by Jae
The liger lifted her head. Her massive jaw snapped shut, but instead of sinking her canines into Jorie, she blew air through her nose, making a soft sound.
Jorie had watched enough wildlife documentaries during the course of her research to recognize it as a friendly greeting. Thank God! She's saying hello. Jorie relaxed a little. One hand groped behind her and found support against a tree as her knees weakened in relief. "Hello, Griffin," she said softly.
The liger's ears swiveled in her direction. One paw lifted, and she stepped even closer. Then the furry head butted Jorie in the chest, nuzzling her.
Her nervous tension dissipated, and Jorie giggled as the whiskers tickled her skin. She lifted a hand and carefully buried her fingers in the thick, shaggy fur, feeling the warmth underneath.
A deep purring sound rumbled up from the cat's broad chest.
"You like that, don't you?" It all seemed so unreal. Here she was standing, petting a giant cat, who was really a shape-shifter.
The big cat allowed the touch for a moment; then with another chuffing sound, Griffin was off. She ran around the clearing, circling Jorie playfully, always staying within viewing distance. Leaves scattered under big paws as she darted behind trees and reappeared moments later. Muscles bunched and shifted under fur that glittered like gold in the setting sun.
Seeing the giant cat move so gracefully was astonishing, but at the same time, Jorie felt as if she had watched it a thousand times before. I know this, don't I? I've seen this before. She shook her head at herself. Maybe I've watched a few too many tiger documentaries.
Jorie leaned back against the oak and watched. Never in her life had she seen something so amazing. Griffin looked so free, so powerful and completely in her element as she prowled through the forest. This was Griffin's second nature, the secret she had protected so carefully — and Jorie now understood why. She was a writer, a person who made her living with her overactive imagination, but even she had trouble reconciling the tall zoologist with this majestic big cat. How could other humans understand that they were one and the same and yet entirely different? Would humans respect something they couldn't understand or would they start to kill them in fear?
Finally, the liger calmed down. The playful energy now gone, she returned to Jorie and the steaks.
Jorie took another step aside, but the cat didn't seem worried that Jorie would try to take away her food. She sniffed the meat and gulped it down without even chewing. Then she tilted her head to look at Jorie.
The gaze communicated a silent question and made Jorie laugh. "Sorry. It's all gone. You should have packed more."
The liger took her nose out of the backpack. After what Griffin had told her, Jorie was sure that she didn't understand her words, but maybe she understood the playful regret in her voice.
Jorie would have loved to wander through the forest with the big cat, watch the lithe muscles move under the golden-reddish fur, but she didn't want to risk moving around too much just yet. Griffin was clearly still hungry, and even a slowly walking human might trigger her hunting instincts. It was better to stay back and watch as the liger explored the clearing and the surrounding trees some more.
Finally, when darkness started to fall, the cat stopped and stood still. The long fur receded. Paws lengthened into arms and legs and formed joints in new places. Snarls and growls let Jorie know that shifting back was as painful as changing from human to animal.
A short while later, Griffin's human form crouched on a pile of leaves.
"Here," Jorie said after a few moments of amazed staring. She handed Griffin the sweatshirt that she had dropped next to the backpack.
Griffin quickly slipped into the rest of her clothes. Either she was getting cold in the cool fall air, or she wasn't as comfortable with Jorie seeing her naked as she had pretended to be.
Neither of them spoke. After sharing this experience with Griffin, Jorie didn't know what to say. For once, she was strangely tongue-tied, and it wasn't just the awkwardness of standing in the middle of the forest with a half-dressed woman. Watching Griffin shift, seeing her in her animal form, had been an awe-inspiring experience, and for once, even Jorie didn't have the words to describe it.
They made their way back to Rhonda's house in silence, both of them still lost in thought about their shared experience.
CHAPTER 21
"WE'RE JUST ASKING for forty-eight hours," Rufus said, "not for a decision about what will happen to Jorie Price or Saru Westmore."
