by Cathy Clamp
“Hey! I can see the light!” Scott’s voice was excited, but then he coughed. “Little hard to breathe, though.”
Scott wasn’t the only one struggling to breathe. Tristan was starting to think he should have backed in. He could hold his breath well, but the rock was squeezing the air out of him.
The flashlight got stuck, jarring Tristan to a halt.
Oh, this isn’t good. He wasn’t positive he could back up at this point.
“You’re through,” Scott said, sounding more tired than he had just seconds before. “I can see the flashlight. But there’s a sliver of rock in the way. You’ll have to break it to get it through.”
Tristan’s mouth was dry and sore from being held open so long; it wasn’t easy to release his grip on the flashlight and it took a moment before he could speak. “You’ll have to grab it from your side and pull it through. It’s too narrow in here for me to get any leverage.”
“I don’t know that I can reach it, but I’ll try.” Tristan heard a fluttering and talons scratching ahead of him. A second later, the flashlight flew backward and cracked him right between the eyes. Both his head and the torch bounced off the roof of the crevice, showering his face and eyes with a shower of rock dust. Blinking rapidly, he let out a swear and spit dirt until his mouth was clear. Right now it would be good to have fingers.
“Shit!” Scott said. “I’m sorry. I missed. Push it forward and I’ll try again.”
Sighing, Tristan moved the flashlight back into position.
It took two more tries, and a guaranteed black eye later, before Scott was able to catch the front of the flashlight and yank it through the hole, breaking off a chunk of rock in the process. Now that he had a light to shoot for, Tristan began to ease through the hole.
Scott didn’t exactly react to him with a hero’s welcome. “What the hell!? A snake!” He began to beat at Tristan’s head with his good wing and bite at his back with his beak. “Shit, shit, shit! Get out!”
“For God’s sake, Scott, stop!” Tristan threw out a wave of magic that froze the owl in place. If Scott closed those claws around Tristan’s body, it wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt. The owl’s eyes were wide and panicked in the light from the flashlight at his feet. “I’m Tristan. Okay?” He released just a bit of the magic so the owl’s head could move.
“But you’re a bear.”
“Or not,” he replied as he slid the rest of his body into the tight space. Air flooded through behind him and he took a grateful breath. Scott was right that it was tight quarters. It was a narrow space, but at least there was a tall ceiling. He moved around to where he could get a good look at Scott’s wing.
Scott’s head vibrated and his breathing was fast, nearly hyperventilating as Tristan moved his body to where he could see. “Dude, your slithering is seriously creepy. I have nightmares about shit like this. Couldn’t even finish watching Snakes on a Plane on video.”
“Suck it up … dude.” He said it around the flashlight, so the sarcasm wasn’t quite as effective as he’d like. But the owl got it, letting out an annoyed sound that was close to a hoot, but too human for the proper regalness. “I’m trying to get you out of here.” Locating a nearly flat rock, Tristan positioned the flashlight so it shined on the trapped wing. The rock pinning Scott in place wasn’t all that big, but it was tightly jammed among a dozen others.
He agreed with Scott that pulling out the injured arm could collapse the whole area. The wing was sideways and Scott’s collarbone was probably dislocated. That he hadn’t mentioned the pain was a little surprising. Tristan nosed gently around the wing, confirming that it was solidly trapped all the way up to the bone. Grabbing one of the feathers with his mouth, he tried to pull it out from underneath. No luck. But he wondered if the reverse was true. He decided to treat it like a joke, to lighten the mood a little. “Hey, I’m not familiar enough with bird shifters. If I pull your feathers out of your wing, will you have fingers when you shift?”
“Don’t even fucking joke about that!” The outrage in the owl’s voice was answer enough. Tristan let out a little hissing snicker. In the next moment, the fear in Scott’s scent decreased a little, replaced by anger. “You know I’ll have fingers, but it would rip out my fingernails. Amber was right. You are an asshole.”
“So I’m told. But I’m what you’ve got, so have a little respect.”
