Second Nature Page 9

  "Let me see," Griffin said using the tone of voice she had heard from her fathers, the Kasari lords. Gently, she peeled back the torn sleeve.

  The heady scent of blood made her hunting instincts rattle against their cage. Griffin kept a tight grip on them as she looked at Jorie's forearm. Blood was dripping down, but Griffin had seen enough wounds to know it wasn't that bad. Oh, thank the Great Hunter! "Come on," she said. "We have to get the bleeding stopped."

  Human wounds didn't heal as quickly as Wrasa injuries did. Griffin reached into the still open trunk of her rental car and took out the first-aid kit that she kept in her gear under the pretense of being prepared for backpacking. "This might hurt," she said.

  Dark eyes that were now inky black looked back at her from a pale face. Jorie gave her a short nod.

  Griffin unwrapped a gauze pad and pressed it down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

  Jorie's teeth crunched against each other. A cloud of pain stung Griffin's nose.

  "Hold that for a moment," Griffin instructed, trying to ignore Jorie's emotions — and her own. She put a temporary bandage on Jorie's arm. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" Her gaze roved over Jorie's body. The knife had cut through the shoulder of Jorie's jacket, and the torn fabric of her sweatshirt peeked out. "Is your shoulder bleeding?"

  "No, I don't think so." Trembling fingers flitted over her shoulder, pulling the fabric aside to reveal unharmed skin. "Just got the wind knocked out of me," Jorie said. Still looking dazed, she glanced in the direction where the Maki had vanished. "What the hell was that?"

  "A mugger," Griffin said.

  "Here?" Jorie shook her head. "This is Osgrove, not Minneapolis."

  Guilt singed through Griffin again. She had brought violence to Jorie's doorstep. She had gotten her hurt. "Crime is everywhere." It sounded lame to her own ears.

  "Hey, Ms. Price," one of the patrons who had left the diner after them called over to them. "Everything okay over there? Do you need any help?"

  Human, Griffin's nose told her. "Thanks," she answered. "Ms. Price is handling things just fine. We'll call the police in a second." She didn't want another human involved.

  The human glared at her. "I wasn't asking you. I was talking to Ms. Price, so why don't you let her answer?" He strode down the side street toward them.

  Oh, fantastic. If she were human, Griffin would have rolled her eyes. Small-town locals are like members of a Kasari pride. They insult, squabble, and ignore each other, but if a stranger shows up, they're suddenly one big, happy, protective family. She knew she had to act before other locals joined them.

  "It's all right, Mr. Savin," Jorie called before Griffin could think of something to defuse the situation. "I really am fine."

  The man stayed where he was but continued to watch them.

  Great. Griffin grumbled. Now I'm afternoon entertainment for the locals.

  "What about you? Did you get hurt?" Jorie asked. Her gaze, now already much calmer than seconds before, slid up and down Griffin's body.

  Griffin rubbed the side of her head. "I think he hit me, but don't worry, I have a pretty thick head." With the density of her bones, she hardly felt any pain.

  "Let me see," Jorie said. With her uninjured hand, she tugged Griffin down and parted her hair, gently searching for any signs of injury. Her fingers froze. "Wow. What happened to your ear?" One of Jorie's fingers traced the rim of Griffin's ear, where a part of it was missing.

  It took all of Griffin's self-control to hold still even though her instincts told her to draw back from Jorie's touch — or to lean into it. Her Puwar side hated having her personal space invaded while her Kasari half wanted to feel the gentle fingers run through her hair again and again. "One of our vets misjudged the dose it would take to sedate a bobcat," Griffin lied smoothly, "and when I bent down to put the radio collar around his neck, he gave me this little love bite."

  "Ouch," Jorie murmured. Her finger softly ran along Griffin's ear once more, then withdrew when she became aware of it. "You have a dangerous job."

  You have no idea, Griffin thought but said nothing. The piece of her ear had been bitten off by a cougar-shifter when she was on a mission a few years ago. Unlike other wounds she had suffered in the line of duty, it had never healed. Shifting stimulated wound healing, but it didn't enable them to grow back missing limbs or a halfway bitten-off ear.

