My Sister Is a Werewolf (9 page)

The neon lights were a beacon, just not the beacon they were designed to be, luring revelers in for a cold beer or a drink. He stared at the Miller Lite sign.

No, what lured him was the far-fetched idea that the bartender was somehow related to Elizabeth, all based on Brian’s offhanded comment that the bartender also had light blue eyes. It wasn’t as if Brian was the most observant person. In high school, Jill was forever getting annoyed with him for not noticing a new hairstyle or a brand-new outfit.

Okay, this argument was actually backing up his far-fetched theory. If Brian noticed, then the guy
must
have the same unusually pale eyes.

Jensen hesitated a moment longer, then breathed a deep sigh. What could it hurt just to walk in and see if the bartender reminded him of Elizabeth? And even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt to ask the guy if he knew her. Maybe Elizabeth was a regular here.

A wave of anticipation curled up his spine at the idea. Even if no one knew her, he could just hang out for a while and see if she showed.

Okay, he was apparently an official stalker. His determined march paused for just a second, then he continued on through the parking lot. He wasn’t stalking her, he was just looking for her. Because he wanted an explanation of her behavior. That was it.

He pushed open the bar door. Well, that and he did want to see her again.

The bar was relatively empty. A group of young men—obviously construction workers or laborers just off from work, given their rumpled t-shirts and dirt-layered jeans—played pool. Three other guys, clad in leather and jeans, sat at one of the round tables, not speaking, just sullenly drinking and watching the room as if they were waiting for something to happen. And at the bar was an old man, a cigarette dangling from his beard-surrounded lips.

A redhead puttered around behind the bar, wiping down glasses and occasionally saying something to the old man.

Jensen didn’t see this bartender with the pale eyes. Maybe it was the guy’s night off. Jensen considered just turning around, when a figure came out of the back room. The man was wearing an expensive gray shirt, obviously tailored to fit him, with an equally expensive pair of black pants. He didn’t look like he belonged here. Jensen could see that much, but from his angle by the door, he couldn’t see what his eyes looked like.

Slowly, as if he was casing the joint, Jensen walked around a few of the tables littering the floor, trying to get a look at the man’s eyes.

Okay, I’m now officially stalking a guy, too
.
This was pathetic.

But Jensen’s thoughts of pitiful behavior disappeared as the man turned to face the old man, also facing Jensen directly.

Jensen stopped. There was no doubt about it. This guy had to be related to Elizabeth. Same eyes. Their coloring, aside from that, wasn’t the same. Elizabeth had dark hair, while this guy was lighter. But there was still no denying they did look alike.

And it was his best shot at finding her. His only shot.

He started toward the bar, only to pause again. But how did he ask about Elizabeth without sounding like... well, a stalker?

He always came back to that, didn’t he?

Screw it. He had to find her. He was desperate. He still couldn’t say why she’d had this effect on him, except for maybe the fact that Elizabeth had made him think about something other than Katie. Even for a little while.

“Hi,” he said, taking a seat beside the old man.

The old man glanced at him and grunted a greeting around his nearly burnt-out cigarette.

“Hey,” the man with Elizabeth’s eyes said, placing a drink napkin in front of him. “What can I get you?”

“A club soda,” Jensen said, even though he realized that if he wanted information, he should probably buy an actual alcoholic beverage. Wasn’t that how these exchanges went down?

But the bartender didn’t seem fazed by his drink request.

The old man to his left, however, did seem to take exception.

“Who comes to a place like this to have a club soda?”

The redhead, who seemed to be taking inventory of the beer coolers, shot the old man a disapproving look.

“Ignore Jed,” she said, offering Jensen a wide, warm smile.

Jensen couldn’t help but smile back. “Well, I guess it is a little strange to come to a bar on a Monday night to drink club soda alone.”

The pale-eyed man returned, and Jensen noticed he stood close to the redhead. Very close. And there was a possessive glint in his unusual eyes.

