Raven, Red

by Connie Suttle

  "Fuck," Mac cursed.

  "We tried to pay restitution, because that idiot wouldn't have been anywhere near here if my husband hadn't hired him to kill a bobcat that was taking down calves. Ari's mother refused the money. I don't think she ever recovered from that tragedy. She died four years ago, far too young for a normal shifter's lifespan. Ari still grieves for both of them."

  "That's horrible." Nico sighed, ducking his head.

  "Fuck-ing. Awe-full," Mac agreed.

  "Ari knows how you feel, Nico," Janie reached out to pat his hand. "Losing parents, and then knowing their killer is still out there, unpunished."

  "I won't stop until they're dead," Nico said as Mary Kate bustled into the kitchen to make breakfast.

  "Yours or Ari's?"

  "Mine for sure. Ari's? Who can say?" Nico slid off his barstool. "I'm going to take a quick shower. How long until breakfast, Mary Kate?"

  "Half an hour," she smiled at him.

  "I'll be back in half an hour."

  Mac hopped onto Nico's shoulder and the two of them left the kitchen.

  "When do we ever stop hoping that life will be fair?" Janie asked Mary Kate.

  "Probably when we die," Mary Kate replied.

  "Yeah. You're probably right." Janie stood and stretched before going to the coffeemaker to pour another cup.

  "Look, he's an old man, and he likes to remember his glory days," Denton Franks held out a check to pay for the heifer his father shot. "He really did think it was a deer."

  "Right. Maybe it's time to take the gun or the bullets away, Franks," Val hissed. "I'm not taking that money. He killed one of my prize heifers. I hope the Sheriff remembers how to do his job."

  "You're still pissed because he disobeyed your father's orders all those years ago," Denton accused.

  "Damn right I am. He got a trophy and left the real culprit out there to kill again. Then he refused to return the money. Yes, I'm still pissed."

  "You can't say the mountain lion wasn't responsible for any of those kills; my father eliminated a predator," Denton's voice rose.

  "Yeah. Actually, I can say that. If I were you, I'd keep your old man far away from Jordan land. Should a future incident occur, I'll go straight to the media with this. I don't think you want the animal rights activists breathing down your neck, either."

  "Fuck you, Jordan," Denton shouted.

  "Get off my land, Franks," Val snapped.

  Denton turned on his heel and strode toward his brand-new, outsized truck, which he'd paid extra to have raised farther off the ground.

  Val froze when he heard the soft sound of large paws running on the paved road near the cattle guard on his property.

  "No!" Val turned to shout as the mountain lion raced toward the truck, leaping at it the moment Denton Franks shut the door. The mountain lion thumped against the truck's door like a compact, tawny-furred tornado, hissing and growling as she ripped off the side mirror and tore out the windshield wiper on the driver's side.

  Terrified, Denton put the truck in reverse and backed up, causing the mountain lion to slide off the truck, but not before putting deep scratches in the paint and metal. Denton's back wheels flung out dust and gravel as the mountain lion gave chase. She only stopped when Denton's vehicle jarred its way across the cattle guard and onto the highway outside the entrance.

  "I. Got. This." Mac settled on Val's shoulder for a few seconds. "Go. Back."

  "You sure?" Val asked, not taking his eyes off Ari for a moment. She stood at the edge of the cattle guard, her tail twitching angrily.

  "Yes." Mac flapped off Val's shoulder, flying toward a very angry mountain lion.

  Ari was so angry, she wanted to kill something. Wanted to claw its throat. Wanted it to suffer.

  Wanted Mitchell Franks and his spawn to suffer.

  "Not. Cool." Mac dropped to the ground beside her.

  Turning her head, Ari yowled at Mac, making sure he saw her large, impressive teeth.

  "Don't. Let. Them. Know. You are. Coming," Mac advised. "Sur-prize. Attack. Best. Come. Back. Now."

  Ari yowled at him again, before turning and stalking toward the house, her tail twitching, extreme anger in every movement.

