I didn't have the breath to ask him what he smelled or heard. But there was no cabin in sight. Nothing that looked remotely like a vacation place for rich sex fiends. It looked like the kind of place someone would dump a body, though.
He was hurrying, but perhaps we were already too late. I didn't see crows or circling vultures...but that didn't mean anything. They might not have found— My throat seized up and I couldn't have said anything even if I'd had the breath for it.
We crested another hill and kept going. The field was incredibly hilly, with a brutal up- and downgrade, several copses of brush with a tree or two, and a stream down in the middle between two hills.
He was far ahead of me now, at the stream while I was still struggling downhill.
"Oh. Wally," said Lexie in a heartbroken voice, stumbling to a halt in the middle of the stream. He fell to his knees in the cold water and reached for something. He picked it up.
I stumbled on, hurrying, gasping for breath, and came up to him, and saw what he held. A mud-matted bundle of red fur. A small, broken-looking fox. There was blood. There was blood, and he lay very still.
"NO," I gasped in a choked voice. No, this was not happening!
I dropped to my knees in the sucking mud and trickling water beside Lexie, and reached out a trembling hand to touch him, the man and fox I loved. "No, Wallace. No! Come back to me, baby."
He opened one eye. The other was caked shut. He looked at me: eye glazed, exhausted, clearly in pain, perhaps not knowing where he was. The tip of his tongue slid out and he very gently touched my fingers. Then he closed his eye again, too weary to keep it open.
"He's alive. He's alive—"
"He needs help," said Lexie in a strangled voice, struggling to his feet, trying not to jar the broken fox in his arms. There were tears in his eyes. "Like, a hospital or something. Somebody who treats shifters."
"I'll radio the captain. He can get a helicopter...careful with him! He's hurt!"
The little whimper that had escaped Wallace's blood-caked muzzle made me snap in an agony of fear for him.
"I will. Shh. I've got you, honey. Come on. We'll get you some help." His voice was all a-tremble. "Thereisa doctor who will treat him, r-right?"
I was already on the radio.
We had to hurry. But at last, at last, there was a hint of hope.
#
"To be clear, I am not in any way, shape, or form blaming you for your partner's injuries. But the fact remains that Mr. Avery was put in a dangerous undercover situation without adequate backup. This situation was untenable: shifters being abused, possible police collusion, and inadequate backup."
Robert Knoll, the man before me, stood about five-six, but seemed taller. He stood straight and spoke crisply, and there was a relentless exactness about him that made him intimidating. He worked for the shifters and partners organization, and had finally arrived to help us find Wallace. Now that Wallace was found, he was looking into the causes of the situation.
Wallace lay unconscious in a hospital bed, receiving the best medical care available. He'd been treated as a fox; now he was being treated as a man.
I was in the captain's office being lectured, rather than at Wallace's side. To be fair, I'd spend four hours next to his bed before being sent away. I'd showered, eaten, been unable to sleep, and showed up here when the captain called me. The man from the organization wanted to speak to us.
"It cannot happen again. In the future, all such cases that involve danger to civilian shifters are to be referred to our organization. There have been several expansions recently, and we have — and will use — the resources necessary to investigate such situations, e.g., trafficking, abuses, etc., as we learn of them. Coming in from the outside, with adequate backup and no possible leaks, we have a much better chance of success than a lone shifter who 'feels kind of responsible' for fixing such a large problem. As long as we know about the situation, we can do a far better job."
He turned to the captain. "And in future, you will not put Avery on any case in which his life could be endangered. These are not disposables, Captain. We value and treat our members with respect, and having a shifter as a consultant — even if he was previously simply an employee of this precinct — is a privilege, not a right. He was not trained as a soldier or spy. He is a consultant. And we will take him away from you if there is again another such incident of egregious danger. He was not trained for such things. It is unacceptable."
I squirmed inwardly. It was one thing to be told I'd been right, that he shouldn't have gone undercover, but not now, not like this. I would much rather go back to Wallace and be by his side.
I wasn't afraid of Wallace being "taken away," since no power on earth could keep him away if he wanted to stay with me. Losing his job...well...I might not be too upset about that, if he couldn't be put in danger anymore. But all that was for him to decide, not me. As long as he stayed safe, that is. I would fight him about that...but nothing else.
My poor fox.He was recovering, though. I reminded myself what the doctors had said: a promising recovery.Promising...
The captain gave a short, tight nod. His mouth was very hard. "If that's all?" he asked crisply.
"In future, you will report these situations to the agency. Consultants will be kept safe or they won't work at all. Is that clear?"
"Yes," growled the captain.
"Then yes, that is all. I will make my recommendations to the agency. We will be checking to see that you follow these simple safety guidelines in the future." He turned to go, then looked back. "These rules arenotarbitrary. Some of us have lost our partners because such precautions were not followed."
