Chapter
Twenty-two
Had she snapped? Had Connor managed to pull her
into his fantasy world? Zoey swallowed hard and took a slow, shaky
breath to steady herself. Now was not the time to figure out how a
wolf came to be in her apartment. Options. There
have to be options. Maybe she could lock herself in the
bathroom or barricade herself in the bedroom. Too
far. The wolf would be on her before she could make it. The
hallway—if she could make it to the hallway of the apartment
building, she could close the beast in, call for help. But the wolf
was between her and the door. A weapon? Maybe she could hit it with
something, stun it, distract it just long enough. . .
.
So far, the wolf hadn’t moved. It
merely sat and regarded her, its head tilted to one side, its great
jaws gaping into a huge sharp-toothed grin. Could she catch it off
guard? The door to the hallway was to her right. She made a feint
to the left and gasped as the massive wolf leapt to its feet—but it
didn’t attack her. Instead, it jumped into her recliner with enough
force to open it up. She was about to make her break for the door,
when the wolf caught her attention. It was lying on its back across
the chair, feet paddling the air, head hanging over the end of the
footrest, mouth open, tongue lolling.
My God, is it crazy?
Maybe it’s rabid. It was far too big for the chair. The
powerful creature looked absolutely ridiculous. I
must be nuts too. Stop looking at the wolf and get out of
here!
But she couldn’t take her eyes off the
wolf. It rolled onto the floor and crouched there, bouncing on its
front paws like an oversized puppy, filling the air with little
excited barks. Then it seized the remote off the coffee table with
careful teeth and tossed it at her.
Zoey caught the remote more out of
instinct than intent. The enormous wolf was looking at her
expectantly and yipped again. She found herself wanting to respond,
wanting to join in the insanity and toss the remote. Quickly she
shoved the impulse away. There was something else pressing on her
conscious mind, something familiar that she should know but
couldn’t quite grasp.
The wolf wouldn’t give up, however. It
came creeping toward her on its belly, whining softly, wagging its
tail. She was so mesmerized by its silly performance that she
failed to realize it was within reach of her foot. Before she could
yank it away, a broad pink tongue flicked out and licked her bare
toes.
“Don’t do that!” Zoey yanked her foot
away. Great, now I’m talking to it! She felt
behind her for the couch, wondered if she could jump up and over it
successfully before the beast got any closer. Would that give her a
second or two to make it to another room? Suddenly the huge animal
was right next to her. It rolled onto its back, still making soft
little whining sounds, nudging her leg with its nose.
His nose. The
animal was definitely male. The wolf wriggled itself up close to
her, begging for her attention like an oversized dog. Hesitantly,
knowing it was insane but still unable to resist, Zoey reached out
and touched the silvery fur on the animal’s chest, then found
herself looking directly into its strange pale eyes. Pale
gray eyes. . . .
Several things rocketed through her
brain at once. Silver pelt marked with a black saddle. The wolf
that had protected her. In her dreams. In reality.
“Connor?”
The wolf yipped and rolled upright. She
reached out to touch him again, an expression of wonder on her
face. Ran her hands through the thick soft fur around his muscled
neck, inhaled the primal scent of him. The wolf from her dream. The
man she loved. “You’re the same. Omigod, you’re the same. All this
time. I didn’t know, I didn’t understand.”
The great wolf leaned in to nuzzle her
russet hair, licked her face softly, washing away the tears that
ran freely.
You had no way of
knowing, little falcon.
Zoey jumped backward as if the animal
had snapped at her. The words had resounded clearly in her head.
“You didn’t . . . you couldn’t . . . you just—”
Talked to you. Yes I
did.
“I can hear you! Omigod, I can hear
you! Connor!” She automatically touched her ears with her hands,
although she hadn’t heard the words physically.
Of course, you can hear
me. You’re psychic, remember? Most of the Pack can talk to each
other just like this.
“Of course I can . . .” She laughed a
little desperately, and shook her head. “Good grief, look at me.
