First Moon (The Ternion Order Book 1) Page 5

  Kyle started to get up from his seat. He’d find the waitress, settle his bill, and get the hell out of there.

  “Kyle, please hear me out,” Amanda said, putting her hand on his arm. The tingle that her touch gave him this time could not be explained away by static electricity. “Sorry, I have to quit doing that.”

  Kyle lowered himself slowly back into his seat. There was something earnest about her expression that made him want to give her a chance to explain, and she didn’t carry herself with the smug entitlement of a reporter. He drank the remaining third of his beer in a couple of gulps, hoping it would help him relax. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m here because I think I can help you.” Her hazel eyes held his, and she appeared to be genuinely concerned.

  Kyle narrowed his eyes at her. “Help me do what?”

  She struggled to say whatever it was she wanted to say. “Well … get better, I guess.”

  Kyle sat back and shook his head. “What do you mean, get better? I’m fine. Still a little freaked-out by what happened, but anybody would be.”

  Amanda poked at her salad with her fork. “So, you haven’t noticed anything different in the past week? Other than maybe a change in appetite and improved reflexes?”

  Kyle snorted. “I don’t think there’s anything unusual about craving a burger. As for your water glass, I got lucky.”

  Amanda stopped playing with her salad and watched Kyle closely as she asked her next question. “What about the wounds on your chest?”

  Kyle closed his eyes and sighed. That was one of the embarrassing details included in the article. The reporter had thought it highly amusing that the throes of passion had ended in a literal death grip. Greg had assured him that everyone thought the article was in extremely poor taste, but Kyle had overheard enough snickering over the past week to make him wish he’d taken some time off and stayed home.

  “Look, I don’t know why you are interested in this, but someone died last week and I was there. It isn’t something I really feel like talking about.”

  He stared Amanda down, but her gaze remained steady and serious. “Just tell me this. Did she draw blood with her teeth or nails?”

  Oh, man. What kind of freak show am I dealing with here?

  “Listen to yourself, Amanda. Do you have any idea how creepy that question is?”

  Amanda looked over Kyle’s shoulder and her eyes lost their focus. Then she chuckled and shook her head. “I guess I see what you mean. Let me try again. If she did hurt you, did the wounds heal faster than normal?”

  The hair on Kyle’s neck stood up and a shiver ran down his spine. Her question was only marginally less creepy, and it put a sinister light on something he’d thought was a blessing. He decided he needed to understand where she was going with all this.

  “What are you getting at?”

  Amanda took a deep breath, put her fork down, and set her hands in her lap. “Clarissa Laughton may have passed something to you during your … interaction.”

  “Passed something? Like a disease?” he asked quietly but forcefully. He’d been wearing a condom that night, but condoms don’t protect you from everything.

  Amanda nodded slowly. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “Did you know Clarissa? How would you know about any disease she might have had?”

  It wouldn’t have surprised Kyle in the slightest to learn that Clarissa had recreated with both genders. Maybe Amanda knew Clarissa intimately.

  Amanda seemed to recognize the direction his thoughts had taken. She blushed and looked down at her plate. “I didn’t know Clarissa personally, but I knew of her. She belonged to a group of others who share her … condition.”

  “And you’re part of that group?”

  Amanda shuddered. “No, thank the Light. But I keep an eye on them.”

  Her shudder disturbed Kyle. This condition she was dancing around was apparently pretty bad. And he was tired of the dance.

  “Look, just lay it on the line for me. What is this condition you’re talking about, and why do you think I may have it?”

  The waitress came by right then and dropped their checks on the table. Amanda picked up her fork and pushed her salad around until the waitress had left. She finally looked up and met Kyle’s eyes.

  “Before I alarm you any more than I already have, let me ask you about the symptoms first. It’s only been a week, but some may have started to manifest. In any case, you’ll know what to watch for.”

  Kyle leaned forward, putting his arms on the table. “Okay. What are the symptoms?”

  Amanda pushed her plate aside and leaned forward as well. “First, there’s unusually fast healing.”

