He looked at her incredulously. “Well, then how did you find out about it?”
She smiled, feeling a little smug. “I’m an investigator. And I’m happy to say that my investigation is going very well.” Harper waited to see what he would have to say to that, but all he could do was blink at her, shocked. Fine. Let him be shocked. It was about time she was the impressive one.
“Oh! Grey, I’ve got it.” She took her foot back and scooted closer to him. “Invite Larissa out. She’s got a crazy high tolerance for alcohol, and she lives for any opportunity to make Black Feather jealous. She’ll be able to tell us what the guys get up to, what they’re drinking, all of it, even if you get fall-down drunk.”
He tucked his chin into his chest, very uncertain about this plan. “Wait, are you telling me to take Larissa out on a date?”
“No, not a date. Just say you’re in the mood to go out, and no one else is interested. And, get this, I hear she can change genders. She’ll blend right in.”
He thought it over and nodded slowly, his mouth shoved into a little pinch on one side of his face. “Yeah, I heard that, too. It’s a fossa thing, apparently. Didn’t she change genders while she was in the prison?”
“Yes! That was so scandalous. The girls were all over her as a male. Promise you’ll behave yourself,” she admonished him with a little smile. He smirked.
“No promises, darling.”
They parted ways shortly after that, Grey on a mission to get Larissa to head over to the bar with him, in male form no less, and to get her out of her home so that Harper could poke around at its base. Neither had any idea what they would find or how they would go about looking, so they just shrugged and stepped out the door. After all, Harper had successfully interrogated the little boys completely by chance and now she had a lead.
Harper made sure to open the window shutters and look busy while Grey went over to Larissa’s place. She was sure the fossa would do her best to get a glimpse of her, and she wanted to give the impression of a young, pregnant lady settling in for a night at home. She started to wash her few dirty dishes at a leisurely pace, humming to herself.
From a far-off distance, she heard the faint sounds of a male and female voice. Was it happening now? Yes, look busy. She grabbed a cloth and started polishing up the window frame as if such a thing could ever be necessary. No matter, it looked good. She moved to the counter and kept wiping and scrubbing, praying this was going well.
A bubbly laughter reached her from several trees away, and her heart sped up. She was laughing. Did that mean she found the idea of going to the bar completely absurd, or was she amused by the idea? Harper prayed it was the former. She could hear Grey’s voice again, and it sounded confident. She moved over to the bed, which was already made and perfectly neat, but pulled the sheet off anyhow and whipped it in the air as if she were changing it.
I’m not much of an actress, she thought to herself. I’ll have to pray the effort is enough. She heard more laughter, now Grey’s as well as Larissa’s, and told herself it was working. Why wouldn’t it? Everyone loved Grey, and Larissa loved nothing more than attention. She especially loved it when men came all the way to her tree via the treacherous, sky-high bridge. Harper put the sheet back on her bed and did her best not to stare as Grey and Larissa moved off of her porch and over to the bridge that pointed west. The two bounded over it at top speed, neither afraid of falling. After all, Grey could fly, and Larissa was extremely nimble in fossa form. No reason to feel any fear of the far away ground.
After they were gone, Harper settled in for a long wait. The sun hadn’t set just yet, and she wanted the cover of dusk to find Marcus’ secret little spot. She had a feeling that something there would give her the clue she needed to really zero in on his killer, but she wanted to be careful.
She sat near her bookshelf and, without even thinking about it, draped an arm over her abdomen. She held her book with the other hand and instantly felt how comfortable the chair was, how soft and inviting. She yawned, then silently admonished herself for doing so.
Got to stay awake. Go to go and find the spot.
Her reminder not to sleep made her instantly sleepier, and she shook her head. She set her book down and slapped her cheeks a little, trying to revive her energy. But she could already feel just how hopeless the situation was; the tiny shifter inside her was demanding sleep and was very difficult to ignore.
