That’s when Peter went for her.
I was too far away. Even as I leaped, Josh hit Peter from the side, throwing off his aim. I landed between Keen and Peter and turned, snarling at him. My dog yelped and cowered behind me.
For a moment, Peter pulled himself tall on all four legs, every hair standing erect. I matched his body language, not backing down an inch, while my heart pounded. I didn’t want to fight Peter. But, what the hell?
Josh backed up to stand beside me. He held his head lower than Peter’s out of respect, but his lips pulled back from his teeth.
“No, Petur,” he said.
Peter blinked and shook his head, pawing at it as though his brain hurt. Then he made a strange woofing noise, turned, and vanished into the woods with a single leap.
Part of me wanted to follow, to pin him down and ask him what the hell just happened. Because I was pretty sure I’d just seen Peter lose control of his wulf. Josh nudged me, and I saw the fear in his gaze. As we headed back, Josh running beside me with his tail low, my heart pounded. Was this because of the brain damage? Was it affecting Peter’s control over the wulf? And if he lost control of his wulf—what would the enforcers have to do then?
As we loped along the path with Keen between us, my mind continued to fill with questions.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers.
* * *
I waited for Peter long after Josh had gone home.
“He’ll be beating himself up over this,” Josh said when he rose to leave. “He’ll run it out, so I wouldn’t expect him to return before morning.”
I stretched out on the deck lounger and waited. Eventually, I dozed, trusting Keen to wake me if Peter showed. Her anxious whine snapped me out of an uneasy half-sleep. I blinked to see the gray beast trotting from the woods with the first rays of the dawn, and I stood to greet him.
Peter changed back to human and walked up the stairs toward me. I attempted to keep my eyes on his face. I couldn’t get used to the nakedness. Keen slunk to him on her belly, and it made my heart hurt to see it.
He looked at her and then up at me.
“What’s wrong with Keen?”
He doesn’t remember. My jaw must have hit the deck because he frowned. He ran from it all night, and now he’s forgotten.
“You tried to attack her last night,” I said, watching his reaction.
His eyes turned dark with horror, followed by confusion. “I wouldn’t . . . she’s like my own dog.”
“It’s okay. It was a mistake. She came up to sniff the hare.”
“What hare?”
I fought to keep from frowning, but his words had my heart racing. “You flushed a hare and killed it. Keen came up to sniff it, and you lunged at her.”
“I killed a hare?” His eyes widened, and the pupils dilated oddly. “God, Liam, I’m sorry. Must have lost it for a minute there.”
And then forgot about it. I watched as he bent over to ruffle Keen’s fur until she wiggled.
“It’s okay. You’re still recovering. Do you feel all right now?”
“Yeah, fine. A little tired. I need to crash.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about this. Just get some sleep.”
“You been sitting here all night? You have to work.”
“I’ll be fine. Go to bed.”
He nodded and headed into the house, but he wore a troubled expression. I yawned and grabbed the rest of the Chinese food. Might as well have breakfast. When Keen looked at me and wagged her tail, I relented and tossed her a piece of ginger beef.
I had bigger worries than an overweight dog.
* * *
Apparently being tired and distracted was not a good combination for keeping my inner shaggy under control. I had clinic duty that morning and managed to terrify three cats and four dogs, two of which peed on the floor. Mandy shot me a look when she hauled the mop away from the last incident.
“Again! Excrement, Liam. What is up with you?”
I snorted at Mandy’s latest profanity substitution as Darlene swept by on the way to x-ray, a sedated dog in her arms. “Having trouble with your inner werewolf again?”
She wasn’t looking at me as she spoke, so she didn’t see my reaction at her offhand, but surprisingly accurate, comment. Mandy caught it, though.
Her face cracked with a rare smile. “You have an inner werewolf?” She shook her newly pink forelock out of her widening gaze.
I rolled my eyes at her and headed into the next room, where a client waited with a snake having issues shedding its eye caps—sometimes they stayed stuck when the rest of the skin shed. I sighed with relief, because reptiles usually reacted the same way to everyone, including wulves.
During my lunch break, I gathered the last of the chow mein from our fridge—ignoring a clear container holding a tumor waiting for analysis—and took myself and my troubled conscience out to my SUV to call Doc Hayek.
I watched an approaching storm darkening the sky as I explained the events of the previous night. “Should I be worried about Peter?” I asked him.
Although I wanted to hear everything would be fine, I knew in my heart it wasn’t.
“I expected there to be memory loss of that evening but continued short-term memory disruption may be a sign of other issues. It is possible the injury has triggered an early onset dementia. Only time will tell if it is permanent or temporary.”
My heart contracted sharply. “Could there be anything else causing it?”
“Peter’s not on any medication that I know of, so it isn’t a side effect. There are supplements designed to assist with memory issues.
