Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,12
certainly wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had wolves go rogue in the reservation.”
“But?” There obviously was one there.
“But if it was a rogue, we would have smelled him. Or, at least, seen his tracks on the ground.”
“There are ways and means of covering both scent and tracks, though.”
“True. You ready to go?”
I nodded and carefully rose. The minute my feet touched the ground, sharp pain hit, and a hiss escaped. Aiden made a low sound in the back of his throat, then swept me up into his arms.
“Aiden, you can’t carry me all the way back to your truck.”
“Watch me.”
“Damn it, I’m too heavy—”
“Rubbish.”
“But—”
“Shut up, woman, and enjoy the ride.”
A laugh escaped. “I can think of more fitting situations for a comment like that.”
“So can I.” A smile flirted with his lips, but just as quickly faded. “Unfortunately, said situations probably won’t be happening tonight.”
“No.” I rested my head against his chest. With his arms holding me so securely and his heart beating so steadily against my ear, I felt unbelievably safe. I always would be with him, no matter what happened between us. “Are rogue werewolves much of a problem? I remember seeing an article once in a South Australian newspaper that mentioned a wolf rampaging through the Barossa Valley, but that was years ago.”
“It doesn’t happen often, which is just as well given the damage a rogue can do to the human population.”
And to werewolves, if Patrick was the victim of such an attack. “Why does it happen at all, then?”
He didn’t answer immediately, concentrating instead on traversing a tricky bit of slope. By the time we reached the other side and were on even ground again, his breathing was heavier.
“Sometimes it’s drugs or alcohol,” he said. “While our metabolic rate generally means we process both faster than a human and therefore shouldn’t be affected by them, there are always outliers.”
Because everyone’s metabolic rate was different, even when it came to werewolves. “And the other times?”
“Faulty genetics, though it’s more a theory than confirmed fact, as no study has ever been undertaken of the phenomena.”
He stepped carefully over a fallen tree and continued up the old roo track. No wonder my feet were all cut and bruised—the track was a stone-filled, debris-littered mess. It was a damn wonder I didn’t break something.
“In general,” he continued, “it’s thought that in some wolves, there’s a fault in the DNA adaption that allows us to heal wounds as we switch from one shape to another. Somehow, at some point, that fault is flicked from inactive to active, and instead of repairing the body, it begins to attack it. This inevitably leads to madness.”
“And is possibly the basis for all the werewolf legends?”
“Yes. The changes that make them mad also force them into a half-human, half-wolf hybrid with almost superhuman strength.”
I shivered at the thought. “Do you think we do have one?”
“Until Ciara does the autopsy, we won’t know for sure. But I hope not.”
So did I. While I might have wanted an end to supernatural nasties, a homegrown mad half wolf definitely didn’t sound as if it’d be much of an improvement.
“What else could it have been, though?”
He briefly glanced down at me, something I felt more than saw. “You tell me. You’re the one with the supernatural radar.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “I think the radar’s currently offline. I certainly didn’t feel anything that makes me suspect we’ve another demon or occult beastie on the reservation.”
He grunted. “Let’s just hope it remains that way.”
We finally reached the camping area. Aiden placed me down, then opened the truck’s door and helped me into the cabin. The drive home was a quiet one. I suspected his mind was on the grim news he’d soon have to deliver, and I was just too damn tired to muster any attempt at conversation.
It took us just on half an hour to reach Argyle. His house lay at the far end of a six-unit complex built close to the sandy shoreline of the vast Argyle Lake. It was a two-story, cedar-clad building with a wall of glass that overlooked the water. Most of the big trees that surrounded it were deciduous, which meant it was protected from the worst of the summer heat but the winter light could shine through.
Aiden stopped in front, then climbed out and ran over to the door to open it. Then he came back for me, picking me up and carrying me inside despite my protests.