A Shifter's Bodyguard (Pale Moonlight Book 5)

by Marie Johnston

  “They were afraid for themselves,” Harrison hissed.

  “That, too. But while Sylva was talking to them and you were being big bad bodyguard, I was studying them.”

  Harrison mimicked his twin’s position. “And when you were studying them, did you notice how her father treats her mother? That’s in front of people, in front of his own daughter. Did you look at them and think, these are two parents who raised their daughter just for a male they knew would use her?”

  “Yes, idiot,” Malcolm snapped, then dropped his voice again. “And there’s a whole lot more there than meets the eye, but more than that, they’re her parents. The Raymores can’t get to her here. They don’t dare face us. What does that leave two cowards to do?”

  The reality of Malcolm’s insight sunk in. Shit.

  “Do you think they’re safe?” Sylva’s voice was shrill.

  He and Malcolm spun around. She’d probably heard them arguing and snuck out of her bedroom, knowing damn well it was about her.

  Malcolm sighed. “I think we should check on them, yeah.”

  Harrison rose. “I sent word to Demke that they were in town. He was going to see if he could find where they checked in to.”

  “He hasn’t sent word yet.” Malcolm straightened next to him and withdrew his phone from his pocket. “Nothing from Demke. You?”

  Harrison shook his head.

  “While I was sleeping, you all were looking for them?” Guilt and recrimination mingled in her gaze. She gathered herself, squaring her shoulders and adopting her default cool expression. “I’ll call them.” She disappeared and when she came back, her phone was to her ear. “No answer. They only have the one line.”

  Because that would be too much freedom for her mother. “Let’s go.” Harrison was already starting for the door.

  “We can’t leave this place unguarded,” Malcolm said.

  He gritted his teeth. One of them escorting Sylva wouldn’t be enough. There were two brothers, and while Sylva could fight, it was too risky.

  Sylva went for the door. “To hell with the house.” She charged outside.

  As they loaded up, Harrison had to note the level of concern Sylva had for her parents. She was wearing a paint-splattered T-shirt and jeans that had a hole in the knee. Her shoes were simple canvas slip-ons and her hair was hastily tied back in a low ponytail. If it weren’t for her stunning eyes, any shifter in the area would look right past her and not register that it was Sylva from the Synod.

  Malcolm flew down the gravel road to town and Harrison called Demke.

  Demke’s report was dismal. “I gave them some time before I reached out to each motel, but I’ve gotten no reports back that a couple matching their description checked in. I was going to try again, in case they had to check in with the brothers first or didn’t want to pay for an extra night. It’s a pretty poor colony they’re from.”

  Which explained Sylva’s expertise in gardening and preservation. When she was growing up, it had been a survival skill, not a fun hobby. Her mother probably had an even bigger garden and cellar.

  The cab of the pickup was silent as they wove through town, looking for the old beater. The town was small and all shifter, but not a colony. Since it was where the Synod headquarters was stationed, it was full of families and businesses that served the Synod. There were three different motels in town, mostly to house those bringing official business in front of the Synod.

  Once they’d cruised around the third motel, Malcolm headed back out of town. “We can either drive to their house, which is four hours of winding roads away, or go through the back roads around Sylva’s place and search.”

  “We need to search. I can’t go back home and wonder.” Sylva cracked her window and searched their surroundings.

  Harrison did the same. Malcolm drove slower.

  When he turned off the highway, Sylva said, “There are only two other roads that shoot from this stretch.” She was stating the obvious but she was probably worried out of her mind.

  Malcolm took the first road they came to. Nothing but trees lined the road. No other traffic was around, and any other paths going off the road went to residences.

  Backtracking, Malcolm took the second road. Prickles of awareness covered his body. No new scents filtered in, but this had to be it. Unless Louis and Marg had driven through the night to get to Four Claws, they had to be around Tame Peaks, even if they were lingering just outside the city’s limits.

  “Look.” Sylva pointed to a glint of metal up ahead. Malcolm let off the gas even though all of them wanted him to stomp on it and get there quicker. But it could be a trap.

  As they rolled up onto the scene, the sour stench of the brothers became clear. The pickup was parked in the ditch, but it appeared parked deliberately, not crashed.

  Two bodies were inside and slumped over. Malcolm hadn’t parked yet, but Harrison hopped out. He didn’t have to look to know Sylva did the same.

  “Stay behind me.” He held a hand out as if she couldn’t just wind around him and run ahead. But she didn’t. She swept along the road with him and down into the ditch as the smell of blood overwhelmed them.

  They crept up to the vehicle. The brothers’ body odors were there but fading. Her parents were inside the cab, unmoving. Malcolm’s footsteps pounded the pavement as he rushed to catch up.

  He went to the driver’s side and pointed Sylva to go around to the passenger side. When he opened the door, he knew exactly what had happened. Louis was slumped over the wheel and Marg leaned against the door, her head falling forward. They’d each been shot, and since they were so still, the bullets must’ve been silver laced and a direct message to Sylva.

  Sylva’s tears spiked the air. She opened the passenger door and held her mother up. “Alive. Harrison, they’re still alive.”

