by C. T. Adams
She repeated the words, ending on a flat tone. Her smile put happiness so plain on her face Adam didn’t even need to scent the air to find the citrus.
Will moved his head toward Lucas. “What happened? Did you ask her about the van?”
Lucas laughed. “Hardly! All that said was ‘hello.’ Mayan doesn’t have a single word of greeting like English. I said something close to ‘What do you say?’ Remember that I’m speaking barely remembered Yucatec and she’s speaking some modern version of a different dialect. You’ll have to be patient. This is going to take awhile.”
Vivian, now back in human form and appearing to wear a T-shirt and shorts said, “Would it be easier to ask her yes or no questions then?”
Again Lucas chuckled. “It would if Mayan had a concept of ‘yes.’ There is no such word. Most likely, she’d just repeat the same question back to me. I wouldn’t know if she was answering or just clarifying the question. No, it’ll probably be easier to find a translator once we establish a few basic things. But that will take time, too. The only person I know… or actually, knew who spoke Mayan recently… died.”
For a moment Lucas looked profoundly sad, but his scent held an incredible variety of emotions, from joy to anger, sorrow, fear, and all points between. After a second, he shook it off and returned to the situation at hand. He looked at the girl again and then pointed a finger at his own chest. “Lucas een k’aa-abba.” Then he turned the finger so it pointed at her. “Beesh aa k’aa-abba?”
Again she sighed, and a wave of profound relief rose into the air from her pores that highlighted, rather than dulled, her natural scent of salt water and fertile silt. Her words were sprinkled with sharp, abrupt sounds. Adam was glad Lucas seemed to be able to follow it as she spoke slowly and clearly, gesturing often and pointing her own finger at her chest. She followed the words with a smile after putting her hands almost daintily back to her lap. “Aahutziri een k’aa-abba… oosh Ziri. Haach kee-eemak een wo-ol een k’aaholteekach, Lucas.”
“Bie shan taen.” He turned his face and said to the three of them, “Her name is probably spelled A-h-t-z-y-r-y, if I remember the translations right. It’s pronounced like she said it, Aahutziri. But we can call her Ziri. She’s happy to meet us… well, me at least. Okay, what would probably be easiest is to find out where her home is. That will tell us at least where the people in the van likely came from.”
“Too-oosh aa k’-aah, Ziri?”
Adam watched as she slowly responded for what seemed a very long time, while Lucas nodded. Mayan must be a pain to learn, and he wondered how Lucas had come upon the language, and when—to have learned an ancient version.
Lucas nodded and was about to tell them what she said when she laughed lightly and said one more thing that made Lucas laugh as well.
He was smiling when he turned to them. “Ziri lives in a small fishing village near Teenek in Veracruz. That’s on the east coast of South America, below Brazil.”
Will nodded. “Okay, okay. Yeah, I drove through Veracruz once, during an assignment. But most of the people I met spoke Spanish. Doesn’t Ziri?”
Lucas asked in both Spanish and Mayan. She gave an apologetic look, held up her thumb and first finger very close together and said, “Poquito.” That was one word Adam knew. He had to say only a little pretty often on Franklin Street.
“What made you laugh?” Vivian asked.
“She said I talked like her mother’s father. Her grandfather. He probably still speaks an older version of Mayan.”
A sudden wave of fatigue made Adam lean against a nearby tree, only to have more of those blasted spines dig into his skin. He was starting to really dislike mesquites. He flinched forward with a muttered swear and Lucas noticed. “Okay, Adam’s wearing out. Let’s move this back toward the cars. Cam’s probably wondering what’s happening to us and we all need to get some water—especially Ziri. No telling how long she’s been out here. The area’s remote enough that the van could have camped here a week before the men died.”
“If Cara didn’t use all the water to bathe in.” Will’s frustrated mutter made Adam wonder again what had happened earlier, but Lucas just shrugged.