Kendrick Ryle, the Ashawe councilor, glanced away from the landscape photographs above Rufus's desk. They'd been a gift from Kylin, but he didn't need to know that. Ryle's brown eyes drilled into Rufus's until the younger man lowered his gaze. "Saru Westmore is your manark's sister, so why isn't she here, asking me herself?"
Because my proud cat isn't as good at begging as I am, Rufus thought. Aloud he said, "She wanted to, but a last-minute meeting with Manark Madsen kept her away." It was the truth — but it hadn't been Madsen who had summoned Kylin. Ky had asked for the meeting. I wonder how it's going. Is she back already? For once, Rufus cursed the soundproof walls of his office. They didn't allow him to listen for the familiar footsteps in the room next to his.
"Why would I vote for giving Saru Westmore forty-eight hours?" Ryle asked. They both knew it wouldn't be a popular vote with the other councilors.
"Because you're clever," Rufus said. Flattery was one of the tools of his trade, and after growing up as a hybrid in a Syak pack, he was good at it. "I think you can tell that something is going on in the council. Saru Westmore told us her tas forged her reports, and I believe her. Jennings wants Jorie Price dead, and it's not because her novel is a threat. If we want to get to the bottom of this, we need time."
Ryle's head tilted.
"And because Manark Westmore would consider it a personal favor if you voted on giving her sister the forty-eight hours," Rufus added, tipping the scales even more in his favor.
Had he been in his coyote form, Ryle's ears would have perked up at the mention of the magic words of council politics: personal favor. It meant Kylin would owe him. "All right," Ryle said and stood. "Forty-eight hours."
Before he could reach the door, it swung open.
Ky.
The familiar scent drifted into the office, making it smell like home.
Ky paused in the doorway. The welcoming smile on her lips transformed into her well-practiced business mask when she saw that Ryle was still in Rufus's office.
"Manark Westmore." Ryle sidestepped to let her enter. Kylin's large form intimidated him. Not that Rufus could blame him. Her solid build and the proud confidence of Kylin's stance commanded respect. Unlike Rufus, the Ashawe had never seen Kylin's softer, playful side. "I just told your assistant that I'd vote in your favor."
Kylin's gaze briefly met Rufus's. Relief brightened her eyes, but Rufus could also see the silent question about the price she was going to have to pay for that concession. "Thank you," she said. "I knew I could rely on you to decide with a cool head and not a heart full of prejudice and paranoia."
Ryle's back straightened under Ky's compliment. "No need to thank me," he said gruffly. "I'll make sure to cash in on that favor some day."
Opposing Jeff Madsen and Thyra Davis, the two most conservative and powerful councilors, could be detrimental to your career, and Ryle knew that. If he was going to vote in favor of letting the human live for a while longer, he wanted to make sure everyone thought it was just because Kylin would owe him, not because he was harboring doubts about the way Wrasa treated humans.
"Of course," Kylin said. She turned to Rufus, her tone and expression businesslike as she said, "I need the documents that the California office sent over."
Rufus gave a respectful nod. "Right away, Manark." He riffled through the papers on his desk, pretending to search for documents that didn't exist, until he heard the door close behind Kendrick Ryle.
A strong hand covered his own. "Hey," Kylin said. The intimacy
of the single word made Rufus shiver. "How did it go?"
Rufus turned his hand around and threaded his fingers with hers. His thumb stroked her palm, and he had to grin when a short purr reached his ears. "Good," he said. "As we suspected, he liked being called clever. He can sense that there's something going on too. What about Madsen?"
Triumph lit up the amber eyes. "He agreed to give Griffin forty-eight hours."
Rufus had always admired her skills at negotiation, but this was a minor miracle. Jeff Madsen wasn't known for being a pushover. More often than not, he gave Kylin a hard time during council meetings. And his position on the Jorie Price issue was clear: she needed to die. "So our plan worked? Or did you have to promise him your firstborn?"
Regret choked him only seconds after he had said it. As hybrids, chances were that neither Kylin nor he would ever have children. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Kylin's gaze was soft. "It's okay."
It wasn't. Rufus saw the pain in her amber eyes. "Ky..."
"Not here," she said. "This is not the time or the place to discuss it. Let's focus on Griffin right now, okay?"
