by Sammie Joyce
I nodded appreciatively, looking around at the skeleton of the building that had appeared faster than I could blink.
“That’s good news,” I said although I still had no idea why developers were buying in our area of Oregon. There simply wasn’t the population for such real estate and yet every time I turned around, there seemed to be another complex going up.
Of course, what did I know about real estate? And the work kept Matt and his crew busy which generated money into our economy. As long as my area of was relatively untouched, what did I care?
“You okay?” Matt asked, eying me through his peripheral vision as he scanned his clipboard. “You look distracted. Are you sure that nothing’s up?”
I stifled a sigh. I should have known that Matt would pick up on my unease but I wondered if I hadn’t gone there deliberately hoping that he would.
“It’s stupid,” I muttered, knowing that denying my position would be futile. He saw right through me.
“We’re men,” Matt responded with a leer. “Everything we do is stupid. Try me.”
I darted my gaze around to ensure I wasn’t being overheard. What I was about to say was a violation of ethics in more ways than one and while I trusted Matt wholeheartedly, I wasn’t sure about his crew.
“I met a woman,” I muttered in a voice so low, I wasn’t sure he heard me. Matt’s head swiveled toward me with interest.
“Is that right?” he demurred. “Tell me about her.”
“I’m not sure there’s anything to tell—she’s fully human,” I blurted out and interest lit on Matt’s face.
“Is that right?”
There was no judgement in his tone, only genuine intrigue as he studied me.
“And where did you meet said woman?”
I cleared my throat and looked away.
“Well, that’s the other part of it,” I mumbled. Suddenly, I wished I’d thought this through a little better. Now that I was saying the words aloud, I realized how impossible it all was.
“Is she married?” Matt asked, a slight disapproving tinge to his words.
“No! Of course not,” I muttered. “But…”
I inhaled and spoke in a rush of breath before I could change my mind.
“But she came to me as a client.”
Matt blinked, his expression slightly perplexed.
“I-I’m not seeing her again,” I rushed on in my own defense and Matt’s face relaxed slightly.
“How long was she a client?” he asked slowly.
“She wasn’t—I mean, she came in for one session today but there’s nothing wrong with her, not really. I won’t be seeing her again.”
Amusement lit up in Matt’s cerulean blue eyes.
“You only met her today?”
I nodded and dropped my head.
“And she’s got you in a tailspin already?”
“I know,” I muttered. “It’s ridiculous. Especially for a human.”
“Well there’s no transference danger here, seeing as you haven’t even spent an hour with her,” Matt offered slowly. “It’s not like she was depending on you as her therapist and you took advantage.”
I was aghast at the thought.
“No! Nothing like that. I told her she doesn’t need therapy, not really.”
Matt nodded.
“Then what’s the problem? If she’s not a client, I say go for it.”
I snorted at his simplistic approach.
“And the fact that she’s human and the Council has forbidden us from such an act while Anticlaw is running rampant?”
Matt turned to fully face me.
“So you’re not going to pursue this?”
I opened my mouth to respond but nothing came out as I gaped at him.
“It’s a simple enough question,” my friend said lightly, removing his hard hat and wiping at his forehead, just below his sandy-blond hair.
“I just told you all the reasons I can’t,” I sputtered.
“You gave me a bunch of excuses,” Matt agreed. “But considering that you’re standing here, pouring your heart out, I think you want something else.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I insisted, suddenly wondering why I was arguing with Matt. He was the one trying to sway me to pick up the phone and call Vivian.
Did I come here expecting him to convince me otherwise?
I was confused now.
“Because of what the Council expects of you?” Matt concluded.
“Of course,” I replied, a firmness filling my words.
“What about what you want?” he asked, replacing his hardhat and waving to his crew as they wrapped up the workday.
“I-I’m a Protector,” I muttered.
“I know that.”
“I-I want what the Council wants,” I said but there was not a lot of confidence in my voice. “It’s my duty to uphold their demands.”
“Sounds like a hostage situation,” Matt mused lightly as the workers began to descend from their scaffolding to gather their tools.
“It’s my job,” I reminded Matt and he snorted.
“Well then, I guess you have your answer.”
I stared at him, wondering how he had managed to twist my thoughts even more.
“You’re a terrible devil’s advocate,” I mumbled and Matt laughed.
“I’m a starving devil’s advocate,” Matt replied. “How about you buy me dinner and I’ll convince you that maybe your life doesn’t begin and end with the Council, Protectors and packs.”
His words send a shiver of apprehension through me.
Except he’s wrong and it does. My priority is and has always been the shifters.
I gave him a wry smile and nodded.
“I’ll buy you dinner but the subject is closed.”
“Is it really?” Matt asked slyly and I nodded with certainty. I had sworn an oath to the Council. I had to uphold and protect the shifters first and foremost. Whatever connection I felt to Vivian Hunt would fizzle out sooner or later but the shifters, well, they were forever.
And you’ll do well to remember that before you end up in more trouble than you can handle.
