by J. D. Tyler
“I don’t believe that’s a coincidence, either,” Nick agreed. “He’s leaving them on your doorstep, so to speak.”
“The sick fuck.” Micah turned to Jesse. “Is anyone watching the kid who survived?”
The sheriff nodded. “I’ve got a deputy on his hospital door. The doctor will give us the okay to interview him once he’s stable and awake.”
“I sent Zan ahead to sneak in and speed along his healing. And he needs one of my Pack men to guard him,” Nick insisted. “No offense, Jesse, but your deputies are human. They’re not prepared to fight a crazed shifter who has God knows what abnormalities making him even more dangerous than he should be.”
The man sighed, looking annoyed. But he relented. “Shit. Fine. I’ll let my man know to expect a replacement from one of your team.”
“Thanks. I think that’s the safest thing.” Nick paused. “My gut says our insane shifter won’t come after the kid, that he’s already moved on, but we can’t be too careful.”
Micah said, “We need to find out what he remembers of the shifter, see if we can get a description. Then have Kalen wipe his memory and replace it with a bear attack or something.”
The others agreed. If humans at large were to learn about the paranormal world— Well, that didn’t bear thinking about. The Pack had had some near-misses in recent months where the public was concerned.
“I’ll stand watch on the kid’s door,” John volunteered.
“Good.” Nick approved. “In the meantime, Micah and I will go over the list of all the shifters rescued from the facility where he and Aric were found. Hopefully we’ll get a lead.”
“Were all of those victims taken to Sanctuary?” Jax asked him.
“Initially, yes. Some have been released, and some are still being treated. We have records on all of them to keep track, even the ones who’ve left us to return to their families and such. They’ll be monitored for stability for some years to come.”
Micah frowned. “Well, apparently someone has slipped the leash, so to speak.”
“It seems so. Let’s go see if we can have any luck with that list.” Nick turned to Jesse. “Unless you need us here any longer?”
“Nope. In fact, if your whole bunch packed your bags and moved out of the state, that would suit me just fine.”
Nick smirked. “Take that up with the U.S. Government, my friend.”
“Might as well shit into the wind.”
“Nice image.”
“Truth.”
Jesus. Maybe those two were long-lost brothers and didn’t know it. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the nuts?
The group broke up, and Micah headed back to his bike without looking at the man’s torn body again. He was already craving oblivion, what with the picture of the poor bastard burned into his brain.
Straddling his Harley, he sat for a few minutes and watched as the sheriff and his deputies finished and the medical examiner arrived to remove the body. He wondered whether the ME was fully in the loop, like Jesse, or if the man found himself speculating on just what really went on in the Shoshone when the moon came out.
A few yards away, Nick answered a call on his cell. After a few seconds, he hung up and spoke briefly with the sheriff before bidding him good-bye. Then he walked over to Micah. “Want to go with me and Kalen to question the boy in the hospital?”
Not really. Who wanted to see a defenseless teenager hurt and grieving? But the commander expected his presence, and they might learn something. “Sure.”
“Good. Let’s drop off your motorcycle, and we’ll pick up Kalen. The sheriff will meet us there. When we’re done there, we’ll go back and work on that list.”
Fucking awesome. “All right.”
Micah would rather have fought hordes of goblins and Sluagh than revisit any part of his past, for any reason. But it was determined to bite him in the ass again and again, so he had no choice. In seconds he was following Nick’s SUV to the compound. The drive was short, and Kalen was waiting. Jax offered to get started on the list until Micah and Nick could return, and the commander gave the task over with relief.
Micah still hadn’t been able to have a word with Jax alone, and that ate at him.
Soon they were on their way, Nick driving and Micah riding shotgun. Kalen was sprawled in the backseat, staring out the window and tapping one booted foot to the classic rock on the radio. John, who was riding along to take up guarding the teen, leaned against the opposite door, lost in thought.
