Blood Trail

lecturing tone, slow and precise. "Cloud is nearing sexual maturity. Her scent is changing. Storm is responding. Didn't you notice the way he was licking her?"

    "I thought that was for comfort, to clean the cuts."

    "It was, partially, but I didn't like the look of what it was turning into. That's why I sent him to the kitchen."

    "But he's her brother," Vicki protested.

    "Which is why the family will be sending him away. It's hard on twins. You simply can't keep them together during a first heat; he'd injure himself trying to get to her. When he's older, he'll be able to control his response but this first time, this first time for both of them. ..." Dr.
    Dixon let his voice trail off and shook his head.

    He remained silent as Peter came back into the room.

    "I brought you some water, too," he said, handing Vicki the second glass he carried.

    She thanked him. She needed a drink. Water would have to do. She watched carefully as Storm flopped down and rested his muzzle across Cloud's back, sighed deeply, and appeared to go instantly to sleep. It all looked perfectly innocent to her. She glanced at Dr. Dixon. He didn't look worried so apparently this was within the parameters of acceptable behavior.

    The tableau shattered a moment later when a car door slammed outside and both wer leapt up and raced for the front of the house, barking excitedly.

    "Their father," Dr. Dixon explained. "I called him as we were leaving the hospital. No sense worrying him before that and now he can take you back to the farm."

    "Do they know it's going to happen?" Vicki asked. "That he's going to be sent away?"

    Dr. Dixon looked momentarily puzzled. "Who? Oh. Cloud and Storm? Rose and Peter?" At her nod, he sighed. "They know intellectually that it's what happens, but for all they're wer, they're still teenagers and they don't believe it will happen to them." He shook his head.
    "Teenagers. You couldn't pay me enough to go through that again."

    Vicki reached over and clinked her glass against his. "Amen," she said. "Amen."

    Brows lowered, Mike Celluci worked his fingers around the steering wheel. He'd left his sister's later than he'd planned and felt lucky to get away at all. No one had warned him that their Aunt Maria would be at the "little family barbecue," probably because they knew he'd refuse to come.

    "Well, surely you didn't expect Grandma to come on her own, Mike. I mean the woman is eighty-three years old."

    If they'd mentioned Grandma was coming he'd have driven out to get her himself. A trip to Dufferin and St. Clair beat the hell out of an afternoon with Aunt Maria. Although he'd tried, it had been impossible to avoid her for the entire afternoon and eventually he'd had to endure the litany he'd heard from her at every meeting practically since puberty.

    When are you getting married, Michele? You can't forget, you're the last of the Cellucis, Michele. I told your father, my brother, rest his soul, that a man needs many sons to carry on the name but he didn't listen. Daughters, he had three daughters. When are you getting married, Michele?

    This afternoon he'd managed to keep his temper, but only barely. If his grandmother hadn't stepped in. ...

    "And the last thing I need now is a fucking traffic jam on the four-oh-goddamed-one." He had his light and siren in the glove compartment. The urge to slap it on the roof and go tearing up the paved shoulder, around the Sunday evening traffic, was intense.

    He wanted to be in London before dark, but he wasn't going to make it. If traffic didn't open up, he doubted he'd be there before eleven. Time wasn't a problem, he had three days off, but he wanted to confront Vicki tonight.

    He'd called Dave Graham, to let him know where he was heading, and ended up slamming the receiver down when the other man started to laugh.

    "Jealous," he growled, scowling up at the setting sun. It wasn't funny. Vicki had to be told what kind of person she'd gotten involved with. He'd do the same for any friend.

    Suddenly, he grinned. Maybe he should introduce Vicki to Aunt Maria; the old lady'd never know what hit her.

    "What are you so nervous about?"

    Vicki jumped, whirled, and glared up at Henry. "Don't do that!"

    "Do wha ... Sweet Jesu, Vicki, what happened?" He reached out to touch the purple and green lump on her temple but stopped when she flinched back.

    "There was an accident."

    "An accident?" He glanced around, nostrils flared. "Where is everyone?"

    "Outside." Vicki took a