Chapter Seven

Jeanne made it another block when she felt the limp in her leg fading. She kept flashing back to the alley and the wolves coming to her rescue. Horror filled her again at the realization that she'd been sleeping with a bloody werewolf. If it had ever been a full moon, she would have been in serious trouble. Looking up at the moon now, she saw it was a few days shy of being full. Okay, now she was in trouble. Apparently they could transform at will.

Again, Jeanne thought back to the two wolves in the alley. They'd been gorgeous but lethal at the same time. And somehow, the doctor knew the other one had been a she-wolf. Terrified as she was, Jeanne couldn't help admiring what they had, what they were. She still didn't want to see Tony, though. If he turned on her . . .

She wished she were home.

...

"So, Ziva, what do you want to do now?" asked Tony as they walked along the dark street. They had passed the alley and were nearing the cross-street.

Ziva started to reply, but ended up tasting the air as a tailwind sprung up, carrying with it the scent of death and Chris Nixon's own particular smell—wood, dust, and soap. Mostly soap. She halted and whispered harshly, "Tony, you were right. Chris is following us."

"Please tell me you're— Hang on, I think I've seen this movie."

"You're kidding me."

"No, I'm not. Haven't you ever seen Teen Wolf?"

"The movie or the TV series?"

"The movie. Wait a sec—they made it into a TV series?"

"Sure. Haven't you seen the previews while watching Magnum P.I.?"

"Come to think of it—"

"Why are we even having this conversation? Shouldn't we be concentrating on the guy tailing us?"

"You're right. Time to loose the goose."

"What?" Ziva asked, confusion written all over her face.

"It's an idiom," Tony explained. "Lose the tail."

"I'm all for that." Spotting a side street to her left, Ziva added, "Follow me."

They swung onto the side street, which branched off onto other backstreets. Ziva tugged on Tony's arm as she dove into a street on the right, then took another turn to the left. Unfortunately, it was a dead end.

The footsteps sounded closer, then stopped, as if Nixon wasn't sure which way to go. Ziva backed up until she felt her back up against something—and it wasn't a wall. The two Shifters waited with baited breath, letting it out when they heard the footsteps recede, as if Chris was walking away.

"You enjoying yourself, Zee-vah?" Tony teased. She jumped; she hadn't realized that she was too close to him and her hands had reached back so she was holding him in place. The Israeli quickly snatched her hands away. Ignoring Tony's smirk, she rubbed her hands on her jeans, then ran a hand through her hair. "Let's get out of here. And for the record, Tony, I was not."

"Right," he said wryly before following his possible—okay, probable—mate.

Luckily, Chris was nowhere to be seen, but his scent lingered in the air. It stayed that way as both walked to their cars. Before Tony could climb in and drive off, Ziva said, "Tony, I think Chris found the bodies. I picked up their scent and it mingled with his. If he finds out what we are . . ."

"You think he killed our dead coke dealer-slash-murderer-slash-victim?"

"Well, Ducky did tell Gibbs she probably knew her killer and he has been following us. I think he was watching us the day we interviewed him."

"This is just great," DiNozzo said sarcastically. "We're working a case on a murdered drug dealer—who the killer thought was a Sifter—while I'm also on an undercover assignment that looks blown, and, oh yeah, the guy our victim last had contact with is probably after us, seeing as he's guessed our secret! Did I miss anything?"

"No, that pretty much sums it up," said Ziva. "Let's talk about this tomorrow, Tony. Oh, try to talk to Jeanne while you're at it—just wait a while. That way this will seem like a bad dream."

He saluted her sarcastically before driving away in his Mustang. Ziva watched him until she could no longer see the red taillights, then drove home for some much-needed sleep.

...

Hours later, she was back at headquarters instead of taking the day off—like yesterday. Abby was waiting for Ziva at her desk, holding a Caf-Pow and Berry Mango Madness in each hand. The forensic scientist handed Ziva the Berry Mango Madness and took a drag on her Caf-Pow. "I found something," she said, setting the Caf-Pow down. "It's amazing how much stuff about werewolves there is on the Internet."

"Could you please not use the term 'werewolf'?" Ziva requested, wincing slightly. "I've heard they prefer the term shape-shifter. If you want to be all technical, call them lycanthropes."

"You seem to really take it personally."

"I read." Ziva shrugged, as if she wasn't bothered. "You were saying, Abby?"