Fine, she thought, settling into her chair. Five minutes. But then we go. She didn’t allow any internal arguments to start. She never would have heard them anyway. In less than a few seconds, Harper was fast asleep.
Harper dreamed, but when she tried to remember what she had seen in her sleep, the images eluded her. All she remembered was the moment she woke up and realized it was the middle of the night.
“Oh, great,” she groaned. She went to stand but felt an odd tightness around her belly. She looked down and saw a bump straining against the waistline of her dress, threatening to rip right through it.
“Argh, what next?” She went to her little closet and pulled out the biggest dress she had, but even that left little room for movement beneath the fabric. It would have to do for the evening.
Once she’d changed, she got a small torch and a little flint starter and slipped them into her pocket, praying she wouldn’t need them. If she had to go around with a flame on a stick, everyone would see her, murderer included. She didn’t want to inspire any efforts to stop the investigation before it started.
Harper went to the bridges and slowly made her way down the first. She wanted to ask a neighbor for a ride down, but everyone was fast asleep. She could hear soft little snores coming from different trees and the sound was a nice, reassuring one. Now, all she needed to do was make sure she didn’t give anyone a reason to wake up.
Harper’s feet sank into the dry, scratchy material of the bridge and she held on for dear life as it swung a little beneath her. The old vines groaned a bit, but no one opened a window or called out. She went on, holding the handrails as tightly as she could as she advanced little by little.
At the end of the bridge, she found what she was looking for: a little rope ladder that she could descend. She could just barely make out the shape of the thing, but she couldn’t see further than a few rungs down. She would just have to feel her way to the ground, step by step.
She gulped, tensed her hands on the rope-ladder’s sides until her arms were doubled up, then gingerly stepped down with her feet. The first step held her. Heart pounding and hands sweating, she started her descent into a dark and terrifying mission to find what Marcus knew during his short life.
Chapter Six
A New Way of Seeing
Harper’s feet touched soft grass and wet leaves before they touched solid ground, and that space between the curl of the fallen greenery and the ground beneath felt endless as she made her final descent. She hated every millisecond of it, but she kept going.
Don’t you quit on us now, her new inner voice demanded. We’re almost there. Marcus needs you. No one else is going to do this. It has to be you.
She agreed inwardly but didn’t give her new mental guide the satisfaction of hearing her say it. No way. She made it to the ground with a tentative step and then stumbled away from the bridge as she took in a huge gulp of air. Without even realizing it, she had held her breath the whole way.
Once she had the ground under her feet and her bearings about her, she immediately had to squat down and relieve herself. She was certain that a deluge was about to come out of her, but all that emerged was a tiny dribble. Annoyed, she stood and moved on.
She looked up at her tree, then counted the trunks and figured out more or less where Larissa’s tree was. Once she got closer, she’d use her light.
She stayed close to the trees on Larissa’s side of the main corridor. She told herself she would know it because it was so much bigger than everyone else’s, but there in the dark the trees played tricks on her. They seemed ha
ppy to change sizes and blend together as she tried to keep track of them. Also, the houses were hard to differentiate from Harper’s low angle. Everyone’s floor looked the same from underneath. It was above that layer, up inside their homes, where clues as to the inhabitants emerged.
Harper stopped and tried again. She’d moved five trees down from where she’d started, she was sure. Wait, had it been five or four? When did she start counting? She leaned against the trunk of the nearest inhabited tree and sighed, exhausted and frustrated. As soon as she did so, the urge to pee came back and once again, she squatted for a thoroughly disappointing session of relief. Great. Every shifter would know she’d been there by morning; her scent was everywhere.
She kept going, stretched her hand out in front of her, and her fingers brushed the next trunk. She paused. This trunk felt older, a bit statelier. She attempted to reach her arms all the way around the trunk the way she could with her own, but this one was far too big. She’d made it! Larissa’s tree was right in front of her.
After a silent arm pump of triumph, she walked around it, keeping one hand on the trunk. She couldn’t see a thing. The flowers, bushes, and vines of the forest were extremely thick all around the base of Larissa’s tree, and all their details blended into one another until they became a solid black. She stared into that inky darkness and took a breath, then closed her eyes and waited a moment.
