by C. T. Adams
Chinese? I took a sniff and suddenly understood. She related to emotions the same way as me . . . by comparing them to things I could understand. To me, fear smells like hot-and-sour soup. I wished there was an easier way to break this to her. She seemed like a nice kid. “You’re starting to be able to smell emotions, Liz. That particular one is fear. It smells good, doesn’t it? Hard to keep from trying to find the source. Makes your stomach growl.”
She turned to stare at me and her eyes got wide as her stomach did, indeed, growl at that moment. Lucas figured out what I was doing and joined in. “You’re swallowing a lot now, aren’t you? And your nose is trying to follow, which is why your head keeps trying to turn. Like walking past a bakery with fresh bread filling the air. Your kind doesn’t normally find such large game compelling, but you’re not precisely . . . normal anymore. And frankly, I don’t know exactly what you will need to eat.” He paused meaningfully. “Tonight. When the moon is full, and you shape-shift into a very large and possibly feral badger. The same as you did last month—during the tornado. That’s why we’re here, Liz. It wasn’t the storm that destroyed the water tower. It was you. What did you eat last month at this time? Can you even remember?”
She was backing away from us now, shaking her head, panic and confusion plain on her face. But there was nowhere to go. Lucas was easing off on the shield he had over me and himself, letting magic fill the air. It wasn’t helping the fear level of the others any. Paul didn’t move quickly, possibly understanding how that would be seen. But he was so ill right now that his scent wasn’t particularly appealing.
Heather, however . . . she started to twitch and make abrupt small movements that said she was about to bolt. Liz couldn’t seem to take her eyes from her friend, her muscles spasming with each twitch. “You’re all insane.” The moment her mouth opened, though, the drool that slipped down her chin gave her away. Heather saw it and shrieked. When she did that, the scent of fear doubled and a low, hungry growl came from my throat, even though I was stuffed full of steak. A flick of her eyes my way didn’t help calm Heather. She dove from the room.
I didn’t want to follow. I swear. I don’t hunt humans. But that sudden movement, combined with the fear, was just too much without Lucas’s shield. Blood filled my vision and a snarl erupted from deep in my chest. What I found weird was that Lucas didn’t try to stop me. What was his plan?
Then it didn’t matter anymore because I was across the room, pushing Liz out of the way to get through the doorway where the cat had gone. The new turn didn’t push so easily, though. A flare of light, the color of a rainsoaked sunrise, flashed out and then she was on me, pushing me to the ground. We shattered the coffee table in the process and magazines scattered into the air. A shard of glass six inches or more across slashed into my back. I was pretty impressed with Paul, because all he did was lift his legs out of the way, as though we were two unruly toddlers tussling underfoot. The girl’s brute force was amazing. It was like having a brick wall fall on me, and the sound that erupted from her was vicious and keening, a counterpoint to my deep snarls.
Seconds later, our hands were raised with simultaneous intent to harm the other when time froze . . . and so did we. I’d had it happen more times than I’d care to count, so I just relaxed and waited. Liz, on the other hand, freaked . . . out. All she could move were her eyes and they were twitching and straining against whatever invisible force held her. Her aura roiled and spiked, seeking escape from the bubble. Then, to prove his point, I guess, Lucas released his hold on me. Just me. I was able to crawl painfully out from underneath her, my breath coming out in small gasps. I hoped the glass hadn’t hit a lung. I’d had worse before, but breathing is something I’ve learned to enjoy.
Soon she was perched in midair, one leg fully off the floor, along with the opposite hand. It was still curled into a claw with powder-pink nails pointed right at where my face had been. Her face was twisted into a snarl, teeth bared, and her neck and shoulders were bent forward like either a vulture on a fence, or a gargoyle on a building ledge. I let Lucas slowly pull out the shard and managed to keep the wincing to a minimum. But man that stings! Then I moved over to stand on the tiled entry, where I wouldn’t add any more blood to the carpet. She continued to battle against something she’d never defeat all the while.
