I hurried over. “What’s up? Did Taylor get a trace?”
Lana looked slightly to my left. She heard me, usually in bursts like a radio fading in and out. She couldn’t see me at all.
As usual, she’d picked up enough to figure out the gist of my communication. “I saw this shining through the pine straw. The police missed it somehow.”
Taylor held up a gold chain, the heavier kind that a man might wear. Hanging off of it was a circle of gold. A wedding band.
Taylor said, “It’s inscribed with the victim’s name David, a woman’s name of Amy, and a date.”
I felt a stab of hurt on the behalf of the dead shifter’s family. Of course he would have worn his wedding band on a necklace. Werehogs’ fingers fused together in pairs, giving their hands the appearance of cloven hooves.
Hope surged. “Taylor, can you track anything from that?”
Lana nodded. “She was saying the same thing when you started talking to me.”
Taylor clenched the ring tightly in her fist. She closed her eyes. For a few seconds she had no reaction. Then her face tightened in a rictus of horror.
“Panic. Terror. Pain. He’d been shot and he was trying to get away. Bleeding out. Weakening. His wife’s name on his lips. He tells her he’s sorry and falls.”
“Which direction did he run from?” I asked.
Lana passed on the question. Her eyes still squeezed closed, Taylor pivoted on her sneakered heel. She faced the direction Tattingail had gone. Her eyes popped open. “That way.”
Lana pursed her lips worriedly. “The way that nutjob went? Tell me we don’t have to follow.”
Taylor patted her shoulder. “You know we do.”
I hurried to reassure them. “The Tats went straight to the country club’s property. He’s gone, probably afraid of being caught now that you know he was out here illegally.”
Lana nibbled on her lower lip and nodded. She told Taylor, “Brandilynn says the coast is clear.”
Taylor was already tracking. “Keep an eye out for that idiot, Brandilynn. He’s vindictive enough to bring his high-and-mighty friends out to chase us away.”
I agreed. I kept a few steps ahead of Taylor, listening and looking for any sign of trouble. Since I suspected we would end up at the fence bordering the club’s lands, I followed the trail Tattingail had taken.
Taylor paused at the point where Deputy Charlie had lost the dead man’s scent. She stood still for a few minutes and confirmed the cop’s suspicions. “David stopped and ran all over the place, trying to throw them off his trail. He’d gotten out of their territory. He had to confuse them long enough for him to get to the road. He knew it was bad. He was starting to lose a lot of blood. Shifting from animal to man without conscious thought ... he knows it means he’s about to die.”
She started moving again. Except for slight deviations here and there, she mostly kept to Tattingail’s path. We reached the fence.
Lana rolled her eyes. “That Tattingail. Didn’t know he’d left the grounds, my foot. It couldn’t be more clearly marked. He had to have climbed the darned fence too.”
Taylor moved along the fence a few paces and stopped. I noticed her hand clenched around the ring tight enough that her knuckles whitened. “He came from in there. He was shot three times, about a quarter mile away. God, the pain!”
“Easy,” Lana whispered.
“I hear men yelling. They’re tracking him. They’re going to find him. He thinks he’ll make for the road, get home, get his wife and kids, grab what they can and go.”
She swung around and thrust the chain with the ring at Lana. “Take it. I’m done.”
Lana did so, her expression sad as she tucked the jewelry away in her coat pocket. “Are you all right?”
Taylor rubbed her face with her hands. “You’d think after all these years of doing this, of looking for dead bodies and finding out what happened to them I wouldn’t be affected by it. Damn it. Damn it!”
“You’re a human being. Of course you’re affected by it. But at least you can do something about it. Did you happen to get a name? A sense of who shot that poor man?”
Taylor stared up at the sky, her eyes bright with tears. “No. Just fear and pain. And a desperate hope to see his wife and kids again.”
“That’s all right,” I said, my determination to nail Tattingail stronger than ever. “You’ve confirmed a lot of my suspicions. It may be enough to keep anyone else from disappearing and dying.”