  "Time for. Tie. Chee?" Mac settled for walking beside her rather than flying, his legs stretching into quick, wide hops to keep up with an angry mountain lion. Ari growled low in her throat. If Mac thought he could distract her with sarcasm, he was seriously mistaken. Plus, the fact that he was baiting her irritated Ari further.

  "Hrrrmmmm," Ari growled and kept walking.

  "You. Ig-nor-ing mee?"

  "Hrrrmmmm," she repeated, turning her head away.

  "You. Are. Curr-sing. Mee?"

  "Hrrrmmmm."

  "Call-ing mee. Stoo-pid bird?"

  By this time, they'd reached the spot where Val had stopped to wait for them, roughly a hundred feet from the driveway.

  "May-bee. You are. Just. Bee-ing. Catt-ee."

  Ari chose that moment to snarl in indignation at Mac and Val, before loping away. "You can't blame her," Val shook his head. "I'd have done worse if that had been me all those years ago. And, there wouldn't have been a scrap of evidence left behind for anyone to find."

  "Missed. Op-or-tune-it-ee."

  "I was too young," Val mumbled. "And too stupid. The Grand Master at the time wasn't a strong leader and was afraid of the race being outed. He was challenged fifteen years ago and lost the fight. If that had been a werewolf who died instead of Ari's father," Val shrugged.

  "Be-ware. The one. Who en-joys the. Kill too. Much." Mac croaked and lifted off the ground to fly after Ari.

  "You just described Mitchell Franks perfectly," Val mused as he watched the raven fly toward the house.

  Texas State Senator Darnell Cheatham strolled into his office feeling invigorated. He'd had some ideas come to him while he and his family were away on vacation. Ideas that he intended to put forth in committee for possible legislation.

  "Hello, Senator," his chief of staff, Gerri Dean, greeted him with a smile. "I didn't think you'd be back before tomorrow."

  "I just wanted to drop by and check in—I had a few thoughts while I was on vacation. I think I'd like to put a plan together on my computer before I'm officially back in the morning."

  "I'll see you're not disturbed, then," Gerri said. "How was it? Your trip to Spain."

  "Enlightening," Darnell replied, enthusiasm lighting his features. "I learned a lot while I was there."

  "I wish I could go, sometime," Gerri said. "So many things to see."

  "I have a few historical facts you may want to read about," Darnell said. "I'll be in my office. You don't need to bother letting me know when you're done for the day. I can take care of myself."

  "Of course. Good to have you back, sir."

  "Good to be back."

  Darnell walked away from Gerri's desk with a spring in his step. Gerri hadn't seen him that excited about anything in the six years she'd worked for him.

  "Maybe we all need a vacation in Spain," she mumbled and went back to work.

  "Yes, it was stupid," Ari slumped on the sofa in the sitting room where Janie sat, thumbing through a magazine.

  "You could have hurt yourself, too," Janie quietly pointed out. "Flesh, no matter how fit and muscular, is still no match for metal machinery."

  "I tore off his rearview mirror after he was rude to Val."

  "Val doesn't need you to fight his battles."

  "I know."

  "Your fight isn't with Mitchell's son, either."

  "Yeah." A heavy sigh followed Ari's admission.

  "Having said that," Janie set the magazine aside, "we still have an ongoing feud with Mitchell, who shot one of our prize heifers last night. The nerve of Denton, trying to wave a check at us as if that would make it go away. I don't care how old and senile Mitchell is, Denton needs to take the guns away and put a tighter rein on that old man."

  "Like that will happen in this state," Ari huffed.


  "Well, he wouldn't be the first trophy hunter—or the last—to go down trying to make another kill."

  "Let him come near me," Ari growled.

  "Ari, I'm not sure you should be the one, if it comes down to that. Overkill will invite other hunters in to deal with a rogue."

  "I get that." Ari sounded defeated.

  "Timing is everything," Janie went on. "For now, it's too soon to act on this. That stunt you pulled earlier is fresh in Denton's mind. We'll let this go for a while, unless Denton's father gets away from him again. Mountain lions aren't a protected species here. We don't need somebody hunting one—especially on our property, without our permission."

  "I'm sorry," Ari apologized. "I wasn't thinking past the heat of the moment."

