Changeling Dream Read online

  I should be asking what happened to his clothes. Maybe he’s not quite right in the head or something. Although you’d think Connor would have warned me. She shoved those thoughts away as she poured coffee into a travel mug, checked her watch, and headed out the door. If she hurried, she could still go yard-saling with Birkie. Maybe she could even find something useful for her apartment. Like a baseball bat to keep by the bed.

  James badly wanted to Change. He had had his fill of being in his human form, of feeling human emotions and thinking human thoughts. But not a damn thing had been resolved. And now there were even more things to think about. For instance, there was that little detail about the date. He was still in shock from that discovery. He knew instinctively that he had been a wolf for a long time. Knew Evelyn had been gone for a long time—he could feel a distance. But thirty years?

  And the dream—he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d dreamed like that. Like a human. When he was a wolf, there were only brief pleasant dreams of the hunt, the chase, forgotten within seconds of awakening. This dream was different. Not only did he recall every detail, it felt more like a memory than a dream. Had he been remembering something? James thought carefully, recalled the sight of the blond woman on the ground. The picture matched the odd vision he’d had when he left her sleeping on the trail below Elk Point. It had to mean something. And if it was a memory, then there was more to remember. Would he dream again?

  As he paced the loft, he caught sight of something from the corner of his eye. The bit of fluttering plaid turned out to be a hanging strip of his sleeve. Closer inspection of his clothes—or what was left of them—revealed that he wasn’t as dressed as he’d first thought. No wonder Jillian thought he was homeless.

  Annoyed, he seized his shirt in both hands and yanked. It came away with no resistance, and he held the shirt up to look at it. The material was not just torn, but the edges looked charred, and the entire left shoulder was missing. James stared, then touched a tentative hand to his own shoulder. Changelings didn’t scar, but there had been a wound there, no, two of them. Shot. How had he forgotten that? There was no blood on the shirt of course—the Change had taken care of that, converted it into energy as it did with most organic substances. But he had been shot. By whom he didn’t know, only that it had happened as he knelt over Evelyn. Jesus. Jesus Christ.

  The urge to Change was strong. He didn’t want to think about any of this stuff, didn’t want to think about anything at all for that matter. Except now there were practical concerns to be dealt with. Even if he was planning to be a wolf, there was always the chance he’d have to switch to human form, even briefly. Who knew what situation would come up? He’d certainly never expected the situation he was in now. And Jillian’s reaction to what he was wearing—which was little better than nothing—proved that he didn’t have a hope of blending in with other humans. Instead he would attract attention, something that went against every natural instinct. Shit. He’d have to follow her advice and raid Connor’s office, find something to wear, something to last the next thirty frickin’ years. It was definitely going to take him a while to adjust to that date.

  In the end, he remained as a human and sat in the loft to wait. He watched Jillian drive away in one of the clinic trucks, saw traffic on the road beyond the clinic. One car turned in a little later, with a young girl behind the wheel. James could hear the keys in her hand as she unlocked the front door, heard excited barks in the kennel room and sounds in the livestock areas that told him she was looking after the animals. The girl left. The traffic slowed to a trickle. Shadows grew smaller, then nonexistent as the sun reached its midday peak. And still James sat staring out the window.

  As a man. A man who was highly attracted to Jillian Descharme, whether he wanted to be or not. He still couldn’t remember what the connection was between them—between her and the wolf, he corrected—but he knew there was one. He could feel it. More than that, to his surprise he wanted to feel the connection, but James shoved that notion away every time it surfaced. It was only attraction. Nothing more. If he hadn’t Changed to human form, if he wasn’t in human form now, he wouldn’t be having these feelings at all. He felt guilty for having them, as if he was being disloyal, even unfaithful to Evelyn. It added to the burden of guilt that he carried over her death. He had brought that danger to her.

  Just like he was putting Jillian Descharme in danger every moment that he lingered. He should leave right now and never go near her again. But what about the wolf? If he returned to lupine form, submerged the human fully within the animal, would Jillian be safe then or would his animal nature continue to seek her out? Hell, the wolf seemed drawn to her as the tide was drawn by the moon. What on earth was the attraction there?

