Blood Trail - By Tanya Huff Page 0,5

found the air available in the hallway inadequate.

He's had over four hundred and fifty years to practice that smile, she reminded herself. Breathe.

"We have to be very careful," he continued, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders. "I don't want to hurt you."

It sounded so much like dialogue out of a bad soap opera that Vicki grinned. "Just so long as you remember I haven't got a couple of hundred years to spare," she told him, digging for her apartment keys, "I'll try not to rush you."

That had been almost four months ago, the first time they'd gone out after she'd been released from the hospital. And they still hadn't. Vicki had tried to be patient but there were times, and with him sitting so close this was one of them, when she wanted to kick his feet out from under him and beat him to the floor. With an effort, she brought her attention back to the business at hand.

As everyone appeared to be waiting for her to speak, she arranged her face into her best "the police officer is your friend" expression and turned to Rose. "What is it you need me to help you with?"

Again, Rose glanced at Henry. Although Vicki couldn't see the vampire's response it seemed to reassure the younger woman for she took a deep breath, brushed her hair back off her face with trembling fingers, and said, "In the last month two members of our family have been shot." She had to stop and swallow grief before she could continue. "We need your help, Ms. Nelson, to find the killer."

Murder. Well, that was definitely a little more serious than Vicki had been expecting. And a double murder at that. She pushed her glasses up her nose and let sympathy soften her voice as she asked, "Have the local police not turned up any leads?"

"They don't exactly know."

"What 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