The third man who was about to come through the door paused. “She’s not supposed to be able to change.” He lobbed what looked like a ball of water at Max, who was gathering energy for another shot. Max darted out of the way, and it splashed against the fireplace.

  “The pictures! Don’t let it hurt the photos.”

  “I’ll do my best, Max said. “A little help here?”

  I leapt at the third guy’s throat and took him down but didn’t get hold of his neck. He shoved me off with surprising strength and ran into the night. That left us with the two, one of whom was bleeding and the other who buzzed and was obviously in shock—no pun intended. Max ran outside to follow the one who got away, but he returned after a short time.

  “They had a car,” he said. “Were there only three of you?” Max asked the bleeding one. The other one was unconscious.

  “Like I’m going to tell you, Blondie.”

  “Lonna, how about you do to him what you were threatening to do to me when we first met?”

  “Gladly.”

  “Excellent. Shall we start with the slow evisceration? Or would you like to emasculate him first?”

  “Evisceration, of course. It’s my favorite.”

  “The lady says evisceration. It will be a slower, more painful death as she opens your abdominal wall and slowly drags your intestines out across the room. Did you know how long they are? I’m sure it will fascinate you.”

  “You’re bluffing,” he said, but he watched me with frightened eyes, and I smelled his terror.

  I slowly moved toward him, growling low and with my teeth bared. He tried to scoot backwards, but Max blocked him and secured his hands with a belt. His blood made a nice savory, metallic topping for his sweet, sweet fear
, and I had to battle the urge to allow the predator in me to take over. He threatened me, invaded my home, and may have tried to poison me earlier this week. Scumbag deserves to die. A red film covered my vision, and the man’s frightened look changed to one of terror when I leapt at him, aiming for his throat.

  “Lonna, no!” A ball of electricity knocked me to the side, and I crashed into the coffee table.

  I shook my head, the red now gone, and I panted. Damn.

  “I suggest you tell us what we need to know before the lady loses control,” Max told him, but he kept a wary eye on me as well.

  “You can’t control her any more than I can,” the guy on the floor said. My nose twitched at the scent of the urine he now sat in a pool of.

  “True, so if you want me to give you some medical attention and stop the bleeding, talk.”

  “Fine, there were just three of us. The boss said that should be enough to get past you, especially with Henry, that yellow coward, being like you.”

  “I see. And Henry was the one who got away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lonna, did you get a good look at him?”

  “I think so. Pudgy face. Blond curly hair. Nose looked like it had been broken.”

  A despairing look flickered over Max’s face.

  “They told us the bitch couldn’t change, that they’d taken care of her.”

  “They were wrong. Where did Henry go?”

  The thug shrugged. “Don’t know. They don’t tell us much in case we get captured.”

  I lay on the rug by the fireplace, panting from Max’s electric attack, and glared at him. Hearing that the rogue wizard was gone meant I was out of danger, and—

  Uh, oh. I dashed out of the room. As I ran up the stairs, my paws slipped, and my legs turned rubbery. By the time I was halfway up, my paws had changed into hands and feet. I paused and found myself lying naked balanced between two steps, their edges digging into my flesh.

  Crap. I made my way back up on shaky feet. Without turning on the light, I put on some boxers and a T-shirt. I intended to go back downstairs to help him with the prisoners, but a wave of fatigue overtook me, and I barely made it to the bed, where I thought I’d fall into a deep sleep. Instead, my leaden limbs—not paralyzed, but too heavy to move—kept me still while my mind raced through what had happened. I lay and stared at the ceiling until Max came in.

  “Are you awake?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I rolled over to turn on the light and saw blood all over the sheets. “Shit.”

  In an instant, he was at my side, checking me for injuries.

  “I shouldn’t have hit you so hard, but I thought you were going to kill that guy. Taking a hit like that can confuse your nerves for a while.”

  I batted his hands away. “Probably not my blood. I’m fine. Now.” I made myself look him in the eyes, afraid I’d find fear or revulsion in them, but what I found was worse. Pity.

  He trapped my hands in his. “You’re my responsibility. At least let me make sure. You could be in shock.”

  “Seriously, do I look like I’m in shock?” I stood, and he did as well.

  “No,” he said with a resigned smile. “At least not nearly as much as that poor guy downstairs.”

  “Which one? The electrocuted one with the eyepatch or the one who talked?”

  “The one with the eyepatch. Unfortunately, they were hired muscle and didn’t give me much useful information, but you’re safe for the moment.”

  “Yeah, until rogue wizard guy can get back here with reinforcements and a trank gun.” I sighed and started stripping the bed. “What did you do with them, anyway?”

  “I had them picked up by some friends. They’re headed for a dungeon far away from here.”

  “Oh.”

  He held out his hands. “Lonna, it’s okay, I’ll take care of the sheets.”

  “You do laundry?” I asked.

  “If I do, will you let me make sure you’re unhurt?”

  I suspected he asked out of guilt, not caring. “Fine, but you’re not seeing me naked. We’re keeping it professional, remember?”