  "I know. It's an understandable reaction to something that could result in deadly consequences—for us."

  Darnell found what he looked for after nearly two hours of searching through his computer—the email from Benny Killebrew, pastor of the Eternal Flame Church in Swindall, Texas. It was dated nearly two years earlier, and the senator had ignored it when it first arrived in his inbox.

  Dear Senator Cheatham, the message began. You have spoken urgently in the past regarding the very topic I write to you about today. Your efforts in the past have fallen upon deaf ears, but now, I have the proof you need to go forward.

  I implore you to watch and act upon the video I am enclosing, which shows real witches casting spells in our great state. They are in the act of turning people into zombies, werewolves and other abominations.

  I know this may be hard to believe, but two of my own church members have been taken by that crowd and converted against their will. They have refused my offer of help to cast out their demons and will not come near the church because of their possession.

  We deserve legislation, not only banning these blasphemous ceremonies, but our government should call upon every righteous soul in our state to eliminate the problem, using whatever means necessary. This includes those who have fallen victim to their spells, and are demon possessed or turn into werewolves or worse at night. Don't let them fool you—they call themselves wiccans, but they are witches, plain and simple, and we know what the Bible has to say about that.

  Yours in Faith—the Most Reverend Benny Killebrew.

  Underneath was the Church's address and telephone number. Darnell shoved a thumb drive into a slot, copied the email and associated video, shoved the drive in his pocket and rose from his desk. Sunday was in four days, and it was high time he made an appearance at a church outside Austin. He'd watch the video at home after pouring himself a stout glass of bourbon.

  Things were falling into place far easier than he'd ever imagined they would. The recent outbreak of whatever it was that had set several morgues into emergency mode would play into his hands. And, if he could find others like Killebrew—his mission, which had never gained traction in the past, would be assured of success.

  "I called, but there was no answer. I left a message," Nico frowned at Mac.

  "Night. Fall." Mac said, before fluffing out his feathers. The ruff of red ones beneath his chin stuck straight out for a moment before falling back in place.

  "We need to tell Ari. I went looking for her earlier, but she was getting a talking to from Janie," Nico blew out a frustrated sigh.

  "Mis-take. She made."

  "Yeah. I understand it, though. I don't think I'd have let that guy drive away."

  "That one. Not. Gill-tee yet."

  "You think that will change?" Nico asked.

  "Yes. Soon. Have. Fee-ling." Mac walked carefully across Nico's bed so his talons wouldn't pull threads from the comforter, then hopped onto the footboard and made himself comfortable. "Bad. Biz-ness. May-bee Ari not best option. For you. Too im-pull-sive."

  "I'm not taking it back," Nico frowned at Mac. "Ari and I," he didn't finish. "Besides," he continued with a sigh, "the dreams are terrible, but you know that already."

  "Yes. Burr-den. Sorr-ee."

  "You don't make the choice. You just have to guard the choice."

  Mac ruffled his feathers again and croaked softly. Both knew, in their own way, that Nico's mother had already sacrificed herself for that choice.

  "You have green paint on your face." Ari jumped and held back a shriek as Nico made that comment. She'd been so engrossed in finishing the commissioned painting that she failed to hear him come down the basement steps.

  Mac stood on Nico's right shoulder, wisely holding back any comments. "Janie says dinner is almost ready. Is it done?" Nico studied the painting. "It's beautiful, Ari. It doesn't need another thing."

  "I'll text Burke and tell him it can be shipped in the next two days. I don't have crating supplies here—he'll have to make arrangements."

  "I'm sure he'll do fine," Nico said. "There are places in Dallas that can crate it for him."

  "I know. It's just hard not doing it myself, to make sure."

  "Yeah. Go wash the green paint off and come eat. Mary Kate made chicken and dumplings. It smells great. I promised I'd show her how to make tamales tomorrow."

  "Were you asking for tamales?" Ari frowned at Mac.

  "May-bee."

  "Ari, it will be a shame if my parents' recipes are lost," Nico said. "So I'm sharing them with Mary Kate. She's been good to us, just like Janie and Val."

