2 Blood Trail Read Free Page B

do you mean by ‘don’t exactly know’?” Vicki could think of several things it might mean and none of them appealed to her.
    “Why don’t you show her, Rose,” Henry said quietly.
    Vicki swiveled around to look up at him, her peripheral vision too poor to allow her the luxury of glancing from the corner of her eye. His expression matched his tone. Whatever Rose had to show her was very important. More than slightly apprehensive, she turned around again.
    Rose, who had been waiting for her attention, slipped out of her sandals and rose to her feet. Storm, after giving the sandals a quick sniff, padded over to her side. In one quick movement she stripped off the sundress she was wearing, stood naked for a heartbeat, and then, where there had been a pale-haired young woman and a large russet dog there was a red-haired young man and a large white dog.
    The young man bore a strong resemblance to the young woman; they shared the same high cheekbones, the same large eyes, the same pointed chins. And the same lithe dancer’s body , Vicki noted after one quick glance at the obvious difference.
    “Werewolves,” she heard herself say aloud, amazed at her composure. Odds are good it’s Henry’s influence. This is what comes of hanging around with vampires. . . . I’ll get the bastard for this .
    The young man, completely undismayed by both her scrutiny and his nakedness, winked.
    Vicki, considerably nonplussed, especially when she remembered how she’d been treating the dog— No, wolf. No, wer. Oh hell. —earlier, felt herself flushing and glanced away for an instant. When she looked back, she found she’d missed the actual moment of transformation and Rose was tugging her dress back over her head. The young man—Storm?—was resignedly pulling on a pair of bright blue shorts that offered minimal coverage.
    Feeling her gaze on him, he looked up, smiled, and advanced with his hand held out. “Hi. I guess further introduction are in order. My name’s Peter.”
    “Uh, hi.” Apparently the names changed with the form. A little stunned, Vicki took the offered hand. It had the same pattern of heavy callus that Rose’s had. Made sense actually if they ran on four feet part of the time. “You’re, uh, Rose’s brother?”
    “We’re twins.” He grinned and it reminded Vicki so much of the expression the russet dog had worn that she found herself grinning in return. “She’s older; I’m better looking.”
    “You’re noisier,” Rose corrected, curling back up in the armchair. “Come and sit down.” With a martyred air, Peter did as he was told, throwing himself gracefully down into the same spot he’d occupied as Storm, his back pressed against his sister’s knees. “We’re sorry about the theatricality of all this, Ms. Nelson,” she continued, “but Henry suggested it was the best way to present it, that you . . .”
    She hesitated and Henry smoothly finished the sentence. “. . . that you weren’t a person who denied the evidence of your own eyes.”
    Vicki supposed he meant it as a compliment so she contented herself with a quiet snort and an only moderately sarcastic, “Well, you should know.”
    “You will help us, won’t you?” Peter leaned forward, and placed one hand lightly on Vicki’s knee. There was nothing sexual in the touch, and the expression accompanying it held only a combination of worry and hope.
    Werewolves. Vicki sighed. First vampires and demons, now werewolves. What next? She crossed her legs, dislodging Peter’s hand, and settled back into a more comfortable position; odds were good that this was going to be a long story. “Perhaps you’d better start at the beginning.”

Two
    “At the beginning,” Rose repeated, her tone turning the statement into a question. She sighed and pushed a shock of pale hair back off her face. “I guess it started when Silver got shot.”
    “Silver?” Vicki asked. She had a feeling that if she didn’t stay on top of this explanation it