Chapter One

I was getting ready for bed when the sound of an engine caught my attention. Most people wouldn't have noticed if a car drove by their house, but I lived as close to the middle of nowhere as you could get in St. Louis. I didn't have a neighbor for miles. A good asset when you're constantly worried that some monster from the deep is going to come for your life. No, really, it happened. In my last apartment, my neighbors had almost been killed because someone had put a contract on my head. I'd chosen a more secluded home to lower the risk of collateral damage, along with more privacy and space. I would have gotten an earful from the little old lady who lived down the hall if I'd tried to keep everyone who lived with me now in that apartment. So a car outside meant that whoever it was had come to my house specifically.

Micah was already fast asleep on his side of the bed, long brown hair tussled this way and that, all but hiding his face. After a night of raising zombies, I should have just crawled in beside him and gone to sleep, but there was something holding me back. I had to know about that car. So I brushed his curls back and gave him a shake much rougher than was polite, but only because he needed it. I was a light sleeper--- a result of too much coffee and time playing with the monsters ---but Micah always slept like a log and it took forever to get him out of bed before he wanted to. It was his one failing and made him seem more real as a person.

Being soulmates would have been unbearable if we agreed on everything. Having someone willing to back you up at any moment was one thing; having someone believe that every word you said was the only truth was frightening. It'd started out that way with us, but I just started to get Micah out of the habit of worshipping the ground I walked on. At the beginning it'd been nice talking to someone who wasn't always looking for a fight, but then Bianca had come home from her visit with Eddie in California and it was just too much. A person can only take so much blind admiration before they went insane. Isn't that the old saying?

"What's wrong?" Micah yawned and he slowly began pulling himself from his dreams. He was giving me the half-lidded, sleepy kitty look that said he really wanted nothing more than to sleep, so could I please restrain my ardeur for a few more hours. Well, he'd be glad that it wasn't about that tonight.

"Someone's outside."

With another drawn out yawn, Micah pulled himself out of bed and head cocked to the right as he used his preternatural hearing to check it the situation in ways I just couldn't yet. Being a wereleopard had its perks, just like every other breed of lycanthropy, and all of them were better than the ones I got from being connected to the local Ulfric and Master of the City, which were pretty high in the preternatural meter. Not nearly good enough to make me want to join the furry club, mind you. We'd had a scare a few months back dealing with me being infected with lycanthropy when one of the wereleopards I took care of accidentally scratched me. Looking back, it was really ridiculous. Even with only Jean-Claude's third mark, I was immune to blood diseases, which included lycanthropy. All the weirdness had actually been from rising vampire powers that had come from the marriage of the marks I'd done with my triveruate in an attempt to bring things back to a normal level in my life. Should have known better. Just the confusion of the moment, I guess.

"Should I even bother to ask if you're going to check it out?"

No, he shouldn't have. In only my flannel pajamas, I got out of bed and grabbed the Browning from its holster on the headboard. I checked to make sure I had bullets and started down the stairs. I could hear Micah's footsteps behind me, which only emphasized the quietness of the night. We made it to the living room without a hitch and I momentarily wondered if maybe I was being a little too paranoid. Then tires squealed to a halt right outside.

I looked out the front door window, my right hand gripping my gun. A red corvette with its brights on was parked in the middle of the street, close enough that I could see what was happening inside. Two people were sitting in the front seat and, by their body language and facial expressions, it was a safe guess to say that they were in the middle of an argument. When the woman stepped out of the car and slammed the door, I realized it was Bianca.  Her three-inch heels clicked loudly on the asphalt as she approached the driveway, angry footsteps.  The man behind the wheel jumped out of the corvette clumsily and called out to her. He was tall, solid in the chest and shoulders, like an All-American quarterback in his prime. His eyes were as dark as his deep brown hair, deeply set, which went well with his sharp feature and thin hips. Despite his good looks, his overall appearance suggested that he was mean and hard. 

"Bee," he called after her. "Bee, I'm sorry. Come back." 

"Go away, George!" she said in reply. "You're not my favorite person right now."

Ah, one of my favorite Bianca-isms.

As familiar as the phrase was, there was something off about the way she said it. Her speech sounded muffled, like she had something covering her mouth to disguise her voice. She was walking strangely, relying too much on her left leg to support her.  From my place at the window I couldn't see details, which made me even more nervous. 

"Look, I'll take you wherever the hell you want to go---just get back in the car."

"No!"

