At the edge of her range, she heard the telltale whump-whump she’d been dreading. “Helicopter. Dauro, get in.” She pointed to the passenger door. “We’re just locals, avoiding the tourist beach.”
The yellow and black helicopter came from around the land finger, following the shore line.
“Clusterfuck!” Rosinette’s precise diction made it even more of a curse. “They’re using technology I don’t understand. I can’t hide Nibi and the others in the water and us, too.”
Chantal looked to Dauro for confirmation as he got in and slammed the door shut. He nodded.
She turned the key in the engine. “Hide the others. We just have to hang on until the flam… Oh, hell!”
A second, larger yellow and black helicopter appeared from the same direction as the first one. She pumped the accelerator, and the engine caught. “We’re going back to the creek. More defensible. No place to land helicopters.”
She put the truck in gear and made the reverse Y-turn slowly, fighting the urge to punch it and run. Despite her care, the truck’s tires spun alarmingly before finding purchase on the harder gravel track.
The magic-locator ping came right as their front tires hit the creek bank. She turned left into the mud and headed for an overhanging tree.
“Kelvin, pull out my radio and tell Base we’ve got a wizard and two yellow-jacket helicopters on our ass.”
She pulled under the tree and stopped. If she left the engine running, they’d have mobility, but she didn’t know how much gas they had left because the fuel-sending unit was broken. After a moment’s indecision, she turned it off, but left the key in the ignition.
Kelvin made contact and told Base the bad news. Bless Leticia for her unflappable nature.
Chantal opened the door and got out, moving aside so Dauro and Kelvin could do the same. Closing her eyes a moment, she used her magic to make a detailed map of the immediate area in her head.
Chantal caught Dauro’s eye. “You’re the war leader. How do we act like prey, but not get eaten?”
Rosinette jumped off the back of the truck holding the book. Wyvern magic flared. The muddy area under the truck and all their feet hardened. “I will stay if you ask, Sinchi, but my only skill in battle is desperation. I propose to hide with the book and make mischief from afar.”
Chantal thought Rosinette underestimated herself, but she’d let Dauro make the call.
Dauro hesitated, then nodded. “Can you also hide Kelvin? You need a sentry so you’ll be free to concentrate.”
“Yes.” Rosinette held out her hand to Kelvin. “Your knowledge of technology will be most welcome.”
Kelvin slipped his hand into hers. “Okay.” He turned to look up at Dauro, worry in his eyes. “You won’t leave without me?”
Dauro crouched to pull the boy in for a brief hug. “I won’t leave any of you.”
Even though the telepathic connection was closed, Chantal melted in the wave of Dauro’s abiding love for his friends. The real world needed all the open-hearted people like him it could get.
Chantal reached into the truck to grab the radio and hand it and the charge cord from her belt to Kelvin. “Call the flamingos for help.”
Kelvin nodded and turned to walk with Rosinette.
Wyvern magic flared as the woman and boy walked toward the opposite side of the creek. They faded and disappeared, as if they’d never been there.
Dauro turned to her and opened his mouth to speak, but the larger helicopter flew into view and dove toward them.
She crouched next to Dauro beside the truck and covered her head against the buffeting wind from the blades.
The helicopter slowed to hover above them. A male voice boomed from a loudspeaker. “Stay still and we won’t hurt you!”
It must be the tourist visor hat making her look stupid enough to believe that lie.
She’d been avoiding telepathy with Dauro because it was too tempting and distracting, but now, she had a good excuse. Touching his knee, she energized the connection and sent him her map of the area. Around the tree and upstream through the shrubs?
Around the tree, but downstream. The deep water is closer. Don’t worry. I will swim with you.
That works. She cut off the connection fast to prevent herself from basking in the warmth of his thoughts. She couldn’t afford her hormones and emotions to swamp what few working brain cells she had left. And he deserved freedom to think about what—and who—he wanted, not to be ambushed by the first leopard he’d seen in four hundred years.
Pushing off from the truck gave her enough momentum to get to the tree trunk. Dauro was right behind her.
