Chapter Seven
“T
hank God this day is over,” breathed Connor, flipping the clinic's window sign to
Closed
. To borrow words from a patient's young owner, it had been “a totally rotten, no-good, very bad day.” To make it worse, it was probably his own damn fault. He'd insisted that he could handle things just fine while Birkie Peterson was on vacation, that he didn't need any temporary help.
What the hell had he been thinking?
His white-haired receptionist and friend had mentored at least three or four veterinarians before him, and her efficiency bordered on the supernatural. More than that, she was well known for her unflappable nature. If a fire-breathing dragon came through the doors of the North Star Animal Hospital, Connor had no doubt that Birkie would simply take its name and direct it to a chair, probably hand it a cup of coffee and a magazine.
The fire-breathing dragon would have looked good today, he thought as he poured the scorched dregs from the coffeemaker into a Styrofoam cup. Other than the fact that he was still vertical, the day had had few redeeming qualities. He'd semen-tested six young bulls that had been brought in last minute by 83-year-old Ivan Chirikov, then dehorned the lot. Ivan had no phone, seldom came to town, and didn't believe in appointments. He was also mostly deaf. It was simply easier to perform whatever unscheduled procedures he was asking for rather than try to argue. At least it would be six months or so before the old farmer returned with another batch of unplanned patients.
Next was emergency surgery on a cat hit by a car. It was noon before Connor could get back to his regular appointments, which included a few patients he'd rather not have seen. Ever.
One was an old dog that was scheduled for euthanasia. The big Chesapeake was blind, arthritic, and had soiled the carpet one too many times, including that very morning. Connor's Changeling senses could easily read the animal's confusion. She didn't understand why her owners had left her there alone. She did know that they were cross with her. It was instinctive for a canine to keep its den clean, a source of shame to the dog when it failed. Connor ran his hands over the chocolate fur, now dulled to mud-brown with age.
It's not your fault, old girl.
He had soothed the animal's mind and comforted it as he injected the lethal substance. It was over almost instantly, but unexpectedly he had spent the next few minutes in the bathroom splashing his face with cold, cold water. Euthanasia was part and parcel of veterinary practice, but this time it reminded him far too much of what he had been forced to do to Bernie. Oh sure, Bernie was still alive. But only part of him.
A cesarean case came in right before closing time. The calf was already dead and had been for a while, the cow nearly so because of the extreme toxicity. It had been a god-awful mess. Connor had done his very best, used every talent and skill he had at his disposal, but the unfortunate cow likely wouldn't survive the night.
A goddamn perfect ending to a goddamn perfect day.
He sipped the terrible coffee, half wished it was something much stronger. Like his father's favorite whiskey for instance. Connor sighed and wondered how Birkie was doing in Scotland. She'd been his mother's best friend since forever, and had gone with his sister, Kenzie, to visit his parents. He would've liked to have joined them, but that would have meant closing down the clinic completely.
Of course, things would be different if he'd listened to his friends and family and advertised for a partner. Most of the time he resisted the idea. After all, he'd handled the workload on his own just fine for years. Lately, however, he had to admit that his practice had grown much bigger than one vetâeven if he was a Changelingâcould handle. The North Star Animal Hospital served a large chunk of the Peace River country, and the traveling alone was taking up a helluva lot of his time.
Birkie, bless her, had done her best. She'd brought in a steady stream of Animal Health Technicians who needed a few months of practical work experience in order to complete their diploma. The extra hands were invaluable, and thank God he had three techs on hand right now, but there was a limit to what they could do. He needed to bite the bullet and advertise for another partner.
And he ought to ask Zoey Tyler out.
Connor picked up a newspaper from a waiting room chair. Zoey hadn't returned his calls yet, but maybe she was just busy. Or maybe she wasn't interested. He recalled her face when he had covered her hand with his. She had been flustered, and he hadn't needed Changeling senses to discern the jump in her pulse even as she pulled her hand away. There was interest there all right. Attraction. Maybe he could build on that.
God knew there was attraction on his side. And a curious familiarity. He felt as though he knew Zoey, had known her for a long time.
That
he might attribute to the strong psychic link he had been forced to make the night of the attack. But the attractionâwell, that was apparent from the time he'd first spotted her soaking wet and defiant on the roof of her truck. Might as well admit it, he thought. Those amber eyes had him just this side of mesmerized. Her freckles did too. And as for the rest of her, well . . . as tired as he was at night, he still couldn't help thinking about those long legs, and imagining them wrapped around him.
Of course, there were things to consider. She was human. She was also a journalist, and from her writings he could see she had no love for sensationalism. Instead, she paid close attention to detail and delivered solid facts. She'd laughed when he told her about the werewolf storiesâhow would she react if she knew they were true, that Changelings existed? And that it was a Changeling, not a wolf, that had chewed on her?
How would she handle it if she knew that she was in real danger of becoming one?
Zoey's leg needed a final treatment in order to prevent that possibility. And, thanks to Lowen, Connor had a perfectly good excuse for seeing her again. He patted his jacket pocket where the bottle of silver nitrate was nestled. He'd refilled it this morning in the clinic pharmacy, then loaded his other pockets with gauze and such so he'd be ready to rewrap the wound tomorrow. And maybe he'd work on asking her out then too.
Switching his coffee cup to the other hand, he snatched up a doughnutâan apple fritter, courtesy of a clientâand a half dozen boxes of number 4 sutures, juggling them all as he headed down the clinic hallway, scanning the
Dunvegan Herald Weekly
.
Police are advising residents to be particularly watchful, after an animal attacked and bit a local woman Thursday night. The incident occurred after 11
P.M.
when the woman was approached by a large canine similar to one of the sled-dog types raised in this area . . .
