Doctor Wolf (The Collegium Book 4) Read online

  “Good-night.” Liz kissed them both and left them to their squabble. The group around them were paying attention and happy to add to Natalie’s list of Phil’s wilder ideas.

  “Whimsical conceits,” Phil said. “A poet…”

  Liz looked around.

  Carson had disappeared.

  She shrugged and made her way to the hall. She’d like to say her good-byes to Grandfather even if it meant encountering Brandon again.

  Grandfather caught her cautious appraisal of the hall. “Brandon’s just gone, and I scare all the other fellows. You’re safe. Come and give me a hug.”

  She did so, reassured as always by her larger-than-life grandfather. He wasn’t exaggerating, either. Most people were in awe of him.

  He walked her out to her car.

  “Grandfather?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What are you scheming with Carson?”

  “Scheming, is it?” The old man scowled down at her, mock-fierce, before the humor broke through. “I thought it was you that was playing games with the boy. Roughly two dozen people have mentioned something about a curtain to me.”

  “Never listen to idle gossip,” Liz repeated one of his favorite maxims back to him.

  Only as she drove out the imposing gates did she realize how successfully Grandfather had avoided answering her.

  He had to know that wouldn’t stop her curiosity.

  The streets were relatively quiet. Liz made good time back to Eaton Square, but hesitated. The square’s central, fenced and private garden was peaceful and dark, but its constrained greenery reminded her of her uncle’s advice. She did need to run as wolf.

  She spun the steering wheel to the right and headed towards the Thames River.

  Running in London presented some challenges. If she ran as human, she risked being attacked since her hours as a junior doctor at a busy city Accident and Emergency department left her with free time at odd times. But if she ran as a wolf, her were-form was two times as large as a real wolf, and much larger than any normal dog. Therefore, she risked discovery. In the past, and for most weres, that meant exercising absolute caution. Weres learned (and sometimes were responsible for) where surveillance cameras malfunctioned, and they mapped routes that enabled them to stretch their legs without attracting the attention of the mundane world.

  But now that Fay was one of the family, Liz had another option.

  Fay had constructed a look-away spell that shimmered around Liz. As a were, and not directly affected by magic, Liz couldn’t detect the spell, but when she activated it using either the human or wolf gestures Fay had coded into it, then mundanes, magic users and human technology couldn’t detect her. Other weres could see her, but they didn’t count. It meant she was free to run through London.

  And Fay, inherently generous—and perhaps wanting her in-laws to accept her—had also gifted each of them with an amulet that they could, in turn, lend to someone of their choosing who needed a similar invisibility.

  Liz had that amulet in her purse.

  She drove to Carson’s rented house in Brentford. With the car windows down, she could smell the heavy scent of the Thames, as well as the rich, green and complicated scents of Kew Gardens on the far side of the river. Parking in London being notoriously difficult, she took the first spot she found, a block away from Carson’s home, and hiked towards it.

  If he was home, what was the worst he could say in answer to her knock at the door?

  The tidy gray stone Victorian villa looked modest from the front. A bay window to the left of the black front door had its curtains drawn, but a chink of light shone through. Since Carson didn’t seem the type of person to leave a light on for fear of coming home to a dark house, Liz assumed he was home. She rang the doorbell.

  The mellow chime mimicked the deeper note of Big Ben, the famous clock tower. As it faded, she had an impression of footsteps fading, too, but she must have misheard because the door opened within seconds.

  “Liz?” Carson had shed his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt and kicked off his shoes.

  He really had the most perfect chest.

  She forced her attention back to his face. “I want to go for a run, as a wolf, and I thought of Kew Gardens.”

  “Don’t leave paw prints.”

  “Funny.” Weres were taught to hide their tracks from their first shift of form in puberty. “I wondered if you’d like to go with me?”

  “Because I have a key to the gardens?”

