by Vonna Harper
Of course it might not be Garrin. Just because they hadn’t seen anyone else didn’t mean there weren’t other hikers around. Whoever was responsible for firing would, of course, be shocked if he saw a naked and formidable-looking man charging him. If that person decided to shoot first and ask questions later—
Abandoning her plan not to push herself to the limit, she started running full out. Before long, however, her right calf threatened to cramp and her lungs started screaming for relief. Fighting panic, she slowed a little. Much as she wanted to put her hands over her ears so she wouldn’t hear another shot, she didn’t. It was like when her father had died. No matter how much she’d hated what she’d had to do, she had no choice.
Garrin was an academic, a little more ambitious than she felt comfortable with, but hardly a physical or violent man. She couldn’t comprehend him firing at anything unless he believed his life was at risk, but he might if a cougar got too close.
“It isn’t a true cougar,” she said aloud as if Garrin could hear. Then because she didn’t have the wind for more, she switched to an internal monologue. If only she could have told Garrin about the Tocho.
Like he would have believed her.
Fortunately, there was a break in the canyon walls ahead of her, which meant she didn’t have to try to climb them. As she passed through the narrow opening, the steep sides rose up to engulf and diminish her. How incredibly naïve and arrogant she’d been to believe she had any right to force this incredible land to give up its secrets. No wonder those secrets had gone undiscovered for so long; the land protected them well.
She felt relieved once she was beyond the walls, but then the land flattened into a broad valley, and she realized how vulnerable she was. Vulnerable? As far as she knew, no one had any reason to harm her. Just the same, she stopped so she could scan her surroundings. She could see much farther than she’d been able to before, but the bright sunlight created heat waves that distorted distances. Between that and the monochromatic light brown ground, it was nearly impossible to make out details. What she wouldn’t give for a predator’s keen eyesight.
Why hadn’t she called out to Hok’ee? If he knew where she was, maybe he’d join her and tell her what he’d found. But there was still the matter of who was carrying that rifle.
Mentally shaking her head at the turns her life had taken, she started walking again. She couldn’t see Hok’ee’s footprints, of course, and could only hope her interpretation of the direction the sounds had come from was correct. At least there hadn’t been a repeat of the shots.
If something happened to him—no, she wasn’t going to go there! This wasn’t her father all over again, damn it! However, despite her vow to keep things simple and in the moment, she’d be a fool not to face possibilities. Hok’ee lived in a world beyond her comprehension. The rules were different there, the concept of kill or be killed more than a mental exercise. For all she knew, he had no memory of laws and rules, and knew little of society’s conventions. Feeling no guilt, he stole to supply himself with the few things he needed.
Most telling, at times Cougar took over. And civilized human beings feared predators.
That’s what Hok’ee had feared had happened, wasn’t it? He’d left her because he was afraid someone had shot one of his kind. At the thought, she swore she could feel Hok’ee’s tension. He needed to know, and yet that was the last thing he wanted to do.
This is his world, his life, she told herself as she started jogging. Unlike yours with your petty concerns about gas prices and burned dinners, he lives with the knowledge that every day brings risks to his life. The possibility of death.
She didn’t need that. Didn’t want it.
18
Anaba.
Disbelief rippled through Hok’ee. It took everything he had not to throw up his hands and blot out the sight of his closest friend. He’d spin around and go back where he’d come from. He’d fuck the woman who’d complicated his existence, and let Tochona claim Anaba.
But because Anaba would never abandon him, he couldn’t do any less.
His muscles popped and expanded. He sensed the change to his bones and felt the increased blood flow throughout his veins. Earlier he’d fought Cougar’s emergence because he hadn’t wanted to terrify Kai. Now he vowed to remain human, at least until he’d discovered whether Anaba was dead or alive. Then he’d do what he had to. Become a killer.
In cougar form, Anaba lay stretched out on the dusty earth. The lean predator looked as if he’d been dropped while running. One moment he’d been filled with strength and energy. The next, someone had destroyed him.
Caring nothing about his nudity, Hok’ee took one leaden step after another. His keening senses constantly tested his surroundings. Anaba’s killer had been here; he could smell the faint yet harsh scent. But he’d left.
Knowing that the wielder of that deadly rifle had left Anaba to bleed to death sent Cougar-fury charging through him. He understood and embraced killing as long as it had a purpose, but this made no sense.
Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Hok’ee sank to his knees and placed his hand on Anaba’s furred chest. It didn’t move.
“My friend,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me, please.”
Although he waited, not breathing, for the better part of a minute, his hand remained motionless. Anaba’s body was still warm, his jaws parted to reveal teeth perfect for tearing flesh. His claws still contained deadly purpose.
Scooting back a bit, Hok’ee let his hand slide off the inert chest. Picking up a foreleg, he rested it on his thighs. A claw raked his skin but only momentarily pulled him out of disbelief. Tears burned his eyes. Loneliness dug at his heart. Along with that came a growing need to be doing something.
Not just something, he acknowledged as he stroked the great but useless paw. Anaba’s death would be avenged, by him.
