Figure of Speech (Halle Shifters) (2 page)

Spencer held up his hand after landing on all four wheels. “That would be me.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Strickland. I’m Dr. Abbot.”

“Nice to meet you too, or at least I hope it will be.” Spencer pointed toward Jim. “This is my brother, James Woods.”

Dr. Abbott nodded to him, but kept his attention primarily on Spencer. “We have the results of your tests, Mr. Strickland.”

“Okay.” Spencer nodded jerkily. “Lay it on me, Doc.”

The doctor smiled and settled on the stool next to the built-in desk. “The good news is you do not have ALS.”

“Yes!” Spencer pumped his fist into the air, high-fiving Jim when Jim held out his hand. “We are
so
getting Big Macs!”

Jim laughed. His brother was a nutter. The man was twenty-four and acted fourteen.

Dr. Abbott smiled. “That’s the
good
news.”

Jim didn’t like the way the doctor had emphasized
good
. “So, what’s the bad?”

Dr. Abbott turned to his computer screen, the smile leaving his face. “Your brother has a rare autoimmune disorder called chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy, or CIDP.”

Spencer looked stunned. “Can you say that in English?”

Dr. Abbott spun to look at them once more and picked up a picture labeled
Typical Neuron Structure
. To the untrained eye it might look like a weird alien flower, but to Jim, a veterinarian, he was all too familiar with it. “Basically, CIDP is a disorder that causes the myelin sheath surrounding the peripheral nerves to be destroyed. This causes weakness in the limbs and, if not correctly diagnosed, wheelchair dependency.”

“Right. Okay.” Spencer patted the arms of his chair nervously. “What’s a myelin sheath?”

“The fatty tissue that surrounds the nerve and protects it. It assists in transmitting the electrical impulses from nerve end to nerve end. Without it, the signal is degraded. In the case of CIDP, this means you think you’ve lost strength in your legs, when in actuality it’s the nerve signal that’s not quite reaching where it needs to go rather than true muscle weakness.”

“What causes it?” Spencer tilted his head, his expression confused.

“We’re not entirely sure. It’s a disorder closely related to Guillain-Barré syndrome, but that
is
treatable and will usually clear up with no side effects. What we believe is that, unlike GBS, it is an autoimmune disorder that is
not
set off by a preceding illness.”

Jim asked the only question that mattered to him. “Is it fatal?”

“No.”

Spencer glanced at Jim and grimaced. “Is there a cure?”

Dr. Abbott slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Strickland.”

Spencer blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair.

“But we can slow, even stop, the progression of the disorder through the use of corticosteroids, intravenous immunoglobulin treatments and plasmapheresis. And with physical therapy you may even regain some use of your legs.”

Spencer looked up at Jim. “Plasmawhat?”

Jim translated. “Okay. Think of it this way. Your immune system is the Empire. It’s decided that your nerves are the Rebel Alliance, and it wants to stomp them into submission. In reality, your nerves are loyal followers of the Emperor, so they can’t understand why they’re being pounded into the ground. Their shields are failing, and they have nowhere to turn.”

“Enter Han Solo?” Spencer was grinning.

“Sort of.” Jim ignored the doctor’s quiet laughter and continued his explanation. “That would be the treatment options. The prednisone would be the X-wing fighters, swooping in to battle but might not wind up sticking around. The immunoglobulin treatments are the Mon Calamari Star Cruisers, the heavy guns, and the plasmapheresis would be the, um…” How would you use
Star Wars
to describe a process where your blood was removed, the plasma filtered out, and new plasma introduced?

“If you say midi-chlorians I’ll be forced to beat the stupid out of you.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m going to be poked and prodded on a regular basis. Got it.”

“We’ll be starting treatment soon, unless…” Dr. Abbott frowned. “I see here you’re going to be moving, Mr. Strickland?”

Jim turned to stare at his brother, joy racing through him. Had Spencer finally decided?

