Blind Rage - Chapter 15

Monday, July 28, 1997, 4:39 pm

Boerne, Texas

Jobe woke up in a hospital room. This annoyed him more than the throbbing pain in his head, and he thought, The sponge bath had better be worth the headache.

At the foot of the bed, Gavin leaned over the railing, his face drawn into a brooding expression. On the right side of the bed, Wagner stood clutching the bed rail. He stared at Jobe with a surly, glowering expression. But he said nothing until Jobe sat up.

Then he huffed in anger. Gavin raised his head, and relief spread across his face as fast as guilt did.

Behind him, George sat Indian-style on the floor, his ankles folded tightly against the backs of his thighs. On the tiles in front of him were rows of cards.

He was playing solitaire to pass the time until Wagner huffed.

George raised his head, and his concerned frown rose into a relieved smile. He got to his feet, ignoring his game and saying nothing before he left.

Wagner asked, “Do you have any—?”

“Before you bitch,” Jobe said as he pointed at Gavin. “Please, aim it the right way. I was just an innocent bystander this time.”

Wagner nodded. “Gavin explained what happened, and you’re off the hook.”

“Oh, good.” Jobe raised a hand to rub the side of his head. “I don’t think I could put up with more than a few seconds of shouting right now.”

“I’m upset, because I keep leaving the office to check up on the two of you.” Wagner let go of the side rail and folded his arms. “I’ve got a dozen cases that I should be reviewing instead of driving here, and it’s getting harder to justify leaving every time one of you ends up in the hospital.”

Jobe asked, “We both came in this time, didn’t we?”

It was a flippant remark, but Gavin answered him anyway. “No, I recovered right away. It’s lucky for you, since I had to carry you back into the city.”

Jobe groaned when he read Wagner’s thoughts. “Wait, it’s Monday? I’ve been out for three days?”

 “Yep, and you’d be sporting a new hole in your head if I hadn’t convinced the doctors to just put you in bed and wait,” Gavin said. “They were saying that you had to be operated on or you would die. Yesterday, when your condition was upgraded to stable, they had to admit that perhaps they were hasty in declaring your condition dire.”

Jobe sat up, closing his eyes when a wave of dizziness struck. “No, I think they might have been right on the dire part.”

“Nah, you just needed time to heal.” Gavin slapped his foot. “Come on, we should get moving again.”

“Yeah, give me another minute...or an hour.” Jobe looked up and frowned at Gavin’s disappointed expression. “Will you relax, furball? I might heal faster than a normal human, but I’m still way behind you for healing speed.”

Gavin nodded, trying to hide his frustration behind a fake smile. He moved away from the bed and pointed to the door. “I’ll just go get some more coffee.”

Jobe nodded, sighing when the door closed. “How many cups has he had?”

“He hasn’t stopped drinking since you came in.” Wagner glanced back at the door and shrugged. “Then again, he hasn’t slept either.”

“You were waiting up for me?” Jobe smiled. “I’m touched.”

“I didn’t lose a wink of sleep.” Wagner laughed and shook his head. “I just got here an hour ago. It’s your pack that’s been standing over you like forlorn pets.”

“Rosa and Rachel are here too?” Jobe asked.

“Rosa still is, yes. I think she’s in the cafeteria right now.”

“And Rachel?”

“I convinced her to leave after I got here.” Wagner smiled. “Whatever you’ve done, you have the complete loyalty of the pack.”

“Well, I do know how to grill a mean steak.” Jobe attempted to sit up again, ignoring the dizziness while he slipped his legs out from under the covers.

He was unsteady on his feet, and once he was upright, he noticed how everything in the room was too brightly lit.

“Where are my clothes?”

“In the cabinet above your bed,” Wagner said. He stepped back to lean on the wall while Jobe got dressed. “Did he get the drop on you?”

“No, he had the advantage of better training, and he was armed.” Jobe pulled his T-shirt down over his head and tucked it into his jeans. “He’s definitely werekin. Gavin knew when Dave pulled his truck up into the driveway, and he knew when Dave was pulling out to make a run for it. I didn’t sense a damn thing, so Dave’s been cursed long enough for the magic to block his thoughts too.”

“What else do we know about him?”

“Gavin’s tagged his scent as a werecat, but we won’t know what kind until he transforms.”

Wagner nodded, looking back to the door when it opened and George and Rosa walked in.

