Bite Deep (23 page)

Jericho murmured something to Dominic. The old man glanced back at Lydia. ‘No. We must help him here.'

‘You can't be serious.' Her eyes widened. The biker's face was pale and there was too much blood. She crouched down, pulling off her jacket and pressed it tight over his hip. Jericho winced, but kept silent. The wound in his side looked like a through-and-through, but the one in the hip was a solid hit. From the amount of blood, Lydia worried the bullet had nicked something important. She looked at Dominic. ‘If we don't get him to the medical centre, he might bleed out.'

‘You do not understand yet, but you will,' Dominic said gently. ‘Come. Help me get him onto the bed.'

Greta paused in her swearing long enough to help them manoeuvre the heavy biker to the bed, springs creaking in protest. Lydia licked her lips, suddenly very nervous that Jericho was going to die, all because he'd come to … what? Why had he shown up? Jericho's eyes had rolled up in his head, chasing the question from her mind. She slapped his face lightly.

‘Wake up. Come on, Jericho.'

Dominic pulled her away. ‘We must get the bullets out. Now. The silver is poison to him.'

Greta stood in the doorway, arms folded. ‘We should take him back to his own kind. They can take care of this.'

‘Look at him.' Dominic gestured to Jericho. ‘He won't make it.'

‘What do we care?' Greta sniffed. ‘After what his kind is responsible for? My sister would be alive if it weren't for his sort. He deserves nothing.'

‘This isn't the time to open old wounds.' Dominic's words cracked the air and Greta's stern face stilled. Then she sighed and motioned for Lydia to follow her.

‘Come,' she muttered. ‘Help me get ready.'

Lydia followed her to the kitchen. ‘This is madness. Why aren't we taking him to the medical centre?'

Greta clicked the kettle on and began collecting up bowls and towels. She shoved them into Lydia's hands. ‘The bullet is silver. Deadly for Breed. He will die soon.' She made an impatient gesture. ‘I say one less Breed is fine. What do we care?'

Lydia froze. ‘What makes you think he was shot with a silver bullet?'

‘It's the only thing that can hurt Breed so badly.'

Lydia took some deep breaths and counted to ten. Then she asked in a light voice, ‘And what is a Breed?'

Greta didn't answer at first, just watched the steaming kettle, waiting for it to boil.

‘Please,' Lydia finally said. ‘Everyone else seems to know what's going on here and I need to understand.' Her swallowed, then asked again, ‘What is Breed?'

‘I think you know the answer to that, my dear.' Greta finally turned to her, weariness in her face. ‘Werewolf.'

Chapter 23

Jericho felt his mind surface from darkness. He sensed consciousness nearby and swam for it with all his strength. When he managed to orientate himself, he found he was lying on a lumpy mattress in a small, wood-panelled room, a fire crackling in the fireplace opposite.

‘I thought Coulter was crazy.'

Senses scrambling, he turned his head to see Lydia beside the window, sitting in a rocking chair. She turned to him, face in shadow, and he smelled alcohol on her breath.

‘Once we got the bullet out, the bleeding stopped almost instantly.' She shook her head, setting the chair to a soft rock. ‘Seems you'll heal just fine now the silver has been removed. I'm told that werewolves … I mean
Breed
… heal quick. That they could even take a regular lead bullet to the chest and survive. So I'm told.'

Jericho sat back in the bed, exhaustion washing over him. ‘You know about us?'

‘I read something about them in my mother's files. I thought it was some sort of story she was writing.' Her voiced hitched and she stopped for a moment. ‘Dominic told me you two used to play chess in the past. He said he thought you liked the quiet here.'

‘He told you that?' Jericho asked cautiously.

‘He did.'

‘Did he tell you anything else?'

Lydia looked away. ‘He told me enough.'

‘Do you believe him?'

‘After my third shot of schnapps, I started coming around.' She got out of the rocking chair. A shawl sat around her shoulders and she pulled it tighter. Jericho expected to see fear in her face, but she appeared calm. The bed creaked when she sat down at the end, and a silence stretched out. Jericho found himself talking to fill it.

