N/A: ALLO, EVERYONE! I've been working on this one for a while, and I think it turned out pretty good! If no one reads it, I won't continue it, and if you don't REVIEW then I won't know you've read it!
Karissa: *bored voice* yes you would. You just have to check the traffic for this story.
CrazyCross: Ahem! I was not aware of that (lie). Still... REVIEW! I LIKE REVIEWS!
Karissa: Just be nice to me, and don't make my life complicated. I hate complications.
CrazyCross: Uh... about that... *fidget*
Karissa: ...You already made my life complicated, didn't you? Gee, what a great friend you are... *leaves*
CrazyCross: *running after her* No, wait! If I made your life as simple as daisies or a bed of roses, it wouldn't be interesting! *looks back at nonexistent audience* Enjoy, REVIEW!

CHAPTER ONE

The barking was what woke me. I opened my eyes to the darkness of my bedroom and the warmth of my dog Keeper across my legs. The whole bed vibrated with the force of his growl. The barking didn't come from him, but from the kennels at the back of the house. I could hear each individual bark-Goliath the Great Dane's deep woof; Chester the Beagle's yapping bark; Willow the Whippet's shrill yip. The most annoying was RaRa the Toy Poodle. That scrap of a dog was named for the distinct sound of her bark, which sounded (annoyingly) like rah-rah-rah-rah-rah! It hurt my ears just to listen to it, and thanks to all the barking going on, I couldn't hear what had caused them to bark in the first place. I groaned as I dragged myself out from underneath Keeper and sat on the edge of my bed. I pulled on my house shoes and shuffled out of my room. Keeper followed, a near-silent shadow.

I went out to the kennels and growled at the dogs. They quieted down as they recognized me, their barks reduced to soft growls and snarls. Willow paced, her eyes and teeth glinting in the pale light of the full moon. I closed my eyes and listened, searching for what had so upset the dogs. They were normally well behaved, giving only a yap or two before going back to what they were doing. It must have been something big to rile them up so badly.

Keeper whined quietly, begging to be given the command to search out what threatened his mistress (me). I set my hand on his sleek head, calming him. I wouldn't send him until I knew what was out there. I froze as I caught the scent of wolf. At that exact moment, I heard the soft brush of paws against the grass. I dodged aside a heartbeat before those massive jaws would've closed on my arm.

I dove to the ground, rolled, and came up with my hands up and my fingers hooked into claws. With anyone else, this would've looked incredibly stupid and useless, but for me, it was how I defended myself. You see, I am not like normal thirty-two year-old women-I'm a werejackal.

I slashed at the wolf with my lengthened claws as it tried to attack me again. It yelped, surprised that I had fought back, and then gasped with pain as Keeper locked his jaws in its left hind leg. I slashed at it again, growling and showing my fangs. I couldn't see the wolf well in the darkness, but its fur was pale-maybe white or a light gray or brown. Its shoulder and face were dark with its own blood, the liquid gleaming in the moonlight. It backed up, shaking Keeper off its leg. With a glare at me, it turned and fled. Keeper made as if to go after it, but came to me when I snapped my fingers.

I pointed to the kennels, "Keeper, guard," I commanded. He padded over to the cages and stood with his silky-furred ears alert. I studied his perfect profile, tinged with silver by the moonlight. He was the ideal representation of the Saluki breed, a type of dog that originated in Persia and the other Middle East countries. I had found Keeper injured and near death in the woods behind my first house back in North Carolina. I'd nursed him back to health, and when no one had claimed him, I claimed him as mine. When I had moved to Tennessee, I had brought him with me. He had been my loyal companion ever since.

I dragged myself from my memories and went into the house to get my shotgun. It was loaded with silver bullets-you can never be too careful. I came back outside and sat next to Keeper, who sank down next to me. He set his slender head on his paws and heaved a huge sigh. I stroked his head and kept my ears perked, so to speak. The dog in the kennel I was sitting in front of came to lick my arm through the bars of the cage. It was Chester, the Beagle. He whined, still worried about the wolf. I stroked his muzzle and scratched him between the eyes.

