Shadow's Dream

by Jami Gray

  He went to the end of the hall where the linen closet stood and pulled out a different blanket. Shaking it out, he brought it back and gently draped it over Tomás. He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  He made a quick stop at the bathroom to wash his hands. As the rust color water swirled down the drain, he kept his gaze away from the mirror, reluctant to witness the upheaval created by this visit. He wiped away the crimson streaks on his chest and then waited until the water in the sink ran clear before turning off the faucet and drying his hands with the hand towel. When he stepped back into the kitchen, the teasing sense of rain wafted through the open sliding door. He went over to close it. Catching his reflection in the window, he decided perhaps he should find a T-shirt. There should be one left from his last visit. That was, if Tala hadn’t decided to burn it.

  He turned back down the hall and, once outside her closed bedroom door, a strange reluctance to invade her privacy made him pause. He turned the knob, and slowly pushed the door open. The familiar scent of sage touched lilac wrapped around him, slipping through unknown emotional cracks like haunting ghosts. Keeping his breathing shallow, he headed determinedly to the dresser taking up the far wall. He hit pay dirt with the first, low drawer. He snagged the familiar material, shut the drawer, and got out while he could.

  Back in the hall, with the door safely closed behind him, he tugged on the shirt and headed to the front room. As he drew closer, he could hear Tala crooning comfort to her wolf. He leaned against the entryway, arms folded across his now covered chest and watched Tala cradle the wolf’s head so Chay could carefully stitch the wounds.

  Ash gave a sharp yip. Tala’s hands tightened, keeping him still. “Just a few more, yázhí.” She shot Chay a sharp look. “Hurry up.”

  He didn’t bother looking away from his work. “I’m going as fast as I can. Don’t want to leave your mutt looking like a junkyard dog.” At Ash’s low growl, Chay’s hands stilled, and he met the wolf’s gaze with a glare. “Knock it off, flea bag.”

  Cheveyo couldn’t stifle his grin when Ash unsurprisingly subsided with a haughty canine sniff. “Best watch yourself, Chay, or that flea bag might bite you in the ass.”

  Tala lifted her head, her gaze flickering to his shirt, a tinge of color rising along her cheeks before she went back to Ash.

  Chay, on the other hand, kept his attention on his task. “He does, and I’ll bite back.” His fingers were nimble as he made quick work of the last few stitches. “There, you’re all done, you big baby.” He set down the bloody needle on the towel at his side before picking up the bandages and setting them in place. “You’re going to sport a few bald spots, old man.” Which explained the small pile of shaved fur at his knee.

  Ash shifted until he was half sitting, half lying in Tala’s lap, then gave Chay an evil eye before turning to lick Tala’s chin. She returned his affection with a gentle hug, then helped him get settled on a well-used doggy bed. “Stay put, big guy.”

  Chay gathered the emergency vet supplies and headed back into the kitchen. As he drew even with Cheveyo, he stopped and kept his voice low, “What now?”

  Cheveyo watched Tala baby Ash, her affection for the wolf undeniable. “Until we figure out what the hell is going on, we kept the others off of her.”

  “Cheveyo.” Chay waited until he had Cheveyo’s attention, implacable resolve adding a depth of age to Chay’s youthful face. “You’re my primary, she’s secondary.”

  Unfazed by Chay’s pitiless expression, Cheveyo simply said, “She’s my primary.”

  A pained wince broke through Chay’s mask. “Dammit, man, you’re bound and determined to make this as difficult as possible, aren’t you?”

  Cheveyo arched an eyebrow. “You expected differently?”

  Blowing out a breath, Chay turned and went to the kitchen sink. “You’re the least difficult of the big kahunas, so yeah, a man can hope, can’t he?”

  His woeful tone left Cheveyo shaking his head. “Perhaps you should heed the age old words of wisdom—”

  “‘Hope for the best, prepare for the worst’?” Chay offered over his shoulder as he cleaned the needle and rinsed out the stained cloths.

  “More like, ‘hope springs eternal,’” offered Tala as she slid past Cheveyo and took a seat at the table.

