Night Shift

Even with Mikhail I had sometimes frozen, despite his gentleness.

Saul froze too, a curious stillness, his warm hands flattened against my back and his face in my throat. I felt the hard prickle of a tooth through his lips, he'd paused right over my jugular.

Of course. That would be the most sensitive, most highly charged spot for a Were. The trust implied in letting his teeth near my throat was tremendous.

My fingers had turned to wood in the silky pelt of his hair.

My breath held itself as long as it could. He didn't move.

When I finally let the air free of my lungs with a small wounded sound, he stirred. Set me gently back on my feet, his arms still around me and my cheek pressed against his chest. The rumbling intensified, shaking through the cha

A safety I found I liked a little too much.

Cancel that. A whole lot too much. He was just a country-boy Were full of disdain and thinking he knew everything, looking down his nose at me for making a bargain that allowed me to fight better. If he wasn't an enemy, neither was he a friend.

Then why was he holding me? Why had he spent all day bumping into me, herding me around?

He'd saved me with my own knife.

Coherent thought returned. What the fuck just happened? My heart pounded against my ribs like an overcharged motor. Jesus Christy what the fuck is this? Weres don't… they never… I…

I couldn't even finish a sentence inside my own head.

His arms tightened briefly, squeezing my breath out. "You go change," he said finally, as if it was a foregone conclusion that I would. "I'll finish di

Smelling me. Taking me deep in his lungs, marking me in his memory. Weres did that while tracking, I knew. It was an oddly intimate thing, and I wondered what it meant.

I dredged real deep for something smart to say. I settled for spluttering. "What the fuck—"

"Jill." He gave me one dark look, shaking his hair down over his eyes and glaring. "Go get changed. I'm making you di

Stubborn endurance has always been enough for me—too much, sometimes. But this time my courage failed me. I fled the kitchen and headed for my bedroom, and by the time I got there the phone on my nightstand was shrilling.

I scooped it up. Please don't let it be Perry. "Yeah?"

"Kismet?" An unfamiliar male voice. "It's Clarke, from New York. You set us to do some digging about a disappeared 'breed named Cenci? Real blonde, lots of trouble?"

Relief curled inside me, hot and deep. It wasn't Perry. Of course, it could be bad news in its own right.

That's the trouble with being a hunter. Some days, it knocks the optimism right out of you.

"Yeah." I cleared my throat, repeated it. "Yeah, I did. Do you have anything, anything at all?"

"You won't believe this." Click of a lighter and a long inhale; Jonathan Clarke was a smoker despite being a hunter. You don't live long in this line of work without some kind of stress-reduction vice, I guess. "Her name's Cenci all right, but that's only half of it. Guess who her daddy is."

I just got almost killed and kissed by a Were. I think my threshold of disbelief is a lot lower than I started out tonight with. "I give up. Who?"

"Navoshtay Niv Arkady. Old Ark-and-Bark himself. There's more."

He's her father? The strength ran out of my legs. I sat down hard on the bed, the mattress squeaking faintly. Saul had made the bed, neatly, and I felt a moment's guilt at screwing up the pristine blankets.

This just keeps getting better. "Take it from the top, Jon. I'm listening."

Harp called in as I was scraping the last bit of grilled onions up from my plate. I snagged the phone with one hand, licking the fingers of my other hand clean and reaching down to yank at my boots. "Jill here."

"Jill, it's Harp. Glad you're home. Listen, I—"

"Clarke from New York called. I have an earful for you." Boy, do I ever.

"Save it to tell me in person. You and Saul need to hightail it down here. We've found what we think is the main nest."

My pulse quickened, my breathing shallowing out. Saul took the empty plate from my hand with a nod. He'd been quiet all through di

The fact that his cooking was good even for a Were was merely incidental. Just like the fact that I was a lot less shaky once I had some ballast in me.

"Where are you?" I must have sounded different, because the Were's eyebrows shot up, and he cocked his head. I saw this in my peripheral vision, unwilling to look directly at him.

She gave me the address—a house down on the south border of Ridgefield, the edge of my territory. "We're keeping the press off, but that won't last long. When can you be here?"

I did a few rapid mental calculations. It was a thirty-minute drive. "I'll be there in fifteen. Is Monty there? Get the ranking officer to tell the traffic detail I'm going to break a few laws and to get someone to cut traffic for me. How many bodies do we have?"

"Four for sure, but I'm not certain about anything else. There's sorcery here, Jill. I hope like hell you have some good news."

Sorcery meant something they needed a hunter to look at, something possibly deadly. I finished pulling my boots on. "News, yes. Good, no. See you soon." I smacked the phone down so hard I was faintly surprised the plastic didn't crack, and looked up to find Saul's eyes on me.

There was no time for talking about anything other than the current crisis. I am such a coward I was actually relieved, "Saddle up, furboy. Let's roll."

Chapter Nineteen

The Impala's engine cut off, its full-throated purr ceasing and the ticking of cooling metal taking its place. Saul managed to work his fingers free of the dashboard, and gave me a look qualifying as sardonic. "You're a menace," he said flatly, but I was already unbuckling myself. The windows were down all the way, and the sudden cessation of wind-roar was shocking.

"What, you don't like riding with girls in cars? I thought out on the Rez that was the main form of entertainment." And having a touch of precognitive ability does help in traffic, you know. I opened my door and stepped out into a predawn hush full of grayness. Prickling filled the air. We would have an autumn thunderstorm before long, the heat was already becoming close and dense.

"Riding I like. Committing suicide by automobile I don't." He actually did seem a little green, and that cheered me up immensely. He fell into step behind me.

The street was quiet and residential, with a few lush greenbelts taking advantage of the river's proximity. I habitually calculated angles of cover as we walked toward the flashing reds and blues, yellow crime-scene tape fluttering as they roped off the entire yard. Forensics was out in force, and I saw three white coroner's vans.

Christ. The banter wasn't easing my nerves. "You're still alive, aren't you? I hope you didn't leave fingermarks in my dash."

He was again way too close to me, almost bumping me as we walked along, perfectly coordinating his steps with mine. "Next time, I drive."

I don't think so. "Dream on. Nobody drives my baby but me."

"Your baby?" Again, that faint tone of grudging admiration.

I ran my tongue along the inside of my teeth, wishing my cheeks weren't flush-hot. What was the matter with me?