Page 7 of Secretary's Obsession

George, still in bear form, glared at his friend. Dougal was a troll and had been with the forest since it was a half a dozen shoots, hoping to become something substantial. He and Dougal had spent many happy hours sitting around the campfire, shooting shit about nothing at all, and George always appreciated the friendship. Dougal was one person who was not put off by his brusque manner.

“Word on the wind is that your cab got totaled by a random demon with a grudge against Merihem after he found his blissful one.”

That had George sitting back on his haunches, his head tilted.

Realization blossomed all over Dougal’s face. “Oh, shit George. Did you think the accident had something to do withbefore?”

Thebeforetimes were something George spilled his guts about one night after too much shifter booze. Only to Dougal, only the once, and they’d never spoken about it since. For Dougal to bring it up now…

Sighing, George realized there was a shit ton of things he couldn’t say in his bear form, so he shifted. “Pass me my pants,” he grumbled, rubbing his head with his hand. It wasn’t as bad as it was before the shift, although hitting the tree with it probably hadn’t helped. But the drugs were now fully out of his system.

“You can’t blame me for thinking that,” he said as he lifted one foot and then the other, stepping into pants still covered in road grime. “You’re saying the attack was leveled at Merihem?”

“Drink this.” Dougal shoved a steaming cup into his hand. “Have a seat.”

George parked his butt on a fallen log while Dougal sat beside him.

“According to the word flying around the forest, Merihem was the target of the demon who smashed into your cab. The guy was the one who has taken over Merihem’s position in the demon realm, although from what I’ve heard, Merihem will be getting his position back before long.”

Not for the first time, George wondered where Dougal got his information from, but his friend had never been wrong before, especially about the demon realm.

“Doesn’t make any difference to me, does it?” George took a swig from his mug and then stared at the dark liquid. “My cab’s still smashed up, someone filled me full of a non-shifting drug, landing me in hospital, and…”

“What the fuck? You were drugged?”

“See,” George pointed at Dougal, “You understand. Yes, I was drugged. Someone at the accident scene knew I was a shifter. I wasn’t in any state to say anything, so god knows how they knew, but the moment I regained consciousness, my bear should’ve taken over and helped me heal. Instead, I wake up in a piss-ass hospital bed, separated from everyone else by a fucking curtain, with my feet falling over the edge of the bed, my body fighting the drugs, and not an ounce of care in sight.”

“How did they know? For all intents and purposes, when the paramedics arrived, if anything, they should’ve given you something to help you shift at the scene—a shot of adrenalin or something. You’d have healed and gone on your merry way. Most shifters never see the inside of a hospital.”

“There you go. That’s what I thought. So, was it any wonder I think something else is going on?”

“Perhaps the paramedic was a shifter,” Dougal offered. “They could’ve scented you were a shifter and even what type.”

George snorted. “What paranormal in any occupation would willingly drug a fellow shifter to stop them shifting when they needed to heal? What if my bear had come through in a human hospital? Think about what would’ve happened if I’d shifted before I was fully conscious. Trapped in a tiny room with no privacy and all those horrible smells…my bear would’ve run amuck, probably leaving a half a dozen patients with heart attacks as he tried to find a way out. It’s why shifters don’t belong in the hospital in the first place.”

“Is it possible they thought you’d sustained a more serious injury, perhaps?”

“I had a head injury. The cab flipped, and I went with it. I have a strong suspicion I owe that demon Merihem thanks for pulling me out, but still, a head injury for a shifter does not require a hospital visit.”

“That does sound strange then, but how would anyone from before know it was you in the cab?”

Scratching the side of his head, George grimaced. “We have to provide proof of ID when we get a license to run a cab in the first place. They could’ve tracked that. I accept, okay, from what you’ve said that was no bloody accident, and that it happened because of Merihem. What if someone else was waiting in the wings for an opportunity, and when they saw I was unconscious, they ran with it?”

“Still doesn’t explain the hospital.”

“Actually, yes, it does.” George resisted the urge to grab his balls and make sure they were still intact. “Where better to harvest my spunk and insert it in someone else?” He sighed. “Okay, I’m probably growling up the wrong tree, but it’s all damn weird, and then with that cutie demon just standing there—”

“You got a cutie demon as a nurse, and you still escaped?” Dougal grinned. “You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

“He wasn’t a nurse. Apparently, he works for Dakata, and can I just say he must be on a damn good salary because I’m sure his suit cost more than my cab.”

“Most demons dress like that.” Dougal laughed. “What was he doing at your bedside if he works for Dakata? Was he making sure you weren’t going to sue Merihem or something?”

“Merihem sent him.”See, he hadn’t actually come to see you, he was following orders.“Apparently, Merihem was well enough after the crash to tell Scott to take care of my account at the hospital and anything else I needed.”

“Very accommodating of them, but then Silas and Dakata truly appreciate you, as do the rest of us who live here. I hope you know that.”

George glanced across at his friend. “What did you put in this coffee? For a moment, I could swear you were handing out compliments.”

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