by Dani Harper
She needed more time to prepare. On the other hand, no amount of time would ever be enough, not for this. Baker called it a covert mission, but with Neva’s luck, it would morph into a full-scale confrontation. Better to just get it over with.
“Wake up,” she said. “We’re in the Sunshine State.”
Baker grunted and slid his sunglasses down his nose. “That’s Florida. California is the Golden State.”
“Sunshine,” she persisted, more to keep him talking than anything.
“It won’t be fucking sunshiny where we’re going.”
“Well, didn’t you wake up cheerful.”
“I’m not awake.”
“You’d better get awake. We’re nearly there.”
He sat up and stuffed the sunglasses into the visor, furrowing his brows and only succeeding in looking cranky. Amateur, she thought. Baker’s forehead lacked the expressiveness of Travis’s—and the attitude. There was a frown that could speak volumes. And it would look really good to me right about now.
Baker’s substandard frown lifted when the road took them through a vast forest of redwoods and Douglas firs. The living giants were breathtaking, and it seemed as if the SUV shrank down to the size of an insect as it rolled by them. The shafts of sunlight that fell through the towering branches was nothing short of glorious, and Neva couldn’t help but think this was a good thing to see before—well, before anything final happened.
So much for positive thinking. But then, she had no illusions about what she was up against and what her chances were. She glanced at Baker. You’re sure you know your way around?
I know where to look for Riley. I figure your Travis is in the same place.
It would have to do. They were insane, of course, she and Baker both. Once having escaped Meredith’s house of horrors, how could anyone go back there? Yet her resolve hadn’t weakened. If anything, it was reinforced.
She had to find Travis. Migrating birds felt the tug of the seasons. They flew hundreds, even thousands, of miles because it was a life imperative. And they knew exactly where they were going, even if they’d never been there. Just like what she was experiencing now—Neva felt the irresistible draw of an invisible cord, a pulsing, living connection that pulled her toward Travis. Has to be some kind of a Changeling thing. She almost believed she could find him without knowing where he was, and that was disturbing. How far did this weird new ability go? Did werewolves automatically sense each other?
If so, how long would it take Meredith to find her?
Enemy territory loomed before them—literally. With the redwoods towering two hundred feet and more, and Douglas fir and Sitka spruce nearly as large, Baker’s six-foot-one frame felt abysmally small. The giant trees shared their territory with smaller species, sure, but it was all relative—many of the big-leaf maples and red alders he could see were more than a hundred feet high themselves. What it came down to was the bitch queen not only had an unbelievable amount of real estate, but most of it was old-growth forest. I didn’t think anyone could still own that—isn’t it like a national treasure or something? Maybe the property dated back to an earlier time and laws that were more lax about such things. Besides, as his dad was fond of saying, money talked. And Meredith de la Ronde seemed to have more money than God.
Whatever the land title said, they were going to have to walk in from here. It was just as well. Although they’d filled the tank before they left, the gas gauge was already hovering near empty. Remind me never to buy one of these, he thought in disgust. Even his dad’s ’79 pickup got way better mileage than this shiny new guzzler.
Neva and Baker hid the SUV, pulling it off the road and stacking branches and leaves on it. With luck, no one would see it. They’d compared notes about their respective escapes, and their consensus was that the guards usually stayed clear of the forest area. Strange to have such a natural playground for wolves but not let anyone use it. Maybe Meredith was concerned that the raw appeal of the wilderness might lure her wolves to desert her. The patrols seemed to be reserved for the walled perimeter of the mansion itself, with its vast manicured lawns, flagstone patios, and a pair of lake-like blue swimming pools.
Baker stripped off his clothes—noting he’d missed a price tag on the jeans—and stuffed them into a garbage bag. The package fit into a scraped-out hollow between the forks of one of the more normal-size trees he’d seen since this morning, some kind of oak. He scattered a thick layer of dead leaves and forest-floor debris over the black plastic to hide it and stepped back. The camouflage gave away no secrets. If only he could disguise himself that well…Naked, he stood for a moment, calming himself, then signaled his wolf.
