by RJ Blain
Assuming they weren’t moving the horses far, which was a possibility. Hopefully I could find out the full range of the thefts, otherwise I’d just be wasting my time. In truth, I probably was wasting my time, but it beat doing nothing at all.
Using a thumb tack, the string, and a pencil, I drew a light circle on the map with Charlotte as the center so I could narrow my search to possible places the thieves might have originated.
Hundreds of dead and dying cities fell within my determined radius. I grimaced, looked up from my work, and asked, “Can you get census data on city populations?”
Maybe I could narrow down the possibilities to cities and towns affected by lethal catastrophes from Starfall stone bursts.
Gentry spun in his chair to face me. “Why?”
I inhaled, staring at the map and the massive circle, which included a large chunk of the United States. “Let’s assume the horse thefts are connected to the Hope Diamond’s theft. Due to the thefts taking place east of the Mississippi, let’s also assume the thieves are from somewhere around the east coast. I’d say Charlotte, but if the goal was to transport the Hope Diamond, they might not be from around here. I’ve killed a lot of men and women wanting my horses since I crossed the river. If the attacks are so widespread, what would motivate so many people? They’re probably desperate and don’t have resources. If they had money, they’d buy horses. It’s a lot safer that way. In theory, assuming they’re moving the animals, they could have travelled the same distance I had reaching Charlotte—extra time allowed for inferior horses.”
The men stared at me, although only Anatoly smiled, his expression smug, as though he’d thought of something particularly clever and was waiting for the perfect moment to dazzle everyone with his brilliance. Todd leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed.
Silence reigned for several minutes before Gentry shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would anyone do that for a dead city? There aren’t a lot of decaying places left.”
“Fort Lauderdale,” I countered.
Anatoly sucked in a breath, and his eyes widened, but he didn’t speak.
“What about it?”
I hesitated at publicly speculating about something I knew so little about. “This likely isn’t the specific case but play along.”
“Go on.”
“If you walk through Fort Lauderdale from the south, there’s a line where the Starfall magic eradicated everything in its path. A woman stands there, her body made of ruby, lifeless but perfectly preserved. Cars remain on the streets, their drivers encased in red stone, frozen. It’s an instant snapshot of life. People are on the sidewalks, shopping, talking, walking with friends. What used to be stone, brick, and steel buildings are now crystal. Birds hang frozen in the air as though waiting for the moment they might beat their wings again.” I drew in a shaky breath. “What if the people who stole the Hope Diamond are the brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, sons, or daughters of those trapped within the crystal city? What if they’re friends, willing to risk it all for the chance to see their loved ones?”
Picking up the sheet of paper, I began to read, “Washington D.C., New York City, Miami, Fort Lauderdale—”
“You’ve made your point,” Dawnfire’s guild master stated, rising from his seat to head to the intercom. “I need a copy of the last pre-Starfall census and last year’s census, as well as an updated list of cities, towns, and districts deemed unsalvageable for the past two years. If anyone questions my request, have them escorted to my office.”
“Yes, sir,” a woman’s voice answered through the intercom.
Anatoly cleared his throat. “Why not look back as far as when the clans had their Starfall stones stolen? If we’re going to pretend the couriers and the Hope Diamond are connected, we may as well assume the weapon clans were targeted for the same reason.”
Muttering curses, Gentry stabbed the intercom’s button. “Get a list of cities wiped out or influenced by a Starfall burst and their population numbers dating up to two years prior to the weapon clan stone thefts.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gentry sighed and headed back to the conference table, dropping onto his seat with a groan. “I hate conspiracy theories.”
Todd’s laugh had a pained quality to it. “I hate when the conspiracy theories are more plausible than the crap we’ve been tossing around.”
“Were you following our discussion?” Anatoly leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table.
“I wasn’t.” I’d been so focused on the map I hadn’t heard a word any of them had said. “I was busy.”
