Page 7 of Phoenix Fall


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Plus, there was the little matter of a naked-ish dead man lying on the path.

I looked down at my tee shirt—saturated in blood from when he’d clawed my arms. None of that could be explained now that they were miraculously healed.

Why was I so worried about that? Surely, I was the victim here? But my heart thundered, and my mind spun. I yanked the tee shirt off and pulled my hoodie away from my waist, then dunked the sleeves in the lake to rinse out a few blood drops before I put it on. Zippered up, no one would know I was missing a tee shirt.

Then I balled the offending item up around a rock and threw it as far into the water as I could.

Watched it sink, and pulled out my phone.

2

Anna

I am certain that the officers of the Ontario Provincial Police were unaccustomed to conducting interviews in vet clinic waiting rooms, but all things considered, this guy wasn’t doing a bad job of it.

I had been somewhat insistent on the issue—to the extent that I skirted a hysteria totally out of my usual realm of emotional response. He’d debated for a moment, his dark gaze calm and assessing, before loading Trix and me into his car and escorting us to the clinic.

It had taken the on-call vet twenty minutes to arrive. While I contemplated which of the three possible vets I hoped would attend, the officer had made good use of the time, running me through the events with his cool, detached, and ultimately reassuring manner.

It helped me regain a modicum of decorum. Which was useful, because I was lying through my teeth.

As my brain picked its way through what wouldn’t land me in a straightjacket, I pulled the elastic from my hair and re-secured all the stray bits back in place. As usual, the curls above each ear were particularly stubborn.

I’d just accomplished my feeble attempt at normalcy when a sporty truck pulled into the lot, and my dream date descended from it. The veterinarian was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with a chiseled jaw and thick hair. He sent me a heart-stopping smile before his critical gaze landed on Trix.

“So”—even his professionalwhat’s all this aboutvoice was dreamy—“someone threw her into a tree?”

We hadn’t exchanged much information on the phone, other than I wanted her checked over.

“Yes. I was attacked, and she defended me,” I said. “I just want to be sure she’s okay.”

I watched his smile fade, to be replaced by horror, and then anger. And I noticed the first glimmer of non-canine concern in his expression as he glanced from the officer to me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. But I’m worried about her.”

I saw him assemble the brownie points in my favor, and he nodded. “I’ll check her over.” His attention had already refocused on Trix.

I sighed. So much for any silver lining to this particular cloud.

We eventually transferred to the waiting room while the vet carted an entirely delighted—and not seemingly injured in the slightest—Trix into the back room for x-rays and an experienced hands-on assessment.

I envied her. The way I felt, I could use some of that attention. But the vet’s lack of interest was cosmic. During neither of my previous two associations had I managed to score more than a raised eyebrow.

I assumed he was taken—or I lacked the correct appendages. Maybe both.

The less-than-attractive but efficient officer watched them go, then transferred his calculating gaze back to me. His eyes dropped to the sleeves of my hoodie. Could he see the bloodstains? Or was he merely wondering why they were damp?

His gaze rose back to mine, and he took me through it all over again.

I swallowed and complied. Out for a run. Sat by lake. Attacked by naked-ish man in a cape.

Nothing about glowing eyes, claws on fingers, or the fact I’d lifted a guy who’d easily had eighty pounds and eight inches on me, before I’d killed him.

Why had he targeted me? I remembered Trix’s obsession with shadows. Could it have been now-dead dude that freaked her out? But he couldn’t have possibly kept up with us through the run. Not while lurking in bushes and backyards.

Those questions flitted through my brain as I provided the deeply edited version ofeventswhile attempting to sound open and honest. The furrow in his brow indicated I wasn’t entirely successful.

When I finished, he asked, “Do you usually run alone in the middle of the night?”