by Laura Taylor
Caleb stood to one side, Eleanor beside him – the two of them the only shifters not participating in the game – and waited while the teams looked over their lists of tasks and debated where to begin. The estate was expansive, with several miles to run to get to some of the tasks at the far side, and back again, and he checked his watch, counting down to three o’clock, the official starting time for the game.
“One minute,” he called, glancing around the huddled groups. The muttering from each team stepped up a notch, then the shifters spread out, each team having chosen an objective and selected the best route to get to their first challenge.
“Ten seconds,” Caleb called, and the last of the shifters took on their wolf form, ready for a mad sprint into the forest.
“Five, four, three, two, one. Go!”
With a chorus of barking and growling, the wolves took off, several of them actually tripping over each other as they raced for the forest, and beside him, Eleanor let out a laugh.
“Ten pounds says Andre’s team wins,” she murmured to him, as she watched the wolves disappear, and Caleb was surprised. He hadn’t taken the elegant, poised woman to be the betting type.
“I’ll put my money on Nikolai’s team,” he said with a grin. “That man’s got more tricks up his sleeve than a magician on show night.”
Eleanor laughed. “That he does. All right,” she said, turning to him and offering her hand for him to shake. “You’re on.”
Cassandra was breathing hard as she slogged her way to the top of a hill. This landscape was deceptive. The wide open spaces made things look closer together than they really were, and she’d decided to climb this hill to get a better view of her surroundings, thinking it would only be a short, ten minute climb.
It must have been twenty minutes later when she staggered to the top, sweat pouring from her, making her wish she’d brought more than just her small water bottle with her. She seemed to have been walking for hours, though without her phone working, she had no real way of knowing the time. So far she’d found nothing of any use, no roads, no signs of habitation, just endless forest and open fields dotted with sheep.
Surely it couldn’t be much further now?
But when she reached the top of the hill, her heart sank. She’d come to a stone wall, a good sign, as it meant she was probably on farm land and could surely follow the wall to some sort of dwelling. But attached to the wall was a large sign, proclaiming in bold, red letters ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT’. There was a length of barbed wire running above the wall, just in case anyone got any ideas about trespassing, and Cassandra stood there for a long moment, weighing up the pros and cons of entering the property.
She looked down at the broad valley below her… and there! Through the trees, she spotted a roof. And then more of the building – a large manor, by the looks of it, several miles off, but it was still her closest option for finding her way back to her friends. And while the occupants of the property were likely private people and wouldn’t be happy with an uninvited guest, she was sure that once she’d explained that she’d got lost while hiking and only needed to find her way home again, they couldn’t be too angry with her.
Satisfied with her new plan of action, she carefully climbed the wall, squeezing between the rough stones and the barbed wire, taking care not to rip her clothes in the process. Then she dropped to the ground on the far side, stumbling as the hill headed downwards in a steep incline, and resumed her trudging walk. At least this part was downhill, she thought, heading for the valley floor and across the centre of the property.
Not much further, she told herself cheerfully. Just a half-hour more, and she would be on her way back to camp, a good meal and a warm fire waiting for her.
Skip slithered down the tree, careful to keep from scraping her legs on the rough bark. She’d just completed the latest task for her team – climbing a tree to a height of at least five metres, and Alexei had snapped a photo of her once she was at the top.
She reached the lowest branch and Tank reached up, catching her slight weight as she slid off the branch and lowering her to the ground. He’d given her a boost up as well, the lowest branch too high for her to reach, and she’d felt as light as a feather as his powerful arms had lifted her.
The next task on their list was to try and fit their entire team into a hollow log. Apparently Alexei knew where one was, the team having taken to communicating via hand drawn pictures, since he spoke almost no English and Nikolai was stationed on a different team, unable to translate for him. Stowing the camera, they all shifted into wolf form and took off towards the clearing at the centre of the estate. The log was at the far end… but Skip had barely taken two steps when a large wolf leapt out of a bush to her right, with a flurry of teeth and loud snarling, and she leapt a foot in the air, yelping in fright. An instant later, Tank was right back beside her… but even as her heart raced, Skip was aware of the sly click of a camera, and she realised she’d just helped Nikolai’s team complete another of their tasks.
Tank, too, realised what had happened before he caused Nikolai any serious damage, and the rest of his team emerged from the bushes, snickering in wolf form before shifting and laughing out loud.
‘Scare one of the other teams’ was on the list of things to do, and Skip tried to look annoyed as she picked herself up off the ground and shifted.
“Very well done! Show me picture,” Nikolai said, laughing, then he bowed to Skip, hand over his heart. “My apologies, little wolf. But you scare so well! Look at your face!”
Skip did, the rest of her team crowding around to peer at the camera, and indeed, her wolf was wearing a twisted expression of utter horror, tongue flopping sideways, eyes opened comically wide.
Revenge was in order, and she glanced sideways at Tank, receiving a nod in return, even as she continued to feign interest in the photo. ‘Steal a shoe from another team’ was also on the list, and Nikolai had just volunteered for the task.