The man moved to intercept her at a frightening speed. My hand gripped my gun instinctively. There were only two types of people that moved that fast ---vampires and lycanthropes. I knew all of the vampires Jean-Claude let into the city, which meant that he was most likely a lycanthrope. While Bianca didn't date the monsters as a rule, I wasn't surprised that one had gotten under her radar. For all the power she had, Bianca was blind---mentally and psychically---when it came to the men she dated. For some reason, Bianca always attracted the same kind of men: seemingly polite and charming gentlemen with bad tempers and a tendency to treat her like a possession.  Her latest fling had caused a lot of trouble for us in San Francisco; he'd been a lycanthrope, too.

Just remembering Ripley maybe me nervous. Until Micah's hand clamped over my arm, I hadn't even noticed that I'd been moving forward.

"Not until she asks for help," Micah whispered in my ear.

It was hard to hold myself back, but Micah was right. I couldn't just burst in on them until I knew for sure that tall, dark, and annoying was really dangerous. I heard Bianca say something in a low voice to which the man laughed in reply. His laughter made a shiver go up my spine and despite Micah's advice, I quietly opened the door and stepped onto the porch. I wasn't interfering just yet. I was merely letting Bianca know that she had some back up if she needed it. Her date didn't seem to notice me.

"I don't know why you're being such a b***h about it," George was saying. "I said I was sorry. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go, George," Bianca replied nervously. "Go away.  Please."  That last word had a desperate resonance in it that I had to respond to. But just as quickly as the man had moved to stop her from entering the house, he took a dangerous step towards her and wrapping his large hands around her small waist, he pulled her face to look at his.  She yelped in surprise and pain as he passionately kissed her.  She struggled, of course, and I could see that there was blood pouring down her lip. He had bitten her tongue. That was it.

I made sure that the bullet merely grazed his ear. It was a dangerous move--- one jerk in the wrong direction and I could have hit Bianca ---but it paid off. George was instantly afraid as he finally registered my presence. I gave him the coldest look I had in me and cocked the hammer back for good measure.

"George, get the f*** away from the lady."

Bianca looked up at me and I swear her eyes were just gleaming with relief. Seeing that desperate, needy look on her face and blood spilling out of her mouth, I wanted nothing more than to kill George right them and there. Bianca was on my list of people I'd kill to protect and I took care of my people anyway I had to. My next shot got George in the foot when he didn't release Bianca. He screamed and let go of her like she'd burned him. Two pieces of paper drifted to the ground.

"You psycho b***h! You f***ing shot me!"

"I'll do worse if you don't leave. Now." I made sure Bianca was out of the way before I aimed for the next thing George was going to lose. "Unless you want to kiss your knees goodbye," I said coldly.

George cursed colorfully and scrambled back to his car, moving like the wind despite his injured foot. Micah walked passed Bianca and me and lifted the papers the other man had dropped.

"Oh, George," Micah said pleasantly, waving what appeared to be two airplane tickets. "Don't forget your tickets."

Numerous insults were thrown at all three of us as George informed us that he'd cancel the tickets over the phone and get some more. I had to fight the urge to laugh as his tires squealed to get away from here. No wonder I didn't get too many new visitors. Oh well. The Georges of the world would just have to find somewhere else to play.

"Did you have to shoot him?" Micah asked as he looked at me from the corner of his cat-like eyes, meticulously tearing up the plane tickets like he was afraid that Bianca would attempt to tape them together unless he made sure they were completely destroyed. Good idea.

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"Well, in that case…."

I couldn't tell if he was serious, so I let it go. Turning to Bianca, I could tell that she was distraught and upset. I put an arm around her shoulders and led her into the house; she didn't even put up a fight.

I placed her on the couch and immediately went to the kitchen. While I knew that I shouldn't encourage the habit, Bianca was a sucker for comfort food and it was usually the thing that helped her get through some days. I dug up a Pop Tart package and popped it in the toaster while I poured her a glass of milk. Bianca stayed where she was silent for a full minute, not twitching a muscle. Micah was hovering over her, the need to say something clear on his face. He looked up at me to check if it was okay and I shrugged. Let him take a whack at fixing Bianca? Sure, why not.

"Where did you dig up that jerk?" Micah asked abruptly, his hands on his hips in a very parental way.

"He's in my anger management class," Bianca said matter-of-factly, turning away from Micah and more towards me in the other room. She simply then waved away my concerned look when I leaned over the cupboards to give it to her. "Don’t worry," she added, "today was his last day, he's leaving for Chicago tomorrow."

"You were planning on going with him, weren't you?" Micah asked, a knowing look on his face.

I kept out of it while he grilled Bianca. We'd played parents to the pard enough to know our roles when scolding a wayward member. Usually they were reversed with me playing the bad cop, but Bianca was more familiar and comfortable with me. I don't think she would have taken to good cop Micah.