I’m sitting in my living room with a telepathic wolf.”
Changeling.
“Changeling. Wolf and human together.
Is it—are they equal parts of you? Are you really half and half or
is one side in charge of things?”
His snort of laughter tickled the
inside of her head. Some days I wonder. But both
sides love you with everything they have. He licked her face
once more then backed away a few steps, holding her gaze with
his.
Electricity suddenly crackled through
Zoey’s hair and prickled her skin. Something unknown called her,
pulled at her, brought forth a strange yearning from deep within
her . . . In an instant it was gone and she saw Connor’s face
appear through a whirl of blue sparks. Without thinking, she leaned
forward to brush the hair back from his eyes.
“Ow!” A powerful static charge snapped
from his face to her fingers as she accidentally grounded the
electricity. He had the nerve to laugh, even as he took her hand
and kissed it better. “I’m afraid you have to watch out for that,
honey. It’s like shuffling your feet across the carpet and touching
a doorknob, but a helluva lot stronger.” He sat down beside her at
the foot of the couch and gathered her under his arm, kissed the
top of her head. “Devlin developed a theory about how much power is
collected, so after a few beers one night, he set a lightbulb on
the floor beside him and Changed while we all watched to see what
would happen. The bulb lit up all right, then it exploded. Culley
and Kenzie picked a lot of glass slivers out of his hide that
night.”
Zoey turned to study his face. “I’m not
dreaming. Unless I’ve fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole, it’s all
really true, isn’t it? I’m going to wake up in the morning and this
will have really happened.”
“Yup, ’fraid so.”
“And your brothers are like you?” Her
thoughts tumbled like stones in a polishing drum, becoming brighter
and clearer with every turn. A lot of things were beginning to make
sense.
“My whole family actually. You’ve
already met Culley in his furry form.”
“I have?”
“The clinic. My office.”
“The big black—but that was a dog!”
Suddenly she wasn’t sure.
“No, it was a big black wolf doing a terrific impression of a big black dog.
What can I say? The boy’s got a helluva knack.”
Werewolves doing
impressions . . . She filed that surreal thought away for
the moment. “How about your friends?”
He nodded. “The Watsons are
Changelings. A few others as well.”
“Aha!” She pointed her finger at him.
“Lowen Miller, right?”
“Nope.”
“No? But he didn’t seem very surprised
when . . .” she trailed off.
“No doubt you told him I thought I was
a wolf. And Lowen didn’t react because he’s known about Changelings
for years.”
“You’re kidding. There are ordinary
humans that know about you and it hasn’t been on CNN or National
Geographic? How can that be?”
“Maybe Changelings choose their friends
well.”
“And maybe nobody believes anybody that
talks.”
“That helps a lot.”
“But Helfren believes. And I’ll bet a
lot of his readers believe too.”
“His belief didn’t give him any
credibility in your office.”
“No. No, it sure didn’t.”
She leaned over and laid her head on
his shoulder, shaken to the core by the wonder and the enormity of
what he’d revealed to her. The world as she knew it had abruptly
changed forever. “I guess I’ll have to apologize for not believing
you.”
“No need. It’s too much to ask anyone
to believe all at once,” he said, stroking her hair and leaning
down to brush it with his lips. “You were pretty damn brave, you
know. Bill fainted when Jessie Changed in front of him the first
time. And don’t ever tell him I told you.”
“You gotta be kidding. Bill? But he’s a
wolf too, right? I mean, he can be a wolf when he wants to
be?”
“Yes. Jessie gave him the gift. She’s
Pack leader, by the way. We usually run together.”
Sure you do. It
still sounded bizarre to Zoey. Maybe it wouldn’t in time, but
today? Definitely the stuff that role-playing video games were made
of. Still, Bill and Jessie seemed normal, appeared to be perfectly
happy. They ran a business, held barbecues for their friends . . .
Why wasn’t she surprised that Jessie was a pack leader?
You think size matters? Zoey found herself
chuckling at this new spin on her friend’s words.