  Suddenly his heart stuttered as the animal within stirred. Mate. Mine.

  James clapped a hand to his chest. Fiery pain exploded there as the wolf within tried to force the Change, tried to claw its way out, snarling and snapping. Mate. Mine.

  Long moments passed before James was able to regain the reins of control. When it was over, he was kneeling in the straw, sweating profusely. The blood was pounding loudly in his ears, and his ribs felt like they’d been kicked repeatedly. “Jesus. Jesus Murphy. What in the goddamn hell was that?” The wolf was part of him, was him. It didn’t have a mind of its own. Did it? Had he finally snapped? Had he been a wolf too long?

  He drew a long shaky breath. Mate, the wolf had declared. That was ridiculous. It couldn’t be that, it wasn’t possible. Some Changelings were said to be able to recognize their future mates, but he didn’t know any personally. There were stories in Changeling history about it, but he had always figured they were myths, the lupine equivalent of the human ‘love at first sight’ theme. Hollywood had always made money with that story line, probably still did. The uneasy thought that he had no idea if Hollywood was still around crossed his mind.

  Besides all that, he didn’t need a mate. He’d had a mate, had chosen her and loved her with all his heart, and because she had loved him back, she was dead. He wasn’t going to let that happen again, had already resolved to live a solitary life. Yet the wolf continued to be focused on Jillian. Even obsessed. Had he slipped over the edge without knowing it, splintered into two personalities, the man and the wolf?

  A truck pulled into the laneway and around to the bay. Connor. James had a momentary impulse to escape out the window but was instantly ashamed. His younger brother was a Changeling too, with all the senses and gifts that entailed. The moment he opened the door, he would be all too aware that James had been there. Undoubtedly Connor already knew that James had been here before. Better to be up-front about it, let Connor find me here. But he would find the wolf, not the man. James didn’t plan on staying in human form one minute more than he had to. He sure didn’t want his brother or anyone else to get used to seeing him in two-legged form.

  “Aha, just as I thought.” Birkie dug between layers of stained melamine bowls and chipped glass ashtrays until she had a small dish in her hand. “I think this little treasure should go home with us.”

  Jillian squinted at it in the dim light. The garage ceiling was low, with only a single bulb hanging from it, giving the whole place a cave-like atmosphere. The dish in her friend’s hand was shaped like a scallop shell, but there were lots of shell-shaped dishes in the world. Except for the fact that it was much dirtier than anything else in the garage—earth was crusted inside as if it had been used under a plant pot and there was even a dead fly stuck rakishly on the rim—she could see nothing special about it. “Um. It’s interesting. . . .”

  “Much more than interesting, hon.” Birkie held it up and used a manicured thumbnail to gently scratch away the grime that obscured the mark on the bottom. Limoges, France.

  Jillian’s jaw dropped. “Is that what I think it is? How on earth did you know? You must have X-ray vision.” She gestured helplessly at the cluttered stacks of mismatched dishes that covered every square inch of an eight
-foot table. She felt like an archaeologist on a dig. No, more like the archaeologist’s bumbling assistant who didn’t have a clue what to look for. Birkie had already plucked an Austrian crystal candy dish from under a stack of plastic fastfood cups. She’d mined similar treasures from the other yard sales they’d visited that morning, all of which were lined up like trophies on the backseat of the truck. With them were Jillian’s spoils—a couple of paperback books she knew she’d probably never get around to reading, a set of four glasses with cows on them, some extra spoons, and a TV table. She’d found a baseball bat at the last sale but conceded it to a little boy and his mom.

  The older woman smiled. “It just takes practice, hon, and the love of a good bargain. So, back to your adventure with James. You were saying you just left him in the loft?”

  “What else was I supposed to do? He’s a grown-up. And if he wants to sleep in the hay, I can understand how that might be pleasant. Short-term, anyway. Although I don’t understand why he’s not staying with one of his brothers. I wondered if maybe he was a little, well, off or something, especially with the condition of his clothes.”

