by Neely Powell
Zoe patted her on the back. “He’s trying to intimidate you. Don’t let him get to you. We’ll change the locks again tomorrow, and I’ll take the extra key. You’ll give your kids my cell phone number, and I’ll come whenever they need me.”
Hunter’s anger simmered as he saw the outlines of Eric’s big hands on Kinley’s wrists. Bright red marks were already purpling into bruises.
“Did you call the police?” Hunter knew the answer even as he spoke.
“I couldn’t do anything. I came around the corner from the hallway, and he grabbed my arms. He held them down so I couldn’t move while he was talking to me.”
Her words were choppy, as if sobs weren’t far away. Hunter felt like part of the Spanish Inquisition, throwing questions at her before she had time to think, but they were necessary. “Do we need to take you to the hospital?”
“No.” Kinley wiped her damp face. “I’m sorry, guys. I hated calling you, but I was really scared this time. You’d think I’d be able to take care of myself by now.”
Hunter slipped over to flank her on the sofa and took both of her hands in his. “This is not about you taking care of yourself. You’ll be able to do that once you get your new home established. Right now, this is about you letting us protect you while we convince Eric that you’re serious. You want him out of your life, and you want to live your life on your own terms.”
She nodded in agreement. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Take a couple of deep breaths and calm down.”
Zoe pulled out her cell phone and took some photos of the bruises. “Just for our records,” she said and headed for the kitchen.
She fixed tea and Hunter heated the pizza in Kinley’s immaculate kitchen. They devoured the pie, only able to coax their client into choking down half a slice. Hunter and Zoe took several tours of the house, checking closets and under beds, glancing out the windows to see if they could spot anyone lurking nearby.
Both of them talked to Kinley gently, reinforcing what they had been telling her since she started divorce proceedings.
“You’re right to do this,” Zoe said. “It’s going to be difficult, but we’ll help you through it.”
Gradually, she calmed down.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I would be comfortable staying alone after an experience like this,” Zoe said. “Can you stay with your sister or someone tonight?”
“I don’t know… I’ll be fine here,” Kinley said. “The girls haven’t stayed away from me in three months. I was so happy they wanted to go to Lydia’s overnight. If I go there this late, I’ll just upset them.”
“How about a friend?” Hunter suggested. “Is there someone I can call for you?”
“No,” Kinley said with a disgusted sigh. “To tell the truth, I’ve lost all my friends because of Eric. The ones he didn’t run off with his nasty mouth got fed up with me letting him hurt me and said they just couldn’t be around me anymore.”
Zoe jumped in quickly. “I’ll stay here tonight.” She pitched her car keys to Hunter. “Stop by my place and bring me some clothes on your way in tomorrow.”
Kinley protested, but Hunter and Zoe insisted.
“Just grab me a pillow and a blanket,” Zoe said, “I’ll sleep down here.”
“You can sleep in the girls’ room,” Kinley offered.
Hunter saw the look of dismay on Zoe’s face. He knew that Kinley’s daughters’ room was a vision of pink, ruffles and lace. Worse, dolls and stuffed animals lined every surface. Hunter almost laughed, thinking of Zoe trapped in that room. She hated pink, and thought all dolls were like Chuckie.
He struggled not to snicker as Zoe said to Kinley, “I’d rather stay down here to keep an eye on things.”
Hunter left the two women to work out the sleeping arrangements. He halfway hoped Zoe would end up in the ruffled nightmare upstairs. He could tell by her disgusted look that she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Don’t be afraid of the dolls,” he muttered as she let him out the front door.
“Go chase your tail or something.” She closed the door with a snap.
He laughed out loud and decided chasing something wasn’t a bad idea.
As he folded his six-feet-four-inches into Zoe’s compact BMW, Hunter’s mind and body raced. Maybe it was all the shifting he had done today, but he was revved with energy and excitement. Heading toward the office, he worked out his plans to retrieve his own car and spend the night at Zoe’s house. It was too late to go to his apartment in Jersey City.
