The Shadows of Christmas Past

  In the dream, the wolf had blue eyes. Which proved that it was a dream, because wolves didn't have blue eyes. Maybe some Arctic wolves did, but she didn't think so.

  Well, she couldn't lie abed much longer. A shower would help the aches, and she had chores to do. Besides, Taffy was scratching on the door to get in, so--

  So, if Taffy wasn't in her bed... who--or what--was?

  Marj cautiously patted the body lying next to her again.

  "That feels good," Harry Blethyin said, his lips close to her ear.

  Marj would have shot up off the bed if his hand hadn't held her down.

  "Careful, you might have a concussion. I'm here to make sure you're okay," he added. "Don't worry; Alice knows I'm here to look after you and that my intentions are mostly honorable."

  If Alice knew it, everybody knew it. She glared at him. "Mostly?"

  Even as she spoke, she noticed that he was lying on top of the covers, fully dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans. Only his shoes were off. She was wearing plaid pajamas, and remembered Alice helping her into them the night before. It was all very--chaste. She slapped away a feeling of disappointment. A smug glint in his blue eyes told her he was aware of it, anyway. He kissed her on the cheek, then his lips brushed very gently across hers.

  She almost groaned in frustration when the brief contact ended.

  Out in the hallway, Taffy whined loudly. Harry got up and let the dog in, then leaned against the door frame.

  She remembered that he had told her about Taffy's saving her last night. Funny thing was, she had no memory of taking Taffy to the kennel with her. Still, she hugged the dog when he jumped up on the bed and let him lick her face a few times. Before she could push the Lab away, Noel came in and jumped on the end of the bed. Taffy immediately stretched out beside the languid and imperious greyhound, his big pink tongue lolling foolishly.

  "He is so in love," Harry said.

  "I know--and he looks so stupid."

  "Yep. Love'll do that to a man."

  "To anyone."

  She and Harry shared a quick glance, then looked away even as sparks flew between them.

  Marj sat on the edge of the bed, while Harry crossed his arms, looking composed but for his tousled black hair. "I suppose I should thank you for last night...but what were you doing here?" she asked.

  "I came to talk to you about my case," he answered.

  "And finding the wolf?"

  He nodded. "How's your head? Alice wants you to go to a clinic."

  "I have chores."

  He smiled. "Already done. All creatures great and small have been fed, watered, and petted. You'll find I'm useful to have around."

  She eyed him critically, from his smiling, handsome face to his broad shoulders, lean hips, and farther down. She liked the scenery. "Coffee made?" she asked.

  "Not yet."

  "Well, then--"

  He turned toward the hall. "Take a shower. It'll be done by the time you're dressed."

  "What about that clinic visit?" Harry asked, when Marj joined him in the kitchen.

  She had one bruise in the middle of her forehead and another on her left temple. It infuriated him all over again to see her injuries; made him wish he'd bitten and clawed up her assailants. Sometimes he regretted that his kind imposed such restraints on their animal natures these days. Sometimes it was just no fun being a werewolf.

  Marj thanked him for the mug of coffee he offered and the plate of buttered toast. She looked good despite the bruises. Her auburn hair was still damp from the shower, and slicked back it revealed the angles of her heart-shaped face. He caught the warm, female scent of her, along with almonds and cinnamon from her soap and shampoo, and he thought he could spend the whole day breathing her in. Desire for her curled inside him.

  "I'm fine," she asserted, after taking a gulp of coffee.

  You sure are.

  "Are you sure?" he asked quickly.

  It was really odd, how their thoughts connected so easily. He wasn't used to this kind of connection with a human. Marj wasn't like anyone he'd ever met, shapeshifter or not. She did things to his emotions, made him want to protect her, almost as much as he wanted to make love to her.

  Have sex, he corrected. Lots of sex. The word love implied an emotional commitment he couldn't afford.

  Harry poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and sat down opposite her. He noticed that she was looking past him, and turned his head to see that she was looking at the battered and scratched-up back door.

