Ben chose that moment to come down the stairs, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, scrubbing his hand through his unruly hair. "No, I'm okay." He sat on the floor by Janni's raised feet, which made Alex frown. Usually Ben sat beside his wife, not on the rug.
"You've been run through twice with a silver sword, Master Ben," Chambliss said. "And ripped a man to shreds with, apparently, your bare hands. I'd venture to say that you're far from 'okay.'"
"I've been through worse," Ben said, resting his forehead on Janni's knee.
"Just because you've been through worse in the past doesn't mean that this event wasn't also traumatizing," Chambliss pointed out before Alex could.
"It's not the event itself. It's that I can't actually remember it that's got me freaking." The line of his shoulders told everyone in the room how tense Ben was. "I should remember something like that."
"It is possible, Master Ben, that your mind has become so overloaded with trauma that it's hiding things from you so you don't have to deal with them."
"Well, make it stop." Ben didn't lift his head. "Because that's freaking me out more."
Ben chose that moment to come down the stairs, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, scrubbing his hand through his unruly hair. "No, I'm okay." He sat on the floor by Janni's raised feet, which made Alex frown. Usually Ben sat beside his wife, not on the rug.
"You've been run through twice with a silver sword, Master Ben," Chambliss said. "And ripped a man to shreds with, apparently, your bare hands. I'd venture to say that you're far from 'okay.'"
"I've been through worse," Ben said, resting his forehead on Janni's knee.
"Just because you've been through worse in the past doesn't mean that this event wasn't also traumatizing," Chambliss pointed out before Alex could.
"It's not the event itself. It's that I can't actually remember it that's got me freaking." The line of his shoulders told everyone in the room how tense Ben was. "I should remember something like that."
"It is possible, Master Ben, that your mind has become so overloaded with trauma that it's hiding things from you so you don't have to deal with them."
"Well, make it stop." Ben didn't lift his head. "Because that's freaking me out more."
"You will shut up except when you're saying that you don't know anything." His grip on my shoulder was painful. "Which you don't. For all you know, a bear got her and you stumbled across the body after the fact."
"And that's why her blood was in my mouth." I wasn't buying what he was selling. "Just so you know, Jesse, I'm a terrible liar."
"That does it," Sharon said. "We should kill him. He's a danger to the whole pack." She stood up suddenly enough that her chair crashed to the floor. She was taller than me, and I automatically cowered, swallowing hard.
"Stand down, Sharon," Jesse said. He sounded mild, but his eyes were hard as iron. She only held his stare for a moment before finding her chair, righting it, and sitting. "Tim," he said, and I twitched. "No more nonsense about going Lone. You're not equipped for it, not yet. Maybe not ever." His tone was uncharacteristically gentle. Carrot instead of stick. "It takes awhile for a new wolf to gain control and memories. Sometimes it never happens. That's why we have a pack."
"Okay," I whispered hoarsely. "But what about Lacey?"
"You let me worry about her. That's why you have an Alpha."
"You will shut up except when you're saying that you don't know anything." His grip on my shoulder was painful. "Which you don't. For all you know, a bear got her and you stumbled across the body after the fact."
"And that's why her blood was in my mouth." I wasn't buying what he was selling. "Just so you know, Jesse, I'm a terrible liar."
"That does it," Sharon said. "We should kill him. He's a danger to the whole pack." She stood up suddenly enough that her chair crashed to the floor. She was taller than me, and I automatically cowered, swallowing hard.
"Stand down, Sharon," Jesse said. He sounded mild, but his eyes were hard as iron. She only held his stare for a moment before finding her chair, righting it, and sitting. "Tim," he said, and I twitched. "No more nonsense about going Lone. You're not equipped for it, not yet. Maybe not ever." His tone was uncharacteristically gentle. Carrot instead of stick. "It takes awhile for a new wolf to gain control and memories. Sometimes it never happens. That's why we have a pack."
"Okay," I whispered hoarsely. "But what about Lacey?"
"You let me worry about her. That's why you have an Alpha."
A sultry blonde in a fire-engine red dress cut down to there and slit up to here sidled up and sat on the stool beside him. "Get me a Manhattan, Rob? Hey, cutie, why so down?" she asked.
Ben lifted his head slowly and looked her straight in the face. "Dead child." His expression, he was sure, would have put a champion poker player to shame. "She was seven."
She had the grace to flinch. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"Not my kid. Still, hard." He fisted his hand in his hair and hunched his shoulders, staring at the surface of the bar again. So much blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the image went away. For now.
