SwitchBack: A Paranormal Werewolf Romance (Knightsbridge Canyon Series Book 1) (2 page)

This time, though, someone had shot me with a tranquilizer dart, in the middle of the night no less. Who does that? No idea, never found out, don’t want to know. Narcotics don’t work well on me in wolf form, by the way, which was why I didn’t go down. Nothing less than a bear dose would probably do it. I managed to make it back without trouble.

The next morning I did the steam room, and then the infection showed up. I made up a story about a hunter’s ricochet and went to the ER expecting to be sent on my way with antibiotics, but they said it was a drug-resistant strain so
boom
, straight into surgery. From the way it felt afterward, the surgeon used a steak knife and an ice cream scoop to excise the necrotizing tissue. They told me they got it all, and shot me full of the latest thing, gave me pills to take and orders for a regimen of bleach baths for the next three weeks.

I was able to get three more free days at the resort by hinting that the infection was their fault, caught from the steam room bench, but eventually I had to go recuperate where assistance was near. Among my relatives, Amber was my best choice. I really do love her, you know, even if we are like oil and vinegar. We may taste great together but we still don’t mix very well.

Want to guess who’s the oil, and who’s the vinegar?

Don’t ever let any of those sparkly werewolf books or movies fool you. Unless our injuries are cured by some kind of magic, we also have to heal over time. Oh, it may happen faster, especially in wolf form, but when it comes to infections, colds and viruses, we’re just like the rest of you. And since I was trapped at home nursing an oozing sore, I was stuck with what the girls had on disc in the den or what J.R. had in his bedroom. Hell, I could always play Singstar, but a girl gets tired of hearing the sound of her own voice. I had my phone, but as I paid for the data myself, I had to go easy on it when I wasn't working and able to expense it.

I couldn’t even figure out how to work the streaming TV channels, and the only internet this retro household had was a cheap hotspot from five years ago. I think Elle deliberately made everything complicated so nobody could mess with her sports.

“So, where you going tonight?” I asked as Amber put herself together.

“Oh. Nothing special,” she answered. “Elle has this charity function sponsored by the Animal Rights Coalition.”

“Animal Rights?” I sneered. “What about people’s rights? I mean, some of us treat our dogs better than we treat each other. Don’t we Spanky?” I threw that last bit out at the miniature Schnauzer who sat in the doorway staring up at Amber’s transformation. I turned back to watch my sister go from beautiful to breathtaking in the Clairol-quality lighting over the mirror. She’d mesmerized me ever since I was child with her ability to use makeup in its most subtle and glamorous ways.

“That’s because Spanky’s special,” Amber singsonged. “Aren’t you, Spanky?”

He barked in response and his stubby tail began to wiggle.

Amber sighed and touched up her lips with a darling cinnamon custard. “Don’t think you’re missing anything. Just a lot of ho-hum and small talk. You’d find it very boring. I know I will.”

“Hey, hey, now,” Elle said. I watched her look over from where she stood putting on a few last touches of her own in the other mirror. His and hers…I mean, hers and hers mirrors; it was so decadent. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

Amber launched another of her dazzling smiles and gave Elle a peck on the cheek as she exited the master bath. I followed, feeling frumpy in my Jaclyn Smith flannel cotton white PJs with the intersecting black, blue, and brown stripes down the side.

“Besides, Jeanetta Macdonald will be there and she can’t help but seethe whenever she sees me. Just another perk for looking like you, Ashlee,” Amber skewered.

Shane’s sister, I thought. Crap. I was hoping she’d get out of this town so I wouldn’t have to remember. The truth was, I didn’t have to remember, at least not right now, so I flipped a switch in my head and chose to think of other things.

“Anyway, I’m sure you can keep yourself occupied for a couple of hours by yourself. J.R.’s over at his Dad’s and Mervin won’t be bringing him back till the morning.” Amber strode forward out of the bedroom, down the stairs to the landing, and almost fell down the steps.

“Damn it, J.R.!” She shot into the air as she grabbed for the banister. “Honey!” she yelled. “Did I or did I not tell J.R. to move his things from off the stairs?”

“You did.” Elle’s voice came out of the bedroom. When it came to raising J.R., Elle was pretty hands-off.