Silently, she begged her eyes to adjust. Then, a little spark inside her lit up. She was in her human form, not her half wildcat state. Perhaps, and it was a big jump, but it was just possible that her wildcat eyes would be able to see in the dark.
Slipping her dress off and laying it over a rock, she dug deep inside her psyche to bring out the inner hunter from deep below her human self. She needed the most cunning, sharpest cat possible, and no substitute would do. She felt her face start to change as her ears slid up, her mouth became much smaller, and her nose flattened against her cheeks. She felt claws slip out from under the skin of her hands and her feet until she felt she could stand on them. Her arms and legs bent oddly, giving her the permanent squat of a feline on its hind legs, and she waited as the little bit of fur she always got sprouted up and down her back, arms, and legs. A bit of it graced her face, but then it stopped.
She blinked. At first, the dark remained. After another blink, it changed. The dark became a soft grey. She could make out the edges of things and eventually see each individual shape as her mind took on the awareness of a cat. She walked away from the tree, which was now clearly Larissa’s. She sniffed the air and found the scent of all the neighborhood shifters, humans, children, and adults. Had Marcus left a smell?
She sniffed again and, while she didn’t smell Marcus or his friends, she did smell something a little off. It was the smell of rotting food.
The sour, acrid smell led her to a large bush. She had to get down on her hands and knees and then flatten herself completely to crawl through the small opening that had been burrowed through it. Someone had left their scent behind here, but whomever it was didn’t smell young and innocent like a little boy, but rather cunning and desperate, like someone who was returning to clean up a crime scene.
On the other side of the bush was a circle of young trees. They had sprung up too close together to get any fatter, so they stood like a tall, natural fence. Harper’s cat claws gently parted them, and she gracefully slipped through. The trees snapped back together behind her, hiding her from the outside world.
She didn’t know it, but at that moment, her lover, Grey, was very, very drunk. He and Larissa had made it to the bar and quickly discovered what everyone was drinking. The clear alcohol was distilled from the skins of the local fruit and had a real punch to it; only three drinks in, and Grey was already reeling.
All around him, men yelled and laughed and jeered. Somewhere in the craziness, there was Larissa disguised as a boy. Some human girls were behind the flimsy little bar, pouring drinks into recycled metal canisters with their edges softened. If someone wanted an actual glass, they had to give the girls a tip.
For the first time in a long time, Grey and Larissa watched money exchange hands. They saw it the moment they walked in, and right away they were struck by how dirty it felt, the trading of pieces of decorated paper for a night of debauchery. One of the girls recognized Grey and offered him and his handsome friend a free round of alcohol in a glass if she could have a kiss. Boy Larissa was amused by the proposition and promptly pulled one of the girls onto her lap to kiss her properly while her colleagues poured the two cocktails.
“First time here?” the human bartender asked. Grey nodded.
“You’ll love this,” she assured him. “Best booze you’ve ever had.”
“You girls make all this yourself?” he asked as he smelled what was in his glass. No scent reached his nostrils. He inspected it a little closer. The stuff was completely clear – not a drop of discoloration was anywhere in sight.
“We got a deal with a little operation just outside the forest,” she told him, smiling. “They only accept cash, which is why we have to charge here. If you need some, we can tell you where there are some secret stashes all around. You’d be surprised how many people went ahead and saved the last of their paper money after coming here. I was sure it was all gone for good. Shows what I know.” She patted his hand and moved on to the next customer who had a one-thousand bachmann bill. Grey heard him asking how much that would buy him, and the girl assured him he could drink all night on that much.
After that, things happened quickly. Grey did his best to chat up the guys around him, but they were so eager to get the clear, fiery water down his throat that no one seemed up for much conversation. Grey shrugged and joined the fray, but he instantly regretted his first drink.
