Jillian was about to reply but her voice suddenly caught in her throat. An enormous wolf had appeared in the doorway. It filled the doorframe for a long moment, then stepped cautiously into the room at Birkie’s beckoning wave.
“Birkie!” she managed to whisper as she grabbed her friend’s arm and held it tightly. “It’s as big as my wolf. My God, there’s more than one.”
“Oh yes. Quite a few, actually. These two are brothers.”
Jillian goggled briefly at her friend, but had to turn her eyes back to the newcomer. It turned slightly, and she could see the silvery pelt was marked with a blanket of black over the shoulders—a saddleback pattern that was rare in wolves. Birkie extended a hand to it, and the huge creature trotted over immediately to lie at their feet. Jillian swallowed hard, opened her mouth to speak, closed it again.
“Here, you can pet him if you want to. He’s mostly tame.” Birkie rubbed the dark wolf behind the ears.
Jillian reached over to offer a hand to the handsome creature when she got a good look at its eyes. They weren’t green but gray. Pale gray. For an instant she felt she was on the verge of remembering something. Then whatever it was eluded her, leaving her strangely disappointed. “He has really unusual eyes for a wolf,” she managed.
“Yes, he does. So does your wolf, doesn’t he?”
“Well, yes. It’s one of the things that I can’t explain. Wolves don’t have blue eyes. Yellow eyes, brown, sometimes green. But not blue. And not gray either. It’s like a whole new subspecies.” The wolf touched its nose to Jillian’s hand, licked her fingers, then bumped its head under them to be petted. “He seems to be just as friendly as my wolf, too.” She sighed, shook off her fascination with the new animal and turned to her friend. “This is one hell of a secret you’ve been keeping. Why? Why didn’t you tell me about this? After everything I confided in you about the white wolf, you couldn’t mention you already knew about him, that you had a wolf, too?”
“Oh, he’s not my wolf, hon, he’s a friend. They’re both good friends. And because of that, I wasn’t free to tell you about them. I told you once that I keep confidences and I do.” Birkie spoke to the dark wolf then. “I think you’d better show her now.”
The wolf rose and trotted a few yards away.
“What does this have to do with James? Where is he?” Suddenly Jillian’s scalp prickled strangely. She touched her hair and was surprised to find it standing straight up. She ran a hand through it, felt it crackle and snap with static. “What the—” She looked at Birkie. Her friend’s hair was always perfectly styled, but there were stray hairs unwinding themselves now, and all of them were drifting upward.
A cold draft gusted through the room, and a shiver ran through Jillian from neck to tailbone. She glanced around for the source but the windows were closed and only a hallway lay beyond the door. The loft door was high above and behind her, but the breeze wasn’t coming from there. It was coming from—
The dark wolf. Tiny bits of straw and hay were eddying around the floor, slowly at first, then faster. They swirled about the wolf, and blue sparks snapped and popped in the air.
I’ve seen all this before. But that was—
Without any warning, the big animal was gone and in its place stood Connor Macleod. He looked just as he usually did, with his denim shirt and torn jeans, and his hands resting in the pockets of a rumpled lab coat. The breeze died away. A few blue sparks crackled in the air, fell to the concrete and went out.
Stunned, Jillian felt as if her brain had winked out as well, as if a fuse had blown. Her mind was blank for a long moment, then it was suddenly bombarded with an avalanche of thoughts and ideas, all coming together at once. Bill’s words. The vision in the loft. The wolf in her apartment. The stories she had read, the legends she had studied.
Brothers
, Birkie had said, the dark wolf and the white wolf. Gray eyes—and
blue
.
She put her hands to her head, held on tight as it threatened to explode. Then the thoughts converged, neatly, like streams feeding into a river. They merged, melded, flowed smoothly and effortlessly into a whole. Jillian put her hands down, drew a deep breath. Another. Put her shaking hand on the white wolf’s broad forehead, stroked it gently, let calmness and peace fill her until she was steady and could open her eyes.
“Are you okay?” It was Connor. Birkie was looking at her, too.
“Is that a trick question? A wolf just turned into my boss right in front of me, my boyfriend turns out to be a wolf I’ve known for years, and I’m supposed to be okay?” Jillian laughed a little, ran her hand through her hair. “Actually, a lot of things make sense now, and that’s what scares me. It’s a good thing to be worried about being crazy, though, isn’t it? Like if you think you might be insane, you’re really not?”
“You’re not crazy, not at all.” Birkie slid an arm around her and squeezed. “In fact, you’re doing just great, honey. Give yourself some time. It’s a lot to take in, a lot to get used to.”