Rosa held onto George’s arm until she was in the room, and then, following Jobe’s scent, she went straight to him to close her arms around his chest. She squeezed tightly, evoking a pained wheeze from Jobe.

“You scared me,” she said.

Jobe took a tiny breath and groaned, “Sorry, won’t happen again.”

He groaned when she tensed her arms again.

She tried to smile, but her voice was a frightened whisper. “Make sure it doesn’t.”

She was trying to joke, and he understood that. But she wouldn’t let go of him, and she was trembling.

“I’ll do my best not to, darlin’.” Jobe raised a hand to rub her back.

He had to resist the urge to laugh when a loud purr rumbled through Rosa’s chest. The sensation of her body vibrating against his was odd, but also soothing. He patted her back, trying to convince her to let go.

Her purr rose in volume and she squeezed him again, though not so hard as the previous two times.

Wagner was unsettled by the sound, and he went to the window to look outside instead of staring. “Do you want to look for Dave or the orc first?”

Jobe considered both options, needing some time before he could decide. “It may land me back in the hospital, but we’ll have to look for Dave. The orc can’t curse anyone else, and we need to get Dave settled in before the next full moon.”

***

Monday, 6:52 pm

George knocked on Lucy’s front door again. He was so exhausted that he didn’t experience his usual cringing reaction when she opened the door and glared at him.

She snapped, “Where the hell have you been?”

Waving his hand in a calming gesture, he rested it on her shoulder to push her back. He stepped around Lucy as he said, “I was at the hospital. We had a wounded packmate who got sent to ICU, and we’ve stayed up with him for the last three days.”

“You had what?”

George turned around to blink at Lucy. “I said one of my coworkers is in intensive care at the hospital.” He sniffed and turned to look around. “Where’s Max?”

“In the backyard with Pixie,” Lucy said.

She was going to ask George what he’d really said, but he spun on his heel and walked back through the front hallway, across the kitchen, and opened the sliding glass door to the back patio.

Max and Pixie both leapt at George as soon as he stepped out onto the wooden deck, and he rolled onto his back, chuckling as the dogs went into spastic fits of licking and whining excitement.

“Oh, I missed you too!” he said. His voice had a fake, growling quality to it. “Ooh, somebody’s been eating Milk-Bones. So...minty, and yet, so bleh!”

Lucy covered her mouth, trying not to smile. “George, what did you mean? You said a packmate got injured. Do you mean one of the deputies?”

George pushed Pixie away, who was still trying to wash his face. “No, I just...I haven’t slept in a while, so I had a brain fart and used the wrong word. What I meant to say was coworker, and I was referring to my new coworkers in the FBI.”

“So, what? You work for the feds now?”

“Yeah, part time, anyway.” George got up from the patio and dusted off the back of his jeans. “I just wanted to spend some time with Max before I drive back out to Rosa’s.”

His stomach growled, and Lucy smiled. “Would you like something to eat? I can broil you a steak in three minutes.”

George froze, lost in a moment of indecision. His body ached for sleep, but his stomach gurgled with hunger pangs at the mention of a steak.

He asked, “Have you got any beer?”

Lucy nodded, and George’s brain shut off the warning buzzer that had been blinking with a steady EX-WIFE TRAP alert.

He walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge to pull out a beer.

As always, the top shelf was stacked with trays of meat. Lucy had meat with every meal. She had steak and eggs for breakfast, and steak sandwiches for lunch. She ate steak for dinner, and as a midnight snack, she gnawed raw meat.

George had found it to be charming when he first met her. How could any respectable redneck male not like a woman who insisted on steak for most every meal? In some ways, he still considered her diet to be one of her few good points.

Lucy stepped around him to grab a T-bone steak. She held it out for his inspection, crossing the kitchen once he’d nodded his approval.

George uncapped the beer and tossed the cap in the trash under the sink. He leaned against the counter, draining a third of the bottle before he returned his attention to Lucy.

He frowned, looking around the kitchen again. “Okay, everything looks the same, but something feels different.”

Lucy put the steak on the broiler and closed the oven before she asked, “What do you mean?”

George shook his head. “I dunno. Maybe it’s just me not having enough sleep, but something is missing.”

Lucy nodded and went to the pantry. She opened it and took out a can of beans. “Do you want these or peas with your steak?”

“Pintos are fine.” George watched her take out a pan and move back to the stove.