In a flash, Tank had tackled the man, flipping him upside down and ripping his shoe off. And then, before the rest of his team could come to his defence, Tank shoved the shoe inside his jacket and shifted, the shoe vanishing along with the rest of Tank’s clothing.
So that the other team couldn’t return the favour, Skip and the rest of her team mates shifted in a heartbeat, their shoes now safely out of reach of the others, and Nikolai swore fluently in Ukrainian as he picked himself up off the ground.
“Oh, very funny,” he said, trying to sound angry despite his amusement. “But you wait and see. Nikolai has a few more tricks up his sleeve. You will see.”
Down by the river, Caroline was trying to concentrate. The younger wolves on her team – Kwan, Aaron and one of the Russians – were busy building a tower of rocks. The team with the highest tower was the only one to get points for this particular challenge, and they’d taken to the task with diligence… and a little illicit ingenuity, propping up sections of the tower with sticks, filling in cracks with leaves, and even using mud as makeshift cement to hold the thing together. It was nearly a metre tall by now – surely tall enough to win the points – and, less interested in this particular challenge herself, Caroline had volunteered to keep watch while they were busy. There were various tasks on the list that involved ambushing or stealing from other teams, and at the start, she’d been keeping a close eye on the surrounding area, so that no sly wolf would be able to sneak up on them.
Now though, she was finding it hard to pay attention, an entirely distracting sight taking place a short way off. Not thirty metres from where she stood, Andre’s team had arrived. The trees here were well spaced, giving them plenty of room to grow their branches outwards as well as up, and apparently Andre had been chosen to complete his team’s task of having someone climb a tree.
He’d removed his jacket, gun holster and the larger of his knives – for all that they were on their own territory, the more senior members of the pack were always, always armed. And he’d laid the weapons
reverently on the ground, giving stern orders to George to guard them with his life. He’d nodded solemnly, and had faithfully stood guard ever since, not taking a single step away from the pile.
But after a few moments, Caroline had paid no more attention to the weapons lying on the ground. The sight in the air was far more captivating.
Covered now in only a t-shirt that made his muscles stand out in defined ridges, Andre had lithely leapt for the lowest branch, hauling himself up with no more effort than it took Caroline to lift a loaf of bread. He’d climbed quickly, checking each hand and foothold, each movement smooth and deliberate, his balance perfect, and he’d made the whole thing look so damned easy.
God, she needed to get the man out of her head, Caroline thought, aware that even as she scolded herself, she was still watching him climb back down, one of his team mates having taken the required photo. Smooth, controlled, he seemed to flow down the tree, rather than climb. In no time at all, he was perched on the lowest branch, jumping down and landing in a perfect crouch, his thighs momentarily hugged by his trousers in a way that was thoroughly indecent. He tossed his shoulder length hair out of his face in an entirely masculine gesture, and Caroline forced herself to look away.
Too late, though, to avoid being caught by her own team. The young Russian had seen her watching, and he smirked at her, not unkindly, but with the knowing look of one who sympathised with her, but was amused nonetheless. He said something in Russian and let out a dramatic sigh, patting Caroline on the shoulder. ‘Ah, young love,’ he could well have said, and then laughed when Caroline felt her face heat.
“Are you done?” she snapped at Kwan and Aaron, perhaps more sharply than she’d intended, and they both nodded.
“There’s a bird’s nest in the holly bush near the eastern cottage,” Kwan announced, stowing the camera after taking a shot of their prized tower and checking the list. “We need a photo of one, so we should head there next.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Miller was about ready to scream in frustration. After the dogs had arrived, his team – eight men including himself, plus the six dogs handlers – had rushed to the airport and taken the plane to Inverness, landing in the early afternoon. Three SUVs were waiting for them when they arrived, and they’d all piled in, driving at breakneck speeds to the last known location of the mysterious van that the shifter had been driving.
But that was as far as they’d got. A check in with the nearby stores and petrol stations had yielded nothing, nor had talking to the locals. No one had seen the man, or noticed the van. Plenty of white vans around, after all, one man had observed drily, and Miller was infuriated at the idea that they could be so close, and let the man slip through their fingers once again.
They were making one last stop at the local supermarket before they gave up, Miller asking to see the manager and showing him the man’s picture. A shrug and a shake of the head sealed the deal – they were getting nowhere here – when one of the delivery staff happened to walk in the door. He hesitated when he saw Miller and one of his team standing around – they were both tall, intimidating men – but then the manager called him over.
“Hey, Bob, you know this guy?” he asked in a thick Scottish accent, and the delivery guy gave the photo a cursory glance… and then took a longer look.
“Why do you need to know?” he asked, and Miller immediately knew he had seen the shifter.
“These gentlemen are looking for him,” the manager said, nodding to Miller and his partner.
“And you are?” the man asked, not rudely, but with the natural caution of one dealing with intimidating strangers.
“Oh, excuse me,” Miller said, pulling out his fake police badge quickly. “Detective Ashton.”
The man raised an eyebrow at that. “This guy in some sort of trouble?”
Miller thought fast. If he was reading the man correctly, he was likely friends with this shifter, whether or not he knew the truth of what he was, and was just as likely to try and protect him if he perceived Miller as a threat. “No, not in trouble,” he said quickly. “We need to contact him concerning a member of his family. Rather urgently, actually.” He was becoming rather an expert at pulling lies out of his arse, but the stories he concocted worked more often than not.