Eyes closed, he took himself far from where he was. In his mind he became a breeze moving from one place to another in search of a murderer. He drifted over the treetops, swooped down to examine every possible hiding place. Time didn’t matter. Eventually he’d find his enemy and right a terrible wrong.
Cougar would kill, Cougar with his angry strength.
“Hok’ee?”
The voice came from a distance. Although he knew Kai was calling out to him, he put off having to acknowledge her. Instead, he found a reason to continue watching Cougar’s image stalk the puny man who’d believed he had a right to end a life. In his mind, he was careful to make sure the man couldn’t see him. At the same time, he allowed his essence to spread out until it touched the man. Seeing the look of alarm in those ugly eyes gave him a reason to smile briefly.
“Hok’ee.”
Kai, much closer now. Opening his eyes, he reluctantly acknowledged her presence. She stood no more than a dozen feet away. If it had been anyone else, he would have already sprung to his feet.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Her words stroked his heart. Without a word from him, she’d known what he was going through, at least part of it. He wanted to say something, but what? If he wasn’t careful, she’d know how wounded he was, and he’d never allowed that to happen, not even when he’d learned that a woman he’d thought he loved had put an end to his unborn child.
The small blip of memory and accompanying heartbreak distracted him, but then Kai came closer and he let go of the past. He couldn’t bring himself to release Anaba’s paw.
“Is he—dead?”
“Yes.”
Wrapping her arms around her middle, she closed her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed. In contrast, her lips were bloodless. When she opened her eyes, he saw raw agony that perhaps exceeded what he felt. “He is—he was a Tocho, wasn’t he?” she asked in a barely audible whisper.
“Yes. What’s wrong? The way you look—”
“Nothing,” she said and clamped her hand over her mouth. “It’s just—I was so afraid of what I’d find
. To know it’s as bad as I feared…What do you want to do? Can…can I help with the burying?”
The idea of placing Anaba beneath the earth appalled him, but neither did he want the carrions to pick over his friend’s body. No Tocho had died since he’d come to live here, so he didn’t know how deaths among his pride were handled. He could seek out another shape-shifter, only not now. Not until he’d done what he needed to.
“Hok’ee? Is there anything I can—”
“No,” he said and stood up. His knees ached from pressing against pebbles, and he was aware of his nudity. His awareness of Kai grew with every breath he took. If he wasn’t careful, she’d distract him from his deadly task. “You don’t belong here.”
“Then where do I belong?” she shot back. “I’m sorry. This isn’t about me, is it?”
Did she want him to answer, or was she trying to convince herself of something?
“You’re sure we’re safe?” she asked after a moment. “The killer isn’t around?”
She knew enough about Cougar that she trusted the predator’s senses. Maybe she also understood how close Cougar was to taking over.
“He’s gone,” he told her. “Two bullets, and a life ended.”
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I know losing someone you love is so incredibly hard.”
“Yes, it is.”
Eyes bright with unshed tears, she nodded. Then she held out her hand, and he took it without knowing he was going to.
He had an erection. Despite that, he felt nothing. He might have had sex with Kai last night, but it was a distant and vague memory because suddenly the only thing that mattered was Cougar’s insistent voice inside him. Vengeance, Cougar kept saying. Justice.
“You’re changing again,” Kai said softly. “Your hand, look at it.”
Although he didn’t need to, he glanced at what was turning from fingers into claws. His throat tightened. Much longer, and he’d be incapable of speech.
“I know what’s happening,” she said. “At least I believe I do. You, or should I say Cougar, is determined to find whoever was responsible.”
“I have to.”
“Do you?” Her grip tightened. “Hok’ee, you’re talking about facing someone with a deadly weapon. Look what happened to your friend. How far away was the killer when he fired? You might not have the chance to get close enough for these”—she indicated his claw/hand—“to do what they’re designed for.”
The changing had stopped, leaving him someplace between animal and human, still capable of understanding her but limited in his ability to respond.
“I can’t let you do it,” she went on. “I just can’t. No more needless deaths, damn it. No more!”
He might have found a way to push her to explain herself if he hadn’t sensed a change in Anaba’s body. The younger cougar hadn’t moved, at least not in ways he was familiar with. Instead, Anaba’s coloration became less distinct, as if a fog had blunted the details.
Kai must have noticed it, too, because she released his hand and stepped back. He gave a half thought to forcing her to his side again. Not only was Anaba becoming colorless, the body was losing definition. Already the tail and limbs were disappearing.
“What—” Kai started. “Oh, my God.”
With an effort that left him weak, Hok’ee forced Cougar to return to the quiet place he usually inhabited. He leaned down to touch Anaba’s fur. Whatever his fingers came in contact with had little substance. “He’s leaving.”
“Leaving? Where…”
Kai dropped to her knees next to Anaba. Her features drained of blood, she blew on her hands as if to warm them, then took hold of what remained of Anaba’s head and lifted it. She did so easily. Hok’ee joined her on the ground. Rocking slightly, she rested Anaba’s head on her lap and stroked it while making soft muttering sounds. Maybe she was talking to Anaba, or at least trying to. Because he’d been the object of her rare ability to communicate without words, he didn’t interfere.