Connor squeezed her shoulders. “What’s
so funny?”
“Well, it all makes the Hollywood
stereotype seem so silly—you know, tormented human
turns into werewolf and eats everyone in sight. Bill and
Jessie are so friendly and sweet, it’s—” Suddenly her own words
sank in. “Omigod,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hands
as if to stifle the words. Menzie. Images of
the farmer’s terrified face, his torn body, flashed through her
mind. Was there something Connor wasn’t telling her? Was there a
dark side to his dual nature? What about his family and friends?
They all seemed like normal human beings by day—but what were they,
really, by night?
And dear God, what was she about to
become?
“You’re not going to turn into a
vicious killer.” Connor followed Zoey throughout the house as she
paced. She was frantic and frightened, but he had to give her
credit for holding herself together.
“He bit me. You told me he’s my sire.
If I can get this goddamn werewolf virus from him, why not the
homicidal tendencies?”
“Bernie’s crazy for a reason, and it
has nothing to do with a virus or genes or anything else.” Connor
searched for a way to address her fears. “He can’t pass that on to
you.”
“And no one else has whatever he has?
Because I need to know that he’s the only one, Connor. Tell me that
the rest of you don’t go out in the middle of the night and gobble
up hitchhikers and homeless people.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or be
pissed off at that. “You’ve been watching way too many bad movies,
honey.”
“Don’t take that tone with me. I don’t
have any reference points for all of this. I had no idea that
werewolves—”
“Changelings.”
“—werewolves
existed until today. On top of that, you’re telling me I’m going to
become one. If that’s true, how do I know you didn’t plan it this
way? Maybe you didn’t want a human lover, maybe what you really
wanted was for me to be just like you. Well, I don’t want this, Connor Macleod. I don’t want any of
it, do you hear me?”
“I didn’t do this to you,” he growled.
With a quicksilver motion, he reached out a powerful arm and
gathered her back against him, nearly taking her off her feet.
Wrapped his other arm around her as well and held her. She
struggled a little, then made a disgusted noise and settled for
glaring up at him with furious eyes. His own anger began to
dissipate. Zoey might be putting up a brave front, but he could
sense the fear, scent it on her. She wasn’t afraid of him—but she
was terrified of the unknown. “I didn’t do this to you,” he
repeated, gently this time. “I would never put you through this
unless you asked me, and even then, not until you’d had more time
in our world and understood what you were asking for.”
“You wouldn’t have turned me into a
wolf?”
“Never. Not unless you truly wanted it.
And if you didn’t want it, then we would continue just as we are.
And I happen to think we’re pretty damn good together.” He waggled
his brows at her. “You sure didn’t need to be a wolf to drive me
crazy the other night.”
She seemed to relax a little at that.
He kept his arms tight around her just the same, but took a chance
and planted a gentle kiss on her head, nuzzled her thick russet
hair. “We have to deal with what is, Zoey. It’s not fair that
you’ve been bitten, not fair that you have no choice. It’s against
all Changeling law. But it’s done. We have to go from here and make
the best of it.”
“Easy for you to say. I don’t know what
to do. I don’t see an instruction manual anywhere. What if I can’t
Change, what if I don’t do it right? What if I change into a
Labrador Retriever or something instead of a wolf? I read about
shapeshifters who can become anything. I could end up being a
groundhog or a goddamn chicken!”
He was certain that if he gave in to
the laughter that was threatening to burst out, she’d get even more
upset. “Okay, sure, there are legends of people who can become any
animal they want. But I’ve never met any. Or heard of anyone who
has. You’ll be a wolf, I promise. You won’t even have to think
about it.”
Zoey looked unconvinced. “Does it
hurt?”
He wished he could say no. Instead, he nodded. “The first time, yes it does.
Not so much for those who are born Changelings, but there’s a great
deal of pain for those who are human to start with, I’m afraid.
Most of the pain is in the bones, like a severe case of arthritis.