I was pretty sure I knew who was next up on the list. My sister’s husband was being lined up for the kill. Tattingail’s sick hunt had to be stopped.
* * * *
The first thing I did when I came out of the coffin that night was call my sister. I got no answer, forcing me to leave a voicemail.
“Mrs. Warner, this is Bran – uh, Patricia Keith. I need you to call me as soon as possible. We must arrange for me to speak to your husband soon.”
I hated leaving messages. I always stumbled through them.
I weighed my next move. Tristan had decided to take a little trip out to Atlanta to vet staff there and make sure the Georgia general assembly was working on accommodations for his night-only availability. No help there.
Gerald came in. “What’s this I hear about the Tats hunting on county property?” he said by way of greeting.
He’d already spoken to Lana and got her side of the story. I’d avoided telling her and Taylor that at one point, Tattingail’s gun had been trained on them. I clued Gerald in on that part, along with the hope that the would-be commissioner had simply used his scope to spy.
His eyes went wide over my story. “You did the right thing knocking the crap out of him,” Gerald breathed. “Best to have not found out for sure one way or the other.”
“Yeah. Now I can pretend to think the best of the dumb jerk ... which isn’t that good anyway.”
We continued to discuss the matter. Gerald agreed with me that getting Ryan Warner to talk to us, if not the cops, was the best bet at this point. Until Ashley called back, we were left to cool our heels.
“I haven’t seen Dan since I got in,” I said. “No doubt he’s either researching at the library or watching the police to see if they’ve gotten any news.”
“The moment he knows something, he’ll be buzzing in your ear,” Gerald said. He stretched his too-gorgeous body. I felt casual lust. He sure was a hottie, that werepanther. Maybe once I had my bloodthirsty urges under better control and didn’t jump his bones anymore, he’d move on. After years of adoring Patricia, it was time Gerald found a woman to love him as he deserved. He was too good a guy to go through the world alone.
As if to thwart that day when he’d be free to find his one true love, Wendy came into my office. With a bright ‘you can do it!’ smile she announced, “How about a flying lesson? With Tristan out of town, I’ve got all night to work with you.”
I blew a raspberry at her.
It turned out Wendy had been a life coach in her human days. While she didn’t exactly convince me I wanted to make flying happen, she was motivating enough that Gerald joined in with her in cheering me on. Double-teamed, I finally agreed.
We met up at the field where I’d gone down in defeat so many times. Clothed once more in cheap, ready to shred-wear I asked Wendy, “How much is Tristan paying you for this?”
With a broad grin and a wink, she answered, “Not enough if it’s anything like last time.”
How prescient her comment turned out to be. After hours and hours that saw more of me crashing than flying, all the optimism and teasing fled. Gerald looked resigned, Wendy seemed ready to cry, and my arm was broken and useless again. We set the bone – hurray for Gerald being a former EMT – and I chugged bottles of BP9 to hasten the healing. As I swallowed coppery swill, no one spoke.
I readied to call it quits once and for all. I thought I’d proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that flight was not going to be among my skills. For whatever reason, I wasn’t getting it.
That reminded me of Arthur’s visit the night before. What he had said about feeling the exaltation of the ‘deathsong’ had struck a chord at that time. Silly idea. I had to face the fact I needed to buy a car. I tried to find some mote of joy in that. My bank account in Patricia’s name would snag me a BMW. Or did I want a Mercedes like Tristan’s? Oh, a Lexus would be nice too. I could already smell the brand new leather seats. No, it wouldn’t be so bad to drive instead of fly after all. I’d get a car with enough gadgets to erase the disappointment I felt in myself.
With a sense of guilty relief I tossed my empty bottle into the trash bag we’d brought along. One more try and I would tell Gerald and Wendy to throw in the towel. One more attempt that would find me thumping down to the frost-hard ground. After that I could change into my pretty clothes and bop on over to the dealership. I don’t quit on much, but I saw no point in beating a dead horse either. I could not fly. Period.