The transformation was almost instantaneous. And painless, too—he never failed to be grateful that it wasn’t like the first fucking time. He shook himself all over like a wet dog, as if settling the wolf hide into place. Senses were in high gear now: eyesight, hearing, and most of all, scent. The intense smells of the primeval forest called to something wild in him, and he nearly strangled trying to keep himself from howling.
Behind a clump of ferns tall enough to hide her completely from sight, Baker knew that Neva had shed her clothes as well. She was pretty, and he’d love to catch a glimpse—fair was fair, and she’d seen him, right? But he was having enough trouble keeping his shit together just from the effects of the scenery. Fortunately Neva was putting more clothes on, an outfit that her fucking royal richness, the bitch queen, would actually be caught dead wearing. Baker had no doubt that Neva could pull off this part of their plan—it was scary how closely she could resemble her sister when she put her mind to it. It wasn’t just the dramatic change in her hair—it was the attitude, the condescending tone of voice, the body language that screamed, Look at me, look at me, look at me. Neva could mimic Meredith to a fucking T.
Still, when she stepped out from behind the ferns, he lost his breath. Her newly blonde hair had been loosed into long golden waves. A satiny white blouse showed off the roundness of her breasts, and a black stone pendant nestled between them. Her black leather leggings looked painted on, and continued into tall equestrian boots with tiny silver spurs. “Meredith favors stilettos,” Neva explained. “But I can’t walk in the damn things, and I’d never make it through the woods to the mansion. I’ve seen her wear boots like these once in a while, though, so I hope I can get away with them.”
They look fine, said Baker. At least he thought that was what he said, but he was no longer looking at the boots. His eyes had already traveled back up to more interesting places—until he noticed she had something in her hands. Hey, what the hell? I’m not wearing a fucking dog collar!
“It’s not just any collar.” Neva took a step toward him with the wide, coal-black loop, and the scent of rich leather assailed his nostrils. “It’s designer,” she said, as if that explained everything. “Do you have any idea how expensive this was?”
I don’t care if it’s got diamonds the size of peanuts.
She rolled her eyes. “There are no diamonds. Didn’t you notice that some of her wolves wear something like this?” She waved the collar at him. “It’s some kind of badge of office. I figured maybe you’d be less likely to be stopped or questioned if we get separated.”
Okay, so he’d seen a few collars on members of the pack, but hadn’t known what they were for. He eyed the leather suspiciously. What happens if I turn back to human while I have that on?
“Nothing. It’ll disappear into the twilight zone, just like your clothes do. Besides, look at it, Baker. In order to go around your big, fat wolf neck, it’s nearly the size of a belt. You’re not going to choke or anything.”
In the end, he allowed her to buckle it on. Loosely. Appearing to be somebody important might be useful—and he couldn’t afford to pass up the slightest advantage.
Don’t like.
He nodded as he recognized his inner wolf’s voice in his head. You and me both, bud. As he led the way for Neva, checking for the easiest route, he wonder
ed at the bizarreness of talking to his alter ego. If his inner wolf was on the outside right now, then his human mind was on the inside. So did that mean he was hearing the wolf’s voice in the wolf’s mind or in his own? Puzzling over that existential dilemma, he failed to sense a threat until it was upon them.
A pair of white wolves erupted from a tall stand of rhododendron trees. Fortunately, Neva’s alter ego was paying attention and she dove to one side, shifting form as she rolled—
And came up biting and snapping.
The scene was confused and surreal, a mad scramble of dark and light pelts, as Baker and Neva battled their attackers. A flurry of magenta blossoms filled the air as if someone had viciously shaken a water globe, and tufts of fur began to join them. Neva had never fought as a wolf before, but she didn’t have to figure out what to do. Instinct was in charge here. Her wolf spun and dodged, bit deeply, and leaped away. Her small size was an advantage, and she was fast. Baker was duking it out with the biggest wolf, but she couldn’t spare him a look. She could only feint and strike, slash and retreat out of reach.
