Page 28 of The Vampire's Werewolf Bodyguard

Cody

Trees and earth and wildlife soften the acrid smell of the distant road. Moonlight paints the scene silver between the shadows. Yesterday’s panic and elation alike have faded, leaving wary rationality in their wake. Cody feels stable. Determined. His purpose walks at his side.

“I’ll get the gate,” Simon says when they reach the fence. His dark red coat fits perfectly, giving the illusion of height. Or maybe that’s the intensity of presence he’s had since drinking Cody’s blood.

Simon looks good tonight, beyond his usual ageless elegance. Last night’s flush is gone, but his lips are pinker and his eyes brighter than before. All traces of stiffness have vanished. Cody hadn’t realized how much effort Simon spent to hide his frailty.

The electric lock beeps, and Simon slides the mechanical latch too .

“Let me go first,” Cody says, before Simon can open the gate. Simon might be cured, but protecting him is still Cody’s responsibility.

He half expects an argument, but Simon simply smiles. “Excellent idea. I’ll enjoy watching your back.”

Cody shakes a finger. “I’m on the clock.”

“Yes, yes, look but don’t touch.” Simon’s expression is angelic. “I learned patience before your great-great-great-grandfather was born.”

Cody’s growing fond of Simon’s weird little vampire jokes. The accusations of graverobbing, peppered with abominable modern slang. As Cody pushes open the gate, though, he wonders if there’s more to the undead sense of humor. He considers the matter while he surveys the clear space before the tree line.

When he finds nothing, he asks, “Does it bother you that I’m only twenty-eight?”

Simon looks up sharply but doesn’t answer until the gate is closed. “Time passes differently for us. We experience so much more, but we don’t truly age. In a sense, you’re older than I’ll ever be.” Simon shrugs. “No, your age doesn’t bother me.”

The answer is sincere, but easy. Too easy. So that isn’t it. Cody leads the way to the border between lawn and wilderness. “Do you think I should be bothered that you’re over four hundred?”

Silence reveals the successful hit.

“I actually think it’s kind of hot,” Cody says—and grins at the sound of stumbling behind him.

Sure enough, Simon tries to cover his surprise with an accusation. “So, you’re a pervert.”

“Probably. ”

“We’ll psychoanalyze you later,” Simon says. “At length. Do you smell anything yet?”

Forest rises around them, and Cody inhales. He’s spent his life in cities since getting kicked out, but he still knows how to move quietly through nature. Simon makes even less noise, and his scent has become more familiar than Cody’s own. Suspicious elements should stand out.

“Just normal nature. Lot of deer out here.” Cody inhales again. He needs to focus. They’re on a deadline. “Did Dima say when he’s showing up?”

“He never answered,” Simon says, clearly annoyed. “Which means we can take as long as we need. He can wait on the porch.”

Cody hesitates. He doesn’t want to be a wedge between Simon and his sire. There’s too much history Cody doesn’t know yet. Even if the growly, primal side of him loves the thought of keeping Simon to himself. Shoving everyone else away—especially Dima.

“I don’t blame him for worrying about you,” Cody says instead. See, he can be normal amounts of possessive. “Mysterious animal attacks on the full moon are suspicious as hell.”

“Quite,” Simon replies. “About ten yards north we’ll hit an old trail. We can follow that northeast.”

Their goal isn’t to invade the actual crime scene. The area should still be roped off, and interfering would get them in trouble with all sorts of law enforcement. They just want to sneak around the edges, discovering what they can with inhuman senses.

Cody spent his waking hours flipping through local news sites. Social media channels. Fielding supportive but unhelpful messages from Tobias. The media still hasn’t identified the victim. Law enforcement still hasn’t confirmed her cause of death, either, beyond ‘probably an animal attack.’

That might be the only story ever told. Without witnesses, most paranormal attacks don’t even need a cover-up. The next story hits the news cycle, and the old story goes to an overworked cold case team. People fill in the blanks with whatever makes sense.

