Long Shadows: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 2 (2 page)

“Along with your Chianti.” I simultaneously exhaled with relief and disappointment at Giancarlo’s cancellation. I certainly didn’t want to put him in any danger, but I also needed to blow off some steam. The day after the full moon was the worst for wanting to explore other animal impulses once the desire to hunt was satisfied.

Yet another thing they didn’t tell me.

I went to bed after an uneventful evening with no more electrical strangeness. By the time I ventured out to the Jeep to get the files I needed to catch up on, the odd odor had disappeared. That night I dreamed of a tropical beach with a turquoise ocean at my feet and large-leafed flora all around. Huge fuchsia plants dripped the scent of their purple and pink flowers on the breeze. I leaned back in my beach chair, cold drink in hand, and soaked up the sun, happy I wouldn’t have to renew my membership to the tanning salon. Yes, I knew it was bad for me, but it was my one indulgence. Never mind that I had on the skimpiest bikini I’d ever worn and had to keep sipping my drink so I wouldn’t open my mouth and spill all my secrets to the strange man who sat beside me, but whose face I couldn’t quite make out.

Wait a second, whose dream is this?

A buzz startled me awake, and the radio hissed on. I fiddled with the knob. It settled into its regular morning show alarm just as the DJ announced the rain and current temperature with unwarranted perkiness. Something about it reminded me of the flickering lights the night before and how my phone hadn’t rung when Giancarlo called. I shivered again, but I attributed it to the damp and current temperature near forty.

My inner wolf laughed at my dismay.
“Those conditions would be nothing for fur… or spirit fur. Change! We’re being stalked.”

“Tonight. I can’t take the aconite too much. It’s poison in a normal human body.”

A snort, then,
“Change for real.”

“Can’t. Too hard to manage doors, and I can’t escape tight situations in an instant by returning to my body.”

No response, but I sensed her sulking. I knew “she” or “spirit wolf-Lonna” was a manifestation of the animal part of my brain, or maybe even some sort of spiritual part of me, but sometimes she seemed oddly separate, like when we had these conversations. Whatever she was, it put me in a bad mood for my blood work that morning. I would have canceled, but if I did, I’d have to move my physical, which had been scheduled for a year, and I needed to make sure my new weird lifestyle wasn’t having any strange effects on my body. Somehow I suspected being an apex predator wouldn’t grant me an exception for having to wait forever for a new doctor’s appointment.

I arrived at the doctor’s office and took a seat just before my appointment time. It was crowded with people with the ends of that winter’s illnesses, and although they had been given masks to cover up their coughs and sneezes, I touched as few surfaces as possible. It had been a rough year, and I groaned inwardly—stressful job plus powerful viruses equaled lots of people out at the office, which meant more work for me. That was another mixed side benefit of my lycanthropy: a heightened immune system.

A nurse brought me back to the phlebotomy station, and I caught a glimpse of a new doctor. He ran his hand through wavy reddish-gold hair as he talked to a young mother holding a baby, and his green-blue eyes the color of the ocean in my dream sparkled. He had a tan, too dark to have been hanging around Little Rock recently, and in his words, I heard hints of the islands. The faint smell of fuchsia made my heartbeat accelerate.

“Your blood pressure’s up, Miss Marconi,” the young nurse said with concern in her tone.

“Rough morning,” I said. “It’s what happens when I don’t get my coffee.”

She smiled, her teeth bright white against her dark skin. “I understand that. We’ll get this done quickly so you can get you some.” She tied the rubber strap around my arm and poked around for a vein. I looked away so I’d only feel what she was doing, not see it.

“Thank you. New doctor?”

She followed my gaze. “That’s Doctor Fortuna,” she said with a dreamy little sigh. “He’s filling in for Doctor Kasdon while she’s on temporary bed rest. They went to school together.”

“Where is he from?”

“Somewhere in the Caribbean.” She wrinkled her nose. “I know he’s told me, but I can’t remember exactly where. He did his schooling here in the States, though, so don’t worry, when you see him next week, he’ll know what he’s doing. Now,” she said, and gave me a stern look, “your chart says you haven’t had the flu shot. It’s still going around, so it’s not too late.”

“I’ll pass,” I told her, a little shot of adrenaline making my heart skip. Although the current vaccines wouldn’t be contaminated, I’d never trust them again. Not that they could do anything to me that hadn’t already been done by other means, but it was an instinctive response.

“Are you sure?” She put a cotton ball over the hole in my arm and taped it in place. “Keep that there for a little while.”

“Positive. I’ll talk to Doctor Fortuna about it next week.”

That dreamy expression returned. “He’s a good doctor,” she said and packed up her kit.

Her spacey confidence didn’t make me feel any better, and my inner wolf wanted to run around him and sniff him and figure him out. I was relieved to get back to my car and then to my windowless office, where the files I had taken home to catch up on had been replaced by a whole new set. I looked through them and was listing phone calls I’d have to make when Paul walked by and gave me a wave, a grin on his rat face. When he had just passed my door, he turned around and poked his head in.

“Are you free for lunch today?”

I arched an eyebrow. “I believe the correct greeting in our culture is ‘good morning.’”

“Good morning, then.” He stood, hands in his pockets. “Now aren’t you supposed to reply?”

“Touché, and good morning. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

He shrugged. “There’s just something in the air these days. Haven’t you felt it? Spring is my favorite season.”

He had something between his teeth, but I elected not to point it out to him. Honestly, his cheerfulness freaked me out. “It’s not spring yet. And no, I’m not free for lunch.” I gestured to the pile of files and list of phone calls I needed to make.

“I hope you’re not saying that because of our conversation yesterday.” His false concern made me want to strangle him.

