Night Shift

Chapter Twenty-two

My pager was battered and busted despite its padded pocket. The lightning hadn't helped; even insulated electronics can have a little problem when you start messing around with potential-paths in thunderstorms. I had a spare at home, courtesy of the Santa Luz Police department, and I needed more ammo anyway.

And—I'll admit it—I was feeling a little shaky.

Cancel that. A lot shaky.

I pulled through silver curtains of rain into the garage, was out of the car in a heartbeat, and walked through the utility room. It felt good to be home, for the first five seconds.

Then I realized entire place was buzzing and resounding. Unhappy Weres will do that.

I didn't blame them for being upset. If they'd lost the rogue they were likely to be a little more than upset. They'd be downright cranky. Which meant more food. It's a wonder they weren't all butterballs. Damn Weres.

Of course, their metabolisms run high and hot, like mine, and the change is metabolically expensive. I just had a hellbreed scar working on forcing my body to heal fast enough to stand up to the abuse I was taking.

I was hanging up my coat when I discovered they were arguing, and not quietly either. The acoustics of my home are good for a reason, I like to know when even a roach is scuttling in the walls.

Not that I have a roach problem. Sorcery is occasionally a practical thing.

"How am I going to tell your mother this?" Harp's voice, raised as it seldom was, edged like an axe and flung at someone.

"You won't have to." Saul Dustcircle's tone was quieter, but no less sharp. I hadn't heard this particular tone from him before, and I was glad of it. "I am not a kit, Harper. I'll tell her my damn self, like I should."

"What are you going to do?" Harp hit a pitch usually only reserved for a screaming-meemie fit at Dominic during a bad stakeout or shadowing. I couldn't remember ever hearing her sound this upset, even that time they came out to help Mikhail deal with the hellbreed who used to run Santa Luz.

The one who had declared it open season on Weres, and did his best to turn the barrio into a death-hole. I hadn't been allowed out onto the streets during that, since I'd barely started my training. But I'd heard plenty, and seen enough of it to fill in most of the blanks afterward—especially in my nightmares.

Saul's voice, again. "I'm going to do what I should, for once. Don't push it, Smith. I've made up my mind."

"You're a stubborn, arrogant, self-centered—"

I came around the corner out of the utility room to find Dominic leaning against the wall in the short hallway. His hair was pulled back into its leather-wrapped club, but a single tendril fell in his face, a sure sign of exhaustion. He nodded and laid one long finger over his lips, then made a pushing-down motion with his hand.

In other words, stay out of this one, Jill. It's Harp on the rampage again.

"That's enough." I almost didn't recognize Saul's voice. A touch of growl to it shook the walls and rattled the ikon of the Virgin hung in the hall, a gift to Mikhail from Father Gui over at Sacred Grace Seminary. I'd only heard this tone from a Were once or twice, usually an alpha snarling at a pack member who'd stepped out of line in a big way. "I didn't ask for your editorial. I did not ask you what you thought. I told you what I'm going to do, and that's final. I'm of age, I'm legal, and I've made up my goddamn mind. End of story."

Harp changed tactics. "Your sister—"

"Don't you dare." Saul's whisper was more effective than a shout. "Don't bring the dead into the business of the living. You know better."

Dominic saw his moment and took it. "Hey, Jill." He didn't have to say it very loudly, they all probably knew I was here. That's the drawback to good acoustics; everyone knows when I'm at home.

Unless, of course, I don't want them to.

I folded my arms to disguise the way my hands were shaking. Dried blood crackled in my hair and along my hairline as I lifted an eyebrow. "Heard the rogue slipped through."

"Only a matter of time. Weres are patrolling the entire city. When we flush him again, it'll be the last run he'll ever have." His dark eyes traveled down my body, and his nostrils flared a little. "You look awful. What happened?" He jerked a thumb at the end of the hall and lifted both eyebrows, an eloquently silent warning. Good old Dominic.