"Calm, little boy. I won't let the big bad wolf get ya," I soothed him. He flopped down next to the wall of the cage near me. I felt his fur brush against my back. I could hear the other dogs settling down to sleep, calm now that I was here. I stayed there until the sun rose, just in case the wolf came back. Keeper went to sleep, obviously not worried about the wolf returning. Not sharing his confidence in that matter, I was still sitting outside the kennels at 6:30 in the morning. The sun was barely visible through the trees when I staggered to my feet and tottered inside. I left Keeper to guard the dogs, knowing that he would alert me if anything happened.

I went back to my room, got dressed, and went into the bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, getting rid of sleepy breath. When I finished, I stared at myself in the mirror. The woman in it stared back. I took a moment to study myself.

I had dark, dusky brown skin and inky black, baby fine hair that rippled over my shoulders. My left eye was dark brown, almost black. The right was pale, icy blue. Very creepy at first, but people got used to it. My face was angular, foreign. Of course, I was half Egyptian, on my mother's side.

My mother had been an immigrant from Egypt, and only sixteen when she had me. When I was three months old, she gave me to an orphanage. She told the orphanage workers that my father had been a white man with blue eyes-thus the two different eye colors. My mother had barely known any English and had been staying with a few friends in the mountains. Two weeks after she left me at the orphanage, she was found dead, supposedly mauled by a bear. The orphanage raised me until I was three, when a young couple whose last name was Chime adopted me. William and Mary Chime took me in and named me Karissa. Karissa Chime.

They loved me and cared for me, even when they found out I could turn into a jackal (technically, a Side-striped Jackal). They kept my secret from everyone and treated me like their own child. But then it all changed. See, the reason they had adopted me is because the doctor said it was unlikely that they would ever have children. Too bad (for the doctor) that two and a half years later, Tawni was born.

Tawni had William's blond hair and green eyes. She was adorable from her very first day, charming everyone in the maternity ward. While I repelled, she attracted-whether it was parents or boys. The only thing I was better at was school. Well, school and animals. Tawni, by the time she was in middle school, hated me with a passion I don't think I deserved. But that was after the other two were born.

Next (a year after Tawni) came Aaron. He had Mary's black hair and chocolate brown eyes. He was my favorite, my adorable little brother. He never shied away from my eyes or my ability to turn into an animal, not like the other two always did. He was my minion, my partner in crime. If something in the house was broken, it was me and Aaron. Tawni was jealous of our easy companionship and the third sibling just hated to be associated with me.

The third sibling (man, was that doctor screwy) was also a girl. They named her Patricia. She had a frosty kind of beauty-still beautiful, but without the cuteness or the cheerfulness to make her likable. She had the same blond hair as Tawni and pale, golden-brown eyes. She was tall and slender, more willowy than Tawni. She never accepted me, and would have told everyone about my secret, if it hadn't been for her worrying about what others would think-about her, not me. She was self-centered, her personality so cold it had icicles growing on it at an alarming rate (har har). She was the main reason I got out of that house as fast as I could. She may have been four years my junior, but you'd be surprised at how mean kids are nowadays.

While William and Mary never snubbed me, they spent most of their time with their kids. I only got in the way, so I mostly kept to my room or stayed out of the house altogether. My only friends were Keeper, the other animals I cared for, and Aaron. Aaron kept me sane. When I needed to rant about something, he was there. Boy problems? He listened, even beat up the guy in question if I wanted him to. A bad grade got me depressed? He showed me his own grades. It made me feel much better. In return, I helped him with homework and gave him advice about girls (learned from listening in on Tawni, the little cheerleader). I loved my little brother, and it hurt me to leave him in that house. By the time I left, he was a junior in high school. I haven't seen him since I left, but I chat with him on the phone and the Internet. We've even written letters. I send him pictures of my new friends (and the occasional boyfriend) and he sends me pics of Tawni with gum in her hair (put in there by my adopted niece, Tawni's little brat). He's the only thing I miss about North Carolina.

When I left, I moved to Knoxville, Tennessee. I had been accepted at the University of Tennessee. I went there for six years before I graduated. After that, I worked at a veterinary clinic for three years. Fully licensed as a veterinary doctor, I opened my own clinic. It has been going well for five years now, six in the fall. I had only a few people working for me, close friends. They kept it interesting.

