Derik's Bane (7 page)

She stomped over to him and stuffed three chunks into his mouth.

“Fgggs,” he said.

“You’re welcome. So somebody sent you here to kill me because I’m the reincarnation of Morgan Le Fay, that’s what you’re telling me.” He didn’t answer because it wasn’t an actual question. “And other people are also out to get me, because of this.” He nodded, still chewing. “So I shouldn’t call the cops, I should leave.”

“With me,” he said, swallowing.

“Oh, that’s
rich
.”

“I figure there’s more to this than meets the eye, y’know? So we should take off and see if we can see what’s what.”

She was cutting up another apple in rapid, angry motions, and he eyed the knife a little nervously; if she got pissed enough to plant it in his eye, he’d probably never howl at the moon again. He was a fast healer, but there was some brain damage that couldn’t be fixed, no matter how close the full moon was.

“See what’s what,” she repeated. “Yeah, sure. Let’s get right on that.” She jammed a few more pieces into his mouth and, although eating cut-up apples had never seemed particularly erotic to him before, the smell of her and the touch of her skin on his lips was starting to, um, cause him a little problem. Okay, a big problem.

He shifted in the chair and wished he could cross his legs. “Look, you get kind of weirded out whenever I suggest that there’s maybe more to you than meets the eye,” he said around a mouthful of apple. “So why don’t you tell me? What happened before today? How come you’re so lucky?”

“I don’t
know
. I just am. I always have been. My mom used to call me her lucky break.”

“Oh yeah? Where is she now?’

“She’s dead.”

“Oh. Sorry. Mine, too.”

“Gosh, we’ve got all kinds of things in common,” she said, rolling her eyes and shoving another chunk of apple between his lips.

“Meant to be, I guess,” he said, chomping.

“Okay, so, I won the lottery. A couple of times,” she said grudgingly.

“You
what
?” He knew she wasn’t lying, but it was still surprising. “More than once?”

“I tend to get . . . windfalls . . . whenever I’m short of money. And once I needed a few thousand to pay for the last quarter of school, and I won the lottery, and it was exactly the amount I needed. And I got a refund one year when I needed some extra money to—but everybody gets tax refunds.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never even met one person who won the lottery, never mind won it twice.”

“Four times,” she muttered.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! And you’re giving me shit like I’m crazy?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she insisted.

“Okay, Morgan—”

“Quit that!”

“—maybe you can explain how, at the exact moment you needed to get me out of the way, I get a freakin’
brain aneurysm
, how about that?”

“A happy coincidence?” she guessed.

“For Christ’s sake.”

“Actually,” she said, clearing her throat, “there was a serial rapist in this area a couple years ago. And, um, he got in somehow while I was at school, but when I came home I found him dead in my kitchen.”

“Brutally stabbed?”

“No, um, the autopsy showed he had a congenital heart defect, a minor one that shouldn’t have given him any trouble, but for some reason, while he was waiting here to—to—well, he had an M.I. and died.”

“What’s an M.I.?”

“Myocardial infarction. Heart attack,” she said impatiently.

He gaped at her. “Holy shit, I’m lucky to be alive!”

“Well, you really kind of are.” She poked another piece of apple in his mouth. “Let the record show I still think you’re nuts. Also, once when I overslept and missed the bus, it crashed, and half the people aboard were killed.”

“Jesus Christ!” It was all he could say. This was worse—and cooler—than he had ever dreamed. “That’s it, that’s your magic. You’re phenomenally fucking lucky.
All
the time.”

“There’s no such thing as magic.” But that species of hellish doubt was on her face again. “Everybody’s lucky.”

“Sara, for God’s sake. Listen to yourself.”

“The team at the hospital . . .”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess. They were like the Three Stooges—or however many of them there were. Knocking heads, falling down, having heart attacks on the spot . . . and you walked away without a scratch.”

“That might be true . . .”

“We should go clubbing some night.”

She laughed unwillingly. “Sure we should. I’m sure the police will let you out in no time.”