“If she did, she did. We’ll have to wait to get back to town in that case. I’d rather she was clean of scent when we arrived. I had a hard enough time holding both of you back from following.” He nodded toward Vivian. “I appreciated your help, by the way. If you hadn’t turned human and grabbed Will’s leg before he made it into the air, Cara might not have gotten back to the truck safely.”
Vivian glanced at a trio of deep scratches in her arm. Adam hadn’t noticed them until she did. She cringed lightly. “Poor thing. I don’t envy her. I met one other woman like her, when I visited the pack in Alaska, so luckily, I recognized the scent. Yeah, that sort of thing might be fun for a month or two, but I just couldn’t let Agent Kerchee follow her—not like that.”
Hearing words like scent and follow caused flashes of memory to flood Adam’s brain and he froze in place, remembering… the feeling of Cara’s body on his, the exquisitely erotic pleasure as her hands slid through his fur… stroking with magic and skin. The phantom sensation of her teeth biting his neck made him reach up to his throat. Yes, there really was a crescent of dimples marking his skin. He recalled the intoxicating taste of her sweat, and the scent of… something—filling his nose, powerful enough to turn his mind to jelly and make him want to… to—
He shuddered at the thought of what he had wanted to do. There had been a moment when his mind shut off and he didn’t care whether she was willing, or her form. Was it more than just a depraved fantasy? Could he actually have wanted to… mate her… with or without her permission? Had some sort of animalistic hunger he didn’t know he was capable of forced Lucas to magically hold both he and Will so they wouldn’t chase her down like a pack of neighborhood dogs? No wonder the man looked exhausted!
“Good God!” The revulsion of the thought was enough to raise bile into his throat.
“Finally remembering it, huh?” Will’s voice was coupled with a firm hand on his shoulder as he swallowed back the bitter taste. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, Adam. Cara did what she did intentionally to save your life. Lucas said you were fading fast, and it was all she could think of to bring you back. She told me about her… condition once. Going into heat like that runs in her family. Sam made her some sort of medicine that keeps it under control, so it’s not normally an issue.”
“So we really were going to—” He couldn’t even finish the thought.
Will nodded. “Hunt her down like a pair of hormone-crazed rapists?” He sighed, clearly just as embarrassed and disgusted by the revelation. “Yeah, probably. Hell, think how I feel. I’ve known her family for three generations. I was in the living room with her dad when she was born. Thank heavens Lucas is mated. No way would your pack mate Vivian have been able to hold us all back. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for her, being the alpha, on the full moon. Maybe it helps that they’re all family, or that she’s the only alpha here so she can hold them off. But after the integration… jeez. You might want to consider only bringing down mated pairs if you’ve got them.”
Adam shook his head in frustration, borne of shame and worry. “Yeah, that’s definitely a consideration. But I’m more worried about the rest of today. If it were me, I’d be treating both of us like we had rabies. I’ll consider myself damned lucky if she doesn’t shoot me on sight.”
Chapter 10
“AFTERNOON! I WAS starting to wonder if you were going to make it back before I went home, Sheriff. If you hurry, you can probably still make it into the meeting.”
The tinny words from behind the speaker set into the bulletproof glass in the entry area were accompanied by Maggie’s bright smile. Cara put her hand on the doorknob and waited until she heard the buzz that released the lock. She had no doubt her confused look appeared a little snarly around the edges. “Meeting? Did I miss a memo?”
Maggi
e waited until she opened the door and closed it firmly behind her before answering in her more natural alto in a voice that sounded pleased in a motherly sort of way. “Nope. Just serendipity that paths crossed, so Rick grabbed them for a general chat. There haven’t been many meetings since Carl left, after all.”
Cara hung her head and let out a small growl. She shouldn’t have expected any different, but she was getting damned sick and tired of Rick just up and doing shit like this. And she was even more tired of people like Maggie making snide comments, inferring she would never live up to Carl, even though the older woman probably didn’t realize that’s what it sounded like.
“Oh, and Yolanda’s still back there, too. She said she had filing to catch up on, but I think she’s been waiting to brief you. Your phone’s been going nuts all day.”