“You looked busy.” Swinging his feet off the table, Anatoly hopped to his feet. The tiger shifter prowled close, leaning over Gentry’s desk to take a look at my work. He pointed at the tack still in the map, the string, and the circle I’d drawn. “What’s that?”
“I measured the distance of the route I took from the Mississippi to here, used that as a rough guess for potential range of the relay, making some assumptions. One of those assumptions is that the thieves wouldn’t want to relocate horses too far. I created a zone for potential destinations. In reality, this is pretty useless; all it does is show one possibility among many, unless only horses in one area were stolen.”
Anatoly shook his head. “Anything’s possible at this point, which is a large part of the problem. The thefts have been going on for months, which is plenty of time to move the animals anywhere they’re needed. How long did you say, Gentry?”
“Seven months.”
“They could set up a relay all the way to the west coast in seven months,” I muttered. With seven months to work with, all of my speculations went down the drain, essentially worthless.
“Exactly. We do know, roughly, how many horses have been stolen,” Dawnfire’s guild master admitted. “Would knowing help?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Almost four hundred animals.”
Taking a piece of string, I measured out the distance from Charlotte to the west coast. Humming, I worked the math in my head. “If they switched riders and ran the horses hard for one hour each without breaking the line, they’d be able to cross the entirety of the United States without stopping.”
Everyone stared at me in silence.
“How do you figure?” Gentry demanded.
I sighed. “Basic courier math. An hour-long courier leg is approximately ten miles. This is the distance an average courier horse can make with a rider and mail load. The distance from here to the west coast is approximately twenty-four hundred miles. That’s a little over six miles per horse. Let’s assume they’re using average horses on one-hour legs. Four hundred horses would give them extra mounts if one went lame, scattering a few extras here and there. Maybe two per relay station if they’ve been picking up extras legally. If they’re trying a cross-country run, however, the best courier horses would be their first picks. You might get as many as fifteen to twenty miles in an hour if you don’t care if the horse survives. If they have enough manpower to steal that many horses, they have enough people to ride the relay. They could field a rider every few hours and never have to break the line if they’re really prepared.”
The grizzly growled and turned to Todd. “Your thoughts, Todd?”
“I think Runs Against Wind knows her way around a horse.”
Anatoly’s fingers curled, reminding me of unsheathed claws. “She’s unavailable, stallion.”
“I’m pretty sure you aren’t the judge of that, kitty.”
Henry groaned and slumped over the table, covering his head with his arms. “Can we keep things civil, please? She’s a Siberian tigress who is still recovering her health. At current, Anatoly’s invested and incapable of being reasonable. With all due respect to your herd, of course.”
Todd grunted, shrugged, and waved his hand. “I was simply pointing out she has a say in whether or not she’s available.”
Sighing, the mystic flopped a hand in a feeble wave.
“I think he mistook your comment as a pass at her.”
If I hadn’t known years ago I’d never be a good match for Todd’s herd, I would’ve been insulted by the way he slapped his hand to his forehead and laughed. “Right. No, Anatoly. If I wanted to make a pass at her, it would be very obvious. I have no interest in competing with you over a woman. I’ll find something far better to yank your tail over when it’s convenient for both of us, which is not now.”
Anatoly sighed. “Of course. What was I thinking? Equines.”
With a single clearing of his throat, Gentry drew everyone’s attention to him. “So, what you’re basically telling us is that they could be taking the stone anywhere if the stolen horses are linked to the Hope Diamond’s theft.”
“Yes, sir,” I confirmed.
“So we’re right back to square one. We know nothing, we have no leads, and no way of locating the stone. It’s vanished without a trace. Now what?”
No one spoke a word; I stared at the map in search of answers. I found none.
It took three hours to get the information Gentry requested, and the grizzly dumped the stack of papers in front of me. “You came up with the idea. You get to figure out what to do with this.”
I sank onto Gentry’s chair and stared at three-inch tall stack. Arguing had filled the time waiting for the information, and as the minutes stretched on, the theories had grown more absurd.