Was part of the hum he felt from finding the body in the woods? He still couldn’t wrap his brain around that idea. He pulled to the rear of the driveway behind the office. The street was now clear of police vehicles and officers. He glanced toward the woods, again feeling a tug of exhilaration.
He’d taken that same route home from Mandy’s house three times now when the old man had come home unexpectedly. Her husband was most likely getting suspicious, and that was why he kept popping in early. Probably time to end it with Mandy. He’d sure miss those sweet breasts and long, silky legs.
Going to his office, he quickly undressed and grabbed a bag out of a file cabinet drawer. The flat square with two straps was a small backpack. He could slip it on as a human and it would remain in place while he was a panther. Made from heavy black cotton, it couldn’t be seen in the dark. It ensured he’d have clothes and car keys when he needed them.
Hunter had been roaming these woods off and on since he and Zoe opened the practice. He had never seen or heard anything untoward until tonight. Now he felt an uncertainty that was alien to his confident nature. These were his woods, dammit. A low growl escaped his throat.
He needed to go back through the trees and release some of this jittery energy he felt. He could cover the miles at a dead run and get there almost as quickly as he could by car.
Hunter let his body flow into its animal form. What was once so difficult was now as easy as taking a deep breath. Letting out a low growl, he stretched his lithe cat body and bounded out the open window. He stopped to watch the window slowly close, enjoying that he could take care of these little details with his intense mind control. He’d worked hard to learn this element of his powers. His grandfather promised, as he grew stronger he’d be able to do more. Hunter streaked through the night, sticking to back roads and heavily forested areas. He paused at Lookout Point, a park not far from Mandy’s house. He padded across the parking area and jumped up on top of the marble memorial that honored victims of the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center. He looked out over the leafless trees and sleeping communities that led to the Hudson River in front of the majestic skyscraper forest of Manhattan.
The mournful howl of a coyote echoed through the woods. He jumped down, hugging the shadows of the monument, peering into the bare January trees. Was it just a coyote, or something more? Unease prickled his fur. But he wouldn’t back down or hide. He skirted the darkened monument and surged into the night, once again feeling powerful and in control.
Almost thirty minutes after leaving the office, he reached Mandy’s exclusive neighborhood. His car was in the parking lot of the strip mall where her husband had the first of his chain of dry cleaners.
Keeping an eye out for traffic, he shifted into human form again, removed his small backpack, pulling out the jeans and T-shirt. Near the building and well out of sight of any passing car lights, he dressed quickly, then headed back to the car, shivering. He’d definitely remember to put another jacket in the car.
On the way to Zoe’s, he turned up the radio as Neon Trees sang “Animal.” He stopped long enough to grab a gallon of milk and three sub sandwiches at a grocery store. Changing twice in one night left him hungry. As he drove, he ate the first sandwich and remembered the day he’d learned his family’s genetic secret.
He was sixteen at the time. Summoned to the Manhattan office of his father, Stirling MacRae, he was surp
rised to find Fraser, his grandfather, there too. The two men had looked very tall and stern, standing together in front of the windows. Though over eighty, Fraser was still fit of form, his hair only sprinkled with silver, his intense green eyes alive with the vitality of a man many years younger. Stirling was striking, as well, but later, when he knew the truth, Hunter had realized that the father and son gave off two very different vibes.
On that day nearly thirteen years ago, the two men looked so grim that Hunter was sure his grandmother was dead. He reacted accordingly.
“Is something wrong with Nana Isobel?” Hunter rushed to his grandfather’s side. “Is she sick?”
With uncharacteristic gentleness, the older man placed a hand on Hunter’s shoulder and squeezed. “No, lad,” he said, his Scottish accent as strong as ever. “Your grandmother is well and happy. I’ve come to take to you to our home for a while. There are things you need to learn about your family.”
Hunter turned to his father for the first time. “What’s this all about?”
