Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

“You do it. Now that I’ve actually accessed my inner panther, I doubt she and I will ever get along.”

“You weren’t ever going to get along anyway,” Claire said, and dialed.

I drank the rest of my beer as I waited for Claire to speak. When she didn’t, I lowered the can. The expression on her face made me stand. “What is it?”

“No one’s answering.”

Someone always answered the Jager-Sucher hotline. Always. Although the last time I’d called, the place had sounded frantic.

Claire hung up and tried again. She listened, shook her head, and disconnected. “I’ll try tomorrow.”

I suddenly felt antsy. I wanted to see Ian. Now.

“I’d better go.” I set my empty can on the counter. Claire followed me to the door and hugged me again. I let her. Last summer when she’d nearly died by werewolf, it had taken me a while to get over it.

As I walked to the clinic, the sky cleared and a lopsided moon spilled silver across the rooftops. God, I loved this town.

The front door stood ajar. Shaking my head at Ian’s absentmindedness, I slipped in. I followed his voice upstairs to his office where he stood at the window, talking on the phone.

He’d showered and now wore loose cotton pants and nothing else. His hair was wet; the eagle feather lay on the desk next to a jar of balm. Even from the doorway, I could see the bruises on his back and across his ribs. I got angry all over again.

“I think at one time Quatie read about the Raven Mocker in Rose Scott’s papers.” He paused. “No, she didn’t say that, but it makes sense. She read the spell, and when her body began to break down she remembered and performed it.”

For several seconds he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“You’re sure they’re all missing?” Ian cursed. “Okay. Right. I’ll be there in the morning.” He hung up but didn’t turn around. “You heard?”

“You’re leaving me?”

He spun. “No. Of course not.”

“But—”

“Just because I have to leave doesn’t mean I’m leaving you. Didn’t you ever wonder why I opened a clinic in this town when I’ve never stayed more than the time it took me to kill something in any other?”

“Why?”

“I’m tired of wandering. I need a home.”

“You’re coming back?”

He crossed the room and pulled me against him. “Have so many people left that you don’t know the

y sometimes come back?”

I nodded.

“I’ll come back.”

“Unless something kills you.”

“I’ve been doing this for years. Not a scratch on me. “Until tonight.”

I picked up the balm, and screwed off the top; then I spread it gently over his skin just as he’d once done for me.

“I’d never ask you to quit being a cop. It’s part of who you are. But I wish you could—”

I stopped spreading the goo. “What?”