  Kyle nodded, but said nothing. The wounds on his chest had healed quickly, but they may have been superficial. The blood Clarissa had drawn suggested otherwise, but he was no expert on puncture wounds.

  “Next, your physical strength and dexterity improve to unusually high levels.”

  Kyle gave her a wry smile. She had tipped the glass over on purpose—to test him. So far, these so-called symptoms sounded pretty good.

  “Your eyes will start to change color.” Her hazel eyes searched his brown ones, but she didn’t seem to find what she was looking for.

  “What color?” Kyle interrupted.

  “It varies a little, but golden amber is most common.”

  Kyle nodded and Amanda went on.

  “In the first month, you’ll have strange dreams. You’ll feel compelled to find others who have your condition.”

  Kyle was taken aback. “That’s odd. It has a psychological aspect? What kind of disease is this?”

  Amanda took a breath to answer and then released it through her nose. Finally, she shook her head and said with regret, “Lycanthropy.”

  Kyle was sure he heard wrong. “Lycanthropy? As in werewolves?”

  Amanda gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry. That’s what Clarissa was. Last Saturday was the full moon. If she shifted even part way and scratched or bit you, you could become one too.”

  Kyle watched Amanda, waiting for the punch line. Greg must have set this up as some kind of practical joke. But the look she leveled at him was deadly serious.

  Kyle sat back and laughed. Shaking his head, he grabbed his check from the table and stood up. “It was nice to meet you, Amanda. I’m not sure who put you up to this, but tell them it was a good one. You had me going there for a while.”

  “Before you go, Kyle, know this. I believe I can help you, but we only have until the next full moon. If you want to contact me, leave a message at Butterflies and Rainbows.”

  Kyle frowned down at her. Butterflies and Rainbows was a small local store that specialized in spiritual books and curios that catered to the crystal-hugging crowd. The venue, coupled with her pentagram earring and her thank the Light comment, told him she was probably some kind of religious or superstitious nut-job who was fascinated by his bizarre experience last week.

  She wouldn’t be the first. At work, a woman from a different department had propositioned him, convinced he had a thing for older women. Another woman had made hints in the lunch line that she thought men who “liked it rough” were exciting. That stupid newspaper article had shattered his privacy and was attracting the crazies to him. He wondered briefly if he had grounds for a lawsuit.

  Still frowning, he said, “Goodbye, Amanda,” and went to pay his bill.

  While waiting for his credit card to clear, he glanced back at the table. Her check was tucked under her plate along with some cash, but the woman herself was gone.

  Good riddance.

  Chapter 5

  Dr. Adolphus Rutlinger

  Kyle parked his blue Ford Explorer in a shady spot and went around the side of the brick professional building. The sign by the road had listed several businesses, including doctors’ offices, accountants, and lawyers. Dr. Adolphus Rutlinger was in Suite 102, as it said on the business card the deputy had given him. The good doctor’s name w
as followed by the letters “DVM,” which meant nothing to Kyle. He’d expected to see MD or PhD, but he wasn’t familiar with the various medical designations.

  Kyle stopped when he reached the door to the office. “Rutlinger Pet Clinic,” the sign above the door declared. The DVM on the sign must have meant “Doctor of Veterinary Medicine.” Kyle looked down in confusion at the card in his hand. The deputy had recommended a vet? Was this some kind of joke?

  As Amanda had predicted, Kyle had been waking up in a sweat from the strangest nightmares every night since he’d met her. The dreams usually involved chasing something or being chased, and it always ended bloody. He couldn’t decide if she might know something after all, or if her crazy claims had messed with his head and caused his nightmares.

  Amanda had gotten to him so thoroughly that he even caught himself checking his eyes in the mirror each morning to see if they were changing color. Had his eyes always had that thin ridge of amber circling the brown iris? Probably. He’d just never had a reason to obsessively check his eyes for every nuance before then.