"Just for a visit. I thought he was a nice guy," Bianca protested quietly, resting her head on the sofa's top and still not looking at him. "And he really seemed to like me…"

"And you liked him?" Micah asked. "Enough to what join his pack?"

"His pack? What are you talking about, George doesn't…" Her voice trailed off as she realized what he was referring to. Like a panicked deer, her head shot up instantly. "Oh god, oh sweet Jesus," she breathed, her eyes growing wide. Glancing at me, then Micah, and back again, she addressed us both with terror. "Oh god, he bit me.  He…he bit me!  What…what if I---"

"Calm down, Bianca. Micah's just trying to scare you straight." Although I wanted Bianca to learn her lesson, I felt compelled to ease the seriousness of the problem that Micah was presenting. We didn't need her going hysterical before we finished scolding her. "You can't catch lycanthropy from a were in human form."

"Speaking of human forms, what the hell happened to your face?" Micah inquired bluntly, hand reaching out to examine her closer.

It was strange that she didn't immediately pull away, especially when he gently moved her head so I could get a look. There were various bruises on her right cheek and all over her neck, almost like someone had put a strangle hold on her. Most of her nails were broken, classic sign of a struggle. If I didn't know better, I would have said that Bianca had been in another bar fight. Without Eddie around, she didn't get into many, but it wouldn't have been the first time.

Finally Bianca seemed to have gathered her courage and pulled away from Micah, wincing a little.

"I fell," Bianca said softly, her voice almost inaudible. "Down the stairs."

Micah and I exchanged a glance. Stairs. Ri-ight. And I was red-bottomed baboon.

"Nasty thing, stairs," was his calm reply.

"They can be, yes."

Getting up from the couch, Micah popped a few joints. "Well, I hope you'll be more careful in the future. You know, in terms of deciding which stairs to use and which ones to avoid."

"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Callahan but the last thing I need right now is someone to point out my… clumsiness." Bianca was more controlled than she had been seconds before, adopting her more formal cop-side. "Anita, you wouldn't happen to have any Icy Hot, would you?"

"Strangely enough, I do. Micah, could you get it?"

Giving me a questioning look, Micah left. He didn't like being so obviously dismissed, but I needed some alone time with Bianca. It'd been months since I'd seen Bianca and I wasn't exactly sure how she would react to being with me again. When she'd returned from her trip, Bianca had been stunned by Micah's presence. I'd told her about my situation with Jean-Claude and Richard, and even managed to put a rational spin on why Nathaniel had to live with me, but she'd been unable to compute Micah. She'd given me an ultimatum. Either Micah moved out, or she did.  However, she never gave me a chance to make the choice.  Her things were gone the next day.

I didn't know where she'd gone. A couple of the cops at the police station had mentioned her name in passing, which meant she was still alive. It was a good sign that she'd rejoined the force.  I'd been planning on locating her for a while now, but had hesitated because I didn't want to seem overbearing. Bianca had made her decision. Now that she'd gotten her sanity back, I had no right questioning her judgement. Or at least I'd so believed until George. While she'd gotten her mind back together, Bianca was still obviously wounded.

"So," I started, taking a seat on the couch. I offered her the finished Pop Tarts and she took one without looking at me. "You're taking anger management now?"

"The doctor who did my psych evaluation at the station believed it would benefit me, yes." She'd polished off the first treat and was headed for the second. I intercepted with the glass of milk. It didn't stop her rhythm.

"Wasn't it hard to rejoin the force without a personal record?"

"I'm not a police officer. I'm a private investigator, preternatural crimes."

"Really?"

Bianca placed the empty glass down and started on the Pop Tart I'd kept from her. "The papers to acquire a license were easy enough and I didn't need a background check. Just an ID."

I picked up the empty dishes and took them back to the kitchen. I placed them in the dishwasher and left them for Nathaniel to clean in the morning when he got back from Cherry and Zane's apartment. It'd been his night off from feeding my ardeur and the only way to make sure he got his rest was sending him away.

"Do you need a ride to your place?"

She hung her head with her hands clenched in front of her. "Actually, I was hoping you'd let me crash on your couch tonight."

"It's fine by me," Micah called from the other room. A tube of Icy Hot came flying at Bianca's head. She barely managed to catch it.  I'll be damned if he wasn't trying to hit her. And all this time I thought Bianca was the childish one of this feud.

"Since when did he become the patra familias?" she asked as she rubbed the cream on her aches.

"I'm going to bed, Bianca," I said, not deeming that comment with a response. "You can take Nathaniel's bed tonight; he's staying with some friends. There are extra pillows and blankets in the cupboard by the bathroom."

I didn't stick around to check if she went to the room. I wanted to get some sleep tonight. As I made my way the stairs, I could have sworn that I'd heard a quiet thank you in the dark.