Page 11 of Hoofin’ It

“You didn’t steal my other eye, did you? I already told you. You can’t have either one of my eyes in a jar. I’ve only got one left, so you can’t have it.”

While she laughed, her voice was strained. “You’re an awful child.”

“I try. It’s hard to live up to your expectations.” I began the systematic process of testing my fingers and toes. Everything cooperated, but my right shoulder wasn’t pleased with my efforts. “Some dick shot me and stole my alpaca. I need a gun and an alibi, because I’m going to hunt him down and show him the right way to kill someone. And take my alpaca back. That’s important, too.”

Issuing threats had seemed a good idea, but my parents only sighed. I did accomplish one thing, though. Dad stopped growling.

“You’re going to be stuck here for three days, Shane, so you won’t be hunting down anyone and shooting them. The doctors won’t discharge you until they confirm you’re clean of lycanthropy. Your father donated a substantial amount of blood, so the doctors are worried you might become infected despite your resistance.”

“I’d like to file a complaint. Can’t they just send someone with a meter to the house in a couple of days?”

Lycanthropy infection wasn’t even a big deal. Unless the person was infected before birth, it usually took decades for the first shift to happen. Since the virus levels of the infected were monitored, doctors could reliably predict when the first shift would happen, complications were rare, and the danger associated with a new lycanthrope was minimized.

When Mom shifted, she’d be retired from work until she could demonstrate full control over all three of her forms. With Dad as the source of her infection, she’d become a wolf with the prized hybrid form, and he’d be able to teach her how to control it.

She’d be back to work within a couple of months.

“That’s what I tried to tell them, but they seem to think you’d prefer imprisonment in the hospital. Maybe if you tell them, they’ll change their minds. Your father’s going to growl himself hoarse. He’s not going to calm down until he gets you home. I’m sure he’ll remember how to speak English given a few minutes or a tranquilizer. I’m starting to think a tranquilizer is the way to go. I don’t understand how they think I’ll get him to leave in two hours.”

I thought about that and realized I had no idea what time visiting hours ended at any of the Lincoln hospitals. In Chicago, visitors were kicked out at ten. “What time is it?”

“Seven. You’ve been out of surgery for three hours. They brought in a mage from Des Moines to fuse your shoulder together. Between her help and your father’s blood, you won’t have any impairment. Your arm will be in a sling for the next week as a precaution. She did some pretty good work.”

I grimaced at how much flying in a mage would cost me. “My bank account doesn’t thank you.”

“Your insurance is covering it. Your father enjoyed having a little conversation with them.”

“Isn’t Dad limited to growling right now?”

“Emphasis on little. I merely told the agent you were the son of a rather agitated werewolf, and that I was infected, and it’d be absolutely terrible if stress induced my first shift. It’d be like detonating a bomb in a busy public place. A werewolf with the love of his life going through her first shift and his only beloved child critically injured during a drive-by shooting isn’t a force to be trifled with.”

“I’m starting to think you’re the reason I’m such an awful child, Mom.”

She laughed and kissed my cheek. “Is there a reason you’re keeping your eyes closed?”

“You mean he didn’t steal my glass eye along with my alpaca? Asshole. So, can you get me that gun and alibi?”

“No, Shane. We’re looking for Sally, though. I was going to call in some favors, but it turns out everyone is already on it. We have a description of the vehicle, and there’s quite the manhunt underway. Let us worry about finding the man who shot you and recovering your alpaca while you worry about healing.”

Since Mom wouldn’t be happy unless I demonstrated I still had one functional eye, I cracked it open and peeked through my lashes. The yellow lights overhead triggered a headache, and I hissed at the discomfort, giving up on the idea of looking around the room. “Let’s forget the whole opening my eyes thing for a while. Have I ever told you concussions really suck?”

Dad growled and snapped his teeth together. “Don’t listen to your mother. The concussion is the reason you’re staying here overnight. You about cracked your skull open on a rock when you went down.”

“Hey, Dad. How about that gun and an alibi?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“You’re the best father a son could possibly have. Get me a good gun. Something with a lot of bang for the buck. Hollow point rounds for starters, maybe?”

“Calibre?”

“The bigger, the better?”

“You sure woke up cranky. The drugs wear off already?”

“They stole my alpaca.” Getting shot was bad enough, but why would anyone kill someone to take Sally? She was adorable, and I’d grown accustomed to sharing my sleeping space with her, but she wasn’t cute enough to kill someone over.

Then again, maybe she was. I sure wanted to get my hands on a gun and hunt the bastard down. The ache in my shoulder had something to do with my desire to stir up some trouble and participate in an act or two of violence.