  Jorie continued to run her fingers along Griffin's scalp. "You have a little bump right here," a soft touch to the side of Griffin's head, "but it doesn't appear to be too bad." Dark eyes drilled into Griffin's, and she saw her own reflection in the onyx surface. "Your pupils look normal. No blurry vision?"

  Griffin had trained herself not to react when humans stared into her eyes. She held Jorie's gaze. "No," she answered. At least not more than usual. Wrasa scientists had found out that, compared to human eyesight, a Wrasa's vision was always a little blurry. "You're good at this." She nodded down at Jorie's competent hand that was now withdrawing from her scalp.

  "I worked in an animal shelter for a while, and I often helped the vet when he came over to treat one of the animals," Jorie said.

  How fitting. She patched up animals, and now she's helping me. In some ways, Griffin felt she didn't deserve the help even though Jorie taking care of her had been part of her plan — the only part that had succeeded. Everything else had gone horribly wrong.

  "Why did you run after an armed mugger?" Griffin asked. She had been so sure that the reasonable Jorie wouldn't do something so stupid.

  "He stole the backpack with my notebook," Jorie said as if that explained everything.

  And maybe it did. Her writing was intensely personal for Jorie. She couldn't just give up part of it without a fight. Griffin had been so sure of how the human would react, but she had miscalculated — and now Jorie had gotten hurt. "Stupid," she mumbled.

  "Oh, but throwing yourself between me and the mugger was the clever thing to do?" Jorie shot back. She apparently thought Griffin's comment had been aimed at her.

  The grateful admiration that Griffin's plan had included was missing from her voice. It seemed Jorie wasn't good at being a damsel in distress.

  "I saw him attacking you and... I guess it was just instinct." This time, she was telling the truth. Jorie was part of her assignment, was her responsibility. No one else was allowed to harm even one hair on her head.

  From under shaggy bangs, Jorie ruefully grinned up at Griffin. "Then I guess we both didn't act very clever. It seems I completely misjudged the situation. I was pretty sure he only wanted my money and wasn't out to hurt anyone."

  Jorie was right, of course — or at least partially right. The Maki hadn't wanted her life. Not yet. But how could she be so sure of it? Griffin wondered. Even under the best circumstances, humans normally couldn't read Wrasa body language and facial expressions that easily, and with the knife at her throat, Jorie should have been unable to see anything but a threat to her life.

  She took her cell phone from her jacket pocket. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Jorie asked, indicating Griffin's head.

  No! Panic bubbled up and made her skin prickle. Hospitals were dangerous places for shape-shifters. They could allow themselves to be treated in a hospital only if they were sure that the physician was a fellow Wrasa. Even if she could find a Wrasa doctor, being left behind at the hospital would defeat the purpose of her clever plan — to make sure that Jorie wouldn't just dismiss her from her life. "No," she said with finality. "It's just a little bump. I'll be fine. No hospital necessary." She hesitated and gnawed on her lip as she stared down at Jorie's arm. "What about you? Is it deep enough to need stitches?"

  "No, I don't think so." Leaning against the side of Griffin's car, Jorie placed the call to the police and relayed what had happened. She gave an amazingly accurate description of the mugger. The scent of fear and shock still clung to her. Jorie's legs were shaking as the fact that she could have been killed or seriously hurt hit home. But when Jorie ended the
call, she straightened and visibly pulled herself together.

  Despite wanting to see Jorie as the enemy, the opponent in their deadly game of cat and mouse, Griffin couldn't help admiring her.

  Jorie slid the cell phone back into her jacket. A slight tremor vibrated through her fingers.

  "Hey," Griffin said, using her gentlest voice. "You all right?"

  "I'm fine." Jorie stuffed her trembling hands into the pockets of her jacket.

  Before long, a police cruiser pulled up in front of the diner. Two men, one of them in uniform, got out. They pushed through the gathering crowd of gawking locals and walked toward Jorie and Griffin.

  Wrasa, her eyes said as she watched the officer, and her nose added, Kasari. If she wasn't mistaken, he was one of her fathers' men. Cedric Jennings had contacted him and had briefed him on what to say to Jorie. The mugging had been timed so that the only Wrasa on Osgrove's three-man police force was on duty when the call came.