Yikes! That’s right! How many appointments had she missed this afternoon to go into the desert and search? She couldn’t even remember what she’d had on her calendar. But that could wait. Right now she needed to attend the meeting and bring everyone up to date on her search. She forced a smile and hoped it seemed natural. “Could you buzz her and see if she can hang around for a few more minutes? I really need to brief Rick and might as well say hi to everyone else.”
It appeared to have worked from the sunny reply. “Sure thing, Sheriff.”
Cara glanced at the dispatcher’s desk as she started to walk between the short row of desks where half of her deputies did their paperwork. A stack of large, glossy papers was strewn across it, nearly covering the multi-buttoned radio unit. “Are those the new posters for the lobby? About time they got here.”
Maggie followed her gaze and shook her head in shared frustration. “Yep. People laugh when they read the posters out there. Expired dates for upcoming programs, addresses changed with magic marker on existing ones—do you know Bob from juvie mentioned today that the one for the abuse shelter still has the old area code on the phone number? I hadn’t even noticed that one. I mean, it’s been what—two years since they split the county and gave us the new code? I figured as soon as Dave gets here to take over for me, I’d grab the stapler and just get ’er done. Otherwise, it’s going to be another week before I can stay late, and they make us look more than a little stupid.”
“Well, if it helps any, I feel more than a little stupid today.” She said the words seriously, but Maggie laughed.
“Hell—I feel stupid most days. Consider yourself lucky if you only feel it today.” She winked and picked up the office phone. Her finger hovered over the button for Yolanda’s desk. “Now, y’all better get into the meeting before they all slip out the back door and hit the road.”
Walking down the short hallway to the squad room didn’t give her nearly enough time to process everything that had happened today. But she absolutely had to get her mind back on work for the few minutes she had before she was thrown back into the world of magic and danger, where she had to try to figure out why Sazi birds—wearing gloves—would try to kidnap a young Mayan girl and kill three men.
She didn’t even dare think about Adam and the whole integration issue she still had to deal with tonight. She couldn’t decide who’d been more embarrassed when they’d shown back up at the crime scene—where she was locked in the truck, wearing earplugs to protect her hearing in case she had to fire the cocked sidearm pointing out the window crack at them. Apparently, Lucas had brought them all back to their senses, but neither Adam nor Will would meet her eyes, even after the elder wolf had convinced her they were all sane and calm.
The tea had worked. None of the men showed any hint of arousal when she stepped out of the truck cab. No, the general, unspoken reaction was to ignore what had happened, along with scents of humiliation all around. She was actually grateful for the careful avoidance of the issue from the men, but then along came Vivian.
She’d treated Cara with the worst sort of condescending pity, shaking her head and tsking, while patting her head like a toddler who hadn’t made it to the bathroom in time. Then she started murmuring things like. “It wasn’t your fault,” and “Oh, you poor thing.” After the emotional roller coaster she’d been on, it had been all she could do not to reach forward and snatch out a few handfuls of honey blonde hair.
Rick’s professional baritone cut into her thoughts from inside the squad room. “There’s an AMBER Alert from Oklahoma City, which came across the wire about an hour ago. One Clarissa Evans, age twelve—blonde, blue eyes, last seen in jeans and a striped red top. Suspect vehicle is a black Chevy Cavalier, about twenty years old, last seen headed south. The information is in your packets. Maybe some of you could stop by places on the way home to give a heads-up and check the parking lots at restaurants. You know the drill.”
He paused, noticed Cara standing in the doorway, and tipped his chin in acknowledgment before continuing. “Dave, you’re on prisoner detail tonight. Have the trustees pick up the trash in the exercise yard before it gets too dark and if there’s time before lockdown, let’s see about getting the holding tank washed down. That DWI we picked up at lunch couldn’t hold his liquor.” He ignored the muttered swearing, but elaborated a little. “Sorry, but the shop wants to take a look at that electrical problem you’ve been having with your siren switch before you take it out, and Kevin called in sick again. He just can’t shake that flu.” He turned his head and stepped back a pace, then picked up his coffee mug before sitting down in a chair against the wall. “Glad you stopped by, Sheriff. Anything to report?”
