Guardian's Mate

by Jennifer Ashley

  A soft touch broke through the whirling mess. Rae had risen silently and now stood against him where he sat in the captain’s chair. Her thigh pressed his, and she closed her fingers around his hand.

  Rae didn’t speak, she only looked into Zander’s eyes, but her touch and gaze sent her message to him clearly.

  It’s all right. I’m with you.

  Or maybe that was what Zander wanted her to say. He understood that she, a Guardian, felt the death too.

  Ghosts didn’t exist, no matter what all those people on television who tracked them believed. Auras lingered, it was true, grief and violence leaving its mark.

  No matter, Rae’s touch eased the clamor in Zander’s head, and he readjusted the boat against their drift.

  Now to wait. They had only to sit here until those on the other craft grew tired of looking for them. Zander was pretty sure their fears would win over their need to capture a couple of Shifters, and they’d turn around, getting out while they could. Not long now . . .

  Bright light blazed abruptly into the ship boneyard, lighting up the fog. Water droplets glittered around the boat and on the black rocks that jutted into the sea. The dead in the ships seemed to whisper and stir.

  A man’s voice, calm and detached, spoke through a loudspeaker. “Surrender to me or I will blow everything in my path out of the water.”

  Ezra got to his feet, silence moot. “Who is this guy?”

  Good question. Zander squeezed Rae’s hand and rose. “I’ll talk to him. Piotr.” He gave his friend a nod. Piotr understood—Rae’s safety was his priority.

  Piotr and Ezra were peering into the light, trying to see, both of them unnerved. Zander rummaged in a cupboard, brought out a bullhorn, hoped it worked, and stepped out on deck.

  He clicked it on. “What do you want?” he asked, contriving to make his voice shaky and elderly sounding. “We were only trying to bring in a catch.”

  Silence. The boat’s floodlight was so strong Zander could see nothing behind it. The comforting thought was that the fog was so thick that, in spite of the light, the other guy probably couldn’t see him either.

  Zander heard another click. Not a bullhorn, he realized too late.

  A small missile came out of the fog, right at him. Zander tried to duck but it hit him and sank deep into his side.

  Not a bullet, a tranq dart. The man had shot, probably using a rifle with a heat scope. No visual necessary.

  “You bastard,” Zander managed to say before the deck rushed up at him and he fell like a sack of wet cement.

  * * *

  Ezra tried to push Rae toward the lifeboats. “Piotr, take her.”

  “No way in hell!” Rae yelled.

  She twisted from him and ran to where Zander lay face down on the deck, a tranquilizer dart in his side. Rae yanked out the dart and quickly tossed it overboard.

  “Is he mad?” Piotr peered into the fog as the second boat loomed. “He will ram us and both boats will go down.”

  “Help me.” Rae tugged at Zander’s weight. “We’ll go in the life raft. Hurry.”

  Another shot, this one from a gun with bullets. Rae squealed and dropped flat, Ezra and Piotr slamming themselves down as well.

  Piotr crawled on his belly over to Rae. “Yes, we will go in the raft. We will be more maneuverable and can escape.”

  “Escape to what?” Ezra snapped in an irritated whisper. “Straight into the arms of the Coast Guard?”

  “You have better idea?” Piotr asked.

  “No,” Ezra grumbled. “Let’s get him over there.”

  The boat rocked sharply, bumped by the other craft. The other boat was so well guided that the two vessels only lightly touched, the second boat gliding a few feet back after the tap.

  A man stood in the bow with a large rifle with a scope, which he pointed at Ezra. “You’re under arrest, Shifter,” he said, his voice cold and clear.

  “Leave them alone,” Rae shouted at him. “They’re not hurting anyone.”

  “They’re rogue Shifters,” the man replied. “Illegal and dangerous. Step away from them and you won’t get hurt.”

  He made a curt signal behind him. Two other men came forward on the foggy deck, also carrying weapons.

  There had to be someone manning the tiller—so much for outnumbering the crew. With Zander out and the men having guns, Rae and Ezra going Shifter and fighting might only get them all, including Piotr, killed.