Zoey had skillfully managed to present a credible and balanced story without ever using the word
wolf
. She'd gone back to the police, the mayor's office, Fish and Game, and even the dogcatcher, and secured quotes from every last one of them. Somehow she'd managed to overcome their first impression of her as a hysterical woman literally crying wolf. The article spoke of the possibility of coyotes within town limits or dogs gone feral, with references to previous occurrences of both. But no mention was made of wolves.
Damn good job.
Damn good
professional
job, thought Connor. He tucked the paper under his arm and stuck the doughnut in his mouth so he could open the door to his office. All his carefully balanced cargo fell to the floor, however, when he spotted the enormous black wolf inside.
“Christ, Culley!” Connor slammed the door behind him as the creature turned strange blue-gold eyes in his direction. “What the hell are you doing here?” Although the building was empty, instinct had him switching to mindspeech so he couldn't be overheard
. I mean it, Culley, have you gone completely crazy? What if someone sees you?
The black wolf was sprawled on the battered couch that Connor used for napping when surgeries kept him late. The bone-crushing jaws opened wide as the creature yawned hugely, exposing long, sharp teeth.
Dog.
Oh sure, right, like you could pass for a dog! Get the hell out of here before you scare my patients.
The cows in the livestock wing were unlikely to react to the scent of a Changeling, but still. . . .
Dog.
The wolf shook itself. Relaxed its body language, dampened its appearance of alertness. Half-closed its eyes. Slowly, one erect tulip-shaped ear flopped down, then the other. The massive head dropped, the powerful shoulders slouched. Coupled with a toothy grin and lolling tongue, the large creature suddenly looked friendly, almost comical.
Dog.
It'll never work.
Connor wasn't about to admit that the small changes were incredibly effective, particularly when combined with Culley's natural coloration. His long black muzzle had a snippet of solid white right down the middle of it that circled his nose, and there were white hairs in his eyebrows. There was a very
un
-wolflike star on his chest and the tip of his tail was pure white too.
What are you doing here, anyway? Don't you have some electronic gadgets to fix somewhere?
Can't a guy visit his big brother? Haven't seen you in weeks. Bill and Jessie sent me to haul your ass to their house for dinner tonight orâ
A sudden knock at the door made Connor jump. His heart jumped, too, when Zoey Tyler poked her beautiful head inside.
“I was just in the neighborhoodâ” She glanced down. “Gee, I was going to ask if you'd read the paper yet. Sure hope that's not your opinion of my article.”
Connor followed her gaze to the lumpy fritter soaking up spilled coffee like a sea sponge. The packages of sutures had fallen clear of the puddle, but the newspaper had been ground zero. “No, no, I was just clumsy. Iâuhâwas just about to get some paper towels from the lunchroom.” He put a hand on the doorknob, hoping to guide her back into the hall before she looked up and spotted the wolf but it was already too late. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at the massive black creature.
“Oh. My. God.”
To Connor's astonishment, Zoey opened the door further and stepped inside. She had a hand on his arm but her expression was one of wonder, not fear. “That is the biggest, most humongous dog I have ever seen in my entire life. Is that one of those Belgian Shepherds I've been hearing about? Somebody must have crossed it with a Pyrenees to make it so big.”
Connor latched onto that idea a little desperately. “He's definitely an unusual mix.”
“He must have some malamute or husky in him too. Just look at those gorgeous eyes. Can I touch him? Is he friendly?”
Any hope he had of getting Zoey out of his office was dashed as the big black animal jumped off the couch, seemingly as awkward and clumsy as any puppy. It rushed over, wagging its tail so madly that its entire rear section was in motion. “It's okay, he's safe,” Connor reassured Zoey. Mentally, he wasn't so calm.
If you scare her away, Culley, I'll personally kick your hairy butt all over creation, do you hear me?
The creature whined ever so slightly, looked almost hurt.
Good dog.
My ass. But you damn well better act like one now.
Zoey was far from terrified. She laughed as she buried her hands in the thick ruff around the creature's neck and scratched behind its floppy ears. It chuffed and whined, rubbing its massive head against her for more attention. It looked around her and up at Connor with a smug expression and winked a hazel eye at him.
Dog.
How would you like to be neutered?
The animal curled its lips back in answer, showing its fangs. Then Connor heard his brother's laughter in his mind as the black “dog” shook itself and suddenly stood on its hind legs. It towered over Zoey, resting its paws lightly on her shouldersâand licked her face thoroughly.
“Hey!” Connor inserted himself between them and shoved the creature off balance, forcing it to return to all fours.
Mine!
Instinctively he broadcast the primal word with a psychic punch behind it. The wolf skittered backward a few inches as if struck. Planted its feet and stared up at Connor, speculation in those blue-gold eyes. Then it ambled off to sprawl on the couch.
“It wasn't hurting me,” said Zoey from behind him.
“Well, yeah butâbut he can't be allowed to jump up on people like that. Nothing worse than bad manners in a big dog, and it can be downright dangerous for old people and children, you know.” He shot a glare at the creature. It chuffed out a breath at him and looked away, clearly insulted. Connor threw an arm around Zoey's shoulders and gently steered her out of the office, closing the door firmly behind them.
“You're sweating. Are you okay?”
“Just warm,” he lied. He felt very far from
okay
. The wolf within him was awake. Wide, wide, awake and he didn't understand why. Nor did he have the faintest idea why he'd reacted so primitively to his brother licking Zoey's face. For one fleeting instant he'd very nearly Changed. Another second and he would have been at Culley's throat.