The Wolven chief wiped my blood off his hands then leaned over and sopped up the excess dripping down my shirt with some tissues he grabbed from a box on the end table. He eased back into the couch cushions and continued to hold the lasso of blue-white magic tightly around her while he watched her struggle. When she’d finally settled down, a minute or more later, he spoke, his voice calm, almost soothing. “Do you understand now, Ms. Kendall? You are Sazi . . . as much animal as human now. Magically born and tied forever to the phases of the moon. Can you see why it’s vital that you be trained to handle these new abilities and emotions?” Liz’s eyeballs rolled up and to the side until mostly white was showing, to be able to see him. She blinked once, with effort. He acknowledged that small movement with a tiny smile. “Now, I’m hoping that attacking my associate was because you felt protective of your friend. Defending a human while under stress would go a long way toward the council’s approval of you having some limited independence after your training. Just don’t lie about your motives. You won’t be looked at harshly for your motives at this stage. But lying changes your body chemistry. Other Sazi can smell it, and you could be punished. So before you’re asked later, think carefully and be honest with yourself. Sort out your exact thoughts while you were charging him. Was he an enemy, attempting to harm your friend? Or . . . and this is something you’re going to have to consider long and hard . . . was he a potential meal?”
Paul sighed and turned in his chair to face his daughter. “I know all this seems impossible, Lizzie, but you needed to understand why I called these men to meet you. You’re nothing if not like me—hardheaded. You have to see something to believe it. You probably don’t remember, but even though your mama never turned, she . . . felt all the same things you are right now, each and every full moon. And your grandfather in London does turn. Now, I truly believe you don’t have a dangerous thought in your head, sweetheart. But you see just how fast that all happened? It was seconds. There was no time for thought. It was pure instinct, just like during the storm last month. Can’t you see the blood where Mr. Davis was lying? You would have killed a regular human if there’d been nobody to stop you like Alpha Santiago just did.
She stilled completely then, taking her father’s words to heart. Her eyes dropped to the carpet. The blood was starting to dry at the edges, adding a rust color to the vivid red on the pale tan pattern. Heather peeked out from the doorway, apparently noticing it had gotten quieter. She flinched a little at her friend’s position and the blood on the floor, but she handled it pretty well, considering.
Heather bent down sideways from the waist until she caught Liz’s eyes. She smiled brightly, her scent filled with oranges and cookie spice. “Wow, Liz! You are amazing. Thank you so much for trying to stop him. That goes way above and beyond the call for a roomie. You’re the best.” Then she stood back in the corner again, probably staying as far away from me as possible.
Rather than just dropping her abruptly like he’s done to me more than once, Lucas released Liz slowly. She was able to get her arm and leg under her before she did a face-plant onto the floor. But even after she was free to move, she wasn’t precisely . . . free to move. He kept a thin tether on her, the lightest touch, just so she’d know he was there. She did, and it made her rub her arms like they were cold every time she glanced at him.
She turned to me after staring at the bloodstain for a few long moments, and was close to tears. “I’m really, really sorry, Mr. Davis. That wasn’t like me. I swear. But when you—” She paused and flicked her eyes toward Heather before returning to me. “I’ve always had a temper, but this was—” She just shook her head, unable to continue. Her eyes closed and she wr
apped her arms around herself, withdrawing inward to let it sink in until she could deal with it. Her remorse was obvious from the thick, misty scent of fog in the air and lasted until her father put a comforting hand on her leg. It apparently helped a little, because she was able to stop shaking and look up again. “And here you are, standing bleeding like a stuck pig when we should be getting you to the hospital for stitches.”
I held up one hand. “It’s okay. No stitches required, and no apologies necessary. My fault entirely and don’t worry, I’ll heal. That’s one really good thing about this whole magical, shape-shifter crap. We heal really fast. By nightfall, you’ll never know I was hurt. For the record, I don’t think I would have hurt your friend and I know Lucas wouldn’t have let me. I normally have pretty good control over myself, so I’m a little surprised I went into chase mode. I don’t eat people.” I locked eyes with her and then raised my brows. “I don’t think you do either.”