Cara walked into the room, trying to appear more calm than she felt. Stopped by—as though she’d been strolling the streets, chatting with people about nothing, like Carl had done every afternoon for the last five years, instead of fighting for her life. She looked out over the small squad of men and women, some in uniform but most in street clothes. Two rows of four, seven men and one woman, with a wide variety of scents and emotions. The third row of tables hadn’t been used since she’d been with the department. She tried to remember the last time all of them had been in the same place at the same time, but couldn’t.
Maybe Maggie was right. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for this job.
She used to sit out there with them, but now spent most of her time behind a desk, shuffling papers while David drove her patrol. She didn’t shuffle well. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d enjoyed searching the crime scene today. A quick scent of anger’s jalapeño peppers and the burnt metal of frustration rose from Billy when she looked his way. It said he hadn’t forgotten her stinging words, when she sent him back to the office after questioning her ability to search for clues at the scene—not whether she should take the time, but whether she was capable. She’d threatened to write him up for insubordination, which would be his third strike this year. The first two had been from Carl for similar comments to Maggie, who outranked him by a grade, and a third would probably ruin any chance he might have to hire on with a metro force. She should formally reprimand him, put him on report. But there was no way she was going to doom the county to his presence forever. If he couldn’t hire on elsewhere, and she couldn’t find anyone to fill the slot… no, there had to be another choice.
Maybe I need to look into sending him over to Austin for counseling. She was pretty sure the department still had a cooperative agreement for HR stuff. It wasn’t something Carl would do, but if Billy just weren’t so damned prejudiced, he’d make a good cop. It’d be proactive and would be another nail in the asshole’s coffin if he didn’t straighten up. Then she wouldn’t feel bad at all about pulling the trigger—figuratively speaking.
Rick coughed loud enough to get her attention and raised one brow at her. Oops. Apparently, she’d been lost in thought a little too long. She shrugged and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Was just trying to figure out where to start.” Now she had to be careful with her words. Lucas promised to remove the blood evidence at the scene, and she had no doubt he was capable of it. But there were footprints of the girl, and eventually
Ziri needed to make her way back to her village. Lucas promised to question her quickly and then get her back into the human evidence chain if it was required. He seemed to be well versed in Texas law, which was a relief. She didn’t want to have to argue about her duties to her job.
Cara cleared her throat and scanned the faces patiently watching her. “I’m sure Rick has briefed you on the incident from earlier today.” As usual, Stephanie was busily reading her packet while chewing on the bottom of a pen, but still glanced up and nodded with the others.
“The dogs provided by Ranger Kerchee managed to track down a lead. We found footprints a few hundred yards from the crime scene, heading toward the bluff, but couldn’t find anyone hiding in the trees or crevices. One set of prints was about a size four, and aren’t very deep, so we’re probably looking for at least one child or small adult. We’ll need someone out there tomorrow to make casts of the prints. Rick, I’ll let you pick who. I’ve got photos already… they’re in processing. Keep an eye out tonight for unaccompanied kids or unfamiliar families at stores or walking on back roads. Since there’s no way to tell whether the person who left the scene was a witness or involved in the deaths, treat unknown persons as armed and dangerous.”
She desperately longed to tell the people she worked with what they were really up against. But while one or two might be able to handle the knowledge that Sazi existed, most of them would probably lose it—and wind up shooting every animal, and half the humans, in the county that came within a yard of them. No, it was best just to keep them alert.
Rick cleared his throat and pushed his hat further back on his head, revealing a stubborn cowlick of auburn hair. He was about the only person in the department who actually wore his hat as part of his uniform. Everyone had one, but most only put them on for official occasions—or when it was raining. He told her once he started wearing it during his first assignment in another state when the police chief told him to “shave off that damned hair or cover it up.”
