Second Nature

by Jae

  "Can I use the bathroom, please?" Griffin asked.

  "Of course." Jorie pointed her in the right direction.

  Griffin firmly closed the bathroom door behind her. The smell of Jorie's coconut shampoo filled the small room. She forced herself to ignore it and looked around.

  Jorie's hairbrush was lying next to the mirror. Griffin tugged a few of the black strands free. Carefully, she put them into the clear plastic bag that she had brought with her. She pocketed the bag, flushed the toilet, and washed her hands before she returned to the living room.

  To her annoyance, Dr. Saxton was still there, and Jorie looked as uncomfortable as Griffin felt.

  Helen came in, her coat folded over her arm. "I have to get going."

  Jorie rushed over to her. "And you're sure you don't want me to drive you to the airport?" She sounded as if she would have loved to get away from Dr. Saxton.

  But not as much as I do, Griffin thought. The scent of the flowers hung in the air, reminding her that the wildflowers would wilt soon. Thoughts of death and destruction made the strands of Jorie's hair rest heavily in her pocket.

  "I have the rental car, remember?" Helen's blue eyes crinkled with a smile. "You stay and entertain your guests."

  Dr. Saxton had the good sense to retreat. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I can come over another time when it's more convenient. Maybe you can call me." He bowed lightly and was gone.

  Griffin turned to follow him. There was no need to stick around now that she had what she had come for. Besides, she needed food and time alone to beat some sense into herself.

  "Hey," Helen's voice stopped her. "Don't you want to say good-bye to an old woman?"

  Saying good-bye wasn't her forte, but she turned to face Helen. "Of course I do."

  "The correct answer is: 'You're not old, Helen,'" Helen said. Her blue eyes twinkled.

  Griffin had to laugh. "You're not old, Helen," she said obediently. "But I want to say good-bye anyway." She held out her hand.

  Ignoring it, Helen reached around her and pulled Griffin down for a short hug instead.

  The warm hands on her back felt comforting, but at the same time, the motherly gesture made Griffin cringe with guilt. Here she was, enjoying a hug from a woman whose daughter she might have to kill.

  "Take care of Jorie for me, please," Helen whispered.

  Only one way she could answer that — and it was a lie. Deceiving others was part of her job, and normally, she didn't feel guilty about it. This time she did. "I will," Griffin whispered back.

  Helen let go and wrapped her arms around Jorie in a longer hug.

  Watching their warm interaction was hard. Griffin took Helen's bag and placed it in the trunk of Helen's rental car while Helen and Jorie said their final good-byes. She and Jorie stood side by side and watched Helen drive away.

  "Want to come inside?" Jorie asked when she finally turned back around.

  What she wanted was to get away. She needed time alone to eat and to prepare herself mentally for what she might have to do to complete her mission. "Another time," Griffin said, even knowing the next time they saw each other, it might not be a friendly get-together.

  CHAPTER 14

  HE TROTTED UP the hill, his ears pricked forward. Feeling the members of his pack follow behind him added to the excitement of the hunt.

  Their paws hit the ground in a rhythm that matched his heartbeat, accelerating when they got closer to the herd of white-tailed deer.

  Dusk had fallen, but every now and then, he caught a glimpse of grayish-brown heads bending down to graze. He stayed downwind and out of sight of the herd for as long as possible while they followed the scent trail.

  A squirrel scrambled up a tree when they got closer.

  One of the younger pack members gave a yip of excitement and broke formation to chase it down.

  He snarled at the half-grown pup until he took his place again.

  Too late. One of the deer had heard them.

  A large buck lifted its head and gave a sharp snort. Its tail flicked up, the white underside standing out in silent warning to all the other deer.

  The herd raced down the hill in blind panic.

  The chase was on.

  Wagging their tails in excitement, the pack members quickly caught up and singled out a slower-moving stag past his prime.

  Two of his wolves circled around, trying to grab a hind leg, while he leaped forward, aiming for the stag's throat. He jumped back when the antlers swung his way.

