* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Mason understood Ezra’s warning that Zander Moncrieff was totally insane.
Mason followed the man through the trees on silent feet, both of them naked. Zander had insisted they shuck their clothes before they left, so they could shift at a moment’s notice. Made sense, but the underbrush was slashing the hell out of Mason’s unprotected feet and legs. When he’d asked why they didn’t just shift first, Zander had shaken his head.
“If they see anything four-legged in the trees, they’ll simply shoot it,” Zander had said. “Don’t shift until I give you the signal.”
Mason had understood his point—if the hunters were that happy to kill, they’d have to be careful.
Jasmine had stayed behind without argument. Without much argument, Mason amended. She’d seen the sense in her not going up against hunters with guns. She hadn’t let Mason go, though, before she’d lit a sage stick and waved smoke all over him, while Zander had watched, amused.
The hunters had set up camp a few miles from Zander’s house. They weren’t hiding—Mason smelled their campfire and whatever they’d cooked, and the glow of their fire lit the night. They didn’t fear anything out here, the idiots.
Zander, Mason had to admit, was good at stealth. He moved quickly and silently despite his size, running over ground with athletic ease. Mason came behind, striving to keep up with the bigger man, shadows swallowing both of them.
Zander didn’t wait to plot his strategy or share with Mason what he planned to do. He simply shifted to half man, half beast without warning and sprinted toward the camp.
When Mason saw the form of Zander’s half-shifted state, he understood why he hadn’t figured out Zander’s animal. He was a bear—but not just any bear.
The fur that caught the starlight as Zander rose was pure white, his paws and tip of his long muzzle black. Not that Mason could see much of his nose, because Zander’s fangs gleamed as he let out a roar.
Mason knew now where he’d seen eyes that black—Olaf, the polar bear cub who lived down the street in the Austin Shiftertown had eyes exactly like Zander’s.
But while Olaf, when he was half shifted to polar bear and roaring, was adorable, Zander Moncrieff was terrifying.
The men in the camp dropped whatever they were drinking and scrambled up as Zander raised his arms and came at them.
“Fucking hell!” one of them yelled. “It’s a yeti. I swear to God.”
Most Shifters figured that what humans called a yeti was in truth a Shifter. Probably Zander, Mason thought now, messing with their minds.
Zander roared again, a menacing hulk just outside the light of their campfires. The hunters grabbed shotguns and started shooting, but Zander dropped and moved so fast they never got a bead on him.
Goddess, he seriously was insane, Mason snarled silently. Zander wasn’t that far from the hunters, and at some point, one of them would hit him. Then Mason would have a shot-up healer on his hands, which wouldn’t do Aunt Cora any good.
Mason shifted all the way to wolf and dashed into the camp. Everyone was looking at Zander, so Mason ran in without anyone seeing him and started knocking over tents. When a few men turned back at the commotion, Mason barreled into them, too close for their aim. Guns dropped from hands. Mason shifted to his half beast long enough to scoop up the weapons and run off with them.
He dumped the shotguns in the woods then shifted to full wolf and sprinted back for more while Zander distracted them by playing yeti. Soon, five of the half dozen hunters were shotgun-less, while the sixth aimed wildly at Zander.
Zander lifted one of the guns Mason had liberated, waved it in the air, and then broke it apart between his massive hands.
The sixth hunter aimed right at him. Zander made a perfect target silhouetted against the starlight, and he had no time to duck. Mason slammed himself into the hunter, and the gun went off, the shot going wide.
Zander hit the ground but came up with another shotgun, roaring like a movie monster as he ripped it to pieces. Fucking show-off.
The hunters ran, careening into each other as they sprinted for the SUVs at the edge of the clearing. Zander stomped on another of the guns, then he roared again, his muzzle reaching for the sky.
When he came down, he landed on all fours as full bear—the most gigantic polar bear Mason had ever seen. Not that he’d ever seen a polar bear up close before, besides Olaf, and Olaf was a cute little cub.
There was nothing cute about Zander. He charged after the hunters, no playing around now. He thundered over the brush and through the trees, his coat a flash of white, his gaping mouth red and savage.
