by Cathy Clamp
She nodded. “Are you certain he still wishes this? Perhaps he saw the pain, the damage it caused, and now wishes for peace.”
Tristan stared into her large brown eyes, filled with flecks of golden fire, and asked one question: “Then why anger?”
Anica frowned, her scent thoughtful. “I must think of this while we check on Williams femily.” She reached forward and knocked on the door, very real worry filling the air between them like a cloud.
Muted footsteps sounded on the wood floor inside, and when the door opened it was the young man Denis. He shrugged one shoulder, almost embarrassed, and glanced down at his feet. Tristan hadn’t noticed it before, but the teen was attracted to Anica, but too shy to say anything. A little part of him was amused, but a larger part wasn’t. The boy could be a distraction he didn’t need. He let out a small cough and then looked up, his eyes only on Anica. “Hey, you’re back. What’s up?”
“Are you okay?” Concern was plain in her face and scent. But the boy wouldn’t know about the scent. He was full human.
But she would be able to smell his confusion. “Yeah. Why?”
“We—”
Tristan stepped forward, put an arm around her, effectively taking over the conversation. Denis began to frown. “We saw something hit the house. It was pretty big and we wanted to make sure everyone was okay.” It was more or less the truth.
Denis shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. But Tristan didn’t believe it for a second. “I didn’t hear anything and I’ve been right here.”
“Could you get your folks?”
The boy’s lips tightened into a thin line. There was nothing worse than being reminded of parents when trying to impress a girl.
Anica nodded, oblivious to the clues Tristan was seeing. “Yes, please. I worry for them.”
At her serious tone, Denis began to grow concerned. “Hang on.”
Moments later, Tristan was showing John Williams where the object had hit the wall. “Good lord, would you look at that?” The flashlight revealed that there were deep cracks in the wood where their bodies had struck. Following the now-concerned Williamses inside, they climbed the stairs to the second floor.
Asylin Williams turned on the light to an empty bedroom. Two of the heavy pine logs were pushed inward, crushing the headboard into splinters. An outside breeze pushed past the grout that had sealed the space between the two logs. She touched her husband’s arm, her fingers clutching the woolen sweater arm tight. “Oh, John! What could have done this sort of damage? Thank God Dani is away at college.” She turned her head to explain, “This is my daughter’s room. She always studies in bed. She’s not a strong alpha. She could have been crushed.”
Anica fidgeted, feeling guilty. He could sense it. But the guilt smelled very much like worry. It was likely the others wouldn’t notice the difference. “I am glad you are safe.”
Asylin released her husband’s arm and wrapped Anica in her arms, so suddenly the young woman barely had time to react. Asylin was tall and the motherly concern bleeding from her pores made Anica sniffle and hug her tightly in return. The Williams matriarch kissed her hair. “I’m glad you are too. You could both have been killed by whatever that was. We’re lucky it hit the house instead of you two. Things can be replaced. People can’t.” She let her go and ruffled her hair. “You should get home, Anica. Your father is going to be worried.” She turned to address him. “You’re welcome to stay here, young man. We always have room for visitors.”
Tristan wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to be surrounded by more people. They were just cannon fodder to Lagash. “I appreciate the offer. I might take you up on it.” Might. Not will. “Let me get Anica home first.”
Anica looked over at him. “Can you walk me to Rachel’s apartment instead? I need to pick up my purse.”
It was a good lie, if it was one. A purse was often an extension of a woman, like a wallet for a man. It was one of those items that people didn’t willingly leave for long periods in the possession of another person—no matter how trusted. He nodded. “Of course. It’s not far.”
They started to walk together, the night feeling colder than it had just moments before. Tristan could feel her tension and could sense that she wanted to ask something. “Go ahead.”
“Those people, from your memory. What became of them?”