  “Ha, ha, ha.” Cheveyo moved into the dining room and joined her. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘False hopes are more dangerous than fears.’” Catching her arched brow, he shrugged and answered, “Tolkien.”

  At the sink, Chay turned around and leaned back against the counter’s edge, drying his hands on a towel. “Hobbits, one ring, flaming-all-seeing eyeball of doom Tolkien?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Huh, guess that explains it.”

  “Explains what?” Tala pulled one leg up and rested her chin on her knee.

  Chay’s smile was bright and playful. “Where he got his story ideas. Old man must have dealt with the Kyn.”

  The teasing that bordered on flirting irritated Cheveyo to no end. “We’re going to be dealing with something a bit more serious than some agoraphobic salamander with kleptomania tendencies, any suggestions?” It came out more sharply than he intended and earned him a glare from Tala and a mocking grin from Chay.

  Ignoring the sudden tension permeating the room, Chay drawled, “Got any silver shavings? We could spread them like salt along the doorways and windows.” He tossed the hand towel aside and braced his hands on the counter’s edge.

  “Why are you here?” Tala’s steel-laced question cut through the younger man’s attempt at levity while her attention locked on to Cheveyo.

  Cheveyo deliberately leaned back in his chair, shifted his legs out in front of him, and crossed them at the ankle. “You’re aware of what transpired at the Council’s latest meeting?”

  She straightened slowly, but he still caught her wince before a small frown marred her brow as she tried to figure out what was coming. “I am.”

  Understanding that she wouldn’t let him tend to her wound until this was out of the way, he stayed on point. Since caution was necessary when swimming in dangerous waters, he began wading in slowly. “So you know the decision to make the Kyn’s existence known to the humans will be put to a Council vote at the next meeting in six months’ time?” The eleven individuals composing the Kyn’s Council were the ultimate decision makers, and, generally, their decisions became Kyn law.

  She nodded.

  He waded in a little more. “While it is too early to predict the outcome at this point, there are indications some of the Council may be blind to the larger picture. There are those who are concerned that this willful blindness may lead to the eventual extinction of the Kyn.”

  His careful wording earned him a sardonic snort. “Cut the bullshit political talk, Cheveyo. You and I both know that the Council likes hiding in the shadows. If they can keep the big, bad monsters off the humans’ radar, all the better. Unfortunately, that’s becoming harder and harder to do.” She deliberately paused before adding, “Something the Northwest Kyn know all too well, don’t you?”

  He took her well-aimed jab with an acknowledging incline of his head and dove in. “We do, which is why, when a possible situation is brought to our attention and our help requested, we respond.”

  It didn’t take her long to put two and two together. She grimaced. “Rio called you.”

  “Not me,” he corrected. “Natasha.”

  Tala pushed to her feet.

  Catching her pained wince, he followed suite, slipping around the table and capturing her arm in his determined grip. “We need to treat those.”

  She looked down and tried pulling his hand away. “Later.”

  He didn’t move. “Now.”

  “Fine,” she muttered ungraciously, allowing him to steer her to the sink.

  Chay, who watched the exchange silently, moved off to the side and began rummaging through drawers.

  “The top left by t
he stove,” Tala directed him.

  Chay found the drawer containing clean hand towels and handed one over to Cheveyo. He took it and began running it under warm water.

  “Well, Rio didn’t call out of the goodness of his black heart, so why does he want you here?” Her tone was acerbic, but Cheveyo still caught the thread of worry she tried to hide.

  He wrung out the now wet hand towel and motioned for her to pull up her shirt. She did so, exposing the raw claw marks along her ribs. He crouched down and began to gently clean the wound even as he crafted a healing spell. It wasn’t particularly strong, but it would help ease the worst of it. “Because part of your problems started with us.” He held on to her hip as he dabbed a particularly deep tear. Her quiet gasp was followed by the warm weight of her hand bracing against his shoulder. His stomach tightened, and he resisted the urge to stroke her hip in comfort, as she visibly held her breath. “Almost done,” he said softly.

