Page 45 of Hoofin’ It

“Why?”

“If you think these tests are bad, they’re far worse if you don’t classify as human. You’d be spending the next month as a guest of the CDC while you were evaluated, classified, studied, properly identified, and otherwise turned into a test subject until we determined if you were a risk to public health.”

I grimaced. “Will I have to come back in for more testing?”

“I’d recommend it, but you’ll find they’re not nearly as invasive. Most of it them would involve a talent instructor attempting to find out if you have any latent abilities. These can be scheduled later, after your shoulder finishes healing. For all intents and purposes, as soon as your artificial eye is returned, you’re free to leave, Mr. Gibson.”

Chapter Fourteen

A cruiser was parked outside my apartment building, and I recognized the pair of cops from looking at the back of their heads. In the afternoon light, Michelle Warner’s red hair stood out in sharp contrast to her partner’s brown, which was streaked with enough white it earned him the nickname of Stripes. I called Kayne by his real name, but only because he had a phobia of lycanthropy so intense my presence often sent him into a panic.

“Thanks for the lift,” I murmured, making my escape from the SUV before the CDC thought of any other reasons to detain me. Armed with my new license, which had been shoved into my hand on my way out the door, I’d be able to wipe a lot of smirks from smug racists’ faces. The license bore several new notations on it, and the lycanthropy contagion risk flag had been removed. I headed for the parked car, circled to Kayne’s side, and tapped on the glass.

Kanye landed on his partner’s lap on the other side of the vehicle, his scream audible through the window.

Michelle laughed her ass off, waved at me, and opened her door, wiggling from beneath her hyperventilating partner. “Shane, you look like hell.”

In Michelle-speak, she was happy to see me, almost concerned about my appearance, and in a good enough mood I could likely survive the conversation without her demonstrating her martial art skills.

Of my fellow cops, I liked Michelle the most; unlike her partner, she had nothing against lycanthropes. I whipped out my brand-new license and showed it to her. “My birthday came early this year.”

Michelle squinted, peered at the card, and sucked in a breath, snatching it. “No fucking way!”

“Fucking way.”

“How the hell did you convince them to remove the flag? I know damn well you’ve been exposed at least ten times since you joined the force. There’s no way this is legal, Shane.”

“The CDC did it, so I hope it’s legal.”

“Wait, the CDC reissued your driver’s license? What were you doing at the CDC?”

“Tit-for-tat. What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you. We’ve been trying to track you down for days, actually.”

“What? Why?”

“The captain has some questions for you about some old case, and he wanted to ask them before your medical leave expired and you got transferred.” Michelle wrinkled her nose. “You have time to swing by the station for a bit?”

I groaned. “The only sleep I’ve had in two days has been under sedation, Michelle. Does it have to be right now?”

“We’ve been staking out your apartment for two days.”

Something wasn’t adding up, as I knew my godfather had spoken to someone in Chicago about my shooting. “The FBI or Lincoln police didn’t talk to the captain?”

Who had they spoken to?

“What? About what? The FBI? Lincoln? What are you talking about?”

“I was at my parents’ place and was gunned down not far from their house. Two rounds to the shoulder.”

“You have got to be shitting me.”

I grimaced and tugged at the collar of my shirt to show Michelle the bandage and the faint gunshot scars. “It can be easily confirmed with the Lincoln police. What’s so important you’d stake out my apartment?”

“Looks like it’s healing pretty damned fast to me. What’s the bandage for?”

“Someone bit me during an FBI raid I unintentionally attended. I’ve been assured I don’t have rabies.”