chapter 3
The theater district wasn’t much to go on, but it would help. Nick had tried using his human senses and was no closer to finding Katie than he had been an hour ago. Meanwhile, night had fallen, so under the cover of darkness he could shift and use his wolf senses. He’d try to stay out of sight, but even if someone spotted him, most Bostonians didn’t know a wolf from a German shepherd.
Finding a private spot in an alley behind a Dumpster, he stripped naked. It didn’t matter if an onlooker thought he was a wolf or a dog. Either one wearing clothes would kind of stick out. He concentrated on his wolf form and began the painful process of shifting. He steeled himself not to groan or growl as he went through it. During a full moon, a werewolf had no choice and would shift regardless. He didn’t relish the idea of going through it more often, but when his alternate form provided a distinct advantage, he’d use it.
As soon as the transformation was complete, he relaxed into his new form. He heard a click. He thought he’d heard a series of clicks before, but he was too preoccupied with the shift to concentrate on anything else.
He whipped his head in the direction of the sound and saw a woman in gray sweats up on the hill and several yards away. A hoodie almost hid Brandee’s beautiful red hair, but a few strands blew in the cool breeze. She must have followed him with her camera.
Damn it. Did she see me shift?
From the scent of fear rolling off her and her muttered “Oh, my wendigo…” he’d say she had.
He caught another scent at almost the same time—the one he was looking for. Katie!
Now he had a major dilemma. Should he shift back and try to sweet-talk the camera away from Brandee? Undoubtedly, she must have thought she was losing her mind. Or should he just concentrate on the little girl’s scent and take the chance that Brandee would never divulge the secret existence of paranormals. But what would she do with the damning evidence?
Shit, shit, shit. The number one rule of any pack was to protect the pack. It was crucial to never reveal their alternate forms to humanity. And that didn’t just pertain to werewolves. Any paranormal who exposed their existence endangered them all.
And she had proof!
He had completely blown it. Unless he could reach her quickly, he could forget about his PI job. He’d be in a government lab before he could say, “There are no such things as werewolves.”
He dashed behind a fence that hid him from her view and shifted back as quickly as he could. Now he had to get to her before she disappeared but with the added problem of being stark naked.
He caught sight of her fleeing and called, “Brandee! Wait up.” He had to dash to the spot where he’d left his clothes, snatch them up, then charge after her. “Brandee, stop!” She was getting away. There was no time to get dressed. He had to chase her down with his clothes in his fist, covering his junk.
***
Brandee made it as far as the Boston Common before Nick grabbed her arm and brought her to an awkward, flailing halt. Her shoulder hurt as if it had been wrenched out of its socket. At least she still had a good hold on her camera.
“Let me go, you freak!”
His grip on her arm dug in painfully, and the adrenaline rush made her quiver all over, like she’d swallowed a vibrator. Even so, she couldn’t help but notice his virile body. The part she most wanted to see was covered by his fistful of clothing.
“Will you promise not to run if I let go?”
“Will you promise to get dressed if I promise not to run?”
He had the audacity to laugh but agreed. As soon as he let go, she turned her back so he could put on his clothes in relative privacy. Considering that a dozen gaping mouths were riveted in their direction, privacy wasn’t really possible.
“Okay, you can turn around now,” Nick said, as he zipped his jeans.
Brandee had no idea what to say. Should she confront him on what she thought she saw? If her eyes were playing tricks on her, would he think she was nuts? And speaking of nuts, why was he naked if he hadn’t just been a huge dog?
She clapped a hand against her forehead. “Ow. My aching head.”
A movement from behind a tree caught her eye. She looked past Nick and saw creepy Mr. Balog watching them. Her upstairs neighbor seemed to enjoy spying on the patrons and employees of the bar. She might have a problem with Nick at the moment, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to get arrested.
“Nick,” she whispered. “Balog’s behind you. He probably thinks you’re a rapist.”
“Shit.” He swiveled enough to spot the man lurking.
Mr. Balog disappeared behind the tree again.
Nick said loud enough for the eavesdropper to hear, “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s kiss and make up.”
Before she could do more than open her mouth to protest, his lips descended on hers in a passionate, overwhelming, drugging kiss. His tongue found hers and they entwined in a warm swirling dance. Her body melded to his as if they were two halves of a locket that fit together perfectly. Flutters of pleasure rippled from her head to her toes.
She didn’t know if the kiss lasted for minutes, hours, or days. The world fell away and the only things that remained were Nick and her liquid insides.