  "Tas Jennings?" The sudden shout interrupted his second attack.

  The old stag used the distraction to break through the group of attackers and catch up with its herd.

  With a sharp bark, he gave chase along with the rest of the pack.

  "Tas Jennings?" A second shout stopped him.

  The words were familiar and so was the voice. With a growl, he jerked around and bared his teeth.

  Another pack member, this one in his two-legged form, stood at the edge of the clearing, hesitating when he saw they were on the hunt.

  Enraged at the interruption, he bounded back up the hill and leaped.

  His two-legged pack member went down under his attack and lay still, baring his throat and belly.

  The silent submission calmed his anger. After a few moments, he backed away from the downed pack member and with one last growl began to shift.

  "Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me?" Cedric said as soon as human vocal cords had formed.

  "And I wouldn't have, Tas Jennings, but this is really important," Leonidas answered with his gaze averted. "One of the local farmers shot an Ashawe. With Saru Westmore gone, we need you to act as a Forest Service volunteer and bring back the body."

  Renewed anger shot through Cedric, and only his Saru training stopped him from shifting right back into his wolf form.

  He closed his eyes to calm himself. A picture of a dead Wrasa flashed before his closed eyes. It wasn't an Ashawe, though. He was looking down at his dead brother. Cyrus's tongue lolled, and the white hair that sprinkled his otherwise black fur along his belly was coated with blood.

  Cedric opened his eyes and shook his head to clear it. Another Wrasa dead, killed by a human, and all they wanted him to do was recover the body so that it wouldn't end up as some kind of trophy or with a taxidermist who would discover that it wasn't a normal animal. Instead of dealing with the problem, the council only buried it — quite literally. With their sentimental hesitation, the council members stripped them of their protection and made them defenseless.

  The bitter taste in his mouth made him spit. "Bring me my clothes," he ordered. "And call the damn lab again. I want the DNA report on Jorie Price on my desk when I return."

  * * *

  As he got out of his truck, Cedric's gaze fell on the body of the dead Ashawe in the back of his truck. He clenched his teeth when he remembered haggling over the "coyote" with the farmer who had shot him. Only his claim to be a volunteer for the Forest Service had finally convinced the old man to let him have the body.

  "The DNA report is on your desk, Tas," Kelsey said as she passed Cedric.

  Cedric nodded. He handed over the car keys and the responsibility for the dead Ashawe. "Have someone alert his family," he said, glad that this time, he didn't have to handle that unpleasant task. He had done it before, though, and he could remember the day when two saru had brought home his dead brother.

  Hoping to leave the memories behind, he strode inside. A sealed envelope sat on his desk. One slash of his finger tore it open. He glanced at the neatly printed information on the single sheet of paper. Just as I expected. With a grim nod, he fed the piece of paper into the shredder.

  A second document was lying on his desk — Griffin's latest report that someone had printed out for him. Cedric skimmed it. His jaw tightened with every word he read. "No immediate danger," he mumbled and snorted. The cat has no idea how dangerous Jorie Price really is. She has the potential to single-handedly throw our kind into chaos.


  His thumb stroked over the leather-bound diary on his desk. Even without opening it, he heard the warning the little book held. It reminded him of how dangerous Jorie Price really was, no matter what Griffin's report said.

  He stared at the report, knowing he was expected to sign it and send it off to the council. No. Signing it would mean signing a death sentence for his people and their way of life. If the council read Griffin's report, they would be lulled into a false sense of security, not recognizing the lurking danger. They would order him into inactivity and force him to watch helplessly as the human used her knowledge as a weapon against them.

  It had happened before, and he was the only one who could prevent it — and there was just one way to do that. He couldn't let the council know why Jorie Price was so dangerous. Their reactions to this particular revelation were too unpredictable. He didn't trust them to make the right decision.

  He snatched up the report. A grim smile formed on his lips as the shredder tore the report to pieces. When the last scrap of paper was destroyed, he reached for the phone.