The owl took a deep breath; Tristan could tell his heart was beating a mile a minute. “Could you please loosen your magic? I’ve got a little phobia about being held. Bad memories of the old alphas doing sick stuff to me back when I was the Omega. I don’t want to combine that with my existing snake phobia, if it’s okay.”
Scott was an omega? How was that possible? After all, he was in owl form more than a week before the full moon. “Did someone shift you today?”
He bobbed his head several times. “Bojan. We had a fight earlier today. He was apologizing by shifting me so I could ride the heat currents as the fire passed. It was stupid, I know, but I’ve never flown in the daytime before. Rachel said it was amazing and I thought, with the rising hot air, I could fly really high. Then the fire shifted and we had to take cover. I’m not sure how the cave-in happened.”
“Sorry,” Tristan said. “I didn’t know about your phobia. I’ll lighten up, but you have to try not to freak out, okay?”
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll stay calm.”
Tristan released Scott and pulled his power inside him. It was like holding his breath, but down deep in his stomach. “Is that better?”
Scott took a deep breath, his beak as close to the entry hole as he could manage. “It’ll do for now. But I’ll be glad to get out of here. You do have a plan, right?”
Drawing a deep breath of his own, Tristan looked around the small space, searching for options. “Not yet, but I’m working on one. You might want to close your eyes. To avoid future nightmares.”
The owl turned his head sharply, to where he was nearly looking down at his own tail feathers. “Just let me know when I can look again.”
Tristan began to climb the walls of the space, once again carrying the flashlight in his mouth. About two feet up, he found a second, larger opening. The owl would have to crouch, but he might be able to wiggle out if the opening led to the outside. It seemed unlikely—Tristan hadn’t seen any sign of a second exit and there was no flow of air, so he’d have to follow it to see where it led. He called down to Scott, letting him know, and ended by asking, “You gonna be okay if I leave?”
“Yeah. Just make sure you come back.” His voice was a little shaky, but Tristan got it. Dying alone, trapped in a cave, would be a bad way to go.
The flashlight only lit up the opening to the first turn, if it was a turn at all. Only one way to find out. He took a deep breath and slithered into the hole.
CHAPTER 17
Anica sat on the ground next to Bojan, waiting. Tristan had blocked himself off so thoroughly that she couldn’t feel him at all, and despite what Tristan had said, Bobby had gone to get Amber himself. The cell phones weren’t working. No signal at all and he couldn’t reach her telepathically. That worried him, so he’d gone to make sure she was okay. Anica was more concerned about Scott and Tristan.
“Why did you come to the forest during a fire, Brother? You could have been killed.”
“I could ask the same thing of you, Sister.” He used his shirt to wipe off most of the black from his face and snorted out gobs of dark-stained mucus from his nose. “Two men now you are involved with?”
She snorted too, but not from the ash. “Not even one. He is a snake, Bojan. A snake is mated to me. I have no wish to be involved with him. He lied to me, more than once. Snakes cannot be trusted.”
Bojan turned to look at her, alarm plain in his face and scent. “Then can he be trusted to help Scott?”
Anica sighed and sat down on the ground near a tree that was spared by the fire. “Yes, he can be trusted to help Scott. He is, I think, a good man. But he is a snak
e. And he lies.”
Bojan looked at her with an odd expression. “He is snake, and he lies, but is a good man? You make no sense, Anica.”
It didn’t make any sense to her either. “He is a good man, when he is a man. And perhaps when he is bear, he is also good.”
“Ohhhh,” her brother said with a lilt to the word that said he thought he understood but probably didn’t. “So snakes are simply evil? All snakes, everywhere … because of the few who hurt you. Is that right?” She didn’t answer, so he prodded further. “What if you had turned snake, instead of bear, in attacks? Both bit you. Would that form on the full moon change your brain … your heart to be evil too?”
She blew out a harsh breath and stared at the ground. “Don’t be stupid. Of course not.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Just checking.” Walking to the crevice in the rockfall, he called, “Scott? You are okay?”
Eventually a soft reply came: “Yeah. My wing really hurts, though.”
