Changing Hearts (2 page)

Joie smiled sheepishly as she looked at the scar she still bore on her index finger. “Yes, ma’am, I think I learned my lesson with that one. How are we going to get him back to the cabin?”

“Don’t you worry none,
cher
. I brought us a good wool blanket. I just knew it was gonna be a big one. We’ll do him just like we did that bear cub.”

Joie nodded as
Tante
Kay set the flashlight aside. Together they maneuvered the wolf onto the blanket. Joie lifted a portion of the wolf while her godmother pulled the fabric under. It wasn’t fast, but it was the best they could do. Joie guessed his weight at nearly two hundred pounds. That had to be larger than any wolf she’d ever seen or heard of before. Once they had him firmly on the blanket, they began the slow walk back, dragging him along.

“Hooo,
cher
! This is one heavy wolf. Solid built.”

Joie nodded her agreement, but didn’t waste breath. It took every muscle in her body to move the beast mere inches at a time. The five-minute walk back to the cabin took nearly thirty minutes. The wolf whimpered from time to time, but didn’t open his eyes. By the time they reached the porch, sweat drenched both women.

They couldn’t take a break now. Joie went to her shed for herbs while
Tante
Kay disappeared inside only to reappear with hot water and bandages. Tante bathed the bloodied flaps of skin, then Joie sprinkled on an antiseptic powder before stitching it all back together. They did the same for his paw, only Joie splinted the broken bones. His ribs she wasn’t sure about.

Would he leave the bandages on long enough to let them heal?
She could only hope so. Most animals would worry at something like that until they got it off. The wolf stirred beneath her as she finished the last wrap.

“There now, sugar. Everything’s going to be all right. You’re safe.” She fell into a soothing singsong voice, hoping to relax him.

* * * * *

The sound of a soft voice reached him through the darkness of his own brain. The tones reminded him of a time so far in his past that it surprised him to remember it. His mother had once calmed him with similar sounds when he’d broken his arm.

Slade opened his eyes to mere slits as he listened to the voice that belonged to a sweet-smelling female. His mother had never smelled this good.

Extending his senses a bit, he realized that his wolf form still held. Something wrapped his midsection almost uncomfortably tightly, but he knew that it would offer necessary support for his ribs. His side ached where he’d been ripped into, but a minute twitch of the area assured him it had been cared for as well. He didn’t bother checking out his paw, he knew that would follow suit. Then he tried to open his mouth slightly. Something held his jaws shut.

Panic started to fill his mind, but the hands on his body reassured him. He knew by her voice and her actions that she meant him no harm.
Lilacs, she smells like sweet lilacs. Now where did that come from, Slade? Get your mind back on what’s happening.
He focused on the voice again to get his mind off the constraining thing around his mouth. He hated being tied like this. In fact, under certain circumstances, he preferred to do the tying.

“The only thing I learned in Atlanta,
Tante
, is that I’m happiest without people. I’ve found that animals never stop loving you back. Well, and you,
Tante
, you’ve never stopped loving me.” The woman shrugged slightly as she leaned over him to finish binding his ribs. Slade could feel his heartbeat increase at the press of her soft breasts against his side.

Joie ran her hand along the wolf’s side. His thick fur felt softer than it looked. He breathed easier now. In fact, the pattern of his breathing would have made her think him awake if his eyes weren’t closed. She glanced down. Was that a glint she saw from under his lids? She shook her head.

Wild animals didn’t have the kind of control necessary to feign unconsciousness. She wondered what had forced this immense creature into the swamps. Wolves weren’t native to Louisiana.

Tante
Kay laughed. “You’re my
petit chaton sauvage
, my little wildcat. You got the call, same as me. I used to spend hours by myself on the pirogue, just poling up and down the bayou. Remember, you gonna be a
traiteuse
. The outside, they call us faith healers, but it’s much more than that. What good is a well body if your mind isn’t well? It’s about using what the land gives, and what
Notre Bon Dieu
, the good Lord himself, gives.”

