by Abby Niles
She sniffed the air, then she scowled at him. “What piece of evidence did the council give you to smell?”
“Nothing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Nothing at all?”
“Not a goddamn thing. Why?”
She studied him. “The serum is working. And it’s true what they say, your sense of smell is better than mine.” She shook her head and quickened her pace.
Stunned, Britton stumbled to a halt. Had she just given him an actual compliment? Shaking his head, he trotted to her side. “How do you know the serum is working?”
Staring straight ahead, she tilted her chin higher in the air. “That’s Charlie’s natural scent you smell. I’m picking it up, but it doesn’t smell strong. Definitely not so strong that I would believe someone had just mowed their lawn.”
Holy shit, she had paid him a compliment.
Hell had definitely frozen over.
As she walked ahead of him, he studied her stiff shoulders. Man, that had to have cost her some serious pride-swallowing to admit. But it said something about Val he hadn’t been aware of. He’d believed her superior, holier than thou, but she wasn’t.
Val could give credit when credit was due—even to him.
And how had he repaid her?
By being a complete dick at every turn.
If she could be civil to him after the way he’d treated her, then he’d do the same, even if it was pure torture.
He caught up with her as she entered the clearing. The decrepit cabin had been abandoned for years. As he neared the steps, he stopped, concentrating, noting the slight trace of propane in the air. And then other odors suddenly bombarded him. Dirt, decaying leaves, dry rotted wood, a deer off in the distance. Everything surrounded him in a rush of scents.
He froze, taken off guard by the kaleidoscope of aromas that hit his nose at once.
Val turned and studied him. “What?”
“It’s so clear.” He inhaled. “Holy shit. It’s everywhere.”
He’d forgotten. He inhaled again. Man, he’d forgotten how weak his human nose really was. He felt the power of his ability now. He closed his eyes, focusing on one scent, pinpointing it—a woodpile long forgotten. He switched to another one. A family of squirrels inside the walls of the crumbling cabin. And then there was the propane emanating from the woods behind the structure.
Now it was time to really test how well the serum had worked.
The gas was strong, but a musky hint of shifter was detectable under it. He mentally grabbed on to it, bringing it forward as he peeled away the overpowering chemical smell. Then it hit full force, and his eyes popped open.
“Honeysuckle.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t smell honeysuckle.”
Of course she didn’t. She couldn’t get past the propane. But he could. “Whoever was with Charlie smells of honeysuckle.”
A crease formed between her brows as she sniffed. “I-I don’t understand. There’s no other scent here but Charlie’s. I don’t smell the propane.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I don’t.”
He hadn’t meant that as an insult, he’d simply been surprised by her admission, but by the way she’d bitten out those three words she’d taken it as a slight.
“Okay, not surprising. It’s not that strong here,” he said, then followed the scent to the back of the cabin and pointed to the woods. “It’s stronger from there, along with Charlie’s scent.”
When she came to stand beside him, he had to fight not to put some distance between them.
“That’s where I came out from the woods following his scent from the World Shifters. I stopped sensing the propane around the side of the cabin and could only detect the grass. I thought I was trailing Charlie, but what I was smelling came from the blanket.”
“Actually, it’s both.”
“What?”
“Charlie is the one who put the blanket inside the cabin.”
“How can you possibly tell that?”
How couldn’t she? But this time he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“There are two variations to his scent in the air. One is stronger, from his physical body. The other is muted, which means it’s either been diluted by the elements or it’s a marking he’s left behind from touching something. Whoever was with him stopped at the edge of the woods and sent him inside the cabin with the blanket and the note.”
The silence stretched between them for so long, he finally glanced down at her. The odd un-Val-like expression took him off guard. She almost seemed…lost. “Hey. You all right?”
Shaking her head, she cleared her throat. “So you’re saying…he’s cooperating?”
“Wouldn’t you? All they have to tell him is he’s going to see his mom again and he’ll do whatever they want.”
“Yeah,” she muttered as she wandered off toward the trees. “Yeah. You’re right.”
Frowning, he watched her push back a limb and disappear behind some branches. Where was the delight he should be feeling at her dejected attitude? Hadn’t she spent years rubbing his nose in how much better she was than him? Shouldn’t he feel some sort of satisfaction that she now saw he’d been damn good at his job?
But he didn’t, not one iota. Anything else seemed fair game to gloat about—other than her failure at her job. He knew the feelings that came with that failure firsthand, and he couldn’t go there…not even with her.
Following her into the woods, he found her standing by a tree with her back to him. Her head swiveled from left to right, most likely searching for something, anything, to feel she was contributing and not just tagging along for the ride. After they’d found Liam, and in one of their many heated moments, she’d flung those very words at him. To have her throw his worthlessness so callously at him, when he’d spent days cursing how helpless he’d been on that search, had been demoralizing. Then again, he’d started that fight, hadn’t he? He always started it with her. Backed her into a corner, until her claws came out. And she always hit where it hurt because he provoked her so badly.
He studied her stiff shoulders. Why was he just realizing this?
