Personal Demon (Otherworld 8) - Page 60

"I'm just saying..."

"Elena's sense of smell is better than mine in any form."

"And you admit it?"

"Only because it isn't a skill I care to excel in." A pause. "But you're right. I should Change."

"I was kidding, Karl. I know it's not like snapping your fingers--"

"No, I should. I'm already overdue."

"Ah, that's why you've been so grouchy."

"Yes. It has absolutely nothing to do with you."

I spun but only got a view of his back a split second before he closed the bedroom door. He'd want privacy for his Change and that wasn't vanity. I'm curious about many things, but witnessing the human-to-wolf transformation isn't one of them.

"I'm going to try picking up visions," I said. "So try to keep the screams of agony to a minimum, okay?"

A muttered epithet. I grinned and walked to the sofa.

HOPE

THE SCENT OF TROUBLE

While Karl Changed, I worked on summoning chaos visions. To automatically detect chaos, it has to be strong--either very recent or very chaotic. To find more, I need to pop up my antenna by concentrating. The problem is that then I get too many signals, all competing for air time in my brain.

I caught flashes--a raised hand, an angry shout, a muffled plea--with no context to place it in. Having Karl Changing in the next room didn't help. There was no chaos from it--pain doesn't count unless it's accompanied by an emotion, and Karl was beyond that. Still, I knew he was undergoing something agonizing, to help me, so I couldn't stop feeling twinges of guilt.

Finally there came the noise I'd been waiting for, the bump-bump of Karl moving around the bedroom, sniffing. After a moment, silence. Then a grunt of canine frustration.

I walked to the bedroom door...and laughed.

"Problem, Karl?"

A black nose appeared at the narrow opening of the almost-shut door. He tried wedging his muzzle into it to fling it open, but couldn't get leverage. Another grunt, annoyed now. The nose withdrew. I could picture him sitting on his haunches, out of my sight, pondering the predicament.

"If you scratch at the door, someone will probably let you out."

A huff.

I pushed open the door. Karl was sitting exactly as I'd pictured him. He fixed me with a look, then stalked out.

Before I met Karl, I'd wondered what a changed werewolf looked like. Not an all-consuming topic of curiosity, but I had wondered. I'd heard stories, but no eyewitness accounts. I had my curiosity satisfied that first night.

Admittedly, having little experience with wolves, I'd thought he looked like a big dark-haired dog. Later, I'd found a picture of a black wolf with snow on its muzzle, giving the photographer an imperious "I most certainly was not playing in the snow" glower. The wolf--and its expression--reminded me so much of Karl that the picture now hung in my home office. He hated it. Threatened to abscond with it every time he visited, but of course, he never did.

Karl worked his way around the apartment with his nose to the floor. Not wanting to hover, I went into the living room, sat cross-legged on the floor and concentrated.

After a few minutes, a vision came that I hadn't seen before--a spray of blood. Heart hammering, I pulled back from the vision, took a deep breath, then chased it, trying to untangle it from the other threads. Finally, by concentrating on just that image, I was able to tug it to the forefront.

I struggled to pull my mind's eye away from the blood and see the rest of the scene. The screen was very small, focusing only on the event, as usual. Blood sprayed. Then, in the next iteration, I made out a flash of motion. Then a flash of flesh. Finally, a flash of fist. That was it.

The blood came from a punch, maybe to the nose, not even a hard punch at that, the spark of chaos coming from surprise. A playful jab that made contact? Sonny and Jaz goofing around? A previous tenant? I couldn't see either actor, but whatever the explanation, this wasn't a truly chaotic event.

Karl walked behind me, so close his fur tickled my neck. I leaned back and he stopped, letting me rest against him. We stayed like that for a moment. Then he pressed his cold nose against the back of my neck, making me jump, and gave a growling chuckle before moving on.

"Not getting anything?" I asked.

Tags: Kelley Armstrong Otherworld Fantasy
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