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“Stop hitting on your psychiatrist. It’s not what a good patient would do, son,” Mr. Elkins groused.
“Oh, come on. It’s not a crime to flirt and try to get my memories back at the same time.”
Before the two could start quarreling, I interjected, “Hey, Zander, how is the memory recall coming along? Do you remember me?”
Zander looked at me, but there was no recognition. “I don’t, not at all. But Dr. Kipling is slowly helping me remember small things from my life, little core memories from when I was young. She says that sometimes the little things bring up bigger memories, so we’ve been chatting about those times in my life. We haven’t made much progress, but I’m excited that I’m remembering some things.”
He did seem excited about what he was remembering. I couldn’t imagine what it was like not remembering who I was, where I came from, or the people in my life. It would be scary to face the world when everything was unknown. Who would an amnesiac know who to trust?
“Do you remember anything about having a childhood pet? An affinity for any wild animals?”
It would be a strange question to anybody else, but I figured it was a good way to segue into finding out if the former alpha recalled anything about shifting.
“I had a pet turtle named Franklin in second grade.” Zander’s eyes lit up at that. He looked very proud of himself for remembering that piece of useless information.
I was probably being too hard on him. For him, that wasn’t useless information, but a memory he’d uncovered on his own. It was a significant accomplishment, but not what I needed.
I sat down in the chair Lola had vacated and took a stealthy whiff of Zander. What the doctor had said was true. Zander was human now, plain and simple. There was no hint of a wolf in his scent.
He’d also allowed me to get closer to him without grumbling, and there was none of his usual aggression in his demeanor. When he’d been shifter, his wolf was always on full display. He’d never eased off his wolf, allowing himself to be fully merged with his wolf at all times. It had caused problems because he was an alpha, and the alpha wanted to control everything and be the dominant one. It had been the cause of a lot of friction between us.
“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Zander asked me.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m Ridge Blackwood.”
“Ridge. Well, good to see you again, I guess.”
Chuckling, I couldn’t help but think that if he only knew who I was, I’d be one of the last people he’d ever want to see.
“So why are you here, Ridge Blackwood?” he asked.
“Well, I’m the mayor, and I wanted to see if you were feeling okay or if you needed anything.”
Mostly, I was here for pack business as we’d never been friends, but I hated what had happened to him. I wanted to say that, but I wasn’t about to kick somebody while they were down. Who knew if he’d ever become a wolf again? I prayed to the moon goddess that this wouldn’t be permanent. Taking this man’s wolf was wrong. It was a crime akin to murder.
“Mayor, I feel great. I’m not under the weather or tired or anything like that. But I’d feel much better if you sent that pretty Dr. Kipling back in.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, and I laughed. Apparently, being a horndog was a natural part of him and had nothing to do with being a dominant alpha wolf. He was just more playful about it now.
Since I couldn’t do anything more, I said my goodbyes and told everyone I’d be in touch soon. I was ready to get out of there. Zander had no memories of his inner wolf, and no longer carried the scent of his wolf or the scent that marked him as part of my pack.
Not stopping to talk to anyone, I left the hospital feeling deeply disturbed and wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now. This was new territory. I didn’t know where to begin. I only knew so much about witches—they were very rare beings and usually drew their magic from nature. Dark witches existed because that was how humans became hunters in the 1800s. They’d appealed to the witches, and after some discussion, they’d worked out an arrangement that had puzzled shifters ever since. At least, no shifter ever confessed to knowing why witches decided to help the humans.
While Zander seemed physically fine right now, in my gut, I knew his condition couldn’t be natural and would have terrible repercussions. When nature wanted something to be, she’d fight to the bloody end to get what she wanted. There was no beating Mother Nature.
Getting behind the wheel of my SUV, I slammed the door harder than intended and slumped in the seat. There was no way around it now—I’d have to call a meeting among the Blackwood Creek shifters sooner than I’d wanted. The danger we faced was far greater than I’d initially thought. I couldn’t keep them in the dark any longer.
They deserved to know that getting captured by the hunters might result in them losing their wolves entirely. I hoped that having this knowledge wouldn’t force them to make a break for it. We needed to rely on being a pack more than anything. It was the only way to survive the hunters.
As I drove past the Moonlight Café, I was surprised to see Clawson sitting on a bench across the café, his big Stetson in hand, his eyes on the diner’s window. The guy looked troubled.
I pulled over, undid my seatbelt, then hurried over to my oldest friend.
“What’s going on, Clawson? Your newest resident giving you headaches?”
Clawson started. He hadn’t heard me coming. Interesting. Birch Clawson was the ubiquitous boy scout, always prepared, so catching him unaware had me intrigued.
“Headache?” he replied. “Do you remember when we fell into poison oak? Well, that’s how I’m feeling about our hunter ‘friend’ right now. Like I want to scratch my skin off.”
“Has he given you anything at all? Any information about numbers? Plans? Anything?”
