Triple Cross

by Tymber Dalton

  “Love.” She met Elain’s gaze, and her flinty grey eyes suddenly jogged Elain’s memory.

  Fiona. The little girl she’d helped the jaguars rescue from Rodolfo’s compound in Montana. She’d had those same eyes.

  Rodolfo’s eyes.

  Somewhere in the woods behind them, Elain heard a noise, like an animal stepping on a stick. She turned to study the trees behind her, and when she turned back, Mercedes was gone.

  There were three bare spots in the dirt corresponding to where the rocks had lain. The two were off to the side, where they’d been tossed. The third lay in the dirt in the center of the grave where Mercedes had dropped it.

  Elain stared at her leather work gloves. No fresh dirt on them.

  Eyes squeezed tightly closed, she tried to control her breathing, to keep from hyperventilating.

  I did not just see that. I imagined it. It was in my mind.

  She opened her eyes and found herself alone.

  The rocks were still displaced.

  Before she lost her nerve, she hurried and moved the rest of the rocks. Then she grabbed the shovel and gently started digging.

  Four feet down, Elain stopped using the shovel and dug with her gloved hands until she found a brown, stained scrap of fabric. She’d been able to smell decomposition soon after she started, and now a thick wave of it blew past her, nearly making her forget her purpose. Gently she cleared more dirt away until she had the woman’s torso uncovered.

  The jaguars had buried her with her arms crossed over her chest and covering the ragged and fatal wound there. They’d also removed the branch that killed her. Elain stood and reached for the tarp and duct tape, which she dragged into the hole with her. Working carefully, she finally got Mercedes’ body encased in the tarp, securing it with several wraps of duct tape.

  She tossed the roll of duct tape out of the grave.

  Okay. Now what the hell do I do?

  Working alone, there was no way to be gentle or tender about it. After taking a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around the corpse’s upper body and pulled, pushing it up the wall of the grave, until she had her hands under what would have been Mercedes’ ass.

  “Sorry, lady,” she grunted as she gave a hard shove.

  It was enough to get the upper half up and over the edge. Elain grabbed the legs and, with a little jump, got them pushed up and out. She tossed the shovel out of the grave and climbed out, collapsing onto the dirt.

  She had no idea how long she’d been at it, but she belatedly realized she forgot to bring any water or food with her. Gauging from the sun’s position, it had to be close to noon.

  I’m an idiot.

  And now she smelled like rotting wolf-atrice corpse.

  Fuck.

  No way in hell she could put the body in the trunk of her car. Not only would her car reek of it, her men would smell it as soon as she returned home. And she didn’t want to just leave the body here and go find a truck to rent or borrow.

  The first order of business was to refill the grave. Working quickly, she shoveled dirt in, dumping branches and brush into the hole as well to help take up some of the missing space. When she finished, she retrieved the rocks that had outlined it and tried to put them back as close as possible around the grave.

  It wasn’t exact.

  Now what?

  She’d have to improvise.

  If the MythBusters can make a goddamned boat out of duct tape, I can figure something out.

  And, after a few minutes, she did. She hunted down some more branches and used duct tape to lash them under the tarp-shrouded body. It wasn’t a pretty setup, but it would, hopefully, last until she could drag the body back to Lacey’s.

  Another flash of insight, and she removed her belt and wove it through the branches at the head end, securing it with more duct tape. Then she slung the shovel over one shoulder, grabbed the belt with her other hand, and started walking.

  Now she was exhausted, thirsty, and hungry, in addition to really stinky. As she plodded through the woods, her instinct guiding her back to Lacey’s, she realized she had no freaking idea why she was doing this, other than the thought had occurred to her.

  I. Am. An. Idiot.

  No, she realized that wasn’t true. But it did scare her that here she was, a journalist, now dragging a woman’s body through the woods.

  A body which had been safely concealed, by someone else and in no way tied back to her, on private land.

  In the middle of a huge, desolate forest.

  And now she’d dug it up to rehome it.

  Reinter it?

  “Hello, Elain.”

  She was too tired to even flinch when she heard the man’s British voice speak up from behind her.

  She kept plodding forward. “Hello, Ryan.”

  “May I ask a rather stupid question?”

  “Sure. Go for it.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking a nice stroll through the woods.”

  “Yes, it would seem that you are. Did you know there’s a dead body following you?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Ryan, looking bemused, walked a few paces behind Mercedes’s feet. “Huh. Whaddya know about that. Wonder where that came from?” She faced forward again and continued.

  “Uh, Elain?”

  She finally stopped. “What?”

  He walked around the body to stand in front of Elain. “It’s not often I come upon someone walking through the woods and dragging a dead body.”

  She shrugged. “You should get out more often.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her.

  “What?”

  He continued staring at her.

  “I’m enjoying a walk in the woods. That I have a dead body in my possession is totally irrelevant.”

  “Most authorities would disagree with you.”

  “Yeah? Well, do you see any around here? We’re on wolf Clan land.”

  He let out a sigh and held out a hand for the shovel. She finally handed it over. Then he reached out and grasped her other hand, the one holding the belt.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  She did. She felt a sense of vertigo wash over her.

