by Jae
Maybe, so she had thought, she could convince the council to spare Jorie or at least give her some more time to investigate. But instead of saving her, I ruined everything. Now that she saw me change, we have no choice but to kill her. And kill her fast before she can tell anyone.
Her broad shoulders slumped. She had just signed Jorie's death warrant.
CHAPTER 16
FOR ONCE, GRIFFIN couldn't enjoy the tranquility of the forest. She rushed through the undergrowth in search of Jorie. Branches hit her left and right, but she ignored it.
There had been no sign of Jorie or her car in all of Osgrove. If Jorie was trying to hide, she wasn't doing it in the little town. She was too clever for that. The only other nearby place that might provide some shelter was Jorie's secret writing spot, on top of the hunter's lookout.
Griffin stopped under the tree that housed the lookout. Her mouth opened, and she sucked in the air, tasting it.
The taste of earth and fallen leaves brushed over the roof of her mouth — the scents of approaching fall, not the images of spring that always came with breathing in Jorie's scent.
With a growl, she turned and hurried back to her car. She didn't need to climb the ladder to know Jorie wasn't here. Her senses told her that Jorie likely hadn't been near the hunter's lookout in weeks.
She brushed earth off her shoes before she got into her rental car. Think! Where would Jorie go? Without money or proper clothes, she couldn't have made it very far. If Griffin could find her before —
The loud ringing of her cell phone interrupted the thought.
One glance at the caller ID revealed that Cedric Jennings was calling her.
Time was running out.
Not answering was not an option. Jennings would send out a unit of Saru to search for her if she dropped off the radar. If she wanted to stay involved in the search for Jorie instead of becoming a target, she had to answer the phone. She would tell Jennings that Jorie had escaped because she'd made a mistake, not a conscious decision.
"Westmore," she said into the receiver, trying to sound calm even though her heart was beating loudly enough to be heard all the way to Arkansas.
"Is it done?" Jennings asked.
Oh, yeah, Griffin thought. I'm done with this assignment. That wasn't what Jennings was asking, though. "Not yet," she answered.
"What do you mean?" Jennings's voice was loud enough to make Griffin lift the cell phone away from her ear. "You had your orders. Very precise orders. I told you to kill her tonight."
"I was planning on doing it," Griffin answered and wondered, Did I? Did I ever really think I could slit Jorie's throat while she slept? "There were complications."
"Complications?" Jennings said, drawing out every syllable. "Is that cat talk for 'I fucked up my mission, Tas'?" He growled.
Everything was black-and-white for Jennings. Not killing Jorie was a failure to him.
"What happened?" Jennings asked, his voice now lethally calm.
Griffin swallowed. "Jorie Price escaped. She hit me in the head with her laptop and got away when I dropped the knife," she said, leaving out the fact that she had dropped the knife long before Jorie had attacked her.
"She hit you with her laptop?" Jennings sputtered.
It sounded kind of funny when you said it out loud. Griffin resisted the urge to joke about Jorie's writing being pretty dangerous after all. While the witty remark might have relieved some of her tension, taxing Jennings's patience was not a good idea. "That's not all," she said. "It all happened so fast that I couldn't stop myself from shifting, and she used that moment to escape."
Silence spread through the phone line.
Then Griffin heard a heavy object hit the wall — maybe Jennings had thrown something or punched the wall. "She saw you shift?" He growled. "How did you let the situation get so out of hand?"
The same question had been running through Griffin's mind a hundred times in the last hour. All her life, she had been so good at keeping control of her body and her emotions — and now she had lost complete control. Part of Griffin called herself a sentimental fool for being unable to kill the peacefully sleeping Jorie, but the other, bigger part knew she had done the right thing. She couldn't justify killing Jorie. Taking away the lives of humans who might not even be a danger wasn't how she wanted to spend her life. Survival at all costs wasn't survival at all. It would kill her soul.
"The council will have my head if we don't get the situation under control — but not before I have yours!" It wasn't an empty threat. Jennings had no tolerance for failure. He expected complete loyalty, obedience, and professionalism from the saru under his command.
"We should set up road blocks," Griffin said. At least this way, she could keep control over what happened when they found Jorie. And they would find Jorie. It was only a question of time. The local saru, who knew the area well, could help her stop Jorie from leaving the area and being captured by a unit of saru over which Griffin had no control. "She can't make it very far — she has no money, probably only half a tank of gas, and is still in her pajamas."
"I'll alert all our people in the area and call up the reserves," Jennings said.
Griffin closed her eyes for a moment. That meant her fathers would know about her failure before sunrise. Forget your stupid pride. What your fathers think about you really isn't important here. "Okay. I'll search —"
"You," Jennings interrupted, "will do nothing. You've done enough damage, so you'll stay out of this hunt. I'll be on the next plane, and you won't move a claw until I get there."
Her mouth tightened in helpless frustration. Griffin didn't want to sit around until someone came to tell her they had hunted Jorie down and killed her. After everything that had happened, she didn't trust the small-town saru and the reservists to keep control and not make Jorie suffer unnecessarily. She needed to find Jorie before they did, even if she didn't know what she would do once she had found her — kill her in a merciful way or try to keep her alive? She didn't allow herself to dwell on that crazy idea. "I can help find her," Griffin said.
