Dani Harper - First Bite

I ought to be able to steady a Buick with it. The jack for her car wasn’t as solid as the thick cane that Fern parked beside the bed. As utilitarian as an army jeep, it was made of plain gray metal, but any hope it had for a neutral appearance had been utterly compromised by its four heavy-duty rubber feet.

Neva slid some of her weight off the bed. The broken leg throbbed, and she leaned on her right foot. Now what? She was unsure of herself, but Fern had obviously been around this block before.

“Put your hand here. Hang on to me like this. Let me take some of your weight.”

“You sound like my dance instructor,” said Neva.

“A little two-step music and we’d be all set. Ready?”

One moment Fern was bracing her, and the next, she was standing. As her weight settled onto her feet, she straightened and couldn’t help stretching just a little bit. Instantly, pain threatened to break through the buffer of the medication, but Neva could sense that she had improved just since she’d awakened. In any other situation, it would have been great news. But she knew the rapid healing was caused by the animal entity that was threatening to take her over, so her emotions were a toss-up between depression and stark fear.

Fern chattered as they “waltzed” a few steps, and then Neva used her good right hand to lean on the cane instead of clinging to the nurse. Thankfully, it was every bit as solid as it was ugly. And there were other things to be grateful for. Her leg cast was long, from thigh to ankle, but it didn’t encompass her foot. She might be stiff-legged, but at least she was level. She could walk—okay, it was more like a bad zombie shuffle. But a visit to the bathroom on her very own (Fern being right outside the door notwithstanding) proved that she was ambulatory, she could get around. And if she could do that, she could escape. But first she was going to sit down—no, better make that lie down, for just a little while.

The hospital stank .

Barely inside the front doors, Travis shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to clear it. A human would only smell disinfectant, which was bad enough. A Changeling smelled everything the disinfectant was supposed to hide. Topping the list of aromas were blood and urine, but emotions had a scent, too, and the acrid tang of fear was the strongest. It set his teeth on edge. Under normal circumstances, both his human and wolfen selves would have voted to leave this place as fast as possible.

He sighed and tried to focus on the job at hand, which was figuring out just where the woman was in the enormous building. Travis had no name, just a vague description based on what his natural night vision could tell him about her. Still, as a Changeling he had everything he needed in order to find someone: a scent. As with all things olfactory, his inner wolf had automatically filed it away. Memories could fade; the way someone looked or sounded could become fuzzy over time. But scents? They were never forgotten.

Travis followed the signs to the emergency ward, where he knew the woman would have been brought first. It was a tough place to pluck a specific scent out of the air, especially one that was already two days old. His wolf chuffed in disgust as it fought to sort out the tangle of smells. It came out like a human cough, and a nurse commented cheerfully on the dryness of the air as she hurried by.

Finally the wolf found what it was looking for. Here.

Travis inhaled, and the wolf helped his human nose to perceive the woman’s scent. Light and airy yet spicy and warm, like wild roses after a rain…Travis started walking quickly. Trailing a scent always seemed to him as if he were trying to follow a single thread out of a vast conduit of fibers—like maybe a transatlantic cable. It would have been a helluva lot easier in lupine form, of course, but that option wasn’t open. All he could do was give his inner wolf its head and let it guide him.

Which worked until the elevator doors shut in front of his face.

Now what? What floor would she be on? Luckily, visiting hours were in full swing, and Travis was quickly joined by several humans. Several averted their eyes, however, and a few shrank away. Between his motorcycle leathers and his size, he probably looked like a badass to them. Normally that would be fine with him, but it wasn’t going to help him today. He whipped his sunglasses off in hopes of appearing less intimidating, barely remembering in time to wipe the frown off his brow, too. “Excuse me,” he said politely to an administrative-looking guy in a suit. “Where’s the orthopedic ward?” It was a flat-out guess, but it was a place to start. “Mom said my cousin’s in here with a broken leg, but she couldn’t remember the room number.”

“Adult? Probably on the fourth floor, south wing. Hope your cousin gets better soon.”

“Me too. Thanks.”

Several people got off at four, and he followed them. The wolf picked up the scent immediately, but beelining was out of the question. Both visitors and patients thronged the hallway. Travis shortened his steps so he wouldn’t run over a convoy of wheelchairs. Several flower arrangements sat on a cart just outside a room, and he scooped up one as he went by and tucked it in front of him without missing a beat. No one noticed. The hallway branched into two at the nurses’ station, and he smiled at the clerk behind the circular desk as his inner wolf steered him to the left.

This hall was crowded, too, and he hugged the east wall as he made his way through the people. Tripped on an IV pole and apologized to an older man in a plaid bathrobe. Still, the woman’s scent was getting stronger, and Travis knew he was close. Then he spotted his quarry through the open door on the opposite side of the hall. He expected his wolf to be pleased with itself (it was always terribly self-satisfied after a successful hunt), but this time it was full-out triumphant. For a strange moment his human brain reeled, too, and Travis had to shake his head to clear it. Weird. Clearly his senses were just overloaded after tracking her through this olfactory nightmare.

Hidden by the tide of visitors and patients between him and the door, he watched her for a few moments. She was in an armchair, beside the bed rather than in it, which meant she was healing up fast, even for a Changeling. The long, faded blue bathrobe was hospital issue, but he liked the look of her dark-brown hair tumbling over it. Her face was pale in comparison with vivid freckles that marched up and over her nose and across her cheekbones. Her eyes were not just dark brown, but the deep color of rich coffee. Pretty eyes—but even from here he could see the desperation in them.

“Come with me if you want to live.”

Neva stared at the enormous hand the stranger extended to her. Her gaze followed the black leather–clad arm up to the massive shoulders, the strong jaw, and the thick lock of wavy blond hair hanging over his dark glasses. “You have so got to be kidding me,” she said.

He shrugged. “I always wanted to say that line. Except I’m not kidding.” With his other hand, the big stranger plunked a flower arrangement of purple irises and orange chrysanthemums on the bedside table. He yanked the tiny card off it and stuffed it into his jeans pocket, but not before she read, To our valued employee, Bob.

“You stole somebody’s flowers ?”

“Camouflage.” He opened and closed the drawers and closet. “No clothes left, huh? Guess you’ll have to come as you are.”