Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

“Could be the storm just threw them out of whack,” I said. “Don’t birds have radar?”

“I think that’s bats.”

“Whatever. We can’t do anything about birds run amok. Anything serious I should know about?”

“Downed trees. Electricity out. Someone lost a carport to a falling branch.”

“Injuries?”

“Nothing worse than that schnoz on you.”

“Gee, thanks.” I paused for an instant. A bird had smashed into my window last night. I’d thought it a fluke, but I guess not. I’d have to call the Department of Natural Resources and find out their take on it as well as— “Did anyone happen to see a wolf?”

“Why?” Cal asked. “Did you?”

“Maybe.”

“But there aren’t any.”

“Could be someone has been keeping one as a pet and it got out during the storm.”

“Could be,” he agreed. “I’ll ask around. You coming in soon?”

“Very,” I said, and hung up.

“Pet wolves are more dangerous than real ones,” Walker murmured. “They’re often a wolf-dog mix, which makes them unpredictable. They aren’t afraid of humans, but they’re still wild in a lot of ways.”

“How do you know so much about them?”

“I’ve known people who kept wolves. It never ended well.”

I just bet it hadn’t.

“If you’ve got a hybrid loose in these mountains you’d better catch it quick. Tame wolves tend to get themselves attacked by other animals, and then there’s a danger of—”

“Rabies,” I finished.

“So you’ve got a wolf that isn’t afraid of people, which is suddenly rabid.”

I’d already been here and done this last summer. When a wolf that shouldn’t exist in the Blue Ridge Mountains had attacked a tourist, we’d thought the wolf was rabid—never mind how it had gotten here. But when the tourist became extremely hairy and jumped out a second-story window before loping away, we figured that “rabid” was often a euphemism for “lycanthropic.”

“I’ve got to go,” I said, and did, ignoring the intent expression on Walker’s face and the curiosity in his eyes.

A short while later I entered the Lake Bluff Sheriff’s Department. The place was hopping.

We had nine full-time deputies and one part-time, along with three full-time dispatchers and one part-time on the payroll. Last night everyone had been called in, and from the crowd near the desks, most of them were still here. There had to be doughnuts.

I made my way through the outer area, returning the greetings. Sure enough, a box of bakery sat on a desk—more muffins and bagels than doughnuts, although I saw a few crullers with my name on them.

No one mentioned my swollen nose and dual black eyes. Cal must have warned them off. More and more I didn’t know how I’d gotten along without him.

My office was a welcome respite from the chatter and the energy that came from having that many people in an enclosed space. I didn’t like crowds. I did better one-on-one.

As soon as I’d taken the chair behind my desk, Cal appeared. “I’ve got every officer on the lookout for a vehicle with a dented front end. Also notified the repair shops in the county. We’ll find whoever hit you and then took off.”

“Thanks.” I’d meant to do that myself, but I’d been a little distracted.

“I also checked the reports from last night. No wolves. Just more of the really big crows and strange bird behavior.”