Derik's Bane
Page 8"Very funny, Morgan."
"Don't call me that," she said automatically, but with no real heat.
"Look, at least consider the possibility. I mean, why would I come here? I live in Massachusetts, for Christ's sake, but I come all the way across the country just to wreckyour house?"
"That's the theory I was going with, yes," she admitted.
"Pretty shaky," he told her. "And today not only am I here, but another group of killers? Would-be killers, I mean? And what happened to them? How come you're not dead? You avoided meand them?"
"We haven't established that you're not one of them," she pointed out. "And they ran into some bad luck."
"Yeah, I'll bet. I'll bet that happens a lot around you."
"Well..." Her brow knitted, and she looked severely cute as she pondered. Her blue eyes narrowed and her forehead wrinkled. "I've always been lucky . . . but I don't think that proves anything."
"Since we're going to talk for a while—which I'm totally fine with, so don't sweat it—do you have an apple, or maybe you could fix me a PB&J, or something?"
"Again with the food! You've got a lot of nerve, anybody ever tell you that?"
"Pretty much every day, back home. So, do you?"
"I don't believe this," she muttered but, praise God, she turned to the counter, plucked an apple out of the bowl, grabbed a knife out of the rack, and rapidly cut the fruit into bite-sized pieces.
She stomped over to him and stuffed three chunks into his mouth.
"Fgggs," he said.
"You're welcome. So somebody sent you here to kill me because I'm the reincarnation of Morgan Le Fay, that's what you're telling me." He didn't answer because it wasn't an actual question. "And other people are also out to get me, because of this." He nodded, still chewing. "So I shouldn't call the cops, I should leave."
"With me," he said, swallowing.
"Oh, that'srich."
"I figure there's more to this than meets the eye, y'know? So we should take off and see if we can see what's what."
She was cutting up another apple in rapid, angry motions, and he eyed the knife a little nervously; if she got pissed enough to plant it in his eye, he'd probably never howl at the moon again. He was a fast healer, but there was some brain damage that couldn't be fixed, no matter how close the full moon was.
"See what's what," she repeated. "Yeah, sure. Let's get right on that." She jammed a few more pieces into his mouth and, although eating cut-up apples had never seemed particularly erotic to him before, the smell of her and the touch of her skin on his lips was starting to, um, cause him a little problem. Okay, a big problem.
He shifted in the chair and wished he could cross his legs. "Look, you get kind of weirded out whenever I suggest that there's maybe more to you than meets the eye," he said around a mouthful of apple. "So why don't you tell me? What happened before today? How come you're so lucky?"
"I don'tknow. I just am. I always have been. My mom used to call me her lucky break."
"She's dead."
"Oh. Sorry. Mine, too."
"Gosh, we've got all kinds of things in common," she said, rolling her eyes and shoving another chunk of apple between his lips.
"Meant to be, I guess," he said, chomping.
"Okay, so, I won the lottery. A couple of times," she said grudgingly.
"Youwhat?" He knew she wasn't lying, but it was still surprising. "More than once?"
"I tend to get... windfalls . .. whenever I'm short of money. And once I needed a few thousand to pay for the last quarter of school, and I won the lottery, and it was exactly the amount I needed. And I got a refund one year when I needed some extra money to—but everybody gets tax refunds."
"Yeah, but I've never even met one person who won the lottery, never mind won it twice."
"Four times," she muttered.
"Oh, for fuck's sake! And you're giving me shit like I'm crazy?"
"It doesn't mean anything," she insisted.
"Okay, Morgan—"
"Quit that!"
"—maybe you can explain how, at the exact moment you needed to get me out of the way, I get a freakin'brain aneurysm, how about that?"
"A happy coincidence?" she guessed.
"For Christ's sake."
"Actually," she said, clearing her throat, "there was a serial rapist in this area a couple years ago. And, um, he got in somehow while I was at school, but when I came home I found him dead in my kitchen."
"Brutally stabbed?"
"No, um, the autopsy showed he had a congenital heart defect, a minor one that shouldn't have given him any trouble, but for some reason, while he was waiting here to—to—well, he had an M.I. and died.""What's an M.I.?"
