by Gina Kincade
But then again, there was a naked woman standing in an alley where there had just been a wolf dog so, there you go.
God, she hoped the crazy wasn’t catching.
That was television and popular culture. This was reality. The woman must have been under the crates the whole time and she just didn’t see her properly for sweat pouring into her eyes. Or the heat.
The woman in front of her wasn’t a ravening beast, however. She was a mother trying to protect her child. Nothing more. Tears prickled at the edges of Joanie’s eyes and she struggled to make sense out of the seemingly impossible.
“I'm Clare. Please save my son. I'm… sorry I bit you.” Her lips trembled and a tear slid down her cheek. “I'm just so sorry. Please forgive me.” Clare’s eyes strayed to the fallen Darius. “You have to hurry. Get away before he kills you.” The woman crumpled to the ground, her body limp.
“No!” Joanie surged forward, a wave of dizziness settled in, threatening to pull her to her knees. She reached out and clung to the brick wall, her breath ragged and her vision blurring.
Shit. Why was she so woozy?
Joanie looked around frantically for her boss only to find him backing away toward the truck, a horrified expression on his face. The woman was dying and without medical aid she wouldn’t make it. As it was, her own head was swimming, the pain in her foot radiating through her body in a searing burn.
Why was he leaving?
“Tim. Please. You have to get help.” She held her breath, watching the emotions cross his face in rapid succession.
It was getting harder and harder to focus. She had to protect the woman, and the pup.
Darius climbed to his feet, aiming his wand at Tim. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Nowhere.” Her boss reached into his shirt and pulled something out, aiming it at the maniac.
Jesus. He had a wand too? What the hell?
Joanie blinked.
“You’re going to try and best me? You—from an inferior witching family?” Darius snarled and released a jolt of wild magic.
Joanie gasped as the force of the spell crashed into the wall behind Tim.
Finger fumbling, she dug her phone out of the case at her hip. She hit 911 and slipped it back into the holster and turned to face their attacker, knees wobbling.
“I’m going to kill you, bitch.”
Joanie gasped and tried to reach for the Tazer but her fingers wouldn’t work. She sank to her knees with a whimper.
No. She couldn’t give up.
But her body wouldn’t listen. Heat surged up and her flesh burned, the muscles inside of her rebelling at every turn.
‘Try it, asshole.” Tim raised his wand, a winding spiral of purple energy forming at the tip. “I don’t need a pedigree to zot your ass into next week. This movement of yours has gotten out of control and I’m tired of dealing with your overzealous bullshit.”
“Overzealous?” Darius cackled, a vicious smile slashed across his face. “You’re not an innocent. Have you forgotten the beast that killed your mother? What about him?”
“I’ll never forget,” Tim spat. “But I won’t be a party to murdering women.”
“You’ll do as you are told.”
“Fuck you. I’m not your puppet and I sure as hell am not Mason’s.” Tim raised his wand and sent a burst of purple fire raging in his direction. The power wrapped around him, snapping him backwards into the brick wall. He slid down, a look of dazed fury on his face.
“Mason will hear about this.” Darius spat.
“No. He won’t.” Tim fired, only this time Darius didn’t get up.
The scent of burnt flesh met her nose and the sound of an ambulance siren was the last thing she remembered as Joanie surrendered to the darkness that pulled her under.
Chapter Four
“Crispy critter in room three. Male. Dead on arrival.” Nina raced toward the nurse’s station, her gaze connecting with Royce’s. It was early evening, but it may as well have been the middle of the night for the level of crazy that had ensued over the last hour and a half.
“What else?” Royce looked over the current wall chart of patients as Nina scribbled in info on some newly admitted patients.
The resident scurried by flanked by two of the younger nurses as they made their way down to the childbirth room. He would hear if there were any problems. The boy had gotten scolded earlier in the evening and would be on his best behavior. Still, keeping an eye on him would be prudent. Royce sent out a quick text to the other ER doctors and got ready for the next round.
“We also have two females. One has been bitten on the left foot. Another woman arrived with her. Life signs are weak and she’s been placed in intensive care.” She glanced at Royce and looked away.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“You need to deal with this in a private room, boss. One of those hairy problems again.” Nina met his eyes and gave him a nod. Shifter issue then. Okay.
The vampire was his best resource, there was no doubt. He wouldn’t have been able to catch half of the shifters brought in if she hadn’t been so observant. It was up to them to make sure no one got bitten, and a sick shifter made everyone around them vulnerable to attack.
“Where is she?”
“Follow me. I put her in one of the closed door suites for now.” Nina took off down the hall toward the doors. “There’s something else you should know before we get there.”
“What?” Now he was getting irritated. It wasn’t like her to be this evasive.
“The man who arrived with the ambulance said he needed to speak with you. He’s right outside.”
Royce scowled. “We don’t have time for that.”
“I know, but I think you need to hear what he has to say.” She gave him a knowing look and waded through the crowds in the waiting room, pushing out into the humid night. An athletic man wearing a dirty gray tee shirt and jeans stood next to an animal rescue truck, the glow of the parking lot light shining down on him like a dirty yellow halo.
