Changeling Moon Read Online Free PDF

son-of-a-bitch, Macleod. You’re trying to trick me.”
    Connor shook his head, his hand unmoving, the pressure unwavering. “No tricks, Bernie. You’re too dangerous to be allowed to Change anymore and you know it. I let you talk me out of it last time, but not today. I saw you in the road. I knew it was you. And the woman you attacked defended herself, cut your face. Marked you.”
    He held a tight rein on his emotions, kept his voice calm but he knew Bernie would see the rage plainly in his eyes if he looked. Something primal was frighteningly close to the surface, and Connor was sweating with the effort of holding it back. Please, dear God, let him accept this. If I have to fight with him, I just may kill him. And I’ll want to.
    â€œYou know what has to happen, Bernie. Jessie leads the Pack and she’s ordered it.” And even if she hadn’t ordered it, Connor knew he would still be here, still be doing this. Because of Zoey.
    The older man opened his mouth as if to protest, but no sound came out. Moments passed. Suddenly Bernie turned his ruined face to the wall and remained motionless as Connor rolled the frayed shirtsleeve up, swabbing the inside of the arm over a vein. The vet drew a large syringe from the kit, then reached in his pocket for the same bottle of silver nitrate he’d used on Zoey’s wounded leg.
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    The young RCMP officer flipped his notepad closed, put his hat back on, and left. Zoey knew he hadn’t believed her about the wolf even though she’d unwrapped her bitten calf for the sake of evidence. He’d been sympathetic and hadn’t treated her like an idiot—the deputy mayor had already done that over the phone—but it was still very clear that the cop thought it was a dog attack.
    She threw her slipper across the room, which only irritated her aching ribs. “I may be from the city but I know damn well that was no dog!” In February she had photographed a major dogsled race on the frozen river. Every breed of sled dog was present, and even some dogs that were genuinely half wolf. She’d watched in horror as two teams suddenly sprang on each other between races, and vividly remembered the blood-chilling sound of twenty large dogs roaring and snapping at each other while their owners waded into the melee to haul them apart. Still, nothing looked remotely like the beast that had attacked her, nothing was that big, that bent on killing.
    Zoey sat back and surveyed the large teeth marks on her calf, thankful that she wasn’t squeamish. It was a bad bite, but it looked clean and there wasn’t a lot of swelling. There were butterfly closures on several of the punctures and they seemed to be doing their job—there was only a little blood on the gauze she’d removed. Still, she didn’t kid herself. There was no denying that if the wolf had been able to get any traction on the slippery ice, if she hadn’t hit the beast just right on its sensitive nose and muzzle, she might well have lost a sizeable chunk of her leg. At the very least. She’d seen the horrible results of two separate dog attacks in Vancouver. One of the victims, an elderly woman, had died. The other, a strong young man, had been maimed for life.
    She shivered and turned her attention to the dilemma at hand. How could she warn people if she couldn’t get the authorities to believe there was a wolf? The village officials thought she’d been bitten by a large dog, which was an unpleasant but relatively more acceptable problem. Maybe she should work with that.
    â€œOkay, okay, the point is that people need to be on the lookout for something ,” she said aloud, testing the idea. “So what if they’re looking for a big ferocious dog instead of a wolf? Does it really matter?” It was a tough call. Tell the truth and be labeled a loony . Then the story would be dismissed. No one would bother looking for a creature of any