The alcohol had an odd, cleansing effect. It didn’t wash away his sorrow or his sad memories, but rather his good ones. Everything he’d ever loved to look at was gone from his memory – his mother’s face, his father’s proud smile during the days he’d messengered for the president, Harper’s sweet smile, gone. All of it. The only thing left was pain.
It filled him and hardened him. He found himself taking bigger and bigger swigs as the pain inside him increased and demanded that he tend to it. More, it told him. I need more. I need it. Give it to me.
Grey listened and kept drinking, his pain turning to anger. What right did the world have to give him so much hardship, so much heartache and death? His own mother died right in front of him, beaten to death by a gang of humans out to teach the shifter community a lesson. Why did that have to happen? Could anyone tell him?
He glared at everyone in the room, boy Larissa included. There was a new girl on his/her lap, and the sight of them laughing, rubbing their noses together, and stealing soft kisses from one another suddenly looked grotesque. He could see all their blemishes, the insides of their mouths lined with sticky, stretchy saliva, the yellow on their teeth, and smell the horrible scent of lust on their skin.
He stood to confront them, tell them to stop, but as soon as he did, the floor pitched violently beneath him, throwing him into a nearby male human.
“Hey! Watch it!”
Grey shoved the man away from him. Why should he do what this loser wanted? He need to talk to his friends! Why did everyone have to be in his way?
He tried again, holding onto the columns that supported the bar this time. He took a spin around the first one, tripping over his own feet. By some miracle, his drink didn’t spill, so he kept moving, kept downing more of the horrible stuff. For just a brief moment, the alcohol would make his face screw up, and he had to fight to not spit it out. Once he swallowed, it turned to pure fire and burned up every little bit of good inside him, leaving the purest sense of hate and spite he’d ever felt in his life. He felt powerful as it grew. That is, he felt strong and unstoppable until he took his next step. Then the room would tip and spin again, and he found himself reeling.
Somehow, he got to Larissa and found him/
her and the girl laughing loudly at him. Something very funny had happened, but he wasn’t sure what. The girl handed him a second glass and said something about the “happy round.” He had no interest in happiness, so he downed the stuff far too fast, so much so that even the bartender girl called out to “Slow down!” But there was no stopping him. He wouldn’t stop until he was pure darkness, pure hate.
The alcohol hit, and he stood staring at the wall, waiting for it to transform him. As he watched the wall made of small, young tree trunks something alarming happened: the wall he was staring at began to dance. It shimmied and bounced in place. Grey found himself dancing along with it and laughing hysterically. What was this? He still had laughter inside him.
Other men came close to him and linked arms, and they all started to bounce. The girls at the bar sang them a song and they got the beat and then kept going.
“Oh, I’ll have another,
My brother,
My brother!
Why don’t we stay
Right here at the bar?
The night is so warm and girls are so soft
And home is so very far!”
Everyone was elated beyond any state they had ever experienced before in their lives. It didn’t matter if anyone was shifter or human or anything else; they all just wanted to laugh and put their hands on each other’s shoulders for support as the laughter made them double over and hurt their ribs.
“Why, why, why can’t I stop?” Grey shrieked out during his mania.
“It’s the magic of the booze, my friend! The magic has you!”
He looked around to see who was talking, but there were so many faces. He looked over to Larissa and found him/her deep in a kiss with the bartender. Her drink sat untouched on the table in front of her. Grey quickly walked over and downed it before she could remember that they were there to get drunk.
Whatever happened after that point was lost to Grey’s memory. He was sure that it involved a lot of dancing, singing, and running through the open jungle with the other men, but he only felt that these things had happened, he couldn’t be certain they’d actually taken place. All he knew was that he woke up curled up at the base of a tree, his glass tipped over right next to him. He stood slowly, waiting for the pain of a hangover to hit him, but to his shock, there was nothing. He blinked, trying to see if the light had any effect on his eyes, but no, he only felt rested and content.
Briar on Bruins' Peak (Bruins' Peak Bears Book 7) Page 56