The hunters shouted, screamed, and flung themselves into the two vehicles at the edge of the trees. One of the SUVs didn’t want to start, and the men inside it gibbered as Zander slammed his full bodyweight into it. He rocked the SUV back and forth, the men yelling and urging the driver to get them the fuck out of there.
The first SUV didn’t wait for them. It leapt away in a cloud of dust, red lights flashing while their friends cried out, alternately swearing and praying at the tops of their voices. Zander, rising to his half beast again, brought his fists down on the SUV’s back window, shattering it just as the vehicle roared to life.
The driver stomped on the gas, and the SUV leapt away, skidding on dirt and mud before it righted itself and shot after the first one. Mason found himself bathed in a wash of exhaust, left alone with a twinkling campfire, a pile of broken guns, wrecked tents, and a seriously crazy polar bear.
Zander shifted to human and burst into wild laughter. “Assholes!” he yelled. “Woo-hoo! Look at ’em run.”
Mason shook himself and shifted back to human. “Are you stupid?” he snarled at Zander. “It’s funny now, but what happens when they stop being scared and start getting mad? If they report that a bear and a wolf tried to kill them, they’ll have all kinds of hunters, park rangers, and whoever else out here to round us up and take us down. Goddess help us if they figure out we’re Shifters.”
Zander stopped laughing, his exuberance dying as though he’d flipped a switch. “Good point. I guess we’d better go.”
Without another word Zander turned, shifted to bear, and started at a dead run back toward the trailer.
This is for Aunt Cora, Mason told himself as he shifted to wolf and ran after Zander. He had to repeat that several times and grit his teeth until he tasted blood. Otherwise he’d strangle the idiot before they got him home.
* * *
Zander sat in the copilot’s seat on the way to Austin, while Jazz and Mason again rode in the back. Mason had been tightlipped about the raid on the hunters’ camp, but Zander had gloated.
“You should have seen it, sweetie,” Zander had said as he’d burst back into the house and grabbed a pair of jeans. Jazz had quickly averted her eyes, turning around until she was certain Zander had covered his very large body. “Mason and me had them running like their asses were on fire.”
“Let’s just go,” Mason had snapped, reaching for his own clothes. Jazz didn’t bother to look away from him. He was all growly and irritated, which made him cute, though Jazz would never tell him so.
Now she and Mason sat shoulder to shoulder, bumping against each other when the plane jolted with turbulence. Mason was staring at the back of Zander’s chair as Zander talked enthusiastically with Marlo.
“He’s afraid,” Mason said.
Jazz was startled at the declaration, but then she studied Zander, who’d resumed his clothes and duster coat.
He had an intriguing aura, silver-gray shot through with white, which matched his white hair and black eyes, as though everything about him had to be monochrome. Zander had an especially strong spiritual connection with the Goddess, Jazz sensed, one that not even other Shifters had.
“Interesting,” Jazz said. “Afraid of what? The feral Shifter? I know Aleck is dangerous, but even your aunt stood up to him.”
Mason shook his head. “I don’t thi
nk it’s fear of physical pain or having to fight. I saw Zander go after those hunters—he stood up in front of gunfire without flinching. He wasn’t trying to hurt the guys; he just wanted to scare them, but he wasn’t afraid of taking on a group of armed humans. No, there’s something else going on with him.”
“Yeah, he’s hard to read,” Jazz said. She slid her hand over Mason’s, liking how he instantly closed his fingers around hers. “I’ve been thinking about something,” she went on. “When I came downstairs at the safe house and found the stones blazing and the amber lighting you up … Mason, it wasn’t my psychic ability that put the final piece of the puzzle together. It was yours.”
Mason’s brows drew together. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not psychic.”
“Not necessarily psychic, per se,” Jazz said, tracing a line on his palm. “But you’re more attuned to the metaphysical side of life than you know. Amber in particular reacts to latent power, because it’s so ancient. It used to be tree resin—part of a living thing.”
Mason shrugged, uncomfortable. “The stones must have had whatever residual woo-woo stuff you did to them at the motel inside them. It was you, not me.”