Joie nodded as her godmother talked. The bayou ran strong in her blood too. She’d tried to get away from it, running away from the place she felt she’d never quite fit.

The death of Joie’s parents right after her sixteenth birthday enabled her to spend the last two years of high school living—some might have said hiding—with
Tante
Kay. She’d gone to school in town, retreating to the cabin every day. Even with those two precious years of freedom, she’d still been eager to leave all of this behind, hitting the road for Atlanta the day she graduated.

Atlanta had not been a good move for her. Oh, she’d found a job and a man who said he wanted to marry her easily enough, but the bayou seemed to be the only place free of emotional manipulation.

When she remembered what had been asked of her—to abort the child she’d longed for… And then the pain of the loss, both mental and physical, while her so-called fiancé had been out partying with friends. She shrugged off the old memories and looked down at the wolf. An electric shock zinged her when her eyes met his. He hadn’t moved at all.
What kind of wolf is this?
His warm amber eyes focused on her face with single-minded intent.

Slade looked at her now with open curiosity.
What kind of woman is she?
She had taken him somewhere and tended his wounds as though he was her family pet. Now she met his gaze as though it were common to have a wolf in her home. Antiseptic smell made his nose wrinkle, but he sniffed again anyway. Underlying it all, her scent. He’d never known lilacs could be so inviting. She turned her attention back to the other woman.

He took a slow, even breath as he looked at this angel of mercy. Not much bigger than many human teenagers, he guessed her to be a little over five feet tall. Most would call her petite if not just plain tiny. But that would have meant they missed her shape. Slade drank in his fill. Her figure looked full, soft and round—lush sprang to his mind. Add long, curly auburn hair to the package and he thought she could make good money on Bourbon Street. She met his eyes with a soft intake of breath.

Her moss-green eyes enveloped him with warmth, compassion. It took him a moment to note that they had tears in them. He didn’t know if she cried for herself or for him. He blinked at the thought. No one had ever cried for him. He took it back. No way would she make it on Bourbon Street with such a soft heart.

“So, you’re awake.” Joie stared into eyes of amber. His eyes were an almost liquid gold that seemed to bore into her. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear this animal understood what was happening. She blinked that thought away.

Certainly intelligence lurked deep in those eyes. She thought that she’d never seen this kind of comprehension in any other injured animal. Joie laughed at herself. What a preposterous thought. As if! Still, she looked at him when she said, “I would like to take the muzzle off, but I’m afraid you’ll bite me.”

The wolf’s amber eyes stayed on hers as he slowly lifted his uninjured paw and rubbed it over the cloth binding his mouth. A soft noise accompanied the gesture.

“Take it off, girl.” The other voice he’d heard sounded loud in the silence. Slade turned his head slightly to stare at the wizened old woman standing on the porch. Slade growled softly as she moved closer.

Stop that,
Loup Garou
. Yes, I know what you are. Don’t scare the child. She’s trying to help you.

Slade’s mind whirled. The old woman had spoken straight to his mind. How had she done that? How had he heard her?
What are you?
He thought the words hard at her, hoping she could hear him as well.

Her answer told him that she had.
You know what I am, boy. The question is, who are you? Why are you in my bayou?

Slade broke eye contact with the older woman and looked at the younger one again.
Tell her to take the cloth off. I won’t hurt her.

I know you won’t.
The older woman pulled a large handgun out from behind her back. The barrel pointed straight at his head. “Untie his mouth,
cher
. He’s not going to do anything stupid.”

Slade could smell the silver. She knew what he was and she wasn’t afraid of him. Well, she was afraid of him, but she wasn’t so fearful that she would hesitate to pull the trigger and unload the gun in his head.

What are you, old woman?
He kept his eyes on the younger woman as she approached him. He could smell other animals nearby, but no humans other than the two women. It would be easy to overpower them except for the weapon in the older woman’s hands.

Slade was sure she would use it to protect the younger woman. He had no intention of hurting them. He only wanted to get away before the others found him.
Take the cloth off.

