“Okay, let me finish feeding Traveler, and I’ll sit with both of you for a little while.” Straightening, she pressed her fingers into her lower back. “Man, I’m tired.”
Gracie’s tail thumped rhythmically on the ground stirring the dust of a dry dirt floor.
“I know, you need feeding too. Here you go.” She dug her scoop into a nearby barrel and shared the dog food with each of them. “There, that should keep you busy until I finish grooming Traveler.”
With the animals fed, Meagan made sure she shut the barn doors tight. As she headed for the house, a nearby limb made a good fetch stick for the Curs. Laughing as she watched them race after the temptation, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. A dark figure stood a couple hundred yards away down a line of pines which bordered the Latimar property line. The sun had already set so there was not much light to make out the silhouette. A niggling fear crept up her spine. Chiding her suspicious nature, Meagan decided not to move too quickly so as not to appear to have spotted the intruder. Instead, she called to the dogs and turned toward the house. Meagan dug in her pocket for the front door as she mounted the steps. With both dogs following, she entered the house and immediately bolted the door behind them. “Can’t be too careful,” she told the Curs. Peeking out of the curtain over the kitchen sink, Meagan didn’t see anyone. “Good,” she mused aloud. “Okay, guys, I’m going to take a hot bath and get in my jammies. Relax, and I’ll be back after I’m thoroughly wrinkled.”
The water running lulled Meagan as she undressed. Copper came in the bath and plopped down on the mat near the tub – her protector – always near. Absently, she scratched his head as her mind wandered back to the large dog which managed to escape capture at the shelter that afternoon. “He certainly was a captivating animal,” she whispered to the bathroom mirror. “I wonder where he came from?”
Copper barked sharply. His companion, Gracie chimed in quick as a wink. Sloshing water, Meagan grabbed the thin robe off the door hook and headed up front to check on the disturbance. “What is it, guys? Did you hear a noise?” Glancing out the curtain as she spoke, Meagan searched the front yard in the light of a security light. “Nothing out there.” Turning, she examined each Cur carefully.
The Curs, ears tucked, lowered their heads.
“I need you two to be quiet for at least fifteen minutes. Do you suppose you can do that? Hum?”
Feeling sufficiently reprimanded, the two furry agitators curled up and settled their large heads on their crossed paws.
“Good people,” she praised. “I promise, I’ll be back soon.”
“Maybe now I can get a few minutes to relax,” she mumbled under her breath. Meagan’s head had no more touched the padded pillow resting on the rim of the antique claw-foot tub when she closed her eyes. The water’s warmth enveloped her aching muscles. “This is better she murmured. Letting the warmth lull her, Meagan drifted into sleep. The dream drew her in slowly.
Low humming noises filtered through her mind. Soon the hum was replaced by a low moan of sorts. The sound grew louder before shifting into a full-fledged weeping. Fitful in the throughs of sleep, Meagan saw dark shadows lying in rows. The figures tossed and turned. She called out to them. Their only response was crying. “Where am I?” Meagan could see a fire burning brightly in the center of the bodies, but little of its warmth reached her. Moans came from those bodies hunkered under their covers.
Soon, the fire blazed upward, and the roar of the flames drown out some of the misery. From the far end of the end of the rows, Meagan saw a wolf. His thick mane covered a broad chest. Walking toward her, his eyes blazed red in the darkness. Her mind said, “Run!” Try as she might, she couldn’t move. Something held her bound to the cot where she sat. The earth shook. A rumble moved down the rows of agony. Then, an explosion shook the ground. Bodies fell to the earth, ceasing to move. The breath of the wolf seared her back.
Meagan woke with a jolt. Moments passed before she recognized her surroundings. She was at Aubrie and Logan’s place, she remembered. Glancing down at the tub, she recalled wanting a bath. Her body tingled all over as if she had experienced the dream as a member of the dancers. Since the water had chilled, she eased up on her knees. Unsure of her balance, she waited a moment before rising to stand. Her heart beat faster than she was certain it should. Dazed and confused, she saw pieces of the dream came to her in flashes of memory. Each one different, but with one denominator. She had witnessed something pagan and probably evil. That much she felt confident yet uneasy about. Was there a sacrifice? The hairs on her arms wanted to stand. Gooseflesh followed. Her female intuition said she had witnessed a heathen ritual. Something unclean or vial. What in the gods’ name had the ceremony been?
Wrapped in a thick towel, Meagan went to find her pajamas and socks. The shiver was involuntary as she slipped into her sleep clothes. Something eerie happened in that dream. She couldn’t put a finger on the feeling, just that it had felt unnerving. Time for something to occupy her overactive imagination.
