My Big Fat Supernatural Honeymoon

"All right. You just rest, honey." She mimed patting Kat's naked shoulder, just touching the air over the skin. One of the sundress's straps had torn free. Kat crossed her arms over her breasts, hugging herself. Rolling around in the dirt had streaked all over the white cotton, and rose thorns had lacerated a fair bit of her back and shoulders. I couldn't wait to get her into a bathtub and wash the grime off.

First things first, though. I peeled up Kat's lip and checked her teeth. Poked at the gums over the canines with one nail. When she didn't cringe or cry out, I relaxed a little bit. Then I checked her pupils—no vacillation, and her heartbeat was normal, pounding with stress but not stuttering like it would be if the infection had taken hold in her bloodstream.

The first fifteen minutes after a bite are crucial. I picked up the half glass of water left over from Miz Evans's ministrations and whispered a bit of bastard Latin over it, breathed on the surface until it rippled, and held it to Kat's lips. She drank without demur, and there was no scorching where the water met her lips.

Merciful Sun, thank you. That was too goddamn close. "We're leaving. Tomorrow morning. Dawn, if not sooner." I didn't sound like myself. "Talk to me, sweetpea."

"My head hurts." She didn't sound like herself either. Kat blinked, and sense flooded her eyes. A little bit of color came back into her cheeks. "It bit me?"

"It did. I killed it, and you're not showing any signs of infection." She wasn't at a very high risk—the bite was just a glancing scrape of teeth, because I'd torn the fucking thing off her and killed it immediately; her immune system wasn't compromised and the Argentum probably had her on a course of garlic shots as well as the silver treatment to stave off infection. "You're clean, Kat. It's all right." The words cracked halfway.

"You don't sound convinced." Her eyes rolled up into her head and snapped back down. She reached up, pressed her fingers over mine, keeping the ice hard against the lump on her forehead. "Hurts. Need my mugwort."

"In a second." As soon as I'm sure you're all right.

"What's our story?" she whispered.

"Stray dog."

Amazingly, a pale grin lit her wan face. Her legs were covered in a mass of scratches and claw marks, blood and mud marked the chintz slipcover underneath her. "That's a good one, Fido."

"Ha ha." I tried to feel relieved and failed miserably. "Sit still."

"I want my mugwort."

"In a second." I heard car wheels crunching gravel, tensed, and made myself relax muscle by muscle. "We have to talk to John Q. Law."

"Crap." She blinked, a bit more sense coming back into her baby blues. "You look awful."

I felt halfway to awful, mostly because I'd torn something in my leg. One Sunru

Which led me down some very interesting mental roads, in between checking Kat's breathing and looking at the blood drying on her face.

An engine cut off outside the bed and breakfast, and for a moment I was horribly aware of how alone we were. We were traveling off-season, and there was nobody in the whole bed-and-breakfast but us. The isolation had seemed charming when we'd arrived.

Now I just felt exposed and more than a little weak-kneed.

Footsteps on the porch. A knock, brief and courteous. Mrs. Evans came bustling out of the kitchen as the screen door opened and a wide, portly gentleman in a Sam Browne belt and dun uniform hove into view. He took off his hat, straggles of loose hair combed across the high dome of his skull, and I restrained the tingling in my arms and legs. I was already hairy enough; I didn't need to change right here to add to the fun. Small, close-set, deep-buried eyes met mine, and I took an immediate dislike to Harv the sheriff.

After all, he stank of bloodsucker. Half-moons of sweat spread under his arms, but the creases in his uniform were still starch-sharp. His skull glistened with sweat.

"Well, there, Miz Evans." A thin rolling voice, reedy enough to be a surprise from such a hefty man, whistled out. "What have we here?"

"Stray dog." Evans set the fresh glass of water down and flapped her doughy handsjet beads clicking. She edged away from the sheriff, probably noticing the smell on a subconscious level. "Attacked one of my guests out in the garden. Made a ruckus."

"I saw one of your trellises was down." His eyes swung over to me, damnyankee in my torn and muddy clothes. I suddenly wished I knew if or where I was bleeding. "Well hello, son. How's your lady friend? Needing a rabies shot?"

I was barely prepared for the surge of fury rising to my back teeth. Kat's fingers on mine were fever-hot, the ice was fiery-cold. Between those two scorches the fury hit a wall, was forced back down. "My wife seems to be fine, thank you. She wasn't bitten, just scratched."

"I'll get you some tea." Evans passed a little too close to me, and the smell of talcum powder, bourbon, perfume, and hairspray hit the back of my throat. I swallowed another growl, bent down, and took a deep whiff of Kat, broken stems, mud, cedar perfume, and the iron tang of blood. "You want some tea, honey?"

"Tea would be lovely." Kat's consonants blurred. A little more color came back into her face. The plastic bag crinkled, a streak of clea

"Can you describe the dog, missus?" The sheriff didn't step in past the foyer, leaning in the door to the living room. Instead, his eyes roved the surface of the chairs and settees, the dark and dead iron stove, the fringed lamps and overstuffed furniture. The place had once been a nice antebellum mansion, but it looked like the Victorian era had thrown up in here.

"Brown fur and big teeth." Kat gave him a wide-eyed, tremulous smile full of dewy i

The man's face didn't so much as crack. "Big dog? Little dog?" His narrow gaze cut over to me, flashed back to Kat, and slid back to me, eyes almost lost in folds of flesh.

I've seen that look once or twice, and it always makes my hackles go up.

He knows something.

Well, no shit. Reeking of bloodsucker and sweating like a horse, of course he knew something.

"Fairly big. Mitch scared it off." Amazingly, Kat actually fluttered her eyelashes. She slumped back against the chintz, her fingers still clamped to mine. "Were you hurt, sweetheart?"

Anyone who knew her would have winced at the sarcasm in her tone. Sheriff Harv scratched at his forehead, dangling his hat in one beefy hand. "Guess you's both lucky. Dogs is nothing to fool round with." There it was again, the furtive little gleam in his eye when he said "dog."

I hate that.

"Well, guess I'll take a report." Harv palmed a cupful of sweat from his broad forehead and dug deep for what looked like a genuine smile, directed at Kat. "You and your fella there don't go nowhere."

"I don't think I'm in the mood for any rambles." Kat bristled, and I suddenly knew it was in my behalf. My heart got four sizes too big for its anchor inside my ribcage. "Not with so many dangerous things on the loose."

The smile dropped off Harv's face so fast I was surprised it didn't shatter on the hardwood—tastefully covered by a rug embroidered with cabbage roses, of all things. "Guess not. Ma'am." He mimed tipping his hat to Miz Evans, who made a small idiotic sound, and left, banging the screen door behind him.

"He'll be back with some paperwork." Evans held two tall sweating glasses of tea I could smell the sugar in. "Here, honey. You need some tea. It fixes all ills."