No Humans Involved (23 page)

Cadaver Dog

FOR THE NEXT HOUR, Jeremy sniffed gardens, trying to find the unmistakable scent of a decaying corpse. Harder than it sounds because most of the beds were raised within retaining walls, so he had to hop up or—in a few cases—take a running leap.

He stayed at the edge of the gardens and leaned in to get closer to the center, ducking around bushes, picking his way past plants. I erased paw prints as we went.

We made it through about half of the garden when I noticed Tansy and Gabrielle watching.

"Is this about those poor trapped children?" Gabrielle asked as I waved them over.

I nodded. "We're hoping to find a body, so we can…" I considered how best to explain it. "Find the people responsible and figure out what they did so I can free the spirits. He—" I waved at Jeremy. "The, uh, dog is specially trained for that sort of thing."

"A cadaver dog."

"Right. But not, you know, officially or anything. Just a friend of a friend knew someone who trained them and let me borrow this one."

"Shouldn't he be on a lead?" Tansy asked.

"This one works better off-leash. He's very well trained."

"Huh. Well, it looks like he may have found something."

I leaned past Tansy to see Jeremy gingerly raking back the dirt with his claws. He took another sniff, caught a noseful of dirt and sneezed. Then he resumed his careful digging.

A smell wafted up, strong enough for me to recognize. The stink of a rotting corpse. Jeremy lowered his muzzle into the hole and flipped something out. Even before I got close, I could see tiny stick-like bones and needlelike teeth. A mole or large mouse.

"Eww," Tansy said. "You'd better grab that, before he eats it."

I swallowed a laugh. "I made sure he was well fed before we started."

Jeremy looked at me, as if figuring out what we were talking about. He rolled the tiny corpse back into the hole, this time with his paw.

When he started covering it, I hurried forward. "I'll get that. You just keep— I mean, go, boy. Work. Sniff."

Jeremy rolled his dark eyes, leapt from the garden and headed toward the next one as I refilled his hole.

"Here comes Pete," Tansy said. "Wonder why he left his post? Uh-oh, he looks worried."

A gray-haired man hurried down the path, his broad face gathered in concern.

"Where is he?" Gabrielle asked.

"Inside the house. Upstairs I think." Tansy looked at me. "Some of us took up posts, keeping an eye out. This looked like something you wouldn't want to be found doing, so we were keeping watch."

"Oh? That's very thoughtful. Thank you."

"Someone's watching from upstairs," the portly man—Pete—said as he drew up beside us. "The English chap. He's been looking out the window."

"Grady? Damn! Jer—uh—boy?" I called softly. "Stay. Okay? Stay."

Jeremy peeked from the garden a few yards down and dipped his muzzle, telling me he understood. I stepped back farther into the shadows and looked up at the house. Grady's curtains were parted, a dim glow silhouetting his figure.

"Thanks for letting me know," I whispered to the ghost.

"I don't think he saw—" He stopped, looking up. "Oh, he's gone. False alarm. I'll head back."

"Wait," I said. "Your name's Pete?"

"Peter Feeney, miss. Used to work a few blocks away. Chauffeur, gardener, butler…" He smiled. "Whatever they needed."

"And what do
you
need? From me, I mean," I blurted. Alarm bells sounded in my head. But I steeled myself and pushed on. "I mean, is there anything I can do for you? I'm pretty limited. I can't find your killer or anything like that."

Peter smiled, showing small, even teeth. "My killer was me, miss. Me and my bad habits. Now, I'd love to bring
them
to justice, the folks who told me all those cigarettes weren't bad for my health, but I know you can't do that." He chewed his lip, the urge to be polite warring with the fear that he'd never get another chance to speak to a necromancer. "There is something, but I know you're really busy…"

"Go ahead."

"It's not urgent, but maybe when you're all done, if you have the time… I'd like to find my son."

"Has he… passed over?"

"Oh, no. At least, I hope not. We had a falling out a few years before I died. Silly thing. They always are, aren't they? But then I passed and when I went to his old apartment to check on him, he'd moved out. I don't want to make contact—just to see him. Finding him is probably as simple as looking through an L.A. phone book or dialing 411 but…" A wry smile. "I can't do that."