“Yup. I want to be closer to my family. That would be him.” Spencer hitched his thumb toward Jim.

Dr. Abbott closed the file. “In that case, I’ll refer you to an associate of mine closer to Halle, Pennsylvania. I can assure you she’s good, and I’ll make sure she’s familiar with your case.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Spencer held out his hand. “It’s nice to finally get a real diagnosis.”

“It’s in your head, it’s fibromyalgia, it’s GBS, it’s MS—believe me, I’ve heard it all.” Dr. Abbott took Spencer’s hand and shook it firmly. “I’m glad I was able to help.”

The doctor left, and Jim looked at Spencer. “So. Moving to Halle, huh? Are you sure? When we started this you didn’t want anyone to know you were sick.” Spencer had once been a vibrant, athletic man. His disease had hit him hard, but it hadn’t dimmed his spirit. Still, he hadn’t wanted his problems to affect Jim’s life and had asked him to remain quiet about the fact that Jim had a bastard half brother.

Jim hated that. He wanted to tell the world about his brother, how strong and brave he was, but Spencer had been adamant. Rather than stress his brother any further, Jim had reluctantly agreed.

“I got over it.” Spencer winked. “Must have been the midi-chlorians.”

“Does this mean I can finally introduce you to everyone?”

“Aw, man.” Spencer looked away for a moment, a blush on his cheeks. “You know the only reason I said no was because I never wanted to be a burden on you.”

“You aren’t. How many times do I have to tell you that?” He might have only known Spencer for a little over a year, but they’d formed a strong, unbreakable bond. He couldn’t imagine his life without his brother in it now.

“Then take me home.” Spencer blinked innocently up at Jim. “Can we have a kitty?”

Jim’s Wolf howled. It wanted a vixen, not a kitty. “Um. No.”

“Please?”

“How about that Big Mac?”

“Oh, even better.” Spencer wheeled toward the exam room door. “And a McFlurry. And when we get home, you can have a McChloe.”

Jim blinked, not sure he’d heard that one correctly. “Excuse me?”

“You need to bring her home too.”

“Maybe.” Jim shrugged. He couldn’t think about Chloe right now. Just the thought of the little redhead had him longing to be in Halle once more. He reached for the door, eager to get on the road as soon as possible.

“C’mon. Tell me woof-woof doesn’t want to play chase.”

Jim bit back his laugh as his brother wheeled down the hall. “Woof-woof?” Jim had returned from a late-night run and changed, not realizing Spencer was in the room. Spencer’s reaction had been wide eyes and a slew of questions Jim still wasn’t sure he knew all the answers to.

“She can be the Fox to your hound.”

Spencer was one in a million.

They got the information from the front desk that they needed to transfer Spencer to the doctor who worked out of Halle General. When they reached the car, Spencer grinned over his shoulder at Jim. “I call shotgun!”

Jim shook his head, awed he had such a strong, vibrant sibling. “Weirdo.”

Chapter Two

Chloe still wasn’t sure how she’d gotten roped into bringing lunch to Emma, Becky and Sheri, but here she was, trudging through the stifling heat with a bag of sandwiches from Frank’s Diner. Emma had just returned to work from maternity leave, but since Emma co-owned Wallflowers with her business partner and BFF Becky, she was able to bring the baby with her. Chloe had stopped in to see the newest member of the kitty family and had been commandeered into snagging their takeout.

At least she got free food out of it. They’d called and added a sandwich for Chloe so she could join them for lunch.

Chloe finally made it to the door of Wallflowers, for once glad her long red hair had been chopped off during all those surgeries. The back of her neck felt cool for a change, but she still missed the way her hair felt as it flowed down her back. Maybe she’d let the girls at Cynful put some colors into it, some blues and purples to contrast with the bright copper.

“Chloe?”

She blinked, her Fox yowling in desire at the sound of that deep, masculine voice. “Jim.” She turned, smiling weakly. He’d been gone for a week this time.

