“According to the news, puberty arrives earlier for humans; apparently Daonain aren’t any different.” Alec paused, and then grinned. “But yes, you’re getting old.”
“Bugger you,” Calum said mildly. He opened the closet door.
Alec stepped in. Behind the hanging garments, he pressed two panels at once, moved his hands, and did two more. At the almost inaudible click, he shouldered open the door to the cave with a grunt of effort. No human would be able to open it by himself.
Calum followed, breathing in the cold, damp air that smelled of dirt and minerals. Downstairs in the cave, he stripped and tucked his clothing into the carved-out niches. The urgency, the
Alec was still undressing, as easygoing in this as he was in all things. Calum yawned, curling his lip back and exposing his fangs in a not-so-subtle hint.
His brother only grinned. “With your type A personality, you’ll probably have a heart attack before you reach seventy.”
As air from outside wafted into the cave from the three tunnels, Calum caught the heady scent of a rabbit and the end of his tail twitched. With an effort, he kept his mind from sinking too deeply into the wildness. They had things to do before they could hunt.
Finally, Alec shifted. He rumbled in satisfaction and shoved his golden-furred head into Calum’s shoulder. Typical Alec affection, Calum thought, as the love he felt for his brother mingled with feline acceptance of a littermate.
Calum rose to his hind legs, grabbing Alec with his front paws. They tussled until, with his distinctive chirp of enjoyment, Alec sprang down the left tunnel. Calum followed, then took the lead as they ran up the mountain to one of the few roads in their forest domain. It was unmarred by tracks; no vehicle had passed since the last rain. They moved to check the next road.
The waning moon had risen in the black sky before they reached the most distant road. After this, they could hunt, and Calum’s anticipation rose when his ears caught the scrabble of a shrew in the brush.
Overhead, the moon fought free of the clouds, illuminating fresh tire tracks. Calum’s claws unsheathed as anger welled inside him. Although ostensibly owned by a lumber company, this forest belonged to the Daonain. With an effort, he fought his way free of emotions. For now.
Alec’s muscular shoulder thudded into his, and Calum heard a harshly suppressed snarl as his brother spotted the tracks.
Calum padded silently into the forest, moving parallel to the road. The ruts continued for another mile. Near a small clearing, he caught the scent of humans and the cacophony of odors that accompanied them: deodorant, shaving lotion, leather, laundry soap, bath soap. He paused, letting his nose filter the information.
Two men. From the faint stench of dung and urine, they’d only arrived a few hours ago. No fire. A cold camp implied they didn’t want to be found. He flicked an ear at Alec, and his littermate turned, slinking silently to the right of the camp. Calum moved left.
Sitting with his back against a pine tree, the human on watch held a shotgun across his knees. The other man snored in his sleeping bag, black hair poking out through the top. Metal gleamed in the moonlight showing a pile of animal traps for large animals. Rage welled up inside Calum like molten lava. This was
Why? What did they know?
He pulled power and drew on a Cosantir’s awareness of his territory. Dev, Rosie, Angie, Ben…seven Daonain total roamed the mountains right now. He needed to drive the intruders away and destroy their traps. But carefully…very carefully.
Having Alec arrest them for trespass and illegal trapping could backfire if the hunters questioned how the sheriff found them in miles of wilderness. The Daonain survived by not drawing any attention.
Alec appeared from the underbrush, anger obvious in his tight muscles and glowing yellow eyes. A tingle, a blur, and he was in human form, hidden from the camp behind brush and trees. Calum followed suit.
“S’pose you’re not gonna let me rip their guts out,” Alec growled.
“Regretfully no.” Calum fought his own need to shred the hunters into little pieces. “They might have been hired to set traps without knowing why. Any other ideas?”
“Actually, yes.” Alec leaned against a cedar and scratched his back on the trunk. “I saw Ben’s spoor. Fresh.”
Ben? Recently laid off from his construction job, the shifter was enjoying his vacation in animal form. “Spook them out of their camp?”
Alec’s face had the innocent expression that his friends knew to distrust. “Every hunter knows how troublesome bears are, especially ones that have learned to scavenge. Why, I’ve heard bears think any container is filled with goodies.”
Calum’s gaze rested on the big cooler…undoubtedly full of food, and the packs and boxes scattered across the clearing. He rubbed his cheek, feeling the harsh scratch of stubble. The night was getting old.
He moved his mind to a Cosantir’s awareness. Ben was very close. “You have a wicked soul, brawd.”
A cougar snarled nearby.
From the shadows, Alec watched the man with the shotgun startle, his head thumping into the tree he’d been leaning on.
When the underbrush rustled, Alec grinned. Calum must be rubbing against every bush in the area. A loud snarl, even closer.
The guard jumped to his feet. The other man frantically struggled out of his sleeping bag and snatched up a tranquilizer gun. The two moved out of the clearing quickly and quietly.
Ten minutes later, Ben rampaged through the empty camp. The big bear enjoyed itself, clawing open boxes and backpacks and leaving litter strewn everywhere. Behaving exactly like a normal hungry bear.
Ben had saved the best for last-the three-foot-long ice chest. The bear clawed the cooler open, gouging the hard plastic. After a few slurping noises, Ben straightened. Half of a massive salami jutted from his jaws like a cigar.
Voices approached, and Alec stiffened. The hunters were returning, grumbling all the way. Calum had managed to lead them quite a ways before losing them.
“Hey! Hey, dammit!” The first man stepped into the clearing, holding the thirty-aught-six like he knew how to use it. “Somebody trashed our camp!”
Get the hell out of there, Ben.
Ben rose to his full height and let out a roar that halted the hunters in their tracks barely long enough for him to put a rockfall between him and the men. A shotgun blasted, echoing through the mountains. Sparks shot off the granite.
Without speaking, one man moved to check Ben’s trail while the other hung back, rifle poised at his shoulder.
Alec’s gut tightened as he watched the way the pair functioned. The quickness of their response, even the hand signals they used, pointed to military experience. And Lachlan had been tortured. The threat to the Daonain might be deadlier than anyone had realized.
Chapter Six
The run from the parking lot through the rain and into the Wild Hunt left Vic drenched. As icy water trickled down her neck, she turned to scowl at the downpour. In the last two weeks, the season had definitely settled into a cold wet autumn. The desert was looking better and better. After all, what were a few grenades and IEDs between