"Myocardial infarction. Heart attack," she said impatiently.
"Well, you really kind of are." She poked another piece of apple in his mouth. "Let the record show I still think you're nuts. Also, once when I overslept and missed the bus, it crashed, and half the people aboard were killed."
"Jesus Christ!" It was all he could say. This was worse—and cooler—than he had ever dreamed. "That's it, that's your magic. You're phenomenally fucking lucky.All the time."
"There's no such thing as magic." But that species of hellish doubt was on her face again. "Everybody's lucky."
"Sara, for God's sake. Listen to yourself."
"The team at the hospital..."
"Don't tell me, let me guess. They were like the Three Stooges—or however many of them there were. Knocking heads, falling down, having heart attacks on the spot... and you walked away without a scratch."
"That might be true ..."
"We should go clubbing some night."
She laughed unwillingly. "Sure we should. I'm sure the police will let you out in no time."
"Oh, come on! After all this, you're still calling the cops on me? We should get out of here!"
"Youdid try to kill me," she reminded him— like he needed it! He'd never live it down. Derik Gardner, badass werewolf, totally unable to kill a nurse. A nurse with a doctorate, but still. "And I've only got your word that you're not going to try again."
"Well, my word's good," he grumped. Of course, she couldn'tknow that. Not like another Pack member would know it. It made everything harder. Which was kind of cool. Yet aggravating. "And like I said, there's more to this than what we can smell. I think—"
"Than what we cansmell}'"
"Never mind. Look, let's do some digging, okay?"
"Okay!" she said with fake enthusiasm. "Do you want to be Nancy Drew or a Hardy Boy?"
He ignored the sarcasm . .. he'd had years of practice with Moira. "Let's find out what exactly you're supposed to do. I mean, you don't want to destroy the world, right?"
"This is the most surreal conversation I've ever had," she commented. "And no. Duh."
"So how come anybody who can see the future—I assume that's how the bad guys knew to come after you—says you're gonna do just that? Huh? Don't you think that's weird? Huh?"
"That's not the only thing I think is weird."
"Then hold on to your hat, sunshine."
She eyed him warily. "What? I'm not really up to more surreal revelations ..."
"Damn it! What did I justsay?"
11
"I'm a werewolf," the gorgeous nut job said again. He shifted in the chair and winced. She suspected he was sore ... certainly there was plenty of dried blood on his forehead and speckled all over his shirt. She felt sorry for him and stomped on the emotion. "Soon to be a hairless one, but there you go."
"Whine much? Try getting a bikini wax."
"I'll pass."
"Look, one thing at a time, all right?" Sara tried not to show how rattled she was. She suspected she was fighting a losing battle. As if her day hadn't been upsetting enough, she was actually turned on by hand-feeding Hunka Hunka Burning Looney. She could feel the stubble on his chin when she popped more apple slices into his mouth, could feel the warmth of his face, smell the apple sweetness of his breath, could(I could do anything to him, anything at all.)
feel his ... his ...
(He couldn't stop me. He's tied up. I could sit on his lap and do...do anything...)
Aw, nuts. His lips were moving. More nonsense about(the true you)
Morgan Le Fay, no doubt.
"What?" she asked.
"I said,one of my Pack members told me what you were going to do, and my—my boss, I guess you'd call him, he sent me here to take care of you. And not in a good way, F.Y.I."
"Sounds like a real prince," she muttered, trying not to stare at his mouth.
Derik shrugged. "More like a king, actually, and he's okay. He's my best friend, so I had to leave before I killed him."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. I mean, I couldn't imagine anything worse than killing a friend."
"That's pretty bad," she admitted, wondering when she'd checked her sanity at the door. This was definitely the most surreal conversation she'd had in ... ever. "It's probably just as well you left town to kill me instead."
"To try to kill you," he corrected. Then he grinned, showing many teeth. It was so startling—a white flash, and cripes, those chompers lookedsharp —that she nearly took a step back. "And I like you, too, by the way," he added, which made no sense, but who cared? "You are, in case nobody's told you, extremely cute. Are you a natural redhead? You are, aren't you?" ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">