"A case?" He gave her a sideways look without moving his head, and she shrugged. "I heard you work for a private detective. And that you were good at...problem-solving."
He barked out a sound that only a psycho would have mistaken for a laugh. "Not tonight, I wasn't." Too late, too late, too late, ran the litany in his mind. If he'd just figured it all out five minutes faster, maybe the guy wouldn't have gotten away. Maybe the little girl would still be alive.
He drained his glass and set it down harder than he needed to. "What d'you want, lady? Very busy doing nothing right now. Would like to get back to it." Longer fragments. Still, fragments. "Another, Rob."
Rob's mouth tightened. "Last one, Ben. And then I'm calling you a cab."
The state he was in, that was probably a good idea, and not because of the alcohol. But he didn't like the idea of being cut off and bared a tooth that was longer and pointier than normal. Rob wasn't fazed--he'd seen it before. He set the glass in front of Ben, who glared at nothing in particular while he sipped it. Might as well take his time. He wasn't ready to go home to an empty house; Janni would be working at her catering job for a couple more hours yet.
"I want you to kill someone for me." He'd forgotten about the blonde, and he twitched violently.
A sultry blonde in a fire-engine red dress cut down to there and slit up to here sidled up and sat on the stool beside him. "Get me a Manhattan, Rob? Hey, cutie, why so down?" she asked.
Ben lifted his head slowly and looked her straight in the face. "Dead child." His expression, he was sure, would have put a champion poker player to shame. "She was seven."
She had the grace to flinch. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"Not my kid. Still, hard." He fisted his hand in his hair and hunched his shoulders, staring at the surface of the bar again. So much blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the image went away. For now.
"A case?" He gave her a sideways look without moving his head, and she shrugged. "I heard you work for a private detective. And that you were good at...problem-solving."
He barked out a sound that only a psycho would have mistaken for a laugh. "Not tonight, I wasn't." Too late, too late, too late, ran the litany in his mind. If he'd just figured it all out five minutes faster, maybe the guy wouldn't have gotten away. Maybe the little girl would still be alive.
He drained his glass and set it down harder than he needed to. "What d'you want, lady? Very busy doing nothing right now. Would like to get back to it." Longer fragments. Still, fragments. "Another, Rob."
Rob's mouth tightened. "Last one, Ben. And then I'm calling you a cab."
The state he was in, that was probably a good idea, and not because of the alcohol. But he didn't like the idea of being cut off and bared a tooth that was longer and pointier than normal. Rob wasn't fazed--he'd seen it before. He set the glass in front of Ben, who glared at nothing in particular while he sipped it. Might as well take his time. He wasn't ready to go home to an empty house; Janni would be working at her catering job for a couple more hours yet.
"I want you to kill someone for me." He'd forgotten about the blonde, and he twitched violently.
Janni had brought in a stack of his own clothes--a tank top, cotton boxers, and a pair of cargo shorts. And his wedding ring had pride of place, right on top. His knees went weak--weaker--and he grabbed it and held it against his chest like he'd never let it go, even as he sat abruptly on the toilet lid. She came to stand beside him, and he leaned on her, shaking a little because the shakes still hadn't let him go quite yet. "Omigod, honey."
She had a tremor of her own going. "I know."
"I wish...I wish I'd had it with me. Might've--" Might've held out longer, he decided not to say. Now was not the time to bring up what he'd done with Angeline, although he'd have to tell her sometime, sooner rather than later. He cringed, thinking about it, remembering the joking discussion about cheating the night he'd disappeared. Breathe, he reminded himself, and slid the ring on.
Janni had brought in a stack of his own clothes--a tank top, cotton boxers, and a pair of cargo shorts. And his wedding ring had pride of place, right on top. His knees went weak--weaker--and he grabbed it and held it against his chest like he'd never let it go, even as he sat abruptly on the toilet lid. She came to stand beside him, and he leaned on her, shaking a little because the shakes still hadn't let him go quite yet. "Omigod, honey."
She had a tremor of her own going. "I know."
"I wish...I wish I'd had it with me. Might've--" Might've held out longer, he decided not to say. Now was not the time to bring up what he'd done with Angeline, although he'd have to tell her sometime, sooner rather than later. He cringed, thinking about it, remembering the joking discussion about cheating the night he'd disappeared. Breathe, he reminded himself, and slid the ring on.
"I need you to uncuff me and get the wolfsbane off. I can't smell anything, and it hurts, and it's clogging up my brain. We need to think, not react." Ben lifted a weary and sardonic eyebrow. "It's a sad day when you're panicking more than I am."
