Victoria Nelson - Blood Trail Part 26

"Are you okay?""Sure." He ran a little bit ahead then came back, just to prove he was all right. "I've fallen farther than that."

Celluci slapped at a mosquito. "Is the pond far?" He pulled the squashed insect out of the hair of his arm and wiped the mess on his jeans.

"Nope." Three jumps proved that an overhanging branch was still too high and he moved on.

"Is it part of the farm?"

"Uh-huh. Grandpa had it dugged a gizillion years ago. When Mommy was little," he added, just in case Celluci had no idea how long a gizillion years was.

"Does Henry take you swimming?"

"Nah. I'm not allowed to swim at night 'less everybody's there."

"Isn't Henry ever here in the daytime?"

Daniel sighed and stared up at Celluci like he was some kind of idiot. "Course he is. It's daytime now."

"But he's asleep."

"Yeah." A b.u.t.terfly distracted him and he bounded off after it until it flew high up into one of the poplars bordering the path and stayed there.

"Why doesn't he ever take you swimming in the daytime.""Cause he's asleep."

"Just when you want to go swimming?"

Daniel wrinkled his nose and looked up from the bug he was investigating. "No."

The security guard at Fitzroy's building had already told Celluci that Henry Fitzroy seemed to live his life at night. Working nights and sleeping days wasn't that unusual but added to all the other bits and pieces - or to the lack of bits and pieces - it certainly didn't help allay suspicion. "Does Henry ever bring anyone with him?"

"Course. Brought Vicki."

"Anyone else?"

"Nope."

"Do you know what Henry does when he's at home?"

Daniel knew he wasn't supposed to tell that Henry was a vampire, just as he wasn't to tell about his family being werewolves. It was one of the earliest lessons he'd been taught. But the policeman knew about the fur-forms and he was a friend of Vicki's and she knew about Henry. So maybe he did, too.

Daniel decided to play it safe. "I'm not supposed to tell."

That sounded promising. "Not supposed to tell what?"

Daniel scowled. This grown-up was real dull, all he wanted to do was talk and that meant no fur-form.

Vicki had been lots more fun; she'd thrown sticks for him to chase. "You mad at Henry 'cause he's withyour mate?"

"She's not my mate," Celluci snapped, before he considered the wisdom of answering the question at all.

"You smell like she is." His brow furrowed. "She doesn't though."

He had to ask. "And what does she smell like?"

"Herself."

This is not the type of conversation, to have with a six-year-old,Celluci reminded himself as the path opened out into a small meadow, the pond s.h.i.+mmering blue-green in a hollow at the far end.

"Oh, boy! Ducks!" Daniel tore out of his shorts and raced across the field, barking shrilly, tail thras.h.i.+ng from side to side. The half dozen ducks waited until he was almost at the pond before taking wing. He plunged in after them, splas.h.i.+ng and barking until they were out of sight behind the trees then sat down in the shallows, had a quick drink, and looked back, panting, to see if his companion had witnessed his routing of the enemy.

Celluci laughed and scooped up the discarded shorts. "Well done!" he called. He'd felt a superst.i.tious p.r.i.c.kling up his spine when the boy had first changed, but it hadn't been able to maintain itself against the rest of the scene. Crossing the meadow, he decided to leave Henry for the rest of the afternoon and just enjoy himself.

"Is it deep?" he asked, arriving at the pond.

" 'Bout as deep as you near the middle," Daniel told him after a moment's study.

Over six feet was pretty deep for such a little guy. "Can you swim."

Daniel licked a drip of water off his nose. "Course I can," he declared indignantly. "I can dog paddle."

"Think we'll get this done by supper time?" Rose asked, scrubbing a dribble of sweat off her forehead.

"I didn't think Uncle Stuart gave us an option," Peter panted, leaning on the mallet. "He's sure been growly lately."

"In case you'd forgotten, the family's under attack. He has a good reason."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean he has to growl at me."