“That is an interesting question,” he agreed. “What does bring you here tonight?”

Well, that was an open segue, if he’d ever heard one.

He reached for the drink, taking a sip, and trying to think of how to ask his question—in the least stalker-ish way possible.

“I’m actually looking for someone,” he finally said. “A woman I met here over the weekend.”

The pale-eyed guy studied Jensen for a moment, then his gaze seemed to flick past him, over his shoulder. Jensen realized he’d glanced to the men seated at the round table.

Jensen wondered if they were about to cause trouble—they seemed to be the type. But before he could look, the pale-eyed man looked back to him. His eyes held the same unnerving intensity as Elizabeth’s. Although it was definitely more pleasant to be studied by Elizabeth.

“Do you have a name?” the redhead asked, and Jensen noticed that the man at her side didn’t seem pleased that she was willing to help. Definitely the possessive type.

But then, his woman did work in a bar. He probably had to be pretty careful of the men. The redhead was a knockout. Not as striking to Jensen as Elizabeth, but then, no one ever had been.

He paused at that idea. No. Katie had been. She’d been perfect. She’d been his soul mate, and all he’d ever wanted. While Elizabeth was... an enigma. A strange obsession.

“I’m actually looking for a woman named Elizabeth.”

The pale-eyed man’s gaze sharpened. “Elizabeth?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

He tilted his head, and for the first time, Jensen noticed something odd about his appearance. It was almost as if his face was too symmetrical, too perfect. His features didn’t look fake, but they were almost distractingly flawless.

Jensen blinked. He’d never really taken into account a guy’s looks before, but this guy was oddly disconcerting. He glanced at the redhead and realized she had the same look about her. Absolute perfection.

He blinked again, wondering why he was considering their appearance when he just wanted information about Elizabeth.

“Yeah. I do know Elizabeth. She’s my sister. I can tell her you stopped by.”

Jensen wasn’t surprised by the admission that he was her sibling, or by the fact that he wasn’t willing to give some random guy her address.

Jensen probably wasn’t the first guy to come in here looking for her. That idea really, really bothered him.

Jensen nodded. “I’d appreciate that.” It wasn’t as if he was going to get this guy to say anything that he didn’t want to. Coming here had been a long shot, anyway.

He took another swallow of his club soda, trying to act like he wasn’t dying to grill her brother for more information.

Elizabeth’s brother seemed satisfied that his few questions would be the end of it. The redhead gave Jensen a small, regretful smile, as if she’d like to help him more, but then she left to go tend the music.

Jensen sat there for a few moments, halfheartedly sipping his soda, and also half hoping Elizabeth would show up.

Pathetic.

He downed the remainder of his drink and rummaged in his jeans pocket for some cash.

“You know,” the old man next to him leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, “I heard there was a place for rent out on the Boyd Road.”

Jensen frowned at the man. “Is that so?”

The old man gave him a significant look, raising his bushy eyebrows until they nearly met his hairline.

“Oh,” Jensen said, understanding dawning on him. “Is that right?”

The old man nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Only house out on that road.”

Jensen paused at that. Was it really wise for this old guy to be cluing him in to where Elizabeth lived? After all, he could be a psycho-killer. At the very least, he could be the guy who had random booty calls with her. Of course, she had been the one to initiate those. But still.

Jensen eyed the old man. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I saw her watching you the other night.” He nodded his head like that was enough to clarify all, but then he added, “She likes you.”

Jensen mulled that over. He wasn’t sure Elizabeth liked him for more than an easy lay. But somehow the old man’s observation made him feel better, maybe a little less pathetic. Still, like and lust were often hard to tell apart.

Jensen’s doubt must have showed on his face, because the old man leaned a little closer, nudging him with his bony elbow.

“Trust me. I’m good with these types,” he said, his eyes twinkling wickedly. “They are actually easier to read than our kind.”

Jensen frowned at the old man.
These types? Our kind?
What the hell was he talking about? Okay, maybe the old man was just a crazy old drunk.

