2 Blood Trail (23 page)

He nodded and headed for the car. Vicki stopped keeping track of things for a while.

When the ambulance attendants suggested she go to the hospital, she didn’t put up much of a fight, only pulled Dr. Dixon’s phone number from the depths of her bag, asked that he be called immediately, and insisted on Rose and Peter coming with her. The police, who had soon recognized the family resemblance between the twins and one of their own people, overruled the protests of the attendants and helped all three of them into the back of the ambulance.

“We’re not charging you with anything,” the older constable told her, handing up the tow truck driver’s card, “but we will be checking with the mechanics about those brakes. This is the garage he’s taking the car to.”

Vicki nodded carefully and stowed the card in her bag.

As the ambulance pulled away, the tow truck driver looked down at the wreck of the BMW and shook his head. “Good thing they weren’t driving domestic.”

 

“Storm. Storm!”

Storm gave Cloud one last frenzied lick and looked up at Dr. Dixon.

“Go into the kitchen and get me a glass of water, please.” Vicki made a motion to rise out of her chair, but the old man waved her back. “No, I want Storm to go. Run the water good and cold. If there’s ice in the freezer, you’d better use it.”

Nails clicking against the hardwood, Storm left the room. The sound continued down the hall and then stopped. Vicki assumed he’d changed. Cloud, her fur stuck up in damp spikes from Storm’s tongue, shook herself briskly then lay her head down on her front paws and closed her eyes.

Dr. Dixon sighed. “She’s getting too close,” he said softly to Vicki, “and her twin’s beginning to sense it.”

Vicki frowned. “She’s getting too close to what?”

“Her first heat. I imagine he’ll be sent away as soon as this trouble’s over. I only hope it isn’t too late.”

“Too late?” Vicki echoed, remembering Nadine had spoken of Cloud’s first heat on Saturday morning.

“Usually it happens in late September, early October, that way if there’s a pregnancy, the baby, or babies, will be born in early summer, ensuring a good food supply for the last few months of gestation and the first few months of life.” He chuckled. “The wer aren’t born with teeth, but they come up damn soon after. Of course, all this meant more when they lived solely by hunting, but the basic biology still rules. Thank God the baby’s changes are tied to the mother’s for the first couple of years.”

Vicki dropped her hand on the old man’s arm. The hospital had cleared her of any damage except a nasty bump but her head hurt and she knew she was missing something. “Dr. Dixon, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Huh?” He turned to look at her and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m old, I forgot you’ve only known the wer for a short time.” His voice took on a lecturing tone, slow and precise. “Cloud is nearing sexual maturity. Her scent is changing. Storm is responding. Didn’t you notice the way he was licking her?”

“I thought that was for comfort, to clean the cuts.”

“It was, partially, but I didn’t like the look of what it was turning into. That’s why I sent him to the kitchen.”

“But he’s her brother,” Vicki protested.

“Which is why the family will be sending him away. It’s hard on twins. You simply can’t keep them together during a first heat; he’d injure himself trying to get to her. When he’s older, he’ll be able to control his response but this first time, this first time for both of them. . . .” Dr. Dixon let his voice trail off and shook his head.

He remained silent as Peter came back into the room.

“I brought you some water, too,” he said, handing Vicki the second glass he carried.

She thanked him. She needed a drink. Water would have to do. She watched carefully as Storm flopped down and rested his muzzle across Cloud’s back, sighed deeply, and appeared to go instantly to sleep. It all looked perfectly innocent to her. She glanced at Dr. Dixon. He didn’t look worried so apparently this was within the parameters of acceptable behavior.

The tableau shattered a moment later when a car door slammed outside and both wer leapt up and raced for the front of the house, barking excitedly.

“Their father,” Dr. Dixon explained. “I called him as we were leaving the hospital. No sense worrying him before that and now he can take you back to the farm.”

“Do they know it’s going to happen?” Vicki asked. “That he’s going to be sent away?”

