Blood Trail

Chapter Ten

This is ridiculous. It's 11:30. Vicki's likely asleep. Celluci sat in his car and stared at the dark bulk of the farmhouse. Or at least in bed. He decided not to take that thought any further. The lights are on in the kitchen. Someone's up. I could at least make sure this is the right... "Jesus!"
The white head staring in the driver's side window belonged to the biggest dog he'd ever seen. It looked to be part shepherd, part malamute, and, if he didn't know better, he'd swear, part wolf. It didn't look angry, just curious and its eyes... Unable to decide if the eyes were as strange as he thought or if the glass was distorting them somehow, he cracked open the window enough for the head, but not the shoulders, and kept his finger on the switch in case the beast should lunge.
Not so much as a whisker crossed the edge of the window, but the wet black nose twitched once, twice as the cool air inside the car flowed out into the night.
The eyes were strange; it wasn't just the glass. Celluci wasn't quite sure what the difference was but he'd never seen a dog of any kind with eyes that looked so human.
Suddenly, the big dog whirled and ran barking for the house, its pale form flickering like a negative image against the night.
Realizing his choice had just been made for him, Celluci shut off the engine. He'd been announced. He might as well go in.
"Vicki. Come on, Vicki. Wake up."
Vicki tried to ignore both the voice and the hand gently shaking her shoulder but, in spite of her best efforts, her body betrayed her and began losing its hold on sleep. Finally she surrendered, muttered an obscenity, and groped for her glasses. Cool fingers gripped her wrist, guiding her search. She didn't bother opening her eyes until she actually had the glasses in place - not much point when she wouldn't be able to see anything anyway.
In the dim spill of light from the hallway, she could just barely make out the darker outline of a man. It had to be Henry, not only was he the only adult male in the house who habitually wore clothes, but the temperature of his touch was a dead giveaway.
"Henry, I'm flattered but I'm exhausted. Get lost."
She could hear the smile in his reply. "Next time I'll be able to do more of the work. But that wasn't why I woke you. We've got company and I think you'd better get up."
"What time is it?"
"11:33."
Vicki really disliked digital watches, only race horses and defense attorneys needed to time life to the second. "I just got to sleep. Can't it wait until morning?"
"I don't think so."
"All right." She sighed and swung her legs out from under the sheet. "Who is it?"
"Detective-Sergeant Michael Celluci."
"Say what!"
"Detec... "
"I heard you the first time. Close the door and turn on the light."
He did as she requested, shielding his eyes against the sudden glare.
The clothes she'd worn this afternoon would have to do, Celluci had certainly seen her look worse. "Are you sure?"
"Very. Cloud checked out the car when it first pulled up. She said she could smell a gun, so I took a quick look. It's Michael Celluci. Keeping in mind how we met, I'm not likely to forget him."
Vicki had very little memory of how Henry and Celluci had met, but considering that she was tired and bleeding and about to become a demonic sacrifice at the time, that was hardly surprising. "What the hell is he doing here?"
"I don't know." Henry leaned back against the wall and waited while she pulled a T-shirt over her head before he continued. "But I thought you might like to be there when we found out."
"Be there?" She stuffed her feet into sandals and stood, running both hands through her hair rather than search for a brush. "You couldn't pay me enough to miss this explanation and if something isn't very wrong that I have to know about immediately - and I'll be damned if I can think of what that might be - I'll have a few words to say in return."
Because Henry had every intention of living for another four hundred and fifty years, he kept his initial response to that clamped firmly behind his teeth.
"Detective-Sergeant Michael Celluci, ma'am. Is Vicki Nelson here?"
"Yes, she's here. Henry's gone to wake her."
"That isn't necessary." Henry must've seen him approaching the house and recognized him. He's got eyes like an owl if that's the case. I couldn't see my hand afoot in front of my face out there, cloud cover's got everything blocked off. "It's late. Now I know this is the right place, I can return tomorrow."
"Nonsense." The woman stepped back out of the way and motioned him into the kitchen. "You've driven all the way from Toronto, you might as well wait. She'll be right down."