  “All right,” he said.

  When she opened her eyes, she found they were in Lacey’s backyard.

  “I’m guessing this was your destination?” he asked.

  Numb, she nodded as she tried to process what had just happened.

  Ryan let go of her hand and planted the shovel into the ground. He started rolling up the sleeves of his light blue chambray shirt.

  “Now then. Where do you want her?”

  “How do you know it’s a her?”

  “Is that not Mercedes?”

  “How long were you watching me?”

  “Long enough.” He grabbed the shovel again. “Point where you want her.”

  She stared at him. “Why are you helping me?”

  “Because it would be unchivalrous of me to not assist a mother-to-be who is in the process of moving a body.” He smirked, finally pulling a laugh from her.

  “Under the sundial, please.” She started to walk up to the back porch to get a drink of water when she turned. “Not to sound ungrateful, but if you were watching me, why’d you make me drag her that far? You could have come help me dig.”

  He was already moving the sundial from its base. “I wanted to see how dedicated you were to this venture. Besides, I didn’t know what your original plan was, at first.”

  She froze. “Did you see me talking?”

  He nodded.

  “Who’d you see me talking to?”

  “I didn’t see so much as I sensed.” He tapped his temple with a finger. “Sort of my bailiwick, you know. Souls that don’t wish to move on and should.”

  “So I was talking to her?”

  “You were talking to someone. Whether or not it was Mercedes I cannot accurately tell you as o
f yet.” He made a shooing motion. “Go get some water and food in you before you are ill. And might I suggest a shower and a change of clothes?”

  She sniffed her shirt. “Yeah, guess I am kind of ripe.”

  He smiled. “That is an understatement.”

  It was tempting to shoot him a bird, but she decided against it since he was doing her a massive favor.

  While inside, she also took a moment to call home. Fortunately, her mom answered the phone, so Elain was able to keep the conversation short and sweet and, even better, lacking in details. After promising her mom to call back later that evening and talk to her guys, she grabbed herself a quick shower, a snack, and downed a couple of glasses of water before dumping her filthy clothes into the washer and starting it.

  By the time she returned to the backyard, Ryan had already moved the sundial, the stones at the base, and had a good start on digging the new grave.

  “Am I crazy?” she asked.

  “We are all crazy in our own way,” he answered.

  She felt a little guilty he was doing all the work. “Do you want me to see if there’s another shovel anywhere around?”

  He straightened and looked at her. “Elain, do you not think if I wished for you to dig that I couldn’t simply snap my fingers and pull one out of thin air?”

  Her eyes widened. “You can?”

  “I brought us here without breaking a sweat.” He pointed down at the tarp-shrouded corpse. “And her.”

  “Oh.” Her knees felt a little weak. “Yeah, I guess you did. Sorry.”

  He smiled. She wondered if he had any trouble charming women into bed. If it wasn’t for her mates at home, she knew she wouldn’t hesitate to jump into the sack with him if he asked.

  “Quite all right, love. I don’t suppose Lacey has anything stronger than water in there, does she?”

  “How much stronger?”

  “The highest proof she has, preferably.”

  Elain found the cabinet where Lacey kept the liquor and brought a tall glass of ice and a bottle of bourbon out to him. “How about that?” she asked.

  “Perfect.”

  “How much?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  She laughed and uncapped the bottle, filling the glass before handing it to him. He drained it in several swallows before returning it to her. “Hit me again, barkeep.”

  “I guess booze doesn’t affect you guys the same way it does us, huh?”

  “Barely. And believe me, I’ve tried over the eons, much to the dismay of my liver.” He drained that glass, too, and set it aside before he started digging again.

  She sat on a stone bench near where Ryan was digging, the bourbon bottle clutched to her. “What did you mean you couldn’t tell if it was Mercedes I was talking to? Does that mean you couldn’t tell who I was talking to, or that you couldn’t tell if it was really Mercedes or maybe something that looked like her?”

  He turned, a wry smile on his face. “Very astute. The latter.”

  A chill washed through her despite the warm afternoon. “So it might not have been Mercedes?”

  “There is that possibility, yes. What do you think?”

  “Oh, no no no. No you don’t. I’m the newbie, sensei. It’s your job to lead me through the minefield.”

  “What does your gut tell you?”

  She thought about it for a moment. Deep inside her, the Alpha lay curled up. Still, but attentive.

  Definitely not on alert. “That it probably was her,” she said. “But I don’t know why I think that. I know Lina saw the ghost of Maureen there for awhile.” She thought about it. “Is this a pregnancy kind of thing? Seeing ghosts? Lina was pregnant with the Beasts when she started seeing Maureen, I think.”

  “No, I believe it’s a Seer thing. Sort of inherent in the whole name of the gig.” He playfully smiled.

  She blew a raspberry at him. “Thank you, by the way,” she said as she pointed toward the grave and the body and circled her finger in the air, indicating them.

  His expression turned serious. “Elain, things I’ve seen and done throughout the eons, many of them I’d never wish on my worst enemy. You and I might play different sports, as it were, but we’re controlled by the same…let’s call it an ownership cooperative.”