  Her fingers dug in briefly, then released. Strain vibrated along her voice, “Tomás was the only one who blamed the Northwest. You don’t owe us anything.”

  He wanted to growl at her use of “us,” but concentrated on his task instead. “It’s not a question of owing anyone anything.” He rose, rinsed the towel, and dropped back down to resume his task. Time to come at this from a different angle. “You weren’t at Mulcahy’s funeral.” His change of topic wasn’t arbitrary.

  “I wanted to come, but I wasn’t comfortable leaving.” Her fingers were absently brushing his hair from his shoulder.

  He paused and looked up, meeting her gaze. “Why?”

  Her fingers stilled. This close to her, he couldn’t miss the slight flex of her jaw. “Someone started up that land deal business again.”

  He frowned. “I thought that deal died with Tomás’s mate?”

  “So did—”

  “Tala!” An enraged bellow followed by a dull thump of something heavy hitting the front door cut her response short. “Open up, damn you!”

  Chay didn’t wait for Cheveyo, but rushed past to deal with the incoming threat.

  Cheveyo rose, tossed the towel into the sink, and grabbed a gauze pad. Tala batted at his hands until he snapped, “Stop it. Let Chay take care of him. No sense in rushing in there yet.” He taped the pad in place then tugged her shirt down. Keeping his hands on her waist, he waited until her gaze came to his. “Let us do our job.”

  Her spine snapped straight, and dull color rose under her skin. “I’m the Southwest Magi,” she hissed. “I’m not hiding behind you.”

  He resisted the urge to shake her. “I’m not asking you to hide. I’m advising you to let us keep the enraged wolf from tearing your throat out.” She opened her mouth to argue further, but he leaned in close. “Don’t, or I’ll lock your ass in your room.”

  Fury flared, and she went nose to nose with him. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Try me, awéé.” Only when she finally pulled back, and he was certain she wouldn’t test him, did he slowly release her.

  “Fine.”

  Taking her less than gracious acquiescence, he gravely said, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she warned as she stepped around him and headed for the front room. “If I’m going down for killing one Kyn leader, I can just as easily go down for killing two.”

  Chapter Five

  Knowing the importance of perception, Cheveyo stayed behind and to Tala’s right. If he made the stupid move of standing between her and the pack’s Second, she’d have to explain the deaths of two Kyn leaders, and that wasn’t a situation he intended to create.

  Chay stood near the stone fireplace, feet braced and arms crossed over his chest, his attention centered on the man barely holding it together by the couch. Lean and corded with strength, Chay barely topped the six-foot mark. With his impassive face and aura of coiled danger, like a snake preparing to strike, his ability to pull off dour and daunting wasn’t difficult. The other man, however, was a ticking time bomb.

  The two men were engaged in a staring contest, but as soon as Tala stepped into the room, the newcomer’s attention whipped to her. “Where is he?”

  “Andrew—”

  “No!” Andrew cut Tala off with a sharp gesture, his voice verging on the edge of a growl. “Where is he?” He took a predatory step forward. Which in turn, triggered Chay to do the same.

  Tala’s spine stiffened, and her shoulders straightened. “Dead.”

  An amber sheen rolled over Andrew’s dark eyes. The shifter’s hold on his emotions tenuous at best. His upper lip curled, and a low, hair-raising rumble echoed through the room, only to be returned in stereo as both Ash and Chay responded to the primitive vocal threat.

  Needing to take the current situation from lethal to survivable, Cheveyo softly commanded, “Enough.” He didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he looped his magic around the angry shifter like an invisible cage, leaving it poised to snap closed at a moment’s notice.

  When Tala stepped forward, deliberately adding a few inches between them, his patience cracked. If she wanted a reason to be pissed at him, he’d be happy to give her one. He tightened his magical grip and Andrew’s growls cut off like a thrown switch. Ash and Chay fell silent. The quiet vibrated with the combined weight of Tala’s resentment, Chay’s wry amusement, and Andrew’s fury, leaving Cheveyo stifling his beleaguered sigh.

  “Cheveyo!” Tala gritted out.

  He met her furious gaze, keeping his impatience in check. “What?”

