"No, I don't think so." Trembling fingers flitted over her shoulder, pulling the fabric aside to reveal unharmed skin. "Just got the wind knocked out of me," Jorie said. Still looking dazed, she glanced in the direction where the Maki had vanished. "What the hell was that?"
"A mugger," Griffin said.
"Here?" Jorie shook her head. "This is Osgrove, not Minneapolis."
Guilt singed through Griffin again. She had brought violence to Jorie's doorstep. She had gotten her hurt. "Crime is everywhere." It sounded lame to her own ears.
"Hey, Ms. Price," one of the patrons who had left the diner after them called over to them. "Everything okay over there? Do you need any help?"
Human,
Griffin's nose told her. "Thanks," she answered. "Ms. Price is handling things just fine. We'll call the police in a second." She didn't want another human involved.
The human glared at her. "I wasn't asking you. I was talking to Ms. Price, so why don't you let her answer?" He strode down the side street toward them.
Oh, fantastic.
If she were human, Griffin would have rolled her eyes.
Small-town locals are like members of a Kasari pride. They insult, squabble, and ignore each other, but if a stranger shows up, they're suddenly one big, happy, protective family.
She knew she had to act before other locals joined them.
"It's all right, Mr. Savin," Jorie called before Griffin could think of something to defuse the situation. "I really am fine."
The man stayed where he was but continued to watch them.
Great.
Griffin grumbled.
Now I'm afternoon entertainment for the locals.
"What about you? Did you get hurt?" Jorie asked. Her gaze, now already much calmer than seconds before, slid up and down Griffin's body.
Griffin rubbed the side of her head. "I think he hit me, but don't worry, I have a pretty thick head." With the density of her bones, she hardly felt any pain.
"Let me see," Jorie said. With her uninjured hand, she tugged Griffin down and parted her hair, gently searching for any signs of injury. Her fingers froze. "Wow. What happened to your ear?" One of Jorie's fingers traced the rim of Griffin's ear, where a part of it was missing.
It took all of Griffin's self-control to hold still even though her instincts told her to draw back from Jorie's touch — or to lean into it. Her Puwar side hated having her personal space invaded while her Kasari half wanted to feel the gentle fingers run through her hair again and again. "One of our vets misjudged the dose it would take to sedate a bobcat," Griffin lied smoothly, "and when I bent down to put the radio collar around his neck, he gave me this little love bite."
"Ouch," Jorie murmured. Her finger softly ran along Griffin's ear once more, then withdrew when she became aware of it. "You have a dangerous job."
You have no idea,
Griffin thought but said nothing. The piece of her ear had been bitten off by a cougar-shifter when she was on a mission a few years ago. Unlike other wounds she had suffered in the line of duty, it had never healed. Shifting stimulated wound healing, but it didn't enable them to grow back missing limbs or a halfway bitten-off ear.
Jorie continued to run her fingers along Griffin's scalp. "You have a little bump right here," a soft touch to the side of Griffin's head, "but it doesn't appear to be too bad." Dark eyes drilled into Griffin's, and she saw her own reflection in the onyx surface. "Your pupils look normal. No blurry vision?"
Griffin had trained herself not to react when humans stared into her eyes. She held Jorie's gaze. "No," she answered. At least not more than usual. Wrasa scientists had found out that, compared to human eyesight, a Wrasa's vision was always a little blurry. "You're good at this." She nodded down at Jorie's competent hand that was now withdrawing from her scalp.
"I worked in an animal shelter for a while, and I often helped the vet when he came over to treat one of the animals," Jorie said.
How fitting. She patched up animals, and now she's helping me.
In some ways, Griffin felt she didn't deserve the help even though Jorie taking care of her had been part of her plan — the only part that had succeeded. Everything else had gone horribly wrong.
"Why did you run after an armed mugger?" Griffin asked. She had been so sure that the reasonable Jorie wouldn't do something so stupid.
"He stole the backpack with my notebook," Jorie said as if that explained everything.
And maybe it did. Her writing was intensely personal for Jorie. She couldn't just give up part of it without a fight. Griffin had been so sure of how the human would react, but she had miscalculated — and now Jorie had gotten hurt. "Stupid," she mumbled.