  “So you can help with some of the training and back end crap, but I’m on my own at bat? And vice versa?”

  He grinned. “I’d prefer to be the baseball team. I think you’d be better at rugby.”

  “Hey!”

  “That was a compliment, not a criticism. Wolves, in general. Much more obvious game. If you prefer, ice hockey.”

  “Why do you get baseball?”

  “Lots of standing around, but when the action hits, it hits hard and fast, followed by lots more standing around. It is the nature of the beast.”

  She couldn’t help it. She liked him.

  And not just because he was digging the grave for her and had saved her a few hours more walking time.

  “Maybe you guys are cricket and we’re baseball.”

  He stood still for a moment, leaning on his shovel. “You know,” he finally said, “I do believe that’s a rather apt metaphor. Very well, I shall represent the cricket team, and you shall represent baseball.”

  “So why not tell Mai and me that you have the real Tablet of Trammel?”

  She gave him credit, he had a hella good poker face. “What are you talking about?”

  Smiling, she toed the fake Tablet, which lay facedown with the other pavers that had formed the sundial’s base. “That is another fake one. That night you and Lina left together, you brought her here, didn’t you?”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  “Nope.” She tapped her temple. “As you said, Seer gig.”

  His brow furrowed, his expression darkening for a moment. “Yes, well, I think after we finish this, you and I should sit down and have a rather long talk of our own.”

  “Kind of like the talk you and Lina had that she wouldn’t tell us about?”

  He let out a sigh Elain felt to her very core. “Perhaps you are the one I should have had the talk with in the first place.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t want top billing. I’m fine with Lina the Goddess having that honor.”

  “Who says she does?”

  “Isn’t she our version of Baba Yaga?”

  He laughed. “Not quite.”

  “She’s the oldest. And she can do the”—she waved her fingers at him—“fire and ice juggling act.”

  “That means nothing. She’s been with her mates for a couple of years longer than you have. That gave her more time to explore and discover her powers and learn how to refine them. She’s still in relative infancy, however, regarding them.”

  He studied the grave, adjusted his digging angle a little, and scooped another shovelful of dirt out of the hole. “All three of you will have powers beyond your current ability to comprehend. Together, I can’t even begin to fathom what you’ll be able to accomplish. But don’t mistake her early blooming, as it were, for superiority. Each of you will have your own specialties.”

  Chapter Two

  Aliah lay stretched out on her bed in the crappy hotel room and flipped through the ancient book yet again. Plenty of magick between its covers. Some of it accessible to her, some not due to the ancient language.

  In her hands she held what she knew could amount to a whole lot of money.

  But she wanted more. She wanted answers, for starters.

  Once she had them, she suspected she’d want vengeance.

  It’d been over two weeks since the night her husband and his cousin, Gerry, had brought the book to the hotel room before heading out again in search of the woman they thought was behind the debacle in Yellowstone. The woman who, impossibly, seemed to be half-wolf and half-cockatrice, judging by her scent.

  Maybe even the woman of the old rumors they’d both heard in their youths. A woman they thought was nothing more than legend.

  She lai
d a palm against her stomach. The only thing she had left of her husband and mate—their baby growing inside her. Now more than ever she needed to find a way to secure her future, and his. Or hers. Although her instincts told her it was a son, and the men in her husband’s family almost always sired boys.

  Seeking help from her own family wasn’t an option. They’d told her they’d kill her on sight if she ever darkened their door again.

  And she knew beyond any doubt that they absolutely meant it. She’d refused to marry someone of their choosing. Had married for love instead of for the line.

  Had married outside their nest and against their wishes.

  She hadn’t even had a chance to tell her husband about the baby. She’d suspected she might be pregnant, after years of hoping for one, but hadn’t confirmed it. She was going to tell him after he returned from his trip with Gerry. By her best guess, she was over two months along.

  She’d thought Cameron was better, stronger, smarter than any half-breed bitch. He’d come back to her after everything went tits-up in Yellowstone, so why wouldn’t he come back to her that night, too? Especially when he had a shifting cousin with him?

  While she still held out hope, the realist in her told her he was likely dead. She’d tried his cell phone all the next day, with it going to voice mail after several rings.

  When it started immediately going to voice mail, she knew the battery had died, or it had been destroyed.

  He wouldn’t not call her. Not without warning her first. In all their decades of marriage, he’d never simply disappeared without a trace.

  Worse, she hadn’t got a good look at the cousin’s car. She thought it was blue, an older sedan, maybe, but beyond that didn’t know. Cameron had left her their truck, something she was now extremely grateful for.

  The thought had crossed her mind of trying to make it back to Georgia. Maybe a little petty robbery of back-road stores to get the cash, but that was too risky to try by herself.

  She closed the book and laid it aside. She was quickly running out of options. She’d managed to earn a little cash working as a housekeeper at the hotel, enough to pay for the room every day and have a little left over for food, but not much else. Damn sure not enough to get her back to Georgia. She barely knew Cameron’s cousin Paul, the one who let them stay on his hunting property. Definitely didn’t want to tell Paul she thought Cameron might be dead.