That reminded me... I dragged myself from my musings and ran a hairbrush through the bird's nest I call my hair. I never put on any make-up-the animals didn't care. I took a deep breath and went out to my car. I would leave Keeper with the dogs although it wasn't likely for the wolf to come back in the daytime. It would just make me feel better. I drove from my house in the county into the city. The traffic was a little bad at this time in the morning, when everyone was going to work. At exactly 7 o'clock, I pulled into the parking lot of Wind Chime Animal Clinic. I unlocked the back door and went into my office. Time for me to check on the animals we were keeping for observation.

First came the kitten who had broken his paw falling (or jumping? He was very adventurous) off the roof of his owner's house. He mewed at me, his adorable blue eyes begging for me to let him out and explore the clinic. I stuck my finger into his cage and let him chew on me. He kept up a rumbling purr the entire time.

"You'll be going home today, Coal," I told him fondly. What a little rascal. I moved on to the dog, a Yorkshire Terrier. Hers had been a routine procedure. I had only kept her to make sure that the incision didn't get infected. She would be going home as well. I let her lick me a bit before moving on to the next animal, an old black cat that had been hit by a car. He was lying at the back of his cage, his body limp and his eyes dull with pain.

"You doin all right in there, Furrball?" I asked, sniffing at his cage. It didn't smell of anything but cat and the medicine I had put on his wounds. Most of his injuries had been broken or crushed bones. Those were healing, but he lacked the will to even try moving around. He would stay with us a while longer until I was satisfied with his progress. I got fresh water for them all and gave them more food. For Furrball, this meant hand-feeding. I got enough food down him and then went to wash my hands. When I went back to check the schedule for the day, my veterinary assistant bounced in.

When I say "bounce," I do literally mean bounce. Cheyenne Hall is probably the most bouncy, cheerful person I know. She's small and rounded, a people person. She has round cheeks and twinkling blue eyes like sapphires. I've never seen her frown unless someone was dying. When that happens, she cries like a baby, no matter if she knew the person well or not. Everyone likes Cheyenne, and Cheyenne likes everyone. She was good with people and animals, and she knew how to deal with both of them.

I grunted a reply to her hyper "Good morning!" I collapsed in my office chair, shuffling through the papers on my desk.

"How's Furrball doing?" she asked, peering over my shoulder to see what I was doing. I frowned and set the papers down.

"I don't know why he's so listless. I do everything I know to do to keep him interested in life, but he just ignores me. Sure, he's healing fine, but even if his body's perfectly healed, it won't do him any good if he doesn't care!" I exclaimed, baring my teeth. Cheyenne nodded sadly, her smile smaller but not gone.

"You'll think of something-you always do," she said confidently, bouncing over to her desk. I ignored her and resumed checking my schedule.

"What are we doing today?" she asked after a moment.

"First off is a neutering at 8:30, and after that is a couple of regular checkups with annual vaccines. Patches at 10:25 and TabbyCat at 11:50. After our lunch break is another neutering-this one at 2:30," I flipped the paper over and looked on the back, "That's all for today, but tomorrow's going to be busy."

Cheyenne made a noncommittal noise and started doing paperwork. Have I mentioned I love Cheyenne? She's the only one of my employees who will willingly do paperwork-hers and everyone else's. I smiled at her and turned to look at the back door as I heard a familiar car pull up. I hopped out of my seat and went to stand at the top of the wooden stairs leading to the back door.

"The old girl actually started up this morning, Mark?" I called to the lanky teen getting out of the old, rusty Honda.

"Ha ha, very funny, Kare!" he called back, slamming the car door. He had to, because that was the only way it would close. His car only started on about three out of seven mornings; today must've been a good day.

Mark Abernathy is a tall, skinny eighteen year old with a mop of curly, red-gold hair and a whole mess of freckles. He works at the clinic as my minion/errand boy/pooper-scooper/janitor/dog walker. I've known him since he was five-in fact, he was the first person I ever met in Knoxville.

It was when I was just moving into my new house. Keeper and I were carrying the last of our luggage into the house when I heard a loud crack from the back yard. I rushed out there to see what had happened when I looked up into a giant oak tree to see this tiny redheaded kid pretty high up. He'd just broken a branch and was hanging by his hands alone. I hadn't spotted him but for a heart beat before his grip slipped and he fell. I was already running forward before he hit the ground. I stopped next to him, grimacing at the awkward angle his leg was bent at. I noticed the welling blood beneath his head.