Rose only shrugged and started stomping the earth tightly around the base of the metal fence post. She hated the amount of clothing she had to wear for this - shoes, jeans, s.h.i.+rt - but fences couldn't be fixed in a sundress, especially not when every section seemed determined to support at least one raspberry bush.

"I mean," Peter clipped an eight-inch length of wire off the bale and began reattaching the lower part of thefence to the post, "everything you do, he snaps at you."

Everythingyoudo, you mean. Rose sighed and kept her mouth shut. She'd been feeling so strange herself lately, she certainly wasn't going to criticize her twin.

He squinted up at the sun, burning yellow-white in the late afternoon sky, and fought the urge to pant.

"What a day to be working outside. I don't believe how hot it is."

"At least you can work without a s.h.i.+rt on."

"So could you.""Not right next to the road."

"Why not?" He grinned. "There's never any traffic along here and besides, they're so little no one'll be able to see them anyway."

"Peter!"

"Peter!" he echoed, as she took a swing at him. "Okay, if you don't like that idea, why don't you trot back to the house and get us some water."

Rose snorted. "Right. While you lean on the fence and watch the world go by."

"No." He bent and picked up the brush shears. "While I clear the c.r.a.p from around the next post."

She looked from the post to her brother, then turned and started walking back to the house. "You better have that done ..." she warned, over her shoulder.

"Or what?"

"Or ... Or I'll bite your tail off!" She laughed as Peter cowered at their favorite childhood threat, and then she broke into a run, feeling his gaze on her back until she left the field and started down the lane.

Peter yanked at the waistband of his jeans. They were too tight, too constrictive, too hot. He wanted ...

Actually, he didn't know what he wanted anymore.

"This has been one h.e.l.l of a summer," he muttered, moving along the fence. He missed his Aunt Sylvia and his Uncle Jason. With the two older wer gone, it seemed like he and Rose had no choice but to become adults in their place.He suddenly wanted to howl but worked off some of his frustrations in hacking at the brush instead.

Maybe he should get a life outside the pack, like Colin had. He tossed that idea almost the instant he had it. Colin didn't have a twin and Peter couldn't imagine living without Rose beside him. They almost hadn't made it through grade eleven when cla.s.s schedules kept them apart for most of the day. The guidance counselor had no idea how close she'd come to being bitten when she refused to change things. She'd said it was time they broke free of an unhealthy emotional dependency. Peter beheaded a few daisies, working the shears like two-handed scissors.That's all she knew. Maybe if humans developed a little emotional dependency the world wouldn't be so f.u.c.ked up.

The sound of an approaching car brought him over to the fence where he could get a look at the driver.

The black and gold jeep slowed as it drew even with him, stopped a few feet down the road, then backed up spraying gravel. It was the same jeep that had been parked at the end of the lane Sunday morning when he'd gone to the mailbox to fetch Shadow. Hackles rising, he put down the shears and jumped the fence. Time to find out why this guy was hanging around.

Mark Williams couldn't believe his luck. Not only was there a solitary werewolf right up by the road where he could get to it, but it was one of the redheads. One of the young redheads. And in his experience, teenage any things could be easily manipulated into impulsive, reckless behavior.

Even in jeans and running shoes, the creature had a certain wolflike grace, and as Mark watched it jump the fence and start toward the car he became convinced that this was the other version of the animal he'd seen by the mailbox yesterday. The set of its head,the expression of wary curiosity, was, given the variation in form, identical.

He rolled down the window, having already determined how to take advantage of this chance meeting.

He'd always believed he did his best work off the cuff. "You one of the Heerkens?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"You may have noticed me around a bit lately."

"Yeah."

Mark recognized the stance. The creature wanted to be a hero.Well, keep your pants on, you'll get your chance. "I've, uh, had my eye on your little problem."

"What problem's that?"

He pointed his finger and said, "Bang. Hear you lost two members of your family this month. I have, uh ..." The sudden noise startled him, especially when he realized what it was. The creature was growling, the sound beginning deep in its throat and emerging clearly as threat. Mark pulled his arm into the car and kept one finger on the window control. No point taking unnecessary chances. "I have information that might help you catch the person responsible. Are you interested?"