“I thought so.” Amber shook the exasperation from her eyes and smiled. “Kids. They may just be the death of me.” She bundled up the nylon jacket that J.R. had left on the floor and tossed it into the laundry room around the corner.

“Elle? You ready?”

“Hold your horses, woman!” Elle snapped from the bedroom. “I’m coming.”

I strangled a laugh. “Ah, domestic bliss.”

Amber glared and carefully flounced down the hallway.

“Yeah, well, don’t you worry, sister.” Elle sucker-punched me in the arm as she breezed by. “Your time will come soon and then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” I yelled from my position at the top of the staircase, cradling my elbow.

Amber yelled back, “And don’t even think about sneaking into my room tonight to try on my clothes. I’ve booby-trapped the closet.”

And with that, the door slammed and my sister and her partner were out for the evening. The dog barked while I tried to do my happy dance. I thought better of it as a twinge of pain reminded me of my wound. So, I just sang.

“I do the hippie-hippie shake…ye-eah…I do the hippie-hippie shake.” And I headed off to see what latest additions Amber had made to her wardrobe. Booby trap, hell. I eat booby traps for breakfast.

“I am so depressed,” I said three hours later from the Berber-carpeted floor of my sister’s humongous walk-in closet. Scratching Spanky behind his ears and calculating the deficiency of my own wardrobe, I realized what having two healthy incomes can do for a woman’s choices. Amber and Elle had racks and racks of top-of-the-line name brands, and even J.R. had designer stuff to work with. “Maybe I should become a lesbian,” I said to the uncomprehending Spanky. “Or at least bisexual, and marry a successful lawyer. They seem to get all the attention, and the swag.”

The little schnauzer cocked his head at me and bumped his nose up for more pronounced attention. He didn’t usually like outsiders, but since we came from the same zygote and he likes my sister, I guess he likes me too. “Huh, Spanky? Should I become a lesbian?” I asked him in my girliest voice, but he only licked my nose and then looked away.

“Ashlee, you would make a terrible lesbian,” Amber said as she breezed by me through her walk-through closet into the master bath. I’d heard her come in, of course, but I was too depressed to move. “You like guys too much.”

“I do, Spanky,” I baby-talked as I rubbed shnozzes with the dog’s cute little muffin nose. “I do like guys too much. It’s horrible. I know. But I just can’t stay away from rock-hard abs and tight butts.”

“You are
really
disturbing me,” Elle said as she hung up the expensive-looking slick-black-with-pearl-piping power blazer she’d worn that evening and took off the sensible but Amber-influenced brand-name flats she always wore. “Put the dog down and back away slowly.”

“I know! I disturb myself.” I groaned and rolled onto my back on the floor. “Ow. Ow. OW!”

Amber stuck her head out of the bathroom and looked worried.

“Ash? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just so pathetic!” I cried as I cradled my wounded hip.

“Hey Amber. I think I’ll let you handle this one.” Elle smirked and headed downstairs for a late-night snack. Women of society never eat much at social functions; hence the voracious appetite afterward.

“Ashlee Scott! You are not pathetic!”

“But I am! I am!” I moaned and curled up into a fetal position while Spanky played leapfrog over my aching ass.

“No. You are not. Mother would roll over in her grave if she heard you talking like that. You are a powerful, wonderful girl.”

“Amber, shush,” I muttered into the dog’s fur. I did not want a visit from my dead mother just at the moment.

Oh, didn’t I tell you? My mother haunts me. Maybe she haunts other people, but as far as I know, only I can see her. I’ve spotted some other ghosts from time to time, but I always shy away and act like I don’t.

This ability has something to do with the lupine gene, I believe. Amber didn’t get it. Only one per zygote. So, I’m the one with the weird menstrual cycle and the need to turn hairy at every full moon. Amber knows nothing, of course, about me or Mom, and I intend to keep it that way.

Sigh.

“What do you know about being pathetic?” I whined, picking up a pair of her Manolo Blahniks and bringing them to my nose to inhale. I was in heaven. They still smelled new.

“Because you and I are two peas from one pod and
I
am NOT pathetic. So, ergo, neither are you.”

“Oh, well then. That clears everything up!” I had to laugh. Amber grinned right back at me.

