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  “Elise?” I must have been staring at the wolf for quite a while, because Nic’s expression was troubled. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Totem.”

  “Like totem pole?”

  “No. The Ojibwe clan system uses totems or dodiams. Tiny icons that hold spiritual power—the essence of a clan animal.”

  “You don’t actually believe an icon can hold power? That an animal has an essence?”

  “What I believe doesn’t matter. They believe it.” And a lot more. “You don’t put any store in power? Magic? The supernatural?”

  “No.”

  It would be interesting to prove him wrong, but I didn’t have the time.

  “Do the Ojibwe live around here?” he asked.

  I resisted the urge to sneer. Why would a stuffed-shirt FBI agent know which Indian tribes were common to the area, even though he should?

  “In Montana there are Sioux, Crow, Blackfoot, to name a few. The Ojibwe live in Minnesota, Canada, and Wisconsin.”

  “Wisconsin?” His head went up. “Where Mandenauer is.”

  Since he wasn’t asking a question, I didn’t bother to answer.

  “Strange,” he continued.

  I had to agree. Discovering an Ojibwe icon in Montana, while Edward resided in the land from whence it came, was too much of a coincidence for comfort. However, I didn’t know what it meant.

  I took the talisman from Nic’s palm, then glanced at the rabbit. More arrows than one were pointing me to the land of milk and cheese.

  “Come on. We’re almost to the shed.” I pocketed the tiny white wolf and stepped over the dead brown bunny. As I did, I heard a muffled growl.

  “Hungry?”

  I glanced at the fur and blood. “No.”

  The muffled growl hadn’t come from me but from the totem in my pocket.

  Chapter 6

  I couldn’t tell Nic. He didn’t believe in magic. He’d take me to the nearest hospital, lock me up and throw away the key. Then we’d have real trouble, since my medication had blown up with the compound.

  Me, locked inside, with the full moon less than a week away. Big trouble. However, that was the least of my worries at the moment.

  We reached the shed; Nic inspected the place with typical FBI precision. No one was inside. No one had tampered with the ATV.

  “I’ll drive,” I said.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t get to think. I know where we’re going.”

  “I could figure it out,” he grumbled, but he climbed on behind me.

  I could tell by the tenseness of Nic’s thighs against mine, and the tiny starts he was unable to stop every time the ATV tipped a little too far to one side, that he wasn’t used to riding them, and he didn’t care for anyone else to be in control.

  We reached the highway, a loose term for any paved road in the vicinity, and I took off at the fastest clip the ATV would allow—about thirty miles per hour. Driving at top speed without a helmet wasn’t my idea of fun, even though I had nothing to fear from a head injury. Nic, however, did.

  “It’s going to take us two hours or more to get to town,” he shouted.

  “Got a better idea?”

  His silence was answer enough.

  We traveled at a pace slower than the average wolf, which could run forty miles per hour on a bad day. Super-wolves, in other words, lycanthropes, could top that speed with ease.

  As I drove I considered the icon in my pocket. Was the totem a clue? A threat? An accident? I needed to show the talisman to Will Cadotte, our expert on Native American mysticism. Conveniently, he was in Wisconsin with Edward.

  Had the thing truly growled? I would have said no, except Nic had heard it, too.

  I’d never observed any supernatural behavior from the black totem, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been any.

  Jessie McQuade, a J-S agent and former police officer, swore she’d seen the totem move on its own. Who was I to say she was nuts?

  We continued in silence for close to an hour. Talking was pointless with the roar of the motor and the thunder of the wind. But I didn’t need words to hear Nic loud and clear. The press of his thighs wasn’t the only thing I felt.

  He’d missed me, in more ways than one.

  His palms rode my waist; his thumbs slid under my suit coat and toyed with the skin just above my panty hose. His breath teased the hair that had fallen loose from my customary French twist.

  I had to be honest with him. What had been between us once could never be again, despite the treacherous response of my body to his. I had too many secrets I couldn’t share. Too much work that had to be done. Too many monsters that wanted me dead.