"No, of course not. But I will, as soon as I get a chance—"

The whoosh of the screen door sliding open sounded. I froze. Peter motioned for me to stay still and the ghosts fanned out, heading for the back of the house.

"I saw it," Grady hissed, his voice traveling through the still night air.

"A dog," Claudia said.

"Not a dog!" Grady roared before Claudia shushed him. "A demonic beast. A huge black wolf with glowing eyes and fangs as big as your fingers."

Jeremy peeked from a bush, ears swiveled, head tilted, as if to say, "Who, me?"

"It was a dog," Claudia said, her tone wavering between exasperation and frustration. "A large black dog. Yes, his eyes probably seemed to glow—reflected in the moonlight—but it was a dog. You've been under a lot of strain—"

"Bloody hell, woman. Something is going on here, and if you start nattering at me about jet lag and a change in diet—"

"Where's this wolf, Bradford?"

"I don't know. Out there. Somewhere."

"Are you going to take a look?"

"For a wild beast? I'm not mad, woman."

"Do you want me to take a look?"

"Of course not. Just—" A sigh. "Maybe it
was
a dog."

"Um-hmm."

The scrape of shoes on patio stones. Then the whir of the patio door closing. And all went silent.

GRADY'S LIGHT went off minutes later and stayed off. I spoke to Peter some more, getting his son's name and some other info—birthdate, last known job, schools attended—in case finding him required more than just looking it up in the phone book. Then I hurried to catch up on my paw-print-wiping duties.

Over an hour passed. Jeremy found a dead bird and a dead cat— the former probably a casualty of the latter, which must have been a family pet before death turned it into garden fertilizer.

I reburied the animals and followed Jeremy through the last few beds. No bodies.

While he changed back, I stood watch, more careful now than I'd been the first time, aware of our spectral audience. Seeing my "cadaver dog" change into a man would require a more elaborate explanation than I could dream up.

The ghosts seemed to have left, and I'd asked Eve to circle the perimeter, just to be sure. But I was still on edge, so when I heard a mutter near the neighbor's pool house, I slipped through the hedge to find Jeremy crouched on all fours near the outbuilding.

I stammered an apology and spun around.

He let out a soft laugh. "It's all right, Jaime. I'm human. And decent. Well… pretty much." The sound of a zipper. "There."

"Sorry," I said as I turned. "I thought I heard someone talking."

He bent again, as if examining the ground. "That was me. I

picked up my shoe and forgot I'd tucked my watch and pocket change inside." He glanced up from his search. "Still frustrated from my lack of results, it seems."

He brushed his hair from his face, finished gathering his spilled belongings, then stood. He was barefoot, dressed in dark jeans, his dark shirt thrown on, but still untucked and unbuttoned. His hair was tousled from the Change. Sweat-soaked stray strands clung to his face.

I knew from Elena that the Change wasn't some Hollywood-style morphing where not a single hair gets mussed. Jeremy's face was shiny with exertion, spots of color on his cheeks, his eyes gleaming, lips parted as he caught his breath.

My gaze traveled down his open shirt front, along the thin line of dark hair, the lean muscled chest, the flat stomach…

My heart—and other body parts—started doing flip-flops.

He snapped his watch back on and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to brush it into some semblance of order.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm a bit of a mess."

"That's okay."
Really
okay.

He motioned me closer. I tried not to trip over my feet in my rush to get there. He backed farther behind the shelter of the pool house.

"Not much chance of being spotted back here," he said, nodding at the brick wall beside us. "Grady didn't seem like he was going to raise a fuss, did he?"

"No, Claudia convinced him nothing was there."

He started to button his untucked shirt, leaving the top half undone. He plucked at the neck with an apologetic smile. "Hot."

"Uh-huh."

I was two feet away, but I swore I could feel the heat from his body, smell the faint scent of his sweat. And his eyes… They glittered with something that was not quite predatory, but different. Less civilized. Like he'd forgotten to pull that mantle of control completely back into place.

If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd had a few glasses of wine. That's what it looked like—the gleam of slight drunkenness, that lowering of the inhibitions. I looked into his eyes and shivered, body straining against the urge to cover those last two feet—

He did it for me. His arms went around me and he lowered his lips toward mine, but stopped short. I looked into his eyes and saw, not uncertainty, but a teasing smile. I lifted my lips an inch, covering half the distance, then said, "Your move."