  “Were you afraid of him? You were eyeing that baseball bat.”

  “Yes . . . no . . . well, when he surprised me, I was scared shitless. But after that, no, I wasn’t afraid. There’s just something about him.”

  “Well, there’s the fact that he’s tall, blond, and handsome as sin. Could sure help a gal to overlook a lot.” Birkie deliberately fluttered her lashes as her friend rolled her eyes. “Those Macleods always were a good-looking bunch.”

  Jillian latched onto that. “So, you’ve lived in this area a long time. You must have known James pretty much his whole life.”

  There was a pause as Birkie circled a couple of ads. “Not his whole life but quite a while, you could say. Say, aren’t those eyes of his something else? You have to admit he has great eyes. Just like a—”

  “Like a Viking? That’s what I thought when I first saw him.”

  “I like that. Yes, he certainly would make a great Viking. All those muscles, and him so tall too. I can just picture him on the deck of one of those dragon boats.”

  Suddenly Jillian could picture that too. James dressed in leather, his belted tunic open to the waist so his muscled chest was clearly visible. His arms bare except for ornate bronze bands circling his thick biceps. Below the tunic would be powerful legs. She imagined they would have the same dusting of blond hair as his chest. And as for what was under the tunic . . . Jillian started and blinked to find her friend fanning her with an old calendar.

  “Takes a girl’s breath right away, doesn’t he?”

  “Oh, all right. I admit it, he’s hot. Scorching, have-a-fire-extinguisher-with-you-at-all-times hot. Connor’s gorgeous too, but for some reason it’s not the same. I don’t daydream about him. And I did find myself wishing James would turn around for just a moment.”

  “What for?”

  “So I could see if his butt matched the rest of him.”

  They both burst into helpless giggles then, and when other yard-sale enthusiasts turned to stare, giggled even harder. Still laughing, they staggered out into the sunshine, clutching each other’s arms for support. Jillian finally had put her hand over her mouth to stifle herself while her friend counted out dollars to an elderly man basking in a lawn chair.

  Back in Birkie’s red pickup, Jillian asked, “So is something wrong with him?”

  “With who?” Her friend was scanning the classifieds for their next yard sale.

  “James. Is something wrong with him? Mentally, I mean.”

  Birkie looked up quickly. “Good heavens, no. Not at all. In fact, James Macleod is as smart as they come. Believe me, the brains match the brawn in this case.”

  “And?” Jillian pressed. “Oh, come on, you have to give me some details. I’m the one who nearly had a heart attack over an intruder in my apartment. I’m the one who had years taken off her life when a man grabbed me in the loft. I deserve a little description here. If you have any compassion at all, you’ll spill whatever juicy information you know.”

  “Well, I’m not sure that I remember very much. My memory—”

  “Birkie!”

  “Sorry dear, you’re just so much fun to tease. Let’s see now. James is an independent soul, very hardworking. Talented too—not many people have the knack for farming that he does. Crops or animals, doesn’t matter. He’s amazing at both. My Gram used to travel out to his ranch sometimes. They’d talk plants and herbs for hours.”

  “He has a ranch?”

  “He and his wife did, on the other side of the valley. Near Spirit River actually. But it was sold a few years back. He’s . . . well, James has been away for some years now, hon.”

  “His wife? He’s married?”

  “Was.” Birkie pointed to the newspaper. “Look at that! Enid Malkinson has herself a little sale going on. We’ve just got to say hi to her and Poodle before we grab a late lunch.”

  Jillian had to leave off fumbling with her seat belt and grab the handle on the dash for balance as the red truck sped away from the curb and headed down the street. She liked the elderly Siamese cat and his owner, but right now they seemed to provide Birkie with a convenient diversion from her questions. So James was married once. Well, that happened to a lot of people. Not everyone stayed together. But she couldn’t help wondering why any woman would want to let him go. Did he snore? Did he squeeze the toothpaste tube wrong? Gamble? Drink? Womanize? James had seemed gruff, almost grouchy. Had he always been like that?