Rufus squeezed her hand in silent agreement. He knew she was worried about her sister. "How did you manage to convince him, then?" he asked. "Did he take the bait when you promised to vote for his bill on inter-pack trade in return?"
A slow smile stalked across Kylin's face. "The bait, the hook, the line, and the sinker," she said, then sobered. "But for a moment, I thought he wouldn't." Her shoulders held traces of the tension she must have felt in that moment. "I thought I might have to do a little blackmailing."
Now Rufus tensed too. "But you didn't?" Blackmailing a man like Jeff Madsen was dangerous and, under normal circumstances, nearly impossible. Madsen was careful not to make himself vulnerable by revealing his secrets, so they had to use their own secret. Since he was the leader of the pack to which Rufus's father belonged, some people saw Madsen responsible for Rufus's behavior too. If it became public knowledge that Rufus had started a relationship with his boss, another hybrid, right under Madsen's nose, it wouldn't look good for Madsen.
It wouldn't look good for Kylin either, though, and that was why Rufus hadn't liked their plan B of blackmailing Madsen with their relationship. Under no circumstances did he want Kylin to lose her job or risk the scorn of society because of him.
Kylin brushed her hand along his forearm. "I didn't. We agreed that it would only be our last resort, and it turned out it wasn't necessary. I think Madsen agreed to give us forty-eight hours because he thinks I'm planning on contacting Griffin during that time and will lead them right to her."
"Which means you'll have to stay away," Rufus said and watched her reaction closely. She possessed the typical stubbornness of cats, and while it could be endearing at times, it could also be dangerous.
A sigh ruffled Rufus's hair. "I wish I could do more to help her. She's my sister, Rufe," Kylin said.
Rufus slid his hands onto tense shoulders and started to knead them until he felt the rumbling purr vibrate through his fingers. "I know. But are you sure that Griffin is doing the right thing and isn't just messing up her life — and yours — on a whim?" Even though she was Kylin's twin sister, he had met her only twice and didn't know her well enough to trust her integrity.
"I'm sure," Kylin said. Her tone left no doubt about it. "Griffin has tried to convince herself for years that she doesn't care for much in the world, doesn't even need her family. But her heart is in the right place. She has been my protector when we were children, and if she's now protecting Jorie Price, I have to believe that she didn't make that decision lightly."
Rufus nodded. "Okay." He trusted Kylin's judgment without reservation.
A quick, warm touch stopped Rufus's massaging hands. "I have to go and call my fathers. Want to say hello?" she asked with a charming grin.
A nervous chuckle bubbled up his throat. "No, thanks. I think I better wait here." His gaze followed her tall form until the door closed behind Ky.
* * *
"What in the Great Hunter's name happened?" Brian's booming voice reached him as soon as Gus unlocked the door and entered the house.
Very slowly, Gus laid his keys on the side table next to the door, hung up his jacket, and slipped out of his shoes. He didn't like his brother's tone, so he didn't react to the question.
"What happened?" Brian asked again, now even more forcefully.
Gus looked up. "First, I picked Martha up at her house and took her for a romantic stroll around town. During the first half hour, she was complaining about her daughter still being unmarried and telling me to give Leigh a good kick in the ass, but she forgot all about it when we stopped at the edge of town and I kissed her," he answered unhurriedly.
A growl rose up Brian's chest. "That's not what I wanted to hear."
"And that's not the way I want to be asked," Gus said firmly and held his brother's gaze.
Finally, Brian relented. He licked his lips and looked away. "Sorry," he grumbled. "Old habit."
A bad habit, Gus thought. It was time for Brian to remember that Gus wasn't just one of the pride members.
Brian followed him into the living room. "Griffin came over earlier with a lip the size of..." He trailed off, searching for the right comparison.
"The size of Tarquin's fist," Gus finished for him. "It seems they had another run-in. I stopped it before it could escalate."
"Great," Brian said. His lips formed a grim line. "Just what we needed now on top of everything else."
