Page 15 of Bad Medicine

I hit the gas and sped out ofthe Pocket, bucket of chicken between my legs. “Mad because you got fucked upby a few women, Joe?” I grinned, then took a bite of a drumstick. “Or becauseyou’re too sore to eat some chicken?”

“Both,” he admitted.

I laughed. “I’ll drop you atthe emergency room so you can get that nose set.”

“No. I’ll set it myself. Thismight put you off your chicken.” He was smugly pleased with that idea.

But nothing could put a wolfoff her food when she was hungry. I munched my way through him blowing hisbloody nose into his shirt and then cursing his way through realigning his poornose. I did flinch a time or two at the sounds, but a broken bone or two wasn’tanything new to me.

“Max will tend you as soon aswe get to the office,” I told him, as I sped toward the city. “You okay?”

He seemed to perk up at themention of Max and his potential tending. “Yeah.”

I decided to tell him about theshapeshifter later, when Max and Lucy were there. That way I wouldn’t have torepeat it. Besides, Joe was feeling like shit, and the shapeshifter story couldwait.

By the time we reached theoffice, his nose was absurdly swollen and black bruises spread under both hiseyes. His entire shirt was bloody, and there was a gaping hole where he’d beensliced up.

We attracted a few shocked andhastily averted stares as we made our way across the sidewalk and into thebuilding, but Joe was just fine until we entered the waiting room, which,unfortunately, was half full of patiently waiting clients.

“Fighting ghosts,” I said,waving airily. “We’re okay.”

And the second Max leaped upfrom behind his desk, gaping, Joe suddenly found himself just about unable tostand up. He slumped against the wall, his hand to his abdomen, and groaned.

Max rushed to him, beratingboth Joe and me at the same time, and draped Joe’s arm over his shoulder.“You’re going to get him killed,” he hissed.

“Where are you going?” I asked,as he “helped” Joe away.

“Um, to your office? To cleanhim up and wait for the paramedics?” He jerked his chin at the waiting humans.“You deal with your clients. And no, I won’t do whatever it is you’re about toask me to do.”

Joe took a second to grin atme, then moaned liked a demented ghost and practically collapsed atop poor Max.

I rolled my eyes and turned tosurvey the crowd. “All right,” I said. “While my partners are otherwiseoccupied, I’ll be taking your stories. Who was here first?”

A large man with a bushy redmustache and thin hair raised his hand. “I got here about two hours ago.”

“Damn,” I said. “Okay. I’ll getyou first. But I need to make one quick call and wash the blood off my hands.Can you give me ten minutes?”

He shrugged. “What’s ten moreminutes?”

“You need to get a second ghosttender in here,” a woman called.

“Yeah,” I told her. “I agree.”Then I went to the washroom to clean up and call the detective. By the time thepolice got there, I was hoping that Robby and his granny would have time tothink about their stories.

Rick didn’t answer, but hecalled me back as I was attempting to clean spots of blood off my shirt. “Idon’t have a lot of time,” he said.

“That makes two of us. Listen,Rick. I just left the Pocket.”

He only sighed.

“There’s a female named Tammyburied in the back yard, and she was killed by a shapeshifter. Your guys aregoing to want to look at the old lady’s grandson, but he didn’t kill thevictim.”

“Shapeshifter.”

“Yeah. They’re extremely rare. Isaw him on the video footage—which I took out of the home. A shapeshifter canmake himself look exactly like other people, living or dead. It made itselflook like Robby Albert and killed and buried a woman in the back yard.”

“He doesn’t possess people?”

“Nope. That’s a demon.Shapeshifters morph into whole new physical appearances.”