Page 4 of Wolf Bane (Marked #3)

Mariska didn’t seem very mollified, but she nodded. “If the bad guy comes back, can I bite him? Tomas said he peed his pants one time when he thought their house was getting broken into, and I bet I’m way braver than Tomas.”

“I’m pleased your eternal rivalry with Tomas hasn’t been affected by your cold. C’mon, back inside. And you’re gonna need a real shower this time, kid. Not just a bird bath; I can tell when you’re not actually cleaning, you know.”

Mariska muttered something under her breath that Mal and I both pretended not to hear. “She okay?” I asked once the door slammed behind her. “That cough didn’t sound great.”

“It kicks in when she’s riled up,” he said, rolling the cough syrup back and forth between his hands, eyes on the house as if he could see through the walls and make sure she was actually doing what she was told. “Tomas, her eternal rival, had something similar apparently.”

“Kids. Just adorable little petri dishes.”

Mal snorted softly. “Between managing an entire CDC’s worth of germs and the shithead parents who are pissy about a trans kid just living her life alongside their little disease vectors, it’s been… it’s been a week.”

“Jesus.” I sighed, finally shutting the car door to lean on it. “Need to vent? Need someone offed? I’m not saying I’ll do it, but I probably can find someone who will. Tyler probably has a list somewhere.”

That got a small, bitter smile. “It’s not unexpected,” he said.

“Just disappointing. In Colorado, no one really cared. We lived on the pack’s land, and they were as protective of Mariska as one of their own, even though her mom…

” He visibly shook himself at the memory of Samara and all she had tried to do, all she had almost succeeding in doing.

“I knew we’d probably run into some trouble, but I really didn’t think it’d be so soon.

Mariska… bless my child,” he muttered. “Mariska told her entire class last Thursday. They were having some sort of a tell us something interesting circle time. A bunch of the kids had gone to this traveling fair thing over near the state line and were gushing about it. Mariska could’ve told them about learning to fish or getting to paint her bedroom purple with glitter in the paint, but she decided to speak her truth to a room full of kids and one very startled teacher. ”

“Oh God…”

“Yep… That was a fun phone call to get on the job site. Thankfully, nothing had happened in class, and all of her teachers are aware already, but it’s not usually something Mariska talks about.”

“How’s Mariska doing after the fact?”

Mal shrugged. “Fine as frog’s hair. The kids in her class don’t give a shit. She’s just Mariska. It’s a few parents who’re being problems, though. The usual shit,” he added before I could ask. “She’s happy at that school. She’s happy here . I don’t want to have to move her.”

“Dad!” Mariska called from inside the house. “Can I use the dog shampoo? It smells nice!”

“Go,” I urged, barely managing to stifle my laugh. “Don’t let your daughter de-flea herself without adult supervision.”

Mal, already jogging, shot me a friendly middle finger and disappeared back inside the house.

I almost called him back, just for a second, to ask if he knew anything about the Clemens kids. I couldn’t tell him about them being sick, but if they were known biters, for example, it’d take a load off my mind.

“What I need,” I complained to Ethan hours later, “is a drink. But someone whose name rhymes with Tyler finished off my bottle of Jack Daniels and Mal finished my Coke, so I’m drink-less.”

Ethan chuckled tiredly. “You don’t even like Jack and Coke. You only drink it because I do.”

“I like it. I just like more Coke than Jack.”

The sound of Ethan settling into the hotel bed—sadly familiar now—rustled down the line and he sighed.

“A few more days,” he said in reply to my unasked question.

“I have a day trip to Dearborn or maybe it’s Roseville.

I don’t know. There’s an office there where I’m supposed to meet up with a few counterparts so we can exchange notes, and I’m slated to give a presentation about rural were and shifter communities in our region. ”

I grumped, rolling onto my side in the darkened room, unable to stop the hiss of discomfort when I brushed against the bite mark from earlier. The bite itself had already healed over—thanks weird genetics—but the spot itself felt like a deep bruise and was tender to the touch even hours later.

“You good there?”

“Oh, Melly Clemens tried to take a chunk out of my leg today. That whole family is just a lot.”

“She what?”

“Bit me. Just chomped down on my calf while I was examining her brother. ” I twisted and turned to get a better look at my leg.

“One good thing coming from being a human science experiment is healing quicker. It’s looking pretty decent now.

” And it was—what should’ve been a scabby, red, swollen bite mark was now just a semicircle of red teeth marks and black-and-blue skin.

No puffiness, no bleeding. Hell, there’d probably not be any scars, either, by this time tomorrow, I thought. “Feral little brat.”

Ethan was suddenly very alert. “Was she sick?”

Something about his tone sent a trickle of alarm through my core.

I sat up, exhaustion taking a backseat to growing worry.

“You know I can’t tell you about that. I’m already pushing it, naming names about the biting incident.

” In fact, I might have crossed a line there…

Making the switch from working with the dead to the living really required a lot of second and third guessing.