“Oh, come on! After all this, you’re still calling the cops on me? We should get out of here!”

“You
did
try to kill me,” she reminded him—like he needed it! He’d never live it down. Derik Gardner, badass werewolf, totally unable to kill a nurse. A nurse with a doctorate, but still. “And I’ve only got your word that you’re not going to try again.”

“Well, my word’s good,” he grumped. Of course, she couldn’t
know
that. Not like another Pack member would know it. It made everything harder. Which was kind of cool. Yet aggravating. “And like I said, there’s more to this than what we can smell. I think—”

“Than what we can
smell
?”

“Never mind. Look, let’s do some digging, okay?”

“Okay!” she said with fake enthusiasm. “Do you want to be Nancy Drew or a Hardy Boy?”

He ignored the sarcasm . . . he’d had years of practice with Moira. “Let’s find out what exactly you’re supposed to do. I mean, you don’t want to destroy the world, right?”

“This is the most surreal conversation I’ve ever had,” she commented. “And no. Duh.”

“So how come anybody who can see the future—I assume that’s how the bad guys knew to come after you—says you’re gonna do just that? Huh? Don’t you think that’s weird? Huh?”

“That’s not the only thing I think is weird.”

“Then hold on to your hat, sunshine.”

She eyed him warily. “What? I’m not really up to more surreal revelations . . .”

“I’m a werewolf.”

“Damn it! What did I just
say
?”

“I’M A WEREWOLF,” THE GORGEOUS NUT JOB SAID again. He shifted in the chair and winced. She suspected he was sore . . . certainly there was plenty of dried blood on his forehead and speckled all over his shirt. She felt sorry for him and stomped on the emotion. “Soon to be a hairless one, but there you go.”

“Whine much? Try getting a bikini wax.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Look, one thing at a time, all right?” Sara tried not to show how rattled she was. She suspected she was fighting a losing battle. As if her day hadn’t been upsetting enough, she was actually turned on by hand-feeding Hunka Hunka Burning Looney. She could feel the stubble on his chin when she popped more apple slices into his mouth, could feel the warmth of his face, smell the apple sweetness of his breath, could

feel his . . . his . . .

Aw, nuts. His lips were moving. More nonsense about

Morgan Le Fay, no doubt.

“What?” she asked.

“I
said
, one of my Pack members told me what you were going to do, and my—my boss, I guess you’d call him, he sent me here to take care of you. And not in a good way, F.Y.I.”

“Sounds like a real prince,” she muttered, trying not to stare at his mouth.

Derik shrugged. “More like a king, actually, and he’s okay. He’s my best friend, so I had to leave before I killed him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, I couldn’t imagine anything worse than killing a friend.”

“That’s pretty bad,” she admitted, wondering when she’d checked her sanity at the door. This was definitely the most surreal conversation she’d had in . . . ever. “It’s probably just as well you left town to kill me instead.”

“To try to kill you,” he corrected. Then he grinned, showing many teeth. It was so startling—a white flash, and cripes, those chompers looked
sharp
—that she nearly took a step back. “And I like you, too, by the way,” he added, which made no sense, but who cared? “You are, in case nobody’s told you, extremely cute. Are you a natural redhead? You are, aren’t you?”

“Never mind,” she said severely. “I’m going in the back room now, to call the police. You’re extremely confused, if gorgeous, and I . . . have had . . . enough.”

“Oh, me, too,” he assured her. “I don’t think I’ve been less comfortable in my life. So if you don’t mind . . . and even if you do . . .” Then he did something like an all-over shrug, and she heard tearing tape, and then he—he was standing up!

One more time: He was standing up!

“Gah,” she said, or something like it. How had he—how had he torn through all that—and the arm of the chair was broken, too, which was weird, and—

He was grabbing her! Well, reaching for her. Taking her by the arms

“Gah!”

and pulling her into a snug embrace

“Gah!”

and bending his head toward hers

“Ga—mmph!”

and then his mouth was on hers, moving deliciously across hers, and she was grabbing his shoulders to, um, push him away, okay, she was going with that, yeah, pushing him away, except now she was up on her tiptoes, the better to fit against him, and he smelled delicious, he smelled like the woods in springtime, and his mouth, oh God, his mouth was warm, and his breath was redolent of apples and . . . and . . .

