Page 34 of Moonlighting with the Werewolf

Major? Admiral? Captain? Chief?Plenty of fun options.

Sasquatch walked past a line of chairs occupied by three people, slowing as we reached the door to the medical office. He posted himself in the center of the hallway, and I took that to mean I hadn’t been cleared to go anywhere else in the building.

I wanted to ask if Conall was around—and if he could tell my security detail, who acted more like a prison warden than a bodyguard, to lighten up—but since Sasquatch had already expressed he didn’t discuss werewolf matters, I suspected I’d get iced out. Choosing the higher route, I flashed him my most winning smile. “Thank you, Lieutenant Sasquatch. Couldn’t have made it here without you.”

Not even a flicker of amusement.

No disdain, either. So, win?

“I’ll let Sabine know you’re here, and she’ll bring Justin,” he said, withdrawing a phone from his pocket. Then he gestured to the people seated against the wall. “Go ahead and get started on the others.”

I saw the boy with the broken leg first. Sabine had fashioned a splint for him. I’d have to tell her what a good job she’d done, both because it was true, and also with the intention of preventing hurt feelings over my insistence we upgrade him to a cast. While the mom and son were annoyed at the slow healing, I informed them he was on track as far as the human timeline went, which they balked at.

I doubted relaying the dog timeline would’ve earned me a different reaction, so I sent them off and called in a woman named Claudia, who’d faceplanted on a rocky cliffside. She claimed to have jumped the ravine countless times before, which I believed while marveling that was a regular activity for her.

After treating Claudia’s scrapes and ensuring she hadn’t broken anything, I opened the door so she could head to wherever, right in time for Sabine to wheel Justin inside the room.

In a wheelbarrow. A first for me, and a laugh bubbled up at the sight, but I managed to swallow it down. Good thing, too, because once I got a better look at the wolf, I could tell something was wrong, even before I registered his weak whimper.

Sabine launched into an update, detailing his eating, bathroom habits, and how he yelped and whined whenever he moved. “He walked around for about an hour yesterday, which doesn’t strike me as enough time, but I couldn’t get him to do anything this afternoon besides sit in the sun. Do you thinkthat’s enough fresh air and exercise? I didn’t want to overtire him, either.”

Not having seen the guy in human form, I had no idea. And once again, I was hesitant to make dog comparisons.

Unshed tears glistened in Sabine’s eyes, along with the exhaustion and stress of caring for her brother the past couple of days. “I get that he doesn’t have his accelerated healing abilities, even though I don’t understand why, but I’m afraid something is horribly wrong.”

I agreed, but saying so would only upset her more, and it’d be harder to do my job if I needed to comfort both of them. “I’ll give him a thorough examination and see what’s going on. Would you like to have a seat in the hal?—”

“I’ve been the medical expert at this compound for years, and while I’m willing to admit you may be more qualified in certain areas, I’m not leaving him alone.”

“Okay.” I reached for her shoulder to deliver a consoling squeeze, but she sidestepped me, rolled Justin over to the exam table, and hefted him onto it.

The injured wolf trembled before flopping to the table in an exhausted pile of fur and bones, a high-pitched whine of pain accompanying the movement. Sabine’s gaze darted to me, begging me to fix her brother, and as I slipped on a pair of gloves, I hoped like hell that I could.

Usually this would be the point in the examination where I asked a pet owner how long their furry companion had been acting strange. But one, this situation was already odd; and two, I feared I’d end up with two patients, Sabine was already strung so tight.

All I had with me was a rectal thermometer, as most dogs chewed up anything I put into their mouths, so thank goodness Justin had remained in wolf form. Still, Sabine lurched forward and caught my wrist when I lifted his tail.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“I assumed the thermometer would clue you in. I realize you’re concerned, but if you’re going to remain in the room, you need to let me do my job.”

Sabine bared her human teeth at me, the effect not any less disturbing than had she used the lupine version. But she took a whole step back, her bated breath warming my neck as I confirmed her brother was running a fever, coming in at a toasty 105 degrees.

Which led me to run my hand over his tan coat.

At his loud yelp, Sabine eradicated the already minimal space between us. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I knew I should’ve called you yesterday when he hadn’t improved. I thought I was overreacting, and it’s so frustrating that he can’t tell me what’s going on. Now if he dies, it’ll be all my fault.”

I turned to face her, summoning my patience and injecting my words with as much reassurance as I could. “My guess is he has a secondary infection. It’s not uncommon in animals after a surgery or large wound. But again, if you don’t give me room, it’ll be that much harder for me to diagnose and take care of.”

My heart twanged as Sabine backed up against the wall, a stream of tears escaping as she put her hand over her mouth. As if that wasn’t enough pressure, she whispered, “He’s the only family I have.”

I expelled a long breath and returned to examining the wolf. Carefully, I felt around the spot that’d caused the pained cry, and sure enough, the site radiated heat. The skin around his wound was also purplish red and inflamed.

I snagged a scalpel out of my kit and made a small incision. At my gentle push, yellowish discharge exploded from the wound with an oozing gush. “Jackpot.”

“What did you win?” a familiar deep voice asked.

The sight of Conall in the doorway caused my heart to go all fluttery. A hint of embarrassment over how brazen I’d been over the phone whorled into the mix, and all the words I wanted to say crashed onto the tip of my tongue, forcing out the worst possible option. “A whole lot of pus.”

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