  "Thinking of leaving?" he asked.

  Marj brought her gaze quickly back to his, and he caught a flicker of suspicion before she managed to mask it. "I have to get to my office soon." She ate a piece of toast.

  "You need a lot of help around here."

  "I have a part-time hand who comes in once a week. Except he took December off. And my vet tech quit. The local teenagers know I'll pay them for help."

  "Phil's mom told me that he used to do chores for you sometimes. He'd already left home when he was here in October with his friend."

  She absorbed this for a moment. "His friend's a runaway, too."

  He nodded. "I've traced a connection with Clark and four other missing teenagers to Phil Fennick. It looks like they hooked up in an Internet chat room and decided to run off and start a commune in the mountains around here."

  This was essentially the truth, leaving out the part about five of the kids being shapeshifters of one kind or another.

  She looked worried. "They're living up in the San Jagos in December?"

  He nodded. "From everything I've found out, that little mountain range is rugged, inaccessible, and exactly what this little back-to-nature group is looking for. They want an isolated, peaceful place to live together in harmony."

  "Do the authorities know about this?"

  "Of course," he lied, then added truthfully, "but the authorities' missing persons resources are always spread thin, and at least two of these kids are legally adults. I'm the best there is at finding people, and I've got a personal stake in this hunt. These kids' families want them home for Christmas. I plan to see they get their wish."

  She glanced at a wall calendar that featured a photo of kittens. "Then you've got fourteen days."

  "It'll be sooner than that. In fact, I figure Christmas is what's going to bring the kids down out of the mountains. And it's going to be easier for me to find them outside the wilderness than in."

  Normally, that wouldn't be true--at least with tracking humans. But shapeshifters knew lots of tricks to mask their presence. These kids were deliberately hiding from their own kind, and at least one of them was a genius at disguise. Harry was actually thinking of hiring the kid once he got past the rebel-without-a-clue stage and made it to reasonable adulthood. The fact that Harry had picked up a faint scent of the werefox and werecougar at Marj's had been his only lucky break recently.

  "Christmas?" Marj asked.

  "Christmas presents," he clarified. "Christmas food. Christmas parties. These kids are going to want to celebrate the holiday. I figure Phil and some of his friends will show up here, to earn money for presents for their girlfriends."

  "So, you're going to hang around here waiting for them to show up?"

  He nodded. "That's a big part of the plan."

  "What if they don't have any Christmas spirit?"

  He shook his head. "Who can resist Christmas?"

  "Me " she answered.

  He didn't believe that for a minute, but her expression told him that she didn't want to talk about it. She also seemed skeptical of his plan.

  "And while I'm waiting for the kids to show up at your door, I'll also find your wolf."

  This drew a smile from her. He liked making her smile.

  "More toast?" he asked.

  She shook her head, and winced when she did. "I need to get to the office." She stood. "You go wolf searching."

  Three hours later, Marj's headache was finally gone. She had two e-mail responses
the to the ad she'd placed for a vet tech three weeks ago, one response the first week, and one just yesterday, and she'd sent off e-mails setting up appointments. She'd also answered several phone messages, and was catching up on a recent professional journal.

  The whole time she'd been doing these tasks, her thoughts had been on Harry and the wolf.

  Sometimes when she looked into Harry's eyes, she thought she saw the wolf looking back at her from them. An odd thought, but then, she could communicate with animals. Certainly there were things in the world odder than that, weren't there?

  And she just couldn't get the dream about the black wolf rescuing her off her mind. She knew that the dream was somehow about Harry. When she tried to remember exactly what had happened when she was attacked, she got a confusing double image of Taffy superimposed over the black wolf. When she thought about it too hard, the headache began to throb in her temples again. So she put it out of her mind for now and went back to wondering how her kitchen door had gotten so badly scratched up if Taffy was outside with her, rather than trying to get out to help her.