"You alive, kid?" I asked him softly, knowing already that he was still living and breathing. I have good ears.

He groaned, "Mooom..." he whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut.

I looked at the house that he had been playing behind-my neighbor's house. I went to the back door and knocked. The woman who came to the door was only a few years older than me and had long, copper-colored curls and bright green eyes. I saw Ireland in her face. This must be the boy's mother.

"Ma'am, your son is hurt!" I growled, "Call the ambulance while I try to stop the bleeding!"

Yeah, looking back on that conversation, I can admit that I wasn't good with people. I'm still not.

"WHAT?" she screeched, grabbing the doorframe. She stared at me, "Who are you?"

I'd frowned at her, "I'm your new neighbor."

Ah, first impressions.

I ended up riding in the ambulance with little Mark, whose leg was broken in two places; he also had a deep cut on the back of his head (from where he'd landed on a rock). His mother had to go pick up her daughter (and Mark's older sister) from school, so I got stuck with taking him to the hospital. I didn't mind, so much-I had nothing better to do. So I told Keeper to watch the house and hopped in the back of the ambulance. I ended up having to hold him still while they set his leg. Afterwards, I stayed with him and told him funny stories to keep him occupied while they stitched up his head. When his mom got there, I got up to leave but was stopped by his hand grabbing my sleeve. And so my first best friend in this new place was made. After that, we were inseparable. If I didn't have Mark on my shoulders, he had his arms wrapped around one of my legs and was hanging on for the ride. We did everything together, and when he grew up (A.K.A. turned eighteen), he started working for me. So here we were. End flashback.

"I don't have anything for you to do around here. Will you hop back in that clunker and go get me some breakfast? I was a little pressed for time this mornin," I asked him, leaning casually on the wall next to the door.

He gave a dramatic sigh, "Really? I have to try to get it to start again?"

I grinned at him, "Of course, you could always take my car. If you ding up my car at all, though, I'll kill you with a smile on my face."

"I believe you!" he laughed, holding up his hand, "Keys?" when I tossed them to him, he asked, "Cheyenne and Melissa want anything?"

"Missy's not here, but I'll ask Cheyenne," I said before sticking my head back inside, "Hey, Cheyenne! You eat breakfast this morning?"

"Yeah, cuz I'm a morning person, unlike some people," she drawled, flopping around in her reclinable chair.

I growled at her and turned back to Mark, "She says she doesn't want anything. Ever. Never bring her any food again, no matter how much she begs."

I could hear her from inside, "Now wait just a minute-!" I gave a burst of evil laughter, just as my final employee, Melissa Everhart, drove up. She jumped out of her car seconds after it had stopped moving and took the stairs two at a time to tackle-hug me. That was when the excited girlish squealing started. Oh, I wasn't the one squealing. That sound is beneath my dignity.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" I growled, grabbing her shoulders.

"I'm getting married!" she screamed, bouncing up and down, her short brown hair flying all over the place. "I'M GETTING MARRIED!"

My ears were ringing as Mark joined us at the top of the stairs, "For real?" he exclaimed. Cheyenne burst out of the back door, screaming, "No way, no way, NO WAY!" By this time, I was fairly sure my ears were bleeding.

"Dear Lord in Heaven, Melissa!" I shouted, "Stop screaming!"

Then the waterworks started. First Cheyenne started to cry, and then Melissa had to start. Mark went down those stairs faster than I believed possible, "I'm gonna go get your breakfast, Kare! Congrats, Melissa!"

Smart boy. Lucky boy, to be able to get out of the middle of the two crying women. I tried to get away, but they grabbed me in a group hug and kept me there against my will. I could hear the sound of Mark peeling out of the parking lot in my car. Stupid boy. He'd better not ruin my tires.

"Karissa, you just have to be my maid of honor!" Melissa was screaming/sobbing. I jerked with surprise.

"What?" I exclaimed, "You want me to be what?"

"And Cheyenne," she continued, ignoring me, "you have to be a bridesmaid!"