Jillian shook her head in wonder. “Oh God, it feels like I woke up on another planet. A few moments ago, werewolves lived only in movies and books. Now they’re real. And I can barely believe I said that.” She looked up at Connor. “You were using Devlin’s blood last night because he’s a werewolf, too, isn’t he?”
“A Changeling, yes. Our whole family. Bill and Jessie. Fitzpatrick. A few others.”
“Fitzpatrick? Sergeant Fitzpatrick? You’re telling me that the head of our local RCMP detachment is a werewolf?” Although why that should be any more shocking than the rest, she didn’t know.
“Changeling,” Connor corrected. “Yes, Fitz is a Changeling just like the rest of us.”
“Changeling.” She tried out the word. “Well, at least it sounds a little less Hollywood than
werewolf.
” Jillian turned to Birkie then. “Is everyone in town a Changeling? Are you a Changeling too?”
Birkie smiled and shook her head.
“Well, that’s a relief. I was starting to feel like the only human left.” Jillian looked down at the wolf as she stroked its ears. The blanket was rising and falling steadily now; she didn’t have to strain to see if he was breathing.
He. The wolf. James.
Cold fear abruptly squeezed her heart. “I think . . . I think I’d rather believe that James left me than believe that he’s lying here hurt like this. Is he going to be okay?”
“I can’t promise anything,” said Connor. He checked the white wolf’s vitals, then laid a hand on her shoulder. “I wish I could, but you’re a vet. You saw the damage for yourself, and you can guess that James isn’t out of the woods yet. Ask me again in forty-eight hours, ask me when he wakes up. He’s stable right now; we’re all hoping and praying he stays that way.”
He was right. As a vet, it was exactly the prognosis she’d give, but it still hit her hard. The wolf could die, and she’d already shed plenty of tears at the thought of losing her lupine friend. But to never see James again . . .
Dear God.
She shoved the terrifying thoughts to the back of her mind, slammed the door on them tight. Tried to focus outside herself. Thought about Connor—what had it been like to have to operate on a family member?
A family member.
Jillian thought of the others who had been in the operating room, and realized she wasn’t the only one scared to death.
Chapter Thirty-three
H
is hand on the white wolf’s broad forehead, Connor’s eyes were closed. He sat perfectly still as if listening. Long minutes passed before he finally looked up. “I can’t reach him. I’ve tried and tried since this happened, but I can’t seem to connect with him.”
At Jillian’s puzzled expression, Birkie leaned over and whispered, “Telepathy, dear. Most Changelings can talk to each other in their minds.”
“Of course they can.” Jillian felt as if she’d just slipped a few notches further down the proverbial rabbit hole.
Can they fly, too?
Connor continued. “James may need help finding his way back to us. If you talk to him, it could help.”
“You mean he’s in a coma?”
“Not in human terms. He’s not only inside the wolf’s body, but he could be locked in the wolf persona as well,” said Connor. “For all intents and purposes, he is a wolf. And James needs to be reminded he’s human. It’s the human side we need to connect with. He’ll listen to you. You’ve got a powerful connection to both the wolf and the man.”
“What do I say?”
“Anything at all,” Birkie explained. “The sound of your voice might give him something to latch onto. Like a lifeline.”
“And then he’ll wake up? Will he be himself, I mean, will he be human then?”
“No. But just waking up would be a hell of a lot of progress,” said Connor. He looked like he was about to say more, but shook his head and abruptly left the room.
Birkie hugged Jillian. “I imagine you’d like a little time to yourself, honey. We’ve dumped a lot of information on you. I’ll bring you some lunch in a while, answer more questions if you have them. I imagine you’ll have a lot. Are you okay for now?”
“Yeah, I’m mostly fine. Thanks.” She put on a brave face, managed a smile even as emotions surged through her. But as soon as Birkie left, the tears began to fall and this time she didn’t try to stop them. Some were out of relief, and some were out of fear. Eventually they slowed enough to let her find her voice. “They tell me you’re in there somewhere, James,” she said to the wolf, stroking its ears, its face. “I’m scared to believe it and scared because I
am
believing it. I need you to come back to me and help me understand it all. I’m pretty lousy at asking for help, James, but I’m asking now. Come back to me and help me sort this out, because I’m worried I’ve gone crazy. I’m scared the concussion has hurt something in my head and I’m delusional. Or maybe being pregnant has affected my brain.” The tears started again, and she knotted her hand in the wolf’s thick mane, held onto it as if she was dangling from a cliff and it was the only thing left to hang onto.