“Don’t think so.” Jazz liked touching his hands. They held such strength, yet these broad fingers had so precisely fashioned the inlay on his music box. “The stones were pretty spent, as I said. I couldn’t get anything out of them at all. But you did.”
“Whatever happened, it wasn’t me,” Mason said impatiently. “I’m not—”
“Goddess-touched,” a big voice rumbled.
Jazz jerked her head up to see Zander standing over them, his white braids swinging as he reached into the cooler next to Jazz and brought out a dripping can of soda.
“What are you talking about?” Mason asked him, irritated.
“Goddess-touched,” Zander repeated. “Means the magic of the Goddess runs strong in you. Probably through your whole clan.”
Jazz squeezed Mason’s hand. “That makes total sense,” she said excitedly to him. “You said your family had Guardian ancestry and that your brother could use a Guardian’s sword. You bonded with my house real quick, and you really did charge the stones so they could find Zander.”
“Yep.” Zander gave her a nod. Jazz saw the haunted look in Zander’s eyes as he leaned down again to grab a bag of chips from a box that constituted what Marlo called in-flight dining. “Definitely Goddess-touched,” Zander said as he turned away. He tossed over his shoulder, “Takes one to know one.”
Mason only muttered, “Don’t tell me I have to be like him. Please.”
Jazz watched Zander slide into the seat in the cockpit, rip open the bag of chips, then laugh uproariously at something Marlo said before pouring half the contents of the bag into his mouth.
“No.” Jazz leaned her head against Mason’s shoulder. “I think you’re fine the way you are.”
* * *
Zander continued to be a total pain in the ass all the way from the airstrip out in the middle of nowhere Texas into Austin. Dylan came to pick them up, and Mason had to wonder why. Dylan didn’t run errands.
Mason realized as the miles went by and Austin appeared on the horizon that Dylan had come to check out Zander. Zander had no Collar, didn’t come from a Shiftertown, and lived on his own without any clan that Mason had been able to discern. The man’s trailer hadn’t had any photos or other personal mementos of family on its walls.
Alone and clanless. Mason shuddered. He couldn’t imagine that. He drew Jasmine closer, clamping down on his need to do nothing but kiss her as they rode in through Austin and made for Shiftertown.
They reached home at about nine in the morning. The sun was up, the air cool and dry—a beautiful day for Austin. When Dylan stopped the truck in front of Mason’s house, Mason knew immediately that they might have come too late.
Aleck’s roar boomed from the basement, and Mason heard banging on a small barred window in the house’s foundation. If Aleck found a way to break free, anyone in Shiftertown would be fair game. He could kill plenty of cubs before they got him tranqued.
Zander’s face drained of color as he emerged from the pickup, his eyes going bleak. Terror. Mason exchanged a glance with Jasmine, and she nodded.
“Let me see your auntie first,” Zander said, heading for the house. “She in here too?”
Mason watched for a surprised moment as Zander strode rapidly through the yard and on up to the porch, his duster coat swirling around him. The man was about to open the door and walk right into another Shifter’s home—Mason’s brothers would disembowel him.
Mason sprinted after him. He made it onto the porch as Zander reached for the doorknob, and he shoved himself in Zander’s way.
“Are you insane?” Mason demanded. He pushed open the door and walked into the house first. Sure enough, his brothers Corey and Derek were pouring down the stairs, eyes flat, ready to fight the intruder. “You don’t just barge into another Shifter’s territory,” Mason said angrily. “I’m surprised you’re still alive.”
“I’m a healer,” Zander replied without inflection. “We have different rules.”
“That just means you haven’t met Broderick,” Mason looked around. “Where is he, by the way?” he asked his brothers, who’d halted but looked mad as hell.
“Downstairs, trying to keep Aleck in,” Corey answered with a grunt. He gave Zander a once-over, obviously not liking what he saw. “We built a big cage in one of the rooms, welded the bars ourselves. Aleck’s been trying to tear it apart. When he’s coherent, he claims we’re trying to keep him from his mate and cubs.”
“Well, we are,” Mason said impatiently. “This is Zander Moncrieff. He wants to see Aunt Cora.”