  “Let him go.”

  “I’m not hurting him, merely keeping him from making a mistake.”

  Her hands curled into fists at her side, and he swore he could her hear her teeth’s enamel crumbling under the pressure of her locked jaw. “Now.”

  Without looking away, he slowly released his hold, conceding to her demand. Andrew gave a full body shake as Cheveyo’s magic receded. Although the room’s tension slipped back, Andrew glared at Cheveyo. By the fireplace, Chay repositioned until he could rest an arm on the mantel, while Ash took his time laying his head back on his paws, his gaze never wavering from Andrew.

  Tala pivoted back to Andrew. “Andrew,” she called, regaining his attention. “What would drive Tomás to attack Ash and me?”

  Lines creased his forehead as he frowned. “He attacked you?”

  “And Ash,” she reiterated.

  He shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “But he most certainly did,” Chay said.

  Cheveyo shot him a quick look. As much as he appreciated Chay’s willingness to back his protection of Tala, neither of them were there at the beginning of the attack. If asked to swear to who attacked who, they would be forced to tread a very thin line. Yet he did nothing to counter the impression Chay seemed determined to give.

  Andrew’s fury was slowly pushed aside by a grim acceptance. “Lizbeth’s death has left our alpha…”

  “Unsettled?” Tala offered gently.

  “Unbalanced?” Chay’s muttered opinion earned him a dark look from Andrew.

  “Misguided,” Andrew snapped, his fisted hands flexing.

  The movement was probably meant to hide the fact Andrew’s claws were out, but when a small bead of blood landed at Andrew’s feet, Cheveyo knew the shifter’s emotional state was volatile. He kept his question as empty of accusation as possible. “Misguided enough to attempt to kill another Kyn leader?”

  An uncomfortable flush rose under Andrew’s copper tone skin. “I don’t know,” he bit out.

  “You don’t know, or you don’t want to answer?” Chay’s brown eyes were cold.

  “I don’t know.” Andrew visibly wrestled his emotions back. “If you had asked me a few weeks ago, I would have told you there was no way he would attempt such an idiotic move.”

  “What changed a few weeks ago?” Regardless of how calm her question sounded, Tala’s question was layered in steel.

  Andrew ran a hand through his shaggy hair, wincing when strands pulled aga
inst his torn palms. “He had a meeting down in Phoenix.” His lip curled. “With one of the dickless mouthpieces of the BLM.”

  Tala cocked her head, puzzlement marring her brow. “The Bureau of Land Management? Why?”

  Andrew’s lips thinned, and he shook his head. “He didn’t share, and I didn’t ask.”

  The slight shift of Andrew’s gaze revealed shadows of deception. He was lying. Before Cheveyo could call the other man on it, Andrew continued, “I want to see him.”

  Chay straightened, his silent disapproval unmistakable.

  Before Tala could answer, Andrew closed in on her and snarled, “I’m not answering another damn question until I see him.”

  “Let the boy see him, child.”

  The new voice spun all three occupants of the room around.

  A man stood in the entryway between the kitchen and the front room, his weathered hands holding a worn baseball hat. He tucked it into the rear pocket of a well-worn pair of jeans as he came closer, his hand-tooled moccasins silent against the wood. His thick silver hair lay in a shaggy cut around the sun burnished, clean shaven face. Faded flannel covered a white T-shirt and his bright, dark eyes framed the straight blade of his nose. Age didn’t mark his features, but lay in the palpable aura he carried with him.

  “Danny?” Her gaze went beyond him as if she expected someone else to pop into existence.

  Reading her correctly, he gently chided, “I came alone.” He turned and extended his hand. “Cheveyo, it’s been a while.”

  Cheveyo clasped Danny’s hand briefly before letting it go. “It has, sir.” But the passage of years barely left a mark on the notable elder’s face. “Time seems to be treating you well.”

  His politeness brought a flash of white as Danny smiled. “It has.” Greetings done, the older man turned back to the silent Tala and scowling Andrew. “Please, Tala, allow the young wolf to see his alpha. There is time for mourning before change comes.”