She went a little green, with eyes moving toward the stain of red and then back to me. “The thought of meat right now makes me nauseous, frankly. At least the blood blends in with your dark hair enough that it’s not noticeable, but you need different clothes before you leave here. People will definitely talk in this town if you walk out with blood on you.”
All four of us looked at her oddly, but for entirely different reasons. Heather was the first to voice it. “Um, he has blond hair, Liz. And the red shows up really well.”
Liz blinked once, looked at me again, and then looked to her father for confirmation. He nodded. “Pale as your brother’s when he was little . . . a regular towhead.”
Heather started to speak again when Lucas held up a hand. “Describe the two of us, Liz. Tell me what you see. Nobody coach her.”
She seemed uncertain now, her fingernails tapping a staccato on her jeans. “Well . . . Mr. Davis must have an Italian mother, because he’s medium height, with dark hair and a sort of broad nose. Early thirties, I think. Oh, and sort of blue-grayish eyes. It’s hard to tell from here. And lots of muscles. You must work out a lot.” I nodded as Heather stared at me again before rubbing her eyes in disbelief. In fact, the soured milk smell of disbelief was pretty thick in the room about then. I was thinking that everybody in the room was bleeding it out their pores.
Then she turned to Lucas, and even I was surprised at what she said. “You’re Native American, but I can’t really tell from which tribe. Probably in your late twenties. Dark hair, dark eyes, bronze skin—the whole package. Might even be a little Mayan in your heritage. There was one guy in school my junior year who was Mayan, from way up in the Andes, and you sort of have his nose.”
The seconds ticked by and Lucas remained silent. He didn’t confirm or dispute the claim, which sort of answered it as far as I was concerned. The girl could see through illusions. I’d heard of that from Bobby, but it was one of those really, really rare gifts . . . like my hindsight. In fact, I didn’t think anyone alive had it right now. That made her extremely dangerous, because illusion magic is the stock and trade of the Sazi. Especially Wolven and the council. Unless they drafted her straight into Wolven . . . but a lot of that depended on temperament. She might not be suited. I know more than one Alpha who isn’t law-enforcement material. It only works with me because I came out of being an enforcer for Carmine, and the rules of the Sazi aren’t all that different from the mob. They hate it when I say that, but it’s true.
At last the big guy spoke, his voice flat and firm. I wasn’t surprised at what he said, but it obviously wasn’t what Liz wanted to hear. “You’ll be flying back to Boulder with us today. We’ll get you on your way to England to train as soon as the full moon is over. I’d suggest starting to pack if you want to take your own things.”
Her hands went to her hips and the hazel eyes were flashing pink-gold fire. It was sort of cute for the few seconds the fit of temper was going to last before Lucas choked it off. “Uh, hello? I don’t think so. I’m leaving tomorrow for the coast. I have interviews for an apartment. Fine, I won’t travel at night. I’ll find some cave or something to hide in for a few days a month. But I’m not going to Boulder, or to freakin’ England! I don’t do flying, and I don’t even own a passport.”
It made me smile, because it sounded a lot like me when I’d first found out about the shifting stuff. But eventually I was going to have to watch that bright spark of enthusiasm and . . . spunk get crushed into cracker crumbs.
Well, heck! What better time than now? I held up a pair of digits. “Two problems with that scenario, kiddo.” I lowered my middle finger when she turned to face me. “First, you can say you’ll lock yourself up and not go out at night, but it won’t work that way. Let me regale you with the tale of shredded doors, broken windows, and hunting ducks at the petting zoo someday . . . with a bonus interview of what duck bones and feathers feel like coming out the other side. I can’t imagine that typical badger food of mice or prairie dogs will feel any better.”
She and Heather both made a face. “Eww—”
I lowered my index finger until I had a nice tight fist before I dropped it on top of the other arm crossed over my chest. “Second, you remember that nifty trick Santiago did, holding you motionless? Guess what? He can make you walk even better. Been there, done that. He’s just offering you the courtesy of going under your own power. But trust me, if he says you’re going, you are. And there’s not a person in this town who won’t believe that you got in our truck completely willingly—with a smile on your face.”