"Oh, right. Anyway, seeing as the bullet that killed Phoebe was almost pure silver—and I'm guessing the knife was, too—and silver is used to kill werewo—er, sorry—lycanthropes, our killer—and I think I know who it is, by the way—probably thought she was one. Although, she said she saw shape-shifters, so—"

"Abby, our dead coke dealer was not a Shifter. Besides, lycanthropes don't exist." It was the mantra Shifters were sworn to repeat. How else could they keep their existence a secret? "You said you found something?"

"Yep. We are finally able to read the emails on the petty officer's computer and I traced the knife wound in her throat. What are you going to be for Halloween, Ziva?"

"That's easy. A ninja," Tony said as he walked into the bullpen, McGee at his heels. "Me, I'm going as—"

"Yourself?" Gibbs suggested, turning the corner with his usual cup of a Marine's lifesaver in hand. "You're scary enough as it is."

DiNozzo shot death glares at McGee and Officer David as they covered their mouths with their hands, trying hard not to laugh. A warning growl rumbled in his throat, but only Ziva recognized it for what it was. To the others, it sounded like Tony was clearing his throat. He shut up when Abby, Gibbs, and McGemcity gave him odd looks, Gibbs and Abby's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Finally Gibbs barked out, "Back to work!"

"Yes, Boss," the team chorused, scampering to their desks. Abby skipped off to her lab, humming "Suffer the Little Children" under her breath. She then switched to another Pat Benatar song, "Hell Is For Children," the team shooting her looks that asked if she was still sane.

...

Dr. Jeanne Bentoit reached for the phone, then snatched her hand back. She knew she had to call Tony to see if last night had been a bad dream, but she couldn't quite bring herself to. There was no way it had actually happened . . . right? She hoped not, but the terror and revulsion had been so real . . .

Of course, she didn't believe in werewolves. They were just make-believe, right?

There was only one way to find out, she told herself with a shrug. Jeanne reached for the phone again, but was interrupted by a "Paging Dr. Bentoit. Dr. Bentoit to the lobby, please."

Well, it could always wait, she supposed.

...

Team Gibbs was once again assembled in Labby, listening to Abby prattling on while Whitesnake's "Still of the Night" was playing. Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva looked mildly interested, the latter two fighting to stay awake.

". . . I was able to find out what type of knife and gun were used to kill our dead drug dealer. The knife is a Bowie, and I matched the murder weapon to a Glock. You find me one, and I can tell you if it was the murder weapon.

"That's good work, Abbs," Gibbs congratulated her as he handed the Goth a Caf-Pow. He then started to leave, along with the rest of the team, but Abby shut the door before they could take three steps. Puzzled, the four field agents looked back at the forensic scientist. Abby had her I-won't-take-no-for-an-answer face on, and Ziva had a sinking feeling she knew what it was about: Someone must have seen them shifting. A moment later, she told herself that was impossible; she hadn't smelled or heard anyone that shouldn't have been there. She could feel Tony's green eyes boring into her; without her knowing it her hand grasped for his.

"Metro PD found a couple of bodies in an alleyway at zero-five-hundred this morning. It was weird, guys. To the officer, it looked like they were attacked by either a dog or a wolf. Of course, they pulled footage from some stores and restaurants nearby and found this"—she tapped some keys on the keyboard and brought up said footage—"which I found interesting. Look familiar?"

Ziva tightened her hold on Tony's hand without realizing it. The images weren't very clear, since it was dark and across the street as well as at a bad angle, but she could make out the shadowy forms that were her and her partner. She thought frantically, Please don't see us shift, please don't see us shift.

Thank God, the camera didn't pick up on them shifting, since Abby had stilled the image and was working her magic. Ziva slowly started backing away, taking Tony with her. She thought at him, If we have to tell someone, we should tell Gibbs. He has a right to know and he won't tell.

Agreed, he replied, squeezing her hand even tighter, which made the Mossad liaison look down at their interlocked fingers. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she made no move to let go.

McGee leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally he blinked and said in surprise, "Isn't that Tony and Ziva?"

"Yeah, I think so," Abby confirmed. "That's also what Metro thought, which is why they sent it to me."

Gibbs fixed his agents with an icy glare. With steel in his voice, he ordered, "My office. Now."

As they walked to the elevator with their boss at their heels, Ziva could feel the former Marine's gaze fixed on her and Tony's joined hands. Her skin grew warm, and she had to let go, struggling not to feel any sense of loss. It was ridiculous; he was right next to her.