"Oh, dear!" Cheyenne garbled through her tears of joy, "You've made me so happy!" thus ensued more crying and laughing, sure signs of insanity.

I tried to return this to order, "Who's the guy?" I asked, "That man you've been seeing for the last while? What was his name? Derek?"

She bobbed her head in a nod, "Yes, Derek Hendrick, love of my life!" she cried dramatically. I gave a disgusted grimace.

"He's the luckiest man in the world!" Cheyenne told her, giving her another hug.

"Um, excuse me? Sparky's here for his appointment? Am I late?" came a voice from behind us. I turned to see a lady holding a leash connected to a dog that, despite barely being out of puppyhood, was huge.

The dog-Sparky-growled at me. I bared my teeth at him in a smile-or, at leas it would look that way to the woman, "No, ma'am, you're right on time. I'll walk with you around to the front, if you don't mind." I practically jumped down the steps to join her. I gave Sparky a scratch behind his ears and led her around the side of the building.

"Was I interrupting something?" she asked worriedly.

"On the contrary, you just saved me from about ten more bone-crushing group hugs and more squealing," I told her joyfully, a spring in my step. "I'd much rather deal with animals than newly engaged women and their weepy friends."

The woman laughed, "I know how you feel. I'd much rather be around animals too."

We only had three emergencies that day, and none of them were fatal. That was a good day, in my book. And we only had two more outbursts of tears-even better. Several people came in to get medicine for their pets, and one person brought in some kittens that someone had dumped in their driveway. I cleaned them up and let them run around behind the counter. One climbed up Mark's back and made us all crack up. Mark looked up from where he was cuddling that one, his eyes pleading.

"Can I keep it?" he whimpered pitifully, giving me the puppy-dog eyes.

I raised my hands in a defensive pose, "That's not my call, Mark. You'll have to ask your mom about that."

He pouted, "She'll say no."

I shrugged, turning to a customer, "That's your problem. May I help you, sir?" I frowned at the man. He looked familiar.

"I'm here to pick up Melissa," he told me, peering behind me to smile at the kittens.

"You're Derek, right?" I asked. I swear, you could probably see a light bulb pop up over my head.

"That's right," he said, turning his smile to me, "You must be Karissa. Missy's told me a lot about you."

"Good things, I hope," I mock-growled at Melissa as she came out of the back room. She squealed when she saw Derek and tackle-hugged him. I grinned, "Take off, you two, and take the lovey-doveyness somewhere besides my clinic."

"Bye, Kare! I'll see you tomorrow!" Missy called over her shoulder as she left, hand in hand with her fiancee.

Cheyenne sighed, "Oh, to be young and in love..."

"You're younger than me, old woman," I grumbled, picking a kitten up out of my seat before I could sit down.

"It's not fair, though! You look like you're twenty! I look... middle-aged..." she shuddered. I laughed again, even though I knew she was right-at least about me.

I hadn't aged since I turned twenty-one. Oh, sure, I kept counting the years so I knew how old I really was, but I was pretty sure I was going to be twenty-one forever. Cheyenne didn't need to know that, though.

"You look like you're thirty, which you are. Now stop complaining and go home."

She snapped a salute, "Yes'm! Going home," she hopped up, grabbed her bag (she had to get a kitten out of it) and went out to her car. Mark followed her, setting down his kitten before he opened the back door.

"I hope my car starts," he muttered.

"I'll keep my fingers crossed, but don't get your hopes too high up," I told him. He finished my familiar saying.

"I know, I know... If I don't get my hopes too high up, they won't have far to fall," he grinned at me before closing the door, "As if I haven't heard that a thousand times."

"Insolent pup," I muttered, stroking the kitten I held, "Can you believe him? Talking back to his elders like that."

"Mew?" the kitten squeaked, digging its little claws into my pants leg. I grinned at the little ball of fluff, "I guess you guys are coming home with me. I hope you don't mind dogs."

"Mew!"

The wolf didn't come back that night, which was probably a good thing, seeing as I couldn't have stayed awake for more than a few minutes after I got home. I put the dogs up, fed and watered them, and locked the kittens in my washroom (pronounced "warshroom" in this part of Tennessee). The washroom had linoleum floors, which was definitely preferable to the carpet in the rest of the house. The kitties complained as I left them by themselves, but I ignored their pitiful cries. I have a hard heart.

