“No, thank you.”
He nodded his head before scanning the darkened horizon. He seemed anxious. His hands nervously fiddled with the watch at his wrist. I leaned back in the rocker, allowing the motion to relax my muscles as I waited for Mr. Ortiz to tell me the problem. He’d been extremely vague on the phone. Whatever he was about to tell me was clearly difficult for him. Lucky for him, I was in a patient mood, and so I waited.
Declan sat motionless beside me, though his eyes never left Mr. Ortiz’s face.
“A creature has been killing my livestock, my goats,” he said, his voice a hushed whisper as if the creature might hear him.
“A creature?” I asked, hoping he would be more specific. There were several breeds of creatures out and about these days. I was going to need a little bit more information if I was going to help him out.
Mr. Ortiz nodded. “Where I come from, this creature is a myth. A legend told from generation to generation to keep our children in line, but now, it is real and it is here. I have seen the monster with my very eyes. It was tall. Nearly nine feet with a hunched back. It had leathery skin and razor spikes running down its back.” His eyes grew wide as he described the creature to us. His fear was palpable. Whatever he’d seen, it had scared the hell out of him. Nine-foot-tall creatures with spikes down their back and leathery skin weren’t something I’d heard of, though. Part of me wondered if perhaps he’d stumbled upon a shifter in their warrior form, a blend between human and shifter that often made them twice as large and twice as scary. If he’d seen one at night, it wouldn’t be unheard of for his imagination to exaggerate what he was seeing, convincing him that the monster before him was the monster he’d grown up fearing as a child.
“Do you know what it was?” I finally asked, curious as to the name behind this mysterious monster. He nodded, running his hands through his graying hair and looking everywhere but at me. I could tell he didn’t want to say it aloud, so I waited until he was ready. Seconds passed, turning into minutes until finally he released a breath.
“La chupacabra,” he whispered.
I barely made out the words, but when I did, I had to fight the snort that wanted to escape me. He had to be kidding. The chupacabra was a myth. The idea that he’d seen a shifter in warrior form was becoming more and more likely by the second. But this was a job, so I’d play my part, confront the shifter if he came back, and collect my paycheck.
As Mr. Ortiz continued to speak, explaining in detail how he’d watched the chupacabra slaughter several of his goats, I watched Declan from the corner of my eye. If the person behind the goat slaughter wound up being a shifter, I wondered how Declan would handle it. Declan ran the Pack with an iron fist. An incident like this would not be swept under the rug. He couldn’t condone such behavior that led humans to fear them even more than they already did.
“How many attacks have you seen?” I asked.
“There have been three,” he said, “but I have only witnessed one. One was enough.” I could imagine. He rubbed his palms on the front of his jeans. The movement was jerky from his hands shaking.
“What did the monster do with the animals after it had killed them?” Declan asked. I gave him a hard stare. What the heck kind of question was that? Did it really matter what the creature did with the dead animals?
Mr. Ortiz seemed to think it was a completely rational question, though, because he didn’t even hesitate with his response. “It bit into their necks and sucked the blood from the animals until they were bled completely dry. Then it moved on.”
That didn’t sit right. Shifters did attack animals in their beast forms, but they wouldn’t suck them dry of blood. That was more of a vampiric behavior. But vampires didn’t look like animalistic monsters, and they didn’t consume animal blood. At least not that I was aware of. I supposed if a vampire was starved enough they may drink animal blood, but that still didn’t explain the physical description.
“Do you still have any of the goat bodies around the property?” I asked.
He nodded and rose from his seat, leading us around the home to a small outcropping of barn-like structures. Behind one of the buildings was a shallow ditch, haphazardly dug from the looks of it. I pulled out my cell phone. Utilizing the flashlight feature I illuminated the ground around us. The smell of decaying flesh hit my senses as we drew close to the ditch. I wrinkled my nose and peered over the edge. I clenched my fist at my side to keep from covering my nose and mouth, and fought to hold back the vomit threatening to escape. I failed miserably. I turned away and placed my hands on my knees in an effort to control the contents of my stomach. Come on Aria. Hold it together. My stomach lurched, as an acidic taste filled my mouth.