Anatoly’s suggestion someone wanted to revive Washington or one of the other dead cities held promise. If any Starfall stone could reverse such devastation, it’d be the Hope Diamond. A few things bothered me, including the issue of the second Starfall stone bursting at my feet, and why anyone would want to kidnap me over it, assuming the stone was the reason they’d taken me.
Nothing made sense. I erased the circle I drew on the map, careful to avoid damaging the paper. Unlike most Starfall stones, the public was welcomed—encouraged—to touch the Hope Diamond; it wouldn’t burst unless someone handled it, someone who hadn’t handled it before.
“Is the Hope Diamond close to bursting?”
A chorus of snorts answered me, startling me into looking up from the map.
Anatoly propped his feet up on the table, leafing through a pile of papers stacked on his lap. He pulled out a page and waved it. “Here’s a list of the dates and times it has burst. Its last known burst was over eight years ago. It’s been pulsing for a little under seven years. There are records of it bursting once a month, then there are gaps of a few years. This is its longest stretch without bursting.”
“Any thoughts on why it hasn’t burst?”
Gentry leaned over and snatched the paper out of Anatoly’s hand, slapping it onto the table. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m of the opinion that’s why you were kidnapped; an unusual stone burst near you, so perhaps they wanted you to handle—and burst—the Hope Diamond.”
Of all the possibilities presented, that one made some form of sick sense. The closest I had gotten to the stone was the doorway in the National Archive before turning heel and running away from it. I dismissed the possibility of the stone having anything to do with me with a shake of my head. “That makes no sense.”
The grizzly turned in his chair and regarded me with narrowed eyes. “Have you ever touched the Hope Diamond?”
I shook my head.
“Been within five feet of it?”
I thought about the doorway in the National Archive, determined I hadn’t gotten within five feet of it, and shook my head again.
“Then the theory is sound. Steel Heart was created by the Hope Diamond. It burst for you. It would be a good gamble on their part.”
I felt the blood drain from my face, the shock of the stone’s name burrowing deep to my bones where it chilled my blood. “Steel Heart?”
With a little luck on my side, they’d assume my reaction was an expression of ignorance rather than disbelief, the fear of exposure, and recognition. A memory nagged at me, and I realized someone had already told me the Blade Clan’s stone had triggered my shift, but I’d forgotten.
I needed sleep, and a lot of it. Maybe after I rested, I’d be better equipped to handle the issues surrounding the missing Starfall stones.
“A weapon clan’s Starfall stone. The Blade Clan’s, to be specific. It doesn’t usually influence people, but it does change swords, although there’s a bit of a process for making its powers work. The burst did trigger first shifts, which doesn’t surprise me, since the Blade Clan is a shifter-classed clan, although their magic differs from most shifters. They’re two-stage shifters rather than one-stage shifters. Anatoly can explain it better than I can.”
Anatoly’s gaze bore into me, and a predatory gleam lit his eyes. “They’re born without gender. During their first shift, they choose their gender. The clan prides itself on having a line of strong men. They had one girl born—by that, I mean, choose to be a woman—since the clan’s formation some thirty years ago.”
Todd chuckled. “They must never let her out of their clan holdings. One woman for all those men? Talk about fierce competition.”
Shrugging, Anatoly relaxed in his seat, shifting his attention to Charlotte’s lead stallion. “They use betrothal practices. Shifter clans with eligible women make agreements with the Blade Clan should a Blade Clan child be born. Women are compensated for agreeing to birthing Blade Clan infants. If you really want to know more about it, ask Adams.”
Gentry sighed. “You just had to go there, didn’t you, Anatoly?”
“Todd enjoys pulling the tiger’s tail. I enjoy pulling the grizzly’s tail, not that you have much of one. Anyway, it’s the truth. I’m not going to lie about it.”
It took every scrap of my will to keep my breathing steady and remain seated, rather than bolting for the door. “You’re part of the Blade Clan?”