It’s because they have to shift proportions so dramatically, much
more so than any other part of the body. The most important thing
is not to fight it. It’s painful but you have to keep your fear
under control. If you panic and start resisting, the pain gets
worse.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said ruefully,
then searched his face. “Does it hurt you to Change?”
“No, not at all. Like I said, it only
hurts the first time. The next time and every time after that, you
don’t feel a thing. It’s like your body knows the way, has created
a pattern to follow. And it comes faster. After you’ve Changed a
few times, it becomes pretty much instantaneous.”
“Do you have any idea how surreal this
is? Or how scary? You’ve grown up with the concept of people
turning into animals. I haven’t known about this for twenty-four
hours yet.”
He leaned down and touched his forehead
to hers, rested his broad hands on her shoulders. “I’ll be with you
every step of the way, I swear it. I’ll help you. We’ll get through
it together.” Now he was the one putting on a brave front. The
whole idea of Zoey going through the first Change scared him to
death. He certainly understood now why Geoff Lassiter had waited so
long—almost three years—before allowing his human wife, Melly, to
join him. There was always a certain amount of risk involved, just
as there was with childbirth. If a problem developed, however, no
human hospital could help.
Connor wished that Kenzie and Birkie
were here. He could call them, he knew, and they would come home
immediately. But good Christ, he didn’t want either of them within
a thousand miles of Dunvegan until Bernie was dead. No, better to
leave things as they were, with the women safely in Scotland. If
Zoey wasn’t so close to the Change, he’d send her there
too.
“You’re frowning,” she
said.
“I just remembered that there’s no one
looking after the farm but me today. I need to drive out and feed
some animals, check on things. Maybe that’s a good thing. You look
like you could use some fresh air.”
“I don’t know, Connor. I think I’d
rather stay here and lie down.”
He shook his head. “You can lie down at
the farm if you like, but we’re not splitting up again for any
reason. That damn reporter was parked outside your building when I
came in.” He waved a hand at the window.
“I’m not surprised. He phones a dozen
times a day,” she sighed. “But I’m perfectly safe in my own
apartment. There’s a deadbolt on the door and I’m on the third
floor, for heaven’s sake.”
“If you were on the twentieth floor, I’d still be worried about Bernie. The
crazy old bastard’s still at large and he’s targeted you. And
believe me, he could climb to your balcony just as easily as I just
did.”
“He’s an old man!”
“No, he’s not. He’s old as dirt, all
right, but he’s a Changeling. You saw the gray wolf at the
party—did he look old and decrepit to you? Or the night he bit your
leg—I’m betting he didn’t look too geriatric then
either.”
Zoey shivered. “Okay, okay. I get the
point.”
Connor slipped his arms around her.
“Besides that, we’re a team now.” He nuzzled her ear, brushed his
lips over her temple, her brow. “I don’t ever want to be without
you again. These last few days were hard enough. So I’m thinking
you should marry me, and the sooner the better.”
“Don’t you want to wait and see what I
look like as a wolf first? I might be ugly and then you’d be stuck.
The other Changelings would make fun of you.”
He laughed then. He couldn’t help it.
“I’ll take my chances. Is that a yes?”
“No, it’s a let me take
something for the headache I’m getting, and I’ll get ready to
go.”
His hand found the back of her neck,
rubbed it gently. “Another migraine already?”
“Yeah. I usually only get a couple in a
month, but lately it’s been one after another.” She laid her head
on his chest and sighed as he massaged her shoulders, her neck, the
back of her head.
“I’ll bet it’s because the first Change
is coming on. Your hormones are probably all over the map as your
body adjusts to accommodate it.”
“Hormones?” She gripped his arms.
“Please, please tell me I don’t get PMS with
this.”
“I sure hope not,” he chuckled. “But
anything’s possible. The good news is, after you’ve gone through
the Change once, the migraines will stop. In fact, you’ll probably
never have another one. Never have a cold either. Changelings are
remarkably healthy.”