“They’d still be edging around their feelings if it weren’t for me.” The old man jerked his head in the direction of Elizabeth’s brother and the redhead.

The couple was locked in a brief embrace, but Jensen could easily see the adoration in their expressions.

Jensen took a deep sigh. Crazy old man seemed his only option here. Jensen tossed a few bills on the bar, and nodded to the old man, who nodded back in a way that said,
Go get her.

Jensen left the bar, just hoping she wanted to be gotten. No, he just wanted her to answer a few questions. A relationship still seemed way too out of his reach.

Chapter 9

W
ell, for whatever other craziness, the old man had been right about the Boyd Road. It did lead right to an old farmhouse. The only house on the road.

He felt like an intruder, pulling into the drive, but the temptation to see Elizabeth was too much.

Lights glowed in several of the windows, but otherwise the place appeared quiet. He stepped up the stairs onto a large wraparound porch much like his granddad’s and knocked on the front door.

Waiting, he peeked in the windows into a kitchen, which was very tidy. He knocked again, and he listened.

Maybe she could see him out there and she was avoiding him. He raised his hand to knock again, but stopped himself. He could hardly force himself on her. If she didn’t want to see him, she didn’t want to see him.

From behind him, a noise sounded, like something being knocked over. Something hard and heavy. He spun, peering into the darkness, not seeing where the noise could have come from. He stood stock-still, listening.

He heard another sound, not the same as the first. This time a low growl rumbled from across the yard. The sound of an animal rather than a human.

“Hello?” he called anyway, stepping down off the porch. Silence greeted him. He walked slowly across the lawn, trying to peer into the dark.

As he approached the barn he noticed light seeping around the hinges of the old double doors. Another sound like something falling over echoed out of the large structure.

He picked up his speed.

He hurried over to the barn and tugged the large door open. The old hinges squeaked, and he heard a scurrying sound that he wrote off to mice running for cover.

The interior of the barn was relatively empty. Remnants of hay, cobwebs, and other signs of lack of use, all exactly what he would picture in an old, unused building like this. Except, on the far end, heavy plastic sectioned a makeshift room away from the rest of the barn. It glowed like a cocoon lit from within.

He frowned, taking a cautious step forward. Which was a good thing, because as he stepped down, he nearly trod on a small, bleary-eyed skunk. The animal peered up at him with unconcerned black eyes. Jensen fought the urge to recoil. A sudden movement could startle the creature and lead to a bad and very smelly outcome.

The skunk disregarded him and trundled off to disappear into one of the old horse stalls.

Jensen let out a pent-up breath. That had been close, in fact, he couldn’t believe that the little animal hadn’t sprayed. Definitely not the usual behavior of a surprised skunk, but he was t
hank
ful he’d been spared.

He cast another quick look around, looking for more wandering animals—and for what could be making all the noise. When he saw nothing, he took another step into the shadowy barn, illuminated only by the strange plastic room. The floorboards creaked, and he heard a responding shuffle that seemed to emanate from within the plastic room. For the first time, Jensen noticed a shadow in the plastic cocoon—what appeared to be the silhouette of a figure.

Or at least he thought it was a figure, even though the object didn’t move. It gave the impression of large shoulders and a head, almost like a figure of something crouched, poised to attack.

“Elizabeth?” he called, keeping his voice low, his eyes trained on that shadow. Something wasn’t right here. The air actually felt thick, and his skin prickled like he was in the presence of something far more dangerous than a skunk. Although wandering skunks, strange noises, and an eerie glowing plastic room all seemed like valid reasons to be a little cautious.

“Elizabeth,” he said again, a little louder. He had the feeling she was here, and she was in danger.

He took another step, when a strange noise overhead caused him to freeze. What the hell was that?

He glanced up and saw several owls lined up on one of the exposed beams. They blinked down at him, then one spread its wings—the whispery whoosh of the long appendages was the sound he had heard.

