Chapter Fifteen
Oscar stalked through empty campsites. He used to consider himself an expert on shifters. The few cases he worked with Iwalani brought him within circles of beings far outside the realm of a jaguar-shifter. But the initial mystery of Thorn’s adversary brought so many new aspects to light that he needed an outside opinion.
In the past, shifters were guided by clans, guilds of similar creatures with protection, and the future, in mind. Territories were established, land purchased, a hierarchy in place. It avoided competition that might lead to the discovery of shape-shifters by the human world. Yet in all his investigations, he had never once tumbled upon these clandestine organizations. Yes, Thorn had his territory established many decades before his birth. Oscar had no idea by whom. Now, with Elathan Blood’s age extending back more than a century and a half, he needed to know more.
Damp, rotting scents of a swamp reached him on the misting wind, as well as the undeniable odor of wild animals penned, the smell of fear and blood. It stepped up Oscar’s pulse, the animal within on point. He followed the jaguar’s nose to a large log cabin, roof and porch sagging, moss clinging to the frame.
Before he could mount the stairs, the front door opened. Long gray ponytail and bangs spoke of advanced age, but Oscar detected a youthful firmness in her figure. Worn army fatigue pants clung to shapely hips, and her breasts thrust against the cotton of her T-shirt. Her words nearly stopped him cold. “What do you want, shifter?”
“Advice from an expert.” He remained cool and took his license from his suit coat. Internally, although he had been warned that this Sybil Auger was well versed in shifter lore, he felt like a bird that had flown into a window. “I am investigating a case of infanticide.”
“Thorn,” the woman snorted. “Why bother? Nature has already taken its course.”
So the news was out. Oscar strode to the porch. “I cannot. An innocent woman has become implicated in this case. It is my job to exonerate her. Please, I need to understand what I am up against.”
The woman pulled a brilliant blue gemstone from her fatigues. She gazed at Oscar through it for a long moment. “I don’t recognize your kind.”
“Jaguar.” He didn’t like revealing his animal side to a human, but he needed to gain her trust.
She put the jewel back in her pocket. “Exotic.”
“So I’m told.”
“What do you want from me?”
Oscar took a deep breath. “I am not exactly sure.”
“An honest feline. Now I really don’t recognize you.” She pursed her full lips for several heartbeats. The expression sparked a thought without perception deep in his brain. Oscar thought he recognized her from somewhere. As if she sensed this, she turned and opened the door and slid into the gloom. “Come in.”
Inside was a single room stuffed with shadows and noisy animals. Birds, small predators, and on a work bench that ran the length of one wall, a beaver. Oscar noted the bandages and stitches. “What happened to this niñita?”
“A boat propeller struck her. She was found swimming in circles. I’m not sure she’ll survive.”
The animal lay in a log enclosure on a pile of blankets. A large tub of water lay at the other end.
Oscar gazed at her. “This is what you do for a living?”
“Yep.”
“Then you might sympathize with me, as you also engage in the saving of innocent lives.”
The Vet shook her head. “I don’t involve myself with shifter politics.”
“Nor do I. But a woman has been turned against her will. Now, the man who did this is controlling her, using her to do his dirty work.”
“You’re talking about Sally.”
Oscar folded his arms. “You know her.”
“I’ve done what I could for her. It’s up to her to make peace with her curse.”
Curse, Oscar locked on the word, but did not react. “You know what is happening?”
“I’m fairly isolated here.” She smirked at him.
“She’s wanted for the murder of Thorn.”
“Murder.” In the split second before she faced away, Oscar caught emotions in her eyes. Fear and sadness, it was just a fleeting glance. In their cages, the birds and animals squawked and fussed in chorus. He could barely hear her words over the din. “You know that Sally is not responsible.”
“She might well be under the control of a predator, one who wants to assume the position of apex predator. It’s what shifters do. As I said, I don’t involve myself with shifters.”
“This predator you speak of, his name is Elathan Blood.”
While The Vet kept her face away, Oscar’s acute senses caught tension in her frame. “And?”