“Your grandfather will give you all the information you need,” Stirling MacRae said. “I’ve had your things packed so you can leave with him now. You’ll take the company helicopter back to the estate.”
“What if I don’t want to go?”
“That doesna matter, boy, you have to go with me,” Fraser said. “Now, come on, I want to get back to the estate before it gets dark.”
The “estate” was a house as big as a small town in the Adirondack Mountains. The family owned another estate in Scotland, a ski lodge in Canada, a beach house in Hawaii, and a villa in France. But the Adirondack estate was Fraser’s pride and joy. He had it built once he established himself in New York City. As soon as Stirling started taking over the law firm, Fraser and Hunter’s grandmother spent as much time there as possible. Hunter had visited for at least a month every summer until he’d become a teenager and found life in the city more interesting. Since then his visits had been brief, usually with the rest of his family for holidays and his grandfather’s huge birthday celebrations.
Birthdays were big events in the MacRae family—often with several celebrations. While Fraser and Isobel brought family and close friends to the mountains for birthdays, Stirling took advantage of the occasions to host tax-write-off galas filled with clients and business associates. These were must-have invitations for a certain group in the city. You weren’t officially a part of New York society unless your name was on a guest list for a MacRae-hosted event.
Hunter’s sixteenth birthday party had been held at the Marriott in Times Square with Cold Play and the Beastie Boys providing entertainment. Even though his father had filled the club with lots of people Hunter didn’t know, he and Zoe and their friends had enjoyed an evening of unlimited food, music, and games. Hunter smiled, remembering he’d gotten to third base with Lindsey, his new girlfriend. The brand new Porsche his father gave him certainly aided that conquest. Now he was supposed to leave Lindsey and his great car behind to visit grandparents?
“No way,” he muttered angrily. He wasn’t leaving the city right now.
“You have no choice.” Stirling’s face was set in the uncompromising lines that Hunter recognized well.
“It’s time for you to learn about your heritage,” Fraser added, “and for that, you’ll need to be with me.”
“But for how long?” Hunter protested. What was this, anyway? An abduction?
Not answering, Stirling moved around his desk and gestured toward the door. “Go on, the pilot is waiting.”
It was late evening by the time they arrived at the estate. Isobel was at the door and enveloped Hunter in a breath-stopping hug as soon as he stepped inside. He felt comforted by the scent of fresh roses that surrounded his grandmother. She was the only person in his family who seemed at ease in expressing her affection. His father and mother, even his grandfather, had always felt distant to Hunter.
“Ciamar a tha thu?” Isobel placed her hand on his cheek, as she asked him how he was in Gaelic.
“I’m fine, Nana,” Hunter muttered.
Isobel Ferguson MacRae always spoke to her grandchildren in Gaelic, hoping to keep the language alive with the younger generation. Hunter had learned it to please her.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Isobel gave him a firm kiss on the cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
Fraser conferred quietly at the door with Shamus, the aide who was never far from his side. Isobel took Hunter’s hand and led him through the vast foyer to the living room. The glass front of the mansion made it feel like the forest that surrounded the estate was indoors. The landscaping had been carefully designed to present an array of plants and bushes with intricate paths throughout so guests could enjoy walking among the blooms and greenery.
“I need to call Zoe.” Hunter disengaged himself from his grandmother’s grip. “I need to tell her I’m going to be away for the rest of the summer.”
Fraser walked in, for once without Shamus, and said quietly, “Tell her you’ll be here about six months.”
“What the hell will I do for six months?” Hunter shouted. “What about school?”
Fraser grabbed his grandson’s shoulders and gave them a strong shake. “You watch your language in my home. You tell your friend you’ll be here six months, and you’ll write to her. Your schooling will be taken here. That’s all she needs to know.”
“Write her? You mean, like a letter?”
“Of course,” Fraser said.
“What about email?”
“There are no computers available,” Fraser said. “You’ll have plenty of paper and postage.” He placed an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Go ahead, call. Tell her you’ll see her in six months.”