  The civilian who accompanied him was human, though, and not part of their plan. Griffin didn't like the pungent scent of disinfectant, talcum powder, and various ointments that clung to him. "Hello, Ms. Price," the human, a tall man in his late thirties, said. "What happened? I was paying Ted a visit at the station when you called, and I insisted on coming with him to make sure you're all right. Are you all right?" He clutched his black bag and anxiously studied Jorie from head to toe.

  Griffin watched them. It was obvious that the human knew Jorie.

  "I'm fine, Doctor," Jorie said again, starting to sound impatient with his rambling. "Just a scratch."

  "What happened?" the Wrasa officer asked.

  Jorie's teeth plucked at her lip. "A man stole Dr. Westmore's wallet and my backpack. When I tried to get it back, he attacked me with a knife."

  "Could you take a look at her arm?" Griffin asked the man who was obviously a physician. "I wrapped her arm, and I think it stopped the bleeding, but just to make sure..." Her experience with human injuries was very limited. It's limited to causing them, not healing them, she bitterly thought.

  The physician studied the provisional bandage. No blood was seeping through. "You did a very good job with the first aid," he said, giving Griffin a quick nod before his gaze was back on Jorie. "Come over to my practice, and let me take a look at the arm. You could probably use a tetanus shot too."

  Jorie hesitated. "I'll need to give a statement."

  "Why don't we all go to Dr. Saxton's office and you can give your statements there?" the officer suggested.

  Good. That way, she wouldn't get separated from Jorie now that she had one foot in the door.

  "Are you okay to walk across the street to the doc's office?" the police officer asked. "I need to secure the scene, see if there are possible witnesses, and search the streets for the mugger, in case he's still around. I'll meet you at the doc's office to take your statements."

  Griffin knew what he would really do: clean up every single drop of blood — just in case some of it was Griffin's or the Maki's — and make sure that the patrons of the diner hadn't seen anything and that the Maki could get away undetected.

  "I'm fine; of course I can walk," Jorie answered.

  Despite her protests, the doctor took hold of her uninjured arm and stroked his fingers over her elbow as he led her across the street.

  Griffin trailed after them. Oh, let me guess. He's completely infatuated with Jorie. Humans! Well, at least it might keep him from paying too close attention to her.

  Dr. Saxton didn't need to unlock the front door even though it was already getting dark. "My receptionist is staying late today. She's finishing up some paperwork for me," he said.

  Great. Griffin wasn't pleased to learn that somebody else was still around. The fewer people who learned what had happened, the better.

  When they entered, Dr. Saxton's receptionist looked up from the paperwork on her desk, her reading glasses balanced precariously on the tip of her nose. She shoved them back up as she rounded the desk and hustled toward them. "What happened?" she asked.

  She's one of us, Griffin knew before she looked into the amber eyes. Her nose could detect a fellow Wrasa without the help of her other senses. What do you know. The good doctor's receptionist is a Kasari. And a Kasari that looks oddly familiar. Do I know her? And does she know Jorie, or is she so concerned about the well-being of every human who comes in here?

  "Just a superficial little scratch," Jorie said.

  "Do you want me to help, Doctor?" the Kasari woman asked. "Christine is already gone, but I could lend you a hand," she said even though as a receptionist, she didn't have the training to assist the doctor.

  But Dr. Saxton shook his head. He apparently wanted to be alone with this particular patient. "No, thank you. It's just a simple cut. I don't need any assistance for that."

  "I'll need proof of insurance," the Kasari said.

  Jorie sighed. "Sorry, but that just got stolen."

  "It's okay," Dr. Saxton said to his receptionist. "We'll worry about it later." He gestured for Griffin to stay in the waiting room while he led Jorie to his treatment room.

  The chairs in the waiting room seemed reasonably comfortable, but Griffin was too agitated to sit. The smell of disinfectant drifted through the doctor's office and made Griffin's sensitive nose burn. Another reason why she hated doctor's offices. The scent of Jorie's blood was worse, though, because it had been spilled because of her. There was no way you could have known she would react like this. It was an accident, she told herself. But if she was honest with herself, something like this had been bound to happen. In the ten years that she had been a saru, her commanders and the council had ordered more and more daring missions and given less and less consideration to the safety of their human targets.