“I love you, you know,” I said, and right then I really meant it.

“I know.” She did a quick kiss-kiss to the air as she went back into the bathroom to undress. “I am lovable, after all.”

I think my sister got all the cute genes in the family. I know I didn’t come off half as adorable as she did, even when I was trying, which wasn’t often. Where Amber was like Pink Chandon, I was more like any hard drink you had to muddle sugar into to offset the bitters: an acquired taste.

I crawled on my hands and knees back to my bedroom as the dog followed behind me, playfully nipping at my heels. Time to take a pain pill and sleep off the looming depression. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day, I thought. I hoped. I prayed.

I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

“Who said you could use my laptop?” she said.

I gave her a shit-eating bear grin.“Grrr?”

“Yeah, grrr.” She looked and read.

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:

IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT YOU MAY NOT BE AWARE BUT THAT YOU HAVE BEEN TARGETED AND I HAVE BEEN COMPELLED TO HELP TERMINATE YOU. I TELL YOU THIS BECAUSE I DO NOT BELIEVE THE ACCUSATIONS THAT MY EMPLOYER HAS LEVELED ABOUT YOU AND FEEL THAT YOU SHOULD KNOW SO AS THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN VERY OFTEN, IN FACT NEVER, AS I AM A PROFESSIONAL, BUT I TRUST YOU AND WANT TO HELP YOU.

SINCERELY,

A FRIEND

The sender’s address was nothing but a bunch of characters. It must be some kind of anonymous email server.

“What the fudge?” came the words from my sister’s usually righteous mouth.

“That’s kinda what I said, but with a
c
and a
k
.” I stared at her.

“This can’t be serious.” Amber looked more like me when she wasn’t all dolled up. She the lipstick lesbian and I the tomboy, go figure, but sans makeup, two peas and all that.

“That’s what I said. And God, what a hack. J.R. could write better copy.”

“You get a possibly threatening email and you’re critiquing the sender’s writing skills?”

“I’ve gotten threatening emails before,” I said with an offhandedness I did not feel, “but usually they have something to do with an article I wrote.”

We looked at each other with a slight tension in our eyes.

“Hey Elle!” Amber yelled at the top of her lungs. Before we knew it, Elle was at the door with a baseball bat, looking thoroughly disheveled.

“WHAT? What’s the matter? What?” Elle brandished the bat like she was trying out for the San Francisco Giants, shook the morning sleep from her eyes and blinked at us uncomprehendingly.

Amber handed Elle some reading glasses, one of the many sets she had lying around the house. “Look at this email.” She swung the laptop around some more. “Ashlee just got this and I don’t know what to make of it.”

Elle read quickly, mouthing the words. When she got to the word “terminate,” she looked up at me and her eyes got wide.

“DUCK!” she screamed, and we all did as I heard the sound of breaking glass over my shoulder and caught it on the chin as a baseball sailed into the room.

The sound of quick footsteps padding up the walk and J.R.’s voice were the next things I remember as Amber shook me where I lay.

“Is everyone okay? Why is Aunt Ash on the floor?” J.R. asked.

“Ashlee! Wake up!” My sister’s voice now.

“Am I dead?” I murmured. At least, I thought it was me as I struggled back to consciousness with the dog licking my face.

“Spanky, knock it off.” I pushed him away, but he came right back, thinking we were playing some new kind of game.

“Spanky! Go lie down,” my sister ordered, and when my sister used that tone, you knew you were in trouble. The dog slunk out the door and collapsed on the tile, laying his head on his forepaws and giving us that “what did I do?” look. “Be careful, J.R., there’s glass all over.”

“Gee, Mom. I’m sorry. I didn’t think I could hit the thing that hard. I wasn’t even trying.” J.R. apologized profusely from the doorway of the den. My ex-brother-in-law Mervin, and I emphasize the X, as in
crossed out, no thanks, buh-bye
, stood behind my nephew smirking as his face wandered into focus.

“Damn, Mervin. Next time you want to take out the ex, why don’t you make sure you’re aiming on the right twin sister.” Amber sponged me toward consciousness with a cool cloth. “And you can stop that now! I’m up! I’m up!” I growled. Just had to get my knees under me as I rose from the carpet.