  “Nope.” She dangled the gold chain of Fay’s amulet from her right index finger. “Because I have an amulet that looped over your head will allow you to run through the city unseen by all but weres.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Isn’t it?” She grinned at him, daring him.

  “All right. Do you need to stash anything inside?” It sounded like an invitation to step inside, but he didn’t move out of the doorway.

  What was it he’d just said? Interesting! What was he hiding that he didn’t want her in the house?

  When weres shifted, their clothes shifted with them. It was as if whatever force enabled their change of form recognized their clothes as a kind of skin. However, that didn’t extend to objects they held.

  Liz handed over her handbag. “My phone’s in my bag.”

  Carson tucked it just inside the door. Then he pulled the door closed. It locked automatically. Modern technology offered weres one advantage. With biometric security, they no longer had to worry about where to hide their house keys. A scan of eyes or handprints, and doors unlocked.

  “I usually shift around the corner,” he said. “A renovation’s been abandoned. I don’t know what’s gone wrong. But they have a tiny yard and its entrance isn’t overlooked by anyone.”

  It sure wasn’t. The renovation project was a mean 1930s addition to the street and a sensible heritage officer would have let it be demolished. As it was, Liz could understand a renovator becoming discouraged.

  “You shift first,” she said. “Then I’ll loop the amulet over your head. Fay’s enchanted me, so I don’t need to wear an amulet.”

  “Fay? Oh, your brother’s mate. The mage.”

  She waited in case he was going to show the scorn too many weres exhibited towards a magic user.

  Instead, out of sight of the street, Carson simply shifted.

  Oh. Wow.

  As a wolf, he was stunning. He was a third again as large as her wolf form, and a dark gray color that was all shadow and hidden danger. He ducked his head for the amulet and his eyes were a gray color too, with barely a hint of blue. A wolf of secrets and silence.

  His fur was soft and thick as she adjusted the amulet’s chain to sit safe and secure.

  “Done.”

  He padded out of the tiny yard, giving her room to shift.

  The moon was waning. She shifted in its silvery light. Her own coat was brown, the color of bitter chocolate with occasional hints of gold. She saw Carson assess her, and then, they were off!

  They raced down the road. It was glorious to feel her own power, the freedom and strength of this other self, and to know that Carson matched her and experienced the world as she did. She would never, ever say anything because it was obvious that Steve adored Fay, and the mate-bond confirmed their rightness together, but Liz couldn’t imagine living her life with a non-were mate.

  She’d tried. Her ex-boyfriend Harry had been mundanely human. They’d split up, ostensibly because his work as a policeman—he was now a detective-sergeant with the Metropolitan Police—and her job as a casualty doctor were both too high stress to support each other. But they could have made that work. No, they’d split because she couldn’t be her full self with Harry. Other weres had successful relationships with non-weres, but she couldn’t imagine living that way. How could you share everything if your partner couldn’t experience this: being in the world with every sense open to it.

  Liz ran through the night and rejoiced in being vividly alive.

 
; Carson headed for the bridge, and she bumped him, hard. Not a bridge. The river beckoned. The Thames was narrow, here. They waded in, avoiding the splash of jumping that Fay’s magic mightn’t hide. The water was cold, polluted, but still alive with wildness. A duck squawked, unfooled by magic, and recognizing wolves. It flapped and quacked madly away from them.

  As if either of them would be foolish enough to eat a Thames duck!

  Carson reached the far bank first. He shook himself as Liz clambered up.

  She sneezed. Three goods shakes and her coat felt almost dry. The outer layer had protected her during the brief swim.

  No need to worry about gates in this form. Liz followed Carson along the car park road that skirted the garden’s enclosing brick wall. His lope accelerated and she matched him. A leap, the slightest scrabble for extra push, and they were up and over, inside Kew Gardens.

  Carson had run as wolf through the garden before. The expanse of Kew Gardens was irresistible to a were accustomed to wild country freedom. The collection of plants from all over the world produced a cocktail of scents that masked the city stench of London and stirred memories in him. But running through the garden with Liz was different.