Her vision reddened, and gradually she backed her opponent up against a fallen redwood. Snake-fast, she ducked under its guard and caught it solidly by the throat, just under the jaw. Neva sprang straight up, which threw the larger wolf off balance, and brought it crashing to the ground with her on top. Her jaws were still clenched around the vital spot, her teeth already breaking the skin beneath the thick snowy ruff. Every impulse was screaming at her to deliver the final bite, to kill her enemy and—
No.
Her wolf strained to fulfill its instincts, and Neva could barely hold it back. I said no! I’m not a murderer, and I’m not going to start just because I’m a werewolf.
No kill? Her alter ego was clearly puzzled.
Travis said Changelings don’t do that. No kill, just hold on, okay?
It complied. Relieved that she’d won the battle with her own wolf—at least for the moment—Neva turned her attention to the owner of the furry throat that was oh so vulnerable between her teeth. Scent informed her of several things right away. One, the white wolf was terrified, and two, it was older than she was. Three, it was female. And four—
You’re okay? Baker’s mental voice sounded breathless, which was strange. That’s when she realized there was only panting and gasping behind her—the other combatants had broken off their struggle to watch what she was going to do next.
Fine. You?
My dancing partner’s really worried about his pal.
I want to know what’s going on. Why was I attacked? She was directing her mindspeak to the wolf beneath her, but it was Baker who answered first.
Well, duh! You look like the bitch queen herself.
And thanks a lot for blowing my cover. Neva made a silent mental note to smack him in the back of the head later, and to get him to practice focusing his thoughts more. You don’t get it. Nobody attacks Meredith; nobody would dare. At least not anybody in their right mind. She redirected her attention to the creature whose life she held between her teeth. Who the hell are you guys?
The white wolf’s eyes opened wide, and the helpless jaws worked as if to form words. I—I—you’re not Meredith!
Please don’t kill her. The new voice sounded young. And scared.
Travis had gone over every square inch of his cell from floor to ceiling, looking for any possible weakness he could exploit. There were none. He’d examined the door in particular, to no avail. If any of it had been designed for humans, he might have been able to use his Changeling strength against it. As it was, the best he could probably do was tear the grating off the window. He’d be free as a bird then—if only he could Change into a tiny sparrow instead of a wolf.
He was dozing fitfully on the hard steel bench when suddenly his blue eyes snapped open. There were human footsteps, small but purposeful ones, in one of the outer corridors. He had to strain to hear them until their owner came a little closer to the lockup area. Then he didn’t need to try at all—the person began deliberately scuffing the soles of their shoes as they approached. Obviously someone knows better than to surprise Changelings.
He rose and peered through the grated window in the metal door. Zarita Arandas was a small woman, pretty, nicely curved—and alert. Headed toward Riley’s cell with a red plastic tote, she sensed Travis watching her. She stopped still and glanced around carefully until her black eyes caught sight of him. “¡Hola! You must be Ms. Meredith’s latest toy.” She smiled and approached his door, where she could peer up at him. “She is very excited about working with you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not very excited about it,” said Travis. “And I’m no one’s toy.”
“A toy does not have to be willing in order to be played with,” she pointed out. “The cat does not need the mouse’s permission.”
Zero points for her ability to cheer people up. He decided to cut to the chase and switched over to mindspeak. So what’s your story? Riley says you’ve been here a long time. Why aren’t you gone?
Many emotions crossed her face at once, and the smile disappeared as if it had never existed. Looking into her deep, dark eyes, it became obvious that Zarita Arandas was a haunted woman. She shook her head at him. Do not ask questions like that here. “I have things to do,” she said and walked away briskly. “I will be bringing food and water later. Maybe two hours, maybe three.” Reaching for the keypad on Riley’s cell door, Zarita paused for a nanosecond, her body angled just so.
Long enough for him to see the numbers she was punching in.