Jensen frowned again. A skunk undisturbed by a human. Several barn owls. That was all a little strange, not to mention that thing in the plastic. He looked back to the makeshift room, only to see that the dark shape was now gone. The plastic glowed, pale and oddly alienlike in the dim barn.

No, something was really wrong here.

“Elizabeth?” he called again, this time louder, more concerned. He didn’t understand why, but he knew she was in trouble.

He strode toward the makeshift room and peeled back the heavy plastic. Before his eyes could adjust to the change in light, something lunged at him, barreling into him so hard that his feet left the ground. He and his attacker flew through the air and landed in a heap against one of the wooden stalls.

Jensen remained sprawled there, half-lying/half-upright, struggling to pull air into his stunned lungs. The thing scrambled off him and backed away, crouching in the dark corner, regarding him with pale eyes. Jensen tried to make out what the thing was, but between the shifts of light, the speed of its movement and his own winded state, all he could make out was a dark, curled ball. What the hell?

He carefully struggled into a sitting position, his eyes locked on the thing, trying to keep his movements slow and nonthreatening. If this was a wild animal, his best strategy was to remain as still as possible.

The shadow in the corner remained just as still. Then, as Jensen watched, the form changed, shifting like a darkness disappearing with the movement of the sun. Stretching and shrinking, until he realized he was staring at a human. Not an animal at all.

He blinked, certain he couldn’t possibly be seeing what he thought he was. The form went from appearing large and black and threatening to a slight, curled body.

“Elizabeth?”

The form lifted its head, and for the first time, he could make out actual features. Long, dark hair, a pointed chin, and wide, frightened pale eyes.

“J—Jensen?” Elizabeth’s voice sounded dazed. As dazed as he felt.

Jensen immediately overcame his own confusion, scrambling over to her, touching her. Brushing her tangled hair away from her face to reassure himself she was real. That he’d imagined the hulking shadow. That he’d imagined her brutal strength.

That strength... His hand paused on her cheek. Good God, her skin was on fire.

“Elizabeth, you’re burning up.” He brushed back her bangs, testing the temperature of her forehead. Her cheeks. She had a raging fever. Sweat dampened her hair.

“Jensen, you—you should go.” She tried to push up to her feet, but she lost her balance, falling onto her bottom, her legs curled awkwardly under her. For the first time, Jensen realized she was naked.

He reached for her, trying to help, but she jerked away.

“
Don
’t touch me,” she said, the words more a plea than an order.

“Elizabeth, you’re sick.” God, he hoped she was just sick, but again that feeling that something was terribly wrong assaulted him. Had she been attacked? And what had he just seen?

Elizabeth’s hoarse, humorless laugh drew his attention back to her. “You have no idea.”

Jensen frowned, not understanding her words. But then, her fever had to be high enough that she was likely delusional. That could explain why she was here, undressed. But that didn’t explain what he saw.

She made a small, whimpering sound, and again his thoughts were back to her. He needed to get her fever down. Even though she attempted to push him away again, he managed to lift her, holding her tight against his chest. She still strained against him, her slight frame surprisingly strong. But he held her, hushing her with soothing noises and words. Eventually she calmed against him, her body burning hot and her limbs becoming boneless.

For a brief moment, Jensen worried that she’d fallen unconscious.

“How did you find me?” she murmured.

He didn’t want to get that old man—what was his name? Jed. He didn’t want to get Jed into trouble, so he opted for her answering strategy.

“I just sniffed you out.”

Elizabeth cracked one eye. “But you can’t do that. You’re only human.”

Jensen stared down at her for a moment, remembering Jed’s odd words and how hers somehow seemed to tie in with them. But then she let out a reedy breath, and he realized she probably had no idea what she was saying. From the feel of her skin, he’d guess her temperature was close to 104, if not higher. She needed a doctor.

He strode toward his truck, trying to recall the fastest route to a hospital from this location. Probably east on 219.

He held her more securely as he reached for the door handle of his truck.