“Fuckin–” The blaring loudspeaker cut off.
The tree’s branches partially shielded them from the wind, making it easier to plunge into the dense shrubs. Her shirt’s long sleeves had been making her hot and sticky ever since the escape, but she was grateful for their protection from the pointy branches. Unfortunately, her hair was catching on every one of the damn things. At least she was blazing a trail for Dauro, who only had thin hospital scrubs for cover.
The helicopter made two low passes at them. Each time, the buffeting winds slowed their forward progress, but she and Dauro still made headway.
On the third time around, the helicopter slowed up ahead. Two figures carrying heavy, modified rifles jumped out of the helicopter’s open doors and cursed loudly when they landed in the brush. The helicopter rose higher and hovered.
Chantal quickly opened the connection to Dauro. Those will be shifter-rated tranquilizer guns. I can put up a shield, but I can’t do anything else magical when I do. Can’t keep it up forever, either.
Turn south, toward the cliffs.
She did at once, with him close on her heels.
It took her a few moments to realize that’s what he’d planned all along. The straight path had served its purpose of luring the hunters to the ground to even the playing field.
The sounds of pursuit behind them added speed to her feet. Drawing her magical energy, she created the shield behind Dauro. She’d only have to keep it up until they reached the water.
The shrubs ended as the ground beneath her feet tilted downslope. She slowed to avoid slipping on the limestone rubble between the low-growing plants. Dauro moved to her side.
Noise arose and magic pinged them again, this time from the front instead of overhead. Damn! She’d forgotten about the second helicopter. She could almost see the pilot and passenger through the bubble canopy as the helicopter flew toward them.
A sudden cloud of pink arose from the west. At least fifty flamingos, wings wide and feet trailing, flew directly in the helicopter’s path. They were taking a terrible risk, but it made the pilot send the nose up hard.
Which meant the pilot couldn’t see the tentacle-shaped column of water rise from the ocean and wrap around the tail beam to drag the helicopter down. The moment the spinning top rotor hit the surface, the column disintegrated as the helicopter flipped, tumbled, and broke apart.
Crashes and curses came from behind.
The next thing Chantal knew, she was in Dauro’s arms as he leapt over the cliff edge and down.
They plunged feet first into the warm blue water one moment after she remembered she didn’t know how to trigger the kraken charm bracelet she still wore.
Drowning was going to be her least-favorite way to die.
11
This time, Dauro hung on to his treasure when the warm sea embraced them.
The moment his feet hit the murky bottom, he pushed upward with half-shifted strength borrowed from his sloth. Another long-disused skill he was having to relearn in a hurry.
He burst up through the surface and raised his treasure up higher, making sure her head was well out of the water as they gasped for air. Her hat went flying.
She pushed back and twisted in the water to look at him. “You didn’t shift.”
“Aquatic sloths are too big for this part of the world.” He wiped water from his
eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, surprisingly. Let’s find the deeper water before the hunters find us.”
He nodded once, to honor her courage, then turned toward the horizon and started swimming. Not knowing her skills, he chose a slow and gentle frog kick. Through their link that had become stronger the moment he’d shifted to human, he knew fear nibbled at her confidence.
Her crawl stroke reminded him of his African mother, who’d taught that style of swimming to his father’s clan. Surprisingly effective. Chantal pulled ahead despite being hampered by sodden clothes and heavy boots.
He’d been afraid his human body wouldn’t remember how to swim, but with that, at least, he had no trouble. The lightweight tunic and pants didn’t hamper his movements, and Rosinette’s miraculous shoes stayed tight on his feet even when water-logged. Like everything else in the real world, the feel of water on his smooth human skin felt odd but good.
He dove under for a moment to use the more refined magic of his human side to feel for currents.
Greetings, Sinchi Dauro.
A magnificent, dark copper-scaled cougar appeared in a magical current she controlled. Her eyes glowed like emeralds.
Well met, Nibi’ikwe. I’m happy to see you. Thank you for handling the helicopter.