He sighed. He’d wondered the same thing and visited Nineveh a few years after, when the riots started. “The parents didn’t survive the change, nor did the daughter. The son did. He became a lesser lion and eventually moved back to Nineveh with a mate.” She nodded silently, her scent sad and angry. It might well have been the end of a sad story, but what eventually happened cheered him a little. “The boy drove the snakes from his city and successfully pulled away from the empire. Sargon could see the writing on the wall. That’s about the time he chose to ‘die’ and move away, leaving the eventual total defeat of his empire to his children’s legacy.”
She nodded her head, just once, and smelled … wasn’t that the strangest thing? She was right. Pride really did smell like a cheese blintz with fruit and cloves. “That is good. Even the little ones can become great.”
As they neared the house where Anica lived with her father, they saw Zarko leaving the house. Anica pulled Tristan behind a nearby tree and put a finger to her lips. “Papa is leaving. I don’t have to go to Rachel’s room if I can shower here. Clothing is Rachel’s, but I will wash and return to her later.”
When Zarko got in his ATV and started the engine, Anica tucked herself closer to Tristan to blend into the forest. The warmth of her body seemed to seep into him and push away the growing chill of the night. Her scent of sunshine and warm soil blended nicely with the thick pine needles underfoot, turning the darkness into day in his nose. If Zarko smelled them hiding there as he drove by, he gave no sign, which seemed amazing. How could anyone not be able to smell Anica a mile away?
“What about your purse?” He whispered the words, because he was fairly certain that the Alpha of the town could hear them if he tried … even from a distance.
Anica waved that off with a quiet puff of air from her lips and rolled eyes. “Pfft. I do not own purse. Mrs. Williams is nice, but she fusses. Even more than Mama. I do not wish to live there, even for one night.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “You don’t like people fussing over you?”
“No. I like to do fussing,” she said, her scent mingled with frustration and pride. “It make me happy to cook for femily, or make pretty things to surprise them.” She paused. “Do you like people fussing?”
Ris tried to recall a time when someone had fussed over him. It was so long ago, it was just a distant memory. “Nobody ever has, so I don’t know. I don’t think I would.”
“I understand.” She waited for a long moment, until they could no longer see the taillights of the little cart; then she tapped his arm. “We go now. Quickly.”
Her version of “quickly” made him smile. It was nothing more than a trot across the dirt road in front of the home. “Thank you for walking me to house.” She started up the steps.
“Let me know right away if you see Lagash again. I’ll try to track him down in the meantime.” She turned to face him and he realized they were eye to eye. He put a forefinger to her forehead. “Call me here. It’ll be faster.”
She nodded, then surprised him by putting her hands on either side of his face and kissing him. His body responded so strongly he could barely breathe past the waves of sensation rushing across his skin. Her lips were full and rich and the taste of her was like rolling in the grass under a hot sun. Which was exactly what he wanted to be doing with her.
The sensations sucked him under, as though falling into deep water, and he suddenly realized he’d pulled her tight against him once more. His mouth was sliding down the side of her neck, tasting her, while she clutched at his back and made small, plaintive noises that urged him on. His own hands were under the oversized top, gliding across
her taut back muscles. When he shifted one foot, he became aware he was erect, almost painfully so. The throb of his need made him pull back harshly before he completely lost his mind. Her face was slack, her large eyes dark with the same need. “I do not have to shower alone—”
Tempting. So very tempting. “That would be a bad idea.”
She nodded, her fingers playing with the back of his neck, kneading gently. “Yes, but sometimes bad ideas are fun.”
It made him laugh, a deep chuckle that told her he agreed. But he still pulled away and she smiled too, teasing. “Your father could come back at any moment.”
“True.” A sigh slid out of her lips and she ran a finger down the front of his shirt. “A pity.”
Yes. It was. “Go. Shower. A cold one, and I’ll do the same. And remember … watch for him and let me know if you see or smell him. Anywhere in town.”
“I will. Please … you will be careful?”
He stepped back, leaving her on the steps. “I wouldn’t still be alive if I wasn’t.”
The farther away from the house he walked, the easier it became to walk at all. He didn’t know what it was about her that was making him so distracted, but he had to avoid her or he wasn’t going to be able to function.
