Wild Fire
Page 87

“Mary!” the doctor called. “I need you. This is more important than your soap opera.”
She came in, a small woman with graying hair and laughing eyes. “I don’t watch soap operas, you old coot, and you know it.” She smacked him with a rolled- up newspaper as she went past him straight to the sink to wash her hands and don gloves.
“Get out, Conner. But don’t go too far. You’re next and then the young lady,” the doctor ordered gruffly. “And don’t pace like you used to. Sit down before you fall down. There’s hot coffee in the kitchen.”
Mary glanced over her shoulder. “Fresh bread under the tea towel.” She bent over Jeremiah.
Conner watched the two working so smoothly together, barely speaking, handing instruments back and forth with the doctor grunting occasionally and shaking his head.
Isabeau tangled her fingers with his and looked up into his face. She was exhausted and worried. He tightened his hand around hers and pulled her with him out of the room. Elijah followed reluctantly.
“He’s good?” he asked.
Conner nodded. “All the leopards came to him. He might be retired by now, but he knows his stuff. He won’t let him die if he can possibly save him. His name is Abel Winters. Dr. Abel Winters. He was in our village for a while, but left before my mother and I did. Of course he was very young and probably had gone off to school. I didn’t really remember him, when I was that young, but my mother did. She knew everyone in our village.”
He looked around until he found a towel to soak so he could try to clean some of the blood off before he sat down. “When we moved to the cabin, my mother would take me to him for the normal broken bones. I shifted fairly early and used to try leaping from the canopy and trying to shift on my way down. I broke a fair amount of bones that way.”
Elijah laughed. “I’ll bet you did.”
The tension eased a little. Isabeau took the towel from Conner and he bent over the sink, holding on to the edge as she tried to wipe the worst of the blood away.
“Damn, that hurts like hell. I’m going to find a shower.”
She wanted to go with him, but stayed in the kitchen with Elijah, feeling awkward and out of place.
“You did well, Isabeau,” Elijah offered, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“I was scared.” She didn’t look at him, but out the window. “Really scared.”
“We all were. I knew I was running a gauntlet, trying to get to Jeremiah, and I expected the sniper to shoot me at any moment. I imagine you expected the same thing.”
She shook her head. “No, I expected him to shoot Conner. He had the same problem I did. He didn’t want to hit his friend. I didn’t want to hit Conner.” She wiped back the tendrils of hair spilling around her face.
“What does ‘marking’ mean, Elijah?”
He frowned. “In what context?”
She avoided his gaze again, staring uneasily at the floor. “Like the marks I accidentally put on Conner’s face. What does that mean in the leopard world?”
He shrugged. “He’s your mate, so it’s no big deal. You put your mark on him. More than skin deep. You have a certain chemical in your claws. You can transfer that chemical into a man’s body. You did that when you raked Conner. You didn’t know what you were doing, but your cat did. She made certain he would want her. Usually a female won’t do that unless she’s in the throes of the Han Vol Dan. I won’t say it never happens, as evidence by your cat marking Conner, but that’s probably the biggest danger during the emergence.”
“So what happens if she marks someone not her mate?”
Elijah straightened slowly, the silence stretching painfully until she was forced to meet his eyes. “Did that happen, Isabeau?”
“Did what happen?” Conner asked, striding into the room, toweling his hair dry. His jeans rode low on his hips, the deep lacerations, bite marks and torn flesh very evident.
She bit her lip hard. She had a very bad feeling that Elijah was going to reveal something she didn’t want to know.
“Isabeau wants to know what would happen if she marked someone other than her mate.”
There was that silence again, stretching until her nerves were raw.
“Isabeau?” Conner asked. “Did that happen?”
She avoided the question. “I found a dead body in the garden. I think Philip Sobre is a serial killer.” To keep from looking at either of them, she went to the other side of the table and lifted the tea towel from the freshly baked loaf of bread.
Silence greeted her statement. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned around. Conner looked stunned. “You found what?”
She sliced the bread and put it on a plate. It was warm and smelled like heaven. “A body. Alberto told me about designing the garden and planting it. Apparently he’s a gardener, a very good one. He invited me to look around. He waited for me by the pond.”
“Get to the body, Isabeau,” Elijah said.
“And the marking another man,” Conner encouraged.
She took a dish of butter from Elijah and applied it to two slices, pushing the plates across to them before pouring coffee. “Does anyone take cream?”
Conner put the coffee cup down and went around the table to wrap an arm around her waist. “Stop what you’re doing and sit down. You need to tell us what happened.”
Isabeau let him pull out a chair and put her in it. The two men sat down with her. She shook her head. “I don’t know if Alberto knew the body was there and wanted me to find it. Maybe he wanted me to call the police on Sobre.”