“My investigation leads me to believe he is more than a century and a half in age.”
The Vet moved to a tall stool near the beaver’s enclosure. A single lamp in the room left her in silhouette. Arms folded, she gazed steadily at him. Oscar got the impression she had come to some decision. “Shapeshifters aren’t guided by any real scientific principles. You and your kind are magical beings. From what I know, the age thing can go either way.”
Oscar’s brain tried to come to terms with what she was saying. “¿Cómo es eso?”
“Shifters get to have it both ways. The human and animal halves balance each other to maintain perfect health. If your human half is sick or injured, you shift in your animal form. Few diseases affect both humans and animals, and the transformation somehow reboots both forms to baseline states. In your case, you can expect to live as long as a disease-free human, plus the lifespan of a well-fed big cat. You could easily live to a hundred fifty years or longer. Kodiak bears are longer lived than jaguars. If he hadn’t been… murdered, Thorn might have made it a hundred seventy-five years or more.”
From his mother’s knee, he learned that shifters could live long lives. But that long? “You said it could go either way.”
“In some of the more esoteric writings on shifters, and these date back centuries, there are cases described of rapid aging in shifters. You’ve heard of dog years?”
Oscar nodded. “The concept that a canine lives seven years for ever human one.”
“A complete misnomer. Canines age to adulthood in one to two years, the equivalent of eighteen to twenty-five years for a person.”
“How does this relate?”
“There is a notable case from what is now Hungary. A young noble, Lord Tobor, offended a witch, who put the mark of the beast upon this boy. Upon the next full moon, a terrifying monster stalked the aristocrat’s lands, killing his surfs and leaving them on the grounds of the keep. To stem this horror, the witch was burned at the stake. Yet on the following full moon, murder and mayhem again haunted the country. Soldiers assailed the creature, but it could not be killed.
“The young Tobor beseeched the advisors of the king. With much research into arcane matters, they determined that the beast could be killed with blessed crossbow bolts made of silver. You must be familiar with how silver affects your kind.”
The hair on the back of Oscar’s neck rose with the telling. “It can keep us from shifting, from healing, and in some cases completely immobilize a shapeshifter.”
“Ah, but it can do more than that. A royal hunting party was assembled, all of them carrying quivers of silver-tipped weapons. Before they could be dispatched, the creature attacked the keep itself, murdering servants and apparently kidnapping the young lord.
“The beast was tracked into the forest. Many shots were fired, but the monster was swift. By nightfall, the hunting party lost the animal. By morning, they could find no trace. After several months, Tobor was considered dead.
“Yet a year later, a dotard was found wandering the wood. The frail old man was brought to the keep, as he was starving and mad. When his cloak was removed, fine fabrics, jewelry and other manner of finery adorned the elderly man. These were identified as the clothes of the young aristocrat. Furthermore, the mark of the beast w
as found upon this man. It was the same as the mark that cursed the young lord, in the same place. The man was so ill, that he quickly passed away. His dying words were: I am Lord Tobor.
“The doctors attending the man noted a scar on the old man’s shoulder. From this, they removed the tip of a crossbow bolt. It was found to be silver.”
Oscar pursed his lips in thought. “Somehow, the silver aged a young man all the way to his death in but a year.”
“Perhaps, because the curse was fresh and the inner beast so young, it could have accelerated the aging process. Again, shifters are creatures of magic. There’s no sense to how your dual metabolism functions. This may also be the root of the trope of silver bullets used to kill wolf shifters, although the original text describes the beast as a bear of twice the usual size and ferocity.”
Oscar thought it over, remembering Thorn telling of the silver fetish he’d thrown around Elathan Blood’s neck to keep him from healing. Another thought pushed this aside. “You seem to know much about shifters for one who isn’t interested in our affairs.”
“Once upon a time, I was fascinated by the idea. But my true passion is nature, not super-nature. Human motives juxtaposed with animal forms—it’s just not my cup of tea.” The Vet faced the beaver enclosure. “I’ll take care of animals plagued by human stupidity. You half-breeds can sort out your own concerns.”