  The number for the council chamber in Boise was on speed dial. They were waiting for the report.

  "Kylin Westmore," a voice at the other end of the line answered.

  Oh, wonderful. It just had to be her. Cedric grimaced. He had hoped that Jeff Madsen or one of the older council members would answer the phone. "Hello, Manark," he said, grudgingly using the title that, in his opinion, Kylin Westmore didn't deserve. Most of the councilors didn't. They didn't have what it took to protect their people. "It's Cedric Jennings. I'm calling with the final report on Jorie Price. Are the other councilors there with you?"

  "They're here," Kylin said.

  "Then put me on speakerphone... please." Cedric didn't want to deal with just Kylin. It wasn't that he disliked her because she was a hybrid. She was still a Wrasa, and that was all that counted for him as long as she used her political power to protect their kind. He wasn't sure that she did, though. According to his informant in the council, Kylin was part of a group of young reformers who were convinced that the future lay in an open coexistence with humans.

  Only that bunch of politicians sitting in their ivory tower in Boise could think that. Just one day in my line of work would convince them otherwise.

  The council members with their lofty sense of morality meant well, but they were out of touch with what it truly meant to protect their people. Only a man with his experience knew the truth. He had been in the front line of that unacknowledged war for years and knew how it felt to have to go out and make all proof of human cruelty disappear so that no Wrasa would panic and no human would suspect their existence.

  He shook his head while he waited to be put on speakerphone. No, he didn't trust most of the councilors to make the right decision. People like Kylin were too naïve and dewy-eyed to face the hard realities. They didn't have what it took to protect the Wrasa, so it was his job as a saru to do it for them.

  "Tas Jennings," Jeff Madsen's tinny voice came over the phone. "What do you have to report on Jorie Price? Any leads on an inside source?"

  "No," Cedric answered. "There are no signs that a traitor is involved."

  "Do you need more people for your investigation?" Madsen asked. "We can authorize the deployment of more saru, or we can send you one of our advisers to —"

  "No," Cedric quickly interrupted. Jeff Madsen was an old friend of his father's and always willing to be generous with his resources, but Cedric didn't want the council involved in this mission any more than necessary. They'd just get in his way and threaten the Wrasa's safety with their academic considerations and sentimental scruples. He didn't want them snooping around, asking too many questions, and getting too close to the truth. "That won't be necessary, Manark. We already wrapped up our investigation. We have all the information we need to make a decision."

  "What information is that?" Madsen asked. Clearly, he wanted to draw his own conclusions, make his own decision — a natural reaction for an alpha.

  "Jorie Price is a threat that needs to be eliminated — and quickly, before her novel can be published," Cedric said. No need to tell them that the novel wasn't even close to publication and would be read by just a few hundred readers. It was better to let them think the novel was why Jorie Price needed to die.

  "We still haven't heard any information, just your opinion," Kylin said politely, but firmly.

  Cats! Their tendency to question orders had given him a lot of headaches over the years. Cedric held back a growl. "Ms. Price gets ninety percent of all details about shape-shifters right in her novel. My team is sure that it's not just a coincidence. Saru Westmore tried to feed her false information and get her to use it, but the human didn't even write it down as if she knew it was incorrect."

  "How can she know what's right and what's wrong if she has no inside source of information?" Kylin asked.

  "I didn't say there was no inside source, just that we can't find one. If Saru Westmore, one of our best saru, can't get the human to give up her source, no one can," Cedric said, knowing Kylin couldn't object without discrediting her sister. "Killing Jorie Price is the safest course of action. If there really was a traitor, it will let him know that the Saru will keep an eye out for him and will kill him should he ever try to give information to a human again. Killing the human will be a good demonstration of our strength and vigilance."

  "I'm still not convinced that it's necessary to kill Jorie Price," Kylin said. "It's not just our own survival at risk. Jorie Price — and every other human — has a right to live too. Even the First Law says that killing a human can only be the very last resort."