"Oh, but throwing yourself between me and the mugger was the clever thing to do?" Jorie shot back. She apparently thought Griffin's comment had been aimed at her.
The grateful admiration that Griffin's plan had included was missing from her voice. It seemed Jorie wasn't good at being a damsel in distress.
"I saw him attacking you and... I guess it was just instinct." This time, she was telling the truth. Jorie was part of her assignment, was her responsibility. No one else was allowed to harm even one hair on her head.
From under shaggy bangs, Jorie ruefully grinned up at Griffin. "Then I guess we both didn't act very clever. It seems I completely misjudged the situation. I was pretty sure he only wanted my money and wasn't out to hurt anyone."
Jorie was right, of course — or at least partially right. The Maki hadn't wanted her life. Not yet.
But how could she be so sure of it?
Griffin wondered. Even under the best circumstances, humans normally couldn't read Wrasa body language and facial expressions that easily, and with the knife at her throat, Jorie should have been unable to see anything but a threat to her life.
She took her cell phone from her jacket pocket. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Jorie asked, indicating Griffin's head.
No!
Panic bubbled up and made her skin prickle. Hospitals were dangerous places for shape-shifters. They could allow themselves to be treated in a hospital only if they were sure that the physician was a fellow Wrasa. Even if she could find a Wrasa doctor, being left behind at the hospital would defeat the purpose of her clever plan — to make sure that Jorie wouldn't just dismiss her from her life. "No," she said with finality. "It's just a little bump. I'll be fine. No hospital necessary." She hesitated and gnawed on her lip as she stared down at Jorie's arm. "What about you? Is it deep enough to need stitches?"
"No, I don't think so." Leaning against the side of Griffin's car, Jorie placed the call to the police and relayed what had happened. She gave an amazingly accurate description of the mugger. The scent of fear and shock still clung to her. Jorie's legs were shaking as the fact that she could have been killed or seriously hurt hit home. But when Jorie ended the call, she straightened and visibly pulled herself together.
Despite wanting to see Jorie as the enemy, the opponent in their deadly game of cat and mouse, Griffin couldn't help admiring her.
Jorie slid the cell phone back into her jacket. A slight tremor vibrated through her fingers.
"Hey," Griffin said, using her gentlest voice. "You all right?"
"I'm fine." Jorie stuffed her trembling hands into the pockets of her jacket.
Before long, a police cruiser pulled up in front of the diner. Two men, one of them in uniform, got out. They pushed through the gathering crowd of gawking locals and walked toward Jorie and Griffin.
Wrasa,
her eyes said as she watched the officer, and her nose added,
Kasari.
If she wasn't mistaken, he was one of her fathers' men. Cedric Jennings had contacted him and had briefed him on what to say to Jorie. The mugging had been timed so that the only Wrasa on Osgrove's three-man police force was on duty when the call came.
The civilian who accompanied him was human, though, and not part of their plan. Griffin didn't like the pungent scent of disinfectant, talcum powder, and various ointments that clung to him. "Hello, Ms. Price," the human, a tall man in his late thirties, said. "What happened? I was paying Ted a visit at the station when you called, and I insisted on coming with him to make sure you're all right. Are you all right?" He clutched his black bag and anxiously studied Jorie from head to toe.
Griffin watched them. It was obvious that the human knew Jorie.
"I'm fine, Doctor," Jorie said again, starting to sound impatient with his rambling. "Just a scratch."
"What happened?" the Wrasa officer asked.
Jorie's teeth plucked at her lip. "A man stole Dr. Westmore's wallet and my backpack. When I tried to get it back, he attacked me with a knife."
"Could you take a look at her arm?" Griffin asked the man who was obviously a physician. "I wrapped her arm, and I think it stopped the bleeding, but just to make sure..." Her experience with human injuries was very limited.
It's limited to causing them, not healing them,
she bitterly thought.
The physician studied the provisional bandage. No blood was seeping through. "You did a very good job with the first aid," he said, giving Griffin a quick nod before his gaze was back on Jorie. "Come over to my practice, and let me take a look at the arm. You could probably use a tetanus shot too."
