Changeling Moon (21 page)

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Authors: Dani Harper

BOOK: Changeling Moon
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Yet until the police could confirm the animal's identity, she couldn't tell anyone. Oh, she could, she supposed. But who would believe her? Zoey knotted both hands in her hair in frustration. Her family claimed that her psychic ability was a precious gift. Connor seemed to consider it a gift too. All her life she'd wished she could give the useless talent back, but never more than right now. Of course, reporting the news was a mere formality in a small community. News traveled faster on the grapevine than by any other means, and, by Monday morning, it was unlikely that there was anybody left in town who hadn't heard about the death of Al Menzie. The
Dunvegan Herald Weekly
had been a zoo all day. Reporters from surrounding communities hung out in the coffee room, making it impossible for staff to get a break from the constant questioning. The phone seemed to ring without stopping. Local residents stopped by too. Some people were merely curious, wanting to know if the newspaper staff “had heard anything yet.” Others had theories to offer, some sound, some bizarre. Ted Biegel had bodily removed the seventh or eighth person who had the temerity to bring up the word
werewolf
.
Zoey had decided against going to the Menzie farm herself. The RCMP had it cordoned off anyway. Instead, she assigned the sports reporter to drive out and take a basic shot of the farm site from the road. That was all that a tasteful small town newspaper had any business publishing anyway. There was no hope for an interview with officials either, not yet. The RCMP was being closemouthed until they concluded their initial investigation into “an unattended death.” Fish and Game might think it was an animal attack, but the last word would come from Lowen Miller. She wondered what it would be like for the gruff doctor to step into a coroner's role again. Would he feel as frustrated as she did? Had he and Bev also been trying to leave the big city violence behind them? Or would it simply be like putting on a familiar pair of shoes?
Maybe she could visit the Millers, ask them about it sometime. And while she was at it, maybe she could ask them about
lycanthropy
. That was the word she'd come up with after researching half the day on the Internet in between poring over financial papers in preparation for the Village Council's budget meeting that night. Although she'd be surprised if the councilors got around to discussing the budget at all. At the request of the mayor, the RCMP had promised to stop by and report what they could on the Menzie issue.
Lycanthropy. The belief that one can become a wolf.
Zoey had heard the word but hadn't known it was a medically-recognized condition, treatable with antipsychotic drugs. And it certainly seemed to fit Connor's wild story to a tee. Except that he had no other apparent symptoms, appearing to be a perfectly normal specimen of the human male in every other way. And an exceptional specimen in many ways. . . . For the hundredth time, Zoey's mind wandered happily to that subject until she yanked it back in angry frustration.
Damn you, Connor Macleod.
Things had been fine between them, great in fact. Hell, they were flat-out wonderful. So why did he have to get so weird on her? What was it that compelled him to tell her such crazy stories? Was he a compulsive liar? No instinct she possessed sent up any alarm bells at his words. To her way of thinking, that could only mean he believed his own story. It sure as hell wasn't a joke—one look at his face proved that—so what was his motivation?
She had no answers, just more pain than she'd ever known. This wasn't heartache, this was being sawn in two with a dull knife. How could she have come to love someone so much in such a short time? And Connor certainly seemed to feel the same way. Not only had he said he loved her, he'd declared his desire to marry her and even said the C word (although she wasn't terribly certain that she wanted children).
I love you but I turn into a wolf.
He was trying to be honest, he said. Honest about his mental condition? Did Connor realize he had a problem? If so, did he know what it was? Zoey had scoured the web for information on every mental disorder she could come up with. She even researched the phenomenon of multiple personalities (although she wasn't sure that applied if the other personality was an animal).
Lycanthropy
was the only thing that seemed to fit—and yet it didn't. Medically, lycanthropy was considered an offshoot of a larger problem such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, even clinical depression. Zoey wasn't a doctor, but surely she would have seen some sign of such things. Wouldn't she? Maybe she just hadn't known Connor long enough. Hell, she barely knew him at all.
Zoey held her head with both hands as a headache began to wale on the back of her head with the force of a two-by-four. A pair of tears slid down one cheek in quick succession, annoying her. There was no way she was going to cry. No way.
At least not here and not now.
Another tear defied her and she might have broken down completely except for a tiny detail that slid into her awareness like a note slipped under a door.