  “What do you want to do?” Piotr whispered to Rae.

  Rae thought rapidly. If they could get over to the other boat, see how many they were up against, and maybe disable whoever they were, they might be able to take over that boat and sail it out. Once Zander woke up, their odds would be even better of surviving. Then they’d have to figure out what to do with whoever they captured and get away somewhere in the world where they wouldn’t be found and arrested.

  Sure. Easy. Rae wasn’t a military strategist. She was a Shifter Lupine, whose most difficult decision up until the Choosing was whether she’d go to a Shifter bar with her girlfriends or out camping with her brothers.

  Now she was a Guardian, being chased by Shifter hunters in the middle of a weird island, in a part of the world she didn’t know. Both Ezra and Piotr were looking at her, waiting for her decision.

  Ezra wasn’t dominant, the realization hit Rae with a bang. Rae was Guardian—no longer bottom of the pack. She was now in that ambiguous place just below leader, like Daragh had been.

  What would Daragh do?

  Rae had no idea. She had the feeling Daragh wouldn’t have put himself into this situation in the first place. Rae had no idea what her father would do either . . .

  Not true. Eoin would sacrifice himself so the others could get away and then work to escape on his own. But that didn’t seem to be an option here.

  What would Zander do?

  That answer came a bit more readily.

  Rae screamed like a frightened cub and flung her hands in the air. “Please don’t shoot me!” she cried. “I had to do what they said.”

  She sank to her knees, her back to the other boat, bowing her head and trying to look as submissive as possible. She felt Ezra’s glare and hoped like hell he’d catch on.

  While her body shielded what she did, Rae quickly removed the top half of the sword and tucked it inside her jacket, then folded the leather sheath over the bottom half and tucked it into the other side of the jacket. She’d borrowed the jacket from Zander, so it was huge and easily accommodated the pieces. Or maybe the pieces wanted her to hide them.

  She zipped up and looked behind her, still acting fearful, which wasn’t entirely an act.

  The leader on the boat made another signal to his men. “Take them. Put the girl inside, the Russian below.”

  His two men moved to the rail. The two boats drifted closer together but the pilot must be talented, because the hulls didn’t touch.

  The men leapt easily from their deck to Zander’s. One man pointed his gun at Ezra’s head, the other gestured Piotr and Rae to move ahead of him to the other boat.

  Rae deliberately didn’t look back at Zander as she went, but fear gnawed her. If they dropped him overboard in his tranqued state, he’d drown.

  The leader held out a hand to help Rae over the gunwale. His fingers were strong and callused, stronger than she thought a human’s would be. He had buzzed black hair and blue eyes with no warmth in them whatsoever.

  Rae’s jacket was zipped all the way up, her Collar hidden, but she ducked her head, still playing submissive, in case a gleam of Collar betrayed her.

  The man didn’t help Piotr, but Piotr, at home on boats, stepped onto the other vessel without losing his balance.

  The leader wrapped steely fingers around Rae’s arm and marched her toward the pilot house, whose door opened onto the side deck. This boat was a little bigger than Zander’s, though Rae didn’t know enough about boats to guess how large it was. It was longer and wider, was all she could tell, and had no stan
ds for fishing poles.

  She did see that this boat didn’t belong to the police or the Coast Guard. There were no official logos or symbols anywhere, which meant this man wasn’t connected to any law enforcement agency. He was a vigilante, she guessed, or a bounty hunter, which made him potentially more dangerous than the police or even Shifter Bureau.

  The men and women who hunted Shifters for bounty, or just for the hell of it, didn’t follow any rules but their own. If the hunted died before they could be brought in . . . oh well.

  The leader pushed Rae through the door to the pilot house. The dank coolness of the fog was cut off as he closed the door behind her, leaving her in a small stuffy room, poorly lit, smelling strongly of diesel and sulfur, which messed up her scenting ability.

  The large man at the boat’s wheel didn’t even glance her way, so intent was he on holding the boat steady. Rae noted immediately that he had a gun in a holster at his right hip.

