Toy Wolf

Chapter 27: roadtrip

         Timmons was the one to bring me to Dr. Terry and the unending drawing of blood. I sat patiently on the bench as he prepped the vials.

"What else do you do here?" I inquired when the silence in the room became a little unnerving.

"My usual job is patching up the hunters as your kind tries to rip them apart," he answered. "I say your kind, but you are a bit of a freak. Most werewolves are a bit, you know..."

"Violent?" I suggested.

"Bigger was what I was going to say," Dr. Terry admitted. "You weigh a hundred fifty pounds dripping wet. Like I said, you remind me of my grandson. Did you play soccer in high school? You look like you'd be good."

I shook my head.

Dr. Terry sighed. "Pity. I feel that if we just set up football leagues for werewolves, we would have less violent crime. This is just my own hypothesis."

"I think that would work for some," I offered, thinking of my own pack. "But others enjoy hunting humans."

"You didn't?" he questioned, pulling the tourniquet tight over my arm.

"Hunting should be about the chase. I think I liked hunting elk best. Quail if I was by myself."

I shook my head and held out my arm for him to find the vein. I noticed that the fridge was very empty. Grant needed more doses than I would have thought, but perhaps, he was becoming immune to the effects.

"A connoisseur of hunting, I see," he chortled. "Ever hunt bobcat?"

I shook my head. "They seemed like a bad idea. I think I have once."

"They are a bad idea," Dr. Terry agreed. "They are fast and vicious if surprised. We hadn't meant to hunt bobcat; we just happened on one. Last time I hunt at dusk in the brush, that's for certain. It is deer stands for me."

Timmons poked his head in.

"What is taking so long?" he inquired.

"We're having a conversation," Dr. Terry replied. "You should try it sometime. I hear it relaxes people."

Timmons scowled at the doctor and left the room again. Dr. Terry snorted.

"Hunters," he said. "They mean well. They want the world to be safe. But it's not like you and vampires are responsible for all the crime that happens, right?"

"I don't think so," I agreed, thinking that the doctor's words mirrored Stefa's from the night before. "And I can say that I haven't been responsible for very much crime at all. I broke into a chicken coop once. But I helped fix it."

"You hardened criminal," Dr. Terry laughed.

He took a pint of blood and handed me a cup of water before I was released back into the house. Timmons was no longer in the hallway and so I wandered the building, listening for where Stefa or the other hunters had gone. I could hear some stern talking edging toward shouting, and so followed the sound until I was over looking the entryway. Grant was standing with his father and they both had their arms folded over their chests, frowning fiercely at the other.

"And I'm telling you you're not ready," Mr. Danube said flatly. "Since I'm in charge, you don't get to protest, Grant. You're not stable and Dr. Terry's reports don't make it sound like you are going to be stable any time soon."

"Keeping me cooped up in this place isn't going to make me better, sir," Grant shot back. "The side effects are minimal. It's the only job I could be back here in a day. Please do not keep me here."

Mr. Danube happened to glance up and spy me watching on the argument.

"Take Conor," he suggested.

Grant startled and looked up at me with fear, which then morphed into anger. He turned back to Mr. Danube.

"Take the werewolf?" he questioned.

"You were the one who wanted to bring him here for more than his blood," Mr. Danube said. "I can't risk any other hunters with you right now. So either take Conor or don't go. Your choice."

He walked away from a perplexed Grant who glanced up at me and grimaced. It was clear he did not want to be anywhere near me, something I didn't blame him for. At the same time, he would have to make peace with that or stay locked up in this house with Stefa and I. Slowly, he climbed the stairs towards me, approaching me with extreme reluctance.

"You must really want to leave," I noted. "I can't imagine what that's like."

Anger flashed across his face but he didn't say anything.

"I am crawling out of my own skin," he said. "I need to do something. Are you going to ruin this for me, or can we pretend to work together for thirty-six hours?"

"We can work together," I said. "On one condition. I want to know if I'm being tracked."

Grant closed his eyes and didn't answer for a moment.

"Yes," he said. "Dr. Bryce chipped you at the facility. You and Stefa."

"Thank you," I replied. "So what are we doing?"

"There's some weird chatter about werewolves a couple of towns over that we need to check out," he said. "Of course we're hoping it's just some rumors, there hasn't been any missing persons or murders, but it's a little weird. And it's close. Normally, we wouldn't even send someone but I... I feel claustrophobic in this house."

"Claustrophobic?" I questioned.

"Um, fear of small spaces. Cramped. Trapped, I don't know how else to describe it."

"That's the werewolf blood," I told him. "That's how I feel all the time."

He shuddered. "We'll leave in a couple hours then. I just have to sign out a vehicle and get my gear back. Meet here at three?"

I nodded. He headed down the stairs in a hurry, eager to be away from me.

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This is will quite the (short) road trip. The idea of Conor making a mix CD is hilarious to me. Thanks for reading!