Micah turned halfway around in his seat to address Kalen. “How do you wipe someone’s mind?”
Kalen shrugged. “The best way I can explain it is, I reach in with my magic, go searching for what I need. I find the right memory and use my power to erase it just like an eraser does writing on a chalkboard. Then I insert the memory I need them to have.”
“That’s some pretty freaky shit.”
Nick snorted. “That’s not the freakiest shit he can do, by far.”
“I know, and I haven’t even seen half of it.”
Kalen just smiled and shook his head. For a half-Fae and powerful Sorcerer, Micah mused, the man was humble as hell. He could probably destroy most of the world in less than a day with the right motivation, but he didn’t let his abilities go to his head. The Sorcerer could open a serious can of whoop-ass if he needed to, and had, but only when necessary.
At the hospital, Nick parked in the visitor’s lot, and they went inside, riding the elevator to the fifth floor. The appearance of four dangerous-looking guys striding through the hallways caused no little curiosity—and some concern—and twice they were politely asked if they could be “helped” to find their destination.
Outside the teen’s room, John relieved the deputy, who appeared quite grateful to be let go. The big former agent was only slightly less impenetrable than Fort Knox, so Micah figured the kid was in good hands.
They left John to it, and quietly filed into the room. Jesse must’ve gone straight to the hospital, as he was already in the room waiting for them. On the bed was a young man who hadn’t quite grown into his long limbs. He was a good-looking kid, sable hair falling into scared, grief-stricken, red-rimmed blue eyes. All told, he was in much better shape than he should’ve been, thanks to Zan’s covert visit. The young man’s gaze lit on each of them, but he kept looking at the sheriff as if for an explanation.
Jesse began the introductions, his voice more gentle than Micah had ever heard it. “Guys, this is Tristan Cade. Tristan, this is Nick, Kalen, and Micah,” he said, pointing to each of them. “These men are consultants to the sheriff’s department. They—”
“I don’t care what they are as long as they catch that fucking thing that killed my dad,” the kid said, his voice breaking. His eyes filled with tears.
Micah’s heart wrenched with sympathy. Shit.
“Did you see what it was?” Nick asked softly. “Was it a bear?”
Tristan blinked at him and gave a watery laugh that bordered on hysterical. “A bear? Are you being serious right now? Right, because it takes a sheriff plus four men who obviously aren’t law enforcement to come and question me about a goddamn bear.”
Clearly, he wasn’t buying their bullshit.
“No,” Tristan went on, his voice shaking with emotion. “It had w-wings, and it swooped down from the sky. It w-was f-fucking huge. It looked like something out of a bad movie.”
Micah exchanged glances with Nick. Then he asked, “What else can you remember about the creature?”
For a few moments, the kid shivered with remembered horror, clutching the covers. Taking a deep breath, he bravely pushed on. “I swear those wings were fifteen feet or more from tip to tip. When it l-landed on me, I remember looking up, way up, into its ugly face, and thinking it must be seven or eight feet tall.”
“What about its face?” Micah prodded. “What did it look like?”
“Brown feathers. Dirty, muddy brown all over, and dull. Like it wasn’t healthy. Big yellow beak, strong tal
ons. The head was sort of wrong, though.”
“How so?” Kalen asked.
“It was misshapen. Almost as if someone hit it in the head with something and the skull got flattened. The eyes were kind of off, too. Crooked.”
Micah’s brows furrowed. How would someone hide such a deformity when in human form? Unless it was only present in the shift, which would be strange.
Hell, everything about their world was strange.
Nick stepped closer to the bed. “Do you remember noticing anything before the creature attacked? Did it do anything unusual, make any noises?”
Micah knew what he was getting at. The commander wanted to know if the shifter had spoken to the boy or his dad. Made threats. But the kid shook his head.
“No. One minute we were finishing our hot dogs, and the next, this thing was attacking me. My dad tackled it and shoved it off me, and it turned on him instead,” Tristan whispered. A tear rolled down his cheek. His lids drooped.