  That morning, Kyle had woken up exhausted and on edge after another night with little sleep. He decided that he needed help, but not whatever kind of help Amanda thought she could give. He’d give Dr. Rutlinger a try.

  Now he was reconsidering that decision.

  Shrugging, Kyle pushed through the door and entered the waiting room. He’d probably be able to figure out pretty quickly if the cop had been messing with him as well.

  A woman with a toddler sat waiting in one of the chairs along the wall. A husky puppy sat on the floor, wiggling its over-sized ears while it chewed on its leash and stared up at Kyle with pale blue eyes.

  “Can I help you?” asked the woman at the reception counter.

  Kyle stepped up to the counter and spoke quietly. “I’m looking for a Dr. Rutlinger, but I think there may have been some kind of mistake. A sheriff’s deputy gave me this card and suggested I contact him.” Kyle laid the card on the counter so the receptionist could read it.

  She looked at the card and then quickly back at Kyle. “May I have your name?”

  “Kyle Nelson.”

  “Please wait here, Kyle. I’ll be right back.”

  She bustled out of the room and into the back offices with some haste. Her reaction was so unexpected that Kyle snatched the card off the counter and seriously considered getting out of there. Was everyone around him acting strangely, or was he imagining things?

  Kyle was about to bolt when the door to the waiting room opened and a man stepped out. He was taller than Kyle’s six feet and had dark hair going gray at the temples. Not a hair was out of place. His white lab coat hung open to reveal a dark tailored suit.

  With a welcoming smile, the man stepped over to Kyle and held out his hand. “Hello Kyle. I’m Adolphus Rutlinger. I understand Deputy Arpin sent you to me.”

  The doctor spoke with a slight European accent of some kind. Kyle guessed it might be German or Austrian.

  “Yes, sir. She suggested I contact you if I ran into any … difficulties.” Kyle glanced toward the woman who was waiting. She thumbed idly through a magazine, appearing to be uninterested in their conversation.

  The doctor nodded. “I understand. Come with me, and we’ll talk in private.”

  Kyle followed Dr. Rutlinger through the door and down a short hallway to an examination room. The doctor closed the exam-room door and asked Kyle to have a seat next to the exam table in one of the room’s two chairs.

  The doctor sat opposite him and folded his hands in his lap. He gave Kyle an assessing look. “I’m glad you came by today, Kyle. I was wondering when I would see you.”

  Kyle tensed. “You knew I was coming? How?”

  He smiled and answered with a reassuring tone. “Don’t be alarmed. The good deputy told me that she gave you my card. In my experience, you were bound to come looking for answers eventually.”

  Kyle shook his head. “I’m confused. No offense, but why would a veterinarian have the answers? Shouldn’t I be seeing a people-doctor or a psychiatrist?”

  “An MD would find nothing wrong with you, and a psychiatrist would not be able to help you either, although you’d pay dearly to discover that. I operate a foundation that exists for the sole purpose of helping people in our situation.”

  Our situation? “What exactly is our situation?”

  Dr. Rutlinger held up a hand. “Before I explain more, we should be sure you have reason for concern. It would be a shame for you to worry over nothing, yes?”

  Kyle nodded, wondering what the doctor had in mind.

  The doctor scooted his chair closer until his knees were practically touching Kyle’s.

  “I want you to look into my eyes and tell me exactly what happened the night you met Clarissa.”

  Kyle did as the doctor asked. Up close, it was easy to spot the brown-tinted contact lenses that floated over the man’s irises. He wondered what color they hid.

  Kyle started relating the story of his evening with Clarissa. When he grew uncomfortable or started to hold back, the doctor prompted him with soft-voiced questions like, “How did that make you feel?” His soothing interest in Kyle’s experience made it easier for him to keep talking. Eventually, Kyle got to the part where Clarissa and he were sitting on the couch. He started to hesitate, but the doctor reassured him again.

  “Please continue, Kyle. I’m well aware of Clarissa’s sexually aggressive nature. You will not shock me.”