Realizing that arguments were fruitless at this point, Hunter snatched up the phone and turned his back on his grandparents. Zoe kept asking questions, and he kept repeating himself. When she asked him what he was going to do about school for tenth time, he’d yelled, “I don’t know what’s going on, Zoe. I gotta go. I’ll send you a letter soon.”
She cried then. He felt a pang of guilt and a growing depression.
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Tell Brad to stay away from Lindsey. I’ll be back before school is out.”
She was still crying when she hung up. Hell, he felt like crying himself. With him out of the picture, Brad, his rival for Lindsey, had a perfect opportunity. He had no idea what his father and grandfather had cooked up, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be fun for him. He went upstairs to his bedroom without speaking to his grandparents. Shamus brought him dinner, but he didn’t eat.
The next day he and his grandfather hiked through the forest and up the mountain, pausing long enough to eat sandwiches and drink coffee. For the first time in his life, Hunter knew fear. His grandfather wouldn’t talk to him, and he couldn’t imagine what they were going to do in the woods. He couldn’t have talked much anyway; it took all his strength to keep up with the old man.
He adjusted the straps on his backpack, and felt its weight grow heavier. He wondered briefly if they would spend the night in the damp woods with no sleeping bags and shuddered at the thought.
Around sundown he thought the terrain looked familiar. Soon they reached a cabin he recognized from his childhood.
“We could have driven up here, couldn’t we?” he asked. “You’ll sleep well because of the walk. You need to sleep well tonight.” With no further explanation for that mysterious statement, Fraser went to the side of the cabin and turned on a generator. He came back across the front porch, unlocked the door and led Hunter inside.
Hunter was relieved to find the cabin had been modernized since his last visit, with a nice bathroom, a full kitchen and comfortable furnishings. At his grandfather’s direction he stowed his backpack in one of the two bedrooms. The two of them heated canned soup and ate it with crackers, topped off by peanut butter and jelly for dessert. Without being told, Hunter cleaned up. He sensed his grandfather
wouldn’t tolerate him trying to get out of chores while they were here.
Fraser stood. “Shamus will be up here tomorrow with fresh food. He’ll deliver once a week while we’re here. Good night, boy.”
“Are we going to bed? It’s only eight o’clock,” Hunter said, astonished.
“There’s no TV or games here. If you need something to do there’s a good selection of books in the shelves. You might want to take a look at some of the ones about Scottish lore to get yourself ready.”
“Ready for what?” Hunter asked dumbly, but his grandfather had said all he intended.
After doing the dishes and taking a hot shower, Hunter took his grandfather’s advice and selected a book from the shelves in the living room. Though he wasn’t particularly interested in Scottish lore, there were few other choices. He fell asleep with the book propped in his hands. He dreamed of walking through dark, never-ending woods. He kept seeing the bright eyes of predators in the darkness but they never approached.
He awoke to rain pouring on the roof and the smell of pancakes and bacon. Shamus must have arrived with the food. His grandfather had a plate piled high for him when he got into the kitchen. He sat and drowned his pancakes in maple syrup.
Fraser poured himself another cup of coffee and sat across from his grandson.
“It’s time to give you your explanation, boy. I want to you to listen to what I have to say before you make any comments.”
Hunter poured more syrup on a new stack of pancakes and shrugged. What were his choices?
Fraser leaned back in his chair. He sipped his coffee one more time before he spoke.
“My great-great-grandfather Thomas MacRae lived in Nairn on the Moray Firth and made his living with the tavern and inn his father had established. Even though he was approaching his fortieth birthday, Thomas was not married. His reputation as a lover was well-known in the small town, but he had never settled down,” Fraser said, his lips barely curving in a half smile.
“He loved the sea and was walking along the shore one day when a young woman came toward him. She had the red hair and fair skin of a Scot and the beauty of an ancient siren. She looked distressed, and he immediately wanted to help her.
