by Jae
"After you're done, get Max or your mother to spray a generous dose of lavender or something else that can cover your scent," Gus said.
Griffin studied them. They really make a great team. Maybe being a Kasari had its advantages. "All right."
Making sure to stay downwind of the house, she hid behind one of the large trees surrounding the bed-and-breakfast. From here, she could still see Gus and Brian, but if she kept her head down, no one could see her.
Gus knocked on the door.
Griffin's heart echoed the hammering beat. Her muscles flexed against the confines of her clothes.
The door swung open.
Brian's broad back hid the face of the Syak that had opened the door, but the wind carried the scent of an aggressive male toward Griffin.
"What do you want, cat?" the man, probably the new leader of the pack, growled.
"For someone who is far from home, in the middle of a stranger's territory, he isn't very polite, is he, Brian?" Gus said conversationally.
"Maybe he's not aware of the age-old rules that forbid anyone from entering another's territory without express permission, brother," Brian said. His voice was as hard and arrogant as his stance. "Maybe he needs a little reminder."
The threat was evident in his tone.
Nothing about Brian reminded of the calm man who had stood next to Griffin just minutes ago. He had smoothly slipped back into the act of the brash, dominant pride leader.
An act... Griffin had never before thought about it like this. His stubborn, overbearing arrogance was all she had ever seen. Maybe I should take the time to look a little deeper. But not now.
When she directed her attention back to the Syak, she caught glimpses of grayish hair as the new alpha squirmed from one foot to the other.
He wants to move back but can't without losing face in front of the pack. Griffin grinned. She didn't envy him.
"What do you want?" the Syak asked, this time just a tad more politely.
"It's time," Brian said.
"Time for what?" the Syak asked. Griffin heard the frown in his voice.
"Time for the sleme," Brian answered.
Genius, Griffin thought with admiration. The Syak would never leave their dead leader behind, so this might be the only way to get them out of the house. She sat back and listened as discussions broke out among the Syak.
"This is our territory," Brian's booming voice cut through all the protests. "We make the decisions here, not you. You can't take the body with you, and it's stinking up the place. Soon, even the humans in Osgrove will be able to smell him even from across town. We won't take the risk of a human discovering the body. The First Law demands cremation within two days, and they're up. I'm sure you know there are a lot of saru around. They would be very upset to learn you're not following the First Law."
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," the Syak's alpha said with a wolfish grin. "I can imagine how upset the Saru are with you. Maybe we'll hang around for a while longer and watch what they'll do to you once the council order finally comes."
Brian growled.
"While your dead leader is slowly rotting away in a cat's territory?" Gus asked. "Is that what pack loyalty means to you Syak?"
Most of the Syak looked away.
"We don't have a pyre site in the UP," one of the younger pack members said.
"No problem," Gus said, giving the growling Syak a friendly pat. "Our pyre site is really beautiful, and we'll honor your alpha by letting you use it."
Clever, Griffin thought. He's allowing their new alpha to save face while still doing what we want him to do.
After ten more minutes of discussion, the Syak finally carried Cedric Jennings's covered body out of the house. The somber congregation followed Brian and Gus into the forest.
When their footfalls faded away, Griffin shot up from behind the tree and sprinted toward the front door of the cabin the Syak had rented. Her hand reached for the set of lock picks in the back pocket of her cargo pants — and came away empty.
Somehow, somewhere in the chaos of the last few days, she had lost the lock picks.
Cursing, Griffin eyed the cabin's front door. The lock was sturdy. No way of getting in without the Syak noticing that she'd been there.
With her muscled frame and her four hundred pounds, she could easily break down the door, but this open invasion of their privacy wouldn't go over well with the Syak.
Well, they'll just have to get over it. She didn't have time to go to the main cabin and retrieve the key.
Griffin took one step back and angled her shoulder, aiming at the door.
"You're not, by any chance, trying to destroy the front door of one of my cabins, are you?" a voice purred behind her.
Griffin's shoulder dropped. She turned around and met the hard eyes of Max Henderson, the Puwar who owned the bed-and-breakfast.
Damn.
"Um. I..." Griffin stopped herself. Lame excuses wouldn't work. Max was too clever. There was no time for long explanations. Griffin swallowed her pride and made a decision. "I need your help. I need to get inside the cabin," she told him.
"The council warned me not to get involved again one way or the other until they make a decision," Max said. "Anyone who helps you will earn the wrath of the council."
He was right. Max wasn't part of the pride. He had no obligation to help her. All he wanted was to be left alone, and if he helped Griffin any more than he already had, the council would make sure he never got any peace again. Griffin ground her teeth.
Her muscles tensed, and she flexed her fingers, getting ready to fight her way into the cabin if necessary. She couldn't allow Max to stop her. Jorie's life and her own depended on convincing the council. They needed proof.
Max cocked his head and pretended to listen. "Strange," he mumbled. "I thought I heard something outside. Guess it was just the wind." As he strolled away, back to the main house, something fell from his pocket.
The little object gleamed in the grayish light of predawn. Griffin bent down and picked it up.
It was a key.
That wily old tiger! Grinning, Griffin unlocked the cabin's door.