He’d broken the kiss and was standing three feet away from her. She’d never seen him move. She’d blinked, and he was done. Her mind tried to process his speed and couldn’t do it. Just . . . couldn’t.

“Sorry,” he said cheerfully. “Wanted to do
that
for oh, about the last four hours. Now it’s out of my system. Okay, maybe not. So! What’s next, sunshine?”

“Gah?” she asked, raising a trembling hand to her mouth.

“I think we should put our, um, heads together and figure out what’s what.”

“You’re
not
a werewolf,” she said, because it was the only thing she could think of.

He sighed and walked into her living room, squatted, picked up her couch, stood, and held it in one hand, in much the same way she would hold a tray. Fortunately, she had vaulted ceilings.

“You’re not gonna make me juggle it, are you?” He tossed her couch a foot in the air, caught it, tossed it again. “I don’t think I have enough room.”

“So you work out,” she said through numb lips. “That doesn’t mean you—you—you know.”

“Get fuzzy and bark at the moon one night a month?”

“Well . . .”

“Look, I believed
you’re
a hideously dangerous sorceress fated to destroy the world.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” she snapped. “And put that thing down.”

“Say it,” he sang. He wasn’t even out of breath!

“Just put it down, and we’ll talk some more, okay?”

“Saaaaaaaay it . . .”

“Fine, fine! You’re a werewolf, and I’m a demented sorceress. Now let go of my couch,” she begged.

“Okay.” He carefully put it back where he’d found it. “So, now what?”

“Well, I’m not going to destroy the world, I’ll tell you that right now.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. It was easier to be brave—sound brave, anyway—when he was all the way across the room.

“Works for me. How about another kiss? No? Spoilsport.”

“You’re really weird,” she informed him.

“That’s what they tell me.” He was weirdly cheerful. He was, in fact, the smilingest guy she’d ever known. Maybe he was mildly retarded.

“ ‘They’ being . . . ?”

“My Pack.”

“Your pack.”

“Uppercase
P
.”

“Mmm. Of werewolves, right?”

“Yup.”

“Who sent you out here to stop me from destroying the world.”

“Yup.”

“But you’re not going to kill me.”

“Well . . .” He spread his hands apologetically. “I couldn’t, first of all. I mean, really couldn’t. I felt bad about it, but I was gonna do it, don’t get me wrong. But . . . I didn’t. And in case no one’s ever told you, an aneurysm hurts like a bastard.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“So I figure, we team up, figure out who the
real
bad guys are, and save the world.”

“But what if
you’re
the real bad guy?”

“Well, I know it’s not me. And you were pretty upset about something when you showed up. I’m betting you’ve met the real bad guys. So, I’ll help you get ’em.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“Well. It’ll help me both personally and professionally, see, because I’ve kinda wanted to be on my own, and I figure this is the chance to show what I can do. Just . . . don’t blow up the planet in the meantime, okay? I’d never live it down. I mean—how totally embarrassing.”

“Team up?” Why was the idea as exciting as it was frightening? “Like that, eh?”

He smiled at her and, oddly, the expression wasn’t startling. Maybe because he wasn’t showing so many teeth. “Like that. So, what do you say?”

“I say we’re both nuts.” She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I can’t believe I’m considering this. I can’t believe I’m
not
calling the police. I can’t believe . . .”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about
that
. I told you, I like you, too.”

“Swell,” she muttered.

“I WISH YOU WOULDN’T DO THAT.”

“Sorry.” He pulled back so his head was inside the car. “Can’t help it. This place smells
great
.”

“Look, it’s weird enough that you stick your head out of the car like a big—well, you know. But do you have to do it while you’re driving?”