4
Vivian
The next few days passed with little incident. I returned to work, Marcel having kept his word by clearing me and Dr. Chamberlain did his best to avoid me as much as I did him. That didn’t stop him from putting me on the night shift for the first two weeks I was reinstated—not that I minded so much. I liked the nights, even if they were fraught with an almost eerie tension. I didn’t deal with anymore shifter attacks but I knew we hadn’t seen the end of them.
“Glad to have you back,” Rachel Drake said lightly when she appeared on my second shift. I laughed, shaking my head at the young nursing student. She was still getting her clinical hours and got stuck working the worst possible times.
“Did you even have time to miss me?” I replied lightly, smiling at the hazel-eyed girl. She reminded me of a pixie in some ways with her freckled skin and thick auburn hair.
“I notice when you’re not around,” Rachel replied lightly. “I think everyone does.”
The words had an unexpectedly warm effect on me and I returned her grin, happy that she was working that night. She was a breath of fresh air next to the seasoned nurses who rarely had a sincere grin between them. Not that I could blame my co-workers; we had a tough job and it was hard not to become cynical over time.
Still, I welcomed Rachel’s presence.
“We’re short tonight,” I commented, scanning the nurses station. “But it’s slow. You’ll have plenty of time to study.”
“I don’t know,” Rachel murmured, her bright eyes darkening. “I’ve had a weird feeling these past couple of days.”
I didn’t admit that I’d been holding onto the same feeling but had dismissed it as the anxiety that Marcel had commented on in our session. I’d been doing the breathing exercises he taught me, even when I wasn’t feeling particularly tense and I already noticed a big improv
ement in myself. I’d even started looking into yoga classes.
There’s nothing wrong with me that can’t be handled, I thought confidently. But now that Rachel was voicing her own concerns, I suddenly wondered if I was ignoring a gut instinct.
“Nurse’s intuition,” I offered, maintaining the smile on my face. “You’re extra-vigilant because you’re constantly waiting for disaster to strike.”
“Maybe,” Rachel agreed but she didn’t look convinced. She opened her mouth to say something else but seemed to think better of it, turning her eyes back toward her schoolbooks.
“What?” I demanded. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know what she was thinking but I also wasn’t sure I wanted to be left alone to my own thoughts in silence.
“Nothing,” she said quickly, plastering a smile that I’m sure she didn’t feel onto her impish face. “I was just thinking about all those weirdoes running around.”
My brow furrowed slightly, not understanding to whom she was referring—at first.
“Drunk drivers?” I asked, confused. A flash of impatience fell on her face and I immediately tensed.
“Those guys, running around attacking people at random,” Rachel said flatly. “Surely you’ve heard about them.”
“Anticlaw,” I muttered without thinking. Rachel’s eyes widened.
“You know them!” she exclaimed and I shook my head quickly.
“No, no,” I replied hastily. “I mean, I’ve heard the rumors but…”
I trailed off and looked toward the doors of the emergency room, willing them to open. I silently prayed for a gunshot victim to enter, if only to get me out of the conversation I’d brought upon myself.
“Who the hell do those morons think they are?” Rachel muttered. “They’re going to kill someone one of these days.”
“They’re protecting us,” I said defensively and I didn’t need to look at Rachel to see her eyes bulge out of her head.
“From what?” she scoffed loudly. “Werewolves?”
I eyed her warily.
“You’ve lived around here long enough to know that there are anomalies,” I said quietly. “Things that can’t be explained.”
“And that gives a bunch of trigger-happy idiots the right to play judge, jury and executioner?” Rachel barked back. I could see she was just as passionate about the subject as I was—but on the opposite end of the spectrum. Our chat was becoming quickly heated and I knew I had to put the brakes on it.
“Let’s just agree to disagree on this,” I said softly, rising from my chair. “I have to do bed checks.”
I hurried away before Rachel could say anything else but I could feel her staring after me, dumbfounded as I moved.
How could I explain to her that I was personally invested in Anticlaw?
* * *
It was almost seven a.m. when I arrived at Charlie’s house. His pickup was still in the driveway, indicating that he hadn’t left for his job at the lumber mill but I knew he would be heading out soon.
I jumped from my Civic and hurried to the front door, letting myself in without knocking.
I should have known better but the exhaustion of my shift had caught up with me and I wanted to be in and out before Charlie got too wound up.
As I turned the corner to the kitchen, I stared down the barrel of a shotgun. Gasping, I stepped back, my hands up.
“Jesus, Charlie!” I yelped, my face paling as I gaped at my brother. “It’s just me!”
He grimaced at me, his dark eyes flashing as he lowered the weapon.
“Maybe try knocking next time, for Christ’s sake,” Charlie snapped, whipping his burly body around to amble toward the coffee maker. He was dressed in a pair of army fatigues and a fresh white undershirt barely covering his muscles. He’d shaved down his head to a buzz cut since I’d last seen him, keeping his dark tresses spiky to his angular face. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought he was reporting for active duty that morning, but I did know better. The marines wanted nothing to do with him, not anymore.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, not wanting to start a fight I couldn’t win with him. “The door was unlocked.”