  She's lecturing me on the First Law? Cedric's skin began to itch. Anger raced through his blood. The First Law was established to protect our kind from humans, not to justify the indecisiveness of some unworldly politician.

  "I'm well aware of that," he said as calmly as he could. "But we can't afford to wait. We have to act now before the situation snowballs and we lose control. If she publishes the novel and it sells well, she might write a couple of sequels. Before we know it, there's a Jorie Price fan club, conventions with humans dressing up as shape-shifters all over the country, and Hollywood knocking on Ms. Price's door to make a movie out it. Just think about what would happen if she then, on the height of her fame, reveals her source. Her word would carry a lot of weight then. If just a few of her readers believe she's not a complete lunatic..."

  In the shocked silence, Cedric heard a few of the councilors shuffling their feet.

  "And that's Saru Westmore's opinion too?" one of the other councilors asked.

  The Ashawe, one of those liberal fools.

  "Of course it is," Cedric said, safe in the knowledge that Griffin and her sister weren't close and didn't share information about their work. "Saru Westmore just sent in her final report, and she agrees with me. I'll send a copy over as soon as I can, but we need to act now." There would be time later to forge the report. It was a risk, but Cedric was willing to take it to protect his kind. For now, he had just one goal: Jorie Price needed to die.

  Murmurs and whispers filled the line as the councilors started a discussion among themselves. Finally, Thyra Davis's deep voice rose over everyone else's. "I suggest we give Saru Westmore the go-ahead to kill Jorie Price."

  "All right," Jeff Madsen said. "And if there's any way to get the writer to give up her source before she dies, tell Westmore that I want her to do whatever is possible to get that information."

  Yes! Cedric threw his head back in triumph. Finally they're seeing reason. "Yes, Manark," he answered but already knew he wouldn't waste time with more questions. He already knew the most likely answer.

  Highly satisfied, he ended the call.

  An hour from now, the biggest threat to all Wrasa would be eliminated.

  * * *

  The normally pleasant sounds of her cell phone didn't seem so pleasant anymore. Dread slowed down her steps as Griffin crossed the room
and picked up the phone. "Westmore."

  "It's time," Jennings said. Triumph resonated in his voice. "The council decided that Jorie Price is a continuing security risk that we have to deal with once and for all."

  It wasn't unexpected. After Jennings's last call, Griffin had known this moment would come. Still, she had hoped otherwise. Killing a human was bad enough if she had enough evidence to convince herself that he or she was a threat to her people's survival, but with Jorie, there wasn't even a halfhearted conviction that she was doing the right thing. "We should at least wait until I get the lab report on Jorie's DNA," she said.

  "I personally made sure they put a rush on it, and the lab has already sent in their report," Jennings said. "According to the lab, they would be able to tell you more if you had sent in a blood sample or gave them more time to do something they call a karyogram, but the root of the hair was enough to confirm that Jorie Price has no Wrasa-specific DNA sequences."

  "So she's human," Griffin concluded. That wasn't the news she had hoped for. Only being part Wrasa could have saved Jorie's life by now. "Are you convinced that there's no other way? What proof do we have that she's a threat that we can't handle any other way?"

  "Are you kidding?" Jennings's voice was a growl. "This woman gets ninety-nine percent of everything she mentions about shape-shifters right in her novel. She describes our physical appearance, our biology, shifting abilities, demographics, and culture as if she were writing nonfiction on some kind of animal that she thoroughly studied. You know we can't let her publish the book, and we can't let her live, because even if we destroy the manuscript, the knowledge is still in her head," Jennings said, sounding so matter-of-fact that it was hard to believe that he was talking about killing a human — killing Jorie.

  He doesn't care if Jorie lives or dies.

  Griffin cared. "But didn't the council consider that since it's lesbian fiction, just a small number of readers will even get to see the book?" Was she really the only one who thought that killing Jorie was unnecessary and wrong?