Dr. Dixon looked momentarily puzzled. “Who? Oh. Cloud and Storm? Rose and Peter?” At her nod, he sighed. “They know intellectually that it’s what happens, but for all they’re wer, they’re still teenagers and they don’t believe it will happen to them.” He shook his head. “Teenagers. You couldn’t pay me enough to go through that again.”

Vicki reached over and clinked her glass against his. “Amen,” she said. “Amen.”

 

Brows lowered, Mike Celluci worked his fingers around the steering wheel. He’d left his sister’s later than he’d planned and felt lucky to get away at all. No one had warned him that their Aunt Maria would be at the “little family barbecue,” probably because they knew he’d refuse to come.

If they’d mentioned Grandma was coming he’d have driven out to get her himself. A trip to Dufferin and St. Clair beat the hell out of an afternoon with Aunt Maria. Although he’d tried, it had been impossible to avoid her for the entire afternoon and eventually he’d had to endure the litany he’d heard from her at every meeting practically since puberty.

This afternoon he’d managed to keep his temper, but only barely. If his grandmother hadn’t stepped in. . . .

“And the last thing I need now is a fucking traffic jam on the four-oh-goddamed-one.” He had his light and siren in the glove compartment. The urge to slap it on the roof and go tearing up the paved shoulder, around the Sunday evening traffic, was intense.

He wanted to be in London before dark, but he wasn’t going to make it. If traffic didn’t open up, he doubted he’d be there before eleven. Time wasn’t a problem, he had three days off, but he wanted to confront Vicki tonight.

He’d called Dave Graham, to let him know where he was heading, and ended up slamming the receiver down when the other man started to laugh.

“Jealous,” he growled, scowling up at the setting sun. It wasn’t funny. Vicki had to be told what kind of person she’d gotten involved with. He’d do the same for any friend.

Suddenly, he grinned. Maybe he should introduce Vicki to Aunt Maria; the old lady’d never know what hit her.

 

“What are you so nervous about?”

Vicki jumped, whirled, and glared up at Henry. “Don’t
do
that!”

“Do wha. . . . Sweet Jesu, Vicki, what happened?” He reached out to touch the purple and green lump on her temple but stopped when she flinched back.

“There was an accident.”

“An accident?” He glanced around, nostrils flared. “Where is everyone?”

“Outside.” Vicki took a deep breath and released it slowly. “We agreed I should be the one to tell you.” Peter had wanted to, but Vicki had overruled him; he’d been through enough for one day.

Henry frowned. There were strange undercurrents in Vicki’s voice he didn’t understand. “Has someone else been shot?”

“No, not that.” She glanced out the window. Although the sun had set, the sky was still a deep sapphire blue. “The wer have been staying out of those fields, patrolling around the house; it seems to be working for now. No, this involves something else.”

“Something that involves . . .” He flicked his gaze over to the lump and she nodded. “. . . and me.”

“In a manner of speaking. The brakes failed on the BMW today. We—Peter, Rose, and I—were broad-sided by a truck. The car, well, the car was pretty badly damaged.”

“And the three of you? You weren’t badly hurt?”

“If we had been,” Vicki snapped, “I’d have more to worry about than totaling your car.” She winced. “Sorry. It’s been a day.”

Henry smiled. “Another one.” He cupped her chin lightly with his right hand and looked up into her eyes. “No concussion?”

“No. Peter got a bloody nose and Rose has a few cuts from flying bits of glass. We were lucky.” His hazel eyes appeared almost green in the lamplight. She could feel his hand on her skin through every nerve in her body, which was strange because as far as she could remember her chin had never been an erogenous zone before. She moved back and his hand dropped.

“You were
very
lucky,” Henry agreed, pulling out a chair and settling into it. He wasn’t sure if Vicki was responding to his hunger—his own injuries would heal faster if he fed—or if his hunger rose with her response, but for the moment he ignored both possibilities. “I don’t understand about the brakes, though. I had a full service check done in the spring and they were fine. I’ve hardly driven the car since.”