When they finally pulled apart, his blue eyes stared down at her, appearing as shocked as she felt.
***
Balog rode the elevator to the top floor of the innocuous-looking office building. He had to report what he saw to the Council right away.
When he arrived at Supernatural Headquarters and the elevator doors whooshed open, bright sunlight met him. He’d never get used to that. It was pitch black outside, but looking out of the invisible glass dome over the entire top floor, he saw puffy clouds and sunshine as bright as noon.
And they say “Don’t mess with Mother Nature.” As soon as that thought traveled through his brain, the entity herself marched over to him.
“Balog. What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think something’s wrong? Couldn’t I just be here for a visit?”
She crossed her arms and frowned. “You’d better not be. You know how I feel about socializing with people.”
“I’m not most people.”
“You sure as hell aren’t. You’re one of the weirdest humans I’ve ever met.”
Balog sighed. He’d never get used to Mother Nature being a trash-talker. He had originally pictured her as a sweet, winsome, young woman with flowers in her hair. Instead he had been introduced to a middle-aged, foul-mouthed cynic who was just as apt to wear weeds as flowers along with her flowing white robe and flip-flops.
“So, skip the niceties. What did you see, Balog?”
“A werewolf revealed himself to a human.”
Mother Nature balled her fists and yelled, “What the frack? Was it an accident? Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Someone’s in deep shit. Which werewolf?”
“Nicholas Wolfensen.”
One of the other Council members, sitting with four white-robed males at a round table, interrupted their poker game to add his two cents. “That wasn’t very bright of him.”
Mother Nature whirled on him. “No shit, Olympian Obvious.”
Balog let out another long-suffering sigh. “Wait. It gets worse.”
“Crap. Well, give it to me straight. You know how I hate sugarcoating.”
“Yes, ma’am. His shift was caught on camera.”
Mother Nature’s jaw dropped. Apparently she didn’t have any words foul enough for the situation. Eventually, she looked up at the sky and bellowed something that sounded like, “Gaaaaah!”
Playing cards flew everywhere. As they fluttered to the floor, Mother Nature bowed over at the waist, as if she’d been punched in the gut.
Balog took a deep breath and hoped for the best. “What would you like me to do?”
“You?” She straightened up, clasped her hands behind her back, and began to pace. “You can do your usual nothing. I’ll take care of this myself. Better yet, I’ll create a diversion and you can play fetch.”
***
“Wow.” Nick gathered Brandee in his arms and held her against his pounding chest. His inner wolf had awakened when he kissed her. His nerves tingled and he had an incredible urge to howl. It was as if something clicked as it fell into place and the sensation had brought not only a feeling of belonging, but also relief.
She tucked her head beneath his chin, and he stroked her back. An overwhelming urge to protect her overcame him. He had never felt this strongly about shielding a woman before. Apparently, Brandee wasn’t just any woman. He tried to let go and couldn’t.
What was happening? Women didn’t affect him this way. Why did he want to envelop her in his arms and never let go? It was almost as if an invisible force demanded he shelter her. Take care of her.
“Yeah, wow is right,” she said. “I-I’ve never…”
“Me neither.” He leaned back and tipped up her chin so he could look in her eyes. “You know what I said before?”
She shook her head. “About what?”
“You know…about my not dating any woman more than one time.”
Her soft expression suddenly hardened. “Oh yeah. That.”
“Well, forget it. It doesn’t pertain to you.”
Her mouth opened but no words came out, so he took advantage of the moment and leaned down to kiss her again.
Suddenly a fierce wind blew up from nowhere. Brandee’s long auburn hair whipped his neck and face.
“Holy…” Nick braced his feet against the raging wind and grasped his girl, squeezing her tight.
“Nick, what’s happening?” Brandee had to shout to be heard over the wind.
“Don’t know. Freak storm. Microburst maybe. Come on.” He took her hand, and as he was dragging her to the safety of a huge tree to block the wind and debris, her camera flew off her shoulder.
“Nick! My camera!”
Squinting against the dirt swirling around them, he could barely see it. The camera quickly tumbled out of view altogether. “We’ll get it later. Just hold on to me.”
Brandee did as he asked, clinging to his shirt with all her might. He had to be careful not to use all of his werewolf strength, or he could crush her.
At last the wind died down. They were covered with dirt and Brandee’s hair was a mess, but other than that, they were fine.
Nick let out a long breath of relief.
“Oh, my freak of nature… What was that?” she asked.
“Might have been a tornado.”
Brandee laughed. “We don’t have tornadoes in New England.”