His wolf on alert, he exited the building with a whoosh of the sliding doors, the cool of the air conditioned ER giving way to the humid Texas heat.
Preternatural awareness slid over his skin. This man was no mere human. Royce scented the air but the most he could detect was an essence of magic around him. Spent magic.
Witch.
Royce’s wolf hunched low beneath his skin, his gaze flickering over the parking lot. Nothing appeared out of place but his wolf would not be assuaged.
“If this is your idea of a trap, you’re foolish to do anything here.” His teeth clenched and he cocked his head to listen for others.
“Dr. Buchanan?”
“I am. What do you want here, witch?”
Running a hand roughly through his hair, the man shook his head, strain written over his features. “Who I am isn’t important. You have two women that just arrived by ambulance. One was bitten by the other.”
So far he wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Why was the scent of Royce’s pack on him?
Unease churned in his gut.
“Go on.”
The man turned to the truck and reached for a latch on one of the side cage doors.
Royce growled. “Be careful. Hospital grounds or not, if you try one of your spells or anything else, I’ll rip out your throat without thinking twice.”
“No. Wait.” The witch blanched and held up his hand, a tired expression crossing his face. “The last thing I want is any more trouble. Joanie didn’t deserve what happened to her today. If I had known…” He closed his mouth, his jaw tightening.
“Act carefully.” Royce took a step forward. If he had to attack, he didn’t want witnesses. The lot was quiet now, but that wouldn’t last for long. Nothing about the ER lent itself to peace.
“Here. This is yours. Take it.” The witch unlocked the cage and a pair of bright eyes peered out from the darkness.
What in the holy fuck?
David?
Fury bristled and his wolf slid close beneath his skin as he looked into the eyes of one of his own. He was only a pup.
“Why do you have a child in your truck?” Royce marched forward and held his arms out to the lad. He leapt from the enclosure into Royce’s embrace, a whimper sounding out as he buried his muzzle in Royce’s armpit. Royce stroked his matted fur, the sticky sweet scent of his blood filling the air. The urge to protect what was his rolled over him in waves, the moon skimming his beast dangerously close to the surface.
Clare’s child. Hurt. He closed his eyes and tried to center himself.
“He’s injured. What happened?”
“He’s alive. I had no choice but to conceal him. It was shot and I had to get it out of the way before Darius saw him and reported back. The pup, I’m not sure. Probably got mixed up in the middle.”
“It is a he.” Royce growled.
“She. The mother. It… he must have hurt himself trying to get away from whoever held him the first time.” The man winced. “I’m sorry.”
“They are part of my pack,” Royce bit out.
“I came here. Heard you were helping injured shifters. Now I know why.”
“Hexen?”
The man nodded. “They chased the mother and pup but must have lost them. We got a report of a stray in the alley behind the school. Joanie… the young woman who was bit, was trying to save them. I… didn’t connect the two. If I had I would have gone out on my own.” He swallowed and looked away. “I should have done more. Your kind and mine don’t mix. But, I don’t condone killing innocent women and children. Not now. Not ever.”
“So you admit to murdering my people.” Royce’s fangs elongated and he had to fight to keep from tearing out the man’s throat. David trembled in his arms, bringing him back to reality.
The witch considered him. “I didn’t start out hating you. Not until one of your kind murdered my mother and sister. He tore them to shreds and left their bodies for me to find. A warning.”
A pang of sorrow lit through Royce at the knowledge. His pack had known far too many losses from the battle between them.
“I’m sorry.” He bit the words out, surprised he meant them. There was too much hate and he was tired.
“I have to go.”
“Wait.”
The man shook his head. “I can't be seen here. But Joanie… keep her safe. If Hexen finds her… I don't know what Darius told Mason or anyone else in the organization. Get them out of here.”
“There are more coming?”
The witch’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Hexen took advantage of my rage.” He stepped toward the truck. “It's not over. Far from it. The movement is growing all over the country. It’s still pretty isolated here but Mason… Keep them safe.”
Royce nodded. “I will.” He glanced back toward Nina. She waved him toward the doors, a frantic expression on her face.
He turned back toward the truck to say thank you but the vehicle had already pulled out of the parking spot and into the long, winding, tree lined street to the main highway.
David fidgeted in his arms and Royce rubbed his back.
“Come on, kiddo. Let’s go find your mom.” Royce walked back inside, a plan forming in his mind. He had to get his people out of there tonight and like it or not, this Joanie had just become a member of the Cypress Pack.
Chapter Five
The beeping sound of the machines brought her back to consciousness. Joanie shifted, annoyed at the scratchiness of the sheets and batted at an errant strand of hair that had fallen in her face. Her body hurt. The scent of bleach assaulted her nose and the pain in her foot still throbbed, a steady prickly feeling that seemed to lurk just beneath her skin.
Something was off. She felt around for Schubert’s familiar warmth and found him missing. Her body slick with sweat, she groaned as her head swam from the slight movement.
She’d heard voices earlier. It made it hard to sleep when they kept coming in and out of the room. The prick of a needle in her arm, the pressure from hands moving her into a bed. It was all a blur.
Wait.
Beeping.