"It wasn't Griffin's fault," Gus said. True, it hadn't been the best of times for Griffin to get involved in a fight with Tarquin, but knowing Tarquin's attitude when it came to Griffin, Tarquin had left her no choice. "Now that Tarquin knows Griffin is in town, it won't be long before the whole pride knows, and before too long, everyone will know we're hiding a human."
"I could deal with that if it were just the pride," Brian said. "I'll put the thumbscrews on Tarquin and let him know I won't tolerate his behavior any longer just because he's the son of our best huntress. We can control the pride, but very soon, the Saru will come looking for them. We need a plan since Griffin obviously doesn't have one. I know there are no easy solutions, and she's doing the best she can, but if the Saru find them here, we'll all be in big trouble. We can't risk that, Gus. We're responsible for the whole pride, not just for Griffin."
Gus knew that, of course. Even if his brother sometimes forgot it, he carried half of that responsibility on his shoulders. He had also agreed to carry half the responsibility for Griffin as his daughter. Brian tended to forget that too. "Does that mean you want them to go, to leave town and hide somewhere else?"
"No!" Brian said sharply. "No. If they leave our territory, we can't protect them or help them in any way. They'll be fair game. I want Griffin to stay. Unless..." He hesitated. "Unless, of course, you think it would be better for the pride if she goes."
Anger pierced Gus's usual calm. "Why does everyone here think I don't care about Griffin?" He was a patient man, but enough was enough. "Earlier, Griffin expected me to pat Tarquin on the back and to send her away, and now you think that too."
Brian stared at him. "I'm sorry," he said, at a loss for words.
Two apologies from Brian in one day, Gus thought with a little bit of amusement and a lot of surprise. Griffin's return clearly threw him.
"It's not that I think you don't care," Brian said, searching for words because he wasn't used to voicing his feelings about Griffin. "It's just that... maybe I think that since Griffin... I mean... I was the one who went and had an affair with Nella, despite your warning. You had to live with the consequences too, and that's not fair. It should be my responsibility alone. Griffin is my responsibility."
"No," Gus said firmly. "She's not your responsibility. She's your daughter. And she's my daughter too."
The phone rang before Brian could answer.
Brian turned his head and helplessly looked at it as if he didn't know w
hether he should be annoyed or relieved at the interruption.
"I'll go," Gus said and picked it up.
"Hi, Dad. It's Kylin," an unusually somber voice said.
Normally, Gus's middle daughter was more cheerful. "Hey, Ky. How are you? And how's Rufus?" he asked with a smile.
"Hush!" Kylin said hurriedly but then relented. "He's fine. Listen... is Griffin around?"
"No. She's not staying here at the house. I think it's too Kasari for her." He remembered how much Griffin had disliked the constant social interaction when she had stayed with them that summer fifteen years ago. The cousins stopping by at all hours, half a dozen guests for dinner, and friends dropping by unannounced... it had all been too much for Griffin's Puwar side.
"I can imagine," Kylin said.
Could she imagine because she knew Griffin well or because staying at the house was similarly taxing for her? Not for the first time, Gus asked himself whether she just endured it without complaint so she wouldn't hurt her fathers' feelings. I should have asked her a long time ago. Brian always thought the twins were his responsibility and often kept them away from me, and I let him. I sat back and watched as the pride threw Griffin out for beating up Tarquin.
"Could you give her a message from me?" Ky asked, interrupting his thoughts.
"Sure."
"Just tell her I got her forty-eight hours. After that, all bets are off." Kylin's voice was as grim as the situation. "I wish I could do more. I wish I could just take the next plane and —"
"No," Gus interrupted. One daughter in the middle of this dangerous situation was more than enough. "You stay where you are. We need you to keep an eye on the council. You did what you could. Now let us help your sister."
Kylin was silent for a few seconds. "And? Will you? Will Brian really help her when the Saru come knocking on your door, even if he risks being exiled to Siberia this time?"
Hurt and anger made Gus grit his teeth. A daughter shouldn't doubt that her fathers will protect her, no matter what. Kylin's lack of trust in them hurt, but still, he couldn't blame her. All of them had made mistakes, and he hadn't done enough to instill unshakable trust in his daughters.