  Griffin had followed their lead. She had let herself be caught in the thrill of the hunt, the pleasure of coming up with a clever plan. How long before one of these accidents kills an innocent human? We're not even sure yet if Jorie is a threat to us, but we thought nothing of endangering her life. We can't go on like this.

  "Hey, are you all right?" Jorie's voice came from the doorway. "You look so... pained. Is your head hurting?"

  The concern in her voice made Griffin feel even worse. "No, I'm fine. What about you?"

  Jorie lifted her arm, presenting a new bandage. "Didn't need stitches. Dr. Saxton placed a few butterfly bandages over the cut."

  "Dr. Westmore?" the human's baritone called from the treatment room. "Ms. Price said you took a hit too. Let me take a look at your head."

  Great. She hoped he wouldn't get any crazy ideas about transferring her to a hospital and doing a CAT scan. At least she could use this to make Jorie volunteer to keep an eye on her.

  "Sit down." Dr. Saxton directed her to a padded chair and leaned close to examine her head. "So you are a friend of Ms. Price?"

  "Not really." If I say yes, the smitten fool will badger me for more information about Jorie. She had no tolerance for that right now.

  "Oh."

  Griffin didn't need her nose to detect his disappointment.

  "Ms. Price said you didn't pass out. Is that right?" he asked.

  "Not even for a second," Griffin said and silently added, Even though Jorie sprinting after the Maki made me feel pretty faint.

  "Any dizziness or nausea?" the doctor asked while he probed and prodded.

  For a moment, she did feel dizzy. It had nothing to do with the blow to the head, though. The scent of Jorie's pain still hung in the air, and the doctor was standing much too close, crowding her. She wanted to lash out, get him out of her personal space, but her training kept a tight leash on her instincts. "No," she ground out.

  "Feeling confused or disoriented?" he asked.

  A thousand things about this assignment were confusing her. "No."

  Finally, after more questions and more prodding, Dr. Saxton moved back and pulled out a small penlight to shine it into her eyes.

  Griffin jumped up from her seat. She
couldn't allow him to do that — her eyes would reflect the light, making them appear to glow. Human eyes didn't do that. "I think that's enough. I told you I'm fine." She growled at him and stormed out of the treatment room.

  The Kasari receptionist was already gone. Not that it would save her from having to answer a question or two from Griffin. No one escaped when she was hunting for information. She couldn't afford to exclude any Wrasa who knew Jorie from her investigation.

  Dr. Saxton caught up with her as she reached the waiting room. "Get plenty of rest. No strenuous physical activity and no driving for a while. You should have someone keep an eye on you for tonight," he said. "In fact..." He looked at Jorie, who was giving her statement to the police officer. "It might be a good idea for both of you not to stay alone tonight."

  Oh, yes, let me guess. You're offering to keep Jorie company.

  If Jorie recognized the implied offer, she ignored it. She was completely focused on giving her statement. "He was about..." Jorie's gaze swept over to Griffin as if she was using her as a measuring stick. "Six-four, very muscular. Not in a bodybuilder way, though. He looked more like a lumberjack, but he wasn't. A lumberjack couldn't afford the expensive shoes he wore. I think they were handmade. Very soft, well-worked leather. How odd." Jorie closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "He didn't wear a watch."

  It took some effort not to stare at her. Jorie was right, of course. Most Wrasa preferred comfortable, if expensive shoes that allowed them to connect with the earth beneath them. They also didn't wear wristwatches. Shifting while still wearing a watch would either damage the watch or lead to injury. She saw all that while the Maki held a knife to her throat?

  "I don't think he was from around here," Jorie said. "He had a Chicago accent."

  He did. The Maki had come from their Saru office in Chicago. Like most younger Wrasa, he had forgotten their old language and had picked up the accent of humans where he lived.

  Amazing. I doubt his own mother could describe the Maki that well. If Jorie's powers of observation are that good, is it possible that she knows so much about us just by observing? Still, it meant that Jorie had to be aware that she was watching shape-shifters. A traitor had to be involved in some way.