Russet brows drew down. "Why tell me?"

Mark smiled, being careful not to show his teeth. "Do you see anyone else to tell? I thought you might want to do something about it."

The growling faded and stopped. "But ..."

"Never mind." Mark shrugged.Careful now, it's almost hooked. ... "If you'd rather sit safely at home while other people save your family. ..."He started to raise the window.

"No! Wait! Tell me."

Got him."My uncle, Carl Biehn ..."

"The gra.s.seater?"

The disgust in the interruption couldn't be missed. Mark hid a grin. He'd been about to say his uncle had seen something through his binoculars while bird-watching but hurriedly rewrote the script to take advantage of the prejudice of a predator for a vegetarian. Even if it did throw his uncle to the wolves. So to speak. "Yeah. The gra.s.seater. He's the one. But no one'll believe you if you justtell them, so meet mein his old barn tonight after dark and I'll give you the proof."

"I don't believe you."

"Suit yourself. But just in case you decide your family's worth a bit of your time, I'll be in the barn at sunset. I suppose you can tell your ... people anyway." He sighed deeply, shaking his head. "But you know that without proof they won't believe you - A gra.s.seater? Ha! - not any more than you believe me and if you don't come, you'll have missed your only chance. Not something I'd like to have on my conscience."

Mark raised the window and drove away before the creature had a chance to sort out the convolutions of that last sentence and ask more questions. A number of things could go wrong with the plan, but he was pretty sure he'd read the beast correctly and the risk fell within acceptable limits.

He glanced in the rearview mirror to see the creature still standing by the side of the road. Pretty soon it would convince itself that, regardless of the stranger's motives, it couldn't hurt to check out the proof. In the way of the young, it wouldn't bother telling anyone else, not until it was sure.

"Come on, save the world. Be a hero. Impress the girls." Mark patted the bundle of leg-hold traps on the seat beside him. "Make me rich."

Rose got back to the fence with the jug of water just as the dust trail behind the car began to settle.

She'd seen Peter talking to someone but hadn't been able to either see or smell who it was.

"Hey!" she called. "You standing in the road for a reason?"

Peter started.

"Peter? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He shook himself and came back over the fence. "Nothing's wrong."Rose frowned.That was a blatant lie. About to call him on it, she remembered the advice Aunt Nadine had given her when she'd mentioned Peter's recent moodiness."Let him have a little s.p.a.ce, Rose. It's hard for boys around this age." They'd never had secrets from each other before, but perhaps Aunt Nadine was right.

"Here." She held out the jug. "Maybe this will make you feel better."

"Maybe." But he doubted it. Then their fingers touched and he felt the light caress sizzle up his arm and resonate though his entire body. The world went away as he drank in her scent, musky and warm and so very, very close. He swayed. He felt the jug pulled from his lax grip and then the freezing cold splash of water over his head and torso.

Rose tried not to laugh. He looked furious but that she could deal with. "I thought you were going to faint," she offered, backing up a step.

"If we could change," Peter growled, tossing his head and spraying water from his hair, "I'd chase you into the next county and when I caught you I'd ..."

"You'd what?" she taunted, dancing out of his reach, suddenly conscious of a strange sense of power. If only she weren't wearing so many clothes.

"I'd ..." A rivulet of water worked its way past the waistband of his jeans. "I'd ... d.a.m.n it, Rose, that's cold! I'd bite your tail off, that's what I'd do!"

She laughed then, it was impossible not to, and the moment pa.s.sed.

"Come on." She picked up the mallet and headed toward the fence. "Let's get this done before Uncle Stuart bites both our tails off."

Peter grabbed the bale of wire and followed. "But I'm all wet," he muttered, rubbing at the moisturebeading the hair on his chest.

"Quit complaining. Mere moments ago, you were too hot."