Because he was now seeing a bit of himself in Val…and feeling the first stabs of regret.
“Come on,” he said, coming up beside her. “Let’s track the trail back to the compound and see what we can pick up.”
As a peace gesture, he made sure to use the word “we.” Her gaze met his before flitting away, but not quickly enough that he missed the resentment brewing there. Damn, but he knew that emotion, too. Giving her time to come to terms with everything, he hiked ahead of her, focusing on the propane and not the boy’s scent. A few minutes later, a new aroma started to flourish underneath the gas.
Without looking behind him, he asked, “What’s the propane like here for you?”
“Stronger. So’s the shifter musk.”
“Good. Shows we’re on the same page. I just picked up a second shifter. Hmm. Orchids.”
As they hiked through the mountainous terrain, more scents were added: sawdust, sandalwood, and sage. When they reached the clearing at the perimeter of World Shifters, they backtracked to the last place he’d smelled the six organic scents together before they’d started to branch off. He studied the surrounding woods, the scene playing in his head.
“They came into the woods and ran until this point. Here, two stayed, while four of them proceeded toward the cabin. A ways down the trail, another one stopped, and only three continued on, and so on, until it was just Charlie by himself at the cabin. Then they came back here, following the same path.”
Val scowled. “They were messing with me. Letting me know there was more than one shifter, but proving a point that I would not be able to tell exactly how many. I could only detect the drops in shifter musk, not the individuals. For all I knew, I was going up against an army by myself.” Val laced her fingers behind her head, looked up at the sky, and muttered, “Damn it.”
Uncomfortable, Britton ret
urned his attention to the area. He was never good in situations like this. Never knew what to say. As far as he was concerned there was nothing a bottle of liquor and a good woman couldn’t cure—but somehow, he didn’t think Val would appreciate those suggestions.
From here, the scents branched off to the right. He turned and started following them. Footsteps crunched behind him and his estimation of her went up another fraction of a notch. She wasn’t pouting, and he didn’t have to coax her to continue.
About fifty feet in, her steps stopped abruptly, and he checked over his shoulder to find her standing ramrod straight. “What?”
Her chin went up in the air. Her lips pressed together and the chords in her neck worked on a swallow. When she finally spoke, her voice was slow and strained, “I can no longer smell Charlie.”
What? The grass was ringing clear to his senses. Then it hit him. “Shit. They masked his scent.”
“Yeah. All I’ve got now is propane and musk. Guess it’s a good thing you’re with me, huh? The famous Britton Townsend here to save the day.”
He ignored the jab as he tried to find something to say. Encouragement wasn’t something he and Val did. And it wasn’t even encouragement he wanted to offer…more like camaraderie—which completely baffled him, considering their past. But watching her struggle in the same manner he had, knowing the feelings of doubt and frustration she was experiencing, he wanted to reach out to her.
Not being able to find the words, he decided silence was the best option, and continued down the path. After they hiked for another fifty feet, the scents suddenly split off in opposite directions. The sawdust, honeysuckle, and sandalwood went one way while the sage, orchid, and grass went the other. Val muttered a curse behind him, and he knew why. With them masking Charlie’s scent, if Britton hadn’t been here, she would have no clue in which direction the child had been taken. Again, she’d been proven worthless.
He pointed off to the right. “Charlie went this way with two others.”
Silence followed his words and he glanced at her.
“Congratulations, Detective Townsend.” Her voice was tight with resentment and bitterness. “You’ll be the hero. Enjoy your moment of glory. It won’t last long.”
In response to her nasty comment, he said something that stunned the shit out of him, almost as much as it shocked her. But it just came out.
“I’m sorry, Val, for every crappy thing I’ve ever said to you.”
Chapter Four
Rolling her bag behind her, Val walked into the cabin with a pizza box balanced in one hand and a two-liter soda tucked under her arm. The heavy clomps of Britton’s boots came from behind as he dragged his artillery of luggage up the porch stairs. Why he felt he had to haul in everything in one trip was beyond her. She’d taken his laptop and a duffel bag since she could sling the straps over her shoulder, but that’d been all she could help with.
After she left her stuff by the couch, she went into the kitchen, popped open the pizza box, grabbed a slice, and took a large bite; her grumbling stomach thanked her. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was eat, bathe, and go to sleep.
With daylight running out, Britton had made the call to quit for the day and start fresh in the morning. Waltzing off into deep woods without proper equipment was foolish, he’d said.
That she agreed with. Besides, she needed to regroup. This afternoon had been a painful bitch slap. Having to face the fact that she would’ve failed so badly on such a crucial case wasn’t easy. Neither had been watching Britton succeed so brilliantly.
The resentment and envy that had clawed at her while she’d had to sit back and let him do all the work had practically driven her crazy, making her bitter and snippy. But instead of responding to her bad attitude with a blistering zinger of his own, Britton had apologized. Out of the blue. Stunning her speechless.
