Crying for the Moon (13 page)

“Hey, Peter,” Tate said easily, as thought there was nothing odd about the whole situation. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Like something tried to eviscerate me last night,” Peter said with a snap, his eyes glazed slightly with fever and pain. His legs moved restlessly under the sheet. Alex felt a little spurt of sympathy. Being a vampire had its own drawbacks, but at least he never woke up naked in an unexpected location with his clothes nowhere in sight.

“Lucky for you, I brought the good drugs, then.” Tate took Peter’s bad temper in stride, seating himself on the edge of the bed and pulling what he needed out of the carryall.

He took an ear thermometer out of the bag first, placing it in Peter’s right ear, while Peter made faces and tried feebly to pull the sheet up over his chest. He was relatively hairless, his tan ending in pronounced lines around his neck and his unexpectedly nice biceps. Alex recalled Nick’s description of Peter being out on an archaeological dig, and the tan lines made more sense. Peter seemed embarrassed by Tate’s examination, and Alex couldn’t tell if it was because Tate was a veterinarian or because Tate had seen Peter in wolf form.

“I had to buy a special thermometer just to use on you this morning,” Tate said with a smile. “I’m not sure, but I think I could lose my license for practicing on a human.”

“I’m not human,” Peter said irritably. “Not anymore.”

Alex noted the pained expression on Nick’s face. It was there and gone in a flash, but he felt a sudden surge of sympathy for Nick, especially in light of what Nick had told him that morning.

“Then we’re cool.” Tate read the thermometer and wrinkled his nose. “Let’s check the other side for good measure.”

“Well?” Nick said when the thermometer had dinged a second time. He wasn’t hiding his anxiety very well.

Tate gave him a reassuring smile. “A little fever; nothing dramatic. Or unusual, for that matter. I want to treat these open wounds and then start Peter on a combination of medications for infection and pain. But I need to know some things first.”

“Anything,” Nick said, and Alex could see that he meant it. Peter could, too, and his look of irritation and pain softened.

“Well,” Tate said, eyeing Nick speculatively over one shoulder. “I know you guys don’t suffer from the normal viruses we see in canines. Do you heal at a different rate than that of a human or wolf? Are there any medications you shouldn’t take? What are your vulnerabilities? I’m not asking from a torches-and-pitchforks standpoint,” he hastened to add. “I just need to know what to expect in terms of healing and weaknesses.”

Nick blew out his breath in a sigh. “Well, when we’re in wolf form, we’re hard to kill. Usually it takes another supernatural being, like a vampire or a were, to really hurt us when we’ve changed.”

Tate nodded as if this was all old hat to him. He suddenly pulled up short and blinked.

“Wait a minute,” he said, biting his lower lip and looking very concerned. “
Another
supernatural being? How many kinds of supernatural beings, besides werewolves and vampires, are we talking about?”

Nick started to speak, hesitated, and then shrugged. “I guess those would really be it. I mean, they’d be the most common, you know?”

“Don’t forget about Harpies,” Peter reminded Nick.

Nick made a little dismissive snort. “We’re talking about what is most likely around here, Peter.”

“Well, excuse me.” Peter was clearly losing patience fast. “I thought we were answering the question.”

Tate closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, Alex could see signs of uneasiness for the first time.

“Just tell me there are no such things as zombies.” He turned to Peter. “You weren’t attacked by a zombie, were you?”

“I’ve always said people wanted me for my brains,” Peter said, a small smirk twitching at his lips.

“Not funny,” Tate said sharply, with a little shudder. “Zombies scare the piss out of me.”

“But vampires and werefolk you’re okay with,” Nick drawled. The look he shot at Alex was highly amused.

“Well, yeah,” Tate said, as though it should be patently obvious.

Nick snorted softly before continuing. “We do heal faster in the were state than not, so if Peter had to be hurt, this was the best time for it.”

“Like I had a choice in the matter,” Peter said grumpily. Alex could feel the heat of fever and inflammation radiating off him and knew he had to feel miserable right now.

“When we’re in our human form, though, we are pretty much susceptible to anything that could kill a human.” Nick went on as though Peter had not spoken. “Well, except that we have better reflexes, so we tend not to get hurt in the first place. And better immune systems.”