Or maybe not. Keeper liked his new companions, and when I left them locked up, he turned his puppy-dog eyes to me. While I had stood firm before Mark's puppy look and the kittens' cries, I have never been able to refuse Keeper anything. I groaned and went back to the washroom.

"Okay, but only one! You hear me?" I growled. Keeper frisked along beside me as I went back to get one of the kittens.

It is a sign of how perfect his puppy-dog look is that I ended up sleeping with all five kittens that night, tucked into various curves and crooks of my body.

For the next two months, everything went as usual. Furrball healed wonderfully, going home to his family as spunky as he was before he got hit by the car. Amazingly, no animals had to be put down or were killed or died of their injuries during those two months. It wasn't until the third month, August, that something bad happened.

It all started out normally. In fact, it was normal until the very end of my workday. I had just finished removing the rest of a cat's tail. His owners had removed most of it themselves when the cat's tail was nearly severed by getting closed in a heavy door. The wound had gotten infected, though, so it was up to me to remove the diseased part of the tail and disinfect it properly. I ranted at the stupid owners and told them I was keeping their cat for the next couple of days to make sure it was healing okay. They were at least worried for their cat, so I didn't kick them (physically) out of my clinic. I kept my anger in check, merely glaring at their car as they pulled out of my parking lot. Cheyenne and Melissa had already left for the day, and Mark was heading out the door when a car screeched to a stop in my parking lot. Two big, brawny men jumped out and ran to the back of the car. I watched with fascinated horror as they got the pale wolf (I now saw that he was the color of a golden retriever) that had attacked me out of the trunk of the SUV. The wolf was bleeding horribly and unconscious as they carried it up the front steps and kicked the door in. I was up on top of the main counter, my hackles up and my teeth bared.

"What is the meaning of this?" I growled, keeping my voice low. I kept Mark behind me, protecting him with my body.

"We need your help, ma'am," one man growled back. His blue eyes were sincere as he looked up at me, "He's hurt real bad. Can you help him?"

I reluctantly turned to look at the wolf. He was riddled with bullet holes; I was shocked that he still lived. My ears didn't lie, though-I could hear the labored beating of his heart and the soft rasp of his breath. Despite the fact that he had threatened my dogs (and me), I couldn't leave an animal in pain. I motioned the men back to the room where I did all the major surgeries. I snapped out directions to Mark, which instruments I needed, where to put them, and such. He was quick in getting what I wanted, not questioning the fact that the creature on my table was no normal dog. It was a werewolf.

Mark knew what I was, and I'd told him (for his own safety) that there was more in the world than he would ever know. Werewolves were one of those things. I hadn't met any in this city, but that didn't mean they weren't here. I'd known a few of them back in North Carolina, but they'd mostly left me alone. I was pretty sure that was because none of them had ever smelled a jackal before-my kind is not very common in the United States. I wondered why these wolves (for they were all werewolves, even the ones in human form) had brought this injured one to me. Did they know that I was a werejackal?

I was drawn from my musings as the injured wolf woke with a vengeance. He caught me with one of his sharp claws before I realized he was conscious again. I growled and leaned over him, my teeth bared, "Stupid wolf," I snarled viciously, "I'm stronger than you right now. Listen to me. Lie down and stay still."

He immediately subsided, lying perfectly still. The other wolves stared at me in shock. I ignored them and set to work removing the bullets from the wolf. None of them were silver, but they were all very painful. I should know-I've had my fair share of gunshot wounds (you'd be surprised how much a jackal looks like a coyote when it's an angry farmer doing the shooting). Once I had all the bullets out (there were ten of them), I started disinfecting the wounds. He whimpered in pain, the first sound he'd made. I felt sorry for him, but sorry heals no wounds. Once I had everything as clean as I could get it, I stitched up the wounds that needed it and bandaged the ones that didn't. I turned to the men who'd brought him in.

"Now will you tell me what happened?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

The taller man answered, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't. Thanks for helping the Boss, though."