Jorie hesitated. "I'll need to give a statement."
"Why don't we all go to Dr. Saxton's office and you can give your statements there?" the officer suggested.
Good.
That way, she wouldn't get separated from Jorie now that she had one foot in the door.
"Are you okay to walk across the street to the doc's office?" the police officer asked. "I need to secure the scene, see if there are possible witnesses, and search the streets for the mugger, in case he's still around. I'll meet you at the doc's office to take your statements."
Griffin knew what he would really do: clean up every single drop of blood — just in case some of it was Griffin's or the Maki's — and make sure that the patrons of the diner hadn't seen anything and that the Maki could get away undetected.
"I'm fine; of course I can walk," Jorie answered.
Despite her protests, the doctor took hold of her uninjured arm and stroked his fingers over her elbow as he led her across the street.
Griffin trailed after them.
Oh, let me guess. He's completely infatuated with Jorie. Humans!
Well, at least it might keep him from paying too close attention to her.
Dr. Saxton didn't need to unlock the front door even though it was already getting dark. "My receptionist is staying late today. She's finishing up some paperwork for me," he said.
Great.
Griffin wasn't pleased to learn that somebody else was still around. The fewer people who learned what had happened, the better.
When they entered, Dr. Saxton's receptionist looked up from the paperwork on her desk, her reading glasses balanced precariously on the tip of her nose. She shoved them back up as she rounded the desk and hustled toward them. "What happened?" she asked.
She's one of us,
Griffin knew before she looked into the amber eyes. Her nose could detect a fellow Wrasa without the help of her other senses.
What do you know. The good doctor's receptionist is a Kasari. And a Kasari that looks oddly familiar. Do I know her? And does she know Jorie, or is she so concerned about the well-being of every human who comes in here?
"Just a superficial little scratch," Jorie said.
"Do you want me to help, Doctor?" the Kasari woman asked. "Christine is already gone, but I could lend you a hand," she said even though as a receptionist, she didn't have the training to assist the doctor.
But Dr. Saxton shook his head. He apparently wanted to be alone with this particular patient. "No, thank you. It's just a simple cut. I don't need any assistance for that."
"I'll need proof of insurance," the Kasari said.
Jorie sighed. "Sorry, but that just got stolen."
"It's okay," Dr. Saxton said to his receptionist. "We'll worry about it later." He gestured for Griffin to stay in the waiting room while he led Jorie to his treatment room.
The chairs in the waiting room seemed reasonably comfortable, but Griffin was too agitated to sit. The smell of disinfectant drifted through the doctor's office and made Griffin's sensitive nose burn. Another reason why she hated doctor's offices. The scent of Jorie's blood was worse, though, because it had been spilled because of her.
There was no way you could have known she would react like this. It was an accident,
she told herself. But if she was honest with herself, something like this had been bound to happen. In the ten years that she had been a saru, her commanders and the council had ordered more and more daring missions and given less and less consideration to the safety of their human targets.
Griffin had followed their lead. She had let herself be caught in the thrill of the hunt, the pleasure of coming up with a clever plan.
How long before one of these accidents kills an innocent human? We're not even sure yet if Jorie is a threat to us, but we thought nothing of endangering her life. We can't go on like this.
"Hey, are you all right?" Jorie's voice came from the doorway. "You look so... pained. Is your head hurting?"
The concern in her voice made Griffin feel even worse. "No, I'm fine. What about you?"
Jorie lifted her arm, presenting a new bandage. "Didn't need stitches. Dr. Saxton placed a few butterfly bandages over the cut."
"Dr. Westmore?" the human's baritone called from the treatment room. "Ms. Price said you took a hit too. Let me take a look at your head."
Great.
She hoped he wouldn't get any crazy ideas about transferring her to a hospital and doing a CAT scan. At least she could use this to make Jorie volunteer to keep an eye on her.
"Sit down." Dr. Saxton directed her to a padded chair and leaned close to examine her head. "So you are a friend of Ms. Price?"