The kid was exhausted and traumatized. Any second they were going to get kicked out by the doctor or nurses. It was clear Tristan had told them all he could, so Nick nodded to Kalen. As the Sorcerer stepped forward, Nick said, “Take away his recollection only of the attack itself, not the rest.”
Kalen’s eyes widened, not just at the order, but at the commander speaking so openly in front of the kid. “You sure? He’ll know about the creature”—he lowered his voice—“and may figure out things about us. Maybe not right away, but eventually.”
Nick’s gaze was far away—a vision. “It’s important that he knows. Now and to his future. This day will shape the man he’s to become, and he must know that what we are is also his destiny.”
Tristan looked confused, a little frightened, as Kalen laid a palm on top of his head. But one whispered word from the Sorcerer and the young man’s lashes drifted downward. He fell deeply and instantly asleep, allowing Kalen to do his work of removing the sight of his father’s murder from his mind.
As promised, Tristan would remember all else, but the terrible act itself would forever remain blank.
Finished, Kalen withdrew his hand and gazed down at the boy with sadness. “I hope Kai never has to endure what this young man did today. I’d do anything to spare my son from carrying a burden like that.”
It was a sobering thought. Shifters, and even the most powerful of Sorcerers, could be killed. They lived with that reality every single day.
Filing out as quietly as they’d arrived, they left John to guard Tristan. Nick promised to send relief in shifts, to keep the men fresh and alert. According to Jesse, once Tristan was released, he would probably go live with an aunt who was on her way to care for him. Somehow, he’d be fine.
On the drive back to the compound, Micah kept going over in his head what type of shifter they were looking for—a huge, ugly, crazy-ass bird of some kind, capable of ripping people to shreds.
They had a witness, a description, and a list from which to start narrowing down the bastard’s identity.
How hard could that be?
Ten
Tyler stared at his brother, sickness rising in his throat. “No more innocents. You promised.”
“No, I didn’t. You made a request, and I said I’d consider it.”
A request. So casual, like Tyler had asked for a steak and gotten a hamburger instead. When had his brother become this hateful creature? This heartless thing with a black soul, incapable of caring for anyone, except maybe Tyler? He doubted even that, at times.
“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” Tyler said.
The other man chuckled. “Ever the peacemaker, aren’t you? It was the same when we were in that horrible place, taking all the abuse they dished out. Bound to their whims with no choice.”
“I think you just like making others suffer,” Tyler accused. “Bowman and his damn experiments only brought out the ugliness that was already lurking underneath the surface, as they were meant to do. You reveled in being taught to kill, as much as you like to blame him and Chase for what you are.”
“What I am,” Parker mused. Stepping closer to the bed, he laid a hand on Tyler’s leg, the cold clamminess of it seeping through the covers. “What I am? You lie here day after day, and you say nothing about me to anyone. And do you know why? Because you’re loyal to me. What does that make you?”
His stomach turned. “You’re my brother, but I’m nothing like you.”
“Aren’t you?” Parker laughed softly. “Blood is thicker than water, and I saved you. Remember that.”
No, the Alpha Pack had saved Tyler. But he wisely kept his mouth shut.
“I’ll see you later.” With a flutter of his coat, his brother was gone, passing the nurse who was on his way into the room.
Tyler tried not to tremble as Noah started checking his vitals. Tried to appear normal.
He was so afraid. Had no idea where to turn. The threat had been there, unspoken. But a threat all the same.
Brother or not, Parker would kill him for saying a word about his existence.
“Hey, did I hear you say that guy is your brother?” Noah asked, cutting Tyler a curious look as he checked his temperature. “I thought you told me he was a friend of yours.”
He fumbled for a way to cover his blunder. “Yes, but he’s like a brother. We call each other that, you know?”
“Hmm. Yeah, I guess I do.” Noah busied himself, but didn’t remark on Tyler’s visitor again.