  "I know. I'll go wash off the paint." Ari walked into the basement powder room and shut the door. "I'll meet you upstairs," she called out and turned the water on before looking at her face in the mirror. There it was—a smudge of green across one cheek. She recalled wiping a tear away as she painted, and it had left its own kind of evidence behind.

  "Your captain has given permission for you to travel with us next time."

  Lance accepted the thumb drive from Del Reeves as he digested what the FBI agent told him. "That was quite the mess in Rockport," Reeves continued. Lance sat across the table from the FBI agent in a Dallas restaurant. They'd met there to have dinner and discuss recent events.

  "I heard that tissue samples were being tested," Lance said, holding the thumb drive as if it were as dangerous as the information it contained.

  "We're waiting on results," Reeves grimaced. "You think they've been in the ladies' room too long?" Turning his head, Reeves glanced toward the hallway where the restaurant's bathrooms were.

  "I'm sure they're fine," Lance waved off Reeves' concern. "Besides, they both have guns and I, for one, wouldn't want to get into a fight with either."

  "Here they come," Reeves visibly relaxed as Mona and Laronda walked toward the table.

  Lance finally understood that Reeves had seen things in Rockport that made him wary. Did the thumb drive contain that information, or would he have to ferret it out of the agent?

  Mona leveled a look in Lance's direction as she took the chair beside his, letting him know she had information to share. Had Laronda given her what Reeves was hinting at?

  "I'm starved," Laronda lifted her menu and opened it. "Want to share an appetizer?"

  "Get what you want, Laronda," Reeves said. "We'll help you eat it."

  "If you like street tacos, their appetizer here is awesome," Mona said.

  "I'm sold," Laronda said. "I want a steak, too. Are they any good?"

  "Decent. Not the best you can get in Dallas, but good enough for the money," Lance told her.

  "Decent is fine. I need red meat."

  "I'm with you," Del set his menu down and closed it. "And another glass of Scotch. A double, at least."

  "Are we ready to order?" Their server arrived as if she'd been called.

  "Sure are," Lance drawled. "I'd like the T-bone, medium rare, please, with baked potato, everything on it and green beans, please."

  "I want the same," Mona handed her menu over.

  "We'll make it easy," Laronda said. "T-bone here, rare, please, with the same sides."

  "Make it four, medium rare, same sides," Del handed his menu to the woman.

  "So t
hat's four T-bones, three medium-rare and one rare, with baked potato and green beans?"

  "I think that's it, and he needs another Scotch—a double this time," Lance nodded toward Del.

  "I'll have your drink right out," the server smiled brightly before walking away to turn in the order.

  "Lance, there's a baby in isolation at a hospital in San Antonio," Mona said quietly. "The next-door neighbors asked the family to babysit and left the baby with the woman before going out for the evening."

  "Fucking hell," Lance breathed. "They think the baby is infected, now?"

  "They do," Laronda said, moving the salt and pepper shakers to the center of the table so all could reach them.

  "What in damnation can you do with a zombie baby?" Mona's voice broke. "Her parents were screaming when the baby was placed in a plastic bubble and taken away."

  "Somebody is watching them, now, to make sure they weren't infected, but they'd left the baby with the neighbors overnight and hadn't touched her," Laronda explained. "Once the police were called when the couple didn't answer the door, their bodies were found, in much the same shape as the victim in Austin. The baby had a single scratch across her forehead, but for now, she's still alive."

  "We figure the attack happened shortly after the baby was left with the victims," Del took up the tale. "It allowed enough time for the incubation period for whatever this disease is. Still doesn't account for the baby, though."

  "Have you gotten a handle on the incubation period?" Lance asked.

  "Six to eight hours before it appears to kill them—that jives with the victim in Austin. It takes another twelve to twenty-four before the zombie effect falls into place."

  Lance let that information settle as he focused on the Dallas street he could see through a nearby restaurant window. It was still daylight; the solstice was approaching, bringing the longest day of the year with it. New age people would be out celebrating the event.

  By that time, a baby could turn into a zombie, more attacks could come and who knew what the fallout would be from all of it if they didn't find a cause and a cure soon.