“This is Bend, Viv, not New York City. No one locks their doors because they will shoot you in the face if you enter without knocking.”
Not everyone, I thought grimly. Just you.
“Sorry,” I said again, unsure of what else to say.
“What are you doing here? I’m leaving in ten for work.”
“I know,” I replied quickly. “I-I just came to see how you’re doing.”
He snorted and yanked the coffee pot out of the maker, the percolator still working to spill hot liquid against the burner.
“Ever hear of a phone?” he asked sarcastically, slopping the coffee into a chipped mug. I saw the ripple of his semper fi tattoo as he took a long sip without offering me a cup.
“I know,” I offered quickly. “But I was just on my way home and I thought I’d pop it.”
His caliginous eyes seemed made of onyx as he studied me suspiciously, the disbelief almost palpable.
“Really?” he asked dubiously. “You just thought you’d pop in?”
His voice was dripping with caustic sarcasm and I forced myself to smile.
“Can’t a sister do that?” I asked lightly, folding my arms over my chest and leaning across the threshold.
“You’re so full of shit, Viv. What do you want?”
I gritted my teeth, knowing that I wasn’t going to get anywhere with honey.
“You guys are causing a massive stink around here,” I replied flatly, dropping all the pleasantries. “What is your end game?”
For a moment, I felt like he hadn’t heard me, his eyes strangely blank.
“My end game?” he finally echoed and I nodded. “My end game is to rid the earth of all those shifter animals so that people can go to the movies without being attacked. My end game is to take our home back, once and for all!”
I sighed, knowing that I agreed with Charlie but suddenly, with all the focus on Anticlaw, I couldn’t help but worry about him.
You worry about Charlie too much. He’s a grown man and he knows what he’s doing, that little sensible voice snapped at me.
He was five years older, after all. I shouldn’t have had to think about what he was doing but after being dishonorably discharged from the Marines, I couldn’t help but feel protective of him.
“Viv, seriously, what is this about?” Charlie grumbled. “I really have to get to work.”
“I just need you to be careful,” I told him earnestly. “Your group is getting a lot of attention and the shifters seem to be retaliating as a result.”
“Those bastards left a trail of dead bodies not long ago. I don’t see you going to warn them about us!” Charlie yelled, slamming his mug down onto the table. I flinched and averted my eyes. His aggression was frightening and even if I knew inherently that he wouldn’t hurt me, I had no doubt that my brother had the mind of a killer.
“I wouldn’t know where to find these creatures,” I replied quietly. “And if I did, I would stay the hell away, Charlie.”
He grunted.
“You know what you need?” Charlie growled after a minute of silence.
“What’s that?”
“A boyfriend. How long has it been since you’ve had a man to take care of, Viv?”
I cringed at the misogynistic wording but I knew what he was getting at. If I had a man to think about, I wouldn’t be spending my energy worrying about Charlie.
Instantly, I thought of Marcel.
“Oh! Are you seeing someone?” Charlie asked leeringly. He must have seen the expression on my face. I really was a terrible liar.
He’s just trying to change the subject, I realized but I didn’t mind. I was just about done there. I had no idea why I’d bothered to come in the first place.
“No, I’m not,” I replied, shoving the image of Marcel and his icy blue eyes out of my mind. I’d replayed th
at very picture enough times over the past few days that it was virtually branded into my brain. I unfolded my arms and readjusted my coat. “I should get going.”
Charlie smirked.
“Well, thanks for checking in, Mom. Next time you should come when I’m not on my way out and we’ll go for drinks or something.”
I turned so that he wouldn’t see my face and nodded. The last thing I ever wanted to do was add alcohol to my already volatile sibling. It was not a smart combination under any circumstance.
“Sounds good,” I lied. “See you later.”
I hurried back to my car, noting how the sun hadn’t really come up behind the ominous dark sky.
For a moment, I paused to stare up at the collection of nimbus clouds, feeling the cold on my cheeks. It was going to snow again, I could feel it in the air. It was going to be one of those days where it was best to be hunkered inside under a blanket, drinking coffee and watching Netflix.
But those days are so much better to share with someone else, aren’t they?
Stifling a grunt, I wrenched my eyes back to the car and stuffed myself inside. Charlie had inadvertently put Marcel back into my thoughts and now I was going to spend the rest of the day trying to get him out.
Or maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I would imagine what it would be like to spend a lazy afternoon, snowed in with the gorgeous therapist who had saved me in less than an hour.
He’s your therapist, I reminded myself for the hundredth time as I pulled out of the back roads and headed toward my apartment. But for the first time, I didn’t force Marcel into the recesses of my brain. Even if I couldn’t have him, there was no harm in fantasizing about him, was there?
5
Marcel
It was stupid and I knew it but that didn’t stop me from doing what I did anyway. I thought it through, as carefully as I had anything else and yet my common sense didn’t prevail as it usually did.
Maybe a part of me expected that Vivian wouldn’t be there, or maybe I just wanted to see if she would still have the same effect on me, outside the office and all those days later. Whatever the reason, I found myself in the emergency room just after midnight, my hand bleeding profusely from an accidental cut.