"If you think I'm taking the cuffs off, you're crazy." But Perez unwrapped the wolfsbane, which made a squelching noise as it came reluctantly away. The roots had burrowed a full inch into him, and he clenched his jaw and reminded himself to breathe through the pain.
"I'm not going to be able to help you like this. You know about my issues, Perez, and the fact that I'm still conscious is a testament to how worried I am about Ange. Uncuff me, dammit." He closed his eyes. "You can leave the collar on if you're afraid I'll wolf and go for you. I let Rafe off the chain wearing that, it'll choke me down in about five seconds flat."
Gritting his teeth, Perez unfastened the cuffs but left them on his wrists. "Now. Use that vaunted nose and tell me what happened here."
Sitting up, Ben rolled the feeling back into his shoulders. "How long was the wolfsbane on? My smeller is still dead."
"Not long. What do you remember?"
No way was Ben going to tell him that. The flash he'd gotten, out of context, painted a wholly damning picture of himself that Ben wasn't willing to take at face value--not yet, anyway. He assessed the elevator car like he would a battlefield. Himself, unconscious but basically undamaged--he felt as if he'd been drugged. Ange's blood, sprayed liberally over everything, including him. No drag marks going out the open door, or a blood trail either. That meant--
He didn't know what that meant.
"I need you to uncuff me and get the wolfsbane off. I can't smell anything, and it hurts, and it's clogging up my brain. We need to think, not react." Ben lifted a weary and sardonic eyebrow. "It's a sad day when you're panicking more than I am."
"If you think I'm taking the cuffs off, you're crazy." But Perez unwrapped the wolfsbane, which made a squelching noise as it came reluctantly away. The roots had burrowed a full inch into him, and he clenched his jaw and reminded himself to breathe through the pain.
"I'm not going to be able to help you like this. You know about my issues, Perez, and the fact that I'm still conscious is a testament to how worried I am about Ange. Uncuff me, dammit." He closed his eyes. "You can leave the collar on if you're afraid I'll wolf and go for you. I let Rafe off the chain wearing that, it'll choke me down in about five seconds flat."
Gritting his teeth, Perez unfastened the cuffs but left them on his wrists. "Now. Use that vaunted nose and tell me what happened here."
Sitting up, Ben rolled the feeling back into his shoulders. "How long was the wolfsbane on? My smeller is still dead."
"Not long. What do you remember?"
No way was Ben going to tell him that. The flash he'd gotten, out of context, painted a wholly damning picture of himself that Ben wasn't willing to take at face value--not yet, anyway. He assessed the elevator car like he would a battlefield. Himself, unconscious but basically undamaged--he felt as if he'd been drugged. Ange's blood, sprayed liberally over everything, including him. No drag marks going out the open door, or a blood trail either. That meant--
He didn't know what that meant.
Ben snapped awake to find the collar around his neck, his arms cuffed far too tightly behind him, and wolfsbane wrapped around his bare chest. How had he gotten covered in blood? Was that Ange's blood? In his mouth?
A fist in his hair lifted his head off the ground as the air left his lungs. "What did you do to her?" Perez, shouting at him, and he didn't actually know--
"I can't...I don't..." Elevator, he was in the elevator, surrounded by scattered groceries and spilled blood and beer. They'd gone on a supply run...
"Where is she?" Perez shook him. "Did you eat her?"
"What? Can't remember." His shoulders cramped. "Hurts..."
"What did you do? It looks like you took a fucking bath in her blood, wolf." Perez dropped him.
"I wouldn't hurt her." But his memory was gone, so maybe he had? The inside of his chest felt like it was on fire, the outside of his chest was seizing up because of the wolfsbane, and he couldn't think because of the incipient panic attack. "Perez, for god's sake, uncuff me, I can't breathe."
"Not on your life, not until you tell me what happened."
"I don't--"
A flash of memory, then. Ange, blood pouring from her throat, holding her hands out to him. Her lips moving with a silent "Puppy..." His clawed fingers, covered in red as she fell to the floor in slow motion.
Ben snapped awake to find the collar around his neck, his arms cuffed far too tightly behind him, and wolfsbane wrapped around his bare chest. How had he gotten covered in blood? Was that Ange's blood? In his mouth?
A fist in his hair lifted his head off the ground as the air left his lungs. "What did you do to her?" Perez, shouting at him, and he didn't actually know--
"I can't...I don't..." Elevator, he was in the elevator, surrounded by scattered groceries and spilled blood and beer. They'd gone on a supply run...
