Pride's Pursuit

by Cat Kalen

  But soon enough Nova is pouncing into the backseat with me, her silky hair pulled off her face, a long braid dangling down her back in a fashion that has me thinking of Ms. Kara.

  I listen to the rapid beat of Nova’s heart and the elevated thud of her pulse. Her blood is running faster through her veins now, a hurried rush that she can’t hide from me. Without saying a word she moves in beside me, and as I turn from her and glare out the window, I can feel her pale eyes drilling into the back of my head.

  “Pride,” she finally says when she realizes I’m waiting for her to make the first move.

  Leaving the scenic imagery behind, I look at her pretty face, and while I want to believe Logan, believe that she is suffering from trauma, my hackles bristle, and a dark shiver pulses in my blood. Warning bells clang in my head, because beneath her perfectly fabricated facade I catch a hint of something so foul it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. As my stomach sours in response, every nerve ending in my body, every instinct I possess stands on high alert.

  “Yes?” I ask as she turns those shrewd pale eyes on me.

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “Yes,” I lie. Even if I did, I’m not about to let her in on it.

  Her hand squeezes my arm, and I flinch at the contact. “It’s very brave of you.”

  “What’s brave of me?” I glare at her and wonder where she’s going with this.

  “To go after the PTF.” She stops to give a mock shiver, her hand closing over the wound they left on her hip. After a good show of fear, she says, “I was lucky to get out alive.” She pauses, then adds, “But from what I’ve heard about you…”

  Her voice falls off and even though I feel like I’m walking into a trap, I ask, “What have you heard?”

  “That you’re a fearless warrior, Pride,” she answers with bright-eyed enthusiasm, her white teeth flashing in a smile. “A courageous leader.”

  Instincts sharp, my animal gives a low menacing growl, her distrust evident in the way she reacts to the girl beside me. I don’t miss the fact that she’s trying to bolster my ego. But what I don’t know is why.

  “What makes you say that?” I ask instead of telling her the truth—that I’m just a girl trying to right a wrong and find her place in this strange new world.

  “I guess if anyone can change the minds of the PTF, it’s you.” She waves her hand, then tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. When a small frown forms on her forehead, I study her expression and try to figure out what’s really going on inside that head of hers. “It makes me wonder why we’re all tagging along.”

  “I never asked you to come along.”

  Her smile fades and I feel her mood turn sober, dark. “Then again,” she continues on as if I hadn’t even spoken, “it’s not like we could stay back in the village. Not after you led them…” She stops midsentence and gives me a sheepish look. “Well, you know.”

  I stare at her long and hard, my heart pounding in my ears as her words hit with the sting of a cruel master’s whip. She goes quiet, like she’s giving me time to absorb and digest what she’s saying. But no one knows better than I do that it was me who led the PTF back there, and I’m responsible for the death of her family, the destruction of her entire village. I exhale a ragged breath and the tortured sound slices the silence of the SUV.

  Nova leans into me, and my animal stirs uneasily. Long lashes shade her eyes, and in a low voice meant for my ears only she says, “I guess that’s why you want to fix this mess. I’d feel pretty guilty, too.”

  My chest tightens, and as anxiety gnaws at my stomach, I steel myself, hating that she’s right about my feelings, and hating more that she can so easily read them. I work to slow my pulse and keep my blood flowing steadily, my instincts warning that the less she knows about me the better.

  Nova squares her shoulders and levels me with a stare before gesturing with a nod toward the front of the vehicle. “We might be traveling with two powerful alphas, but if I were in your shoes, I’d be sure to take the lead on this mission. You know, so no one else ends up getting hurt.”

  As her words settle like a cold, chaotic lump in my stomach, I pull her scent deep into my lungs, and despite my best efforts to keep my pulse steady, it kicks up a notch. I move past the floral aroma on her tanned skin, the heady perfume of her natural animal, and when I do I get the sense of something dark beneath the fragrant mask.