Everything was quiet inside. The cabin reeked of wolf and death. She followed the scent through the main room, not bothering to turn on the light. Her nose guided her unerringly to the room where they had kept Jennings's body and his possessions.
The door creaked open.
Ugh.
The sickly sweet stench of death engulfed Griffin as she entered the room. She pinched her nose and tried to ignore it. Once she was inside the room, Griffin turned on the light.
Not that there was much to see.
Since Cedric Jennings had never stayed at the bed-and-breakfast and had traveled lightly, there probably wasn't much to find. Griffin rifled through drawers and glanced at the objects on the dresser. As far as her suffering nose could tell, nothing carried Jennings's scent.
Half-hidden under the bed lay a duffel bag. Griffin knelt down and opened it.
A sloppily folded shirt peeked out. Jennings's scent clung to it.
He won't need it anymore. The thought hit her with unexpected force.
She had killed a man. A fellow saru.
There was no doubt in Griffin's mind that she had done the right thing. She had killed Jennings to protect Jorie, protect herself, and prevent her species from going down a road that just wasn't right. She would do it all again if necessary, but that didn't stop the feelings of guilt.
At one time, Cedric Jennings had been her commanding officer, a man of duty and honor. While he had never been a close friend, she had always respected him. What had led him to becoming a killer of defenseless humans? Had he always been that way, and she just hadn't seen it?
The hand that reached into the duffel bag trembled, and she scolded herself. Get yourself together. Now is not the time to fall apart.
Her searching hands encountered a plane ticket. Just one. Jennings never planned on capturing
Jorie or me alive.
His cell phone was nowhere to be found. Either he had lost it in the forest, or the pack's new leader had taken possession of it. Digging deeper, Griffin's fingers found something else, buried safely under a pair of socks. She pulled it out of the duffel bag. It was a small book. Griffin slid her hands along the worn leather.
It's at least a decade old, her nose told her. Had Cedric Jennings kept a diary? Had he written down his plans, maybe even explained why he was so hell-bent on killing humans?
Holding her breath, Griffin opened the little book. Jennings's scent clung to every page.
Then Griffin looked at the handwriting.
Disappointment tightened her lips. While the Saru were careful not to write down mission outlines and reports to avoid being detected by humans, the few of them who still knew enough of the Old Language sometimes used it for personal notes. The diary was written in English, though, and the gentle slopes didn't resemble Jennings's nearly unreadable scrawl.
She pulled her glasses from her shirt pocket and read a few of the slightly faded lines.
I met her today — the woman I've been dreaming about. I can't believe she lives right here, among us. I can't let that continue. She's dangerous. If I don't stop her, she'll kill us all. Nobody else can see it, can sense the danger. I'm the only one who can stop her. The only one who sees her for what she is. I need to find a way to kill her without arousing suspicions.
Griffin frowned down at the page. This was the diary of a dream seer. It wasn't her grandfather's familiar handwriting, though. I always thought he was the only maharsi who kept a dream diary. Apparently, other dream seers had wanted to leave something behind for posterity too. And it wasn't a legacy of peace. Had he been a maharsi who had hunted humans? Had he been Jennings's inspiration, his guiding light? Had Jennings killed humans that the dream seer had described decades ago in his diary?
Maybe he dreamed about humans who would turn out to be threats. Maybe he described them in his diary, and Jennings searched for them and killed them.
Griffin's thumbs rubbed the worn leather. Even among the maharsi, a dream seer who couldn't only see the future but was powerful enough to change it was rare.
Is Jorie in the diary? Did he dream about her, describe her as a threat?
She was almost afraid to find out. Flipping through the book, she searched for the last few entries in the diary.
I dreamed about him again. I don't know if I'll ever meet him in my waking life, but if I do, I know I'll die. He'll kill me. I've seen it in my dreams. He knows what I am and what I've done. He wants to stop me, and I can't let that happen.
The entries stopped there, long before they reached the book's last page. Looks like his dreams came true. The hunter became the hunted in the end.
The more Griffin read, the less she understood. She flipped open the very first page. Crooked letters formed a name: Thomas McCree.
The diary must be older than I thought. The entries weren't dated, but she knew the name of every maharsi of her grandfather's generation, but this name was foreign to her. A lot of Puwar had adopted Scottish or Irish last names many centuries ago because it provided a ready explanation for their reddish hair.
No time for solving this mystery now. She got up and looked around the room once more. Except for the diary, there was nothing else of interest. Clutching the little book, she turned and headed for the door.
CHAPTER 28
"THIS ISN'T RIGHT," Leonidas growled under his breath. "Whisking us away at the spur of the moment to hold the sleme, forcing us to burn Cedric without giving us the chance to pick a few of his cherished belongings to burn along with him... It's an affront to every Syak!"
"Are you criticizing my decision to go with them?" Paul snapped. As the new, not yet fully established alpha, he couldn't afford to let Leonidas continue his constant complaining.
Leonidas squared his shoulders. "I'm just wondering why you're so afraid of a few Kasari. We could have handled them."