“No, I always put my work first, whether you believe it or not. Guess what I was doing last night?”

The look on his face made me immediately regret the question. “Clubbing?” Dear gods, he sounded hopeful.

“No, my
boyfriend
canceled out on me, so I stayed home and caught up on some reports.”

He sniffed. “Keeping everything secure, I hope?”

“Yes, Paul.”
Mostly.
“Unless they changed the rules on us again.”

He laughed, and it came out with a wheeze. “You never know, do you?” He continued chuckling as he walked around the corner. “You really never know.”

“Okay…” I shook my head.
Maybe he finally lost it.

A file that should have gone somewhere else caught my attention, and I jumped up to catch up with Paul. He had disappeared, so I went to his office. I paused just outside the door, hearing his voice. His words chilled me.

“Are you sure?” He spoke with the phone cradled to his ear. “She seems so normal. No, I couldn’t get her to come out for lunch. Yes, she leaves at around five o’clock, and she’s always parked near me. Uh huh, a green Jeep Cherokee, license plate…”

Chapter Two

I
seem
so normal? Who the hell is he talking to?

The office felt cramped and claustrophobic, like there wasn’t enough air. My mind instinctively sought an escape route. The layers of cinderblock and concrete between me and the outside world bore down on me. I tried to force my breath into my stomach, to lengthen my gasps, but my body wouldn’t cooperate.

Don’t change here, don’t change here…

I ran back to my office and shut the door, the anxiety a band around my chest.

Just act like everything’s normal,
I told myself.
There’s nothing to worry about. Leaving work now would only make you look suspicious.

The wolf inside me paced and growled. It was one thing when it was business as usual, and she quieted especially when children came to the office. This was different—someone set a trap, and she didn’t like it. My phone rang.

“Lonna?” It was Paul. “Did you need me for something? I saw you outside my door.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, my tone falsely cheerful. It sounded manic, even to me. “I’ve been in here all morning.”

“Well, I’m in my office if you need something.”

My logical side wanted to keep him talking, to figure out who he sold me out to, but fear paralyzed me, and I couldn’t come up with a clever way to do it without giving myself away.

“There’s one file I had a question about, but it can wait.”

“Come by any time. You know I’m here for you.” He hung up.

“He knows I heard him,” I whispered, my hand trembling as I set the headset in its cradle. The file pile seemed to shoot up in height, and the phone numbers on the page blurred. The urge screamed in my brain,
run, run, RUN!
 

Where, where, WHERE?
I mentally yelled back. I couldn’t physically yell because my lips were sealed like in one of those dreams where something is after you, but it’s a struggle to move even a little bit, or you can’t at all. Again, my logical part asserted,
Stay cool, act normal. You can’t find out what’s going on if you run.

I grabbed my purse and walked out of the building.
So much for logic.
On the way out, I passed Paul’s office, his door cracked. I hesitated, fighting for control, to tell him I didn’t feel well, but I heard him on the phone again.

“Yeah, she should be here all day. Come by any time.”

That made up my mind. I didn’t know who or what was coming for me, but I wouldn’t be there for them.

Whoever Paul talked to had my car description and plates, so I took a cab back to…
Where? They’re probably watching my apartment, and I need to disappear, but not without money and at least a change of clothes.

My cell phone rang.

“
Bellissima
, are you busy today?” It was Giancarlo. “Can you meet me for lunch? Or brunch?”

I forced my tone to stay casual. “I’m at work, but I’m not too busy. I’ll be right there.”

“Come to the restaurant. I’ll have the chef make us something. Any requests?”

“You and he know what I like. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I hung up so he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

Giancarlo worked as a sommelier in a restaurant situated in a multi-use complex off Sam Peck Road. He had one of the condos above a shoe store and bakery. When he woke up in the morning, he could look out of his living room window and see the restaurant, a cute little Italian place where we’d first met. I didn’t know how he did it. Why live someplace where work can reach out and grab you any time?

I paid the cab fare and walked into the restaurant. It wasn’t open for lunch most days, so it was quiet. Giancarlo sat at the bar, nursing a Bloody Mary and holding an unlit cigarette in his hand.

“Long night?” I asked and pecked him on the cheek.

He waved the cigarette in a dismissive gesture. “I lost track of something important.”

Maybe you should stop drinking so much.
I only shrugged. “Did you find it again?”

He smiled. “
Si
, I did, but it had me worried something had happened to it.”

“That’s too bad.”

“What do you want for lunch? Giuliano got some nice salmon in.”

I shook my head. “Just cheese ravioli for me.” His brother Giuliano was the chef and made the best filled pasta I’d ever tasted aside from my Aunt Alicia’s.

“Comfort food? Has something happened,
Bellissima
?”

“I don’t know.”
And I don’t know how much I can trust you.
He looked at me with his big dark brown eyes and ran a hand through his curly black hair. When I first met him, I was sure I’d seen his picture in an art gallery somewhere. He had the classic beauty found rarely in men anymore, at least not in the popular media, which followed a disturbing trend toward skinny and scruffy. I was familiar with his taut muscles, although his lovemaking style was a lot more reserved than one would expect for an Italian. I called it reserved. Wolf-Lonna called it “boring.”

“Whatever it is, I will help you feel better. We’ll eat, and then you can come back to my place for dessert.” He put his hand over mine, and I was pretty sure he didn’t mean tiramisu.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay too long,” I said, “but I would like to pick up a couple of things from your place.”

He dropped his hand like I’d burned him. “What sorts of things?”

“I need to grab the overnight bag I left there, the one with my makeup and everything in it.”
And my emergency stash of cash and aconite.

“Are you leaving me?” he almost whispered and put a hand to his chest. “You would not wound me so.” He took a long swig of his drink and I cringed.