"Where is she?" Perez shook him. "Did you eat her?"
"What? Can't remember." His shoulders cramped. "Hurts..."
"What did you do? It looks like you took a fucking bath in her blood, wolf." Perez dropped him.
"I wouldn't hurt her." But his memory was gone, so maybe he had? The inside of his chest felt like it was on fire, the outside of his chest was seizing up because of the wolfsbane, and he couldn't think because of the incipient panic attack. "Perez, for god's sake, uncuff me, I can't breathe."
"Not on your life, not until you tell me what happened."
"I don't--"
A flash of memory, then. Ange, blood pouring from her throat, holding her hands out to him. Her lips moving with a silent "Puppy..." His clawed fingers, covered in red as she fell to the floor in slow motion.
An hour later, I'm sitting in the motor home and staring down a microscope at Mrs. Henderson's brain tissue in frustration. "There you are, you little bastard." This is what's killing my little girl, and I hate it with the visceral loathing of a man facing his own doom. It's not a virus or a bacteria, it's something I've never seen before, attacking nerve cells in clumps and turning them into something new and alien.
And I am wholly unequipped to do something about this.
Before I can take that thought to its logical conclusion, the motor home rocks. The windshield spiderwebs, then falls inward. I scoop up my reloaded shotguns and face the front of the coach as one of the neighbors tries to come in. "Haven't you people ever heard of knocking?" The gun roars, almost of its own volition, and the neighbor (oh, god, that was Greg, we just had a barbeque together less than two weeks ago) falls back onto the gravel with most of his skull gone. Fresh samples, my mind supplies hysterically even as his wife replaces him at the windshield, snarling and foaming.
I put her down too, but it takes two shots that I can ill afford.
Ears ringing, I check outside for any more neighbors gone zombie, but the cul-de-sac is quiet. Physical and emotional exhaustion weigh me down, and I sit in the driver's seat with my head on the steering wheel. "I can't do this," I whisper. "I can't."
An hour later, I'm sitting in the motor home and staring down a microscope at Mrs. Henderson's brain tissue in frustration. "There you are, you little bastard." This is what's killing my little girl, and I hate it with the visceral loathing of a man facing his own doom. It's not a virus or a bacteria, it's something I've never seen before, attacking nerve cells in clumps and turning them into something new and alien.
And I am wholly unequipped to do something about this.
Before I can take that thought to its logical conclusion, the motor home rocks. The windshield spiderwebs, then falls inward. I scoop up my reloaded shotguns and face the front of the coach as one of the neighbors tries to come in. "Haven't you people ever heard of knocking?" The gun roars, almost of its own volition, and the neighbor (oh, god, that was Greg, we just had a barbeque together less than two weeks ago) falls back onto the gravel with most of his skull gone. Fresh samples, my mind supplies hysterically even as his wife replaces him at the windshield, snarling and foaming.
I put her down too, but it takes two shots that I can ill afford.
Ears ringing, I check outside for any more neighbors gone zombie, but the cul-de-sac is quiet. Physical and emotional exhaustion weigh me down, and I sit in the driver's seat with my head on the steering wheel. "I can't do this," I whisper. "I can't."
Ben woke up lying on the floor on his side, his head resting on Angeline's leg. Her hand was stroking him lazily from waist to knee. She hadn't gotten him any clothes when he'd Changed back to human in his sleep, although the fact that her lap made a nice pillow was probably a factor. Maybe.
"Ange," he said, grabbing her hand.
"We can move to the bed if you'll be more comfortable there," she murmured.
"I can't--" The knot in his chest was back.
"You proved amply that you can." She didn't pull her hand away, instead rubbing circles on the back of his with her thumb. "Ben." And he was "Ben" now, not "puppy," or "Benji." "No one gets out of here. No one. All we can do is make the best of it."
"And I'm not going to live very long anyway, so I might as well get what I can while the getting's good?" He sucked in a breath through his teeth and moved onto the sofa. "My ethics aren't quite that...flexible. Just because I slipped once in a moment of weakness doesn't mean it'll be an ongoing thing." He put a throw pillow on his naked lap with a shaking hand.
She sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his stiff shoulders. "Janni's not dead," she admitted. "But you might as well be, to her. This is a life sentence. It can be as easy or as difficult as you make it."
He could feel himself slipping, again. "Ange, please don't. I'm not--" He stopped. He had no idea how to finish that sentence.
Ben woke up lying on the floor on his side, his head resting on Angeline's leg. Her hand was stroking him lazily from waist to knee. She hadn't gotten him any clothes when he'd Changed back to human in his sleep, although the fact that her lap made a nice pillow was probably a factor. Maybe.