  I half-expected him to cup my breasts, then latch his mouth onto my neck and suckle. Legs wide as I straddled the seat, the wind shot up my skirt, stirring me where I needed no help being stirred. His fingertips grazed the swell of my rear.

  “Nic.” Protest, plea—I wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter. The wind flung the word into the night.

  Snow began to fall—thick, fluffy flakes that would soon obscure the road. I had to concentrate. We needed to reach a town before the storm hit, or worse. I was already half-frozen and I was certain Nic was, too. But it was impossible to think as Nic’s hand slid across my skin, palm warm, hard, flat against my belly. Lucky no one was on the highway except us. Or so I thought.

  I lifted my gaze, then swerved to avoid the huge black wolf in the middle of the road. The right wheel slipped off the pavement, and we were airborne.

  Providence was on our side, and we were thrown clear. Most ATV injuries are the result of the machine falling on top of the riders. As it was, I landed on my shoulder and something crunched.

  Ignoring the pain, I scrambled to my feet. Nic lay at the edge of the tree line. He wasn’t moving.

  The wolf swung his head toward me. Light gray, human eyes shone in a feral face.

  “Billy.”

  I should have known he hadn’t died. Guys like him never did. It would take something worse than a firebomb to put an end to Billy Bailey.

  But where had he been? Had it taken him some time to heal his injuries, then dig his way out of the rubble? What about the others? Had they survived, as well?

  I strained my ears but heard only the wind, sniffed the air and caught nothing but the scent of snow and crazy Billy. Either the rest of my basement wolves had found freedom, then scattered, or they were ashes and Billy was a lot more powerful than I’d thought. And wasn’t that just special?

  Billy’s head cocked; his tongue lolled, almost as if he were laughing. He probably was.

  I fingered the gun in my pocket. I could put every bullet into Billy, and it wouldn’t slow him down. If I stayed in this form, he’d kill me—if I was lucky—then move on to Nic.

  I was going to have to shift.

  However, such things took time, and at mid-shift I’d be defenseless. Billy had no scruples. He’d wait until the worst possible moment, then attack. Nevertheless, I had to take the risk, hope my changing at all would confuse him long enough for me to assume another form.

  I managed to kick off my shoes—I hated it when my paws burst through them—but I didn’t have the chance to remove anything else. Not that I’d strip in front of Billy even if I had a week.

  As I lifted my face, snowflakes brushed my cheeks, stuck to my eyelashes, prickled my nose. I pushed aside the sensory distractions and thought of the moon.

  If it had been full I wouldn’t have had to try. Without the round silver disc that pulled like the ebb and flow of the tide, the transformation was a bit harder, especially for those with stunted imaginations.

  I bet Billy had had a damn hard time getting furry tonight.

  He growled. I was up to something, but he didn’t know what. Pretty soon he’d get sick of wondering, come over here and kick my ass. With me still a woman, and him already a beast, he’d have no trouble at all.

  Staring at the black velvet sky, I envisioned t
he cool metallic white of the moon spilling across my face. I smelled the wind, the trees, the earth. Night. The totem in my pocket shimmied, and my favorite suit split at the seams.

  The shifting of bones, the curving of spine, usually produced agony. Going from bipedal to quadrapedal wasn’t supposed to feel good. My skin would burn when the fur came. My fingers and toes always ached as they sprouted claws. My face hurt as my nose and my mouth melded into a snout.

  I loathed getting furry—always had, maybe I always would if I never discovered a cure—but pain was the least of it. I hated being covered with hair, sprouting a tail. The drooling, the panting, the howling, and I never could get the dirt out from under my fingernails. Becoming a werewolf was hell on a manicure.

  But tonight, the transformation was painless. Tonight I thought about being a wolf, and suddenly I was.

  Billy yelped. I was the fastest changer in the West. A damned werewolf savant. Something peculiar was going on, but I didn’t have time to figure out what.