I wiped my mouth as I rose, using the nearby apple tree for support. The two men beside me looked anywhere but at me as I pulled myself together.
I swallowed, my throat burning, and took several steps closer despite the stench. I held my phone high and scrutinized the remains, ignoring the discomfort I felt. Resting atop one another, there looked to be at least seven goat corpses. Their bodies were covered in a fine layer of freshly fallen snow that was already melting; this evening had grown slightly warm. Mr. Ortiz hadn’t been lying when he’d said they’d been bled dry. They looked like husks of their former selves.
I considered taking a closer look. I really didn’t want to, but, well, duty called. I crouched down, preparing to hop into the ditch, but before I could take the leap, Declan launched himself over the edge in a graceful pounce and landed on the balls of his feet beside the bodies. I looked to Mr. Ortiz, shrugging my shoulders to his unspoken question, and waited while Declan took a closer look. He crouched down low on his haunches as he peered at the bodies, moving their heads this way and that.
“Find anything interesting?” I asked.
He shook his head. After a few more minutes of poking and prodding, he reached up and used a tree root from the nearby apple tree to help pull himself out from the ditch without ruining his clothing or appearing too shifter-like. As he crested the top, I wondered how he was dealing with the smell. From my safe distance, I could already feel my tear ducts working on overdrive as the smell forced my eyes to water, yet Declan looked completely unfazed. Given his enhanced shifter senses, I was surprised he could come within fifty feet of the bodies.
“You were right when you said they’d been bled dry,” he commented. “They’re little more than skin and bones at this point, but aside from the lack of blood, nothing seems overly unusual about their deaths. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were attacked by wolves or coyotes based on the claw and bite marks. Natural ones would have been my first guess, but there isn’t anything natural about this. An animal wouldn’t have left the flesh intact. They would have eaten the meat, not wasted it. A shifter would have done the same. These”—he indicated the goat bodies below—“don’t smell right.” He wrinkled his nose in a gesture of disgust before looking away. There was something he wasn’t saying, but I’d ask him about it later. Whatever his reason for silence, it was likely a good choice.
“What do you mean when you say they don’t smell right?” Mr. Ortiz asked. His voice grew very even, but his eyes were wide, as though he already knew the answer and was dreading it. Declan seemed to know this too, so with a slight incline of his head and a casual smile, he loped off back towards the car, leaving me alone with Mr. Ortiz.
“He’s a shifter,” Mr. Ortiz said, apparently assuming Declan was out of earshot. I knew Declan could still hear him, but I chose not to mention it.
“He is. You just had the pleasure of meeting Declan Valkenaar, the Alpha of the Pacific Northwest Pack.” I let that sink in for a moment, watching as panic seemed to flood his eyes. Almost as quickly as it came, it receded, and he gained a bit more respect in my eyes. Realizing that you’d been in the company of a shifter, let alone the Pack Alpha, without having realized it, was a lot to take in. Especially when you were a farmer used to being away from paranormals and their po
litics.
“I suppose I should be grateful that he came and checked things out,” he said finally. I nodded in agreement. I knew just as he did that had Declan even scented a shifter in the area or that this had been a shifter attack, he would have handled it.
“Did you notify the Human and Paranormal Enforcement Division?”
“The HPED?” He spit out a tobacco chew and made a sound of disgust. “I did, and they said they wouldn’t help. They wouldn’t even come out here to investigate, claiming that it wasn’t their problem.”
It figured. The HPED only responded to human-related issues. While Mr. Ortiz was certainly human, a monster hunting down his herd wasn’t a human problem. Until a human death resulted from whatever was attacking the goats, the HPED wouldn’t care. They didn’t seem all that concerned with preventative measures, either.
“Well, why don’t I stay here for a few days and see what I can come up with?”
He nodded. “You can stay in the barn, if it suits you.”