Not that she’d been stalking him or anything.

Erm.

Maybe a little.

“How are you?” The way he gazed at her, his hazel eyes glittering, his smile warm, had her wondering what the hell he was up to. Jim
never
looked at her like she was a yummy treat he was dying to lick.

“I’m fine. How are you?” She wasn’t going to throw herself at him. She had that much self-respect.

“Better.” He glanced behind him and grimaced. “Listen, I don’t have time to talk, but—”

“Bye.” Chloe opened the door to Wallflowers, leaving Jim standing there, his mouth hanging open. Sort of like he’d left
her
hanging for so long.

Score one for the Fox.

Chloe rattled the bag. “Food!” She set the bag on the table and hastily backed away.

But unlike Cynful, where a hungry group of hyenas would descend on the bag like a ravaging horde of Vikings confronted by naked, nubile women after a year at sea, the ladies at Wallflowers simply walked out of the back room like, well, normal people.

Of course, they were the farthest from normal she’d ever met in her life. And that was saying something, considering her family.

“Thank you, Chloe.” Emma Cannon, the Curana of the Halle Puma Pride and new mother, settled down on the sofa next to a blue-checkered car seat. She transferred the sleeping babe from her arms to the car seat. “God, I’m starving. I could eat a rhino.”

“No you wouldn’t.” Sheri grimaced. “They’re an endangered species.”

“Besides, they’re way too chewy.” Becky glanced around when everyone went silent. “What?”

Emma shook her head. “I swear, Becks, you never cease to amaze me.”

“It was a joke.” Becky rolled her eyes.

“Uh-huh.” Emma’s expression turned sly. “Sort of like the time you bought Simon a corset and stockings?”

Chloe blinked, trying to picture the very masculine glass artist dressed as someone from
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
. She started laughing as she pictured fem-Simon singing “Sweet Transvestite”.

“I never understood why he didn’t find that funny.” Becky sat next to Emma, cooing down at the blue-wrapped bundle of baby shifter before turning to the bag. “Did you want something to drink, Chloe? You can go in the back and get anything you want.”

“Thanks.” Chloe shifted past Sheri, who’d sat in one of the chairs across from the cream Victorian sofa, her seeing-eye dog waiting patiently next to her. Jerry was a Golden Retriever and had been with Sheri for years. “Can I bag anything for anyone else?”

“Pepsi, please. I needs caffeine, my Precious.” Emma gave her puppy dog eyes, no mean feat for the queen of the kitties.

“Would you bring me some water?” Becky pulled an apple out of the bag and sighed. “I still can’t eat these. Too many bad memories of eyeballs and evil bitches.”

“Huh?” Chloe had no idea what Becky was talking about.

Emma and Becky exchanged a quick glance before Emma replied, “Someone drugged Becky. She wound up having hallucinations and landed in the hospital. That person…is no longer a member of the Pride.”

“I’ll take it.” Sheri held out her pale hand. “And could you bring me some water as well, Chloe?”

“No problem.” Chloe, who’d been a waitress before the attack, could easily remember the drinks they’d asked for. It was carrying them that was the problem, but she solved that by putting them in a plastic bag she found in the back and carrying it with her good hand.

When she returned from the back room, she could see Jim outside, speaking to a man in a wheelchair and gesturing toward the entrance of Wallflowers. “Huh. Wonder what that’s about.”

“What what?” Emma looked up from her sandwich toward the plate glass window of her shop. “Hey, Jimmy’s back!”

“Yeah.” Chloe was determined to ignore her wayward mate, instead focusing on the new addition to the Pride. She might not be a Puma, but she lived in Halle, and the Pride had accepted her as one of their own. As far as she was concerned, she was an honorary Puma. “How’s Felix?”

“Demonic,” Emma grumbled, biting viciously into her sandwich.

Becky cupped her hand over her mouth, laughing silently.

Sheri shook her head. “I still can’t believe you named him Felix.”