Bojan closed his eyes and put his hand on the rock next to the crevice. Emotions filled his scent and Anica had to work to separate the smells. There is fear, and sorrow, guilt and anger and—a smell she hadn’t smelled from him before. It was one she recognized. Just not from Bojan. Cinnamon and sugar and nutmeg. Cookie spices. “It will be fine,” he whispered, his head pressed against the rock. Then he repeated, louder, so Scott could hear, “It will be fine. We’ll get you out of there.”
“Bojan?” Her brother froze at the suspicious tone in her voice but didn’t turn his head. “How is Scott in owl form? You say at Paula’s home you are not able to change me. How can you change Scott? He has been this pack’s Omega, like I am ours.”
Bojan shook his head. “I do not know. Scott asked weeks ago if I could shift him so he could fly at night. He likes to fly when he doesn’t have to … you know, to hunt. He doesn’t like to hunt, but must. His bird insists, like my bear does. I tried, and I could change him. I was surprised how it was easy.” Turning to face her, he leaned back against the stone and wrapped his arms around himself. He smiled softly, looking up at the sky, a bright azure blue through the smoke.
“Today, he is angry with me for hitting him. We yelled much in truck when we were leaving town. When the truck stopped to turn onto the main road, he jumped out and ran. I followed, telling him not to be stupid. Then he shifted and flew, without me changing him. I do not know how. Soon we are trapped by flames and must run to the caves.”
“How are you not trapped too?”
He shook his head, the scent of guilt and shame overpowering even the smoke in the air.
“Bojan…” She had to voice the same question that Bobby had: “Did you intend to trap him?”
His sudden anger, the strength of it, surprised her. “No! Anica, I would never…” He paused and then sighed. “We moved back into the cave as the fire passed. It was smoky, so we went deeper to where the air was clear. We talked instead of yelling, trying to find if we could still be friends. While we talk, he shifted back to human.” He paused again, uncomfortable, looking at everything except her. “I am not thinking when he does that he will be naked. I was … attracted.”
She abruptly understood. “Oh.”
“He knows that I am, and kisses me again before I can think. I panicked, pulled away before I … before we can—” He cleared his throat. “I tried to leave cave, but he followed, grabbed my arm. I shifted him back to owl so I do not have to look at him that way. That is when I hear rumbling.
“I grab his wing to pull him out, but he is angry for me shifting him. He pushes me away very hard and then falling rock separates us.” Bojan fell silent for a moment, looking at the sky. “He likes to fly. When he flies very high, so high I can barely see him in the night sky, he feels powerful. Not like an omega. It makes him happy.”
“You like it when he is happy, yes?” Bojan might not be at peace with himself, but he was at least not angry with Scott anymore.
He tilted his head and then shrugged. “Of course. That is what friends do.” Anica knew it was more than friendship between her brother and Scott. She wasn’t sure Bojan would let himself realize it.
A crunching of charred branches caught her attention. She was expecting Bobby or Amber but found herself looking at an old man in a red plaid wool shirt and tattered worker pants. Heavy canvas, like the men back home wore. He was smiling at her, but not with the smile of a friend. She’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.
“Hello,” she said, trying to keep her tone neutral as she got to her feet. Flaring her nostrils brought a shock of recognition. He made the footprints! The footprints that had followed Tristan two days ago.
“Hello, Anica.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Have we met?”
That smile again, filled with menace, and age. Not just the age that went with his gray hair and stooped body, but time that spanned centuries. She knew the smile from last night and from Tristan’s mind, in the stone building. “Not formally. But I know who you are. I know what you are.”
Anica moved closer to Bojan, carefully. She took his arm, digging her nails into his skin to keep him still, and quiet. The man was Lagash. Whatever his form now, she knew that. Her brother read her scent and didn’t try to puff his chest like Samit would have.