Our pleasure. Rosinette and the boy raised a sudden windstorm and clinging vines to disable the larger one. Her tail switched. Unfortunately, it had already dumped two ekinos into the water, and we don’t know why. Yipkash, Rayapkhal, and I are hunting them. Swim south to the tiny dry island and stay there until we give you the all-clear. I’ll send you a current guide.
Thank you. He surfaced again for air, just in time to feel the current lift and move him to Chantal’s side. Too bad his human lungs weren’t as big as his sloth’s.
Speaking took the breath they’d need for swimming, so he energized their mental connection and told her what he’d learned.
He felt her delight and relief as she figured out how to ride the current. It’s like an underwater moving sidewalk. She continued crawling at a slower pace, turning her head to breathe with each lift of her right arm. What are ekinos?
Giant spiny starfish. Nessireth got one for security. Sunscar said they came from the same laboratory where they made him. Turned out to be no brighter than a barnacle and always hungry. It would eat anything living, but preferred meat, meaning us. She finally traded it for Yipkash and Rayapkhal about twenty-five years ago.
The current curved left, putting them on course for the small island that sported a crowded clump of green trees on its rounded top. The white sand along the shore shimmered with heat.
How did you keep track of years in the demesne?
He liked that she wanted to get to know him. I didn’t, at first. In my former life, the priestesses kept the calendar and told the rest of us when to plant and harvest. The demesne had no seasons. Very confusing. When I made friends with Nessireth’s other captives, I’d ask them about the real world. Sunscar helped the most by teaching me the modern calendar.
How many captives did Nessireth have?
He deeply appreciated that none of her questions had an undertone of pity. Once their story got out, all the captives would be in for raft-loads of that. Seven, when she acquired me. When she discovered I wasn’t the elephant-seal shifter she’d been told she’d get, she traded the others for more exotics. She used me to scare anyone she invited to the demesne.
He thought she’d laugh, but instead, she sent him a wave of sympathy. That must have been hard.
A century of war and invasion was hard. Boredom in the impossible river was hard. Screaming and waving my claws was easy. Her guests angered me. They were there to buy and sell, not make friends or rescue us.
She abruptly pulled her arm back and twisted away. “Something brushed… oh, it’s sand.”
He spiked his legs down and discovered they’d hit the shallows. “Sooner than I expected.” He used his magic to test the water and the shore. “The sand is solid from here to the beach.”
The current carried him a few more yards until he ran aground. After climbing to his feet, he pulled off and folded his sodden shoes and carried them. He couldn’t afford to lose his only pair of shoes in the world to the sucking sand.
Chantal wrung the excess water from her loose, wavy hair as she started slogging toward the shore, high-stepping and slashing with her boots. “Come on, my handsome sinchi. Let’s find some shade. Since we could be here a while, I’ll trade you a spell to repel mosquitoes if you lend me your dryer charm.”
He stayed behind a few steps, as a warrior should. And because her wet clothes revealed her strong thighs and the delicious curve of her hips as he’d never seen them before. Some of his blood supply began diverting from his brain to his groin. He imagined helping her remove the layers one by one, discovering each new part of her–
Chantal laughed. “I think you’re sexy as hell, too, but we’re a little busy right now.”
He must have unintentionally been broadcasting again. “Sorry.” Apparently, his human magic control needed practice, like everything else.
“Don’t be. I would love to overshare with you, but I saw a whole pack of hunters waiting at the portal, not just the six or eight we’ve seen in the helicopters.”
“You’re right.” He consoled himself with the thought that she’d called him both handsome and sexy.
Just before they got to the sunbaked sand, he stopped to put his shoes on. Chantal marched across the narrow bar of sand to the first trees, then turned and waited for him.
The broken shade wasn’t noticeably cooler than the hot sand, and forcing their way through the thick undergrowth of shrubs made for slow progress. Smells no longer nauseated him, but even though he’d vowed to be grateful for everything the free world had to offer, he’d just about had his fill of thorny branches and scratchy leaves.