  She pounced at him, inviting him to play, and they tangled on the lawn before she wriggled away and he chased her. He was bigger, but she was wilier. She used shadows and tactics, circling back and leaping up onto structures. Wolves weren’t climbers, but Liz seemed happier than most up high. He recalled that her brother and father were leopard-weres. Then she turned the tables and chased him, and he almost forgot himself and yipped excitement. It had been a long time, not since he’d been home a year ago, since he’d played. He ran occasionally with the Beo Pack, but play was a different thing, something that required greater trust. With Liz, there were no considerations of dominance or power.

  She was goofy. As she tired, she rolled on her back, paws flopping like a puppy’s, and half-laughed, half-panted, her tail swishing.

  Her vulnerability—throat and stomach exposed—and her ease at being vulnerable with him woke a protective streak. He lifted his muzzle, scenting the air for threats; listening for them. He heard the small wildlife of the garden: the hoot of an owl, the snuffling rustle of hedgehogs, the scurry of mice. From overhead came the darting shadow of bats.

  Liz rolled to her feet and they trotted back towards the river.

  She was wrong, he realized. The men chasing her weren’t simply after her wealth and the power of her family connections. They were attracted to her. She was an omega wolf from old folk tales, a person who made people feel better, healthier, happier. Who wouldn’t want someone like that in their life?

  But by keeping her out of his life, he kept her safe.

  He’d known when he went in search of the Elixir Gentian that the quest would be dangerous. He hadn’t thought through as clearly the fact that the danger would peak not in the Carpathian Mountains but here in London.

  John, Liz’s grandfather, had realized though. The old man was incredible. He’d warned Carson that the danger would increase the closer they got to proving the gentian’s power. For that, Dr. Victoria Pye was conducting preliminary lab work at the nearby hospital. Carson’s role was to prove that the plant could be grown commercially; hence, John’s provision of a London house with an extensive greenhouse. Already, one break-in at the greenhouse had been attempted, and repelled by the warding set around it.

  Magic. Carson had never had much time for it. He was a practical man and wolf-were even if he did hunt botanical legends. But, now, here he was wearing a magical amulet, and it was amazing. On his previous visits to the garden in wolf form he’d had to be surreptitious. Now, he trotted along the main paths with Liz. They leapt the wall, swam the river, and shook the water from their coats. Magic could be liberating.

  But turning the corner into his street, Liz stopped. She sniffed at something in the air.

  Only a drift of scent, and gone before Carson could identify it. He whined a question. Threat?

  Liz shifted to human. “Grandfather is here.”

  And there could be only one reason the Earl of Beo would turn up here on the night he was hosting a party at his own home.

  Carson ran.

  Chapter 3

  Liz watched Carson dash into the tiny yard he used as a changing room, and shift.

  Since he was wearing Fay’s amulet, he could have shifted unnoticed in the street, but old habits of hiding were hard to break—and possibly safer unbroken. Once human, he unlooped the amulet from his neck and returned it to her. “Where did you park your car?”

  “Back that way.” She gestured vaguely.

  “I’ll walk you to it.”

  She folded her arms and gave him the sort of look she’d perfected for use on drug-ravaged patients acting out in her emergency department at the hospital. With them, the hint of wolf in her eyes flipped an instinctual switch in their hindbrains, and most of them quieted, frozen in the way prey hides.

  With Carson, her “look” only elicited a sigh. “You’re going to insist on seeing John, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’ll only tell you to go home.”

  She didn’t bother to answer. Grandfather would never do such a thing.

  In silence, they walked up to Carson’s rented house.

  The front door opened, and Grandfather stood silhouetted by the light from the hallway. “About time you got home.”

  “What’s happened?” Carson asked. He moved to block Liz entering. “You should go home.”

