Hot Blooded

acknowledging the pain
in her chest. Its torso was unclothed, muscular, hairy, with bits of tattered
white material clinging here and there. Its lower extremities—wore jeans.
    She blinked and looked again, but they remained. Denim jeans, torn and dirty,
but there. So much for her theory that the sightings were of some previously
undiscovered species. The jeans told her otherwise. Animals didn't routinely
wear human clothing.
    But just how human was it?
    "Can you understand me?" she asked, forcing her voice to come out clearly, if
not quite calmly.
    The beast leaned closer, its dark eyes moving over her body. It seemed, she
thought, to be looking her over as thoroughly as she'd been doing to it. But its
gaze stopped on the front of her, and she glanced down and saw three bloody
tears in her blouse, and in the flesh beneath.
    She lifted her head, found those eyes waiting there. It bent still closer.
She thought it might be catching the scent of her blood. Of her. And it was
changing, even as she watched, the body altering in the darkness, the snout
elongating.
    "I mean you no harm," she said.
    It growled loudly and leapt at her, would have landed fully upon her if she
hadn't reacted instantly. She lifted both her legs and thrust her feet against
its chest with all her might. Its forward momentum halted, the creature shot
backward so fast that its feet—paws—left the pavement a second before its entire
body landed there. It didn't look like it had before. It was a wolf now, and she
wondered vaguely if it had been all along. But she knew better than to question
her own senses.
    She jumped to her feet, scrambled for her tranq gun and spun around with it
aimed and ready.
    The creature was gone. She caught a glimpse of the wolf leaping a ditch with
a graceful power that took her breath away. It landed easily, never breaking its
stride. The bayou and the mists soon swallowed it up.
    "My God," she whispered. "It's real."
    She touched the wounds on her chest, wincing in pain as she did. Damn, those
cuts were painful. They were also fabulous. Physical evidence!
    Looking around the road, seeing no sign of danger, she replaced the gun in
her pack as she dug for the more important items. The flashlight, a mini-camera,
sterile bags to collect samples. Maybe the creature had left a few hairs behind.
She photographed the area, marked it with a discreet orange chalk X, noted the
time. She was disappointed when she found no samples. She had been so close,
too. Why the hell hadn't she reached out and plucked a few hairs when it had
been leaning over her?
    As she packed her stuff back up, she went still as an unearthly howl came
floating on the night from somewhere far away. It was, she thought, the most
heartbreaking sound she had ever heard.
    Â 
    AT 8 A.M. when the doctor arrived at the small town's only clinic, carrying a
half-full cup of coffee and looking a bit bleary-eyed, she was there waiting. He
glanced at her when he walked through the reception area. She wasn't sitting,
but instead pacing the waiting room. He stopped short, eying her from head to
toe, and making her so self-conscious she ran a hand through her short red curls
and wondered if they were standing on end.
    "I hope you're the doctor," she said.
And damn
, she thought,
I
really mean that
. He was the best-looking man she'd seen in six months.
    He held her eyes as if he'd heard her thoughts, then turned away to glance
toward the receptionist behind her desk.
    "She was waiting outside when I got in, and that was a half-hour ago," the
woman, whose nameplate read SALLY HAYNES, told him, shaking her head.
    He looked back at Jenny again, and she shivered just a little. "If it was an
emergency you should have gone to the—"
    "The ER, I know. It isn't that kind of an emergency."
    "What kind? Medical?"
    "Could we talk in an exam room?"
    He lowered his head. "Sure. Follow me."
    Sally held out a fresh white lab coat, and he took it as he passed, pulling
it on as he led the way to the first exam room. He tugged a stethoscope from his
shirt pocket and draped it around his neck on the way. Once in the room, he
nodded at the paper-covered table. "Have a seat while I wash my hands." Then he
glanced at her. "I do have time to wash my hands, don't I?"
    She nodded once, so he went ahead and scrubbed, dried with paper towels,
tossed them and finally turned to face her again. Then he went still, seeming
surprised