Jessie. Her friend had been convinced the saddleback wolf that stood over Zoey at the party had been protecting her. And didn't Jessie say to ask Connor about that? When Zoey had asked why, Jessie had simply said he knew a lot more about it than she did. The more Zoey thought about it, the more it seemed a very strange thing to say.
Exactly how much did Jessie know?
Slowly Zoey sat up. It was definitely time to visit the Finer Diner. She shut down her computer and was about to get up when the phone rang.
Crap.
It was after six o'clock, the office was officially closed, and she had a raging migraine, but pure reporter's reflex had her picking up the receiver anyway. The voice on the other end was low and gravelly.
“I know where to find the animals that killed Menzie.”
Great. Another wannabee tipster. “Who is this?”
“A musher has been crossing big malamutes with wolves and he can't control them. Very vicious.”
“Are you sure about this? Why haven't you gone to the police?”
“The police won't take me seriously, lady, because I drink a little too much. But this guy is keeping these animals near my farm and I'm afraid they'll get my horses. Meet me and I can tell you more.”
“You're going to have to tell me who you are.”
“Bernard.”
Bernard Gervais? Had to be. “Aren't you one of the guys that claimed to have seen a werewolf?”
His voice sounded almost contrite. “I was drinking that night, lady. I'm not drunk now. Come and talk to me. I can give you the whole story. I'm really scared for my horses.”
Zoey considered the fact that she didn't really know the man, had only seen him once. And he'd been drunk and raving about werewolves at the time.
“I'm sorry, I'm really busy. If you have something to say, you'll have to say it now.”
“I want you to Change when the moon clears the horizon.”
“Pardon me?”
“
Change.
When the moon is up. And then come find me.”
He laughed, a thick chortling sound that sent unexpected shivers down her spine. Zoey slammed the receiver. “Stupid drunk.” But she was shaking as she closed down her office and gathered up her things to leave.
Chapter Twenty
C
onnor held a newspaper in his hands, but his eyes weren't scanning the print. Instead they looked out over the page, as they had most of the day, studying everything within a block in either direction of the
Dunvegan Herald Weekly
, watching for the slightest sign that anything was amiss. Seeing nothing. Still, there was a gnawing in his gut that said something was wrong.
Hell, wasn't everything wrong? A rogue Changeling had started killing people and the Pack couldn't seem to find the bastard. His long-awaited mate was right there inside the newspaper building yet he was out here with his pickup truck doubling as a proverbial doghouse. It hadn't been boring, however. That damn reporter, Helfren, had made several appearances throughout the day. Mailing a letter. Drinking coffee. Window shopping. And every time, he was watching the office of the
Dunvegan Herald Weekly
just as intently as Connor was. A fact that made it difficult for Connor to resist cleaning the guy's clock. Especially when the vet had more than mere human impulses to resist. Deep within him, his inner wolf was growling long and low.
Luckily, Culley had been on the job. Connor had spotted him shadowing the reporter so cleverly that Helfren never noticed he was being tailed. Of course, Culley added his own flourishes to the task. Connor couldn't help enjoying it when a monstrous black dog knocked the reporter over by running between his legs. The huge animal had vanished before Helfren could regain his feet—but Lucinda Perkins and several members of the Dunvegan Neighborhood Patrol had rushed to help him. And stayed to grill him.
With Helfren under such close surveillance, Connor was free to watch the street, the alley, and the back and front entrances to the newspaper office. The
Herald
would be closing soon. Bernie could be anywhere, and he was just crazy enough to make a move on Zoey in broad daylight.
Connor turned a page of his newspaper as he glanced at his side view mirror. Culley and Bill were approaching the truck.
“I'm not in the mood for company,” warned Connor as his brother slid smoothly into the passenger seat beside him. Bill, too, ignored Connor's comment. The red-haired giant simply passed a steaming cup of coffee forward as he crammed himself into the rear seat of the pickup. Connor took the cup without looking, keeping his eyes on the newspaper building. The staff had started filing out at last. But the woman he most wanted to see hadn't yet emerged.
“So you and Zoey had a falling out?” asked Culley.
“How the hell would you know that?”
“Only that I found the North Star Animal Hospital shut down on a weekday with a cheery sign on the door for folks to take their emergencies elsewhere.”
“Maybe I'm busy.”