If they'd gone to get her up, he didn't really have a choice. The only thing worse than having Vicki dragged out of bed, would be having her dragged out of bed and not staying around to explain why. Slipping his shield and his ID back into his pocket, he followed a gesture into a chair, keeping a wary eye on the huge white dog who watched him from across the room. This is ridiculous. One more night isn't going to make a difference. And she's not going to be happy about being woken up.
A red dog came out and sat beside the white. It looked less than happy to see him. It also looked larger although, considering the size of the first, Celluci found that difficult to believe. He shifted a little in his chair. "What, uh, kind of dogs are they?"
"They're descended from an obscure European hunting breed. You've probably never heard of it."
"Something like wolfhounds?"
"Something like, yes." She pulled out a chair and sat down, pinning him under a curiously intent gaze. "My name is Nadine Heerkens-Wells, my husband and I run this farm. Vicki is working for us at the moment, Is there something I should know, Detective?"
"No, ma'am. This doesn't concern you." In fact, Celluci was having a little trouble dealing with a friendship between the man he perceived Henry Fitzroy to be and this woman. Although physically she was quite striking, with her widow's peak and sharp, almost exotic features, the quality of her surroundings said poor white trash. Her wrinkled sleeveless dress looked as if it had just been picked up off the floor and thrown on. And there's enough stuff scattered around to dress a half a dozen people, provided they 're not too fussy about the condition of their clothes. None of the furniture could be less than ten years old, clumps of hair had piled up in every corner, and the whole kitchen had a kind of shabby ambiance that indicated money was scarce.
Of course, all their spare cash could be going into dog food.
He heard footsteps on the stairs and stood, turning to face the door leading into the hall.
"All right, Celluci, what's wrong?" Vicki stopped barely a handspan from his chest and glared up into his face. "Someone had better be dying... " Her tone added, or someone's going to be.
"What the hell happened to your head?"
"My what? Oh that. I was in a car accident this afternoon. I guess I hit the dash." The fingers on her right hand patted the air over the purple and green swelling. "The hospital says it's just a bump. Looks bad but no real damage." Her eyes narrowed, glasses sliding down her nose with the motion. "Your turn."
Henry, standing just inside the kitchen, hid a smile. Vicki obviously thought Celluci was entitled to hear about the accident; while she was telling him, the challenge dropped from her voice and posture. The moment she finished, it was back.
Celluci drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Can we talk somewhere privately?"
"Privately?"
He glanced over her shoulder at Henry. "Yeah. Privately. As in I'd like to speak with you alone."
Vicki frowned. She'd seen that look before. Politely translated, it meant he was ready to make an arrest. Why he should be aiming it at Henry... "We'll go out to your car."
"I thought you couldn't see in the dark?"
"I know what you look like." She grabbed his arm just above the elbow and propelled him toward the kitchen door, throwing an "I won't be long" to the room in general as they left.
The moment they were clear of the house, Peter stretched and said, "I wonder why she didn't want to use the living room?"
Henry grinned. "Where you could've heard every word they said?"
"Well... "
"Vicki has a pretty good idea of how well the wer can hear." He walked to the window and stared across the dark lawn at Celluci's car. "And she knows how well I can."
"Well?"
He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. Where to start? "It's about your friend, Mr. Fitzroy."
Vicki snorted. "No kidding."
"I did some checking into his background... "
"You what?"
He ignored the interruption and continued. "... and there're a number of discrepancies I think you should know about."
"And I suppose you had a good reason for abusing police privilege?" The tension in her jaw pulled at her temple, sharpening the pain and spreading it out over her skull, but Vicki didn't dare unclench her teeth. If Celluci had discovered Henry's secret, she had to know about it and couldn't risk it getting lost in a screaming fight. Later.
Celluci could hear the suppressed anger in her voice, could see the tightening of her lips in the pale oval of her face. He had no idea why she was hanging onto her temper but he knew it wouldn't last so he'd better use the time he had.
"Your reason, Celluci."
"You think what happened last spring wasn't reason enough?"
"Not if you just started searching now, no, I don't."
"What makes you think I just started searching now?"
He could see the lighter slash of her smile. It didn't look friendly.
