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He swallowed hard, catching my hand and pulling it down. “She was suffering. There was nothing left to do.”
Glass smashed against the kitchen wall.
I cringed.
Caelan’s grip on my hand tightened. “I don't know what you did to get here, but I'm going to assume it was dumb. Get the hell back in the truck.”
“You wanted me to pour water on this fire,” I asserted.
“Told you, Marcy, there was no winning this one. It's over. Leave before you get hurt.” He pulled me toward the door. I wrenched free of his grasp. If I was a Were, I'd have exploded in anger.
“I’m not afraid to face the consequences of my actions or my decisions.”
August stood beside a framed picture of the doctor and her parents. He flicked it onto the ground with a finger.
“You shot her with silver,” he growled, advancing. “You left her keeled over on the side of the road like a fucking opossum!”
“Warned you not to call her a sheep, August.”
“She’s alive.”
Caelan's disappointment in my response was palpable. I pushed past him to confront his brother.
“I could tolerate your stinking human body for the duration of the case, I could.” Caelan's older brother ran his hands over his head and emerged with fistfuls of dark hair. “But interdepartmental violence cannot go unanswered.”
“Neither should violence against humans. Winona deserved worse than I gave her.”
August struck. Before I knew what hit me, I was flat on my back spitting blood. Caelan positioned himself between us, hand on his weapon as he braced the other against the strained buttons of his brother’s shirt.
“You okay, Marcy?” he called over his shoulder.
“Stay out of this!” I snapped, wiping my mouth. “You didn't help Rachel. You don't get to help me.”
Worry in his eyes, Caelan lifted his hand off his gun. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
I touched my mouth, tasted blood on my fingertips. It was then I noticed the thunk-thunk of pale flesh piling beside my outstretched feet. Skin sloughed off Sheriff La Motte's arm and out through the cuff of his sleeve, staining his shirt, dribbling down lengthening, hairy fingers.
chapter 22
CONSEQUENCES
August's face bulged and contorted, warping his countenance into twisted, peeling flesh. Steam slid through the cracks in his skin, masking the transition.
“Marcy, I do not recommend this." Caelan's voice was an anxious echo in my eardrums as I regained my footing. Winona's loaded semi-automatic took the place of my grandmother's weapon, but while my fingers itched to grab it, I stayed still.
“I’ll survive." August was vulnerable in the transition, but I wasn't taking the cheap shot, not when I aimed to show some figurative backbone.
“You might not."
Nonetheless, at my insistence Caelan stepped aside. His single, fluid movement acted as the flag to start the match.
The half-formed wolf lunged on human legs. I threw myself to one side. Claws hooked into my collarbone and wrenched me onto my back. My head hit the table. Dark fur and shredded fabric filled my vision. I pushed against it, but he batted my hand away, tearing his claws across my chest in the process. I kicked him hard in his rippling stomach. The pressure released. August knelt over me, panting, growling, ripping off his ear to reveal a new, furry one underneath before what was left of his fingers fused into massive paws. He rolled his shoulders backward, spine cracking. Skin dripped onto my waist as the wolf emerged.
I managed to get one leg free and kicked him in the balls. He grunted, jerked back.
Caelan smashed a lamp over his brother's head. The wolf yelped and fell sideways, bursting free of the last clinging bits of humanity.