A swim was what he needed right now—that always helped clear his mind. He quickly ran, using the real definition of “quickly,” to the little crescent lake, took off his clothes, and dove into the water, welcoming the cold shock as he submerged. He let his body shift into his true form: a krait. It wasn’t the only form he could take, or appear to take, but it was his natural form. He swam smoothly, letting his eyes and body adjust to the temperature. The water seemed to get warmer as his heartbeat slowed. As he swam deeper, the pressure against his skin eased the tension in his muscles. Fish didn’t turn out of his path, not even recognizing him as a predator.
His serpent body acclimated even more, until the cold lake felt almost like bathwater, allowing him to swim easily … all of the aches soothing away as he glided around, exploring the debris scattered around the bottom. Mostly logs, but a few seemed to have been sunk intentionally, as fish habitats—barrels open on both sides, with the openings covered with narrow panel fencing. Small fish could get inside for protection, but the larger fish couldn’t. He counted four—no, five such barrels, along with some concrete blocks that were covered with a variety of underwater vegetation.
As he swam around one of the blocks, he became aware of a scent similar to mint. No, it was definitely mint … a mix of peppermint and spearmint. He tried to decide what could cause the scent this close to the bottom of the lake but couldn’t find anything that would account for it. He’d have to chat with Bobby and have him come swimming with him. His tongue was better trained to identify chemicals. Tristan couldn’t think of anything hazardous that smelled of mint and none of the fish appeared to be avoiding any area. He flicked his tail hard to catch up to a large trout that seemed to be circling the area, looking for an easy lunch. No, it wasn’t a trout. It was a salmon. While it seemed perfectly at home in the lake, it couldn’t be native.
Then he thought of the bears in the area, and it made sense. Given the option, the residents probably preferred salmon to trout. The salmon stopped in the water, then stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. Probably trying to decide if I could be dinner. It allowed Tristan to get a good look at it. The eyes were clear, the scales even and shiny. Other than a few battle scars, it was a good specimen. He threw out a small push of magic to spook it and watched as it flipped its tail and swam away in the flurry of bubbles.
Should have eaten it, he thought, though he didn’t particularly care for salmon.
The mint scent was increasing. He needed to get out of the area before it gave him a headache. It wasn’t a large lake, but it was big enough to get some exercise. Picking the supports for the pier as a goal in the far distance, he put on speed. He was barely out of breath when he reached the heavy pine logs, so he decided to circle the entire lake at the same speed, back to the same point again.
As the first barrel habitat went by in a blur at the corner of his vision, he heard Lagash’s voice again. You’ve passed right by me, several times. He couldn’t get past the taunt. Was it a lie? He hadn’t smelled any deceit, but he hadn’t been concentrating on scents. He’d been watching Lagash’s hands and feeling for his magic.
And yet … he hadn’t seen the magic coming that threw them a dozen feet into a wall. It had been like a freight train at full steam colliding with him.
He’d nearly reached the spot where he’d left his clothes when he felt a tap at his mind. A politeness by someone of high alpha level before they intruded to talk. He opened his senses, rising close to the surface to feel if it was Lagash. Of course, he wouldn’t have tapped. It would have been a full-out assault. But it was a man—Bobby.
Rising to the surface, he swam through the misty smoke that floated over the surface of the water toward shore. “Everything okay?”
Bobby squatted down in the muddy gravel, being careful to pull his pants up so they didn’t drag in the mud. “I should ask you that. I got a call from Zarko, who had gotten a call from John Williams. It seems there was a little altercation at their house. Two people-sized dents in the wall of the second story. I have to assume one of them was you, since I’ve asked most everyone else. Who caused the second dent?”
It wouldn’t do any good to lie to Bobby. His tongue was flicking so rapidly, he was probably smelling everything down to the level of mosquito pheromones in the air. But not answering wasn’t lying. “I was with Anica, asking Mrs. Williams to help you with the falcon.” Of course, Bobby already knew that part. “We talked to Mr. Williams for a few minutes. I asked him if he knew any single male alphas that didn’t seem to fit in here.”