  The pilot was large but not portly—muscles filled out his body, his bare arms tight and sporting tattoos of interlocked spirals. He had black skin, close-cropped black hair tinged with gray, and more gray in the whiskers trimmed against his face. His face itself was square-jawed, his dark eyes shrewd but not cruel. This man’s hardness was different from that of the leader—the pilot was honed from fighting, but he probably relaxed with friends after the fighting was over. Rae didn’t think the man outside ever relaxed.

  “Did those Shifters kidnap you?” the pilot asked.

  Rae nodded meekly. It was warm enough in here that she wished she could unzip the coat but she couldn’t with the sword and her Collar hidden inside. She folded her arms and lived with it.

  “Well, you’re safe now,” the pilot said. “Sit down over there.” He pointed to a bench built into the wall. “We’ll get you home.”

  He returned to peering nervously out at the fog and the wrecked boats too near them, his hands never leaving the wheel.

  “Who are you?” Rae asked, curiosity working through her fear.

  He didn’t look at her. “Name’s Miles. You all right?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  Rae craned to look past him. Ezra and Piotr were nowhere in sight—they must have been taken belowdecks already. The two flunkies were again on Zander’s boat, lifting Zander’s limp body between them. Zander hung lifelessly, big and heavy, but the two men managed to carry him across to this craft without dropping him.

  “Put them in the cages,” she heard the leader outside say. “Lock the doors tight and make sure the shock chains are secured around them.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Rae swallowed. “Does he have a cage strong enough for Shifters?” she asked the pilot in a timid voice.

  “Yeah. Don’t you worry, ma’am.” Miles sounded as though he wasn’t used to reassuring people. He didn’t know what to say, and he was more concerned with keeping the vessel afloat.

  “Who is he?” Rae asked.

  “Who is who?” Miles adjusted the wheel the slightest bit. “Oh, you mean Carson. Carson McCade. This is his boat.”

  “You work for him?”

  The big man shrugged. “I work with him. I get my cut. But don’t worry about the Shifters anymore. They’ll be taken where they won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  Rae thought about tranquilizers. The ones for Shifters were powerful and lasted a long time—Eoin occasionally had to use them to stop fights from getting out of hand. But there were Shifters, and then there were Shifters. Zander was bigger than most, being a bear, and a polar bear at that.

  Rae had heard of a Shifter in Texas, a tiger, who had to be shot with several rounds of tranqs before he’d even get sleepy. That Shifter was a little different from the others—he’d apparently been born in a lab, the result of experiments. Even so, Zander had gone down a bit too quickly.

  Rae also thought about cages. Ones for Shifters had to be specially reinforced because Shifters could kick their way out of anything. Shifter Bureau had cages laced with the same kind of chains as the Collars, to shock if the Shifter tried to break out. Carson’s words to his men told Rae he had cages on board specifically designed for Shifters and that Zander was being locked into one.

  With all that in mind, Rae calculated how long it would take Zander to get out of his cage and up on deck.

  Possibly not long. He’d need help though.

  Exactly how she’d overpower Miles, who was large, strong, and armed, and take over the wheelhouse, Rae had no idea. Before she could start thinking about what to do the man called Carson yanked open the door and strode inside.

  “Let’s get this thing turned around,” he snapped at Miles.

  “Easy for you to say.” Miles moved controls. The boat jumped a little then began to move smoothly backward.

  Carson opened a cabinet, removed the scope from his rifle, and carefully tucked the rifle and scope inside. He locked the cabinet with a key and slid the key into his pocket.

  He studied Rae a moment or two with his unnerving eyes, then moved to her. He, like Miles, wore a pistol in a holster.

  “What’s your name?” Carson asked her.

  “Rae.” Easier not to lie.

  “What were you doing to get yourself nabbed by Shifters, Rae? You from Homer?”

  “No.” Again, she had the feeling he’d easily spot a lie. “I was there visiting. I went to the bar.” Rae shrugged. “There was a fight and I got taken off with them.” Plausible and very close to what had happened.

  Carson’s eyes narrowed. They were lake blue, but that lake never had any sun on it.