Oscar didn’t take offense at the term. Instead, he asked, “In your experience, which shifter is the most long-lived?”
Her eyes went hard. “Once upon a time, as I said. You’ll need to find your own answers, Detective.”
Chapter Sixteen
Oscar drove through the gathering dark. He mentally sorted all he knew about the case. From what he was told, Thorn was the apex predator around here. Sybil Auger believed that Elathan Blood wanted that position. Felicity and Thorn believed that Blood wanted Thorn’s mysterious and missing mother as his own. The rules of infanticide would bring this woman to the killer. It was twisted, but that was the circle of life.
Thorn was now dead. Even if Blood was in hiding, the news should reach him soon. And what then? The long-lost mother would return, not for her son, but to this rival for her affection.
¡Mierda! Certainly, shifters were possessed by animal identities, but they were not ruled by them. Even if the internal beast took the reins once in a while, human consciousness was still in the driver’s seat.
What if Thorn, Felicity and The Vet were all wrong? What else would motivate Elathan Blood to take Thorn out? Oscar eliminated love as a motive, considering the infanticide angle full of holes. As far as murder went, that left two general possibilities: revenge and money.
Since Thorn would not have been born for decades after the love triangle between his father, mother and Elathan Blood, Oscar could not see a rational foundation for vengeance. What sane person could carry a grudge that long? Even an insane person would have to get on with his life.
That left money as the motivator. Certainly, Sally’s grandfather had come up with the scratch despite his apparent poverty. Elathan Blood had sold him that plot the farmhouse stood on, and while it was cheap, it wasn’t a gift. So who was funding Grandpa? Only the woman remained as a possible financial source. Perhaps Blood wasn’t after the woman’s love, but her gold.
He drove out of the woods and into civilization. With a gun store on every corner, it took only two stops to come up with what he wanted. Oscar was not a fan of guns. He could rely on his inner cat for any form of defense or attack. Yet his profession warranted certain appearances. Instead of traditional weapons of law enforcement, he preferred collectible weapons.
He found what he was looking for. A CO2 pistol was a replica of a Luger P08. Oscar had the real thing at home, as well as a shoulder rig for the gun. While he was satisfied enough with this purchase, the real trick would be coming up with the ammunition.
After sitting in his car for a long time, Googling on his cell phone, an idea occurred to him. Ten minutes later, he arrived at a craft store. In the beading department, he found the perfect thing. Nearly. While the air gun held 4.5mm BBs, he found 4mm silver beads. If these wouldn’t work, he wasn’t sure what his next step would be.
Twenty minutes later, he stood in the woods. He examined a make-shift target of legal paper and a circle drawn with a pen. The weapon worked well enough with its unconventional ammunition. Accuracy was only good for a few yards. Oscar didn’t mind close-up work. Still, he gazed at the BB gun in his fist. He glanced around as he headed toward the Lincoln. He didn’t want to be caught dead holding the silly toy.
He got back in the car, wondering why Sybil Auger had told him the story about silver bolts. Was the woman manipulating him? What would a wildlife vet gain from his success at bringing down Elathan Blood? He could come up with no answers. Except that the news of Thorn’s death rattled her, no matter how well she hid it. Despite her talk of nature taking its course, her reaction told a different tale.
Oscar’s kind had no tradition with silver. His early life had been so far removed from civilization that an infant shifting into a kitten would go unnoticed. A mother would simply shift into feline form to teach the baby. Unlike Thorn and Felicity, there was no need to keep a child under such tight control. He wondered if either ran the threat of shifting to animal form while in day care, or kindergarten. The thought amused him.
Driving back home to prepare his hunt, he realized he had only the sketchiest of theories, the flimsiest structure of a plan. Oscar had to find the murderous Elathan Blood soon. Sally was safe for now, but she was inexperienced as a shifter. It tore at his heart, leaving her alone in the deep woods.
Oscar sighed to himself. He had to admit it. It was more than leaving Sally in the woods. He simply needed to be near her.