He felt his mental voice become more urgent and damned himself for it. He had to get away. She stared at him for a long moment.
You know I’ll shoot you if you try to hurt her. You know what I got in dis gun, for sure.

I know.
Slade rubbed his uninjured paw over his nose again. He had to get the binding off before he lost his mind. Claustrophobia closed its fist in on him with every passing second. How much longer could he fight off the panic? Then he felt her hands on him. A shiver went down his spine.

Who were these women, and why did this one affect him this way? As the binding came off his muzzle, he licked the place where it had rubbed. His tongue brushed her hand. Her taste matched her scent. He resisted the urge to do it again. The quick gasp from her had his ears flicking toward her. What an amazing sound!

Getting gingerly to his feet, Slade shook from his head to his tail, then immediately wished he hadn’t. Pain hit him, intense and immediate. Slade let his head fall as he panted softly.

The younger woman immediately moved closer to him. He couldn’t help it, he growled again deep in his throat. He wasn’t going to hurt her, but he just didn’t want her to touch him right then. The older woman snorted through her nose and shook her head at him.

You stop that noise, boy. My Joie, she’s a good girl.

Joie?
Slade let her name slide across his mind. First the old woman had called her a little wild kitten, though she wasn’t a shifter. Slade would bet his life on that. Hell, he already had, hadn’t he? If either of these women betrayed him, his life would mean nothing. His gut feeling told him they wouldn’t hurt him. That had to be wrong. They were human—he was shifter. They were the chickens to his fox, but they’d brought him into their home.

He considered the last time a human had ever treated him with anything other than curses or fists. Nearly every interaction he’d had with humans had turned out badly, from the time he’d been a child to the recent past. Humans meant trouble. Surely these two couldn’t be different.

One way or another, he’d been hurt or betrayed by every human he’d ever known. His hatred of their kind ran deep. Who did these women think they were? A few bandages and stitches wouldn’t make him any less cautious around them. Besides, they had already proven they were fools. Who in their right mind would drag an injured wolf onto their front porch?

He wanted to leap up, shift form, show them how dangerous that could be. Did they just pick up hitchhikers on the highway as well? Then he laughed at himself. Apparently Granny and her pistol gave them some sense of security. Besides, what did he care about the trouble they might get into? They were human, not Pack, he didn’t give a damn about them.

He lifted his head slowly to take a careful, deep breath. His side didn’t send the same shooting pain like before. The bandage the women had wrapped around him seemed to be helping. His paw throbbed, though. There would be no running on it until he could take care of it. And he needed to do that soon, before someone came looking for him. If Maggie had survived, she’d be looking for him if for no other reason than to finish what she’d started.

You have any water around here, old woman?
Slade let his eyes slide to the older woman. She chuckled softly as she put the gun away. He had no idea where she hid it. He couldn’t see any pockets in the voluminous robe she wore.

“Joie, get that creature some water.”

Slade stared at the old woman. In another time, another place he might have found something to admire about her stance, her entire attitude. The girl smiled at the older woman as she slipped past her into their living space. He saw the old woman’s eyes light up as she watched the girl go by. Slade shifted slightly and the old woman tensed. Her hand went back to wherever she’d hidden the gun.

Easy, old woman. I’m not going to hurt you.
The last thing he needed was for her to shoot him. Why in the hell did she have her gun loaded with silver bullets anyway?
You’ve dealt with my kind before.

It came out as a statement, not a question.

She simply smiled at him.
You don’t have to see the devil to know he exists,
Loup Garou
. How do they call you?

Slade.
Why he told her anything, he didn’t know. She had no right to be asking him these questions. Who the hell did she think she was?

The ones hunting you, they’ll know that name. You got another name, boy?

Slade shook his head at her. Impossible. How did she know? The old woman laughed, cackled, really. Her bright green eyes bored into him. Slade blinked a few times under that relentless gaze. What in the hell was she? She wasn’t a shifter, just something he had never come across before.