  Werewolves not only have human eyes, they possess human intelligence. I knew what I had to do and why, so without giving Billy time to think, I charged. This wasn’t fun and games but a fight to the death. Billy would come after me, and he’d keep on coming until he had what he wanted.

  Me.

  I’d rather be dead than Billy Bailey’s sex slave. That knowledge gave me an edge. I hit him hard, and he tumbled onto his back.

  Either confusion had slowed his reactions, or I’d suddenly become faster than the average werewolf. Maybe both. My teeth grazed Billy’s throat before he sent me flying.

  I landed on the same shoulder that had hit the ground when I’d flown off the ATV, and I whimpered. Without human blood, I wouldn’t heal completely tonight, though just becoming a wolf would improve any injury faster than it was possible to explain.

  Billy struck me broadside before I could roll onto all fours. I slammed into the dirt hard enough to make my ears ring. I had a difficult time focusing.

  He could have killed me then, if he hadn’t been an insane sadomasochist. Instead of going for my jugular, he drew blood from my belly, and then licked it away.

  Disgust flowed through me, followed closely by anger. Using my legs, my claws, I threw him free, then I did what he hadn’t. Jumping on top, I latched onto Billy’s throat and pulled.

  Though I tried to get out of the way, blood sprayed my face and chest. I scuttled backward, not even waiting to see Billy’s human eyes go wolf as he died.

  I shifted into a woman more quickly than I ever had before. My clothes a torn tangle, I still managed to cover myself adequately. Scooping a handful of snow, I let it melt in my palm so I could scrub away some of the blood and the dirt.

  Remembering the slash to my stomach, I lifted my suit. Nothing. I rolled my shoulder. Not a twinge.

  Had the talisman granted speedy healing powers along with swift changing ability? Apparently so.

  I could get used to this.

  I knelt next to Nic as his eyes opened, crossed, then focused on my face. “I saw a wolf.”

  “I know. I almost hit him.”

  “No.” He tugged my hair, loose now and swirling around my shoulders. “With fur like this and . . . “ He frowned. “Your eyes.”

  I kept my face neutral, even as my heart threatened to choke me. Nevertheless, when I spoke, my voice was as cool as the breeze. “You must have bumped your head a lot harder than I thought.”

  Chapter 7

  Nic sat up, groaned, fell back.

  I caught him before he cracked his head against the ground again. “Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

  “You’re a doctor.”

  “Not that kind.”

  “I’m all—” His voice faded, and his eyes closed as he slumped in my arms.

  He was out cold, so I gave in to the urge that had been haunting me since I’d first seen him in the doorway. Pressing my lips to his forehead, I breathed in the familiar scent of his hair.

  All the feelings rushed back with a force that staggered me. I’d known I still loved him, but I hadn’t realized that I always would.

  Once we’d dreamed of sharing a life: marriage, careers, family. Together, we would never be alone again. I longed for that normal life—a normal me. But I’d come to understand that even if I cured myself, there were things I’d done in the interim for which there could be no forgiveness. Nic was as lost to me now as he’d been the first night I changed.

  The wind slapped snow against my face. The drop in temperature had turned the fluffy flakes into icy needles. I smelled death—probably just Billy’s. Nevertheless, we had to keep moving. With the clouds covering the moon, the road was dark. Though there wasn’t much of a chance a car would come along and run over us ... then again, one might.

  Taking advantage of Nic’s momentary lapse of consciousness, I lowered him to the ground and hurried to the ATV. After a quick glance to make sure he was still out, I picked up the machine and set it back on the road. There was a dent in one side, a bit of dirt on the other, but when I started the engine, it worked.

  Nic began to come around. I tugged on his arm, grunting as if he were “oh, so heavy,” though I could have lifted him with one hand. “Wanna help me out a little?”

  “Sorry, I’m—”

  “Hurt,” I supplied when he seemed to lose his thought again.

  Thankfully, he was too spacey to notice how much I helped him as he got to his feet, too woozy to see that my clothes were torn and I had flecks of blood in my hair.