Travis listened, but there wasn’t much conversation after the initial greetings. He discerned the snick of scissors and rustling noises—probably removing dressings—and the tsking sound Zarita made. “Your wounds are not healing nearly fast enough,” she said to Riley. “Your wolf body will help you, but you need more food, more nutrition. I will see that you get it, but you must make an effort to eat it.” She whispered then, so low that Travis almost didn’t catch it. “Por favor. If you do not regain your strength soon, Ms. Meredith will have you killed. Comprende?” Aloud, she said exactly what she had said to Travis. “I will be back in two hours, maybe three.”
Why the repeat? Travis frowned. Zarita had shown him Riley’s combination and specified a time period. What, did she think he could somehow rescue the guy? I can’t even get out of my own damn cell.
If she heard him at all, she didn’t answer, but a growing noise in the outer corridor made him look up. He peered out of the grating and recognized the men approaching. They were the same guards who had unknowingly “rescued” him from Meredith’s underground lair earlier. Big, beefy guys, all of them, they’d make great bouncers for heavy metal concerts, or perhaps enforcers for biker gangs. Travis knew he could take them on one at a time and win, whether they were armed or not. Whether they were in human form or not. He could tackle three or four at a time and probably come out on top, even if his inner wolf didn’t show up to help him. But there were ten of them, and they weren’t stupid. One thing he’d noticed early was that Meredith didn’t employ idiots. Conclusion: they were coming to get him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Of course, nobody said he had to go quietly. But then the honor guard would double up on their efforts, and he could end up knocked out, drugged, hobbled with heavier shackles—or all three. He could play along, but they wouldn’t trust him if he was suddenly cooperative, either. No, he needed to pretend he was in dire shape—maybe even act a little frightened. Christ, that wouldn’t be too hard if they were taking him back to Meredith’s underground playroom. Only a moron would go back there willingly. They oughtta believe it if I drag my heels a bit. And while he was dragging those heels, he’d be watching for anything, anywhere, that might help him escape.
TWENTY-THREE
I started it. I was going to kill you.
Neva’s jaws were beginning to ache, but she maintained her grip while shifting her position enough to get a better
look at her vanquished foe’s partner. The other white wolf was every bit as tall as Baker’s gray form—but not as heavy. Not yet. It would fill out later, when the human who belonged to the animal persona was full grown. Crap. How old are you?
I’ll be seventeen in—
You’re a fucking kid? Baker sounded incredulous.
I’m not a kid! And I can kick your fucking ass!
Nathan! the fallen wolf interjected. Don’t hurt him, please. He thought you were Meredith. We both did. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to stop him.
Double crap. As if being a werewolf and a thief weren’t bad enough, now she’d been reduced to attacking mothers who were protecting their children. Neva wanted to just let go and slink away, but she needed a few more answers before she released her prisoner. Who are you, and what are you doing out here?
Sonje Berendsen. I’ve been head chef since we were brought here a couple years ago. Nathan helps me in the kitchen. But he’s bigger now, really strong, and somebody noticed him. This week, they tell me, he’s going to be assigned to guard Meredith’s workroom. Downstairs! I had to get him out of there. Those guards—they don’t come back, you know.
I’ve heard that. Neva had never been to the lower levels of the mansion, but according to the staff whispers, anybody who worked down there didn’t last very long. As for why, there was no shortage of grim and ghastly speculations. Knowing her twin, the rumors were probably all true. She opened her jaws and drew back. I’m sorry. You can get up now.
Nathan suddenly wedged himself between Neva and the wolf she had bested, growling until his mother reprimanded him again. Sonje rose then, limping a little, and leaned against her son. That’s when Neva looked around and realized they were all wounded. Baker had a long slash across his flank, and one ear looked positively chewed. Nathan had several gashes around the back of his neck and a savage bite mark down one front leg. Neva was bleeding as well, from claws that had raked her belly and muzzle. She resisted sighing, but goddammit, the whole purpose of her disguise was so they wouldn’t have to fight their way into the mansion. Instead, all four of them looked like they’d just battled their way out of it. How did you get away? she asked suddenly.