“Landry…” The silence sat heavy and thick between us, the soft susurrus of Ethan’s breathing the only sound for so long I wanted to hang up just to end it.

“There’s some things I can’t tell you,” he said, low and stilted, weighing each word before he let it fall.

“But there’s been some concern lately about a virus going around the were and shifter communities. It’s mostly nothing?—”

“Then why are you so worried?” I demanded.

“You’re acting like this is the plague or something.

” His low, heavy sigh rankled, sending my hackles straight up.

“Look, I get it. This new job with the ICW is all super-secret squirrel shit—Wait, are there squirrel shifters? You know what, table that, tell me later.” Ethan’s surprised huff was almost warming, fond enough to make me want to break and tease him about what other kind of strange shifters I could think of, but I had momentum now.

“But for the past six weeks you’ve barely been home, when we talk it’s like we’re polite exes, and I absolutely understand there are things about this new job you can’t tell me, but I’m starting to feel like a mushroom here, Ethan. ”

“Do you think I want to keep you in the dark, Lan? Christ, this whole thing is just layers and layers of NDAs and talking-to s, and warnings, and reminders, and…” He trailed off.

“And I’m a little mad at myself for loving it, you know?

I… I feel like this is actually going to help make a difference for us, long term. Not just us -us but people like us.”

“Like you,” I said, barely above a whisper. “Me, Mal, Justin, hell, Mariska even… I don’t think we’re included in the ICW’s grand plan.”

Ethan was quiet again. Then. “You’d be surprised, Lan.

I promise you. You’d be surprised. Look, there’s a million things I can’t tell you, but this much I can let slip on accident, if anyone asks where you found out.

There’s this weird bug going around. It wasn’t a big deal at first, you know?

A cold. Maybe some strain of the flu that’s not hitting humans. But…”

I could practically feel him trying to decide which boundary to break and which wouldn’t be worth it.

“How about this… Let me ask some questions and you just give me a yes or no.” I sighed. “Is it fatal?”

“No,” he huffed softly, annoyed amusement clear in his tone. Something I had a great deal of experience with when it came to our arguments.

“Is it highly communicable?”

A longer pause now. “Probably.”

“Is it airborne?”

“I don’t know.”

We played twenty (thirty, forty, fifty) questions for another minute or two until I gave up.

“So, it’s highly communicable, found mostly in the rural communities, no clear indication of any connections between the communities, and so far there are some deaths attributed, but you can’t say how many or what specifically caused the deaths. ”

Ethan sighed. “Yeah, pretty much. I’m sorry I don’t know more here, Lan, but I’m not exactly in the inner circle. And even if I was…”

“I get it. I really do. We both have things we can’t share about our work. You’d think there’d be some exception for this, though, considering I technically work for the same people. They do own the clinic.”

Ethan’s yawn was jaw cracking, loud over the connection between us. “I’ve only heard a little bit about this going around, Lan, but it sounds like a problem. A lot of closed-door meetings and shit going on in levels I’m not permitted. Cullen might know more but good luck getting him to spill.”

“You’d think a doctor in their literal employ would be on the need-to-know list,” I muttered.

“How’s the clinic going, anyway? All I’ve done is ramble about what I’m doing up here in Chicago.”

“You’re terrible at changing the subject,” I teased lightly, settling back against the headboard.

My leg gave an annoying throb, reminding me the day had sucked, overall, but I gritted my metaphorical teeth and told Ethan a half-truth.

“It’s not bad. Weird, having patients who talk back now, but mostly fine.

Just getting used to a new way of doing things. ”

“Hopefully medical school’s like riding a bike and you didn’t forget everything.”

“I’m sticking my tongue out at you, just so you know.

” It had taken a lot of state-mandated retraining to be able to step into the role of GP at Sterns Bayou Clinic—more time, headaches, and feeling like I was an idiot than I’d anticipated.

But I’d passed the testing and successfully achieved recertification in time for the clinic’s opening.

Which was both disconcerting and exhilarating.

Ethan’s tone was warm, wrapping around me in an embrace when he spoke. “I’m proud of you, you know. And so damn happy that you decided to stick around.”

“Where else would I’ve gone?” I murmured.

The fact Ethan knew I’d considered just saying fuck it and leaving more than once—not him , not really, just…

everything. The town, the weres and shifters, my own history here—it made me feel guilty and uncomfortable.

Cowardly. In my heart of hearts, I knew I’d never just bail on Ethan or Belmarais, on anything that was going on now, but…

the daydream was there sometimes, on my worst days.

“Tell me about Chicago. I haven’t been there in years.

Is that hot dog place still on Maxwell Street? ”

“Hot dogs.” Ethan’s grimace was audible in his voice. “Those are just lips and assholes. Why would I go all the way to Chicago to eat a hot dog? There’s this place on Swift, though. Have you ever had falafel?”

I closed my eyes, shifting onto my side and letting his voice seep into my veins. Hours and hours later, when I woke up to the shrill of my alarm, I had a sore throat.