 He took a shorter sip from his beer, his mouth twisting around in constant movement while he tried to pin down what was missing.

All at once, he had it. Snapping his fingers, George said, “No fight.”

Lucy asked, “Hmmm?”

She’d heard him just fine, and she’d already recognized what quality was missing from the exchange.

George was too sleepy to care about being subtle, and the beer went from his empty stomach straight to his brain.

Alcohol and sleep deprivation shut down his tact circuits, and he said, “We didn’t have a fight. Come to think of it, you haven’t asked a loaded question yet.”

Lucy turned away from the stove to offer him an annoyed smirk. “If you really miss it that much, do these pants make my ass look fat?”

George snorted his beer. He leaned over to cough, and then he laughed between sputtering breaths. Wiping foam from his nose and his mouth, he looked up, and Lucy was holding out a paper towel.

Her mouth was turned in a lopsided smirk, and while her eyebrows bunched in a look of irritation, the sentiment didn’t show in her eyes.

They didn’t speak again while she prepared his meal. The meat started sizzling, and then George couldn’t think of anything except, Food.

Lucy didn’t say anything because she was happy to have him home, for once, and because she believed that he was enjoying the silence.

Once the meal was on the table, George’s brain shoved every other thought aside. He tried to pace himself, but the meat and beans vanished just as fast as his beer did. He sat back in his seat and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a belch.

Snickering, Lucy asked, “Why don’t you go sit in the living room for a few minutes? I can get you another beer, if you want.”

George started to shake his head, but the thought of attempting the drive back to Rosa’s wasn’t computing. It made sense to rest a few minutes.

He nodded, groaning as he got to his feet. While Lucy started gathering the dishes, he went to the sliding glass door.

He whistled to Max and Pixie and patted his leg. “Who wants to come sit with me for a spell?”

Both dogs ran in to be with him, and they clung to the sides of his legs, wagging their tails with reckless abandon. They both barked “Missed you!” over and over.

Patting their heads, he shouted, “Missed you! Quiet!”

Lucy giggled when the dogs settled down. She turned away from the table to gape with baffled amusement. “Can you speak dog now?”

“What?”

“You just barked, George.”

“Um...yeah.” George yawned. “I thought they might like to know something in their own language.” He decided to head to the couch before he said anything else stupid.

This was sound advice, but he stopped at the kitchen door to watch Lucy clear the table.

He was asking for trouble, but he couldn’t quell the question that had nagged him before dinner. “Hey, Lucy?”

“Hmmm?” She raised her head to smile at him.

“What changed here?”

Lucy stared without answering. Her smile melted, but she wasn’t angry.

Her face tensed in a conflicted expression before she shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe you did, or maybe I did.”

She shrugged and continued moving to the sink with the dishes. “I’ll bring the beer in just a second, okay?”

George nodded and shuffled into the living room. He dropped on the couch, and once the dogs curled up on either side of him, he passed out.

***

Lucy didn’t bother to open the bottle, though she carried it to the living room, just in case.

George was already asleep, his face slack in a peaceful look.

Moving to set the bottle on the coffee table, Lucy knelt down to pull off George’s boots. She settled them under the coffee table and picked up his legs to swing them onto the couch.

She went to the linen closet in the hallway and took down a sheet and a spare pillow. By the time she got back, George was snoring. Pixie curled herself in the crook behind his knees, and Max lay next to his broad chest. The dogs were so intent on staying next to their master that she had to tuck the sheet around George rather than drape it over him.

She started to take the beer back to the kitchen, but she stopped at the living room door. Turning around, she leaned against the frame to watch George sleep.

He had changed. There was no denying it. The evidence lay in his improved size, and in his altered scent. But if that proof hadn’t been good enough before, there was a change in his attitude. He was bolder and more willing to assert himself.

Her memory flashed back to him pushing his way around her to get into the house. Even though she’d snapped at him, he didn’t flinch like he usually would.

No, he pushed her away, walked into his house, and said, I was at the hospital. We had a wounded packmate who got sent to ICU, and we stayed up with him.

Lucy hadn’t believed for an instant that he meant coworker. She was beginning to suspect that he wasn’t really working for the FBI either, and the thought worried her more every time she came back to the word packmate.

Lucy went to the kitchen and picked up the phone to dial the sheriff’s office.

“Kendall County Sheriff’s office, this is Edna. How can I help you?”

