She hissed into the phone, probably meaning to whisper. “I bit somebody!”
“I’ll be right there.” Dustin tossed his phone aside and stomped the gas pedal, hoping to make it to his office before all hell broke loose.
His heart fell the moment he spotted Irene’s truck parked outside his practice. He didn’t even have to enter the office. Weak as she was, the virus in Tiffany’s possum-form saliva had clearly jumpstarted Seth’s dormant strain. Pheromones leaked through the windows, the pungent scent of mature male possum calling to Dustin like a siren’s song.
Dustin bolted through the door, grateful Tiffany wasn’t in sight, though her bedside manner might have been preferable had she not been inconsolable. He found Seth and Monica in an examining room.
“Quit being a baby,” Monica barked. “It’s only a scratch.” Seth sat, wide-eyed and blinking on the edge of the table, clutching a bloody washcloth around his wrist.
“He won’t let me clean it, doctor.” Monica stepped back, dusting her hands together.
Dustin glared; his assistant glared back. “Monica, wait outside until I need you, please.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Hey, Seth. What happened?” Dustin nodded to Seth’s extended wrist.
“Something bit me.”
Dustin scrubbed his hands in the sink before applying gloves, though he actually didn’t need them. His human DNA effectively killed viruses only affecting animals, and his opossum DNA counteracted human viruses. While theoretically rabies affected both animals and humans, possums were mostly immune—a little known oddity and the basis of the thesis Dustin completed to get into the highly confidential shifter program at medical school.
He peeled back the washcloth, wincing at the severity of the bite. With a delicate hand, he cleansed the wound, gently probing the perimeter of the injury. As if scent alone weren’t enough to go by, the edges of the wound healing faster than normal underscored Seth’s virus status. Other changes would come.
In the back of Dustin’s mind hung a cloud of worry. With a newly awakened virus in his system, Seth’s going back to Chicago without knowing could prove dangerous. But there was time enough to plan for the future later. The virus alone couldn’t bring a shift, and some fullblood passel members lived their whole lives as carriers, never totally manifesting the full symptoms of Channing-Frost. Maybe that would be true for Seth. One could hope.
“I need to take a blood sample,” Dustin said, more for Seth’s benefit than for medicinal purposes. He’d already guessed the results.
He moved in close, inhaling a musky whiff. Once more, an overwhelming need to possess Seth raged through him, an inferno out of control. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to return focus to the task at hand.
“What about rabies?” Seth asked.
“We can’t get rabies. I mean, possums don’t carry rabies. Their body temperatures are generally too low to sustain that particular virus.”
Seth narrowed his eyes and snatched his hand back. “Who told you it was a possum?”
Oh shit, you’ve done it now!Dustin backpedaled—hard. “Umm… well, if you’ll notice the edges of the bite, the pattern of the teeth. Plus, Irene told me she’d occasionally found one in the house.”
Seth relaxed, letting Dustin take his hand again. “Yeah, it was a possum.”
Forcing lascivious thoughts from his mind, Dustin slipped into doctor mode, collecting a blood sample and then passing it out the door to Monica. Surely she sensed Seth’s changed status, probably what provoked her ire. Whoever’d let Tiffany slip off last night had a lot to answer for.
After cleaning the wound, applying a bandage, and issuing a few precautionary shots, Dustin opened the door at Monica’s insistent tapping. “Tell him, ‘welcome to the family,’” she murmured, sliding the test results into his hand and confirming Dustin’s previous conclusion. Welcome to the family, indeed.
He didn’t say anything until Monica gave up and quit listening at the door, then he swiped his lips over Seth’s temple. “I want you to take it easy today, and if you notice anything unusual, call me, okay?” They needed to have a long talk later. For now, damage control.
Dustin spent the rest of the morning luring Tiffany, in possum form, out from behind a trash can in the ladies’ room.
BY THEtime Seth left Dustin’s office, the steady throbbing in his wrist had lessened to an intermittent tingle. He flexed his arm as much as he dared and it seemed to function fine.
Deciding to stop by the grocery store for staples Monica didn’t seem aware of, like Hamburger Helper and beer, Seth was quite surprised when a mom with two small kids in tow said, “Good morning, jack.”
Huh? Was Monica’s special brand of crazy catching? Putting the incident out of his mind for his sanity’s sake, he perused the shopping aisles. A wonderfully enticing scent hit his nostrils, and as if propelled by some unseen force, he found himself at the meat counter, shoulder to shoulder with three other men. He lowered his face into the cooler case, snuffling deeply. Mmmmm….
“Oops, sorry. That pack’s going bad.” A white-jacketed man rushed forward, grabbing the rancid hamburger meat and hauling it away.
Three forlorn faces stared at Seth. “Get used to it, jack,” one said, giving him a comradely clap on the back. “Happens all the time.” Puzzled, but happy not to be the target of the hostility Monica reserved for outsiders, Seth finished his shopping and hurried back to the farmhouse. He suddenly found himself craving the sliced turkey he’d considered throwing out two days ago.
A black Cadillac Escalade turned in behind him. He parked the truck in its spot in the barn, then returned to find a portly gentleman waiting by the front door. “Mr. McDaniel? Hi, I’m Wilson Levitt, and I’d like a few moments of your time, if you don’t mind.”