  In spite of the reassurances, Kyle felt reluctant to share the intimate experience, but he supposed the doctor was trying to help. As he continued, Dr. Rutlinger’s eyes conveyed no judgment or amusement—just intense interest.

  At the end of the story, the doctor slowed Kyle down and asked about Clarissa’s final moments. “You say she clawed you and screamed right before she died?”

  Having already spilled most of the story, Kyle felt more comfortable talking about it. “Yeah, but it was more like a howl than a scream. Honestly, it kinda freaked me out.”

  “May I see where she scratched you?” the doctor asked.

  Kyle lifted his t-shirt and pointed to the locations on his pectoral muscles where the fingernail cuts had been. “The marks were here and here, but you can hardly tell where they were now.”

  “So the wounds were superficial? Scrapes, perhaps?”

  “No, I was bleeding pretty well at the time. But within a couple of days, the wounds were completely healed.”

  “I see.”

  Kyle lowered his shirt while the doctor stared at him in silence. After a moment of that, Kyle started feeling uncomfortable. “What are you thinking?” he finally asked.

  Dr. Rutlinger sat back in his chair with what appeared to be a satisfied smile. “Well, Kyle, I have good news and I have bad news. The bad news is that Clarissa probably has passed her condition to you. The good news is that you qualify for assistance from the foundation.”

  Kyle sat in stunned silence. The nightmare apparently wasn’t over yet. Clarissa had infected him with something that modern science couldn’t treat—that modern science couldn’t even detect.

  Wait a minute. This was all starting to smell like some kind of scam. First the cop gives him a card, then some girl comes out of the blue and fills his head with horror stories, and now a veterinarian wants to offer him the assistance of his foundation. What was that going to cost him?

  Kyle stood up and began to pace the room. The doctor folded his arms and waited patiently.

  The more he thought about it, the more convinced Kyle became. “Amanda’s part of this whole setup, isn’t she? She spooks me and you reel me in.”

  The doctor cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Amanda? The young witch? You spoke with her?”

  Young witch? Well, that explains the pentagrams. And the insanity.

  Kyle rounded on the doctor. “She interrupted my lunch the other day, as if you didn’t know. She tried to tell me that I’ll turn into a
werewolf without her help.”

  Dr. Rutlinger nodded his head slowly and then stood. With a sigh he said, “The witch cannot help you. She can only put you in danger. Only I can help you deal with your condition. The foundation has served our kind for generations.”

  Kyle frowned at the doctor. “You still haven’t explained what this condition entails. I hope your story is better than that I’m turning into a werewolf.”

  The doctor took a step closer to Kyle, entering his personal space. “I understand that this is upsetting. When you are ready to calm down and listen, we will talk again.”

  Kyle eased back until the overpowering presence of the man faded. He nodded his understanding, although he had no intention of visiting Rutlinger Pet Clinic ever again.

  The doctor took a note pad and pen from his lab-coat pocket and bent over the exam table. He wrote down what looked like a date and an address, and he handed the piece of paper to Kyle. “The foundation is having a party this weekend. Come see for yourself what we are about, and I will answer all of your questions. Now I have patients I must attend to. Have a good day.”

  The doctor opened the door to the examination room and walked out, leaving Kyle standing alone in the room holding the piece of paper. Kyle was tempted to drop it in the trash can next to the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Unlike Amanda, the doctor at least seemed sane. So far, anyway.

  Kyle stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket and headed back to the waiting room. The first thing he needed to do was get out of that clinic. Then he was going to make an appointment with a real doctor and get a second opinion.

  One nice thing about living in a small town was that it was usually easy to get a doctor’s appointment on short notice. Kyle was able to see Dr. Basile, his regular physician, the morning after his visit to the pet clinic.

  Dr. Basile gave Kyle a regular checkup and prescribed some medication to help him sleep, but found nothing obvious wrong with him physically. The doctor ran a full blood panel and said the results would be back in a day or two. That might tell them more, but the doctor warned Kyle that they were testing only for specific things that might or might not relate to his sleeping difficulties.