"You've helped enough," Jennings said with biting sarcasm.
"But I know her. I know how she thinks and what her habits are. Let me help." Griffin took a deep breath and swallowed her feline pride. "Please."
A few endless seconds ticked by; then Jennings said, "Fine. But if you get in my way and ruin things again, I'll kill you along with the human." He ended the call before Griffin could respond.
* * *
Jorie pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator. Trembling hands had an iron grip on the steering wheel. The streets were still dark and empty, and she wasn't sure where she was going — just away, far away from the house and Griffin. Or whatever her name is... If she even has a name.
Her heart and her thoughts were racing as fast as the car. How can this be real? How did I go from writing about shape-shifters to meeting one? Hell, almost being killed and probably eaten by one! Nothing in her life made sense anymore. Chaotic waves of emotions rolled through her, fluctuating between confusion, anger, fear, and betrayal so fast that it threatened to overwhelm her. On top of it all, she was worried about her cats. Leaving them behind hadn't been an easy decision, but she didn't have a choice, and now she could only hope that Griffin wouldn't harm them. She seemed to bond with Will. But I guess that was all just part of the act.
She shivered in just her pajamas. Calm down, she ordered herself and eased up on the accelerator. Without stopping the car, she reached into the back, found an old sweatshirt, and struggled into it. For once, not being overly neat came in handy.
Who and what is she? Icy fear and confusion rippled up her spine when an image of Griffin's hand broadening into a paw flashed through her mind. Creatures like this shouldn't exist outside of her novels and her overactive imagination. But Griffin was real — and she had wanted to kill Jorie.
Why? And why waste the time to befriend me before she does it? Jorie found no answers to these questions. Instea
d, more questions popped into her mind. How did she get into the house with the alarm system armed? Groaning, she remembered who had installed the alarm system. Her cousin was in on it. Who else... Ally? She told me Griffin is an old friend of hers, so she must have known. Feelings of hurt and betrayal sliced through her, followed by panic. Oh, Jesus, how many of these... creatures are there? Suddenly, anyone could be an enemy out to kill her.
Her panicked gaze darted over the dark streets ahead. She needed help — money to get away and a place to hide and think. Maybe that was why Griffin had befriended her. Now she knew all the important people in Jorie's life and the places she frequented in town. Jorie couldn't call her mother or Jake Saxton without endangering them. That left her with no place to go.
She steered the car around a corner without slowing down much.
In the street ahead of her, one of the three police officers of Osgrove sat in his police cruiser, parked under a streetlamp, and drank from his water bottle.
The police! Yes! They can help. Relieved, Jorie eased up on the accelerator. I better leave out the part about the shifting into a big animal thing for now, though, or I'll find myself in the loony bin faster than I can say shape-shifter. I'll just tell him I've been attacked by a burglar in my house. As she slowed her car further, she realized the officer was the same who had taken her statement after the knife-wielding mugger had attacked Griffin and her behind the diner.
Wait. Her instincts screamed at her. She watched as the officer set down his water bottle and reached for his cell phone. He didn't look up and still hadn't seen her, used to being alone in the streets at this time of the night. Something about the way he moved...
The dim light of the streetlamp didn't allow her to make out details, but she had noticed it when he had taken her statement after the mugging. He moved with the same catlike grace as Griffin did.
Jorie pulled hard at the steering wheel. Her car fled down the next side street instead of driving up to the police cruiser.
All her life, she had tried to curb her instincts, to control her active imagination and channel it into her writing. But now her instincts were all she had to help her survive. A crazy dream about being chased by two predators had roused her from sleep and saved her from being killed by the very real predator in her bedroom.
The wail of the siren cut through the silence of the night.
Jorie's heartbeat tripled.
Was he chasing her?
Her gaze darted to the rearview mirror.
Instead of following her into the side street, the police cruiser raced down the main street with flashing lights.
Jorie exhaled sharply.
He got a call on his cell phone, not via the radio, and seconds later, he rushes off with lights and sirens? Her instincts had been right. Is he one of them too? God, if even the police is in on this, where will I be safe?
Another wave of fear made her stomach lurch. She had to find a place to hide now more than ever. Where can I go where none of these... things would look for me?
* * *
"Saru Westmore? Where do you want my team to search?" the young Ashawe asked, addressing Griffin with a respect that she knew other saru would no longer pay her if word of what had happened got out.
"Our guy on the local police force is combing the streets, so I suggest you search the surrounding woods," Griffin answered.
As someone who had grown up in a pack, the coyote-shifter was used to taking orders and working in a team. He nodded and walked away without questioning her order.
Manipulating him was easy because he didn't know Jorie. Jorie wasn't stupid. By now, she had probably figured out what Griffin was and that she felt very much at home in the forest. The Ashawe's team wouldn't find her in the forest — and Griffin didn't want them to. She wanted to be the one to find Jorie. It was the only way to make sure that no one killed Jorie. Not that she knew what she would say or do when she found her.