I sent the wolf on my table a speculative look, "So he's the Alpha, huh? Then tell me, why exactly was the Alpha of your pack running around as a wolf. Behind my house. Terrorizing my dogs, to boot." With each word, I glared harder at the wolf. He kept his eyes closed and his head on his paws-the perfect innocent look.

The man who had answered me rubbed the back of his neck, "I don't rightly know, ma'am. I'm sure he had a reason."

I snorted, "Right. Well, now that I've patched the holes someone else put in him, get him out of my clinic."

The man nodded. He looked at the other before they both moved to lift the wolf. He didn't make a noise as they carried him out of my clinic. I watched them leave and then turned to stare sorrowfully at my broken door. They hadn't even paid me.

"Well, shoot," Mark whistled, "What was that?"

I cursed the wolves again before turning to answer him, "Those were werewolves. The holy one paid me a visit a month or two ago, the night before Missy got engaged. I scared him off, and he hasn't been by since then. I wonder who he pissed off?" I kicked the broken pieces of my door, "Stupid wolves. You owe me a new door!" I yelled after their retreating vehicle.

Mark smirked at me, "What are we gonna do about it?" he asked, amused about something.

I glared at him, "You are going to my house to take care of my animals while I stay here and guard the shop." Without another word, I turned and went to the bathroom to strip and shift. When I scratched on the door, Mark let me out. I padded into the waiting area of the clinic, shaking to settle my fur. Mark scratched me behind the ears and left.

With a low growl, I curled up on the floor in front of the door. I was glad the nights were still fairly warm. It wouldn't be like that for too much longer. I yawned: taking care of a werewolf really takes a lot out of ya. With a big sigh, I relaxed and went to sleep. It didn't last long, though. Right in the middle of my dream of chasing a squirrel, I woke to the sound of a car pulling into my parking lot. I rose to my paws, the fur along my spine standing up and my tail fluffed out to twice its normal size. I peeled my lips back from my teeth to expose my impressive fangs as a werewolf in human form got out of the Chevy Silverado and carried a brand-spankin' new door up to my front entrance. I stopped growling at the sight of the shiny new door.

The man laughed, "Happy to see this, eh, girly?" he grinned at me. I yipped, spinning around as if chasing my tail. Boy, was I ever so happy to see a door. Especially one I hadn't had to pay for.

I tipped my head to the side curiously. Why were the wolves replacing my door so quickly? I had expected I'd have to sniff them out and annoy them until they paid for a new door. The man answered me.

"Boss told us you were open tomorrow too, even though it's Saturday. Told me I'd need to come fix it tonight or early tomorrow morning, before you opened up," he scratched his beard, "I'm not a morning person, so I thought I might as well get it done tonight. That work for you?"

I hopped up and down, tail awag. He took that for a yes and started working. I watched avidly as he removed the last bits of my old door and fixed the bent hinges. The werewolves had really done a number on my door. The werewolf who was fixing my door introduced himself as Hank, and outlined all of what he was doing, which screw he was using for my new hinges, the type of wood this door was made of, that sort of thing. I think he did this because, in my current form, I can't make any more noise than a yip or a howl. It was kind of a one-sided conversation.

"What kind of canine are you, anyway?" he asked me at one point. I turned to the side and licked my vivid black and white stripe down my side. He frowned, "You ain't a coyote... Not a fox either..."

Jackal! Side-striped Jackal, you fool! I wanted to howl at him. I sent him a cold stare and pointedly turned my back on him. I wasn't going to change just so I could tell him what type of animal I was. If he was too stupid to know, well, he could just go Google me. He laughed at me and finished up the door.

"Well, that's done," he sighed, wiping his brow. "I'll be seeing you later, girly."

Girly? Was that my nickname now? Oh well... I lifted a paw and half-waved at him. He laughed again and hopped in his truck. He honked once as he pulled out of the parking lot. I snorted before going back to the bathroom (where I left my clothes) and changing back to human. I dragged on my clothes and locked up my new door before getting in my car and driving away.

I pulled into my driveway and parked my car, locking it before stumbling into the house. I smiled to see Mark asleep on my couch with Keeper on his feet and the two kittens I had kept curled up on his chest and head. Mark was snoring softly, both the kittens (whose names were Butterfly and Raven) twitching in kitten dreams, and Keeper's paws moving in running motions. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. It was a very comical sight.