"You drive all the way from Toronto, you barge into a strange house at 11:30 at night, you have me roused from sleep and dragged from bed, and I'm supposed to believe this is information you've had for months? Cop a plea, Celluci, the evidence is against you."
"Look," he turned to face her, "your friend isn't what you think he is."
"What do I think he is?" This didn't sound good.
"Oh, I don't know." Celluci drove both hands up through his hair. "Hell, yes I do. You think he's some sort of exotic literary figure, who can wine you and dine you and offer you moonlit nights of romance... "
Vicki felt her jaw drop.
"... but he's got holes in his background you could drive a truck through. Everything points to only one answer; he's got to be deeply involved in organized crime."
"Organized crime?" Her voice came out flat, no inflection.
"It's the only solution that fits all the facts."
She sputtered. She just couldn't help it. She just couldn't hold it in any longer.
Celluci leaned toward her, trying to read her expression. When she got over the initial shock, she'd want to hear what he'd found.
Vicki managed to repeat organized crime one more time before she lost it.
He watched her laugh and wondered if he should smack her. He could always use hysteria as an excuse.
Finally, she managed to get hold of herself.
"Are you ready to listen?" he asked through gritted teeth.
Vicki shook her head, reached up and brushed the long curl of hair back off his forehead - she didn't have to see it to know it was there. "Leaving aside your reasons for the moment, you couldn't be more wrong. Trust me, Mike. Henry Fitzroy is not involved in organized crime. At any level, of any kind."
"You're sleeping with him, aren't you?"
So much for his reasons. You are mine resonated over, under, and through that question. Unfortunately, she couldn't deal with his archaic perceptions right now; this was too potentially dangerous for Henry. "What does that have to do with this?"
"You wouldn't be willing to believe... "
"Bullshit! I'm perfectly willing to believe that you're a chauvinistic, possessive bastard and I sleep with you." So much for good intentions.
He hadn't intended to be so loud, but his voice practically echoed in the confines of the car. "Vicki, I'm telling you, beyond a certain point, Henry Fitzroy has no... What the hell was that?"
"Was what?" Vicki peered out the windows but couldn't see past the night. She shoved her glasses up her nose. It didn't help.
"Something ran past out there. It might have been one of those big dogs. It looked like it might be hurt."
"Shit!" She was out of the car and racing toward the house before the final explosive "t" had passed her lips. The darkness was absolute save for the faint square of light that was the kitchen window. It's a big building. How can I miss it? Then she remembered Henry warning her the first night about the curve in the path. Too late. She stumbled and fell, burying her hands in the loose dirt of the garden.
"Come on." Celluci heaved her to her feet and kept a tight hold on her arm. "If it's that important, I'll be your eyes."
They pounded through the kitchen door together, just in time to see a massive russet shape crash to the floor, the fur on its chest a darker, more deadly shade of red.
"Too big to be Storm," Vicki panted, fighting free of Celluci's grip. "Has to be... "
And then there wasn't any question as outlines blurred and blood began pumping from an ugly gash across the right side of Donald's ribs.
Vicki and Nadine hit the floor beside the wounded wer at roughly the same time. Nadine, who had grabbed a first aid kit from over the kitchen sink, was expertly pinching the torn edges of flesh together and wrapping them in place.
"We do most of our own doctoring," she said, in response to Vicki's silent question.
All things considered, it made sense. The presence of Dr. Dixon didn't carry much weight against an entire history with no physicians. "Doesn't look like a gunshot wound." Together they got the gauze around Donald's neck. "Looks like he got hit with a chunk of flying rock."
Nadine snorted. "Comforting."
"I thought," Vicki grunted, holding Donald's weight while Nadine continued to wind the gauze, "that you'd all agreed to stay out of those fields."
"It isn't that easy to overcome a territorial imperative."
"It isn't that easy to overcome a .30 caliber slug either."
"What the hell are you two talking about?" Celluci took a step forward. "What the hell is going on around here?"
"Later, Mike. I think he's going to need a hospital."
"I think you're right. Cloud!"
To Celluci's astonishment, the big white dog galloped out of the room. "What's it going to do? Call 911?"
"Yes," Vicki snapped, pushing at her glasses with the back of a bloody hand.