Anaba was becoming smoke. Hok’ee understood the loss of a creature’s life force at death, but this was beyond his comprehension. And yet he’d rather see Anaba float off in the wind than rot in the ground. In less than a minute after the change had begun, nothing remained of his closest friend.
“I saw…” Kai whispered at length. “I know where he went.”
“Where?”
“To some ruins built into the side of a canyon. I don’t know where they were; I’ve never seen them.” She sounded in awe. “Only they weren’t ruins. They—Hok’ee, it was new. The stone structure I was standing near was absolutely amazing. The workmanship—”
Ghost House. “Anaba was in it?”
When she didn’t immediately answer, he gave her his full attention. Her eyes were enormous, and her whole body shook. He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted her, yet he was afraid to touch her.
“Not in,” she said at length, and started stroking the ground where Anaba’s body had lain. “Floating over it. He was looking down at what was going on and…”
“What was happening?”
“Life,” she whispered. “Ordinary life. Hok’ee, maybe I’m losing my mind.” She picked up a handful of dirt, only to let it sift to the ground. “But I saw and heard and even smelled things—people were everywhere. Talking, laughing even. Several women were squatting around a fire pit. I wish I’d paid more attention but—I think they were smoking meat, each of them tending to their own meat but enjoying each other’s company.”
“That’s what you smelled?”
She nodded. “Children—I heard their laughter. It was the most delightful sound. Then a couple of men entered the open area in front of the house—it was large enough to hold several families—and the children ran over to them. Everyone was glad to see the men. They were carrying something, a cut-up deer carcass I think, although it might have been an antelope.”
“What did Anaba do?” he asked, though maybe he should have remained silent and let her continue. But once more Cougar was insistent, and Hok’ee needed to learn as much as he could while he was capable of concentrating.
“He—Hok’ee, so much was going on that I couldn’t focus on him—but, yes, he continued to float. And then…”
She didn’t want to go on, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear, but he had no choice. When she started scooping up more dirt, he stopped her by closing his fingers around her wrist. “What happened?”
“The people—it had to be the Anasazi—were no longer where I could see them. I heard their voices, inside the house It had become night. Either that, or the fog made it appear like that.”
“Fog?”
“Thick, black. The same as what I saw around Cougar earlier. It was more like the kind of smoke that comes from burning rubber, terribly dark, only without the smell.”
She still wasn’t looking at him so maybe she wasn’t aware of his battle to remain human.
“The fog, or whatever it was, surrounded Anaba as I saw it do to Cougar. Then it sucked him up and away. It was as if—all right, this is going to sound insane—but you need to know. It was as if after Anaba’s body faded from here, he tried to join the Anasazi. But then that thing caught up with him and prevented him from making the connection.”
Hok’ee’s muscles expanded, straining against the prison of his skin. His lung capacity was increasing, and his eyesight was already Cougar-keen. At first he thought Anaba was calling to him. Then he realized the draw came from the thing, the deep dark. “What is it?” he asked, rushing the words before his throat closed down.
She started rocking again. Her wrist felt fragile in his grip. Afraid he might hurt her, he let her go. The moment he did, he wanted her back, not under his control but so he’d have something to cling to, a way to battle Cougar.
“You expect me to know…”
“If not you, who?”
“Give me time. Let me concentrate.” Her voice trailed off. Then: “Chindi.”
Kai waited f
or Hok’ee to say something. When he didn’t, she struggled to pull herself free of whatever was swirling through her mind, and blinked him into focus. He was changing, half human, half Cougar, beautiful and fierce and terrifying all at the same time. Even as his features morphed into those of a killer, she ached to join him. They’d roam this remarkable land together, hunt with a single purpose, kill as one.
And when they fucked, it would be with rough abandon.
Close to laughing over the insane notion, she stood and backed away. So little of the man remained that she barely remembered what he looked like, and although some of Hok’ee’s heart still beat inside Cougar, she’d be a fool not to acknowledge the danger.
Damn it, did he have to change right now? Why couldn’t he have waited until she’d told him what she’d just learned?
“Hok’ee, I think I understand why you became Cougar after the night the man you used to be died on a motorcycle,” she said. Hopefully, he could hear and comprehend what she was saying. Hopefully, what she was about to say made sense to her as well.
“Chindi were and maybe still are vital to traditional Navajo beliefs. The tribe believed, absolutely, that an evil force was released at death. That force or ghost had—has great power. It can kill, but that isn’t all. I wish you already knew this!” she snapped, angry at him. “You would if you’d accepted your heritage.”
Nothing of Hok’ee remained in the large, intimidating beast standing a few feet from her. Yes, she’d faced Cougar before, but that didn’t blunt his impact. If anything, he was even more awesome now that she understood how he’d come into existence.
Fighting the need to back away farther, she returned Cougar’s intense gaze. His eyes were ancient and wise. Maybe that meant Cougar understood more that Hok’ee did.
“Can you hear me? Do my words make any sense to you? I hope so, because I have to try to get through to you. Chindi? Does the word mean anything to you?”
Except for his slowly lashing tail, Cougar was motionless. His beautiful and deadly eyes threatened to suck her into their depths.