“What are we doing?” Elizabeth asked, the words a little slurred.

“We have to get you to a hospital. I’m really worried about this fever.”

Elizabeth actually managed to stiffen in his grasp. He would have thought it impossible, given how weak she had seemed just moments before. She wriggled in his arms, determined to break free. He nearly dropped her, before hooking her tightly around the waist.

“Stop, Elizabeth,” he ordered, hoping his sharp words would pierce her fever-hazed mind. “Stop it.”

She didn’t immediately, although eventually she stopped squirming. Still, her body remained coiled, as if she planned to struggle again at any moment.

“I don’t need to go to the doctor,” she told him, her voice low and reedy, her pale eyes determined.

Jensen attempted to open the truck door, but he shook his head. “Elizabeth, you are very sick.”

She shook her head, her eyes still holding his. “No. It will pass. Plus, you’re here.”

Jensen laughed. “Elizabeth, I’m a vet.”

She smiled, just the briefest quirk of her lips. “I know. It’s so appropriate, isn’t it?”

He had no idea what she meant, and he knew he shouldn’t be looking for logic in her words—she was sick. Yet, he couldn’t quite disregard them. They meant something.

Even though he still believed the decision was wrong, he felt himself moving around the truck toward her house.

As soon as she realized where they were going, Elizabeth relaxed against him. Her eyes drifted shut, and her fingers curled into his shirt front as if she wanted to hold him close. Much better than fighting to be freed, but Jensen still wasn’t sure he was making the right choice.

He managed to turn the knob to the front door without jarring her too much. Then he kicked it shut behind him. He scanned the rooms, considered laying her down on the sofa in her living room, but then he decided against it. The first thing he had to do was get her fever down.

“Elizabeth, is the bathroom upstairs?” he asked, in part to rouse her—her stillness concerned him. She didn’t reply. Not good.

He headed toward the stairs, assuming that was where he would find the bathroom with a shower or a bathtub. Elizabeth’s head lolled against his shoulder. He doubled his steps, taking the remainder two at a time.

Sure enough, he spotted the bathroom at the end of the hallway. He carried her straight to the small, tidy room.

He looked around, debating where he should set her. She couldn’t sit by herself, so he gently placed her on the floor, trying to get as much of her body as possible on the blue-and-green bath mat. He searched for a towel to cover her. Despite their past interactions, it somehow felt wrong for her to be naked now.

Hell, he hadn’t even had the opportunity to see her fully nude, and seeing her that way now just felt wrong. As he draped a large sea-green towel over her, he did assess her systematically for injuries. He didn’t think she’d been attacked, but he wanted to be sure. Her creamy skin was flawless—no signs of struggle.

He tucked the towel around her, feeling slightly better. Slightly.

Then he turned to assess the bathing situation. A shower/ tub combo. That was good. He turned the knobs, testing the water until it was tepid—not so cold that it would shock her system, but cool enough, he hoped, to bring her fever down.

While the tub filled, he turned to the medicine cabinet. She needed to get some ibuprofen or aspirin or something into her to help lower her temperature.

He opened the mirrored door to discover the shelves neatly lined with toiletries. He shifted a few around, searching for any type of fever reducer. There were none—the only thing she seemed to have in abundance were hair-removal products. Waxes, depilatories, tweezers, razors. He stared at them for a moment, then heard Elizabeth moan.

He turned back to her to see she was struggling to sit up.

“Shh, darling,” he said, kneeling down to catch her around the back, cradling her against him. “You’ve got to just rest.” He was glad to see she was conscious.

She frowned at him. “Why are you calling me
darling
? I’m not your darling. Am I?”

He smiled at that, realizing she never would have asked that question if she was fully lucid.

And he took advantage of the fact that she probably wouldn’t recall much in the morning. “I’d like you to be my darling.”

He smoothed back her hair, noticing again how soft and thick it was against his fingers. Her eyes drifted shut and she sighed, seeming to like the touch.