  “Salt. I need salt.” She prodded at Mother’s body, looking for any and all wounds.

  Mother was cool under her touch, but Sylva sensed her heartbeat. Faint, but it was there.

  Footsteps receded as Malcolm hurried back to their pickup. Harrison pulled Father out like he weighed nothing more than a fifty-pound sack of potatoes, then draped him over his shoulder. As Harrison carried her unconscious father out of the ditch and up to the box of the pickup, Malcolm dropped the tailgate so Harrison could lay Father down.

  Malcolm’s words carried on the wind to her. “Go get her mom. I’ve got this.”

  Relief flooded her. Salt was coming. Harrison appeared at her side, his hands clamping her biceps but not dragging her way. “Let me carry her. We can get them to the healers at the Synod.”

  Yes, the Synod. These were severe enough injuries to require extra help. And her parents would need to be in a place where the Raymore brothers couldn’t get to them.

  She nodded numbly and stepped out of the way. He lifted her mother under her shoulders and her knees and got her out of the vehicle without banging her head. Hours ago, she’d been filled with shame about how scared she’d been to even think about going back to Four Claws.

  But her regret had been misdirected. The brothers weren’t at Four Claws. They were somewhere near Tame Peaks. Using her fear, using her friends, using her family to get to her.

  Rage kindled inside of her.

  They rushed to Malcolm. Harrison stretched Mother out next to Father. Malcolm had dumped a nice pile of salt on Father’s chest over the bullet wound. Turning, he didn’t bother to move clothing out of the way before sprinkling salt over her mother’s injured shoulder.

  “I’ll ride in the back with them.” Sylva hopped over the edge and squatted down between their heads. Harrison moved their limp feet out of the way and closed the tailgate, then crawled in next to her.

  Malcolm handed the round bottle of salt off and within seconds, they were back on the road.

  The ride out felt ten times bumpier than it had on the way there.

  She touched her father’s cheek. Was it her hopeful imagination or was his color returning? She lo
oked over her mother. No, she definitely looked better. “I think we got to them just in time.”

  “The brothers wanted to send a message,” Harrison said. “If they’d wanted your parents dead, they would’ve used head shots.”

  The Raymores had been sending enough messages. And she was doing nothing but waiting for them.

  Skills she would choose to use…

  She had more to defend than just herself. She had to start thinking like the brothers, anticipating their moves. She had to remember that they didn’t care about her and they didn’t care about her parents. To them, the colony had always served their needs, and their needs alone.

  This had to stop. Not just for her. For Mother and Father, who the Raymore family had tortured because of her. For the colony. For all the future mates like her that were to be herded off to their fates.

  That family had had the upper hand for too long. She wanted to stop them more than she wanted to hide in a closet and cry. She was a shifter, a shifter with the ability to stop them.

  Her parents’ options were limited, but had they been trying to send her a warning? Was she foolish to think her father had tried to take care of her in his own restricted way? She wouldn’t know until he recovered, but memories flowed back.

  Father never encouraged rebellion and especially discouraged speaking out against Roman or any of the others, but he had to have known that she and her mother talked. He had to have known how she and her mother were in agreement about the unfair power balance in the colony. Just like he had to know by now that her mother had helped her kill Roman. Yet, he was here with Mother under the pretense that he could talk some sense into her. He was doing exactly what the Raymores wanted him to, but was he up to anything else as well?

  Mother was secretly subversive. Did Father play the distraction? Perhaps Mother had learned from him how to put on a show. He had more say and more power than she ever had, but not much. Did he use what he had to make it look like they were compliant little shifters while Mother moved in and taught her things like independent thinking?

  She wanted a chance to find out. The salt had to be working.

  The scenery flew by. Malcolm took the turn slowly to keep them from spilling out the back, but when they were on the straight stretches, wind whistled around them as their speed picked up.

  She’d soaked in the bathtub for hours. Hiding. She’d been warm and safe and protected while her parents had suffered—because of her.

  No more.

  They approached the sprawling Synod building. Malcolm didn’t take the loop to the main entrance like usual. He aimed for the back and his phone was up to his ear.

  Every couple of seconds, Harrison’s gaze swept over her and her parents, but he concentrated on the area around them. While she’d been stuck in her own thoughts of how this could happen and all the nuances she had missed in her life, he’d been looking out for her, protecting them. If anyone was following, he would know.

  She was so done with this. She was finished with needing constant protection and she was over being the victim.

  Malcolm pulled to a stop by the back doors. The heavy metal panels swung open and a male and female shifter emerged. She recognized them, and if she tried, she could probably come up with their names. Two shifters had jumped to help her and her family. And she could hardly identify them. It shouldn’t take nearly losing her loved ones to highlight a glaring deficiency in her style of leadership. She didn’t need to keep everyone at a distance. Just because it was better than the style she’d grown up under didn’t mean it was right.

  Another pair of shifters wheeled two gurneys out. Had more come on duty for the emergency?

  She vaulted out of the pickup box but hovered nearby as they loaded Mother onto one gurney and then Father onto the other. Harrison was at her back. Always the shield.