"Ange," he said, grabbing her hand.
"We can move to the bed if you'll be more comfortable there," she murmured.
"I can't--" The knot in his chest was back.
"You proved amply that you can." She didn't pull her hand away, instead rubbing circles on the back of his with her thumb. "Ben." And he was "Ben" now, not "puppy," or "Benji." "No one gets out of here. No one. All we can do is make the best of it."
"And I'm not going to live very long anyway, so I might as well get what I can while the getting's good?" He sucked in a breath through his teeth and moved onto the sofa. "My ethics aren't quite that...flexible. Just because I slipped once in a moment of weakness doesn't mean it'll be an ongoing thing." He put a throw pillow on his naked lap with a shaking hand.
She sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his stiff shoulders. "Janni's not dead," she admitted. "But you might as well be, to her. This is a life sentence. It can be as easy or as difficult as you make it."
He could feel himself slipping, again. "Ange, please don't. I'm not--" He stopped. He had no idea how to finish that sentence.
Chambliss noted his friend's expression with mild amusement. Bickford really should, he thought, be used to things like this by now. "You can't be serious," Bickford said, on the other side of the mirror.
"I'm quite serious. The young man has one foot in an insane asylum and the other at the brink of a precipice. He needs to be pulled back from both, and there's none to do it but me."
Bickford ran a distracted hand through his hair, mussing it thoroughly. "But why? Your exile is nearly over, James. This would extend it another fifty years, at least, not to mention the physical toll. Don't tell me you've got attached to these people. They're barely people."
Chambliss smiled. "Oh, they're very much people. And yes, I've grown rather fond of this little family. Ben, in particular, reminds me of us, back when we had ideals."
"Back when we were young and naïve," Bickford snorted. "Look at us now. I'm playing both ends against the middle, trying desperately not to get caught. You're a bleeding butler in another dimension, keeping a rich playboy from breaking his neck in lunatic stunt after lunatic stunt. And now you're nursemaiding a sodding werewolf?"
"The wolves here are different from ours. Domesticated." He paused. "Mostly. And Alex Jarrett is far more than a rich playboy, else I'd have left his employ long ago."
Chambliss noted his friend's expression with mild amusement. Bickford really should, he thought, be used to things like this by now. "You can't be serious," Bickford said, on the other side of the mirror.
"I'm quite serious. The young man has one foot in an insane asylum and the other at the brink of a precipice. He needs to be pulled back from both, and there's none to do it but me."
Bickford ran a distracted hand through his hair, mussing it thoroughly. "But why? Your exile is nearly over, James. This would extend it another fifty years, at least, not to mention the physical toll. Don't tell me you've got attached to these people. They're barely people."
Chambliss smiled. "Oh, they're very much people. And yes, I've grown rather fond of this little family. Ben, in particular, reminds me of us, back when we had ideals."
"Back when we were young and naïve," Bickford snorted. "Look at us now. I'm playing both ends against the middle, trying desperately not to get caught. You're a bleeding butler in another dimension, keeping a rich playboy from breaking his neck in lunatic stunt after lunatic stunt. And now you're nursemaiding a sodding werewolf?"
"The wolves here are different from ours. Domesticated." He paused. "Mostly. And Alex Jarrett is far more than a rich playboy, else I'd have left his employ long ago."
"At least when you roast someone it's fast and clean." Her ruff flattened. "Also tastier, but that may be impolitic for me to say."
"No, no, go right ahead, why should you be any different from anyone else around here?" I slumped to the floor. "At least you say what you mean instead of pussyfooting around issues until I'm ready to scream."
"Don't judge all dragons by me. Some of them talk so much they'll make your head spin right off your shoulders with frustration."
"They want me to get married now! How am I going to get married with all this going on?" I lashed my tail. "How can I court a girl when I'm randomly leaving my body and switching consciousness with a bloody--excuse me, no offense--dragon?"
"Don't you like girls?"
"Oh, of course I like girls, they're very nice, but this is going to turn into politics again, because it won't do for me to marry just any girl, oh no. Not only must she be of royal blood, but the alliance must strengthen our ties to some other kingdom without sending the others into a tizzy because they were rejected."
"Dragon matings are much less complicated," she said sympathetically.
"Most human matings are as well. It's just when you get into royalty that it gets muddied up. Just once I'd like to dance with a girl at a ball and not worry that I'm making some sort of statement by doing it." I was venting to a dragon and should probably stop.
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