Henry started across the kitchen. Someone was going to have to take care of Michael Celluci and, as much as he might wish otherwise, it looked like it was going to have to be him. No need for concern, Detective, it's just werewolves. Coercion would be safer than explanation; get him outside and twist his mind until he no longer knew exactly what he'd seen.
Unfortunately, by the time Henry had covered the four meters to Celluci, the situation had changed again.
Stuart, who had seen a stranger's car parked at the end of the lane, had grabbed a pair of shorts from the barn and changed before coming to the house. A voice and a pair of hands could often make a difference in an unplanned confrontation, but now he wished he'd stayed with tooth and claw. A member of his pack was down and the blood scent drew his lips back from his teeth.
"What's going on?" he growled.
"Donald got hit. Vicki thinks it was a ricochet. There's an ambulance coming." Nadine shot the words out without looking up.
"He changed?"
"As he went out."
Stuart turned to face the stranger, hackles rising, ears tight against his head. "And this one saw?"
"Yeah, this one saw." Celluci's jaw jutted out at a dangerous angle. "And I want some explanations of what I saw and I want them now."
"Don't push, Detective." Henry could see that Stuart was close to the edge and was facing Celluci's aggression the way he'd face a challenge from a dominant male of his own kind.
"Stay out of this, Fitzroy!" His fingers curled into fists, Celluci locked eyes with the man in the doorway. He'd taken as much abuse as he was going to. Dogs did not change into men. "I want answers now."
The growl was a warning and something deep in Celluci's hindbrain recognized it as such. He didn't listen. "Well? I'm waiting!" He didn't have to wait long. His tottering world view fell and shattered as thumbs were shoved behind shorts, shorts hit the floor, and a great black beast that seemed mostly teeth leapt suddenly for his throat. Then something pushed him back and Henry and the beast were on the floor.
Henry had thrown his good shoulder under the charge and managed to force Stuart's fur-form down. With only one arm, however, he couldn't keep him there without injuring him. At least his anger's been redirected. .
Celluci knew a man couldn't possibly move as fast as Henry Fitzroy was moving. The beast lunged and Fitzroy was somewhere else. Instantly. Or as near as made no difference. Again. And again. And again. With barely a heartbeat between. And through it all came the deep-throated growl of an enraged animal, building to a savage crescendo with each attack.
A deadly little dance, Henry realized as teeth snapped closed on the air beside his hip. Even with one bad arm he knew he could force the wer to submit - he was stronger and faster, but then what? Defeat the dominant male and rule the pack. No thank you, he thought as they scrabbled through another movement. But he could feel himself responding to the scents and the sounds and the anger and wondered how much longer he'd be able to maintain control. There has to be a way to break through...
Suddenly, it was no longer his problem.
With Donald still on the floor, the red wer attacking had to be Storm. Henry backed quickly out of the way while the two rolled snarling and snapping then sprang apart, circled, and charged together again.
Enough! Celluci dropped to one knee and pulled his gun from his ankle holster. He wasn't thinking exactly clearly, he had no real idea of what he was going to shoot - This is someone's kitchen for Chrissakes! - but he felt more in control with the weight of the weapon in his hand.
Then Storm yelped and threw himself down on his back, all four feet in the air and the edge of one ear split. Long white teeth closed around his throat.
Celluci raised the gun.
A high-pitched, piercing howl cut through the chaos and everyone froze, looking like they'd been playing a demented game of statues. Then, in near unison, they turned. Shadow sat just inside the hall door, muzzle raised and throat working as his howl undulated mournfully up and down the scale. It lasted just over a minute, bouncing off the walls, reverberating through bone and blood, impossible to ignore, and then trailing off into a series of hiccuping yelps.
Nadine responded first, leaving Donald with Vicki and racing across the room to gather Shadow up into her arms. He pushed closer and tried to bury his head under her breasts. She lifted his head and gazed anxiously down into his eyes. "What is it, baby? What's wrong?"
Given encouragement to speak, and therefore to change, Daniel peered over his mother's shoulder and wailed. "That man's going to shoot my papa!"