“What I’m most afraid of is that you’re gone. You know I love you, James, but you don’t know how much.
I
didn’t know how much. And I’m so scared it’s too late and I won’t get to tell you face-to-face just how much you mean to me. I really want to build that life with you. Come back to me.”
Deep within the wolf, a faint awareness stirred. James struggled against the thick gray haze that seemed to blanket his mind. Pain was on the other side of the fog, searingly bright, waiting to stab at him. And he was tired, more tired than he’d ever thought possible. Exhaustion pressed down on him like a weight. A stray thought surfaced that he must be still alive. Surely he couldn’t be this damn tired if he was dead.
Someone was talking to him. A woman. He should know her, she was important. Green eyes. He knew she had green eyes, so he should know who she was, shouldn’t he? He worried at the puzzle for a few moments, then let it be. Just listened to the soothing, pleasant voice, felt it stroke his mind with familiar fingers. Listened until the dull waves of oblivion began to pull him under again.
No.
He couldn’t let himself fade out, he had to find this woman. Somehow, everything would be all right if he could just find her . . . if he could just find. . . .
Jillian! I’ve got to get to Jillian!
Memories flooded back like an inrushing tide. James had been in the clinic’s lunchroom, putting together a meal for two. He’d had his head in the fridge when the most god-awful fear had gripped him by the throat. Fear for
her
. He raced for the apartment but she wasn’t there, wasn’t anywhere. The sense of danger screamed along every nerve he had; the wolf within snapped and snarled
. The wolf will know where she is. It always knows where she is.
Instantly he’d called the Change, given the wolf its head. And the wolf had wheeled and raced for the back door with all the power and speed at its command, hurled itself through the narrow window in an explosion of metal and glass.
He’d barely touched the pavement when James caught sight of the gun trained on the woman he loved. His heart stuttered for a single beat. And then he bounded across the heated pavement, leapt with bared fangs. . . .
Then what?
He wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. He’d been injured, probably shot, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he must have been in time, James and his wolf together, they must have been in time to save Jillian. She was alive, he could hear her, sense her, feel her, right here next to him. She was all right. And the child within her, his child, must be all right too. Safe. All safe. James relaxed into the wonder of it, his heart satisfied, peaceful. He focused contentedly on Jillian’s voice, listened to her words.
“—please come back to me, James. I miss you and I’m so confused. They tell me you’re in there somewhere but I can’t feel you. I need you to come back and explain all this to me, make it make sense—”
Wait! I’m right here.
He had never heard Jillian sound so lost, so sad. Not since the wolf had found her on the trail all those years ago. With a start, James realized he was in wolf form now too. He shouldn’t be, he should have Changed—unless he couldn’t.
Just how bad am I hurt?
He turned inward then, felt carefully along the edges of his awareness where gray fog hid the bright lines of pain. Followed those lines to their source and discovered his shoulder to be all but missing.
Again?
Good Christ, it had taken months to recover last time and this wound felt even worse. But he hadn’t been trying then, couldn’t have cared less if he lived or died last time. Now, he not only wanted to heal, he wanted to be human again. He had to get to Jillian, had to reach her, talk to her. Hold her.
Especially
hold her. But there would be no Changing with this kind of injury. A Changeling had considerable regenerative powers, but they could be accessed only in wolfen form. Not only that, his lupine side would not permit him to Change. Period. The wolf was devoted to James’s survival and all energy would be funneled into healing.
Meanwhile, Jillian needed him, and here he was lying down on the job.
Not for long, he decided. If the only way he could comfort the woman he loved was by licking her face and wagging his tail, he was damn well going to do that much. Slowly, tentatively, James began the long agonizing climb through the haze toward consciousness.
The full moon silvered the rocks on Elk Point, touched the tips of the trees with sterling. Not to be outdone, the stars blazed overhead in a deep velvet blue canopy. Jillian wrapped her arms around her knees and allowed herself, just for a moment, to forget everything except the vivid beauty of the night. She drank it, breathed it, drew it into her lungs as if she couldn’t get enough, drew it into her soul. There was a harmony here that spoke to her deeply, that she had missed in the past few years in the eastern city. Missed without even knowing what it was she was missing. The work at the clinic fed her mind. The northern countryside was unexpectedly feeding her spirit, comforting it.
Coming here seemed to be good for the white wolf too. She looked down at the magnificent animal stretched out on a rock beside her, his snowy coat glowing in the moonlight.
James. James is in there.