“No. My sister wanted to gift me with a sword to celebrate Dawnfire’s rise as Charlotte’s premier mercenary alliance. She wanted a child without the hassle of a mate, so she decided to make a match with one of the Blade Clan men. Turns out her first born was a Blade Clan child, so they kept the infant per their agreement. Todd served as her escort as a favor to me.”
“You just had to go there, didn’t you, Gentry?” Todd grumbled.
The three men glanced at each other and laughed.
Henry sighed. “Don’t mind them, Runs Against Wind. Put them into the same room together and trouble surely follows. Todd may not be a predator species, but he makes up for his lack of claws and sharp teeth with stubborn pride. Gentry’s every inch a grizzly, but he respects when people stand up to him. The fastest way to earn his respect is to slap him around. If you survive his swipes, you’ll end up with a best friend for life. Anatoly’s a cat. Don’t ask me what he’s thinking. He probably finds the relationship of a horse and a bear interesting.”
I almost asked if I could leave but clacked my teeth together so I wouldn’t say a word.
While Gentry and Todd glared at each other, Anatoly turned his attention back to me, offering a smile. I lowered my eyes and glared at the map so I wouldn’t stare at his perfect mouth.
“Since you’ve told her that much, you may as well finish the story, Gentry. You haven’t gotten to the best part yet.”
The grizzly growled, almost loud enough to classify as a roar. While I grimaced at the sound, Anatoly laughed.
“You may think this is funny, but I do not. The girl’s my niece, damn it!”
The world crashed to a halt around me. I felt my mouth drop open, but I was powerless to close it—or do anything other than stare at the map, my heart thudding an erratic beat in my ears. “What?”
Gentry exhaled, a long and pained huff. “The weapon clans have an unusual sense of right, wrong, and family. Until my niece decided to become a woman, the idea of one of them having a daughter they’d actually have to care for never even crossed their minds. I don’t think they even thought it was possible for one of them to choose to become anything other than a ma
n. My sister made her choice, and who was I to say she couldn’t have a child? Neither one of us really believed she’d lose her baby to the clan.”
The thought of becoming a woman hadn’t crossed my mind either, not until it had happened. The thought of having relatives stunned me almost as much as the idea I sat in the same room with one. That he was Dawnfire’s guild master and the controller of a bounty for my life horrified me.
I missed my uncomplicated life in Wyoming, where no one cared if I had a name other than Runs Against Wind and people judged me by the quality of my animals. No one cared where I’d come from or where I went, as long as I did what I claimed I would, which I did. My inability to cook anything they considered palatable mattered, resulting in anonymous packages of food being left on my doorstep. We shared a mutual enjoyment of beer, and whenever someone had a problem with one of their horses, they came to me.
I understood the relationship of neighbors. The idea there was someone bound to me by blood unsettled me. What was I supposed to do with a blood relative, especially one like Gentry Adams?
Running away seemed like a wise choice, but I had already eliminated that as an option.
There was only one question I could hide behind, although I knew the answer far better than anyone else. “What happened?”
Gentry shrugged. After several moments, Todd answered, “She disappeared. Some believe she suicided. Others believe she ran away. No one knows for certain what happened to her. They just know she chose to become a girl. When they gathered the rest of the boys who had undergone their rite of passage and picked their gender, she was gone. They only know she had become a girl because of her scent. They had shifters of all types verify the ritual site to confirm she had chosen to become a girl.”
Likely encouraged by Todd’s words, Gentry said, “We don’t even know what she looks like; when a child of the Blade Clan picks their gender, their appearance changes. We have nothing to go on. We can’t track her by scent. The Blade Clan members are among the most unusual of shifters. After their first shift, their scent changes over the following month or two. Their scent changes again at puberty, and a third time after their second shift. Most in that clan don’t shift into their animals until their mid to late forties, so we have another decade or two before we can start looking at late-age shifters.”