"Got tangled up with our rogue's girlfriend. Tossed her into a Sanctuary's window." With Perry waiting down the street, for some nefarious purpose, no doubt. I didn't mention that part. I also didn't mention that I'd been lured down there by one of them, and I wasn't sure yet which one.

Dominic actually laughed, a mellow, relaxed sound. He had a nice face, attractive in a strong-jawed way. His sidearm was briefly visible as he reached up to tuck the one stray strand of hair behind his ear, an absently graceful motion. "You have all the fun. I just ran my ass off after a rogue who seems to know how to disappear."

"Yeah, well, it's been rough all 'round today." I followed him out into the south end of the living room, wishing the house was empty so I could start shedding clothes. A shower sounded really good right about now. Along with a nap, and a case of Scotch—and a flamethrower to take care of some unruly hellbreed.

Harp dropped down on my couch, pale with anger. Even the feathers in her hair seemed bleached, and they were slightly askew—just as shocking, in its way, as Dominic's mussed hair. They were both so contained and precise that the small imperfections blared like a bullhorn.

Saul, his arms crossed over his chest, dropped his hands to his sides. His face was pale and drawn under his coppery coloring, and his eyes were live coals, more like a cat's than I'd seen before. He looked literally spitting mad as he glared at Harp, and I had the sudden mental image of a housecat with every hair on end, eyeing a dog. Since they were both feline Weres, the image was even funnier.

I managed not to laugh. But it was a close call.

Saul's eyes met mine, and the entire world stopped for a moment.

It was still there. That electric sense of contact, as if he knew something about me. Saw something about me, something nobody—even Mikhail—had ever bothered to look for.

It wasn't fair. What gave him the right to look at me like that?

"You okay?" Saul's gaze didn't move, but he would have had to be blind not to see that I'd been dipped in blood and air-dried, then dumped in again and run through a downpour once or twice.

Rain beat at the roof, splashing and overflowing the gutters. We would have flash floods out in the desert, and maybe a brief blossoming. Greased ball bearings of thunder fell through the roulette wheels in the sky. Maybe God was gambling with human lives again, hoping for a better turnout.

"Been worse." I seemed to have lost most of my breath. I wish he'd stop staring at me like that. "You?"

"Been better." The corner of his mouth quirked up. I could feel it in my own lips.

Oh, yeah. Something strange is going on here. I got a good deep breath in. We looked at each other. I could almost feel a taut line humming between us—me leaning back away from the connection, him shifting slightly to lean forward, pursuing it.

"You hungry?" The fur had gone down, and his tone softened.

I still got the idea that wasn't what he was really asking.

"I could do with a bite." I didn't look away. I got the idea that wasn't what I'd really answered.

"I'm on it." He turned sharply on his heel, his coat flaring briefly open. Stopped. Swung back, as if he'd forgotten something. "I'm glad you're all right," he said, abruptly. Like a challenge.

Not now. Don't pick a fight with me now. "Me too." I could have slapped myself, it was such a stupid answer. I was trying to be conciliatory, a new skill for me. "I'm glad you're okay, too. I mean. Yeah."

Who said you couldn't teach an old hunter new tricks?

Dominic made a slight muffled noise. When I swung around to look at him he wore an angel's innocent face, his mouth pressed down tamely and his eyes roaming away, searching for something to fix on.

"You two." Harp leaned back on the couch, the curve of her throat exposed and her arm flung over her eyes. A single feather fluttered out of her hair, came to rest on the orange Naugahyde, and I suffered a deep acute flash of shame for the shabbiness of my house. "Can we please have some answers here? What the fuck is going on?"

Just like the forensic techs; she didn't deal well with this kind of uncertainty either.

I took a deep breath. Saul's eyes were very deep, very dark, and quiet.

I dropped the bomb. "I saw Cenci, at Galina's. She didn't initially try to shoot me." That got me everyone's attention and a full ten seconds of silence, which I broke by dropping the other shoe. "I think she might need help. I think she and the rogue are together, and I have it on good authority that the 'breed female's pregnant. She might be carrying a hybrid."