I stepped out into the middle of the field. I eyeballed the magnolia tree at the edge of the churned ground. I’d gotten close and personal with that thing far too many times. I decided I might as well make my final doomed attempt count, to show Wendy and Gerald that I had given it my best before giving up. I would try one last time to fly around that awful tree.
I thought of the lovely music that came when Patricia’s body gave me up each morning. Why shouldn’t I? I wouldn’t fly any worse from taking Arthur’s advice.
A low tone filled my mind, the sweet memory of the most gorgeous thing I’d ever heard. I thought of how it swelled, like hundreds of distant voices rising together to sing. But not quite the sound of singing ... it was as if some magical instrument had been created that mixed the most beautiful soprano aria with a heart-filled violin strain and tiny bells chiming. No, even better than that. Again, how does one describe the indescribable?
Thinking on that beautiful sound, I lifted from the ground. I concentrated on how it made me feel every time I heard it. There was always the sense of putting my feet on the doorstep of home after a long and arduous journey. The best feeling one could ever imagine, times one hundred.
“Exaltation,” I breathed. I rose high in the air, floating more than flying. I set my sights on the magnolia tree and continued to hear the music in my head. I drifted as if on its trailing notes, almost seeing a path of light as it flew out before me, beckoning me to follow. I sailed straight behind it, losing myself in the bliss of its call. It soared and I soared with it. When it arced around the tree at the end of the field, I followed with barely a tremor.
I was doing it. I was flying. And I didn’t want to stop.
The landscape of flattened field unfurled beneath me. It seemed magical in the euphoric state I’d found, as beautiful as the seashore or a mountain range. I flew and I flew, going higher and higher. I knew freedom. I knew it in the body of a vampire.
I don’t know how long I stayed up there, swooping here and there, dancing with the breezes that ruffled my short hair. It took a little while before I realized I wasn’t alone. Wendy flew a few feet alongside me, grinning from ear to ear.
“You’ve got it, Brandilynn! You’ve really got it! How does it feel?”
“Amazing!” I shouted. “Next to sex, it’s the best thing ever!”
Wendy laughed, a full-throated sound. She zoomed off. I decided to chase after her. We dove and twisted in the air. All the stuff Wendy did, I copied. I wasn’t as smooth as her to be sure, but I wasn’t out of control either.
‘Porting as a ghost might have been the fastest way to travel, but flying was much more fun. I loved it. I had so much fun that I lost all track of time. It wasn’t until Wendy and I zoomed over the cornfield again and we heard yelling that I snapped out of my happy dream. I peered down to see Gerald and Dan waving at me from the Mercury.
I headed down. My landing was rough enough that I felt the reverberations through my legs and spine, but I did not crash. Let me say that again. I did not crash. I landed upright on my feet.
I beamed at the three people before me. Their grins were almost as big as mine.
Congratulations rang out in the dark night. I basked in the praise. I thought maybe I should give Arthur a gift as thanks for getting me on the right path. What does one offer a pyrokinetic? Marshmallows? Chocolate and graham crackers? Arthur deserved s’mores, all right. Hee hee, I was giddy from my success.
Wendy’s phone went off, signaling she had a text. She read it and grimaced. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got to get back to the office and take care of a couple of matters. There are those who can’t think for themselves when the boss is out of town.” She rolled her eyes and received our snickering sympathies.
I couldn’t help but give her a quick hug. “Thank you for your help and patience. I’m grateful.”
She smiled and returned the squeeze. “Not at all. You did wonderful.”
Maybe I made a new friend. Stranger things have happened.
When Wendy flew into the night, I turned to the guys and beamed. “I can do that too.”
They chuckled. It occurred to me that Gerald probably didn’t realize Dan had shown up, so I told him. Gerald waved all around himself to make sure Dan saw him saying hello. My success had hit us all with the goofy stick.
I made myself get serious since I thought Dan wouldn’t show up at my usual site of shame without reason. “What news do you have?”
