Hour of the Lion

He pointed toward the mountaintop. “Straight up there.”

“Oh, God,” she said resignedly. “Mountain climbing in a blizzard at night. You cat-people sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

* * *

“What do you mean, you lost her?” Vidal scowled and pressed the cell phone closer to his ear.

“Four of my men walked into that bookstore. None came out. Gotta figure they’re dead.” Swane’s cold voice could barely be heard through the static. “The old fart-the owner of the store-went to the hospital. Cops are saying a man tried to rob the bookstore and escaped after shooting the owner. No mention of Morgan or anyone else. Definitely a cover up.”

Incompetent bastards. Vidal swore under his breath. “Go on.”

“I asked around quietly, and she works at the town tavern, only she’s using the name Waverly.”

“Check out the bar,” Vidal agreed. “Is she at her place?”

“No. Her house is empty, but her car is still parked there. She’s not at the tavern either.”

Worse and worse. Morgan would be a fool to return to the town. And they’d alerted the werecreatures.

However, their target area was obviously Cold Creek. Dammit. “How could one old man and a woman kill off four men?” Bungling fuckups. Vidal kicked his wastebasket across the room and halted, shocked at his own actions. He never lost control. Ever.

“I’m not sure,” Swane said. “But I got an idea. I want to grab someone who can tell us about the town. Not a creature-just a person who’d know what’s going on. About the shifters…and their families.”

Vidal sat down in his chair. Carefully. “What good would that do?”

“Leverage, boss.” Swane’s laugh made Vidal’s skin crawl. “Beastie-boy sure as fuck would’ve talked if I’d been skinning pieces off his sister.”

“Do it.”

* * *

Fuckin’ A. Vic was freezing. She hadn’t been this cold since a mission in the mountains of Afghanistan. She shivered so hard her bones hurt. But that was good. When a person stopped shivering, death was right behind.

And she knew some of the shivering was from what she’d done. She’d killed. The feeling of shattering bone, the sound of the man choking on his own blood, the blank look of death-she swallowed as nausea rose again. Wiped the tears from her face…again.

The snow increased the higher they went, sometimes whipping into her face like sand and sometimes falling straight down, piling up so she could no longer see the tree roots and obstacles underneath. She had the bruises to show for it, having flattened her length out on the trail a few times. Grace incarnate, that’s me.

The sun was gone, the moon wasn’t up, and even if it was, nothing would penetrate the dark clouds overhead. Her wimpy-ass penlight had died an hour ago.

Why the hell am I here? She should have stayed in Cold Creek, taken out the backup people, then found Swane and the business-guy and wiped them out. Then-maybe-she wouldn’t feel so guilty. Her mouth tightened as she remembered Thorson’s wound, the blood on the desk, his pain. God, so stupid. Why had she ever tried to escape through his store?

Too late to do anything now. The bad guys would be long gone. She’d have to wait for Wells to give her the information on Swane she needed-and then, no matter what, she’d finish this.

Wells. Oh fuck. She was due in Washington D.C. She felt like hitting her head against a tree. Could her life get any more screwed up?

“We’re almost there.” Alec’s voice reached her.

Oh, sure, and he’d been saying that for over an hour. That fine body of his had moved steadily up the mountain-never faltering, never tripping, never falling. If she’d had the energy, she would have planted a boot right where the sun don’t shine.

“Ah. There we go,” he said.

Concentrating on the lousy footing, she ran into his stationary figure. “Oomph.”

“Sorry.” He pointed to something undistinguishable in the darkness. “We’re here.”

She squinted. Nothing. “How can you tell?”

“Cat eyes, baby, cat eyes.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he urged her across a small clearing to a building.

“There is a god,” she breathed, and Alec chuckled.

“Hold on a minute.” He shoved open the door and went in. A lantern flickered alight.

Taking that as an invite, she pulled the door shut behind her. There was no heat, but the escape from the wind made the place seem almost warm. Teeth chattering, she looked around. An authentic, one-room cabin with a fireplace on the far wall, wood and kindling next to it. A rough-hewn table and stump chairs on the left. Pots and pans hung from nails, and dishes were stacked on a rustic shelf. Wooden bins were built into each wall.

Alec set the lantern on the table and started building a fire. He nodded at the bin. “There’s blankets and some sleeping pads in the box. Why don’t you haul them out? Put them here in front of the fireplace.”

Wool blankets, foam pads, quilts. By the time she’d piled them in the center of the room, the fire blazed with enough heat to make her numbed fingers tingle.

Alec set a snow-filled pot on the grill, then rummaged through a metal-lined bin filled with canned foods and freeze-dried meals. A few minutes later, they had mugs of hot chocolate.

“Nice place,” Vicki murmured, risking her lips to sip the scalding chocolate. She swallowed and closed her eyes to savor the sensation of heat bursting inside her.

Alec toasted her with his mug and a smile. “We keep it stocked for emergencies like this, and for shifters who get hurt and can’t make it back to town.”

He added another log to the fire and settled onto the pile of blankets. “Whoever uses the place reports to Calum, and he sends up whatever is needed to restock it.”

“Carry supplies up that mountain?”

“That’s why Herne invented teenagers.”

She snorted a laugh and settled herself in the other blanket pile. The shivers had lessened, and she gazed sleepily around the room. “No windows?”

He shook his head. “Prevents any telltale glow at night. There’s enough trees overhead to disperse most of the smoke, and as you saw, getting here isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“No shit.” Two narrow ledges, hopping from stone to stone across creeks. “Were you following a path?”

“A variety of animal trails. We never use the same one twice, and if one starts looking too obvious, it’s abandoned for a season or two.”

“How can you tell if someone’s used a trail recently?”

He tapped his nose. “People leave a scent.”

“Even in person form, you have cat eyes and noses, huh?” She frowned remembering Jamie tripping over a bottle in the dark parking lot. “Jamie doesn’t see well at night.”

“Not yet. After her first trawsfur, she will. And as she spends time in animal form, the more she’ll acquire animal senses.” He grinned. “There are theories about why. Personally, I think we get used to seeing at night and using our noses, and our human bodies adjust.”

“Huh.” Her eyes drooped, and she jerked her head up as she realized she was nodding.

Alec took the cup from her hand. “Go ahead and sleep. You’re safe now, Vixen.”

Safe? The man was out of touch with reality. The world held no safety. As her eyes closed, she felt a blanket being tucked around her.