Part 12 (2/2)

I moved closer, reaching out, pulling back. I was a veterinarian, for crying out loud. I knew better than to touch an unconscious animal of any kind. That was a great way to get bit. And a wild animal?

That was a great way to get rabies.

Which was the main reason I wanted her out of here. Not that she had rabies. But the authorities would think so. Wild animals-especially twitchy ones like wolves-did not venture into populated areas unless they were starving or rabid. As it wasn't the time of year for starving wolves, this one would find herself in a cage or worse while they waited to make sure she didn't foam at the mouth. She'd saved my life; I couldn't do that to her.

I whistled. One of the wolf's ears twitched. She had a white circle of hair at her neck. Invisible if you weren't very close and her neck wasn't craned just right.

I clapped my hands. Her eyes opened.

Henry?

No one here but the wolf and me. Who was she talking- Wait a second. I'd never heard anything from her before. Of course I never really heard anything from any animal. But why would I imagine she'd think- Henry!

Exactly. I didn't know any Henry.

The wolf sat up. I stepped back and kept stepping back until my legs b.u.mped into my daybed.

She flicked a glance at me, the eerie light green of her eyes even more so with the sunlight streaming through the window over the sink. But her gaze moved on, roaming the room as if searching for something. Or someone. Perhaps- Henry.

She stared at the bathroom door, and that s.h.i.+ver I'd had before returned. Was there someone else in my apartment besides the insane masked man or woman?

”Who's Henry?”

The wolf's eyes returned to me.

”For that matter, who are you?”

Prudence.

My wolf was named Prudence. Hadn't seen that coming.

You can call me Pru if you like.

”Sure, why not? And Henry? Who's he? Where is he?”

Her gaze went to the bathroom again.

”In there?”

No. He is next to the bookcase.

”The only thing next to the bookcase is more books.” I needed a bigger bookcase, but who didn't?

You can't see him.

It didn't sound like a question, but I answered anyway. ”No. Should I?”

Her blue-black fur rippled, a lupine shrug. Probably not.

”Why not?”

He's a ghost.

Chapter 9.

”Sir.” Owen moved back.

Becca's father stepped into the cabin.

”Bly'b,” Owen said, and shut the door.

The man cast him a confused glance. ”Excuse me?”

That had sounded like gibberish.

”The dog.” Owen waved at the bed. ”I told him to stay in German. It's how he was trained, the commands that he knows.”

Dale Carstairs grunted. Owen hoped he had more to say than that. Then again, maybe he didn't. The last time they'd spoken this man had ordered Owen to leave his darling daughter alone.

”You need to leave Becca alone.”

”Wow,” Owen said. ”Dej vu.”

”Don't be a smarta.s.s.”

Owen moved into the kitchen to make coffee, more for something to do than for actual drinking. He was jittery enough just being in Three Harbors without adding caffeine. But Becca's dad had revived all the uncertainty he'd always felt in the man's presence.

Even before Owen had banged his daughter.

Owen tried to cover the flinch and his continued unease with a search for the coffee. There wasn't any. Why would there be? He hadn't been shopping.

”Listen, I...” Owen scrubbed his hands through his hair, turned.

Carstairs stared at Owen's leg. h.e.l.l. He'd gimped across the room without even trying to hide it. Not that he'd have been able to keep hiding it for much longer, but he'd rather not have revealed his weakness to this man first.

”What happened?” While Carstairs's gaze had been hostile when he'd walked in, along with his voice, both had softened. Pity did that.

”World went boom,” Owen said shortly. ”I was in the way.”

”Sorry to hear it. I was also sorry to hear about the trouble at your place.”

I bet you were, Owen thought. If it weren't for the trouble at his place Owen might already be on a plane.

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