Derik's Bane Page 6

  “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.

  12

  “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?”

  “No,” he sulked.

  “Take a left at the light.”

  He did, and Monterey Bay General loomed before them. Sara stared at the brick building. It was completely perfect that they should show up here first. MB General had been her home forever. She’d learned there, worked there, fallen in love there, worked there, got dumped there, slept there, worked there, been forged there, worked there, found out she was an orphan there, grown up there.

  Found a father there.

  Well, at least Derik hadn’t tried to kill her. Again.

  “I forgot,” she said abruptly. “What’s your last name?”

  “Gardner.”

  “Oh.” That sounded almost . . . normal. Safe and normal. “Okay. So, I guess you already know my name.”

  “Yup.”

  “Of course,” she muttered. Stupid! He’d only told her the whole silly story, and more than once. Maybe she couldn’t retain the facts because she couldn’t swallow them. Frankly, she still wasn’t sure if she was buying into this whole “you’re doomed to destroy the world” thing, but at the very least, it was more interesting than hanging out in her mechanic’s garage.

  “You okay?” he asked. “You look like you’re about to jump out of the car.” He parked. “Which you totally shouldn’t do. I mean, you guys are mega-fragile. I don’t know how you walk around in those breakable bodies of yours.”

  “You kind of get in the habit of it, if you’re born in one of those bodies.”

  “Poor thing.” He shook his head.

  “Never mind.”

  “OKAY,” SHE SAID NERVOUSLY. “WE’RE GONNA GO find Dr. Cummings. He’s kind of like my mentor. He and my mom were good friends, and he took care of me after she—after she died. He knew a lot of stuff about my family that he would never talk about, and he—he’s always been good in a crisis.” More like completely unruffled, al
l the time. And hadn’t he recovered awfully quickly from the morning attack? He’d been more annoyed than scared . . . not a typical reaction. Except from him. But it was enough to make her wonder. “Anyway, we’ll find him and see what he has to say, and maybe figure out where to go from there. Okay? Is that okay?”

  “You’re the killer sorceress,” he said easily. “I guess we’ll go wherever you say.”

  “Knock that off, or no Milk Bones for you tonight.”

  He groaned, which caused several female heads to swivel in their direction. Derik was slightly larger than life . . . hell, he was slightly larger than his T-shirt, which bulged and rippled in interesting directions. He was by far the largest man in the hospital lobby. Possibly in the hospital. Or the city. “Don’t start with the dog jokes, okay?”

  “That depends on you,” she said smugly. “Now come on. Dr. Cummings is probably in his office.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Like an angry Colonel Sanders.”

  Derik snorted. “Does he have white hair and a white beard? And does he eat tons of Corn Nuts?”

  She stared at him and almost didn’t get into the elevator. Sheer momentum carried her to his side. “Have you been following me?”

  He looked at her curiously. “That’s gonna make you mad? That’s worse than trying to kill you?”

  “People have tried that before. I’m almost used to it. But I fucking hate being followed,” she snapped. “It’s sneaky and dishonest and nasty.”

  “Take it easy!” He threw his hands in the air. “Seriously, Sara, don’t get mad, okay? Just caaalm down. I wasn’t following you. I can smell this Dr. Cummings guy on you, that’s all.”

  “That’s all?” She stabbed the button for the fifth floor. Derik’s slight panic was sort of amusing. It was nice to have the upper hand with someone so good-looking. And she knew, she just knew, he was one of Those Guys. Every woman in the lobby had been staring at him, and he hadn’t even noticed. One of Those Guys never had a clue how great-looking they were. It was annoying. No, it was nice. No, it was annoying.

  “He must have hugged you or grabbed you or something. There’s a couple of white hairs on your left shoulder. I mean, you got a nose like mine, you don’t have to follow anybody. So mellow out, okay?”

  “Dr. Cummings knocked me down in the lobby,” she admitted. “He was kind of pissed.”

  Derik frowned. “At you?”

  “No, about the killers making us late for grand rounds.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh. Yeah, we better go talk to this guy. Shit, maybe we can recruit him.”

  “I’m sure,” she said dryly, walking the Gauntlet—what everyone called the fifth floor physicians’ offices—while Derik fell into step beside her, “that he’d be thrilled.”

  She stopped outside Cummings’s office and raised a hand to knock.

  “That door says Dr. Michaels,” Derik pointed out.

  “Mmm. It’s one of the many ways Dr. Cummings tries to ensure interns don’t bug him.”

  She rapped twice.

  “Go away, or I’ll have you fired!”

  “That’s another one,” she explained, and opened the door.

  “Oh, wonderful, it’s Dr. Nurse Gunn. Or is it Nurse Gunn, Doctor? Don’t let the door crush your tiny head on the way out.”

  “This man here,” Sara said, indicating Derik, who was openly fascinated by Dr. Cummings’s fuzzy eyebrows, “tells me I’m Morgan Le Fay.”

  Dr. Cummings grunted and started pawing through the pile of last year’s Lancet.

  “And that he was sent to kill me so I wouldn’t destroy the world.”

  Dr. Cummings found the issue he wanted and settled back in his chair. He grunted again, an invitation for Sara to keep speaking.

  “And I was wondering,” she continued, feeling foolish, “what you might have to say about that.”

  “I’m surprised the boy’s still alive,” Dr. Cummings said, not looking up from the magazine. “And disappointed, I might add. I don’t have anything to say beyond that, Your Highness.”