“Death by gunshot on that werehog. The police are calling it manslaughter by poachers. As far as they’re concerned, illegal hunters were out being stupid. The assumption is the instructor went out on the training center’s grounds, wandered onto county property, and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I repeated everything to Gerald before asking my next question. “Was the bullet made with silver?”
Dan grimaced. “The shell had silver shot mixed into it. It is legal in this state even though para rights groups have gotten the laws changed in 34 other states. Georgia is one of the holdouts.”
Again I reported to Gerald. He shook his head. “Even if he hadn’t bled out, the silver would have eventually killed the poor guy.”
I scowled. Even if I hadn’t suspected Tattingail to be hunting shifters on purpose, I thought the matter should have been treated like a murder. “Are they at least investigating the country club and the people who hunt there?”
Dan sighed. “They went over and asked some questions since the club is nearby. However all the members of the hunting club have alibis, including Cliff Tattingail.” His brow wrinkled. “I found it interesting that a few of them vouched for each others’ whereabouts.”
That bothered me. “You’re thinking the whole hunting group from the club is involved?”
Gerald sucked in a breath. “Man, that’s messed up. Way worse than a fight club.”
Dan said, “The club insists they have not been out hunting for a couple of weeks. They also have rules against it after sundown and there was no evidence that anything happened on their property.”
“Someone was out there with a gun last night,” I reminded him. Had a clandestine hunt been going on when I tried to fly over the country club grounds? Was that why someone had been out, ready to shoot?
Dan’s expression was grim. “Your sister’s husband needs to come clean with what he knows. We’ve got to convince him to go to the police. The other missing shifters are probably dead, and he will be too if he allows himself to be hunted.”
I agreed, but I knew what we were up against. “It won’t be easy to get Ryan to talk since it means he faces a prison sentence for embezzling and fraud. Still, we’ve got to try. I’ve already left a message for Ashley telling her I need to see Ryan.”
I grabbed my purse out of Gerald’s car to see if she had called back yet. “Darn it. I must have left my phone at the office.” I turned to Gerald. “Let’s get back to Para Central and see if Ashley has returned my call. We’ve got to stop her husband from going through what that poor werehog did.”
“You’
re not going to try flying back to the King George?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “All my happy thoughts are gone. I’m nowhere near serene enough to attempt it.”
Chapter 11
I’d left my cell phone smack dab in the middle of my desk, all right. It and my landline were full of frantic messages from my sister begging me to call her back immediately. The first one had been left hours ago.
I called, worry filling my head. Ashley picked up on the first ring. She darned near screamed her ‘hello’.
“Ashley, it’s – it’s Patricia Keith.” I’d nearly said my real name.
She sobbed, “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you!”
“What’s wrong?” Like I didn’t know. I cursed myself for leaving the stupid phone behind.
“Ryan got a call right after dinner. He left without a word – he wouldn’t answer any of my questions. He hasn’t come home, and he’s not at the hospital. He’s not picking up his cell phone either.”
I checked the time, my heart sinking. It was less than an hour until dawn. No way I could charge over to the hunt club like the cavalry. Not in Patricia’s body.
Fearing we would be too late, I choked out, “Do you know who called him?”
“It was Cliff Tattingail. I heard Ryan call him by name. He didn’t realize I was eavesdropping.” Anger crept in to mitigate some of her terror. That was good. Anger was much better.
I thought over our options fast. “All right, champ. I have an idea where he might be. I’m going to check things out and make sure Ryan’s okay.”
Suspicious confusion greeted my statement. “You have to get below ground soon though, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ll send someone out to check on my suspicions. Listen Ashley, you may not hear anything for a while depending on if we have to take action. Don’t do something stupid in the meantime, okay? You hang tight and stay calm for Jesse. If Ryan shows up at work, call—” I glanced at Gerald, who gave me a nod. “—call Gerald. You know, the werepanther?” I gave her his number.
“All right,” Ashley said. Her tone wavered, but she didn’t sound as hysterical as she had when she’d first picked up the phone. “Is Ryan in danger?”
Animal Attraction Page 19