  Taffy couldn't have opened the door on his own.

  Before she could pursue this thought further, the phone rang and the outside office door opened. Harry came in as Marj picked up the phone.

  The call was from the sheriff.

  Harry perched on the edge of the desk during the short conversation, and asked, "What was that about?" as soon as Marj was off the phone. "Yes, I'm nosy," he added. "It's one of the reasons I'm a detective. That call was about Noel, right?"

  She nodded.

  "Her owner's been found? Does she have to go back to the dog-racing track? Are you going to break Taffy's heart like that?"

  "Will you let me get in a few words?" she countered. "Yes, her owner's been found," she said, after Harry grinned and mimed zipping his lips closed. "Sort of."

  He tilted up an eyebrow in question.

  The gesture made Marj laugh as she tilted back in her chair. It gave her more distance from Harry, but also a better angle to look up at the big man who towered over her, even while sitting down. The look of eager curiosity made his features even more handsome.

  "The thieves told the sheriff what track they stole Noel from. They wanted to use her as breeding stock with another racer they just happened to acquire. I get the impression they're involved in some sort of illegal racing circuit. When Sheriff Murchison contacted the track the greyhound was stolen from, she found out that Noel's owner died of a heart attack a week ago. So, then she hunted down the guy's heirs."

  "Who are coming to pick up Noel any minute now?" he asked anxiously. "You aren't going to let her go are you? She deserves a better life than living in a cage."

  His passion on the subject was touching. For all that she agreed with him, Marj had to be practical. "I wouldn't have a choice." His look of disappointment pained her. "Fortunately--well, unfortunately, considering that the man who owned her is dead--we don't have to worry about turning her over to his heirs. They have no interest in racing greyhounds and have already turned his other dogs over to a greyhound rescue group. The sheriff was told that they don't care what we do with Noel."

  Harry bounced up off the desk, looking as happy as if he'd just been given a marvelous Christmas present. "You're going to keep her!"

  Marj rose from her chair. "I didn't say--"

  Just then, a car pulled up outside, and Marj had to go to the door. Karen Montgomery and her two kids got out of the car as Marj came out of her office. Harry followed her out and walked across the yard toward the house.

  Karen Montgomery's gaze followed him for a moment, and she grinned and briefly fanned herself when she turned back to Marj. "Hi," she said. "The kids have decided they want a pet for Christmas. Is that greyhound you had at the Fete available?"

  A proprietary shriek silently went through Marj--both at the question and at the way the woman had looked at Harry. She put a professional smile on her face and briskly stepped forward. "She's not housebroken yet," she said, guiding the family toward the kennel. "Why don't I show you all the well-behaved, adoptable dogs that are available?"

  An hour or so later, the Montgomerys drove away with a happy German shepherd in the back of their SUV, and Marj headed for the house.

  Harry put his arm around her waist when she reached the porch. "I see you didn't give Noel away. You're going to keep her. Taffy will be pleased."

  She relaxed against him. Despite the difference in their sizes, they fit together very well. "I didn't do it just for Taffy." She gave a resigned sigh. "Once I let something into my house, I have trouble letting it go."

  "I'll keep that in mind," he said, then turned her toward the door. "Come on, I have something to show you."

  * * *

  chapter 8

  "Have you been wolf hunting today?" she asked, as he closed the door behind them.

  "I'm saving that for tonight," Harry answered. "Today I worked on my case. Come on, I'll show you." Keeping his arm around her, he led her down the hall to the living room. Taffy and Noel tagged along behind them.

  When he'd explored the house that morning, he'd found that the living room had a very unlived-in feel to it. In fact, but for the kitchen and Marj's bedroom, the whole place felt abandoned. Everything was clean and neatly in place, but there wasn't any life to this house. Maybe it was just too big for one person. Maybe Marj's office and the animal shelter were the places her heart called home.

  "Now, you're going to wonder what relevance what you're about to see has to luring the kids out of the mountains. I'll explain, but first close your eyes."