Scratchy sheets and that weird chemical smell…
Joanie’s eyes popped open and grew wider. Everything was a blah shade of faded white and dingy beige that might have been something not the color of used putty once upon a time. Maybe. The only color in the room was the powder blue curtain that hung from the track in the ceiling between her bed and the one next door.
Someone was there and by the sound of it, they were sleeping. The snores got louder and tapered off, only to resume once more. Shifting beneath the sheets she grimaced at the discomfort thrumming through her body.
A nurse bustled in and, upon seeing her awake, smiled.
“Good. You’re up.” Her badge read “Nina Barticolva” and she reminded Joanie of one of the Gibson girls the way her cheeks turned round when she smiled.
Joanie tried to sit but the IV in her arm yanked her back into a supine position. “Ouch.” The sudden movement made her tired, her head still woozy from whatever happened to bring her here.
Why couldn’t she remember?
She was out on a rescue mission with Tim… then it all faded to nothing and, when she tried to bring it back, her head hurt.
“Woo,” Nina winced. “I wouldn’t do that just yet. We’re about to move you, but the doctor wants to have a look at you first.”
“Um. Okay.” Her head swam.
“I want to get your vitals.” The nurse put the stethoscope into her ears and placed the cold end of it on Joanie’s chest. Giving her a nod, she removed the device and looped it around her neck. Pulling a small device from her pocket, she clipped it on Joanie’s finger. It squeezed over the end of the digit and Joanie watched the small screen as numbers raced across it.
“What’s that?”
“I need your body temperature,” Nina replied with a smile.
“Oh.” Joanie’s head was pounding and her skin felt hot all over. “Why are you moving me…” she started to ask, but the words faded away as she caught sight of the doctor.
A man in green scrubs came through the door, his presence taking the air from the room. Joanie gasped, his piercing eyes meeting hers. The prickling feeling plaguing her ramped up, leaving her hyper aware of the male as he approached.
Her nose itched and she sneezed, a funny itching sensation covering her skin.
His chiseled features were strong and his dark eyes held oceans of blue, like a tempest in a storm. A strand or two of his dark hair fell down over his forehead and he absently ran his fingers through it to put it to rights. His muscular frame flexed beneath the scrubs and for a moment she wondered if he would mind if she reached out and touched him.
“You must be Joanie. Hi. I’m Dr. Buchanan.” His full lips turned up in a smile.
A burst of heat slammed into her gut and she moaned aloud. An internal image of a female wolf reared her head, taking notice of the doctor in a big way. She was separate from Joanie, but connected to her at the same time, their desires co-mingling.
Mortified, she clapped her free hand to her mouth and lowered her head.
Want.
What the hell was that?
“How are you feeling today?” As if he hadn’t heard, Dr. Buchanan reached out and picked up her free hand, turning it over. He placed his fingers against the inside of her wrist and felt for a pulse.
“Fine.” Her voice was breathless and a posse of butterflies had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach. The heat from his fingers sank into her skin and she sighed as he released her hand, the place where he touched tingling.
Except she wasn’t. Not really. Why else would she be thinking about jerking him toward her by the stethoscope and seeing if his lips tasted as good as they looked.
Maybe she hit her head and that’s why she couldn’t remember what happened to bring her here.
“Are the others ready?”
>
“Yes. I loaded them into the back of your SUV myself. The engine’s running. Milo’s watching them right now but you need to hurry.” Nina pulled a wheelchair away from the wall.
The doctor thanked her with a nod, his eyes locked on Joanie. “It's not safe.”
“Did you talk with Administration? Do they know you're leaving ahead of schedule?” Nina slung a small bag of what appeared to be medical supplies along the back of the wheelchair.
Dr. Buchanan nodded absently as he unraveled his stethoscope and bent down to listen to Joanie’s chest. “Sooner rather than later, I think.”
Nina appeared relieved. “Do you need anything else?”
Dr. Buchanan met her gaze.
“I’m concerned Clare won’t be stable enough to make the trip. David’s fine, but his mother… I have to get them home. They need pack around them now and, by the looks of this one, so will she.” The doctor straightened, his eyes focusing in on Joanie. “You’re looking much better than when you arrived. But we need to get you and the woman who bit you someplace safe.”
“What?”
Safe? Weren’t hospitals safe? Unless she caught something here? But why move her? It didn’t make sense.
“Is that what’s wrong with me? Did I get a staph infection?” Her skin felt so damned hot.
A rumbling laugh that morphed into a cough slipped from Dr. Buchanan’s mouth. “No, but this isn’t the safest place for you right now. For yourself and others it is imperative that I get you to a secure environment where you can adapt to your new circumstances without harm.”
“Oh. You mean like physical therapy?”
But why in the world would she need that if she’d just bumped her head? He said something about another woman. Had they been in an accident?
“Yes,” he replied not looking into her eyes. “Something like that.” A flush had crept over his face and she longed to touch him.
Joanie wriggled her nose and leaned into him, his scent alluring. He smelled of pine trees and the outdoors and for a moment, she lost herself in the images that slid through her mind.
A large house in the middle of nowhere. Family. Friends. Community.