  Something very dark indeed.

  Chapter Five

  After a long, uneventful ferry ride, and an even longer night of driving along the Pacific Coast Highway, we’re finally well on our way to reaching our destination. From the back of the vehicle, I try to spend my time resting, because sleep might be hard to come by in the next few days, but when the SUV hits a bump in the road it pulls me awake.

  I tilt my head to face the sun and as I drink in its midmorning warmth, I let it seep under my skin, hoping it will chase away the chill in my body, one, as of late, I simply can’t seem to shake.

  I crack my window and the crisp autumn wind whips at my face and blows my wild, tousled curls into my eyes. Breathing deep, I tuck my hair behind my ears and inflate my lungs until my chest is fully expanded. While the sharp intake fuels my blood cells, it still doesn’t keep me from craving a hot cup of coffee, the hazelnut kind like Mica, the elderly housekeeper, used to sneak me.

  Off in the distance I catch hints of salty brine in the air, and when the vehicle rounds the corner and I glimpse the Pacific Ocean just over the embankment, my heart begins to race.

  It makes me feel light-headed, but that doesn’t stop me from sticking my head out the window so I can listen to the liquid surf crash against the rocky shore.

  As I take in the glorious sight of the open water—a sight that has always reminded me of freedom—my mind races back to the time when I shared my secrets with Logan. I think about that special night I opened up to him, and I told him what the Pacific Ocean means to me.

  Without conscious thought, my glance darts to the front of the SUV, my animal seeking the one she once mated with. When I catch a pair of unguarded eyes staring back at me from the rearview mirror, it produces a familiar fullness in my chest, one that has my primal side howling from within. Logan’s smile is slow, his eyes every bit as blue as the Pacific waters lapping nearby. But it’s the hint of vulnerability I see shimmering below the surface that tells me he’s thinking about that night every bit as much as I am.

  We exchange a long, thoughtful look, the bond we share evident in the way our eyes connect. But as I think about the promise he once made to me, I realize so much has changed since the full moon we spent in the cave.

  We’ve all been through so much, seen too much for shaders our age, and I can’t deny that I no longer feel like the young, naive girl who ran through the woods with a powerful alpha—a boy who taught me to hunt, feed. Survive. One who assured me that someday, when our fight is over, he’d take me to play in the sand and surf.

  A movement in the seat directly in front of me gains my attention. I glance at Stone, and when I feel him surfing the outer edges of my thoughts, I mentally push back. Our gazes lock and his haunted eyes search mine for answers, ones I simply don’t have.

  As emotions crowd me, I tear my eyes away to stare out the window, returning my focus to the mission ahead. I think about what we could face at Lewis Lake, I wonder if the two alphas—these boys who are so completely different from one another—will be able to work together when the time comes.

  Or will their hate and distrust for one another end in bloodshed?

  That thought has bile pushing into my throat. When my father announces from the front seat that in a few hours we’ll be approaching our destination, I harden myself and get my mind back into the game.

  We stop at a roadside gas station to fuel our vehicle as well as our stomachs. The master used to think an empty stomach made me a better hunter, which is the main reason I want my animal full before trekking into the unknown. I don’t want hunger
pangs distracting her, and I can’t take the risk that an empty stomach will drive her to do something I might regret later. At least if I’m full, I’ll be better able to keep her focused on our pursuit.

  After swallowing down half a tuna sandwich, the rich creamy mayonnaise thick and delicious on my tongue, I pop the cap on my can of soda. I take a huge gulp of the syrupy drink and stretch out my stiff legs as I make my way across the wide expanse of black asphalt toward the empty SUV.

  From behind me a loud yelp pierces the air. I don’t need to turn back to know it’s the cry of an agitated German shepherd. The heavy metal chain clanking along the ground fills me with horrific memories of my own collar as the dog bolts forward only to get yanked back inside the mechanic’s bay beside the convenience store.

