Page 20 of Fangs & Fur

I sigh in relief as I turn the final corner into the main street and cross the road to the police station. The orange glow of their office casts streaks of light through the rain. I’m through the door and past the front desk in a flash, going straight for the sergeant’s office.

He’s at his desk, like always, with a piping hot coffee and his computer blasting white light at him. He winces but doesn’t flinch as I pull his door open and collapse into the chair opposite his desk. He’s known me his entire life. I watched him graduate from high school and become a police officer. I was at his wedding and helped him put together his children's treehouse.

“Xander,” Malcolm sighs, leaning to the side to open the mini-fridge beneath his desk. He pulls out two items. A crispy, cold glass and a bag of blood.

With half his staff made up of supernatural beings, he’s fully stocked to accommodate them if things go awry. And in this case, he’s seen it before to know when a vamp is in need of a drink.

The ruby-red bag sloshes against the table, and I salivate. Barely managing to sit up without a groan, I snatch the bag, ignore the glass, and sink my fangs into the corner of the plastic. It’s thick and cold, and has my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I urgently swallow the flow of plasma.

The bag crinkles as I drain it, and my shivering limbs grow warm as the blood spreads through me, breathing heat back into my veins and fighting the shivers that dance across my skin. I finish the bag and lick my lips. The stench is weakening from the back of my throat, but I can still taste rotten eggs mixed with the metallic tang of blood.

I cringe.

“Care to explain why you’ve barged into my office and nearly died in my chair?” Malcolm’s voice drags as if he couldn't be more bored.

I clear my throat and pull ‌the phone from my pocket, placing it on the desk and tossing the now-empty blood bag into the trash can. “I’m here to report a death.”

That catches the sergeant's attention as he sits up a little straighter in his chair. Malcolm is a rather pudgy man with a soft tummy and a large throat, but his eyes are kind, despite the large bags that hang below them.

“Near the southern border, a girl, maybe in her early twenties. I found her body in a cave,” I explain as the sergeant clicks away at his keyboard.

“Human or Super?” he asks, his eyes not leaving the screen.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I don't know.”

The typing stops, and Malcolm looks at me from over the top of his computer screen, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean you don't know? You’re our best scent tracker in town, don’t make me call the Weres.”

I grimace. “It was impossible for me to tell. She didn’t even have a scent, let alone any indication of magic.”

“How did you find her?” The sergeant continues to fill out the report.

I do my best to convey everything I noticed. From the way she was strangely sitting up, to how her neck was broken and twisted. Yet, there were no tracks leading into the cave, as if she had just popped into existence.

Malcolm is calm as he completes the report and bags the phone for forensics. He quickly thanks me, while calling his subordinates, and eagerly shows me out. All the while his coffee has now grown cold and forgotten.

I find myself standing outside the station, staring at nothing in particular as the rain pours and cars rush past me. The sound of water hitting the street is like white noise compared to the cyclone of thoughts that slice through my mind.

In all the years of my life, I’ve witnessed life and death. Some are more peaceful than others. Yet, I’ve lost everyone in my family; even their children are gone. But after everything I've seen tonight, nothing makes sense.

The poor girl. Her scent was wiped, eradicated. There was nothing left of her, besides her empty, soulless body.

A shiver grinds against my spine, and I roll my shoulders, feeling the cold of the rain biting at my skin through my shirt. As a vampire, I'm no longer affected by the elements like I was when I was human, yet it’s not the temperature that's bothering me. Instead, my instincts are still shrieking like a tornado siren. Every cell in my body is telling me this town is no longer safe. The wards have been breached. Something far worse than ghosts and ghouls has broken into this haven.

Noah.

I freeze. My heart jolts, and the town turns into a blur as I race up the main street and towards my house. The rain is like needles against my skin, and the wind burns, but I don’t slow; instead, I speed up. Desperation clings to my throat, and I hear my own scream of fear as I round the corner, my house coming into view.

The lights are on, and Noah’s car is parked in the driveway. But I can't let my guard down until I can see him. Hold him.

Throwing myself up the steps and barreling through the door with a bang, Noah squeals, a wooden spoon in his hand goes flying, and Nyx hisses at me from the couch. Pumpkin can barely keep up with the pandemonium as his eyes dart warily around the room.

“XANDER!” Noah stamps his foot. “Don’t scare me like that!”

I’m standing before him within a blink of an eye, crushing him against my chest and shoving my face into the thick curls of orange hair atop his head. Sucking in a deep breath, his vanilla scent fills my lungs, and I groan as the final taste of sulfur leaves my system. I squeeze him against me, feeling the way his heart hammers in his chest, yet his small hands circle my waist, hugging me back.

I cradle the back of his head, shutting my eyes and silently thanking whatever might be looking out for us. Shivers take over my limbs and all I want to do is fall to the ground and hold Noah against me for the rest of the night. Maybe even for a day or two.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is muffled as he speaks against me. It physically pains me to let him step away. Even the few inches between us feel like a mile, and I pull him back against me. Noah lets out a little ‘oof’ in the process.