She reminded herself of that often, although her wolf still felt like, well, a wolf. The massive creature might have eyes that were the same shade of Viking blue as James’s eyes—but she couldn’t see James behind them. Her throat tightened with grief even though James wasn’t dead. At least, everyone said he wasn’t dead, that he was right there inside the wolf. But she couldn’t feel him there.
Blue eyes looked up at her, and the wolf nudged her arm with its nose. Jillian complied, putting an arm around his neck so he could lay his massive head in her lap.
There won’t be much room for that soon.
She wondered if the wolf knew about the baby. She wondered if James remembered the baby, or her, or anything at all. Was he thinking as a wolf or as a man?
I should be grateful he’s alive at all. I should just be glad for that.
After surgery, it had been four whole days before the wolf awakened. Four long, terrible days when she didn’t know if he would live or die, if she would lose both her beloved wolf and the man she loved. She had watched over him, night and day. And on the fifth day, she had awakened to a large pink tongue licking her face.
Things had been better then. She talked to the wolf endlessly as she cared for him, although she still couldn’t think of him as James. The handsome creature seemed to pay attention to every word, was even more affectionate than before. Sometimes she heard its voice in her mind, reassuring her that she wasn’t alone. But it was never more than a few stunted words, it wasn’t really James’s voice—did the wolf have its own personality, separate from the man?—and it didn’t diminish the pain of missing James. She still felt a great calm when she was near the wolf, but there was sadness underneath, an ache that never went away no matter how hard she fought it.
While he could offer no guesses as to when her James might return, Connor had been right about the incredible regenerative powers of Changelings. The white wolf’s shoulder was largely intact now, healed from the inside out. The gaping wound had closed over recently, but not before Jillian saw that fresh bone and joint and tendon had replaced the broken and the missing.
Exercise was the best medicine then. Small amounts at first, slow circles around the clinic before and after closing time, until the injured leg would bear the creature’s weight. Then longer walks outside. Always at night of course. The presence of a giant white wolf at the North Star Animal Hospital would raise eyebrows if not alarms. Lately, as the wolf’s limp became less pronounced, Jillian had been driving out to the riverside trails below Elk Point. It was still a covert operation. The wolf hid under a blanket in the back of the truck, and they could go only at night. Occasionally Connor had accompanied them, sometimes Birkie. But most nights she preferred to walk alone with the white wolf. And every night she wished she was walking with James.
She swiped at her eyes with her sleeve.
This whole werewolf thing is really getting on my nerves.
For a human being, she thought she’d been pretty damn patient, accepting of the impossible, understanding of the bizarre. She’d seen not just Connor but the other members of his family Change into wolves several times now, had met all the members of the Pack and gotten to know their stories. It had been fascinating at first, especially to a veterinarian. But right now she was just a woman who needed her man’s arms around her. And she had no idea when that would happen—or if.
“Damn,” she sniffled. It was getting much too easy to feel sorry for herself. She pushed the sadness back, imagined packing it into a box and mailing it to Antarctica. It didn’t really work, nothing worked, but it distracted her a bit. After all, James wasn’t dead. He was alive somewhere, and she should be glad for that. She was determined to try to stay positive, both for herself and the baby. But it was harder every day.
The wolf nudged her arm, sat up next to her, dwarfing her. She leaned against the thick soft fur, felt the wolf’s tongue on her forehead. He pushed her again with his nose, leapt down from the rock and trotted away. Perhaps he was getting a drink. The wolf was often restless lately, a good sign that he was recovering fully.
Jillian watched the moon’s reflection glimmer in the river below. The night was warm and dry, and she considered sleeping right here in the circle of stones. She’d be warm enough next to the wolf, and certainly safe.
Without warning, a blast of wind surged out of nowhere, whipped leaves around her, chilled her. She yanked the edges of her jacket together, but the icy current of air had already ceased.
What on earth was that? Wind sheer? A micro burst?
She glanced up at the stars and froze. One seemed to be moving, falling—and suddenly she realized it wasn’t a star at all, but a spark. A tiny blue spark. It drifted down and landed on the rock beside her, sizzled the edge of a dry leaf and winked out.
“Jillian.”
She whipped around to see James standing in the stone circle. Her heart caught in her throat and she began shaking. “Are you real?” she managed at last.
In answer, he opened his arms and she ran to him.
“You’re alive, oh God, you’re alive, you’re back, you’re here, omigod please tell me you’re really here,” she sobbed out as she was enfolded in the familiar strength, the heat. She breathed him in, smelled him, tasted him with frantic kisses, ran her hands over every part of him she could reach.