  Before her parents could be wheeled inside, she grabbed one of the stretcher bearers by the bicep. “Please let me know how they’re doing. Malcolm can pass my number along. Call me anytime, don’t worry about the hour.”

  The male’s stunned gaze jumped from her to Harrison. He dipped his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The four medics wheeled her parents inside and the door swung shut behind them. She shoved her hair off her forehead with both hands and turned to face the twins.

  Malcolm’s head was cocked, his brows drawn down. “Aren’t you going inside with them?”

  “No. Can you kindly pass along to Demke that I’d like my contact information left with the team caring for my parents?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Sylva?” Harrison’s tone was cautious, like he knew she was planning something.

  “I’m done waiting. I’m done hiding. I’m not giving them another target.” She stepped around to the pickup and whipped the door open. “Let’s run home and grab our weapons. It’s time to hunt.”

  Chapter 15

  Harrison didn’t like this one bit. But he had to acknowledge that it was a good plan.

  Plan was perhaps too strong a word. They had gone back to Sylva’s and grabbed all their weapons. He and Malcolm were both still in simple jeans and a T-shirt, but he now had knives strapped above each boot and two in his shoulder holster. His gun with silver-laced bullets was at his side.

  Sylva had fewer weapons. Being a novice made it less likely that she would be the victor in a knife fight. Her best option was to shift and fight with the nature that drove her. Her lessons would come in handy.

  And that was it. Their plan. They would drive back up to where they’d found Sylva’s parents and follow the scent of Rafe and Clayton. Malcolm had reported to Demke. They had the support of the Synod. They wanted this over with, too—and if Sylva was involved in handling it herself, it’d look better to their people.

  As always, Malcolm drove and he rode shotgun and Sylva was in the back. The windows were down, allowing the wind to tear through the cab. He caught a glimpse of her in the side-view mirror. Her hair was secured back in a ponytail, and she scanned the surrounding forest with a steely gaze.

  No one had spoken unless it was to rattle off a list of supplies. They each carried a small pack of provisions like granola bars and bottles of water. And salt.

  The only things they knew for sure about their opponents were that one of them had the ability to control animals and that they were working with silver. Since at least one of the brothers had been able to control Nala over such a long range, it could be safely assumed that the other brother’s ability was amplification. But that was all they needed to know.

  Malcolm propped his elbow on the door, his other hand loose on the wheel. “We hunt for them in our human form, do all the regulation Guardian bullshit, and from there it’s like the Wild West. If they don’t listen and follow our commands, then they need to be taken prisoner using whatever force necessary.”

  Harrison didn’t think they would reach the prisoner stage. The resolve in Sylva’s eyes and the feelings all three of them had about the brothers’ tactics made the more likely outcome death, and he had no intention of allowing Sylva or his twin to die.

  Stopping where they’d found her parents, Malcolm killed the engine. “This is as good a place as any.”

  All three of them got out. Sylva circled her parents’ old truck, sniffing and inspecting it for any signs and smells that would aid them in their search. Harrison joined her as his twin made a larger arc around them.

  “Rancid sweat, just like I remembered.” She wrinkled her nose like it was the foulest smell in the world. And it wasn’t pleasant. Her parents’ fear clogged the cab and emanated from it several feet. Backing up, he was able to sift through the smells better.

  Malcolm stopped and pointed north. A narrow deer trail wound through the trees, probably one the brothers had used to gain easy access to the road. “It’s the strongest here.”

  She pushed off the pickup, adjusted her own backpack, and marched down the trail. Malcolm rushed in front of her and Harrison fell in step behind
.

  They had tracked several hundred yards when she said, “I feel better about this already.”

  “How so?” Malcolm asked.

  Harrison knew what she meant without asking. Tracking down the Raymore brothers felt better than remodeling her house while wondering when they were going to have to rip out the floor again because it had been ruined once more.

  “Taking action. I didn’t do enough of it before, I don’t do enough of it on the Synod, and I sure as hell wasn’t doing enough for the last few weeks.”

  Malcolm glanced over his shoulder as he held some pine branches out of the way for her to duck under. “No one expected a single shifter to fight back against three brothers who were supported by an entire colony.”

  She didn’t reply, but her boots ground harder into the dirt with each step.

  “It’s normal to feel like we should have done more,” Harrison said quietly. “It’ll never feel like enough.”

  Sylva looked at him from over her shoulder, her eyes appreciative. “Yes. Exactly.”

  This trek through the trees was eerily familiar. He was with his twin and worrying about the future of the female he cared about. Only this time he had a target. He had names. And he had scents.

  He would not fail now.

  And he had Sylva with him. She deserved to be part of this, she’d earned it, and it would do more to seize back control over her life than sitting in the Synod with armed protection. This was her fight and she refused to be left behind.

  Gloria had refused to go with him. Why can’t your brother go and you stay?

  She’s my sister, too.

  But I’m your mate.

  Always worried about herself. Gloria had gotten along with Camille, but she’d been so scared for herself.

  She’d had reason to be, but she hadn’t done anything about it.

  Sylva had put herself at risk to protect others. She was with them to spare other shifters pain and suffering. There might’ve been parallels between Sylva and Gloria, but they were nothing alike.