Shepherd's Moon (29 page)

“I need some time to figure out what just happened. Let’s just get this one back to the house.”

Thoughts flooded over me as I focused on the jagged memories of the evening. I knew it was Bren who carried me away from the cats, but no one claimed to have seen him; and I couldn’t get a read on the cougars, something I should have been able to do with ease. On top of that, we still had a rogue werecat, possibly injured, running loose on the University golf course.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Daniel standing off to the side, staring at the caged cat. Calling out, I asked if he was hurt.

His clear blue eyes met mine and he looked shocky. I held out a hand as he moved slowly towards me, shaking his head as if he were coming out of a trance. “I — I’m just not used to them is all.”

The cougar let out a low growl and Daniel took a step back.

“You’ll get used to them soon enough,” I reassured him, avoiding the temptation to feed into his thoughts and see what he was really afraid of. “Come on. We still need to make a stop at the station on the way home.”

I stood, which turned out to be a big mistake.

A blinding pain flashed through me as my leg promptly gave way. Daniel reached to out to catch me, but the second he grabbed my arm, Billy pushed him out of the way.

“Billy! What the hell is wrong with you?” I pulled my arm from his grasp and steadied myself on the truck instead. “Apologize right now!”

He shook, rage sweeping through him as I stood there staring at the shifter. “Billy…”

His mouth opened once, twice — as if he were going to say something. And then, as quickly as the anger came upon him, a calm settled over him. With one last glance, he turned and disappeared into the night.

We watched him leave as Brock moved to my side with a meaningful glance. Turning to Daniel, I said “I’m sorry. He’s just worried about me…”

But, was he really? Could the cat have inspired that much rage in the shifter and if so, why?

Brock took control of the situation. “Daniel, help Alex into the truck and wait for us.”

“We should stop by the station and pick up Richard’s new prisoner.”

Brock shook his head. “Richard will have to take care of his own problems tonight.”

I was too sore to argue the point and wondered why I even suggested it in the first place. The loss of blood must be messing with my common sense. My leg protested the slightest movement, so I resolved to let Daniel help me to the truck while I sulked and awaited the boys’ return.

When the two finally arrived back at the car, Billy was back to his old self. Whatever demons he was wrestling with, he appeared to have resolved the issue — which left us free to dwell on the problem of an injured werecat running around the university campus and another in the back of the truck. The only thing left to do tonight was get home, nurse my wounds, and interrogate a mountain lion.

Piece of cake…

“Ay dios mio!”

Aida flung the words at me as I hobbled through the door, supported between Billy and Brock.

The back of my head still throbbed with thick waves of pain that reverberated through me with every movement. Billy’s frustration at missing the other cat had culminated in a steady stream of complaints that lasted the entire way home as he and Brock bickered in the front seat of the truck. I’d spent the ride half-collapsed in the back of the dual cab with Daniel who cringed every time an angry word rang out. Unloading a very angry werecat who refused to shift into human form had completed the night.

Suffice it to say, it had been a long-assed day.

I held a hand up to Aida in a silent plea to let me get through the door without panicking everyone. Brock moved aside to give us room as Billy helped me limp down the hall into the large laundry room that we used as an informal medical station when the need arose. Aida followed, cursing under her breath in Spanish as he lowered me onto a wooden chair, then kneeled beside me.

The smell of bacon sizzling in a pan filled the house, which was fortunate as it covered the scent of my blood. Jace was cooking, apparently oblivious to anything but the bacon, and called out from the kitchen asking how we wanted our eggs. A chorus of requests that ranged from scrambled to over-medium rang through the house. I wasn’t sure why he even asked, knowing he would just scramble them together with crumbled bacon, green pepper and onion — his signature dish. I didn’t even bother answering. Despite feeling starved, the mere thought of food made me feel even more nauseous.

As a registered nurse, Aida came in handy at times like these. She didn’t waste any time, and a knife appeared from the pockets of her apron as if she were a magician. Then, moving the lamp closer to her, she deftly cut my jeans away from the injury.

“¿Qué pasó?” she whispered.

“Pumas,” I grumbled, wincing as she continued to destroy my most comfortable pair of jeans.

Billy took one look at the bloody mess that was once my thigh and immediately paled. I dismissed him with a tired wave of my hand. “Go eat, Billy.”

With a sigh of relief and a mumbled apology, he made his way to the kitchen. Truth be told, it was a little strange to have a Were so terrified of blood. But, maybe it was just because it was
my
blood. It never seemed to bother him when it flowed from someone he was fighting or when he was enjoying a mostly raw steak.

“What kind of cats?” Jace interrupted my thoughts as he walked into the laundry room carrying a plate of food and a cup of the delicious-smelling coffee. From the sounds of bickering in the kitchen, Brock and Billy had taken over the task of cooking.

I waved the food away, but accepted the coffee.

“Big cats…” I said casually, as I tried to focus on something other than my throbbing leg.

Jace nodded, and set the plate of food on the counter, near my arm — a gentle, but firm reminder that I needed to eat.

“Put pressure here,” Aida told Jace as she began gathering supplies from the cabinet.

Jace held a towel on my leg as I reached for the steaming mug. The comforting scent of cinnamon and nutmeg wafted towards me. Coffee cures all evils…

“I hope he at least bought you dinner?” Jace grinned, surveying my wound.

I rolled my eyes, but Aida looked sufficiently put out at his joke.

“This does not worry you?” she accused him, waving her hand in the air. “You make jokes about our Alexandra who runs around the city all night with no protection?”

He raised his eyebrows, a sparkle in his eye. “You do have protection, don’t you?”