‘Coulter hunts my kind,' Jericho said. ‘He hunts—'

‘Werewolves, right?' Lydia interrupted. ‘I know. Like I said, Dominic and Greta told me what they knew about your … kind.'

‘Breed,' Jericho said softly.

‘Right. Breed.' Her lips tightened, then she said, ‘I wouldn't have believed anyone else. But if someone like Greta Solberg tells me it's the truth, then I'm going to have to believe it. No matter how weird.'

‘Are they alright?' he asked.

‘They're fine.' Her eyes dropped to her hand, fingers playing over the red mark of his bite. ‘Dominic was even better after we'd finished the bottle. They're staying in the main house tonight, since their bed was otherwise occupied—' She paused, then added, ‘—by a biker werewolf.'

‘What time is it?' Jericho sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He had to get back to his crew before they tore the town apart looking for him. The floor was freezing under his feet and he glanced down at himself, noting the two angry red welts on his body. He raised his head to glare at Lydia. ‘Where are my clothes? My phone?'

‘In the kitchen,' she said. ‘It wouldn't stop ringing. I answered it ten minutes ago. Someone did a lot of swearing, then demanded to know where you were. His name was Burke, or something.'

‘Turk?'

‘Could have been. I told him you were here.' She leaned back a little, tilting her chin up. ‘But first, I need you to answer some questions. I need to understand this.'

‘My clothes, Lydia.'

‘You can have them after you've answered my questions.'

He eyed the set of her jaw. ‘If you wanted to see me naked, you only had to ask.'

‘Keep it in your pants, hotshot. We're just talking here.'

He stepped towards her. ‘That's kind of the problem. I don't
have
my pants.'

Lydia hastily shot to her feet, but kept her ground as Jericho approached. He liked seeing anger crackle in her eyes, liked the way she could meet his gaze without blinking. He inhaled, taking her sweet scent deep into his lungs.

‘I have questions,' she said softly.

‘Didn't you ask me all your questions back at the station?' He stepped in closer, but one of Lydia's hands stopped him, her fingers splayed over his chest, her touch scorching his skin.

‘I have other questions,' she said. ‘About your kind. About silver bullets.'

‘Alright, officer. I'll play. But you have to pay a fee.' He reached up to push a lock of red hair off her face. In the light of the flickering fire, he saw her pupils dilate, her breath quicken. His smile widened, but any desire building in him turned to shame when she raised her marked hand.

‘Haven't I already paid a fee?' She nodded at the healing flesh. ‘You bit me. Coulter saw the mark and said I was contaminated.' She held up a black case with her other hand. ‘Then he gave me this and said that it might help fight the virus. What did you do to me?'

Jericho's eyes locked on the case. ‘Can I see that?'

‘No,' she snapped. ‘Not until you tell me what's going on.'

‘You aren't infected,' he said softly.

‘Are you sure?'

He stepped back to the bed and pulled off a sheet, wrapping it around his hips. ‘The virus is usually transmitted through a bite of a fully reverted Breed. I'm sure I wasn't fully turned.'

‘How can you be sure?' Lydia asked.

‘Because you're still breathing,' he said. ‘The virus always manifests itself within forty-eight hours. You're safe.'

‘I see.' Lydia tucked the case into her back pocket. ‘I'm safe, am I?'

‘Once a Breed reverts, they become a beast with an uncontrollable thirst for blood and flesh. Only the strong can pull back and regain their humanity.'

‘And you were strong enough to stop?' Lydia asked. ‘Is that what you're telling me?'

‘Yes, I was. So you're safe.' He met her eyes unflinchingly.

‘If I had been infected, I'd become this Breed?' she asked.

‘Some have the virus through genetics, while others are bitten,' Jericho said, deliberately not answering her question.

Lydia rubbed her eyes. ‘I thought werewolves only changed under a full moon.'

‘Breed,' Jericho corrected her. ‘We're a step up on the evolutionary chain from a werewolf. But only just. Full moons don't apply. Reversion comes about through mental weakness. With enough training, it can be avoided completely. Medication can help bridge that gap for some.'

‘I see.'

‘You do?'

‘Of course not,' she snapped. ‘This whole thing is crazy.'