The doors closed behind the trio. As soon as it started to move, Gibbs flipped the switch and brought it to a grinding halt. Ziva forced her nerves to calm down as her boss gave bother her and DiNozzo a slow once-over. Finally, he snapped, "Would you two care to explain why you were at the crime scene minutes before the attacks?"

They remained silent.

Gibbs sighed and changed tactics. "Did you see anything, like, a couple of wolves, for instance?"

Ziva exchanged a glance with Tony. He nodded slightly, indicating that she should go first. She took a deep breath and plunged in. "Gibbs, you know Rule Number Four."

"Yeah," Gibbs said warily. "If you have a secret, the best thing is to keep it to yourself. Second best is to tell one other person. There is no third best. You're saying you have a secret?"

"Yes." Again, Ziva decided to take the plunge. She shifted her weight uncomfortable before adding,"We're not exactly human, Tony and I."

Whatever Gibbs had been expecting, that clearly wasn't it. Shock flared in his eyes and he flinched back. Ziva had to admire him even further when his voice didn't shake as he asked, "What are you, exactly?"

It was Tony who replied. "The technical term is lycanthrope, but we refer to ourselves as Shifters. People who don't know any better call us werewolves."

"So you guys were bitten at some point in your lives?"

Tony grinned. "No. It's dumb when they do that in movies. It is genetic. And before you ask, yes, that was us."

Ziva couldn't help thinking that their boss was taking all of this very well. The initial shock must have worn off. She just hoped he didn't have any silver on him.

Gibbs was silent for a few seconds before he said, "You're saying the two of you attacked and killed a couple of innocents."

"It wasn't like that," Ziva protested. "There were three of them and they were mugging a friend of Tony's. We had to shift to save her life!"

Her anger flared when Gibbs had a disbelieving look on his face. She let out a menacing snarl no human could hope to emanate, causing her boss to back up. It took a lot to frighten Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but right now fear shone in his ice-blue eyes. Still snarling, she took a step forward. Tony immediately slid between them and placed his hands on her shoulders. She relaxed as his familiar, comforting scent wreathed around her. If the hands that were currently resting on her shoulders brought her even closer and tilted her head up, their lips would meet and . . . What was she doing thinking of getting intimate with Tony in front of their team leader?

"Are you okay, Ziva?" DiNozzo asked, his green gaze cautious yet concerned at the same time.

She nodded, her eyes still on his lips. Ziva quickly averted her gaze as Tony turned back to Gibbs. Her partner said in a low voice, "We'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this. According to our laws, we're not supposed to be telling any non-Shifter that our kind exists."

The former Marine nodded. "I understand. Now, back to the Madison case." He brought the power back on and opened the elevator doors.

"Yeah, about that," Tony began as he fell in behind the silver-haired fox, "we think we have a suspect. Thing is, he's our only suspect."

"Well, go pick him up, DiNozzo, and take David with you. McGee, with me."

Tim scrambled after his team leader, leaving Abby with all sorts of hits from the '70s, '80s, and '90s. As all four field agents entered the elevator, they could hear the strains of Pat Benatar's "Too Long A Soldier."

...

A little over an hour later, the two Shifters were once again at Chris Nixon's house. He opened the door when they knocked, fighting a yawn. "You two again," he said with a smirk. "You really must not have any suspects." Even though he sounded insolent, Ziva could tell he was wary of them. Tension was radiating off him in waves. She could also smell something else . . . an underlying tang . . . excitement, that was it.

"Well, actually," said Tony, "we were just wondering if you'd let us look around."

Chris hesitated before standing back and opening the door further, inviting the two Shifters in. They stepped inside, eyes searching for a possible murder weapon. While Ziva searched the kitchen (also known as the most dangerous room in the house), Tony asked Chris, "Do you have any guns?"

"Yeah. In my desk drawer. Why?"

But Tony was already heading towards the desk in the corner of the living room. His sensitive nose picked up the smell of a recently fired gun in the upper left drawer. Sliding it open, DiNozzo found a Glock nestled near the back. He looked up at Chris just as Ziva came in with a rusted Bowie knife in an evidence bag. "Is this registered?" he asked absentmindedly, sliding on latex gloves and picking up the Glock.

"Yeah," he repeated warily.

"We're going to bring you with us for questioning," said Ziva, subconsciously herding him toward the front door. Tony was doing the same until Chris was cornered, his back against the door.

He didn't seem to realize the danger he was in, because he leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest and said, "First, let me ask you something. Are you the werewolves I've been hearing about?"