Emma shrugged. “Garfield was too obvious.” The fact that she said it like it made perfect sense was all Emma. “And Heathcliff was too tragic.”

“I think you should have gone with Nermal. I mean, look at him.” Becky smiled down at her godson with a besotted expression.

Emma just stared at her. “He looks like Winston Churchill and Lady Gaga had a drunken one-night stand.”

Chloe almost sprayed capicola and salami all over the table. “Emma!”

“What?”

The bell over the door jangled, announcing they had a customer. Chloe turned to find Jim and the wheelchair man coming into the store. Jim held the door open for the man, who quietly thanked him. “Geez. You didn’t say it was like estrogen central in here, Jimbo.”

Jim rolled his eyes, but Chloe could see the nervousness in his expression. “They’re going to love you, bro.”

Emma started. “Um.” Her brows rose as she stared at Spencer. “Bro?”

Jim nodded, smiling shyly. It was oddly endearing. “Yes. This is Spencer, my half brother.”

“Yo.” Spencer waved. He then hitched his thumb toward Jim. “This is my brother from another mother.”

Jim totally face-palmed at his brother’s irreverent words.

“Wait a sec.” Emma held up her hand. “You’re serious?”

Jim nodded, lifting his head from his palms. “Dad had an affair with a woman in Chicago about twenty-five years ago. Twenty-four years ago this weirdo was spawned.”

“We didn’t find out about each other until about a year ago. Seems Daddy wanted nothing to do with me when Mom died. Lucky for me, this big galoot found out about me and came for a visit.”

The sour expression on Spencer’s face was not echoed by Jim, who patted his brother’s shoulder. “I’m glad I did, or I would never have met you.” Jim’s gaze darted toward Chloe. “We need to talk.”

“Hallelujah,” Emma muttered.

“About damn time.” Becky glared at Jim.

“Hmph.” Sheri crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed.

Chloe ignored them all. She continued to eat her sandwich, studiously avoiding making eye contact with either Jim or his brother.

Jim sighed. “There’s a lot more going on than you know.”

“You said that fast time.” Chloe caught a glimpse of the confusion on Spencer’s face. Jim must not have told him about her paraphasia.

Jim sighed. “And we were attacked, remember? I never got to tell you what you…no, what
I
needed to.”

Chloe refused to feel sorry for the son of a bitch. Being changed against your will, being bitten by a shifter who wasn’t your mate, was an extremely painful way to be turned. But if he’d just accepted their mating none of that would have happened to him. He would have been a Fox instead of a Wolf, mated to her before the attack.

“Chloe? Are you ever going to speak to me again?” His tone was soft and disappointed.

As if he had the right to be anything but on his knees, begging for forgiveness. She sniffed. “I’m tinkling about it.”

Spencer held up his hand. “Can I explain?”

Before Jim could reply his phone rang. Unable to stop herself, she glanced at his expression long enough to see him wince. “You’ll have to.”

“Uh-oh. I know that tone, bro. Is that who I think it is?” Spencer frowned, holding his hand toward Jim.

“Yeah. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Spencer watched his brother leave the shop, then turned with a determined look and wheeled himself until he was next to Chloe. “Let me tell you about the birds, the bees, and a little thing called CIDP…”

Jim held the phone to his ear and listened to his mother rant and rave. Inside Wallflowers he could see Chloe leaning toward Spencer, listening intently to his words. The horror and sympathy that flashed across the faces of all three women made up at least a little for the raving lunatic his mother had become.

“I cannot believe you brought your father’s bastard home with you, James.” Wanda Woods was practically snarling in fury. “That son of a bitch has done nothing but hurt this family.”

“Spencer hasn’t done a thing wrong, Mom.” Jim watched Chloe as the familiar argument rolled over him. “That was all Dad.”

“He exists. That’s enough for me.”

Jim sighed. “Blame Dad, not Spencer.” Spencer was the only bright spot in his fucked-up family.