“No migraines? Ever? You should have
told me that first—I might have volunteered to be a werewolf!” She
smiled then, the first real smile he’d seen in days, and it was
like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Still smiling, she
stepped into him, fisted her hands in his hair and pulled his face
down to hers.
“I need you, Connor,” she whispered.
Her amber eyes were lit with tenderness, with love, with desire.
With a hundred emotions that were all for him. “Now; I need you
right now and right here.”
He meant to say I need
you, too. Before he could get the words out, however,
something primal slipped its leash. What possessed him went far
beyond a human need and he wanted, hungered and craved with a soul-deep yearning that shook him. Before,
he had always been careful, even gentle, not wanting to overwhelm
her with his strength. Now, without any warning, he was a creature
maddened by thirst, balanced on the brink of deep mountain
lake.
In the blink of an eye, he yanked her
hard against him. Took her lips in a bruising kiss and thrust his
tongue deep, clutching her ass in viselike hands. What small part
of him was still sane expected her to protest such tactics and
shove him away, yet he couldn’t make himself pull back. Instead, a
faint growl escaped him. Then her tongue flicked lightly at the
corners of his mouth, slid teasingly between his lips. One slender
hand knotted itself in his hair as her pelvis rocked into his. The
surprise of it held him still for a fraction of an instant, long
enough for her to unhook his straining jeans and slide her hand
inside.
As her cool fingers caged his rampant
cock, he sucked in an empty breath—the air had long since left the
room. Slowly, slowly, her hand began to slide up and down and the
beast that had wanted so badly to ravage and take was suddenly at
her command. He opened his eyes to find her amber ones fixed on
him—and in them was the same primordial need that had overtaken
him.
In a heartbeat they were on the floor.
A wild desperation to be in one skin drove them to tear at each
other’s clothes. She was wet as he pressed against her, wet and hot
and hungry for him as he stroked into her. She urged him on,
wrapping her legs around him, pulling him in harder, deeper as her
pleasure gathered and spiked. Wrapped her arms around him as his
body throbbed out his own bliss.
When sense finally returned, they were
gasping and laughing in a comfortable tangle of arms and legs. The
tangle of clothing was less comfortable. Connor kicked away his
jeans from one ankle. Zoey’s bra was looped crazily around an elbow
and her shirt was attached by only a cuff.
“I sure hope the neighbors are at
work,” she giggled as she tried to free herself from her sleeve. “I
don’t want the cops at my door asking what all the noise was
about.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll only
write you a ticket.”
“Write me a
ticket? What about you? You all but howled at the
end!”
“Fitz is a buddy of mine. I’m pretty
sure I can get off with a warning.” Connor helped her turn the
tangled cuff and undid the button. “Maybe I’ll put in a good word
for you too. After all,” he grinned. “I love you, Zoey
Tyler.”
She stripped off the offending shirt
with a sigh of relief. “I love you too. I didn’t stop, you know.
Not even when I thought you were, well—”
“Crazy? That’s good to know. So you’ll
stand by me if I develop any mental problems in the
future?”
“Absolutely.”
“Even if I do something crazy like
this?” He nuzzled her face, sought her mouth and kissed her long
and deep. Roved his hands over her pliant body, skimming his
fingers lightly over her soft skin until she shivered. Palmed the
moist heat between her legs until she moaned aloud.
“Okay, yes, especially if you do something crazy like this.” She
gasped as he slipped a finger into her, trembled as he swirled it
slowly around. “Omigod, I don’t think we can do this again
already.”
“Bet we can.” He grinned. “We’ll just
take it long and slow. Very, very slow.”
The colorful shades were drawn and the
Closed sign swung in the window of the Finer
Diner, but Culley walked in the front door just the same. Most of
the Pack was already there, including the RCMP sergeant, all
watching a disheveled Devlin as he taped district maps to the candy
display. A bundle of colored markers rattled in his shirt pocket
and Culley chuckled to himself. My brother the
geek.