  She blinked. Thought that over. Started to speak. Changed her mind. Changed her mind again. Said: “Your Highness?”

  “Well. You are the sister of a king. A centuries-dead king, but there you go.”

  “Oh, dude,” Derik said, and flopped down into the nearest chair. “You’re in major trouble, Cummings.”

  “You keep your hands to yourself, werewolf.”

  Sara’s mouth fell open. Derik nearly fell out of the chair. “Dude! How’d you know? You are so not Pack.”

  “Do I look like I like my steak served tartare?” Cummings snapped. “It’s all over you. Predators walk, stand, move, and run quite a bit differently from the rest of us. If you want to fool Homo sapiens, I’d advise not walking around sizing everyone up like you’re wondering how they’d taste. And as for you, Your Highness,” he said, swiveling toward Sara, “what are you doing with this—this riffraff? Fooled by his over-the-top handsomeness, I’ve no doubt. Strongly consider killing him, dear. Werewolves are nothing but trouble, and they do not make good husbands.”

  “That’s not true!” Derik said hotly.

  “Where’s your father, lycanthrope?” Dr. Cummings asked with deceptive courtesy.

  “He’s . . . um . . . look, let’s stay on-topic, shall we? And don’t call me that. Cough up what you know, chum. Right now.” He turned to Sara, who was desperately trying to follow the conversation. “But let’s get back to this for a sec—we do too make good husbands. You know—once we find the right girl.”

  Dr. Cummings made a sound. It was not a sound of encouragement.

  “See, most of the guys I know really want a mate—a wife, I mean—and kids. They really do. But there aren’t very many of us, and there’s tons and tons of you guys, so lots of times they don’t really think it through before they settle down, and, well, humans are different from Pack, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about—”

  “Derik.” She was exasperated—who cared?—and amused at his distress. “Can we stay focused on this whole Your Highness thing? And you!” Dr. Cummings flinched as she shook a finger at him. “Start talking. Start with, ‘I moved to Monterey Bay and knew your mother before you were born,’ and end with, ‘and then you and a werewolf came to my office.’ Start now.”

  “Yeah!” Derik added.

  “Don’t raise your voice to me, pup.” Cummings looked at Sara. “I moved to Monterey Bay because by my art I knew Morgan Le Fay was to be born there in seventy-two hours. I found you at this hospital and befriended your mother. I explained to your mother who you were, but she wouldn’t believe me, and forbade me to tell you.

  I kept you safe these many years and looked after you after your mother died. Now Arthur’s Chosen is trying to kill you. It has nothing to do with saving the world. They just don’t like you. Then you and a werewolf came to my office.” He picked up his magazine again.

  “Oh, dude.” Derik rubbed his forehead. “You are so asking for a heart attack or for your lungs to pop or your eyeballs to explode or something. I mean, I don’t even know her and that whole story pissed me right off.”

  “My mother?” Sara coughed and tried again. “My mother knew this?”

  “No. You weren’t listening, Dr. Gunn, a trait I’ve discussed with you before.”

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “Want me to pull his lungs out for you?” Derik asked brightly.

  “Try it, lycanthrope.”

  “I told you not to call me that.”

  “You guys, cut it out!” she snapped. “Finish what you were saying, Doctor.”

  He sniffed. “Well. As earlier, I said your mother refused to believe the truth. And she did. She willfully would not let herself believe. She went to her grave thinking you were like every other kid. She was, in fact, determined you were like every other kid. No matter what she saw. No matter what you did.” Dr. Cummings paused. “A nice
woman,” he said at last, “but not terribly bright.”

  “Do not talk about Sara’s dam like that,” Derik growled.

  “It’s a free country, whelp, and do I look like I’m worried about irritating someone who licks his testicles during a full moon?”

  Derik’s eyes bulged, and Sara choked back a laugh. She knew at once that the big blond stud was not used to humans in their fifties dishing out shit.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, holding her hands up. “Let’s stay focused.”

  “I do not lick my—”

  “So, Dr. Cummings, why you? Why have you been sticking so close?”

  “To protect you from the occasional moron who wants to kill you because of who you are.” He glanced meaningfully at Derik, whose hands were clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing. “Or, rather, who you were.”

  “And those guys this morning?”

  “I told you. Arthur’s Chosen.”

  A long silence and, when it appeared Dr. Cummings had nothing more to say, Sara said, exasperated, “And who are they?”

  “Buncha losers, probably,” Derik muttered. “Out to get you just because they can.”

  “And your purpose in our fair town was what, exactly?” Dr. Cummings asked sharply. “I’m sure I can guess. Your alpha gave you your marching orders, and off you went, without a question or a murmur. Typical Pack behavior.”

  “He did not! I mean, I decided to come on my own. Well, um, and what the hell do you know about it, Cummings?”

  Dr. Cummings shrugged, and began rooting around for a pack of cigarettes. Smoking was, of course, forbidden in the hospital. Only Dr. Cummings dared to try. “I spent some time—years—in the company of a lady lycanthrope. She’d been banished from your Pack for some trivial reason, and was lonely.”

  “Where is she now?” Sara asked, interested in spite of herself. She’d never seen Dr. Cummings in the company of anyone but her mother. In fact, there were rumors that he was gay.

  “A new Pack leader came to power, forgave her for her unbelievably minor transgression, and off she went, back to the Cape to live happily catching rabbits with her teeth.”

  “Who was it?” Derik asked. “I probably know her family.”