That night, Alec rested one arm on the fireplace mantle as he listened to the debate. Despite the chill of the evening, the tavern felt uncomfortably warm, and the scent of anger and sweat mixed with the wood smoke. Golden light from the brass wall sconces flickered over the people squeezed around the heavy oak tables and lining the back. Seemed like any adult shifter in the Northern Cascades territory had attended.
After Calum had told them about the outlawed steel-jawed game traps that shifters had found in the forests, and that Thorson’s grandson had been missing for a month, the mood had turned ugly. No surprise there. Daonain were predators, after all. The werecats were the worst. A wolf or bear might fight if cornered; a cat would shred an opponent to bloody ribbons just for entertainment.
After Calum shot down Grady’s proposal to attack any human entering the area-Grady was rather excitable- Angelina claimed the floor. Alec listened for a minute, grinning at his brother’s careful lack of expression. Calum had little patience for stupidity, and Angelina’s logic was as convoluted as a house-brownie’s tracks on cleaning day.
“We don’t know if the trappers are after us specifically or just poaching,” Calum said, cutting Angelina off before she could digress further. He straightened from leaning on the bar, and the power of a Cosantir shimmered around him like heat waves. “If they’re looking for us, I’ll be happy to oblige them. After that, they won’t remember why they were on the mountain at all.”
The people laughed, and the level of hostility waned. Calum reminded them, “We’ve become lazy about observing the precautions. That needs to stop. Use the tunnels below the tavern. I want no humans to find piles of clothing at the edge of the forest, let alone to see one of you shift. Also, remember-”
The bar door burst open, and Joe Thorson shoved his way through the crowd to the center of the room. Deep lines and gray bushy brows accented his leathery face. Thin white scars covered his hands and arms-souvenirs of his younger days when he’d fought to win the females at Gatherings. Tears had tracked the dirt on his face.
Dread iced Alec’s blood. What could possibly make the old werecat cry?
After giving Thorson a second to recognize his scent, Alec wrapped an arm around his shoulders. With only a token snarl, the old man allowed the familiarity, yet another sign of his distress.
“What’s wrong, Joe?” Alec kept his tone calm as the raised voices hushed.
“My grandson-Lachlan,” Thorson’s voice was hoarse. “He’s dead. Killed in the city.”
The noise rose. Males lunging to their feet. Angelina’s shrill scream. The Murphy brothers’ curses.
Calum growled low, then snapped, “
In his usual jeans and white shirt, Thorson rubbed his face, streaking the dirt. “That shifter detective in Seattle-Tynan O’Connolly-just called. Like you asked, he’d watched for Lachlan in Seattle. He said…” His voice broke. “There was a young man’s body in the morgue.”
Alec raised an eyebrow at Calum, silently requesting permission to continue. Calum nodded.
“Go on, Joe,” Alec prompted, squeezing his shoulder.
Thorson shook his head like a confused animal. “The cops haven’t identified him, but they’re trying, passing out pictures. Tynan emailed me one. It’s my Lachlan.” His words dropped like stones into the quiet room.
“Did you go to the morgue in Seattle?” Alec asked quietly despite the unease fingering the back of his neck. An autopsy wouldn’t show the magic that created a shifter, but carelessness would. If Thorson’s actions exposed the shifters, he’d be declared an enemy of the Daonain…and as a cahir, Alec would have to kill him.
“I never went near the station.”
Relief loosened Alec’s grip, and he pulled in a hard breath. “By the God, I’m sorry, Joe. Sorry for Lachlan, sorry for you, that you can never-”
“Never put claim to him or bury him. I know, dammit.” Thorson stared at the floor.
Calum said, “I’ll call Tynan for more information, but for now-has he discovered how Lachlan died?”
Thorson’s head snapped up, his eyes burning with fury. Against his fingertips, Alec felt the tingle of imminent trawsfur. He shook the old man’s arm. “Control yourself. We need answers, not claws.”
When Thorson growled, Alec tensed, preparing to fight a berserk cougar.
After a moment, Thorson sucked in a breath, and the tingling receded, disappeared. As the wildness left his body, his eyes showed his shame. The old guy probably hadn’t lost control like that since he was a cub. “Sorry, my friend,” he said softly.
“It’s all right,” Alec answered, equally softly. “Tell us what you know.”
Sorrow deepened the lines in Joe’s face, and he had to clear his throat. “He looked starved. Ribs showing. Tynan said he was jaundiced from liver shutdown.”
“Metal-induced?” Alec asked.
“Yes.” The man’s fingers curled, shaping claws.
Alec shared the need to slash and rend. The pain of that kind of death… Instead, he squeezed the tight shoulder under his hand. “Stay with me here, Joe.”
A heavy breath. “He had burn marks, cuts, bruises. He’d been beaten. Tortured. Some of the cuts were in square patterns on his skin.”
“Wire cage,” Calum growled. His pupils had turned black with a Cosantir’s rage. “That would explain the liver failure, too.”
“They kept my boy in a cage!” The words burst from Thorson. “They tortured him, starved him.” He moaned, “A cage, Cosantir, a cage…”
“They will pay,” Calum said quietly. “Was Lachlan penned up when they found him?”
Thorson shuddered, staring at the floor, and Alec knew the man couldn’t bear much more. He needed the forest, to feel the trees and grass and scent of freedom, to have the Mother’s love around him. “Tynan thinks Lachlan escaped,” Joe said. “But too late. A man found my boy and a female on his doorstep and took them in, then called 911.”
“Did-”
“When the police and ambulance arrived, Lachlan was dead. The female ran out through the back door.”
“Hell,” Alec muttered.
Finally, Thorson looked up at their leader. The old man had known Calum and Alec since they were boys sneaking reads of comic books in his store, but he showed no memory of that now. As close as he was to changing, he probably only saw the black eyes and the aura of power. “Cosantir, please. I need-”
“We can manage here, Joe,” Calum said. “Purge your grief on the mountain. Alec, go with.”
As Thorson stumbled toward the exit, hands reached out to him-carefully-to stroke in shared sorrow and friendship.
Alec led him into the cool, silent cave like a child. Without speaking, they stripped, Alec lending a hand as Thorson fumbled. Then, Alec called the magic. As the wildness enveloped him, his mind sank like a stone, deep into animal instincts. There was only
As his paws hit the earth, Alec felt the touch of the Mother as Her love flowed into him. Raising his head, he sniffed the air. Already in cougar form, Thorson stood in the doorway. Alec butted his shoulder affectionately and led the way out of the tunnel.
The light of a pale, cold moon shone down outside the cave, and the scent of the pine needles under their paws rose around them. Alec looked back to see the gleam of cat eyes and then sprang forward into the dark forest. Joe followed.
Vic woke, didn’t move while she assessed her surroundings. Warm, smooth fabric over and under her, a faint lemon scent-sheets. She lay in a bed. A bed was good, much better than concrete.