  “We’ll be gone in a minute,” I whisper under my breath, understanding the animal is threatened by the motley crew of shaders who’ve trespassed on its territory, and it is reacting the only way it knows how.

  Not at all different from a boy I know.

  When the mechanic yells at the dog and hauls him inside, I turn my attention to the fat ginger-colored cat scurrying out from beneath a camper. It cuts across my path, stopping long enough to hiss at me. With its fur standing on end, the cat arches its back in a defensive mode, a failed attempt to make itself look bigger and frighten the big bad wolf away. Unable to help myself, I bare my fangs, and when it runs across the busy parking lot and disappears under a set of wooden steps, my animal howls in juvenile delight, eager to take chase.

  Except I don’t let her. Because the sight of the cat reminds me I have more serious matters at hand. Like the strays that have been unleashed into the world. A fine shiver moves through me as I take a moment to wonder what will become of them, and of the humans they encounter. Then I once again think about the one stray that gave Gem her freedom, one that went against nature, against its family. The same way some shaders go against their nature, and turn their back on their packs to live rogue lives—the way my father had.

  With that last thought tossing the sandwich around in my stomach and pushing a thick clump of wet bread into my throat, I swallow hard and shade the sun from my eyes. I’m nursing the soda and trying to wash away the bitter taste lining the inside of my mouth when my father steps up to me.

  Around a mouthful of mustard-covered hot dog he says, “I’ve been looking over the coordinates, and Lewis Lake is well off the grid. I don’t think we should go in until after dark.”

  I think about that for a moment. It won’t give us an advantage if we’re up against feral strays, but it could mean the difference between life and death if we stumble upon PTF officers. I’m well aware that all hunters are equipped with night-vision goggles, but our night vision comes naturally, so the advantage is still ours.

  “Okay,” I agree.

  He gulps down the last of his food and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before turning his full focus on me. Dark eyes move over my face, assessing me. “What do you expect to find there, Pride?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s our only lead, so it’s the crucial first step in figuring out where Malcolm and the others are.”

  “Are you prepared to do what you have to if you come across task force hunters?”

  “I’m prepared to reason with them. To show them we’re not monsters.”

  His brows collide as his forehead creases. “How do you expect to do that?”

  “By not killing them,” I announce.

  “And you think they’ll let you live, just because you spare their lives?” I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off and says, “They’re dangerous men and this is what they’ve been trained to do. It’s all they know and they enjoy it, Pride. It’s what they live for.”

  I tilt my chin, a knot tightening in my stomach. “I changed the mind of one, didn’t I?” As the words spill from my mouth, I wonder exactly who it is I’m trying to convince. Him or me. Either way, Logan’s family is missing, and while I have no idea what is waiting for us at Lewis Lake, I know it’s not in my nature to tuck tail and run in the other direction.

  Expression wary, my father pinches the bridge of his nose, his battle-scarred face twisting in pain. I stare at him and my stomach sours in confusion.

  Before I can ask what’s going on he says, “Let me ask you one thing.” He pauses for a moment, and when he sees that he has my full attention, he asks, “What if this is a war that you can’t win?”

  When I catch scent of his apprehension, old fears creep into my thoughts but I quickly shove them out. “I can and I will,” I answer. I wave toward the rest of our pack who are still inside the convenience store. “I promised them all the chance to live normal lives outside the compound, and I plan on making that happen.”

  I can’t let his doubts cloud my focus. Signaling my disinterest in continuing the conversation, I perch on the passenger seat and turn my thoughts to the maps sprawled out on the dashboard. I run my finger along the highlighted path Logan has outlined and remember his stake in all this. He has a family to find.

  “Define normal?”

  My father’s somber voice cuts through my thoughts like a silver blade, and my head jerks up with a start.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Define normal,” he says again.

  “School, friends, family dinners.”