  Carson suddenly reached out, grabbed the zipper of her jacket, and yanked it down. Rae squeaked and ducked her head, praying her shirt still hid the Collar.

  Carson was after something else. “You’ve got a weapon in there. What is that?” His hand went unerringly to the sword’s hilt and he yanked out the top half of the sword.

  Rae had the presence of mind to shake her head. “I don’t know. It’s broken but it looked interesting.”

  Carson studied the sword, bringing it close to his eyes to examine the silver, the runes. Rae was surprised he could hold it, but maybe it was different for humans, who seemed immune to Fae magic.

  “You stole this from them?” Carson demanded.

  A more difficult question. Rae wet her lips. “No one seemed to want it. It’s broken—it can’t be worth much.”

  “It’s silver.” Carson examined it again. “But the edge is sharp like steel. Weird.”

  He backed away with it, opened another cabinet, and tucked it inside. “It’ll stay safe in there,” he said, locking the cabinet with a key.

  “You’ll give it back to me, won’t you?” Rae asked, her worry not feigned. “I mean, I should get something for my trouble.”

  Carson only gave her a look of faint disgust. “Yeah, you’ll get it back.”

  He’d concluded she was a Shifter groupie, Rae saw. He thought she was a groupie hanging out with Zander and Ezra, who’d gotten more than she’d bargained for when they’d gone wild in the bar fight, and who’d stolen from them when they’d been caught.

  Fine with Rae. The man could despise her all he wanted, as long as her plan worked out. She didn’t really care what her captors thought of her.

  Carson studied her a few moments more, his gaze full of distrust, before he turned back to Miles.

  “Head for Anchorage. We’ll transfer them there.”

  Transfer them to what?

  Miles didn’t answer. He was too busy playing with controls and looking nervously around him. Carson eyed him as sharply as he’d eyed Rae, then he turned and left the wheelhouse.

  “I do not like this,” Miles said.

  The fog outside had thickened. As the boat backed, a fumarole, or whatever it was called, in the rocks beside them vented a sudden shaft of steam.

  Miles jerked the vessel away, but Rae yelled, “Look out!” as a black cliff loomed up on their other side.

  “Shit, shit, shit.
” Miles cranked the wheel and pulled levers. The rock drifted past the bow, inches from the hull.

  Rae left her seat and went to the wheel. Miles was sweating, droplets welling on his forehead and trickling down his temples, but he held the boat steady.

  As Rae peered out the windows, alert for more obstacles, she noticed what the thick smell of diesel and sulfur had masked. She sucked in a startled breath and looked up at Miles.

  Miles snapped his attention from the instruments to her, his eyes widening. If his scent had come to her, so hers had gone to him.

  “Aw, damn it.” Miles moved one hand from the wheel and grabbed at the neckline of her shirt.

  Rae tried to twist away, but too late. Miles yanked her shirt open at the neck, revealing the glint of her Collar.

  “You’re one of them,” Miles said, hand still on her shirt. “Man, oh man, oh man.”

  Rae jerked from his grasp. “You should talk. You’re one of them too.”

  “What?” Sweat trickled faster as Miles returned to steering the boat. “What are you talking about?”

  Did he really think Rae wouldn’t know? “You’re Shifter.” Rae stepped closer and inhaled. “Maybe not full blood. But you’re definitely Shifter.”

  Miles leaned to her, a sudden growl in his throat. “You keep that to yourself. Promise me, or I’ll tranq you myself, I swear.”

  Rae growled right back at him. “What are you doing hunting Shifters and letting them be put in cages? How can you justify that?”

  Miles’s mouth tightened. “I justify it when I see Shifters tearing up a town and leaving people dead. I justify it when they nearly kill the wife of a good man, turning him half crazy.”

  Rae’s lips parted. “Shifters don’t do that.”

  Miles snorted a laugh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, sugar. Shifters do do that. I’ve watched them. You get the rogue ones who escaped the rounding up and they let their frenzy or whatever they call it take over. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

  “Are you sure they were Shifter?” Rae asked, though with less confidence.