She finally stopped. “Are we far enough from the shore, do you think?” Her head tilted up as she eyed a tall palm tree. “Too damn skinny to climb and check.”
He sent his magic out for a quick echo. “We’re just about center.”
She took a deep breath and looked up toward the sky. “Your shape-of-the-land magic feels… it’s very handy. Maybe I can expand my map talent to do that someday.” Sweat poured down the side of her face. She wiped it away with her hand, then flicked away the excess moisture.
He unwrapped the chain from his wrist and gave it to her. “Dry yourself first. It must have been maddening to be in the water wearing all those clothes.”
“Tiring, too, since I was a kitty-brain and didn’t get the breathe-underwater spell from Rosinette for the kraken charm. I’d have been in serious trouble without Nibi’s magic current. Not how I pictured my first ocean swim.” She held up the chain. “Pants, shirt, camisole, underwear, socks, boots, and hair.” She followed the words with the short song-spell Rosinette had taught them.
Sorcerer magic flared, and within moments, his hair and thin clothes were dry as a bone. He rubbed his head to get some of the caked salt out of it.
“Oops, sorry.” She held out the chain to him. “I should have been more specific about whose things to dry.”
As he took it and wrapped it around his wrist, she closed her eyes and murmured in a language he didn’t know. Magic flared, then settled on his skin like an all-over caress. Of all the magic used on him in his life, hers felt the best.
Of course it does, mumbled his sleepy sloth. She’s our mate.
“We should be invisible to mosquitoes until morning.” She finger-combed her hair, then gathered and began braiding it with nimble fingers as she looked around.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He’d been wishing for time and privacy, just the two of them, but now, he didn’t know what to say.
Being alone with her for the first time should have happened someplace special, someplace better than in the middle of an inhospitable thicket on a glorified sandbar. For once, they weren’t run
ning or swimming for their lives. Questions crowded into his head and formed a logjam at his throat.
She pulled a flexible pouch off her belt, opened its attached cap, and held it out to him. “Fresh water?”
“Yes, please.” After all the salt water he’d inadvertently swallowed, the fresh water tasted cool and soothing.
“Clever device.” He handed it back to her.
“My mother made it. It’s always full. She’s good with charms.” Chantal took several gulps herself, then put the pouch back on her belt. “I’d like you to meet her and my dad.” Her gaze fell away. “If you want. When you’re ready.”
The uncertainty behind her words worried him. “Why wouldn’t I want to meet them?”
She took a deep breath, then blew it out between tightened lips. “Because I’m crowding you, worse than that fool cougar ever did me. Because we haven’t talked about… anything, really. We barely know each other. Transplanted context memories don’t count.” She shook her head. “We did this all backwards. Telepathy isn’t a bond. I’m the first free female you’ve scented in centuries. There are a million other shifters in the sea.”
“But none of them are my mate. You are.” There, he said it.
Her breath caught as she looked away. She took a deep breath, then returned her gaze to his. “My leopard says the same, and I want that. Want you. You’re generous and clever. Your scent tops my spark gauge every time. Shifter-mate magic is everywhere you are.”
Her expression turned troubled as she shoved her hands in her pockets. “But shifter-mate biology and magic tell us who our mates could be, not who they must be. A butthead fairy subverted your destiny for four hundred years. You and I met in extraordinary circumstances. You’re still dependent on me. I’m an even worse butthead if I take advantage of that.”
Her words soothed and hurt at the same time. To give himself time to think, he cleared brush from around a downed palm trunk so they could sit. Shifters had amazing strength and stamina, but they both needed time for recovery.
“Before my captivity, I spent decades becoming a strong and wily warrior so clans would want to keep me. Even in mixed clans, alphas only tolerated me because I didn’t want their position. Priestesses ignored me. I had friends, but my free magic and the size of my sloth scared them. I had lovers, but we weren’t mates, and no shifter female wanted to chance bearing another one of my kind.” He smiled wryly. “Even with shifter senses to help with timing, our only birth control back then was luck and magic. Mostly luck.”
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