“Yeah.” This time the look that Peter shot Nick was clearly affectionate. Alex wondered how it was that he’d never noticed it before. “I haven’t had a single cold since I became a were.”

“Interesting,” Tate murmured as he processed what he was hearing. “What about the whole ‘silver bullet’ thing?” He made the appropriate finger quotes.

“Have you ever tried to fire a silver bullet?” Peter made a dismissive noise. “The metal’s too soft to be accurate. That whole Lone Ranger thing is a washout.”

“Stop destroying my childhood beliefs,” Tate said mildly. “So, I’m guessing ‘no’ to the silver bullet. What about all the other things we hear about? Wolfsbane. Garlic. Or the stuff about vampires. How they can’t enter your house unless you grant them permission or how they can’t let sunlight touch their skin?”

“Well,” Nick’s drawl seemed even more exaggerated than usual. Alex noted his blankly innocent expression as well. “I can’t answer for vampires, but a lot of the stuff you hear about werefolk is just made-up crap. People want to believe there’s some way to protect themselves from us. You know, follow the rules and you won’t get hurt?”

“There is some speculation that the mythology of lycanthropy and vampirism stemmed from attempts on the part of some communities to deal with the concept of a serial killer.” Peter sounded very much like the professor that he was, and Alex had a sudden, clear mental image of him lecturing to a class of college freshmen. He could see him, hands waving excitedly as he spoke, driving home his points on an overhead view screen.

“Yum,” Nick said. His hazel eyes contained a dangerous glitter. “Serial killers. My favorite.” When all eyes in the room turned to him, Nick added with a little lick of his lips, “Tasty.”

Peter chuckled, and then winced when the action hurt. Tate turned his attention toward Peter again. Frowning, he asked, “Did you see what attacked you?”

A little worried furrow appeared between Peter’s eyes. “No, I didn’t,” he admitted. “Whatever it was, though, it was fucking enormous.”

“I’m going to talk to Duncan about that,” Nick said. “He’s been a were longer than the rest of us. He might know more about natural predators than I do. Truth is, there’s not much out there these days that can take on a were during a full moon, but that doesn’t mean nothing can.”

Tate nodded and began pulling a series of pill vials out of the carryall, arranging them on Alex’s bedside table. “These are antibiotics.” He waved the bottle at Peter as he set it down, the pills within rattling slightly. “These,” he added, giving the next bottle a little shake, “are pain meds. I’m erring on the side of caution here and sticking to aspirin as an anti-inflammatory. That’s the only thing I know for sure you can take in both forms without wiping out your liver or kidneys. However, we’ll top that off with a little tramadol for pain. This is a probiotic, so the meds don’t upset your stomach too badly.” He placed a bottle of water on the table as well. “You should take these with some food.”

“I didn’t get to eat much last night,” Peter said, in a voice full of woe.

Nick lifted his head and sniffed the air. “I believe Tish and Duncan will have breakfast ready soon,” he said. “I’ll bring you a plate.”

Tate wasn’t done. “This is a dilute disinfecting solution.” He pulled out a bottle filled with a pale blue liquid and some gauze pads. “We need to head into the bathroom and get those wounds cleaned up; then I’d like to bandage them for the day. We’ll need to remove it just before moonrise.” He spoke to Nick. “I don’t trust Peter not to chew the bandages off after dark.” He grinned. “I don’t think I have a big-enough E-collar for him.”

Alex envisioned Peter wearing one of those big, plastic cones around his head and chuckled.

“Still in the room here,” Peter said grumpily.

Duncan appeared at the door. “Food’s ready.”

“Okay. Let’s eat now and we’ll treat your wounds afterward. I need to pull that IV catheter at some point, but I want to make sure we won’t still need that first,” Tate said to Peter, giving him a small pat on the leg as he stood up. “Lead on, Duncan,” he said, smiling as he followed Duncan out of the room.

“I’ll be back with a plate,” Nick said to Peter. He fell into step with Alex as he headed downstairs.

“Tate’s got the hots for you.” Nick’s voice was husky and warm in his ear.

Alex stopped on the stairs so abruptly that Nick almost ran into him. “What makes you say that?” he asked sharply.

“You bats have no sense of smell.” Nick grinned. “He reeks of sex when he’s around you. The real question is what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said.