  Birkie was still talking a mile a minute about Enid Malkinson. Jillian sighed inwardly and put her questions on a back burner. For now.

  Chapter Ten

  Connor clung to the top of the ladder, staring into the loft. Changelings had keen eyesight, but it was still a struggle to adjust to the late afternoon sunlight glaring hotly in the far window. He shaded his eyes, realized they still had that gritty ache of not enough sleep, even though he’d slept like the dead last night. It was sheer luxury having someone else on call instead of him, but he had been up at dawn just the same, tending to things on his own farm. Now he was in the middle of a very long list of errands, and picking up some udder balm and antibiotics from the clinic was one of them. Still, despite the distractions, the moment he’d crossed the threshold of the building, he had scented his brother.

  James? James, what the hell are you doing up here? He spoke by thought, even though there was no one to overhear him.

  Good hiding place. No hunters. There was a movement to Connor’s left, and a white wolf raised its massive head, shook the straw from its face, and regarded Connor with its vivid blue eyes.

  Connor climbed the rest of the way into the loft and sat beside the wolf, even as he frowned over James’s words. Wolves weren’t a protected species here, but the forests surrounding Dunvegan were more likely to be filled with berry pickers than hunters at this time of year. Sounds like bullshit, James. Since when do you give a rat’s ass about hunters? They’d never get close to you and we both know it.

  The white wolf turned its head to the window.

  Look, bro, don’t get me wrong, you’re welcome here—but why are you here? And for that matter, why did my brand new vet come in this week smelling like you and covered in white wolf hair? She’s crazy about wolves so I’m sure it gave her a thrill to see you up close and personal, but it’s not like you to run around revealing yourself to humans. What the hell’s going on with you?

  Don’t know.

  What do you mean, you don’t know? Connor stopped himself then. Took a deep breath, then another. Sat down in the straw, shoving the great wolf over a little to make room. Let me try that again, James. It scared the living hell out of me to find out that a human has not only seen you, but gotten close enough to touch you. You’re usually so careful that even the Pack can’t find you unless you want them to. I’m lucky to be able to find you—you’re like smoke. I was thinking about trying it, th
ough, because I wanted to make sure you’re okay.

  The creature unexpectedly laid its massive head on Connor’s leg and gave a very human-like sigh. I don’t know what the hell’s going on. The wolf knows her, remembers her from somewhere, but I don’t. There’s this strange connection. The wolf knew when Jillian came to town. It couldn’t know, but it did. It knew when she was here in the clinic, and it knew the moment she set foot in the forest.

  Connor sat very still, his hand frozen in the thick white ruff. James was talking to him. Not in spare and stilted words but really talking, like . . . like a human being, like James. It brought a tidal wave of emotion rolling up into his throat, but he swallowed it back hard, blinked away the moisture that sprang to his eyes. He tried to focus on what his brother was saying, but it was damn hard. The words didn’t quite make sense either. The wolf? What wolf?

  The wolf, my wolf, has a goddamn mind of its own. I know how crazy that sounds but I swear it’s acting on its own.

  “Your wolf—” Connor was stunned, forgetting all about mind speech. For a Changeling, wolf and human were simply different facets of the same being, the same personality. But James had been a wolf for over three decades. Had that skewed some internal balance, maybe made the animal side stronger than the human? “I guess your wolf side is used to protecting you, doing things for you. But taking over and making decisions for you?” He suppressed a shiver. It was downright creepy to discuss the lupine persona as if it was a separate entity. “The wolf is still you, right? Deep down, it has to be.”

  I’m not certain anymore. Everything changed when Jillian showed up. The wolf is obsessed with her.

  “I don’t like the sound of that. First you tell me you’re not in control of your wolf side, and then you tell me it’s zeroed in on my new vet. And you still didn’t explain how she got your hair all over her. Tell me your alter ego didn’t attack her or some damn thing.”