something different. Something Other. If I went to the hospital, it would come out how I was injured. If anyone recognized me, word might get back to the newshounds who now kept such close tabs on me. Either would be a disaster.
But going to the hospital to get tested or vaccinated would be worse. The thought of what it might do to me to get the news that I was beyond treatment right on the heels of what had just happened with Chaz was terrifying. I didn’t want to get the news that it was too late, that nothing could be done. I didn’t want to be like Ethan, falling apart in a parking lot where anyone could stumble upon me and discover my secret.
I didn’t want to be one of those statistics who disappeared.
Chapter 23
The cab stopped outside, bleating an impatient honk. I left a twenty on the table and gathered my things. The waitress waved her cigarette after me, smoke wafting from the cherry tip as she bid me good-bye.
The bags felt heavier, my reactions too slow. It took more effort than I cared to think about to drag my things out and approach the cab that would take me home. I’d have Sara pick me up in my car on the way into the office tomorrow instead of having the cab drop me off at her place where I’d left it. The thought of possibly running into her while I looked and felt like this was too much to bear. I needed to get my wits around a plan of action for the infection before I could handle talking to her or anyone else about it.
The cab driver got out of his car when he saw me struggling with the bags. It wasn’t until he slid his hand over mine, pulling the heavier suitcase out of my grip, that I looked up and took notice of him.
He was eyeing me speculatively, slicked back hair showing a bad dye job with a few whitish roots that left his features unmistakable. His rounded, stubbly jaw and thickly muscled arms matted with enough hair to do a bear proud gave me a start. He grinned at me, though the expression was tempered with some concern.
“Fancy seeing you again,” he said.
“You, too,” I said once I swallowed back my surprise. How did this guy always manage to find me when I was on the verge of a breakdown? “You have the most fortuitous timing of any cab driver I’ve ever met.”
He barked laughter at that, literally. The guy was a werewolf. A member of the Moonwalker pack, the largest one in New York, if not the whole country. They were “friendly rivals” of the Sunstrikers, and fiercely proud of themselves for being the ones responsible for making Others an accepted part of society. Mostly accepted, anyway.
“Economy being what it is, I can’t offer a free ride this time. But I will lend an ear. Looks like you could use it.”
His words dredged a smile from somewhere, and he returned my weak show of relief in kind before hefting up my suitcase and tossing it in the trunk. As I settled into the backseat, the scent of old fast food and musk swept over me. Familiar, but not as unpleasant as I remembered and expected. He pulled into traffic after I gave him the address and a few directions.
“So, you want to talk?” he asked.
I hesitated. My vision blurred with tears when my gaze settled on the sticker of the Moonwalker pack symbol plastered on the divider between the front and the backseats. If anyone would understand my most pressing problems, it would be my chauffeur-cum-therapist. Talking to this familiar stranger about what was wrong might very well lead to a solution to all of the problems whirring in my head. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would be able to offer the unbiased insights or tempered sympathy this man could. And there was no chance of him subconsciously shrinking away from me as I feared Sara or my parents might once I told them what had happened.
“I … I’m not sure if you can help me …” I trailed off, unable to say it aloud.
“Can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong, sweetheart. You reek of Were, though it’s not from my pack. Have something to do with that?”
I choked back the urge to sob, clenching my fists in my lap. He waited for me to get a grip on