She paused to consider that and looked again at Lucas like she couldn’t quite believe it. I saw the rope of magic increase just a bit and then her hand rose to the top of her head of its own accord, while she stared at it in panic. She even grabbed the arm with her other hand to tug it down, but it stayed firmly in place.
I shrugged. “Any more questions?”
Heather leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “Like I said . . . these guys are scary. My cousin has told me stories that would curl your hair about one of the female big cats. She’s French and gets a kick out of pain.”
I heard a sigh and turned my head. So did the girls. Paul had been watching Lucas the whole time, apparently. Probably trying not to watch his daughter get her lessons. That can’t be fun for a dad. “Wolven specializes in tracking down shape-shifters who break the law, Lizzie. Sometimes they have to get rough. Just like our own police.”
“But we don’t get a kick out of pain.” Lucas stood up and walked over to the girls, releasing Liz’s arm as he did. He put a fatherly hand on Heather’s shoulder and looked at her with real concern. “I’m sorry that the only stories you’ve heard of us are bad ones, Heather. While it is a difficult life to lead and the secret of our existence is a heavy burden, our only real goal is to live in harmony with the rest of the world. People don’t know we exist because we can live in harmony that way. It’s the reason for everything—the Sazi council, where we set down laws so we don’t impact humanity, to Wolven and even individual groups that are ruled by leaders we select. It’s the promise we’ve made to our people and we’ve stood by it since the dawn of civilization.”
Liz had her head cocked and was listening closely. I could also see her nostrils flare as her animal took the measure of him. Whether or not she realized it. “You’re not kidding. That really is what you want.” Then she shook her head. “But you’re only one man. Who’s to say that’s what all your people want?”
Spunky . . . and sharp. Good combination. He ought to snap her up before someone else does. “Lucas here is the head of Wolven, the law-enforcement branch. But until he took over the post, he was the councilman for the wolves—the top dog, so to speak. He may not be able to tell you what every person in every species wants, but he’s fully capable of making them keep the promise. The kind of power he’s got is legendary. He says jump, we ask how high—snakes, cats, bears, birds. And wolves, of course. All of us.” Well, most of us do, and even I know it’s not a very bright idea to flat refuse him
something. She looked at me curiously, not quite sure what to make of what I said. “Think of your having even met him in your lifetime as being sort of like meeting J. Edgar Hoover while investigating a local crime scene back in the fifties. It could happen, but it’s damned rare.”
He shrugged it off modestly, even though I knew why he came. Still, his scent didn’t betray anything other than the baking-bread scent of concern. “I was in the neighborhood. Joe’s right, though. What I say, goes, so long as it’s within the rules the council has set down. And one of the rules is that we keep new turns, and those around them, safe. The storm kept you occupied last month on your first turn, Liz. But what about this month? Are you willing to risk your family, or your friend here, if something went wrong? It’s high stakes. You’re gambling with their lives until you’re better equipped to handle the change.”
I didn’t get a chance to hear her answer because all of a sudden the vault door in my mind slammed open, throwing me to my knees with either a grunt or a scream. Hard to say which, but with my luck, I was probably screaming like a little girl. I can’t remember if I grabbed my head and pressed or if it was the magic that made it feel like it was locked in an ever-tightening vise. I must be locked in Sue’s head, rather than Ahmad’s, because everything was dark and there was an incessant beeping in the background, along with whispered conversation I couldn’t make out. My throat hurt, but I couldn’t seem to move my mouth to swallow, so I was betting they had in a breathing tube now. It’s not a good thing when they have to do that. Means the body is shutting down, unable to breathe by itself.
To hell with Kansas and the new turn. I focused inward, trying to find Sue’s mind while I still could. You’d think that was an oxymoron. After all, I was in her mind, so how could I not find it? But not so. I was in her body. Brains are big places when you’re looking blindly for where a person in a coma might have hidden themselves to escape the situation. Was she lost in her memories, or trapped in her own pain center, too hurt to focus? It was sort of like searching for a black cat in a dark room. You’re looking for small and furry, and near the floor is the likely spot. But not the only one. I tried the likely spots first, near the vault door I was visualizing and near where I could hear voices.