Bobby’s face took on an amazed expression. “Wait. John Williams did that to you? Are you kidding me?! Who was the other person?”
Tristan let out a short laugh as he slithered onto shore. “No. Of course not.” He shifted forms, picked up his clothes from the grass, and shook them out.
Bobby reached forward and grabbed the shirt out of his grip, held it to his face, his tongue flicking fast, and then let out a bark of a laugh. “Ris, are you insane? You had sex with the Alpha’s daughter? Do you have a death wish? She’s barely an adult!”
He couldn’t meet the disapproving look on his longtime friend’s face. “No, I didn’t have sex with her. It was just a kiss. A mistake.”
Bobby held up the shirt. “This is not ‘just a kiss,’ Ris. There’s heavy shit in this fabric.” He threw the balled-up shirt at his chest. “You’re damned right it was a mistake. You need to burn these clothes and then go shower with some peppermint soap before Zarko comes hunting for you with a silver bullet.”
Peppermint. That reminded him. “I smelled peppermint a few minutes ago. Underwater. What would cause that?”
A low hiss rolled out of his mouth and his scent turned metallic. “Don’t change the subject. Leave the girl alone. Now, who did this and who was with you? Don’t make me pull rank on you.”
Tristan couldn’t help but laugh. But the sound was bitter, brittle. “While I’m normally happy to bow to your official position, this is different. You know why I’m here. I outrank you on my mission.”
He crossed his dark arms over his shirt, his movements short and impatient. “So, what? You’re saying Lagash threw you against the hou—” His voice stuttered to a stop with a gurgling in his throat. Tristan wasn’t positive he could make that noise again if he tried. Then the words dropped to an almost whisper. “You’re not saying that, are you?” The tone was a mixture of skepticism and horror.
Sitting down on the ground, he pulled on his shoes. “Not proud of it, but the blow came out of nowhere, Robart. And I was watching for him to make a move. That’s what hurts the most. Well, that and my lower back.”
“Ahmad was right? What are the odds?” Bobby sat down, and Tristan wasn’t sure it was ent
irely voluntary. “Ur-Lagash, in modern-day America.” He picked up a nearby rock and threw it, hard. It landed in the water with a small splash halfway across the lake. “And you and Amber didn’t chase him because…?”
“First, I was remembering how to breathe. Wait. You said ‘Amber.’ No, it was Anica.”
Bobby’s head snapped to stare at him so fast that Tristan heard his joints pop. “Anica? Holy hell! Where did you bury the body? We need to get our stories straight fast, before Zarko starts asking questions.”
Spinning around to rise to his knees, Tristan brushed the dirt and sand off his pants before standing up. “There is no body. She’s fine. I took her home. I shared a memory with her from Akede so she knows what he’s capable of. Plus, she knows his scent now and she can talk to me mentally. If he comes anywhere near her, I’ll know.”
Bobby was staring at his lap, his chest moving in near-silent laughter. The scent of citrus flooded Tristan’s senses. “What are you laughing about?”
“I’ve got to call Asri. She’s going to laugh her ass off.”
Asri had no sense of humor that Tristan knew of. Like him, she was Indonesian, a Komodo Dragon who was the enforcer of the Chicago wolf pack. She lived to punish, maim, and kill at the whim of the Alpha there, Nikoli Molotov. She loved her job. “Care to share the joke?”
Bobby looked up and his face was the picture of sunny good humor. “The joke is you, old friend. And it’s even funnier that you don’t know why.”
He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or angry, but Bobby was acting very out of character. “Apparently not. I just told you Lagash is in Luna Lake and nearly killed me and one of the locals. Dying is funny to you?”
“No. Not at all. It’s the nearly part that’s funny. Ris … Anica is a three-day. She can’t even shift on her own on the moon. Don’t you remember us discussing that just a few hours ago?”
“Sure. And…?”
The answering sigh was deep and apparently supposed to be meaningful, but Tristan still wasn’t getting the point. “Ris. We’ve been friends for more than a century. I know you cut yourself off from the rest of our kind, but surely you remember a little about lesser Sazi, don’t you?”