He gave her a small smile. ‘I get that. But you have to understand, it's not all bad. Breed are resistant to all diseases and have increased stamina and strength.' He paused, then added, ‘Of course, there are others who see it as a curse. An abomination. A violation of the natural order. At least, that's how Breed Hunters see us.'

‘Ahhh. Breed Hunters,' Lydia said. ‘Greta told me all about them. And of course, Coulter was a Hunter. And naturally, my father was one as well, right? Does that make me half werewolf, half Hunter?'

Jericho held her gaze. ‘Trust me, Lydia. Your father being a Hunter doesn't automatically make you one. And if you were infected, something would have happened to you by now.'

‘What kind of something? I'd get hairy and grow fangs?'

‘Nothing you need to worry about.'

‘Maybe I do.'

‘I said, forget it.'

Her mouth worked a few times, as if she was struggling with more protests. Finally she threw her hands in the air. ‘This is all insane, you know.'

‘To you,' he said. ‘To me, it's just everyday life.'

‘And the Diablo Dogs MC? Are they all Breed?'

Jericho gave her a flat look. ‘What do you think?'

She walked to the fire, rubbing her arms as if chilled. ‘I thought the MC was an extension of a survivalist group, with a settlement of some sort just beyond the bar. Is that true?'

‘In a manner of speaking. It's a sanctuary of sorts. Sometimes, my kind need to retreat and get a hold on the virus, so we're not a danger to society.'

‘Alright. I think that's all I can handle with this much schnapps in my bloodstream.' She gave him a speculative look. ‘Do you know who killed Anna?'

‘I already answered that question,' he said, disappointed she hadn't believed him the first time he'd answered that question.

She turned back to stare into the fire. ‘She was shot with a silver bullet. She was Breed, then?'

‘Yes. All residents at Crystal Waters are.'

‘And Coulter shot you with a silver bullet. Could he be the murderer?'

‘We've been tracking Coulter since he arrived,' Jericho answered. ‘He arrived in Camden after the murder. He's not the killer.'

‘Do you think there could be another one of these Hunters in town?'

‘We're looking at that possibility,' Jericho said, impressed with how she was adapting and aligning the facts, echoing his own crew's theory back to him. It showed she knew how to adapt, think beyond the borders of her training.

‘And of course, Coulter would know who this Hunter is, right?'

He nodded. ‘That fact hadn't escaped me.'

‘Glad to hear it.' She tore her eyes from the fire to glare at him. ‘I'm going to get an arrest warrant for him first thing tomorrow morning. Then I'll grill him on what he knows, get him to give me a name.'

‘You can't do that,' Jericho said. ‘This is a Breed matter. Let me deal with him, Lydia.'

He watched her as she stared into the fire for a few moments, and it was only when his chest burned that he realised he was holding his breath. He let it out slow. He had no idea what he would do if Lydia insisted on arresting Coulter, something that could not happen. This was a matter for Breed law.

‘Fine.' She folded her arms. ‘I want you to show me something.'

‘What do you want to see?' He asked, voice quiet.

‘Anything that's going to convince me this isn't some big joke.'

He hesitated. He felt certain she would keep their secret—after all, nothing had sent her screaming for the woods yet. A sense of desperation overtook him. Surely he didn't have time for this. Didn't have time for her. And to expose himself to her would be to risk her fear, her revulsion. He felt her eyes on him as he wrestled with her request, the need for proof plain on her face. He knew he had to show her. If only so she would understand what was at stake here. With Hunters in Camden, things were going to get bloody.

He walked to her, one hand holding the sheet around him. He wanted to be close, so she could see clearly. Lydia watched him approach, not retreating, just a look of expectation in her eyes. Jericho stopped when he was close enough to feel her breath on his chest, then let a small measure of his alpha flow into through him. Just a fraction. His eyes burned as they changed, his fingernails elongated and tore. The pain was excruciating. It was worse to halt the transformation there. The beast roared in frustration, struggling to be freed. It scented freedom and wanted more. It smelled Lydia and it wanted to claim her. But the horror he saw in her face was like a hot lance through his chest. The beast inside of him saw it as well and it stopped struggling, a small whine vibrating against his bones. Finally, Lydia saw him for what he was: a creature damned.