Page 168 of White Wolf
Big mistake.
The room tilted and she slapped at the front of her dresser, damp palm skidding against the wood. How could she be sweating if she was this cold? Did she have a fever? Did she…
But no. She knew why. As horrifying as it was to contemplate, she had to face facts that she hadn’t simply been dreaming all night. Healthy, stone-cold sober people didn’t pass out on the floor and dream up elaborate family histories about Russian werewolves and vampires. If she’d had to guess, she would have said she felt exactly like someone whose mind had been hijacked.
“Jesus,” she said again, just a whisper this time.
Slowly, the room righted itself and her vision cleared. The awful dizziness seemed to pass. The chills eased.
Sasha had said something, just before the connection was lost. We want to meet you. They were here, in the city.
There was just enough light to make out the small, familiar shape of the bell on the floor beside her. She reached for it now with no hesitation; of all the things she’d learned, this bell was the least of it. She lifted it to her face, close enough to make out all its dings and scars. It felt the same – smooth from years of handling, cool from sitting out – but heavier almost. It heldmeaningnow. This was a family heirloom, yes, but before that had always lent itself to vague ideas of dusty old men smoking in fancy pre-Revolution Russian salons. Now, she could see the faces of the people it had belonged to before her: the ruthless mage, Monsieur Philippe; the troubled tsarina, Alexandra; her great-great-grandmother, keeping it hidden and safe, a talisman against the Communists. And then Nikita. With his beautiful blue-gray eyes, and his deep sadness, and deep love, and the sound of his tired heart breaking in a clearing where the snow ran red.
A lump formed in her throat and she curled her hand tight around the bell.We want to meet you. She was going to meet them. Right the hell now.
Her cellphone dinged, and she got unsteadily to her feet to retrieve it from her bedside table. She had a new text message from an unfamiliar number.
This is Sasha. Followed by a string of smiley faces and the wolf face emoji.
Her smile started deep in her gut and bloomed across her face with an accompanying joy that made her teeth ache. She clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to keep it from growing even more. They were real.They were real.
Where can I find you guys?she sent back.
He sent an address that instantly brought to mind a tired brick façade with unchecked ivy growing over the ironwork bars on the ground-floor windows. She knew that building, could be there in ten minutes.
She was in the process of tapping out a response when she heard her couch springs creak in the other room.
Lanny.
Oh shit, how had she forgotten Lanny? She hadn’t, not really, but when she heard him roll over, heard the soft sound of the knitted throw sliding to the floor, the last vestiges of her vision faded away and she was left staring down the barrel of cold reality.
Her great-grandfather the vampire, and his werewolf BFF were currently living in New York…and one of them might be her murder suspect.
Shit.
Her partner was a) hungover, b) not going to believe this shit, and c) dying.
Double shit.
She let out a shaky breath. And then her phone rang. Thankfully, her voice was steady. “Baskin.”
“Trina, this is Harvey,” the ME said, and her normally no-nonsense tone sounded off. “I don’t know how to say this and not sound like an idiot. But. Well. Your DB from the club with the bite wound? Yeah, it’s missing.”
~*~
She took a hot, fast shower that went a long way toward waking her up fully, and then popped a K-Cup of dark roast into the Keurig for good measure.
“Fuck off,” Lanny mumbled when she shook his shoulder, turning his face into the back of the couch, eyes squeezed shut tight.
He had both arms flung over his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a stripe of lean, taut belly that was pale in comparison to his arms and face. No shirtless sunbathing this summer, apparently.
Trina teased her nails across the exposed skin and he grunted and tried to pull his knees up. “There’s coffee.”
“Go away.”
She slapped his hip. “Get up, or I’ll pour the coffeeon you.”
“Ugh, you suck,” he said with great feeling, but struggled to a mostly-upright position, eyes still shut.