  I hoisted Nic onto the ATV, crawled behind, then adjusted his body so that I could see, drive, and hold on to him. If I hadn’t had superpowers, I wouldn’t have been able to manage, making this one of the first times I was glad to be what I was.

  Nic drifted in and out of consciousness. I’d wondered how to make him stop asking questions. I’d have preferred another method.

  The wind shifted, or we were able to get ahead of the storm, because the highway outside of Clear Lake was dry, the forest surrounding it devoid of white. Most of the businesses on the main drag were closed, probably had been for a while. The town was small, innocent, clueless.

  I’d been toying with the idea of dumping Nic with a doctor—they had to have one—then disappearing again. But an hour on the ATV with little to do beyond think had nixed that idea.

  Billy might be dead, but Billy hadn’t blown up the compound. Whoever had, could be right behind us.

  Nic would say he was a highly trained FBI agent; he could take care of himself. But I knew better. To werewolves he’d be an easy lunch. No matter how dangerous it was for us both, I was going to have to take him along to Wisconsin.

  I pulled into the only gas station in Clear Lake. The attendant stepped outside. His gaze wandered over my torn suit, the spatters of blood and the leaves in my hair, then flicked to Nic’s lolling head. With the typical understatement that characterized inhabitants west of the Mississippi, he murmured, “Trouble?”

  “Nearly hit a ... deer. We flipped.”

  The story, close enough to the truth to be believable, explained Nic’s injuries and my appearance.

  “Need a doctor?”

  “No.” Nic struggled to sit up. “I’m okay.”

  The attendant’s brows drew together. “If you say so.”

  Nic tried to prove it by climbing off the ATV. He wobbled, but he didn’t fall down.

  “You know where I can buy some clothes?”

  As the word buy left my mouth, I realized I had no money. I glanced at Nic; he was already extracting his wallet.

  “And a car,” he added, pulling out an obscene amount of cash.

  “Got some T-shirts and sweatpants for sale inside.” The man scratched his head as he contemplated the money. “Car we’ll have to talk about.”

  I hesitated, prepared to deal, but Nic waved me away. “I’ll handle the car.”

  I let him. The less time we hung around, the better. Inside I snagged a pair of gray sweatpan
ts and an equally cheery gray T-shirt. Making use of the restroom, I stripped off my torn and dirty suit. After extracting the wolf totem, I tossed the clothes into the nearly full garbage can. Holding the tiny bit of plastic between two fingers, I stared into the sparkly blue eyes.

  The idea that something this small, this tacky, could carry enough power to make me super-duper wolf was laughable. But standing in a dirty women’s restroom in the middle of nowhere, I didn’t feel like laughing.

  I shoved the talisman into the pocket of my new sweatpants just as I remembered the little wolf wasn’t the only thing that had been in my skirt.

  Both the list of names Nic had given me and his .38 were missing. I must have dropped them somewhere along the road. I didn’t care about the list, but the gun might have been good for a bluff or two.

  Since I couldn’t go back for the weapon now, I shoved my bare feet into my tennies and picked one last flake of blood from my hair. My nails looked as if I’d been burying dead bodies in the woods, which was close enough to the truth to make me worry. I could only hope that the people we met between here and Wisconsin were less concerned with personal hygiene than I was.

  When I exited the bathroom, I found the attendant behind the register. I peered around the station, which was packed ceiling to floor with chips, soda, candy, and borderline pornography. But no Nic.

  “I sold your friend a car.”

  From the man’s grin, the deal had been sweet. Of course, we couldn’t exactly be choosy. We had to get out of here, and we couldn’t do that on an ATV.

  “He went across the street to pick it up.”

  Though I didn’t like Nic being out of my sight for more than a minute, his absence did give me time to do something I should have done before now.

  “Do you have a phone?”

  He pointed to the wall behind me.

  I considered the risks. I doubted anyone would have thought to put a bug on this particular phone, and Edward always had his own lines meticulously swept for listening devices. By the time someone traced the call, Nic and I should be long gone. I punched in the numbers as the clerk moved off to refill a potato chip display.