“What did I tell you? Leave that skanky ho’s brat alone! Why couldn’t you just leave him in Chicago?” As usual, his mother wasn’t listening to him. Ever since she’d discovered that not only had his father cheated on her, but had a child with the other woman, she’d lost her damn mind. The ongoing divorce proceedings were vicious on both sides as each one of his parents tried to get the upper hand over the other.

He might have felt more sympathy for his mother if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of her rages. This wasn’t the first time she’d called him to bitch him out over something he had little control over. “It’s not my fault Dad cheated, and it’s not Spencer’s fault either.”

“But it’s your fault for shoving it in my face!”

“I can’t ignore him, Mom.” He doubted he’d be able to get through to her, but he tried. God knew, he tried. “He’s my brother.”

“And I’m your mother.” The chill that came into her voice made him sigh. “By bringing him to Halle you’ve told everyone you side with your father.”

“I’m not siding with anyone, and you know it.” His parents’ divorce was going to be the death of him. “I love you both equally.”

“If you did you would have left Spencer where you found him. Not even Arthur wants him in Halle.”

That, at least, was true. Jim’s dad wanted less to do with Spencer than his mother did. The man couldn’t even be bothered to call Jim to bitch about it. The silence from Arthur Woods was as hurtful as the shrill diatribes Wanda shot his way.

The family he’d known and loved was gone, burned away in betrayal and rage, and Jim was left to deal with the shattered lives left behind. An only child, he’d been forced to listen to both of his parents disparage the other as their marriage disintegrated. He’d had to act as not only their therapist but their mediator as each dumped their accusations and misery on his shoulders.

When Jim found out about Spencer it had only gotten worse. If he hadn’t listened to his father’s drunken rants about Spence he might never have found his half brother, never have known the strong spirit of the man who’d grown up without a father in his life. While Jim bitterly mourned the loss of his parents, he couldn’t help but be grateful for finding Spencer when he had. Spencer was the only one who seemed to give a shit about what Jim was going through. Even his friends told him to suck it up, that he was an adult. Just because Jim was an adult didn’t mean he didn’t need his parents, didn’t wish things hadn’t become what they were.

But nothing could bring back the bright, loving parents he’d thought he once had. Maybe once the divorce was finalized they’d realize what they’d done to him, but Jim wasn’t about to hold his breath. No child should have to go through what Jim was, no matter what their age.

So he fought the only battle he could, knowing he wouldn’t win no matter which way he went. “Spencer is my family, Mother, and that’s the end of it.”

He should have been surprised when she hung up on him, but sadly it was an all-too-common occurrence these days. Both of them expected him to pick sides. When he tried to be fair, to treat each of them equally, he got crap like this in return.

Some days he wished he could bring himself to ignore the ringing phone, or stop wishing that it was his father instead of his mother. Just once, he wished they’d tell him that everything would be all right rather than leaving him to deal with all of this shit on his own.

At least Spencer seemed to be getting through to Chloe. His brother was holding Chloe’s hand, and she was nodding sympathetically.

Perhaps, just perhaps, instead of trying to cling to the old, he needed to get started on the new. It was time to make his own damn family, and to hell with his parents. Let them deal with their own shit-storm. He was going to concentrate on Chloe and Spencer and the rest of the people he loved. They’d be the family he’d been missing for so long.

Jim stepped into Wallflowers, fully expecting to be greeted with smiles. What he got was—

“Oof.” Jim laughed as Emma practically jumped him. “Hey, pretty girl.”

A pissed-off yip came from the couch.

“You are such a good boy, Jimbo.” Emma pinched his cheeks. “Yes you are. Oh, yes you are.”

Jim laughed and shoved her off of him. “Knock it off.”

Becky shook her head at them while Sheri simply smiled serenely, well used to Emma’s madness by now.

Their reactions weren’t the ones that interested him, though. It was Chloe, who still sat holding on to Spencer, whose opinion truly mattered. “Chloe?”