Jeremy knelt beside the dead pair of rats.
“They smell diseased,” I said. “What is it?”
“Nothing I recognize. You said there’s-”
Claws scrabbled against the closed door. Jeremy pointed. I nodded. He waved for us to step back, then eased the door open a crack and leaned into it for a better look.
At the base, tiny teeth and claws flashed in the opening. Beside me, Clay rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, tensed, ready to spring if the rodent somehow managed to squeeze through the half-inch crack. After a moment, Jeremy pulled the door shut.
He turned to us. “I’m going to get a better look in there.”
Jeremy motioned Clay to the door, to act as rat-punter, then gestured for Antonio and Nick to stand guard on either side of the hallway, in case Rose was still in the building. I backed up Jeremy’s nose…from the hall.
Clay swung open the door and drop-kicked the first rat that lunged at him. The next two rats fell back, hissing and chattering. From where I was, I caught a glimpse inside-a small room with a blanket and a few boxes. They took two steps into the room, then Jeremy tapped Clay’s shoulder, telling him to retreat. A last kick and squeal, and Clay went to close the door, but Jeremy stopped him.
“What’s that?” he said, pointing at the floor. “Here, hold them off and I’ll grab-”
Clay darted forward and snatched up whatever was there.
“Or you could do it for me…” Jeremy said as Clay backed out and slammed the door.
“What is it?” I asked.
Clay held up what looked like a half-chewed cocktail sausage. Then the smell hit me.
“A finger,” I said with a small shudder. “A chewed finger. Isn’t that-” I fought my revulsion and took a deeper breath. “It’s Rose’s.”
“Think the rats got her?” Nick said.
When we all turned to look at him, he said, “What? She smells like she’s rotting, right? And rats are scavengers.”
Jeremy shook his head. “I think the rotting is what caused the finger loss, not the rats.”
“So she’s…falling apart?” I said.
“The extremities would be the first to go.”
“Beyond the ‘ewww’ factor, this might be something we could use. If she falls apart, does that count as ‘dead’?”
“With our luck, it won’t,” Clay said. “Maybe we should save this. In case we have to find all the pieces and reassemble them before we can close the portal.”
“I don’t think we want to be found carrying concealed body parts,” Jeremy said. “And as soon as we get near a bathroom, I want you to wash your hands-well.”
I walked beside Jeremy as we headed down the hall. “Could you tell what those rats have?”
“Not by smell, but there were several diseases commonly carried by rats a hundred years ago that you don’t see often now.”
“You think that’s what it is then? Like the cholera and Rose’s syphilis. Something else I released from the portal.”
“It isn’t your fault, Elena. There’s little the Victorian era can throw at us today that we can’t cure.”
“So far…” I said. “But what if the next thing-”
“If we can get this portal closed, there won’t be a ‘next thing.’ Concentrate on that, starting with finding a zombie who can lead us to the controller.” Jeremy stopped and looked around. “We’ll split up here. I doubt Rose is in the building, but she may return.”
Fatherhood
WE FINISHED SEARCHING THE BUILDING, BUT FOUND NO sign of Rose. At eleven, Jeremy sent Clay and me to look for Zoe. This time, both Clay and I went into Miller’s. Our entrance caused only the barest ripple of interest from the regulars. One sweep of the bar told us Zoe wasn’t there.
“You looking for Zoe again?” the bartender asked.
I nodded and approached the counter. “Has she been in?”
He shook his head. “Might not be, either. You got lucky last night. If she does pop by, I’ll tell her you were looking.”
I thanked him and we left.
We went back to the warehouse, where we hung out with the others, waiting for Rose. When she didn’t show up by two, Jeremy declared the night a bust. That was an understatement. The whole day had been a write-off, and we were no closer to finding Shanahan or a zombie or closing the portal than we had been when we woke up. Shanahan hadn’t even called me back about the investment.
A jab in the stomach woke me the next morning, and I started awake, hands flying to my belly, twisting to tell Clay that I’d felt the baby move, I’d finally-
“Sorry,” Nick mumbled.
I wasn’t surprised to see Nick sleeping beside me. I’d have been more surprised if he hadn’t been. When the Pack was together, shared sleeping arrangements were common…which isn’t as kinky as it sounds. Our goofing around does push the boundaries of platonic pretty hard sometimes, but Clay and I are monogamous, fanatically so, as Nick often grouses. A wolf thing, one mate for life and all that.
“That was you? The jab?”
“Yeah.” Nick blinked and rubbed his hand over his face. “Stray elbow. Next time, tell Jeremy you need a king-size bed-” He stopped. “Oh, you thought it was the baby kicking. Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said, turning before he saw my expression. “It’s this guy’s fault.” I prodded Clay, who was sprawled over two-thirds of the mattress. “Bed hog.”
“It still could’ve been the baby. He could be practicing his rat-punting in there, and you’re just passing it off as indigestion.”
I leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks.”
I looked back at Clay, whose face was buried in the pillow. I laid my hand between his shoulder blades, and felt his back rising and falling in soft, steady snores.
“He’s wiped,” I whispered. “Too many nights worrying about me. We should let him sleep.”
Nick nodded and we grabbed our clothes, then slipped into Nick’s room to shower and dress.
We were checking out the room service menu when the door swung open and Clay wheeled in, wearing only his jeans, his curls mussed, eyes bleary but dark with worry that vanished as soon as he saw me.
“Whoops,” Nick said, snaking a hand around my waist. “He caught us. We were about to get food without him.”
I forced a smile. I knew why Clay had come bursting in. For ten years, anytime he’d gone to bed with me and woken up alone, there’d been a good chance that I wasn’t just in the next room.
It had always happened like that. We’d get back together for a while-days, maybe weeks-then one morning, I’d wake and see him beside me, and my brain would scream, “What the hell are you doing? Have you forgotten what he did to you?” and I’d run.
Since I’d accepted that I wanted to stay, we’d had our spats, but I never took off. Yet sometimes, if I wasn’t beside him in the morning, he wouldn’t so much as use the bathroom until he knew where I was.
“You sleep okay?” he asked, still standing in the doorway.
I nodded. He nodded. Silence thudded down.
After a moment, he waved to the room service menu. “Go ahead and order.”
“Glad we have your permission,” Nick said.
Clay made a face and started to retreat.
“Hold on,” Nick said. “Since you’re up, we might as well eat someplace with tables. There’s a restaurant across the road. Elena and I’ll head over. You can catch up.”
Clay hesitated, but he couldn’t very well refuse, not without implying that Nick couldn’t protect me.
“I’ll shower and be right there.”
We loaded up plates, then headed to the sidewalk patio to eat. Although it was lunchtime, the only other patrons were one couple who’d stayed inside, out of the late morning heat, so we had the patio to ourselves.
I ripped the top off my orange juice. “So you’re going to be an uncle. Think you’re up for it?”