  He stares at me like I have no idea what normal is for us shaders. Instead of countering, he mops at a bead of sweat on his forehead and there is something so profound, so darkly disturbing in his eyes when he looks past my shoulder to stare at the long, black stretch of highway ahead of us, it fills me with dread.

  A warm afternoon breeze whips my hair around my face, and when my father exhales slowly I catch a foul scent in the wind. I can’t pinpoint the root of the odor, but I do know it’s the same tainted stench that assaulted my senses when I spotted my father emerging from the woods two nights ago.

  Looking more tired than he did this morning, he circles the car and climbs into the driver’s seat beside me. As he slowly drums his fingers on the dashboard, a fine shiver moves through me and my hackles spike. My animal begins pacing, howling to break free and run. Even though she doesn’t recognize the putrid scent clogging the cab of the vehicle, she doesn’t like it, doesn’t like that it makes her feel restless, edgy.

  Fearful.

  I’m glad for the distraction when the others begin to file out of the convenience store and walk toward us. When I catch Logan’s glance, Nova keeping pace beside him, he cocks his head to the side. His eyes are questioning, distrustful, worried beyond his young years when he sees my father sitting in the vehicle so close to me, which begs the question, what does Logan know about my father that I don’t?

  “We should go,” I say more to myself than to anyone else, and while I want to question Logan, I know now is neither the time nor place, especially considering the way Nova continues to cling to him.

  With that we all pile back into the vehicle. By the time we pull the SUV off the road to take a path into a remote area of the woods, the last ribbon of light fades from the sky.

  As darkness descends over the forest, we cut a bumpy path through the threadbare trees and drive until the dirt road narrows in on us. Once the vehicle stops Nova slides the door open and I climb out behind her. I stand still for a long moment and listen to the night sounds. In the distance I hear the familiar echo of a cannon sounding its last blast of the night, frightening off any remaining birds from a local vineyard. A trickle of unease shivers through my bloodstream.

  We’re close, I realize. Far too close to my former prison for comfort, which once again has me wondering why the name “Lewis Lake” strikes me as familiar.

  I rack my brain but my thoughts shift when my glance lands on Sandy. I feel a moment of worry for her and can’t help but wish the young girl was insulated from all this danger. Since she’s carrying a child, she should have been taken to safety, but I do know that she’s right. She has lost as much as I h
ave in this senseless fight, maybe even more so, and needs to be a part of the battle to end the war on shaders.

  I take a moment to compose myself. Then I step over a fallen tree and pull the scents of the forest into my lungs. Moving deeper into the dark woods, I can feel the skyscraping trees closing in on me from all angles, the canopy of leaves making it that much more challenging to search for signs of danger.

  With my pack at my back assessing the situation, I continue forward. Dry autumn leaves, crisp and colored from the changing season, crunch beneath the soles of my oversize boots.

  Animals scurry about, weaving their way around the trees, and birds take flight as we intrude on their domain. With the instinctive knowledge that we could be walking headfirst into danger, I still myself for a moment, every nerve in my body on high alert. But since I don’t know what we’re going to find out here in the middle of nowhere, I’m unable to detail an outline, unable to strategize the best course of action. I hunker low and rub dry leaves between my hands, my animal feeding off the aroma of the forest.

  I scan the area and search the ground for tracks, a hunting trick Logan taught me while we chased game in Olympic Park. Squishing the leaves in my hand until they crumble, I bring them to my nose and inhale. I let the various scents seep into my bloodstream, and when I catch a distinctive smell, one that warns of death and danger, I jackknife to my feet and let loose a low, distressed howl.

  “What is it?” Stone asks, his eyes piercing the darkness around us as he steps up to me. His gaze searches mine and I can feel him trying to read my thoughts. “Stray?”

  I shake my head and brush the decaying leaves from my hands. As they fall to the ground in a shimmer of color, I answer with, “No, but a female shader has been through here recently, and she’s frightened.”