  “No.” Grandfather reached past him and grabbed Liz’s hand. “We need her. Matthew is refusing to go to hospital.” He hauled her into the house. “As to what happened…someone broke into the greenhouse.”

  With Carson looming ominously behind her and radiating disapproval and worry, Liz let Grandfather tow her towards the back of the house and what turned out to be the kitchen.

  A man in his forties leaned against a counter, a pack of frozen peas held to his head, glowering in the direction of the back window. The view from the window was of a substantial, if old-fashioned, glasshouse.

  Liz concentrated on the man in a security guard’s uniform. “Matthew?”

  He grunted.

  Carson’s question of what the heck happened, got a fuller response.

  “I got jumped.” Matthew transferred his glare from the glasshouse to them. Anyone who’d dared to attack him was brave or foolish, or knew no better. Liz could scent the truth. Matthew was a bear-were. But even in his human form he was six foot six and correspondingly broad. “The silent alarm went off, but it goes off most nights thanks to stray cats. That wasn’t strange. I looked around, saw nothing, reset the alarm and came back in here to make a cup of tea.” A jar of honey stood open on the counter. Matthew had been sweetening his tea, as bear-weres liked to do.

  “Then I saw a marmalade cat dash for the greenhouse. The alarm would go off, again, and I was sick of it. I intended to catch the damn cat.”

  “And do what with it?” Liz stood on tiptoe to study his head wound, but Matthew was determined to keep the peas packet over it.

  “My granddaughter’s a doctor,” Grandfather rumbled.

  Matthew sat in a chair.

  The skin hadn’t broken, it was merely a bump. But Liz knew concussion could be tricky, even among weres. “I need my med-kit from the car.”

  Carson walked out.

  Since he didn’t have her keys, she had no idea where he was going. Certainly not for her kit. “Matthew, did you lose consciousness at all?”

  “No. And I wasn’t going to eat the damn cat. I was going to find its owners and return it to them personally, and tell them not to let it out at night.”

  Liz blinked. She imagined the impact of an early morning visit from Matthew in a surly mood. “And if it was a stray?”

  Carson returned with a fully stocked medical kit. There was even a tiny torch.

  “If it was a stray, I was going to take it hom
e.” Tough guy Matthew was a softie. “But when I walked outside, someone hit me. I went down, but I wasn’t out. I thought they’d hit me again, but the ward went off. There were at least three men. Two had to grab the third whom the ward zapped.”

  Carson strode out to the glasshouse.

  Liz checked Matthew’s pupils. “There doesn’t seem to be concussion, but is there anyone at home who can check on you?”

  “My wife. She works from home. Graphic designer.”

  “Good. If she’s at all worried about you—if you’re slow to respond, for instance—don’t give her hassle but go straight to the hospital. I don’t want you driving home, either.”

  “His firm will drive him,” Grandfather intervened.

  “I phoned them,” Matthew added. “They phoned John, and he got here before them.” Surprise and a bit of respect in his tone.

  “That’ll be them, now.” Grandfather went to let in the security team.

  Liz busied herself making tea for everyone as the three new arrivals received a succinct report from Matthew, then went to assess the glasshouse’s perimeter with Carson.

  “You’re not going out there with them?” she asked her grandfather.

  He shook his head. “I’m waiting on my own expert.”

  She and Matthew stared at him.

  “The ward,” Grandfather said. “They must have broken the outer ward, the look-away perimeter spell, to be bounced from the inner keep-out ward. Albert, the mage who set them for me, will have felt the outer ward break. He’ll be here soon.”

  Liz swallowed a mouthful of hot tea, burning her tongue. She hoped Albert could be discreet. He was the mage she’d employed to ward her own home, a warding she didn’t want her family to know about since it revealed her concerns about security. If they knew she was afraid, there’d be no stopping their interference. But as she thought of Albert’s toadstool, morose self, she decided there was small chance he’d get chatty.

  Still…to go or stay? If she left, she’d not get answers about what Carson and Grandfather were up to.