Culley raised a hand at Lassiters and
McIntyres, nodded to Holt LaLonde and Fitzpatrick, winked at René
Ghostkeeper, then took a seat in a booth across from Bill and
Jessie. Jessie looked exhausted and grim, leaning back against her
husband as he rocked her gently. Culley knew that she, as well as
most of the people in the room, had been hunting for the rogue
Changeling almost around the clock since the night of the barbecue.
Still, the Pack leader managed a faint grin for him.
“What are we looking at, Dev?” Culley
called out.
His twin ran a hand through his hair,
unaware that the gesture only made parts of it stand up straight.
“I thought if we looked at where Bernie’s been, we could spot some
sort of pattern.”
“What, like in Scooby Doo?” Holt
snorted. “That stuff only happens in the movies.”
“Yeah, well so do monsters,” said Culley. “But we seem to have one
anyways.”
Jessie rose to her feet. Despite her
obvious weariness, her voice was clear and firm. “Ideas, people. We
need ideas and we need them now. Bernard Gervais has eluded our
best trackers and we don’t know how he’s doing it. I don’t even
care how, as long as we figure out where he
is so we can stop him. So all ideas need to be on the table no
matter how silly or farfetched you might think they
are.”
“Motive,” said Fitz. “If we know what
he wants, we could figure out where he’s going.”
Geoff Lassiter rolled his eyes.
“Bernie’s crazy. Who knows what the hell he wants?”
“Crazy, and grouchy as an old bear.
Have you ever met anyone so rude?” asked his wife, Melly. Her
makeup didn’t hide the circles under her eyes.
“More than rude. He hates us—does that count as a motive?” Culley ventured.
“Of course, I don’t know if he hates the Pack as a whole or each of
us individually.”
“Both, and some more than others,” said
Devlin.
Bill shook his head. “Bernie’s a right
miserable cuss, but it’s not members of the Pack he’s attacked.
He’s picked on humans, and one for sure that he didn’t even
know.”
“Zoey,” said Culley. “But maybe Bernie
doesn’t attack Changelings because he knows he can’t win. Like an
angry bully who only picks on kids smaller than him.”
“Well, if he’s attacking humans at
random, I don’t know how we can predict what he’ll do next,” said
Melly. “For all we know, he’s picking on humans just to make life
hard for us.”
Fitz looked thoughtful. “You know, Mel,
that makes a lot of sense. Bernie doesn’t have to fight any
Changelings in order to make life miserable for every one of us. He
just has to scare the general population. It’s going to be tough to
be a wolf in these parts soon. Some people are already out
hunting.”
“You’re talking like that old coot has
a plan,” said Holt. “I think Geoff had it right. What if Bernie’s
just batshit crazy? That means there’s no motive, no pattern, no
nothing.”
Culley sat back as the meeting got
“lively,” as Jessie often termed it. As a species, Changelings were
strong-willed and intelligent, and that usually translated into
strong opinions too. This type of an assembly tended to resemble a
gathering of relatives at Thanksgiving when the subject of politics
came up. It was going to be noisy for a while. . . .
Devlin was busy circling things on the
maps and Culley strained to see what his twin was doing. Finally,
he got up to take a closer look. “Are these all the places Bernie’s
been spotted?”
“Well, not quite all.” Devlin made a
couple more circles with a marker. “Holt caught sight of him
here and chased him for a short ways until
he vanished without a trace. And here’s where the McIntyres saw
Bernie, up on the ridge. By the time they got there, he’d
disappeared and there was no trail to follow.”
Culley’s gaze flicked from one circle
to the other. “I can see roads intersecting these locations. But
even if Bernie was driving or taking the damn bus, there’d still be
a trail of scent in the air.” He closed his eyes, tried to picture
each location, conjuring not just the image but the smell. If a
Changeling had been somewhere in lupine form, then his brain
automatically had the location mapped out in immense detail by
scent. Culley knew all of these places intimately, right down to
the smallest clump of earth and the types of plants that grew
there. Slowly, he drew in a long breath of air as he savored each
scent stored in his mind, noting the odors common to all the
locations—
His eyes flew open. “Devlin, we need a
more detailed map.”