***
Against her better judgement, Sally let the bear loose. To her surprise, she reveled in her bear shape. She raced through the hilly terrain at incredible speeds. With a leap, she clambered up a tree to nearly the top. She gazed at a spectacular sunset through ursine eyes.
And the smells! Information flooded her brain through her nose. Nests of squirrels, birds on the wing, beavers in dams, skunks in the brush, she could determine their positions, what they were up to, what they were eating—
Dang, she was hungry.
It was far too late in the season for berries. The salmon run was over. Skittering back down the tree, she let the bear guide her to food.
Again, the bear bounded through the wilderness, hot on a scent. Soon, she came upon a rotting stump. Bees swarmed around her head, buzzing as she approached. To Sally’s surprise, they couldn’t sting through her heavy black coat.
Claws made short work of the tree. Sally opened the hive and dined on sweet honeycombs. Oh, so good! Even the few bees she gobbled up along with the golden nectar just added a tasty bit of protein to her meal.
While that was delicious, her bear had other ideas. She wanted meat. Sally thought she would balk at the idea of hunting and killing a living animal. Instead, she was caught up in the bear’s fervor. The bear moved quickly along a stream. Following the scent of a doe, she stalked a fern-covered bank. Her nose told her the deer was hiding in the trees above.
Running a few steps, Sally leapt. Easily clearing the bank, she raced up the hilly terrain toward the doe. Too late, her nose caught another step. The stag charged her even as she caught wind of him.
Antlers crashed into her shoulder and flank. Ow! With a grunt, the deer lowered his head and rammed. She lost her footing. An instant later, her paws beat wildly, finding only thin air.
Sally crashed back down the bank, rolling over and over. She splashed to a stop in the stream. Oh, that hurt. She rolled to her feet, gingerly shaking off the water. Jeeze! The wounds bled like crazy. What was she going to do?
Even as she sought answers in her bear instincts, the animal retreated from her consciousness. What the H? As it did, her broad paws contracted, sturdy limbs convulsing. With an itchy
tingle, her thick black fur retracted into fair skin. In a moment, a naked Sally lay in the stream bed.
Holy cow it was cold! She fumbled out of the water onto the green bank. Oh, what was this? Examining herself, she found that the wounds were gone. Okay, that was pretty cool. She wouldn’t bleed to death. Instead, it was more likely she would freeze to death.
Awareness of her inner beast returned. Sally’s human brain did its best to tune in. Of course, the answer was simple. Taking a deep breath, she let the bear fill her mind. From there, she easily shifted back into the ursine form. It hurt a little, her limbs thickening, body billowing out, a snout pushing its way out of her face, and the itchy, itchy, itchy growth of the dense coat.
Bones creaked, skin stretched, joints popped, her spine aligned horizontally, her legs crooking, and for her the weirdest part, her hands spread into paws. In a few moments, a bear stood in place of a naked woman on hands and knees. Where the human had shivered with the cold, the bear felt fully comfortable. Somehow, the wounds the animal suffered were gone.
She was getting better at shifting, but she still sucked at being a bear. The thought surprised her. It wasn’t that the bear was stupid or the bear was lame—she was the bear, bad at it or not. The two of them were one.
The concept staggered her mentally. She also staggered physically. Swapping forms the way she had exhausted Sally to the point of nearly falling down with fatigue. Where does a bear sleep? she asked her instinctive half.
Groggily, she wandered the darkening woods. Animal instincts brought her to a fallen tree, the trunk larger than her body. In the triangle of space beneath, leaves had drifted in a deep pile. Sally didn’t consider the spot a decent bed, but her bear body relaxed into it. She felt warm and sheltered. Sleep took her swiftly, her last thoughts of Oscar. She hoped he would come for her soon.
Chapter Seventeen
Oscar parked in the lot outside his building on Southwest 13th Ave. near Salmon. His office stood at ground level, apartment above. The narrow building was sandwiched between church offices and a clinic. He sorted through his keys to allow the men in the shadows to brace him.
The Jaguar's Romance Page 9