  “I’m a doctor. It’s my job to see you naked.” Now he blushed, and I crossed my arms and bit my lip to keep from laughing at him.

  “Freudian slip, Doctor?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant. Go take a shower and you can tell me if any of the blood that washes off is yours. I’ll change the bed. Where are the clean sheets?”

  I directed him to the linen closet and went down the hallway to the bathroom, dropping my soiled T-shirt and boxers on the way.

  Aside from a couple of minor cuts that stung when the water hit them and some bruises I knew I’d feel in the morning, I was unhurt. As promised, he changed the sheets and had the dirty ones going in the washing machine.

  “Thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that. It was my fault. I’ve gotten unused to changing and should have realized I had the thug’s blood on me.”

  “Were you able to change back at will?” He smoothed a crease in the pillow.

  I shook my head. “No, it was the same as before. As soon as I felt safe, I changed back. Halfway up the stairs.”

  He grimaced. “I’m glad you didn’t fall down them.”

  “Me, too. A naked woman tumbling down the stairs might have distracted you from your interrogation.”

  He stood and took me in his arms. Although I’m tall, he was able to tuck my head under his chin.

  “Why do you joke when you’re anxious?” he asked. “It’s okay to be vulnerable.”

  I fought my impulse to snuggle into him and stepped back. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes, and unless you’re planning on being unprofessional, don’t hug me again.”

  “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. If I’d damaged you…” The expression on his face was distressed, but I couldn’t tell why. Again, was it guilt or caring?

  “You didn’t. Plus, I’m not a precious object or a piece of furniture. I’m obviously tougher than Aunt Alicia’s coffee table.”

  “I’ll pay to replace that. I hope it wasn’t a family heirloom or anything.”

  “Well, that was Aunt Pearl’s antique table.” I tried, but I couldn’t keep a straight face.

  He looked really concerned, then raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have an Aunt Pearl, do you?”

  “Not that I know of.” And I’m not telling you about Great Aunt Lucia.

  “Good. Well, good night. Thanks for your help earlier.”

  “Good night, and likewise.”

  We stood there looking at each other, and I wasn’t sure whether we should shake hands or what. Finally, he bowed slightly and moved past me to the door.

  I sat on the bed and hugged a pillow. Finally being alone in a clean bed in a room that I had spent so many hours in as a kid, it hit me fully. This isn’t a game. Someone’s after me, possibly to kill me, and I don’t know why. I smacked the bed. Max isn’t going to let me find the answers on my own, so I need to talk to someone who might—Giancarlo.

  With that decision made, I once again packed my things so I could leave in the morning. I heard Max moving around and switching the sheets from the washer to the dryer. I tried not to, but I imagined his smooth muscles bunching and moving as he did the laundry.

  Great, I’m fantasizing about a hot guy washing sheets. I shrugged. Well, what girl doesn’t? He cooks, too. Maybe he also vacuums.

  Either the real or imagined activity must have worked something out because when I got back in bed, I fell asleep… or so I thought.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I opened my eyes to a study lined with bookshelves. Two tall windows toward the back opened to a beach, and a tropical breeze flowed through the room. The waning moon reflected in slivers on the water. I checked to make sure I wasn’t wearing that damn bikini, and when I looked down, I wasn’t really there. Seriously, I didn’t have a body. A glance at a mirror across the room showed me
I was peering out from a painting of a woman with a very haughty expression and nice boobs hanging out over her ruffly bodice. I wished I could turn and check out the back of the outfit. Now this is an interesting dream. Who should my eyes follow across the room?

  An older gentleman in a red smoking jacket and pinstriped pants came in and paused by a table in front of the windows. He had a droopy face under a shining bald dome. The ice cubes, which he handled with tongs, hit the bottom and sides of a glass with emphatic clinks. He splashed some of the amber-colored liquid from a decanter into it and took a long swig. With a satisfied grunt, he put the glass down and cocked his head like he heard something.

  “Ah, good, he’s arrived,” he muttered. “About bloody time.” He fixed a second drink and topped off the first.

  The door opened, and Max strode in. He wore his customary tropical outfit of ragged khaki pants and flowing white shirt open to the waist. The other man gave him a disapproving once-over.

  “Maximilian, my boy, you could at least have worn shoes.”

  Max took the drink and tossed it back. “I’m too worn out to manifest shoes, Carrigan.”

  “What have you been doing, then? Has that wolf girl been keeping you busy?”

  Max held out his glass for a refill, which came, and then walked around the sofa and lounged on it, ankle crossed over knee.

  “That wolf girl, as you call her, has a name. It’s Lonna.”

  Carrigan waved his hand, and if I’d had teeth in the dream, I would have bared them at him. Jerk.

  “We don’t name our charges, Maximilian. It only makes us get attached to them. And you know what happens when you get attached.” A sad expression crossed his face, so fleeting and subtle I wondered if I had truly seen it.

  Oh, if only you knew. Now I hoped they wouldn’t see if the painting shed a tear. Is this why you won’t be with me, Max? Assholes like this?