Half an hour later, it was Culley
standing in front of the Pack. Emotions were still running high but
the Changelings had settled into relative quiet. For the moment. At
the new map, hastily scanned and enlarged at a local geological
survey office, Devlin traced something in blue highlighter. At
first, the thick colored line resembled a tree, branching out in
all directions. Little Burnt Creek wound its way along the edge of
town, a tiny stream as it passed under the Gamble Street Bridge.
But by the time the creek made its way to the Peace River, it
wasn’t tiny anymore. Instead, countless streams had trickled
through the rolling landscape to join it, swelling it to a
respectable size before it merged with the mighty
river.
“This is the old Gervais place.” Devlin
made a square with green marker, then drew two more. “This is
Menzie’s farm. And this, over here, is the
local golf course outside of town.”
“They’re all linked,” announced Culley.
“Everywhere Bernie’s made an appearance, he’s been able to get
there by water. Water is the key.”
“What, he’s swimming?” Holt didn’t clue
in at first.
Jessie did, immediately. She sat up and
pounded her small fist on the table hard enough to rattle the salt
and pepper shakers. “Goddammit. He’s using an old fox’s
trick.”
There were nods around the room. It was
one of the most basic of strategies, employed by many animals. A
fox pursued by a dog would enter a creek and walk downstream for a
time before returning to dry land. The pursuer would have a
difficult time finding the scent where the quarry had left the
water.
“Yes and no,” replied Culley. “I think
he’s taken the old trick to a whole new level. I think Bernie’s
using the water system in this area as his own personal highway. In
fact, I’ll bet he seldom leaves the waterways except to commit some
new atrocity.”
Geoff wasn’t convinced. “Come on,
Culley. We’re good hunters, all of us, and Changelings have keener
senses than even real wolves do. Holt and I followed the stream by
Menzie’s for nearly four miles in each direction without ever
catching a hint of that bastard’s scent. It just plain wasn’t
there. Water can hide tracks and trail, sure, but we’d be able pick
the scent out of the air itself if we had to.”
“True, but I’ll bet more than the water
is hiding him from us,” said Jessie. “By now, Bernard’s accumulated
a great deal of power from the blood he’s spilled. Enough power to
almost seem like magic. If he’s walking along a creek bed, he might
very well be able to wrap the energy of the water around himself
like a blanket.”
“Is that even possible?” asked Holt.
“Sounds like science fiction.”
“I have seen it done,” she replied.
“And I think it’s more than possible in this case.”
Frowning, Melly leaned forward. “I’m
confused. Are you saying this energy, this power, acts like some
kind of camouflage?”
Jessie nodded. “Not only would we be
unable to scent him, we might not even be able to see him when he’s traveling along the
water.”
“Bollocks.” Bill sat back. “That means
the rotter can come and go as he bloody well pleases.”
“So what do we do? Bernie’s running
around like a mad dog and people are dying,” said Geoff. “There
must be some damn way of using this information.”
Fitzpatrick nodded. “Maybe there is. We
could try to anticipate who might be targeted next. If he’s using
the water system like Devlin says, then what other farms are along
it? Where is Bernie most likely or most able to strike
again?”
Devlin squinted at the map, pulled a
red marker from the bundle in his pocket and made four new squares.
“Tom Yasinski has a big bison ranch north of town. This creek right
here passes through it. Quinn Madden has a farm south of Dunvegan,
and I think this is Anna Webber’s sheep operation to the southeast.
Both of them are linked by a sizeable stream.”
“I want two members of the Pack on each
of those places. I want them watched around the clock,” said
Jessie. “Make sure one of you has strong mindspeech abilities so
you can get a message to me if you spot Bernard. If necessary, get
out your damn cell phone and call me, so I can mobilize the Pack.
But don’t engage him on your own.”
Culley glanced back at his brother.
Devlin was standing silently, staring at the map with his finger on
the fourth red square. “What it is, bro?”
“Connor’s place. This one is
Connor’s.”