To be entirely honest, I wasn’t thrilled about sleeping in a barn, but I couldn’t really ask to stay in his home, either. Safe and sound, tucked away within a house, I’d miss all the action as well as any noises that could alert me to an intruder, so the barn it was. He led me back the way we’d come and showed me inside the nearest barn. It was surprisingly clean for a barn, and thankfully it didn’t appear as though any of the animals slept within its confines. Most of the enclosure was filled with hay, farming tools, and seed. More of a storage barn than anything. It was also insulated, so I wouldn’t freeze at night. In the back corner was an unused horse stall, the majority of it packed with piles of hay.
“It isn’t the best accommodation, but with some blankets, the hay piles will make a soft bed,” Mr. Ortiz said.
I nodded in agreement. It would do. I told Mr. Ortiz that I’d be back in a few hours. I needed to retrieve some personal belongings if I was going to be staying out here, and I needed to get rid of Declan so I could do my job.
When I reached my car, Declan pulled me aside. “What is it?” I asked.
“Whatever did that,” he said, waving his arm in the direction I’d come from, “it isn’t an animal I’ve ever come across before.”
I shrugged my shoulders. Why was that important?
“Aria, I’ve been around a long time. Longer than it would appear.”
I knew that already. Shifters had longer lifespans than humans, so while Declan outwardly appeared to be in his early thirties, what little information I’d been able to dig up on him said he was in the upwards of mid to late fifties. Likely older.
“It worries me that I’ve never encountered anything like this before. I don’t think you should take this on by yourself.”
I thanked him for his concern, but I was a business owner now and I had a job to do. There was only so much babysitting a girl could tolerate in one day, and work was where I was putting my foot down.
That night, crickets chirped and the wind whispered its secrets, but no monsters came out. I spent most of the night wide awake, waiting for the slaughter that my mind conjured up every time I closed my eyes. When morning finally came and the sound of a rooster could be heard, my eyes finally closed and my body relaxed into a restful state of sleep. Mr. Ortiz didn’t bother me until noon, a fact I was grateful for. He entered the barn with a tray of food that smelled like heaven.
“It isn’t much, but I figured you’d be hungry. I’d have brought food sooner but it didn’t look like you were awake yet.”
I eyed the tray with eager anticipation and dug right in to the chicken pot pie with enthusiasm, much to Mr. Ortiz’s delight. He’d brought along some hot cocoa, which I drank as though I were a twelve-year-old child. It wasn’t coffee, but it would do. I spent the afternoon wandering around the farm. A broken sea of clouds gave just enough cover from the sun’s harsh rays. The chill was gone from the air, so I left my heavy coat in the barn, choosing to wear a pair of jeans, my black leather boots, and a cowl-neck sweater.
I helped feed some of the livestock to pass the time. I’d grown up not on a farm, but out in virtually the middle of nowhere, much like this. Trezzi Farm wasn’t too far from town, but closest neighbor was still miles away. My family had owned forty acres. No neighbors as far as the eye could see. It was quiet, peaceful. I’d forgotten how much I missed that way of life. We hadn’t raised any animals, or even any crops for that matter. I think my Dad had just liked the solitude of it all. After my parents’ death—well, after my father’s death—I couldn’t take the quiet anymore. It gave me too much time to think, to dwell on the reasons for why my family had been taken from me.
I still couldn’t believe my mother was alive. I’d lived the last six years thinking she’d been murdered just like my father, only to find out in the last month that she was alive and well, carrying on with her life as Viola Reynolds. I wondered if she’d bothered looking for me. After their deaths, I’d packed up and left without ever turning back. As far as I knew, the property was still in my family’s name. I’d never bothered claiming it, or trying to sell it and with the lack of government, I didn’t have to worry about taxes. The land held too many memories. But now I wondered if she’d ever gone back. If she’d sold our home, or what was left of it.