“Oh,” the man said, frowning with concern. “Then yeah, I’ve seen him. A couple of weeks ago, up on the Windybyrne Estate. You know the one?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“Not many folk do. They’re the private type, keep to themselves. We did a big grocery delivery there a little while back. That guy was helping us unload. Here, I’ll get you the address.”
Minutes later, Miller was off again, his heart racing, adrenaline pumping, the two other cars screaming along behind him.
Hurtling up to the front door was a bad move – aside from the lack of surprise, the shifters could have humans on the property working with them, and while the Noturatii had no problems with shooting civilians on principle, it was to be avoided where possible. Dead bodies tended to attract attention, after all, and a big part of their job was keeping the existence of the shifters a secret from the general public.
So after checking the address, and then consulting a map of the local landscape, they’d settled on a more covert plan. One edge of the estate ran close to a public road, a narrow lane that led nowhere in particular, and wasn’t likely to have much traffic even at the busiest times of year.
They pulled up at the designated spot, leaping out of the vans and rapidly donning Kevlar vests, helmets, arming themselves with multiple weapons. Miller was taking no chances this time around. He’d seen the destruction that the shifters could achieve back in the lab, and while he expected no more than half a dozen shifters at most – assuming they didn’t hit the jackpot and find their missing captive alone – he’d brought along a full squad of fourteen men and six dogs.
The dog handlers strapped the custom made Kevlar vests onto their animals, not just covering their torsos, but caps that protected the dogs’ heads as well – a design that had been taken directly from the shifters’ own use of canine body armour.
Once they were all ready, Miller led the squad to the edge of the property and scanned the landscape. They were at the end of a wide valley, forest covering a large portion of it, a clearing visible through small breaks in the foliage.
Then he froze, listening intently… There, in the distance! Barks. A short howl. The tell-tale sounds of the presence of shifters.
“Let’s go,” he ordered, gun at the ready. “Straight down the hill to the edge of that clearing. Be ready for anything. There’s no telling what these animals are capable of.”
Reaching the bottom of the hill, Cassandra paused to check her direction. Yup, she was still going the right way. She could just see the top of one of the turrets on the manor through the trees, the sun still to her left. She opened her water bottle and drained the last of the liquid, not so worried about conserving it now that she was within reach of a house.
Her path was taking her along the edge of a wide clearing, but she kept to the trees as she went, not wanting to take the slightest chance at being distracted and losing her way again.
She’d just about made it past the clearing and was about to start climbing the hill again, when movement caught her eye. She paused and looked out across the field. Maybe it was a deer? Or a flock of birds? But no, she realised, as she peered through the leaves to get a better look. On the far side, there was a tall, blond man, who looked like he was taking a photo of something. Oh thank goodness! She was found at last! She was about to head over to him, to ask for his help, when a large dog bounded out from inside a fallen tree not five metres from where the man was standing.
Cassandra hesitated at that. She wasn’t generally afraid of dogs, but on a private property like this, it was possible they were guard dogs – particularly one of that size – and she didn’t fancy being bitten for trespassing before she had the chance to explain hers
elf to the dog’s owners.
Then a second dog bounded out of the tree, then a third… holy crap, there were seven of them! What the hell kind of dogs were they, anyway, she wondered. They were a mix of grey and brown. The brown ones looked like some sort of hound, but the grey ones… if she didn’t know better, she would have said they were… wolves? That couldn’t be right. There were no wolves in Scotland. And there was certainly no way people would be allowed to just keep them as pets.
But then as she watched, one of the smaller wolves approached the man and…
Cassandra nearly fainted. The wolf had just… No, it couldn’t be. Wolves didn’t just turn into humans. It was impossible.
Was she dreaming? Hallucinating? What the hell was going on here?
Miller gestured for his men to wait as they approached the edge of the clearing. They’d moved quickly at first, then a lot slower as they got closer, not wanting to give themselves away too soon. The ground was littered with leaves and keeping their footsteps quiet was a painstaking exercise in patience. There were plenty of rocks and shrubs to use as cover, but they moved with the utmost caution, knowing that the wolves had excellent hearing and eyesight well accustomed to pinpointing prey.
Finally, they reached a rocky outcrop a few metres from the forest’s edge, and paused to assess their enemy.
There were eight of them. More than he’d expected, but then again, that’s why he’d brought a sizable squad with him. To be prepared for anything. He signalled for four of the men and two of the dogs to circle around and flank the group, then settled down to assess their capabilities.
Their escaped captive was in human form, seeming to tease a young woman as she danced around him, trying to get a hold of something in his hands, and Miller watched in consternation as the pair struggled. Several men and several more wolves stood around them, laughing and joking, and something about the scene struck an unexpected chord. This was the man who had withstood torture, stared down his enemies from inside a steel cage, shot a man in the head in cold blooded murder and promised Miller himself that one day they would settle their differences in a fight to the death. And here he was, playing with a young woman, a teenager maybe, the girl holding no fear either of the man, or of the wolves standing around her.