I snuck past them and into my room. I got into my PJs and curled up on my bed to go to sleep. I didn't have to worry about the dogs-Mark knew his way around my kennels. There were new dogs in my kennels now, not the same dogs as when the wolf had come by the first time. I could hear them snoring, just like everyone else in the house. I grinned to myself as I drifted off.

The next morning, I woke up at my usual time (6:00) and went to wake up Mark and the others. Mark had shifted during the night; now, he was laying on his belly with one kitten draped over the back of his neck and another one in the small of his back. He had kicked Keeper off sometime while he was rolling over, and Keeper hadn't come back. I found him in the kitchen, curled up on the rug by the sink. He opened one chocolate brown eye and thumped his thin tail when he saw me. I smiled at him before going out to see to the dogs. He didn't follow.

All the dogs were fine. I fed them, watered them, and let them out into the front yard. They were still a little sluggish from sleep, but they started playing, chasing each other with happy barks. I smiled at them before heading back inside the house. Just as I came in, the phone rang. I glared at the shrilling contraption.

"What now?" I muttered, stomping over to pick up the phone. "Hello?" I growled.

I was met with sobbing. I couldn't recognize it at first, but then I heard a familiar hiccup in the midst of the sobbing. I frowned.

"Tawni?" I asked, "Tawni? What's wrong?"

"Ka-Karissa! Aaron's... Aaron's missing!" she choked. I dropped the phone. I could still hear her sobbing as I scrambled to pick up the phone again.

"What?" I snarled, "Aaron's missing?" I heard Mark yawn, then yelp as the cats dug their claws into him. It would've been funny if I hadn't been about to cry, "How long has he been missing?" I asked.

"Thr-three days..." she mumbled, still crying.

I growled louder, "Why didn't you call me?" I could almost feel her flinch.

"I-I didn't think..." she stuttered.

I ignored this, merely muttering, "I'll be there by this evening." I hung up.

"Your brother's gone missing?" Mark asked, worry in his voice and in his eyes. He held the kitten he called his close to his face, snuggling into the soft fur. I nodded.

"I'm leaving now. Have Cheyenne call and reschedule all the appointments today. We didn't have anything big today anyways," as I spoke, I went through my room, shoving everything into a bag that I could carry with me. Keeper had gotten up from his rug and was following me around, picking up things I dropped in my haste. Mark was using my phone to call Cheyenne, who had been awake for an hour and a half now. They would take care of everything; I could go to find my brother and not worry about anything. I loved my people. I looked down at Keeper, who held my toothbrush gingerly in his mouth. I loved my animals, too.

Mark looked up from where he was talking with Cheyenne to give me a concerned look, "Cheyenne says to be careful, and tell your mother 'hi' for her," he told me. "I'll take care of the dogs, and Cheyenne and Missy'll watch the clinic, so just go. If anyone can find him, you can."

I smiled at him, tears welling in my eyes. I hugged him, "Thank you." I called louder for Cheyenne to hear, "Thanks, Cheyenne!" I heard muffled sobs and choked words that may have sounded like, "Welcome." Or maybe "Delsum." I don't know.

I ran outside, Keeper with me. I would have told him to stay and take care of the dogs, but I doubted the werewolves would bother my place again. At least for a while. So Keeper hopped into the passenger side when I held the door open for him. I waved at Mark before getting in and starting the car. We peeled out of my driveway and kept going at a good clip down the road. I wouldn't speed (at least not too badly) only because I might get pulled over and then it would take me longer to get there. I was going to find my brother, and I was going to find him as soon as possible.

I was going back to North Carolina.

CrazyCross: DUN DUN DUUUUN! XD Did ya like it? Remember, I'm not writing any more unless I get at least 5 reviews!
Karissa: ...You already wrote three more chapters before you even put this one up.
CrazyCross: *clutches chest in pain* You're mad at me for being mean and giving you a tortured past, aren't you? T.T
Karissa: *ignores* Remember to REVIEW, so that she can make my life fun and uncomplicated again. *turns to CrazyCross* Hey, am I going to get a boyfriend?
CrazyCross: *in a singsong voice* Maaaaaybeee... ~