I could still hear the crackle of the flames, could still smell the smoke of burning wood and feel the sweltering heat against my skin. I’d burned it down as I watched my father die, my emotions raging out of control from the grief. There wasn’t a home to go back to, but visiting Mr. Ortiz’s farm had made me want a home to go back to. A month ago when I closed my eyes, I’d still see my mother, her hair pulled back in a long French braid, an apron coated in flour around her waist, and my father with his arms around her, dancing with her in the middle of our living room. They’d been so happy, so in love. Sometimes, if I tried hard enough, I could hear their laughs.
Now, I saw my mother in a glamorous evening gown, her brilliant smile wide as she greeted the audience in front of her without a care in the world. Without any hint of concern for the daughter she hadn’t seen in years or the husband she’d lost so viciously.
She wasn’t my mother anymore. Now she was a leading member of the Human Alliance Corporation. The very organization that Inarus worked for. I knew the HAC had been behind the death of Daniel, the seven-year-old boy I’d found brutally murdered over a month ago. Inarus had admitted as much. If the HAC was involved, then my mother’s hands were dirty as well. You can’t lead an organization and not be aware of its dealings, and if I found out that she’d ordered any of it, blood ties or not, I’d make her pay. One way or another.
It didn’t take long for the sun to set once again. Boredom was starting to set in, and I was beginning to wonder if this mysterious monster was ever going to show its face. I situated myself on my makeshift bed, rolling to the side in an effort to get into a comfortable position, when I heard a distinct buzzing in my mind. I waited for it to fade away, knowing that Inarus was likely to drop something off and then port away like he usually did, but when it persisted, I sat up and scanned my surroundings.
The barn was cloaked in shadows, but there was still enough light for me to make out a silhouette, a familiar one. He was tall, his shoulders broad as he stood several feet away.
“What do you want?” I asked, getting to my feet as though I didn’t have a care in the world.
He stepped closer, out of the shadows. A sliver of light washed across his face, illuminating the ocean-blue color of his eyes. A slight grin rested across his face, and before he could answer me, I reached for one of the daggers strapped to my thigh and threw it. I aimed at his heart. He ported, of course, and my dagger imbedded itself in the wood frame surrounding the doorway. He ported back less than a second later, this time beside me.
One of his arms snaked around my waist, and the other quickly gripped my wrist before I could draw another blade.
“Why do you always try to kill me?” he asked, his voice a c
aress along my senses. I shivered.
“Because I really don’t like you.” I jerked away from him, taking a deep breath as I put space between the two of us. The smell of rain assailed my nostrils, a scent I’d come to familiarize with him. God, wasn’t that just great.
“I’m not your enemy.”
“Yes, you are, Inarus. What are you even doing here?” I put a hand up, halting him before he came any closer. Whenever he touched me, my mind went a little foggy and I had to remind myself more than I liked to that he wasn’t one of the good guys. Not by a long shot.
He sighed, running his hand through the thick, black tendrils of his hair; it had grown out more since the last time I’d seen him. “Do we really need to get into it right now?”
Yes, of course we did. Sometimes he was just so dense. He’d betrayed me, used me like some pawn in his game. The audacity of him was astounding. I could feel the rush of heat as my ability bubbled beneath my skin. It itched just below the surface, tempting me to let it out to play. It was tempting, but with the dozens of piles of hay in the barn, I’d end up lighting the place up like a Christmas tree with just one stray spark. I sighed in resignation. No burning Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. At least not today.
“Look, I didn’t come to fight. I came to warn you.”
“I’m sure. I thought you had some information for me earlier. Thank you for sticking around and filling me in, instead of making me wait for an hour for you to show and then leaving me hanging.”
He stepped forward and then caught himself. A small frown marred his near perfect features, and I watched as he chose his next words carefully.
“You weren’t alone.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You never said that I had to be.”
He paced back and forth, clearly agitated. “Look, can we just not argue anymore?”
I threw my hands up. “Fine, whatever. Why are you here?”
He frowned at me. Yeah, I was still being a bitch, but I didn’t really care. I was on a job. This wasn’t an ideal time for idle chit-chat, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I even wanted to hear what he had to say.
blood and magic 02 - kissed by fire Page 5