"Yes, but then what?" Paul asked, staring him down. "Jeff Madsen told me he'd have our pelts if we move even one paw without his express permission. A good leader doesn't only need the courage to attack. He also needs the brains to know when it's better to wait. Cedric didn't. He acted rashly, without the council's permission, and that's why he's dead now."
Anger smoldered in Leonidas's eyes. "Cedric was a better leader than —"
"Leonidas, hush," Kelsey whispered and nudged him with an elbow as she saw the two Kasari who walked at the head of the group turn and look at them. "This discussion is getting us nowhere, and at times like this, the pack should stick together, not be at each other's throat. Maybe for now it's best to do what the Kasari want." They were in the Kasari's territory, had entered it without an invitation, and as it turned out, they hadn't even acted on council orders. Cedric had lied to them, and he'd paid the price.
The pack members morosely trotted through the forest, following the Kasari to their sleme site.
Cinnamon-colored fur brushed against Kelsey's arm, and she looked down.
Wesley.
The barely grown pup had changed into his wolf form. Not that Kelsey could blame him. Part of her longed to shift and get rid of the tumult of feelings that tumbled through her. She could live with the grief and the guilt over having rushed after the rest of the pack to hunt the human, as Jennings had ordered, instead of helping her alpha against the giant cat. The relief was the hardest to take. As long as first Cyrus, then his brother Cedric had ruled the pack, Kelsey had lived under constant pressure. The expectations of her fellow pack members about how she was supposed to act, whom she was supposed to like weighed heavily on her shoulders.
Now that Paul, a man who already had a mate, had taken over as the pack's alpha, that weight was suddenly gone.
"We should have at least brought Cedric's little book with us," Leonidas continued to complain. "It meant a lot to him, and he was always careful about not letting anyone read it, so it should be burned with him. You should send someone back for the book."
"The Kasari won't allow that. We already waited longer than allowed for the sleme," Kelsey said. She was used to being the diplomat of the pack, forever mediating and settling quarrels between the more aggressive pack members.
Leonidas turned midstep. His gaze drilled into her. "Then maybe you should go. You're so good at getting away."
The fine hairs on Kelsey's neck lifted at the blatant allusion to her continued disregard for Cedric's interest in her. Both Jennings brothers had wanted her as a mate, but Kelsey hadn't been interested in either of them.
"He's right," Paul said, surprising Kelsey. "If anyone has a chance of slipping away without the cats noticing immediately, it's you. Just make sure that you get the book before they follow you and drag you back."
Kelsey opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Paul's eyes were hard and unyielding. He was still establishing his rule over the pack, so he couldn't afford to let her question his authority. Discussions would be useless.
She dropped her gaze. "All right." With one glance at the two Kasari, making sure they were busy keeping an eye on the pack mates who were carrying Cedric's body, Kelsey slipped away and quickly disappeared into the forest.
The soft sound of Wesley's paws padding over leaves followed her.
* * *
Griffin pulled the cabin's front door shut behind her. She blinked in the grayish light of dawn and breathed in deeply, trying to get rid of the foul odor of rotting flesh. She'd stop at Nella's cabin and get her to spray an extra big dose of lavender. When she turned around, she came face-to-face with a Syak who had just stepped out of the forest.
Both of them froze.
Adrenaline rushed through Griffin's blood. Her gaze flew left and right, trying to find out whether other pack members had returned too.
The forest lay in silence. The owls had stopped hooting as if they were aware of the two predators.
Mmm. Look at that. A lone
wolf. She sucked in the air, but the stench of dead wolf still clung to her clothes, making it hard to detect if there were other Syak around. Did she get away without the dads noticing, or does she belong to another pack? Griffin studied the sandy-brown hair, mixed with strands of a darker, sepia color. She knew the woman. Right before she had retreated to have her wounds treated, she had studied each and every one of the Syak who had attacked Jorie in the forest. Their images were burned into her brain. This woman was one of them.
Heat shot through Griffin as her body reacted to that realization. Rage rattled at the bars of her self-control. Part of her wanted to attack and show the Syak the consequences of hurting Jorie. Only years of training kept her from shifting on the spot.
The Syak's wiry body tensed. Anger flickered in the orange-brown eyes.
Oh, yeah. Griffin's blood sang, anticipating a fight. Come on. Attack me. Give me a reason.
But the woman didn't attack. She took a few settling breaths, and when she looked at Griffin again, her gaze was firm, but calm.
A saru, Griffin realized. No other Wrasa her age had that kind of self-control. She was probably one of the newer members of Jennings's unit. He had always tried to get as many of his pack members into Saru positions as possible. Since Griffin worked alone for the most part, she rarely met her colleagues.
"That book." the Syak woman pointed at the diary in Griffin's hand. "It belonged to my alpha. Hand it over."
Griffin tightened her grip on the diary and flashed a feral grin. Everything in Osgrove belonged to her fathers — and to her if she was strong and clever enough to take and defend it. A single Syak wouldn't stop her from taking the diary. "You're in no position to make demands. You're an unwelcome guest in my fathers' territory, so if you don't want to join your alpha in the sacred hunting grounds, you better get out of my way."
The Syak didn't back down. "Give me the book," she said again. Her voice trembled, but she held Griffin's gaze.