With a press of thought, she tried to reach Tristan in her mind, but he was blocking her. She was no match for Lagash, nor was Bojan. Cannon fodder, Tristan had said, and now his words made sense. Her muscles began to tremble as she was gripped by a sort of fear she’d never felt before. Even stronger than when she’d been in the caves, before the bears attacked—because it was not just her, but her brother and the others she feared for. It numbed her, robbed her of the ability to think. But she had to—had to think, had to protect herself and her brother, somehow. “Amber is coming, and Bobby. You can’t defeat them both.”
He put frail, wrinkled hands on his hips, amused. The hands were a lie, like Tristan’s bear. His real form was what she saw last night, when his muscles were thick and powerful and magic had radiated from him in a stinging cloud. She knew he was only showing a fraction of his true magic now. “A Monier and a Mbutu. A good challenge but, really, sparring partners only. Not a real fight.”
“Why bother me, or my brother? Why try to kill us? We can’t possibly be a threat to you.”
But maybe she could be. Anica concentrated on gathering as much scent as she could. She smelled mint … no, not mint. The medicine Mama used to put on Bojan’s chest when he was sick and couldn’t breathe well. Menthol! The strong scent covered many others. She started to take small snuffles, like she did in her animal form, coaxing the layers apart. Pine was next, but not real pine—the pine of cheap green trees that her teacher in primary school had hung from his car mirror. Another layer, another scent. The railroad tie smell. What had Tristan called it? Oh, yes … creosote! She pulled in the scents as quickly as she could, hoping that maybe if they were killed at least there would be enough evidence to bring him to justice. The final scent was right next to his skin, a lingering memory of a real scent. It was the perfume of the lady snake. Should she make that bluff? Was it worth the risk to let him know she might actually be a threat?
“Maybe it is Enheduanna who thinks we are a threat?”
He smiled, bright enough to make her think the teeth were store-bought, like Grandfather’s, but she knew better and her chest hurt with the knowledge, with the memory of flying through the air and hitting a house hard enough to shatter her bones. “A three-day baby bear and her man-loving brother. It seemed unlikely to me too. Yet she’s never been wrong before.” He shook his head, the smile no less dangerous, but more amused now. “Facing you without Ris Tupo at your side, though, I think perhaps she was wrong.”
He turned to leave. Relief surged through her; she gasped for air as her legs went rubbery under her.
Then Lagash said, “But why take the risk?”
Her enemy turned with a speed and elegance that didn’t
match his human form. She pulled Bojan down and to the side as Lagash threw power at them in a wave that should have killed them both, squashing them into tiny bug puddles. The magic struck the rock; an instant later, a great rumbling began deep in the ground, like when she was underwater.
Panic and pain surged through Anica’s mind as Bojan screamed, “Scott!”
The rumbling continued as the old man put a hand next to his mouth and mock-whispered, “I wasn’t aiming for you, little girl. So much more fun to kill your mates. Two at once … a good day for the bad guys.”
He raised his hand again. There was a flash of light.
Then blackness.
CHAPTER 18
Fear clawed at Tristan’s stomach. Anica was terrified, in horrible danger. She’d tried to reach him, but he’d shut her out. Now he couldn’t reach her at all.
Whatever had shaken the mountain made rocks rain down on him. One particularly large stone landed on the flashlight, breaking the bulb and trapping the tip of his nose, though not for long. He needed to find out what had happened outside. There was barely enough room to slither past the new rock, but he managed to squeeze through, back to the main, but now much more narrow, corridor.
Anica? He opened his mind, but she wasn’t there. He felt his heart pound. He needed to get out now. It was a tight fit, but he managed to turn around and start back to Scott.
“Tristan! Hey, Tristan, you okay?” He could feel the other man’s excitement as he negotiated the now-rock-strewn path. More sharp stones cut through his scales, but that didn’t matter right now. “Hey! I can see light. Is that you?”
“No, it’s not. The flashlight is toast. Where do you see the light?”
“In the same direction you went. But it’s faint.”
Tristan blinked. It did seem lighter in the tunnel—he could see individual rocks and feel air flowing. Damned if the explosion, whatever it was, hadn’t opened a new rift. “You’re right. There’s a new way out.”