Just like Cody did, when he heard someone died the night he shifted. Hell, it’s possible this really was a bear attack.

Half a mile down the trail, Simon asks, “Do you smell any traces of yourself?”

“No,” Cody says, then takes another long sniff. Just in case.

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

“Someone’s still dead,” Cody says. “If I didn’t kill her, someone or something else did.”

Another few steps of silence, beneath rustling trees and chorusing insects. “Would you smell everything better as a wolf?” Simon asks.

Cody would rather be able to communicate clearly in this situation, and he doesn’t trust his wolf to remember everything. All of that would be different if he and Simon were mates. “Not enough to matter. My nose is still good when I’m—”

The wind changes. Cody stops, and Simon goes rigid behind him.

“Blood,” Simon says, with barely a breath.

Cody’s assessment is just as quick. The scent is faint, not fresh. Underscored by traces of the human who bled. Something familiar tugs Cody’s mind, but he can’t find the right memory.

“This way.” Cody touches Simon’s shoulder, reassured by the cold strength. “Stay close.”

The scent leads them off the trail, first through brush, then onto a narrow deer track. Cody’s gun slips into his hand, its weight a reminder that humans are good at leveling the playing field. He won’t underestimate human adversaries.

“The blood is getting fainter,” Simon says, close at his elbow. Naturally, he’s more sensitive to blood than anything else.

Cody continues on the same trail. “The person’s overall scent is stronger this way. There’s something familiar about it, but I can’t quite… Here.”

There’s nobody nearby, dead or alive, but the scent intensifies around a fork in the path. A leafy thicket borders the junction. Cody casts around, ensuring they’re alone. Then he crouches to inspect the bushes.

“What is it?” Simon asks quietly.

Cody drags the backpack out to the narrow trail. The scent is even stronger now, strong enough to spark a clearer memory. But he doesn’t want to give voice to it yet. He can’t believe she would do this.

Even though the bright floral patches don’t give him hope.

Wordlessly, Simon lifts his hand. Flame spirals around his fingers, illuminating the area.

Cody would marvel at the sight, but right now, all he feels is dread. He gingerly sifts through the backpack’s contents. Nothing he finds is a surprise. Wooden stakes. A flask marked with runes—real holy water. Silver bullets. A handgun, unloaded. A black ski mask.

Cody holds the last item up. “These are the mask and gun from the attack in the parking garage. I recognize the scent, now that it’s clear. From that time, and from before.”

“You know who it is?” Simon asks.

Cody re-zips the bag, and with a deep breath rises to his feet. “Lawrence’ s roommate.”

“Erica?” Simon’s face is stark with shadow and flame. “But she was so normal! She was just… someone.”

Someone with bright red hair, floral overalls, and a kind face. Someone who was worried about her roommate. Someone who didn’t move like a fighter.

“Lawrence was just someone too, until he became obsessed with vampires,” Cody points out. He’s starting to doubt his own assessment. “Or was she faking it when we visited?”

“No,” Simon says immediately. “Or she was the best actor I’ve met in centuries. My kind is good at catching tells. Hearing heartbeats and all that. If Erica was lying to me, she was a professional.”

“She wasn’t.” Cody thinks back to the security footage. His brief glimpses of the attacker, memory sharpened by pain and protective instincts. “Her aim was terrible, and she held her gun like an amateur. But she didn’t hesitate to shoot. What could change someone’s personality like that?”

Simon crouches, peering at the weapons and supplies without touching them. “Some sort of spell, perhaps. Maybe the same witch Lawrence got the poison from? But the only thing I’ve ever seen change someone like that is…”

Silence crashes and echoes.

Cody’s heartbeat quickens, and he knows Simon will hear it. “What’s wrong?”

The fire extinguishes as Simon straightens up. Fluid and strong, just as he’s been since drinking Cody’s blood. But his eyes are wide and fragile as ice.

“I light fires,” Simon says quietly. “Tania turned into bats, and Francisco turned into fog. Dima enthralls people to do his bidding.”