All heads now turned to follow Daniel's pointing finger - all except Storm who had been pinned by one of his uncle's huge paws and was now having his bitten ear vigorously licked.
Vicki sat back on her knees, one hand resting lightly on the thick pad of gauze wrapped around Donald's chest, monitoring the rise and fall of his labored breathing with her fingertips. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Oh for Chrissake, Celluci, put the penis substitute away."
A shout of laughter from outside the screen door was the immediate and unexpected response. Everyone turned yet again as Colin and Barry came into the kitchen, Colin saying, "I told you we'd miss all the good stuff if we stopped for gas."
"I'm sure I saw this once in an old Marx Brothers' movie," Vicki muttered to no one in particular. She raised her voice. "People, what are the odds we could pull ourselves together before the ambulance arrives?"
Colin glanced around the kitchen, nostrils flaring as they caught the varied scents, smile vanishing as he saw the body on the floor. "Dad!" He threw himself to his knees, pushing Vicki away. "What happened to my father?"
"Ricochet. Our marksman missed."
"Is he... ?"
"At least one busted rib and some torn up muscle. I don't know about internal injuries."
"Why is he just lying here? We've got to get him to a hospital!" He put his hands under his father's shoulders.
Vicki lifted them away. "Calm down, there's an ambulance coming."
"If you're being shot at in human form now, we'll have to report it," Barry put in, touching Colin lightly on the back.
"He wasn't," Vicki told him, getting to her feet. "He changed when he hit the house. You must be Barry Wu."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I want to talk to you."
"Yes, ma'am. Later. Uh, if he changed in the house, then... " His gaze flickered to Celluci and back.
Vicki sighed. "Yes, he saw." She turned to Celluci, wiping her bloody fingers on her shorts. "Please put the gun away, Mike."
Breathing heavily, he looked down at the gun as if he'd never seen it before.
"Put it away, Mike."
He looked up at her and his brows drew down into a deep vee. "This is crazy," he said.
"There's a perfectly simple explanation," she told him, moving closer. She'd jump him if she had to. With luck, he'd hesitate before shooting her and she'd be able to disarm him.
"Okay." He tossed the curl of hair back off his forehead. "Let's hear it."
Vicki glanced back at Nadine who shrugged.
"Go ahead," she said. "If you think he can handle it."
Vicki thought they didn't have much choice, at least not until they got that gun back where it belonged.
"Your simple explanation?" Celluci prodded.
Squaring her shoulders, she met his eyes and said, as matter-of-factly as she was able, "Werewolves."
"Werewolves," he repeated blankly, then he bent and slipped the .38 into its holster, twitching the leg of his jeans back into place before he straightened. He looked down at Shadow, rubbing himself up against his father's fur, at Storm and Cloud who were doing much the same, and then over at Henry.
"You, too?" he asked.
Henry shook his head. "No."
Celluci nodded. "Good." He drew in a deep breath and then he started to swear. In Italian. He kept it up for almost three minutes and managed to dredge up words and phrases he hadn't used since childhood. Most of them, he screamed at Vicki who waited patiently for him to run down.
Henry, who spoke fluent if slightly archaic Italian, noted, moderately impressed, that he only repeated himself in order to add adjectives to the profanity.
His vocabulary ran out just as the lights of the ambulance turned in at the top of the lane.
The moment they showed, Nadine took charge. "Cloud! Get Shadow back upstairs and make sure he and the twins stay there. Storm stay in fur-form; your ear is still bleeding. Tag, get some clothes on."
Tag? Vicki repeated silently as Stuart scooped up a pair of sweatpants. Stuart's fur-form name is Tag?
"Colin," Nadine continued, closing the hall door behind Cloud and Shadow, "you follow them into town in case he needs blood. Vicki, could you go in the ambulance? If he wakes up... "
"No problem."
She'd told the others and asked Vicki - Henry noted the distinction with some amusement.
As the paramedics carried Donald out on the stretcher, Celluci grabbed Vicki's arm and pulled her to one side.
"I'm going to follow you in. We have to talk."
"I'll be looking forward to it."
"Good." He drew his lips back off his teeth in a parody of a smile. No one in the room, vampire or wer, could have done it better.