Thinking about it now, everything clicked, and she finally got it. He hadn’t gloated about his abilities or wallowed in her failure…because he knew exactly where her head was. And her feelings. He’d been there himself, had felt the same despair and resentment. Made snarky comments to cover the sting. Just as she had to him as soon as he had been given her job.
Every nasty shot she’d taken at him came roaring back now. Yeah, Britton had taken some cheap shots over the years, too, but she had always gone for the jugular—aiming squarely at his failure at his job.
Being head of SPAC was a huge part of who she was. She took pride in being the best, being the one in charge, the one people relied on to get critical situations under control. Britton had been the same, until his sentence robbed him of his abilities, and she’d reopened that wound every chance she’d gotten.
That realization made her feel horrible. Way to kick a man while he was down.
The simple truth was: the High Council hadn’t brought Britton in on the case to punish her. They had brought him on board because his ability was better than hers. By leaps and bounds. She’d seen the truth of it, and like it or not, it was time to accept that fact.
She took another bite of pizza and swallowed her bitterness along with the spicy meat, cheese, and tomato sauce. Hell, now that they had both walked in each other’s shoes, maybe they could let go of the past and work together.
The man in question piled his suitcases and backpacks by the door, then tossed the case file on the kitchen table and sat. While she grabbed plates and filled cups with soda, he pulled out the contents of the file, then picked up the evidence bag containing the blanket she’d taken from the cabin earlier, opened the bag, and held it up to his nose. The look of peace that overcame his face as he inhaled deeply made her hands shake and spill some soda on the counter.
She tore off a paper towel and sopped it up, darting covert glances at him as he moved the bag of material away and stared at it. The awe in his expression tugged at her heart. It must be pretty overwhelming to have such powerful abilities return when he hadn’t experienced them in over four long years. As she placed two pieces of supreme pizza on his plate, she waited to see if he would speak.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“I haven’t kept up with news in the shifter world. Have there been any rumbles from the protesters over Samantha Mills recently?”
“No.” She took her plate and crossed the room to perch on the arm of the couch. “It’s been quiet for about six weeks.”
Nodding, he picked up the evidence bag with the letter. “I knew her conviction wouldn’t go over well. She was just being a mother, protecting her child. She shouldn’t be punished for that.”
Val froze with the slice in front of her mouth, at a loss for words, shocked that Britton could be so compassionate. She felt the same way, in fact.
“The law is too rigid,” she said, putting down the food untouched. “If Harwood would just bend a little, everyone would be happier.”
Britton glanced up from the letter, his piercing blue eyes studying her in a way that made her want to fidget. Somehow she managed not to.
“You arrested her.”
It was a statement, not an accusation or a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes.”
“What was that like?”
“You haven’t ever arrested someone you didn’t want to?”
“Of course I have, but not for something like that.”
Neither had she. And she hoped never to again. She’d hated that day. The tears. The screaming. The fear. Keeping on her cop face had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
She’d wanted to weep with Samantha as the mother fought to get to her child. After the van carrying the child pulled away, Samantha had crumbled sobbing to the ground. Val had gone against protocol and hadn’t cuffed her; she couldn’t bring herself to take that heartless step. Once the child had been taken into custody there was no reason to, anyway. Samantha had gone without a fight, shoulders slumped, defeated, knowing it was over. Her child was gone.
Val sighed. “You can imagine how hard it was.
”
“I have a faint idea.”
“It’s times like those that make being head of SPAC so tough. If Samantha had registered the baby with the High Council as she should have the day he was born, then all of this could’ve been prevented.”
“And she would’ve lost custody of the baby that day instead of three years later. At least she had those three years.”
“Hidden away. Always afraid of discovery. Really, what kind of life did she, her mate, and the baby have? They severed ties with their families the moment they realized the baby suffered from the mutation. They moved thousands of miles away to an unknown town deep in the mountains. No neighbors, no family. They were alone with no support.”
“They had each other.”
She stared at Britton. Was she really talking to the same man who’d tormented her for almost four years? She looked away. She hadn’t really given that man a fair shake, had she? She didn’t know the real Britton; she only knew the one she’d brought the worst out in. “They did have each other. If her mate hadn’t died, they still would. But he did, and in the end, Samantha lost everything. Her mate, her baby, her freedom. It’s just not right.”
“You think the High Council got what’s coming to them with this kidnapping and demands?”
She picked at the pizza on her plate. “I don’t think it’s that simple. The High Council is doing what it thinks is right. The mutation is dangerous. To everyone, especially humans. Do I think there’s a more fair way to handle it? Yes. But they hold onto some of these archaic laws as if modern times haven’t given them good opportunities to tweak them.”
“Don’t I know it,” Britton said drily. “However, by rights I should be in Kerker, rotting away in some cell, but they gave me the serum instead. So they are capable of tweaking their laws when they want.”
Val bit her bottom lip, thinking for the first time about his ordeal from his perspective. “What have the last few years been like?”
After he laid the letter down, he picked up the evidence bag again, flipping the blanket over and over in his hands. She’d thought he wasn’t going to respond, but at length he said, “Different.”