Maybe freeze and let her escape again, like you did when you stood in her bedroom with the knife in your hand. Anger, shame, guilt, and regret made it hard to think. Maybe you should have just killed her right then and there. At least it would have been fast, without unnecessary suffering. Now you sentenced her to death with your stupidity, and she'll live her last hours in fear and confusion. She rubbed her chest, then stopped, annoyed with herself. Her guilt couldn't be rubbed away so easily. She couldn't forget the look on Jorie's face when she had seen the knife and then Griffin's hand broaden into a paw.
From Jorie's reaction when she had watched her shift, it was clear to Griffin that Jorie hadn't believed in shape-shifters before. But while Jorie had clearly been shocked, she had neither fainted nor screamed hysterically when she came face-to-face with a big cat in her bedroom. It had taken her only a few seconds to recover and flee. She had even stopped to pick up her car keys and shoes on her way out. Why didn't she run away in complete panic? Or just freeze because she can't believe her eyes? Was it just Jorie's coolheaded nature, or was there more to it? Had a part of Jorie already believed that shape-shifters might exist even if she had no proof?
Griffin had a lot of questions, but to get the answers, she needed to find Jorie first.
Where would Jorie go? She knew all of her usual hangouts — the diner, the café, the doctor's office. Jorie wouldn't go there, and she wouldn't call her mother. She was used to dealing with her problems on her own and wouldn't want to put her mother in any danger.
That left Jorie with nowhere to go. She had no other friends in town. In her panic, she had run out of the house in pajamas and without her wallet. Without money, she wouldn't make it very far.
Griffin's powerful muscles carried her from one end of her room to the other, then back. Two other saru in the improvised operations center anxiously watched her pacing. Griffin ignored them. If she's clever — and I know she is — she'll go somewhere with a lot of people, where no one can kill her without having dozens of witnesses. She's probably starting to suspect that there's more than one shape-shifter around, and she can't identify us, but in large groups, chances are that there are enough humans for her to be safe.
When she reached for her pocket watch, she found it wasn't there. She had probably lost it when she had shifted without undressing first. A glance out the window showed her that it was still dark outside. Now where can I find large gatherings of people in Michigan in the middle of the night? Somewhere Jorie would feel safe.
A sudden idea flashed through her. Griffin grabbed the keys of her rental car.
"Saru Westmore? Where are you going?" Another local saru, one of Leigh's many cousins, ran after her.
"Just checking out a few things," Griffin answered.
"Do you want me to come with you?" the Kasari asked, eager for the hunt.
Griffin didn't want her — or any other saru — anywhere near where she was going. "No. There's something else I need you to do. Go to Jorie Price's house and find my pocket watch. I think I lost it in the bedroom. And put out some food for the cats while you're at it." Without waiting for a reply, she got into her car and sped off.
* * *
There she is.
Ava Fowler was right where Jorie had expected her to be at this hour. "Hello, Ava," Jorie said, stopping her just before she could leave the poker room and disappear into the anonymous masses playing the slot machines.
The tall woman turned around. She looked down at Jorie, surprise evident on the normally expressionless face. "Hello, Jorie," she said, still not smiling. "Never thought I'd see you here again — or at all."
Jorie hadn't thought so either. Since she had started to make her living writing, she'd played in casinos just once or twice, and she had steered clear of the casino where Ava usually played. Jorie said nothing. She didn't want to start making excuses or risk a fight. Not now, when she was here to ask a favor.
"Are you here to play? What happened to being chained to your laptop?" Ava asked with heavy sarcasm. "Finally found the key that opens the chai
ns, or are you in-between books?"
They had spent half of their three-month relationship fighting about the amount of time Jorie spent writing instead of being with Ava. Jorie had neither the time nor the energy to start the old discussion again. "Something like that," she answered.
Ava's gaze slid up and down Jorie's body with habitual familiarity. "You lost some weight," she said after a lazy perusal.
Almost to the ounce, Jorie still weighed the same she had when they'd last seen each other. The pants she had bought in the casino's shop with the money she kept in her car's ashtray didn't fit very well, though. Again, she said nothing. If Ava wanted to believe that the end of their short relationship had caused her to lose weight, she would let her believe it. She pulled Ava into a quieter corner, out of the busy poker room. "I need your help," she finally said.
Only Jorie, who had often sat across from Ava at a poker table, could see the surprise in the blue eyes. She had never asked Ava for help before. "Are you in trouble?" Ava asked, again studying Jorie intently.
Trouble didn't even begin to describe her situation. She was in the worst danger of her life. Jorie hesitated. "No," she said after a few moments. She couldn't drag Ava into this mess. Who knows what Griffin and the rest of her kind will do to her if they find her with me. And besides, she wouldn't believe me anyway. Ava had never been interested in Jorie's fictional worlds and creatures, saying that they exceeded her suspension of disbelief. Jorie could hardly believe it herself, so how could she expect someone like Ava to belief her story about being chased by a shape-shifter?
"I need money," she said. It wasn't easy to ask Ava for a favor, but running for her life left no room for pride.
"Now?" Ava asked.
Jorie nodded. "I know it's short notice, but yes, I need it here and now."