Vicki dropped into a chair beside him. “The garage was closed today, it being Sunday and all, so I’ll talk to the mechanic tomorrow.” She leaned her elbows on the table and peered into his face. “You’re being very understanding about this. If someone trashed
my
BMW, I’d be furious.”

“Four hundred and fifty years gives you a different perspective on possessions,” he explained. “You learn not to grow too attached to
things.
”

“Or people?” Vicki asked quietly.

His smile twisted. “No, I’ve never managed to learn that. Although every now and then, I make the attempt.”

Vicki couldn’t imagine watching everyone she cared about grow old and die while she went on without them and she wondered where Henry found the strength. Which set her to wondering. . . .

“How are
you
tonight?” She plucked gently at the sling around his left arm.

“Bruised thigh, bruised head, shoulder’s healing.” It was frustrating more than painful. Especially with her blood so close.

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“Like you’re listening to something.”

To her heartbeat. To the sound of her blood as it pulsed just under the skin. “I’d better go.”

She stood with him.

“No, Vicki.”

Just in time she remembered not to raise her brows. “No, Vicki? Henry, you need to feed, I need to relax. I’m a grown woman and if I think I can spare you another few mouthfuls of my precious bodily fluids, you have no room for argument.”

Henry opened his mouth, closed it again, and surrendered. Healing had used up whatever reserves he had and the hunger was too strong to fight. At least that’s what he told himself as they climbed the stairs.

 

“How dare you! How fucking dare you!” Barry Wu couldn’t remember ever being so furious. “You goddamned fucking son of a bitch, you actually believed I’d do something like that!”

Colin was trying desperately hard to keep his own temper, but he could feel himself responding to Barry’s anger. He’d been pulled out of the car for special duty tonight, and this was the first chance they’d had to talk. “If you’d listen—I said I didn’t believe you did it!”

Barry slammed his palm down on the hood of Colin’s truck. “But you didn’t believe I didn’t! It took a fucking Toronto PI to convince you!”

“You’ve got to admit the evidence. . . .”

“I don’t have to admit shit!” He stomped off half a dozen paces, whirled around, and stomped back. “And another thing, where the fuck do you get off searching my place?”

“What? I was supposed to just sit on my ass and wait for the guy to strike again?”

“You could’ve fucking told me!”

“I
couldn’t
fucking tell you!”

“Hey!”

Neither of them had heard the car pull up. They spun simultaneously, shoulder to shoulder, dropped into a defensive position, and went for their guns.

Which neither of them are wearing
. Celluci lifted a sardonic eyebrow.
How lucky for all three of us
. “You two might want to find another place to have your disagreement. Police officers screaming profanities at each other in the station parking lot looks bad to civilians.” If he remembered correctly, a sergeant had once said the same to him and Vicki.

Neither Barry nor Colin wasted a moment wondering how the stranger had known they were police officers even out of uniform. They were young. They hadn’t been on the force very long. They weren’t stupid.

“No, sir!” they replied in unison, almost but not quite coming to attention.

Celluci hid a smile. “I’m looking for someone. A woman. Her name is Vicki Nelson. She’s a private investigator from Toronto. She’s working for some people who own a sheep farm north of the city. I figure by now she’ll have contacted the police, for information if nothing else. Can you help?”

Colin stepped toward the car, trying to paste a neutral expression over concern. “Excuse me, sir, but why are you looking for her? Is she in trouble?”

Jackpot first try. She’s probably had this poor kid breaking into police files for her.
“I’m a friend. I have information about the man she’s traveling with.”

“About Henry?” The concern broke through. Information about Henry could mean trouble.

Barry frowned at the tone but moved forward, ready if Colin needed him.

“You
know
him?”

“Uh, yeah, I do.” Barry looked a little surprised at the change in Colin’s voice and more surprised when he continued with, “I’m Colin Heerkens. Henry and Vicki are out at my family’s farm,” and then proceeded to give detailed directions. There was an undercurrent of amusement about Colin’s whole attitude that made Barry very nervous.