“Joanne and Nancy are with her,” Corey said, arms folded. Derek, the brother closest to Mason in age, said nothing, but his anger was palpable.
Zander let Mason lead the way up the stairs and didn’t try to push past him. Jasmine came right behind Mason, and Mason reached back and clasped her hand. He felt better holding on to her.
Aunt Cora was not doing well. Mason’s chest burned when he saw her, her face sunken and wan, her usual vitality absent. Aunt Cora had the silk scarf he’d bought her draped loosely around her shoulders, and she tried to focus on Mason as he came in. Mason saw in her eyes that she knew she was dying.
“Don’t look so horrified,” Aunt Cora said, her voice a weak scratch. “Does nothing for my ego. I’m glad to see you and Jasmine made it home. And what is that?” She glared up at Zander.
As Mason watched, Zander underwent a transformation. The overly loud Shifter forcing joviality to hide his anger and fear vanished, and a man filled with compassion took his place. Zander’s dark eyes softened as he sank down next to the bed and took Aunt Cora’s wasted hand.
“I’m Zander Moncrieff,” he said. “Of the Shetland Island Moncrieffs. I’m here to heal you.”
Aunt Cora regarded him with deep suspicion. “Are you? Or is the whole Shifter mystical healer thing a bunch of bullshit?”
Zander very gently squeezed her hand. “It’s all true. Unfortunately.” He brushed his finger over her forehead and rose. “Mason—talk to you in the hall?”
The fact that he asked Mason to have a consultation outside the room, not Corey or Derek, nor did he ask for Broderick, stunned everyone, including Aunt Cora. Nancy and Joanne, who sat very close together on a sofa, Joanne’s arm linked with Nancy’s, both watched with interest, startled out of their worries. Derek looked enraged; Corey bemused.
Zander paid no attention to their reaction as Mason and Jasmine followed Zander into the wide, square hall. Zander leaned down and spoke to them in a quiet voice.
“Here’s what you need to know about healers, Mason. I can heal your aunt. It will be tough but I can do it.” Zander’s look was somber. “What happens, though, after I heal a Shifter is that they are fine, but I’m not. The Goddess played a bloody good joke on me. I can heal, but only if I then take on all
the pain and suffering of the person I’ve just saved. Not the actual wounds or illness—but I experience the same pain. I don’t know how it works, but it doesn’t really matter. It lays me out for a long time—sometimes days. Once it was a couple of weeks before I recovered. That’s why I live alone, my friends. I have to recharge before I can possibly help anyone else. The thing is …” Zander paused and ran his finger across his chin. “If I heal your aunt, I know I’ll be too spent to heal the feral, and it sounds like you either have to help him or put him down, very, very soon. I might not recover in time to do anything for him. I’ve never tried healing a feral before, so who the hell knows what I’ll be like after that? I might not come out of it at all, and then you’ll have an insane polar bear on your hands.” He let out a breath, his lips bloodless.
“So you need to choose, kid,” Zander finished, midnight-dark eyes on Mason. “Do you want me to heal your aunt, or the feral? Because I doubt I can do both.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mason answered at once. “There is no choice. Aunt Cora.”
“I don’t think so.” Aunt Cora’s wavering voice came from inside the room. “I can hear you, Mason. I’m not gone yet.”
Mason dropped Jasmine’s hand and pushed past Zander into the bedroom, barely able to breathe through his anger. He sensed Jasmine behind him—he’d always know when she was near.
“It has to be you, auntie,” Mason said with conviction. “Aleck’s already gone. If you could hear me in the hall, then you can hear Aleck in the basement.” He swung on Zander and demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Zander’s expression was grim. “I couldn’t be sure until I saw how badly your aunt was hurt, and how feral your friend is.”
“Which means he thinks I’m seriously hurt,” Aunt Cora said. “I agree. Look over there, Mason.” She pointed to where Nancy and Joanne listened, stunned. “Nancy will soon have a cub. That cub needs its dad. Aleck and his little family are just beginning in life, while I’ve lived a good, long time. I’m not in a hurry to go, but if there’s a chance to save Aleck, I say take it.”
Wild Things (Shifters Unbound #7.75) Page 14