His brows arched. He brought his lips so close I could feel his breath, then waited for me to close the gap.

"You like having me give in first, don't you?" I murmured.

A fraction of an inch lower, lips brushing mine as he said, "No, I'm being courteous."

"Bullshit."

A low laugh. I hung there, in his arms, our bodies barely making contact. His hands slid up my back, his touch so light I shivered. A gentle tug as he wrapped his fingers in my hair, then brought them up to the back of my head. His lips moved down, eyes closing, and I shut mine, reaching up for him, waiting for that first contact, expecting a kiss as soft and teasing as his touch.

His mouth crushed against mine so hard my eyes flew open. A low growling chuckle rippled through him. He started pulling back, to soften the kiss, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned it hard enough to make him gasp.

He swung me up, lifting me easily, hands going to the back of my thighs. My legs parted to wrap around him, but my skirt caught. His hands slid down my thighs and pushed my skirt up, his touch firm, fingers splayed, gripping me as they traveled up my thighs to my ass. Then he let out a soft breath of surprise.

I pulled back from the kiss enough to say, "I don't like panty lines."

Another delicious growl of a chuckle as his fingers dug in, pulling me against him. I wiggled until I could feel him hard against my crotch, then tightened my legs around his hips, rubbing against him.

My hands dropped to his sides and squeezed between us, finding the button of his pants, then…

I broke the kiss. He dove to find it, but I brought my hands to the sides of his face, holding him back. His dark eyes wavered there, his face indistinct, my vision still clouded with lust.

"Just a second," I said as I squirmed from his grip and lowered myself to the ground. "I think I'm making this too easy for you."

"Easy?" The word was almost a growl. "Do you know how many times I've thought of this in the past year… and had to see you at council meetings and pretend the idea never even entered my mind?"

A quiver of excitement raced through me. So he hadn't been as oblivious—or immune—as he'd pretended. It was almost enough to make me throw myself into his arms. Almost…

"A year?" I murmured. "That's nothing."

I lowered my lips to the base of his throat and tickled my tongue up to his chin, tasting his sweat.

"If it hasn't been easy, you have only yourself to blame," I said. "I've been here, ready and willing the whole time."

I leaned against him. My fingers skated over his hip, then stroked the back of his thigh, heading between his legs. He growl sent tremors through me and I had to stop for a breath before looking up at him.

"Four years, Jeremy, and I'm thinking…" I looked into his eyes. "Maybe you can wait a little longer. Just to be fair."

I inched back, my hands going to his chest, as if to ward him off, but sliding under his shirt, feeling his heart thumping under my fingers, feeling the beat of his quickened breathing, the sheen of sweat over his lean, muscled chest… all of which didn't make it any easier for me, but I closed my eyes and savored the tease. Then, his shirt parted, I leaned forward, my nipples pressing hard against the silk, brushing them against his chest as I arched up on tiptoes, kissing the bottom of his throat, tongue sliding out to feel his pulse. He shuddered, but didn't move, and I wondered how long he'd stand there, and what I could do to tease him, to tease both of us, to break that legendary control…

I swallowed a moan and stepped back.

"It's late," I murmured. "I should get inside. Are you coming tomorrow?"

A pause. "Well, apparently, that depends on you."

I choked on a laugh and swatted his arm. "I meant to the house. Breakfast is at nine." I looked up at him. "As for the rest… we'll see."

I turned and started to walk away.

"Are you sure?" he called after me. "When I've had time to clear my head, I might change my mind."

"Oh, I think I can change it back."

I could feel his gaze glued to me as I sauntered off around to the front of the house.

UP IN my room, I let out a deep, shuddering sigh. Part of me screamed that I'd gone crazy. I could have had Jeremy in my bed—or in the backyard—tonight. Wasn't that what I wanted? What I dreamed of? I should have seized on the chance before the adrenaline rush of his Change passed and he realized he wasn't ready yet.

But that was exactly why I'd walked away. Because if he wasn't ready, I didn't want him. I wasn't taking the chance that he'd wake in the morning, apologizing and backpedaling furiously. Let him sleep on it and make up his mind. Because that's how I had to win Jeremy—body
and
mind—or I'd never keep him.