I grinned, but immediately lost the smirk when I met Aida’s eyes. He placed an arm around her shoulders giving me a wink. “You worry too much, Aida. She
did
have Billy guarding her all night.”

She glared at him and placed her hand in the pocket of her apron, producing a folded piece of paper that she reluctantly handed to me.

“What’s this?” I questioned, taking the note.

“El número de matrícula del vehículo que la llevó.”

“English, Aida,” I whined. “Please, I’m out of practice, I’m in pain, and I’m tired.”

Jace took the paper from me and glanced at it before handing it to me. “Plate numbers. She thinks Cassie was kidnapped”

“Mi hermana,” Aida blurted out before pausing, as she thought of the English translation. “My sister. She was there last night, and she sees Cassie talking with la policia. They push her in car and drive away.”

I took another sip of the coffee and pushed the plate of food away from me, refusing to buy into her panic. “When?”

“Nueve.”

Okay — that explained why Cassie wasn’t at the office talking Richard through a Skype call earlier in the evening. Yet, I didn’t feel alarm bells ringing quite yet. Cassie worked with the police, so nothing out of the ordinary there. I shrugged, not understanding the problem.

“Eran lobo camaleóns,” she answered, exasperated.

Wolf changers.
That’s as close as the Spanish got to the word, werewolves. But the only shifters in the Phoenix PD belonged in Richard’s unit, and they were all with me when Cassie got into that car.

“Are you sure?”

Aida nodded. “Sí. She just arrived from Mexico. She does not understand our kind.” A look of sadness crossed her face and I felt my heart go out to her. It’s a hard thing to be different, and even more difficult when those closest to you fear you.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and tried Cassie’s number. It went straight to voicemail. “I need you to call me, Cassie. Whatever you’re doing, stop doing it and call me back. It will only take a second.” Ending the call, I stared at my phone for a moment, processing the information.

“What was your sister doing at the Half Moon?” If Aida’s sister was so afraid of the preternatural, the Half Moon was no place for her.

“She does not know the dangerous areas.”

Pondering the information, I stole a quick glance through the door at Brock who held his plate and was focused on piling it high with fried eggs, potatoes and what appeared to be at least a half-pound of bacon.

“What do you think?” I called over my shoulder.

Brock hesitated, his mouth full. “Hard to say. Call Richard.”

“I’ll talk to Richard, if you’ll find Bren.” Although I had a pretty good idea where he’d been, no matter what anyone said. Regardless, I needed to hasten the healing process on this leg and his blood would do the trick.

He mumbled under his breath and shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth. “I’m not sure I even want to know.”

“Better you than me,” I said, swallowing the last of my coffee and holding the empty mug up for a refill, which Jace faithfully took from my hands. “God only knows what that man does in his free time.”

“No one’s talked to him in two days,” Brock said quietly.

Talked
, no. But maybe he’d saved some other damsel in distress. “See what you can find out.”

He nodded, finishing off the plate of food in front of him.

Aida poured Betadine over the three long claw marks that raked my thigh and I flinched against the sudden burn. I was afraid to look down, knowing it would result in yet another scar that I didn’t need. Aida seemed to read my thoughts. “These cats, they are very dangerous.”

“You think?” I asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. If anyone could confirm how dangerous these cats really were, it was me. The beginning of a smile tugged at her lips at my outburst.

“Lo siento,” I mumbled the apology, then motioned to my leg. “Will it need stitches?”

She shook her head. “Stitches will only trap the evil. We will let it drain.” She placed hot cloths against the deep scratches before reaching towards another set of steaming washrags in the dish next to her and repeating the motion. When the wound was clean, she reached for a small jar of a clear salve and gently applied it to my leg before placing clean wrappings over the leg and finished dressing the injury.

“It is very deep — in the muscle. You will be very sore.”

So what else is new,
I thought. This was just one more time I wished I could heal like those in my pack. One shift, and the rest of my crew would be back to normal. It would take me a few weeks to get back to normal, unless I did another injection, and it was pretty early to be doing that. Aida finished wrapping my leg, then handed me a pair of sweats from the dryer. Holding my arm as I awkwardly pulled the pants on. Reaching into the cabinet, she rifled through the large collection of medication until she found the two she wanted. Handing me the first bottle, she placed a tablet in my hand.

“Not too much,” she warned.

A quick glance at the label told me it was Vicodin and I shot her a dirty look for hiding them from me. At least it would take the edge off. Shaking out more tablets, I downed them with the bottled water she passed to me, then pocketed the bottle. Aida shook her head in disapproval before handing me another bottle. “Clindamycin,” she said, issuing further instructions as I carefully pulled my sweats over my throbbing leg.

Great — more antibiotics.
And I had just finished a round two weeks ago after a werefox had taken issue with me. “We really need to find Bren.”

She shook her head. “No. It is too early. Your arm is not healed and your leg has been injured — you will die if the poison sets in.”

“I can handle it.” I’d had plenty of Bren’s blood over the years and I was still fine. My only hope at the moment was that I still had enough in my system to get this leg back to normal by morning. “The poison won’t set in.”

An incline of her head told me she wasn’t so sure. “A few more days — even for you.” She shot a pleading look at Jace, then left the room, brushing past Brock.

“Did you reach him?” I asked.

Brock was already punching in numbers on his cell phone, glancing at the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. “He’s not answering.”

“Keep trying,” I sighed, rummaging for my own cell phone. Obviously it was going to be a long night. If I did have a concussion, and the chance of that was good, I wouldn’t be sleeping anyway. I touched the screen of the phone as I poured another cup of coffee.