“Edna, is Bert in his office?”

“Yes he is. Hold on.”

Seconds later, the line clicked, and the sheriff said, “This is Bert.”

“Hey, it’s Lucy Martinez.”

“Oh, hey there, Lucy. How’s Pixie doing?”

“Pixie’s great. I’ve got Max here for now, so she’s happy.”

“That’s good,” Bert said. “Can I help you with something, Lucy?”

“Maybe you can. Do you know if George has been working with anybody from the FBI?”

There was a short delay before Bert said, “Before I answer that, I’m gonna have to ask who told you?”

“George?” Lucy said uncertainly.

“Oh, well then.” Bert laughed. “Yeah, he’s been trying to track some kind of wild animal out near Lake Boerne. It killed an elderly couple and a farmer last week, but since then, its mostly been sticking to cattle.”

Lucy nodded to herself. “Bert...” She hesitated, then asked, “Does George seem different to you in any way?”

“Well...now that you mention it, yeah. He’s looking...younger?”

Lucy nodded. “What else?”

“He’s bigger, I guess...lately, he’s seemed a lot more confident too.”

Lucy let go of a soft laugh. “So it’s not just me noticing it.”

“It would be hard to miss. I just thought that he got a new membership at the gym.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Lucy said. “Thanks a lot, Bert. You’ve put my mind at ease.”

“I’m glad I could help. Bye, Lucy.”

Lucy hung up the phone and leaned on the counter.

George wound up in the hospital from an animal attack. Rosa had also been attacked. Had anything changed about her?

Initially, she wanted to say no. After all, the poor woman had fallen to pieces in her first visit to the grocery store in five years. However, the fact that she’d made the trip at all was a sign that she was feeling more confident. So yes, something had changed.

Lucy considered the idea more and decided that she needed more information.

She walked to her bedroom and leaned over her desk to turned on the computer. Dropping into her seat, she waited for the operating system to boot up, and then she connected the modem to her ISP.

When she opened a browser, her mind blanked.

Lucy closed her eyes, thinking, He told me the agent’s name before...it was something with a G... She opened her eyes as the name flashed in her memory, and she started a search for Gavin Lebowitz.

She found stories in newspapers from both Texas and Arizona, but Gavin was always mentioned in passing, and most of the content instead focused on a girl named Wendy Stoffel. In all of the articles, she could find only one picture of Gavin Lebowitz. It came from the online edition of the Odessa American, and the uncredited photo was taken outside of a shopping mall.

She changed to a different search engine, and she changed her search to: Gavin Lebowitz +animal attack.

She found a more recent article from the San Antonio Express-News. Under a larger photo of Gavin was the story of how he had been attacked by an animal that he said looked like a bear.

George was attacked, and George had changed. Rosa had, and Gavin probably had as well.

Lucy frowned, staring at Gavin’s photo as she got up. She took her purse from the desk and walked out of her room, grabbing her car keys from the hook next to the front door. She glanced back at George, but decided to let him sleep.

***

Monday, 7:26 pm

Gavin went to the door and opened it, smiling at the woman who stood on Rosa’s front porch. “Hi, can I help you?”

“I’m Lucy Martinez, George’s ex-wife.” She smiled and stepped back off the stairs to get out of Gavin’s reach.

The scent of bear coming off of him was making her very nervous.

He was also much more muscular than he’d been in either of his old photos, confirming her suspicions. “I just wanted to let you know that George crashed on my couch about an hour ago, so he might be reporting late for work.”

“Then you should be calling the sheriff’s office,” Gavin said. He’s not working the night shift with us anymore.”

“Who is it?” Jobe called from the kitchen.

“George’s ex-wife.”

Jobe walked slowly down the corridor, trying not to upset the delicate balance of the bowling ball resting in his head. He got to the door, and the berserker started demanding to take over.

Jobe resisted him and tried to smile. “Hello, ma’am.”

She offered him a short wave. “Hi. I’m just coming out to let you know that George is at my house for now.”

Jobe nodded, stepping down the stairs with a forced slow stride. “I guess sleep deprivation finally got to him.”

Lucy nodded. “Yes, and you know what? He said the strangest thing to me when he got to the house. He said one of his packmates got sick.”

Lucy watched Jobe’s face, and she realized that he had to be very good at hiding his emotions. The twitch in his lower left eyelid was so slight that she almost missed it.