“Sure we do. They’re not usually as bad as the ones that rip through Tornado Alley in the Midwest, but we’ve had a few.”
“Seriously?”
“I answered a call a few years ago that sounded like vandalism, but it turned out to be a tornado that had tossed some lawn furniture through an elderly couple’s window.”
“Damn,” she breathed. “I felt my feet lifting off the ground at one point. You probably saved me from Oz, or at least flying away like my camera. Speaking of which…” She swiveled one way, then the other. “I don’t see it.”
“Last I saw, it was traveling that way.” He pointed to Tremont Street.
A refrigeration truck rumbled across the pavement along with any number of cars and taxis. The streetlamps provided enough light to scan the area. Nothing resembling a camera could be seen.
“Oh, no. I’m afraid my camera must have been run over by now.”
“I’m sorry, babe. I’ll get you another one.”
She stared up at him, surprised.
Nick smirked. “What? You thought I’d be an a*shole once you got to know me?”
She laughed. “No, but I wouldn’t expect you to buy me a new camera. It wasn’t your fault I lost it. Heck, you kept me from being blown away. I didn’t think you…” She seemed lost for words.
“What? Cared?”
“Not exactly. I—uh…” Brandee hesitated.
“You, uh, what?”
“I don’t know if I can trust you to mean what you say.”
“About what?”
“That one-night thing.”
He stared into her eyes with an intensity that indicated he meant business. “You can trust me.”
“I should have my head examined, but for some crazy reason, I believe you.”
***
“Good work, Balog.” Mother Nature liberated the camera from Mr. Balog’s tight grasp.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Thank God she seems to have calmed down. The last thing I want to do is get into trouble with the head of the Supernatural Council.
“Not right now. At some point I may need to have a little talk with Mr. Wolfensen. In the meantime, keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t have any more stupid slipups.”
“I will,” Mr. Balog promised.
“How’s Anthony doing, by the way?”
“The owner of Boston Uncommon? He seems all right. I know you were against the whole idea of the bar, but it certainly makes it easier for us to keep an eye on the paranormals if they all congregate in one place. It’s kind of amazing to see a werewolf, a vampire, and other supes become friends.”
Her imperfect eyebrows arched. “Are you saying I may have been wrong?”
“No! Not at all. You’re never wrong. It’s just that I couldn’t very well talk him out of opening a bar for paranormals when I’m not supposed to know paranormals exist.”
“Yes, I can see that I assigned you a difficult task. But the fact remains. You failed to keep the city safe.”
“If I may be so bold, maybe not. So far Anthony’s theory seems to be paying off. Hostilities between different paranormal factions seem to be easing as they get to know each other as, well, fellow misfits.”
Mother Nature crossed her arms. “Is that so?”
“Isn’t that good news?”
She huffed. “I suppose. But let’s not forget. I don’t make mistakes, so calling them misfits is a trifle disrespectful.”
Balog clasped his hands and looked at the floor. “I apologize.”
Mother Nature shrugged. “I’m glad that they’re behaving themselves, but it’s kind of boring for the other Council members, as you can see.” She gestured over her shoulder with her thumb.
All the white-robed Greek gods playing poker seemed perfectly content to Balog.
“I mean I can always entertain myself,” she continued. “An earthquake here, a tornado there. I enjoyed the heck out of Hurricane Bob.” She chuckled. “Just enough to make everyone scramble—but not enough to do a lot of damage. Perfect.”
While she was in a good mood, he thought he might as well chat up the Council’s chairwoman. He’d like to test Anthony’s theory and see if getting to know each other better would improve their relationship. “Can you control the intensity of storms?”
Mother Nature grimaced. “Uh…not always. Sometimes I get a little storm going, and then it takes on a life of its own. Oopsy.”
“So Katrina? The Japanese earthquakes and tsunami? Those were mistakes?”
Her lips narrowed into a hard line. “Oh, hell. Let’s change the subject.”
“What? Why?”
“When, where, how? You’re getting a little too inquisitive, Balog. Why don’t you stick to what you’re good at?”
“Subterfuge?”
“Sure. If that’s what you like to call it. Now get back out there and keep tabs on my paranormals.”
“Yes, ma’am. Um, there’s one more thing.”
Mother Nature pinched the bridge of her nose and spoke in a bored monotone. “What is it?”
“I—uh…”
“Spit it out.”
“I wondered if you might make good on your promise. You said if I did a good job…”
“Ha. As if I’d release you and your family just when it’s paying off. Think again, Einstein.”