“Maybe you're miserable. I could feel the vibes from four blocks away. So since nothing else was likely to pull you two apart, I'm guessing you must have told her about your secret identity.”
There was no point in denying it. Culley was a prankster and often impulsive, but he was also smart and perceptive. And Bill, who was sitting silent in the backseat, was the best friend a guy could hope to have. Connor sighed. “Yeah, I told her what I was, and then I told her what she's going to become.”
Culley whistled long and low. “Christ, you gave it to her with both barrels?”
“Do you think I wanted to dump it on her like that? There are only sixteen days before the full moon. Just sixteen, Culley. I didn't have the luxury of breaking it to her gently.”
“Maybe not, but how the hell are you going to prepare her to be a Changeling if she's not speaking to you?”
Connor glared at his brother. “Why aren't you watching Helfren?”
“He got a sudden call from his buddies at Fish and Wildlife. Seems they found wolf prints all around their truck while it was parked outside their office.”
“You didn't—”
“Hey, it was time to create a distraction. Because we've got news, bro.”
“What news?” Connor watched Ted Biegel leave the office and stop to talk to someone on the street. Still no sign of Zoey.
Bill leaned his beefy arms on the back of the seat between the brothers. “Fitz called Jessie an hour ago—he looked at the body and it's plain that Bernie drank from the kill.”
“What?” The newspaper slid from Connor's fingers as the words sank in. Pack law forbade the harming of humans. Bad enough that Bernie had killed, but drinking human blood complicated everything. It was said to bring incredible power to the renegade who indulged in it—and complete madness.
Goddammit!
He pounded on the steering wheel. “Goddammit to hell!”
“Now we know why Bernie was able to outrun us the night of the barbecue,” said Culley. “It finally makes sense. And the bastard's stronger and faster than ever now, maybe stronger than any of us.”
“The night of—but Menzie hadn't been killed yet! Bernie pulled away from us like he was on wheels.” Puzzle pieces fell rapidly into place in Connor's mind.
Bill said it first. “We figure Menzie couldn't have been Bernie's first victim. He's killed before. He must have been a lot more careful; maybe he hadn't gone starkers yet and that's why no one found the bodies, but he's killed before.”
“Good Christ, I should have stopped him,” said Connor. “I could have stopped Bernie long ago, if only I'd—”
“If only you'd had a crystal ball? Don't even go there.” said Culley firmly, reading his brother's face. “You've got the gift of
farsight
but it doesn't tell you everything. You had no way of knowing what the old bastard was going to do.”
“I knew he'd killed livestock. I knew he was getting out of control.”
“As far as anyone knew, Zoey was the first human to be attacked. And you took action on it pronto.”
“Some action. I injected the bastard with fucking
water
.”
“Fine,” said Culley. “If you want to beat yourself up, go ahead. But at least save your energy and wait until we've dealt with Bernie.”
Connor's eyes hardened, the pale gray going storm dark. He'd deal with Bernie all right.
Personally.
“It's up to the Pack to deal with him,” Bill said, picking up Connor's vibes immediately. “Not any one Changeling. And knowing the rotter's been supercharged, no one should make the mistake of approaching him alone. It's a right good thing that Fitz warned us or one of us might have gotten killed as well.”
Connor could hear the sense in his friend's words, but it didn't change the way he felt. Or what he would do if he caught Bernie's trail. But he could agree about Fitzpatrick. Every member of the Pack felt lucky to have a Changeling heading the police detachment. It added another layer of security to their secret lives, but even Fitz wouldn't be able to help them if Bernie wasn't stopped soon. “Any clues?”
“Nope,” said Culley. “We searched the area all day for a trail, couldn't get even a hint of one. Jessie and Devlin are still out there, but they won't be for long.”
“Oh?”
Bill put his hand on Connor's shoulder. “Jessie's put the word out not to Change unless you have to, mate. There's been a swack of cops and volunteers beating the bushes with guns since noon, looking for something to shoot. There were wolf prints by the body. Big ones.”
Connor swore. “People are scared then.”
“Terrified is more like it. Fish and Wildlife called in a helicopter to search the area.” The big man's voice was quiet, subdued. “They didn't take tranquilizer guns, mate. Devlin was at the airstrip, tinkering on his plane when he saw them loading the rifles.”
“If we don't Change, it's going to make it a lot harder to hunt down Bernie, and until we do, the killing's not going to stop.”