  He watched to see that she obeyed, then put his hands on her shoulders and guided her to the center of the living room. He positioned her so that she'd see the corner between the living room window and the fireplace.

  "Okay. You can look now."

  Her body stiffened beneath his touch when she opened her eyes. He'd suspected that she be briefly annoyed at his presumption, but he hadn't expected such deep anger. Or the almost physical wave of pain and grief that washed over her and into him.

  "Marj?" He pulled her back against him to wrap his arms protectively around her.

  "What have you done?" she demanded. "What right did you have--?"

  "It's Christmas," he pointed out. "A house needs a Christmas tree."

  He'd found the boxes in a closet. One contained the pieces of an eight-foot artificial pine tree. Other boxes had held Christmas ornaments, candles, lights, and decorations. He'd spent an hour moving some furniture and assembling the tree in the best place to be seen through the window. He'd placed gold and red candles on the coffee table and mantel, then lit them and a fire in the fireplace.

  "I put a few of the ornaments on the tree," he told her, "so it would be pretty when you first saw it." She continued to stay stiff and very still in his arms. "You don't like it, do you?"

  "You had no right." She choked on a sob. "No right."

  "I didn't think you'd mind."

  "I hate Christmas!"

  "That's not true. You wouldn't have been at the Holiday Fete if you did."

  "Alice made me."

  "Nobody makes you do anything," he scoffed. "You're too alpha to do as you're told."

  "Christmas is okay for other people," she conceded. "I wish them well."

  "You give your Taffy eggnog. You named the greyhound Noel."

  "That was luck of the draw. I'm indifferent to the holiday for myself. Please take down the tree."

  "I want to use it to lure the kids out of hiding."

  That stopped her. "How?"

  "They'll see it through the window when they come looking for work, and it'll be a reminder of what they're missing."

  "That's cynical."

  "No. It is a reminder of what they're missing. And it's a reminder for you, too. You need to come back from being so alone and aloof--or you wouldn't be reacting so strongly."

  "Let me go."

  He cradled her gently instead. Some
times people needed contact, whether they thought they did or not, whether they were psychic or not.

  The connection between him and Marj was stronger than he'd thought. Her grief, and her effort to bury it, rocked him. He turned her, so that they were facing each other, he cradled her head, and guided it to rest on his chest. "Cry if you need to."

  "I don't want to." Her words were muffled in his shirt.

  "Then tell me all about it. Do whatever helps."

  "I hate Christmas." She lifted her head to look up at him, tears bright in he eyes. "I just do."

  "Because your father died this time last year."

  "He died at the end of November," she answered, a catch in her voice. "How do you know about it?"

  "Research. I've read over a year's worth of the town's newspapers since I started on this case, including obituaries."

  She accepted the explanation with a grudging nod, and a tear spilled down her cheek. "I don't want to go through--the memories. Christmas--it just reminds me--last year was--Christmas sucks."

  "Christmas sucked last year," he said. "This year it's time to start over. Christmas is about birth, beginnings, hope, light in the darkness--all that good stuff. And presents. Don't you want presents? And parties? And lights and music, and trees and all the good stuff."

  "You sound like Alice."

  "She's a soprano, I'm a baritone. But if she's trying to get you back into the world, she's right." Harry loved life, he loved the world. He ached to show Marj that the world was beautiful again. "Hiding is only a temporary refuge."

  "Who says?"

  "Me. You need to remember you're alive."

  Then he kissed her. There was simply nothing else he could do. What surprised him was the passionate hunger of her response and the way her mouth opened eagerly beneath his. The salt taste of her tears was on his tongue, her lips soft. The heat of her body and the scent of her skin went to his head.

  His hands moved down her back, caressing and drawing her nearer. He sensed her surprise at her own reactions, that a part of her was fighting to gain control.

  Oh, no, what this woman needed was a good loss of control.

  What he needed was her.