Her smile dropped, and she said, “So, how about we quit fucking around, and you tell me what my husband has gotten himself into?”

Jobe’s smile also fell, and he let the berserker ask a question. “We might, but first, you could try to explain why I can’t read your thoughts.”

Lucy took another step back. The scent coming off of Jobe was “sorta-human,” and the dropping pitch of his voice set off warning claxons in her mind that she was dealing with something far more dangerous than herself.

She narrowed her eyes and dropped into a stance, her fingers curling stiffly while she extended her claws. Her pupils dilated until her irises were thin rings of bright silver around wide black pits.

Baring her teeth, she extended her fangs and hissed, “What the hell are you?”

Jobe forced the berserker to the back of his mind. His mouth twisted in a half smirk, and he said, “Lady, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

Gavin growled as he leapt off the step. He sailed over Jobe and Lucy, dropping into the grass behind her to block her escape to her car. His growl alerted Rachel and Rosa, who both raced out of the house to stand on either side of Jobe.

Lucy glanced back at Gavin, her black eyes moving back to Jobe before she leaned her head over. “Did you make them?”

Jobe shook his head. “Nope, it wasn’t me. I just take care of them now that they’re cursed.”

Lucy frowned, and her pupils contracted back to a normal size. “Cursed with what?”

“They’re werekin,” Jobe said. “That doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”

Lucy shook her head. “I’m not familiar with the term, but I think I can guess what you mean. Is this some form of lycanthropy?”

“I’m not sure if that’s the right term for it or not,” Jobe said. “We didn’t get much information from the elf before he split.”

Lucy relaxed herself out of her stance while she retracted her claws and her fangs. The pointed talons flattened back into smoother crescent shapes, and the nail bed shifted from dark red back to a soft pink color.

She said, “I know what an elf is, but I’ve never seen one.”

Jobe held up his hand, extending his index finger. “I’ve seen exactly one, and unfortunately, the elf brought a werebear to Earth with him. The werebear is what attacked George and the rest of this pack.”

Lucy thought, They’re probably hoping to bring it into the pack too.

Her curiosity was piqued, and she had to ask, “What are you?”

Jobe debated with himself before he said, “I’m a berserker.”

Lucy frowned, but her expression was confused. “I do know that term, and I know how you’re supposed to react to me. So...” She glanced around, and her expression was even more confused when she looked at Jobe again. “Why am I not dead already?”

Jobe shrugged. “I’ve been spending time in close proximity to victims of the werekin curse. I was forced to do it at first, for Gavin’s sake, but as the pack has grown, I’ve grown acclimated to the presence of...otherworldly evils.”

Lucy snorted. “George thinks of me as evil, but I’ve never done anything bad, besides be a bitch.”

“So what are you?” Jobe asked.

Lucy shook her head. “I haven’t the foggiest notion. I know the rest of my family is like me, but none of us knows what we are. My mother used to call us the forgotten, but I don’t think that’s a species.”

Jobe relaxed, waving an invitation for Lucy to come inside before he turned around. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did she die?”

“Plane crash,” Lucy said.

She fell into step behind Rosa and Rachel as they all walked into the house, and she had to suppress the urge to look back at Gavin. “Half of my folks took a vacation in Hawaii, and they were taking a smaller craft from Honolulu to Hilo when the plane went down.” Lucy sighed. “I was supposed to go with them, but I had a car accident.” She laughed and added, “That was how I ran into George, literally.”

Jobe laughed, settling himself on the floor in the living room. “Gee, that’s...lucky?”

“Yep,” Lucy said. She looked at the chairs and decided to sit on the floor instead, since it seemed everyone else was. “It was on a back road, and it was my fault, because I was late and speeding to get to San Antonio on time. George’s truck passed through the intersection and I barely had time to let my foot off the gas before I hit him.”

Rosa asked, “Didn’t he watch over you in the hospital?”

“Um, not exactly. George wanted to call for an ambulance, but I convinced him to call one of my nieces instead. I told him that I didn’t trust doctors, and that I preferred to just heal at home. George spent every day after work at my house. It sounds romantic, but I had to ruin it most of the time.”

Jobe smiled and nodded. “I thought he was joking when he said you had fangs.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, “Oh, honestly! You bite somebody just once and they take it personally for the rest of their life.”

Jobe cringed. “And suddenly, the cause for your divorce becomes clear.”