“The bastard's right off the deep end, that's sure. I see you're prepared though.”
Connor caught Bill's eye in the rearview mirror, saw his friend look down at the floor where the .375 lay amid empty bottles of cattle vaccine. “Absolutely.”
Culley glanced into the backseat. His eyebrows went up but he didn't mention the rifle. “So, about Zoey. Is she okay?”
“As fine as can be expected. She's been at work most of the day.” Connor snorted. “Now ask me how
I
am. I just got a goddamn text message from her suggesting the name of a psychiatrist who specializes in lycanthropy.”
“They have shrinks for werewolves?” asked Culley.
“No, they have shrinks for people who
think
they're werewolves.”
“Oh. Well, shit.”
Bill shook his head. “Let me guess. She thought you were lying, trying to play mind games with her. Then she figured out you were sincere and concluded you were just plain loopy.”
Connor picked up the coffee and gulped it quickly without checking its temperature. He didn't care if he scalded his throat or not. The pain helped offset the ache in his heart. “That about sums it up.” He looked back at Bill suddenly. “How did you know?”
“Come on, mate, I was new to this game once too. When Jessie told me what she was, I just laughed—thought it was a big joke. Then she wouldn't let it go. I told her it warnt funny no more and when she kept it up, I got plenty mad. Figured she was making up some elaborate story so she could dump me.” The big man shook his head, remembering. “Then I felt sorry for her, her being so deluded and all.”
“So how did you get past it? How did Jessie convince you?”
“She Changed. Right there in my motel room.” Bill grinned at his friend. “Of course, I went more than a little crazy at first, mind you. Fainted dead away—and don't you ever tell no one that, mate! You either, Culley, or I'll have to kill you. Anyway, when I came to, Jessie was still a wolf, just lying there waiting for me to wake up. And then she played with me.”
“She what?”
“Played. You know, like a big dog, all puppy-like and cute until I wasn't afraid no more. And then she Changed back. I can't say as I was able to take it all in at once, but she kept Changing every time she was with me until I got used to it.”
Like a big dog.
Connor turned it over in his mind, remembering Culley's goofy dog act in the clinic office. The idea had possibilities—if Zoey was ever willing to let him within a mile of her. Suddenly he saw her shapely figure slip out the back door of the
Dunvegan Herald Weekly
. The sweep of her russet hair caught the fading light of the sun and his heart flared painfully within him, a burning ache that crept into his throat.
Mercifully, Culley and Bill were silent as they got out of the truck and disappeared into a nearby store. Connor watched as Zoey tossed her camera bag and an armload of papers into her old Bronco and drove off. Putting his own vehicle into gear, he followed.
 
Attending a municipal budget meeting wasn't on Zoey Tyler's list of
Ten Favorite Things to Do on a Monday Night
. Or any other night for that matter. As editor, she could have assigned one of the other reporters to cover the event, to write up the article explaining the rationale for the tax increases scheduled to be announced tonight. With the growing migraine sending sharp knives of pain in through her right eye and out through the back of her head, she
should
have assigned someone else. But her publisher had other ideas.
“The RCMP announced they're going to share what they know about Menzie with the mayor and her council tonight. I want a professional on this story, Tyler, and that means you. I need someone I can trust to keep a lid on the speculation. This newspaper reports facts, not fantasy.”
She hadn't needed to ask what he meant. Ted Biegel had made it his mission in life to protect the town from three things—the installation of parking meters, Sunday shopping, and most of all, rumors of werewolves. Notwithstanding the fact that those rumors were already flying thick and fast.
Despite the undercurrent of anticipation regarding what the police might say when they arrived, the meeting started like any other. The village secretary, Floyd Melnick, read off the minutes of the last meeting. Mayor Jenny Galloway called for approval of the agenda. The evening droned on. Zoey rubbed her head and tried to remember exactly when she could take another dose of painkillers. It was hard to focus her attention on the meeting. Heck, it was hard to focus her
eyeballs
. Nausea was starting to roil in her stomach from the migraine and she gritted her teeth, determined to hold on.
The council was debating the cost of snow removal and whether global warming would preclude purchasing a new plow before next winter when Sergeant Fitzpatrick finally entered the room. Dr. Lowen Miller was with him. Zoey was thankful when the mayor immediately cut off the discussion and invited the men to take the floor.

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