Once the nurse was gone, Tyler slumped in his bed and agonized over what to do. If he warned someone, even anonymously, Parker would know it as him. Would the Pack be able to keep me safe?
He wasn’t sure. That troubling thought chased him into an uneasy sleep.
* * *
“Hey, Jacee?”
She looked up from wiping the bar as Jack approached. “Yeah, boss?”
“It’s dead today, so go on home if you want. I’ve got Tracy coming in to cover the evening shift.”
“You sure?”
“Yep, take off before I change my mind.”
She grinned. “Thanks.”
Collecting her purse, she clocked out and left. She’d barely put in seven hours today, but it always felt longer when they weren’t busy. The time tended to drag unless the place was hopping with business.
Though she knew it was probably too early, she was hoping to see Micah’s motorcycle in the driveway when she got home. No such luck, though. She was more than a little bummed, but her mate had a job to do, same as she did. The bills didn’t stop coming just because you’d found your other half.
Climbing out of the car, she walked up to the porch, up the steps, and let herself in the front door. For a moment, she stood in the tiny foyer and daydreamed about the kind of house she and Micah might build. It didn’t have to be huge but definitely bigger. With a circular driveway in front. Maybe it would even lead around to a side garage and a more private entrance. Studying her small living room, she decided something more open and spacious would be nice. They could have friends over, barbecue, laze around, and not be sitting on top of one another.
Which meant a deck out back, too. Maybe a pool. It would be a constant battle to skim the leaves out of the water, but—
Wait. As she scanned the living room, the daydream vanished, and her senses suddenly came to life. Something was off. What, exactly, she couldn’t say. The back of her neck prickled as she inched farther into the house, scenting the air.
She smelled nothing unusual. Just traces of Micah’s scent, of their breakfast. The general, sort-of-musty old scent of the house itself. At first glance no items appeared to be moved or taken. So what was that itch between her shoulder blades? She told herself she was being ridiculous. And yet . . .
Moving slowly, silently, she did a closer inspection. Since she’d recently dusted, there was no way to tell if the pictures, lamps, and such had been moved, so she walked on to the kitchen. They’d left it clean, dishes washed, and the space was undisturbed. For no reason
in particular, she opened the fridge.
Yeah, part of her had half expected to find a dead cat with a note pinned to its carcass or something. She was that creeped out. But nothing. Her arm was in motion, closing the door, when she spotted it.
A plastic container of leftovers wasn’t on the same shelf where she’d left it. She was sure of it. Reaching out, she grabbed the container and set it on the counter. Then she lifted the lid and peered at the chicken-and-rice casserole. It was only from the night before, but it smelled weird. Not like it was too old to eat, but a different sort of weird. Chemical. Her coyote couldn’t identify it, but it made her want to hurl.
Frowning, she replaced the lid but didn’t put the container back in the refrigerator. A quick scan of the other contents revealed nothing else strange, but she decided she’d toss all the perishables if the casserole had in fact been tampered with. Micah would know how to find out.
Leaving the container, she crept through the rest of the silent house. The place felt empty. Couldn’t be too careful, though. Her shifter senses reached out to every part of the house, every corner of every room. Exceptional hearing and smell told her she was alone, and yet someone had been here.
Why couldn’t she pick up a clear scent on the intruder?
Her bedroom was last, and when she entered . . .
Destruction. Complete, utter devastation.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped. Her hand went to her chest, her heart pounding underneath her breastbone.
The sheets and quilt had been ripped from the bed and were piled in ribbons on the floor. Literally sliced with either claws or a knife. The mattress had fared no better, cut in long, ragged gashes. The anger of the person who’d done this was horribly evident in the personal nature of the attack, and it permeated the very air she breathed.
Unable to take her eyes off the scene, she yanked her cell phone from her jeans pocket. Hands shaking so badly she almost dropped the device, she managed to punch in Micah’s number. After three rings, however, it went to voice mail.