A look of sympathy appeared briefly on Nick’s features, and he touched Alex lightly on the shoulder. “Come on; let’s eat.”

The irony of his suggestion haunted Alex as he followed Nick down the stairs.

A
FTER
they’d eaten and everyone had helped clean up in the kitchen, Tate sent Nick back upstairs to dress Peter’s wounds.

“He’s going to balk at my doing it,” Tate said practically. “Take him into the bathroom and clean up the open wounds. Don’t get his stitches wet. When you’re done, I’ll put some antibiotic ointment on them and then bandage him up for the day.”

He turned to Alex. “In the meantime, let’s you and I look at sleeping arrangements. I have some ideas.” He led the way up the stairs, confident that the two of them would follow.

“Nice ass,” Nick murmured as they watched Tate mount the stairs.

Alex smacked him with the back of his hand.

“I heard you,” Tate said in a singsong tone, as he continued up the staircase.

Snickering, Nick followed in his wake. He shot a gleeful glance at Alex over his shoulder, looking remarkably like a schoolboy as he did so, hair flopping down over his eyebrows.

“You need a haircut,” Alex said as he came up the stairs behind Nick. For some reason, this only made Nick snicker more.

Peter, predictably, was reluctant to undergo the wound treatment. Tate was right; he would only allow Nick to take him into the bathroom for cleaning. Tate retreated diplomatically from the room, taking Alex firmly by the arm and dragging him along behind.

Out in the hallway, he paused. “Nick’s going to be bringing Peter out in a second. Why don’t you show me the rest of the upstairs?” He headed toward the locked door, his hand reaching for the knob.

“That room’s off limits,” Alex said.

Tate stopped, his hand hovering over the handle, his gaze speculatively on the key in the lock. He lowered his hand to his side and smiled winningly at Alex. “Bluebeard’s chamber?”

“Something like that,” Alex agreed, surprised at how much he resented the existence of the coffin right now.

Tate nodded, all teasing vanished. “So, what’s in this room?” He indicated the other closed door in the hallway.

Alex made a face as he opened the door and revealed the chaos within. “It’s sort of my junk room at the moment.” A thin layer of sawdust covered the floor. The sander lay on its side beneath a set of sawhorses. A paint-spattered drop cloth lay piled against one wall, as well as several cans of paint and semi-washed-out rollers. His tool kit was open, the contents scattered haphazardly around it from the last time he’d used it.

Tate stepped inside the room, surveying it as he stood in the center. “It wouldn’t take too much to clear it out,” he suggested. “Look. I have a spare mattress set up at my place that I’ve been dying for someone to take off my hands. We could take the Mystery Machine up there to get it and set it up in here. That would at least give you another place for people to sleep without resorting to the floor.”

“That’s too much trouble to go to for just a few days,” Alex said. “It’s not like I have guests staying over on a regular basis.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Tate insisted. “Besides, things change.” His smile was warm and promising before he suddenly got an alert expression on his face. The smile returned, this time looking naughty. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Alex frowned. Usually his hearing was superior to everyone else’s.
Usually you’re not so distracted
, he thought.

Tate took hold of his sleeve and dragged him over to the wall, releasing Alex to place his ear near the pale green surface. “Listen.”

At first, all Alex could think about was how easily Tate touched people. First Nick. Then Peter. Now him. Then he heard running water. Made sense. The bathroom was on that side. Nick and Peter were in there now.

“No.
Ow
!” He heard Peter’s protest clearly, followed by the lower, indistinct murmur of Nick’s response. He had no idea the walls were thin enough that Tate could hear through them. Of course, he realized that he seldom had anyone over and had no previous way to test this fact.

“No. I’m serious, Nick. That fucking hurts. I don’t care if all my flesh rots off; you are
not
doing that again. Cut it out!” He heard the sound of a hand swatting a solid body.

“You are such a big baby,” Nick said, his voice almost soothing. “Come on, buddy. Let me help you out here.”

“Just leave me the fuck alone.” Peter sounded more pathetic than pissed.

“It can’t hurt
everywhere
,” Nick said in a reasonable tone of voice.

“Yes, yes, it does,” Peter insisted. “It hurts to just sit here. It hurts to fucking breathe. I’m not going to let you pour that shit on me and poke around in my lacerated flesh.”