In the kitchen, she retrieved the frozen egg rolls and nuked them in the microwave. Settling down to watch a bit of television before bed, she switched on her favorite reality show, The Voice. Meagan didn’t share the fact she had a tremendous crush on one of the celebrity hosts, Blake Shelton. Her friends would think her silly. He was older than most men she found attractive. Still, his smile could curl her toes she decided.
The bump near the front door startled her. The Curs went into protect mode as Meagan peered out the window once more. On the porch stood an old friend of the family or maybe she should say a member of the family. Pilot was Aubrie Latimar’s shadow walker and protector extraordinary in his own right. He still had a few glitches when it came to appearing, disappearing and walking through walls. Perhaps tonight was one of those occasions.
Opening the door was the least she could do. “Pilot, what brings you by tonight?”
The shadow walker stood almost six feet two inches and sported a neon green seersucker suit with teal converses on his feet. His coal black top hat sat jauntily atop his head of wispy gray hair. “Just dropping by to check on you. Making sure everything’s all right. How are you, my dear Meagan?” Pilot afforded her a slight bow.
Meagan smiled. Pilot was unique and one of the few shadow walkers she enjoyed seeing. His demeanor always put her at ease. “All right. I’m glad to see you. Come in. I was settling in to watch The Voice.”
“One of my favorites. Do you mind if I join you?” His dusky eyebrows winged up with questions in his chalk pale face.
“Absolutely not. I’d love the company.” She shoved the storm door aside and stepped back. “It’s good to have someone to talk to besides the Curs.” Glancing down, she reached out giving Copper a good rub on the head.
“Oh, yes, to be sure. The Curs are talented guard dogs but say very little of interest, you know.”
Meagan laughed comfortably. It felt good to laugh, she mused. The day had not been one of her most stellar, so Pilot’s distraction was welcome. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink or eat?”
Pilot smiled waving her offer aside. “No, I’m fine. I have to watch my figure you know.” He gave her an insider wink and headed for the couch. “I just love Blake Shelton, don’t you?” he said as he settled in and adjusted the volume upward.
“Yes, I do.” Glad she had company, Meagan followed her guest back to the couch, settling in to enjoy the show. She felt the tension ease out of her shoulders as they watched the opening moments. Funny she should recognize it at all she decided. Her natural state of mind was to always be on her guard. Dropping down beside him, she accepted the remote when he offered. “Thanks for dropping by, Pilot.”
“My pleasure, Meagan. Sometimes, unexpected guests are just the bee's knees.”
Chapter 4
Dorran O’Hare scanned his target with an eye for trouble. His years as an operative in the Navy’s elite SEAL team provided him with a keen sense when it came to troubl
e.
The moonlight illuminated the front deck of the cozy country home and made the structure glow. Bare tree branches danced in time to the crisp breeze streaking around the southwest corner of the frame house. On the outside, everything was a picture right out of Martha Stewart. With his head on a swivel, Dorran examined the perimeter at thirty paces. The lights were all out. No sounds came from inside the quaint dwelling except the ticking of a grandfather clock near the entrance. Dorran’s six-foot shadow elongated in the moonlight. His acute hearing, a product of his life event impossibility allowed him that advantage. Confident, the girl was the only one home, he crept closer. No one would guess he was ever there. A skill set worthy of a freak show, but a skill set which saved his ass more times than he could count, kicked in. With the eyes of a werewolf and the speed of a vampire, he wasted no time in landing near the front door.
Again, he waited. No trouble here. Easy in and out, Dorran surmised as his tactical brain noted the proximity of shrubs and deck chairs. Scenting the air, he crossed off the possibility of security dogs lurking in the bushes and zeroed in on the door.
The former recon specialist planted a booted foot next to the door frame. Leaning down he slid the tool into the key hole, separating the basic lock from the door jam in a smooth as butter move he had learned from the best. Satisfied so far, Dorran eased open the door giving the hinges the tender love and care of a cat burglar.
He was in. Having permeated the premises, Dorran scanned the layout looking for potential threats. The stingy moonlight filtering through the front window blinds cast the room in long, ghoulish shades of black and white. Advancing to the middle of the room, he used his natural night vision to examine and adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings. Dorran listened again for any sound. A gentle snore was the only reply. As a newly created hybrid, he enjoyed his heightened hearing ability and vision. If being a freak meant he could do things no other supernatural creature could do, he guessed that had to be the up side to becoming a werewolf with vampire blood. His sense of smell, also a by-product of his freak show existence, kicked into high gear. If the Sultan were there, he would know immediately.
Room dimensions were determined and checked off. Exits were located and filed away. Interior doors to additional rooms were established. A large, stone fireplace anchored the living space flanked by comfortably worn leather coaches. The kitchen lay adjacent to the living room in an open floor plan. Not too many hiding places.
Dorran scanned the room again. His target, the Sultan, wasn’t there. He knew that the evil one was gone. There was no tell-tale sign of the demonic shadow walker, no musty odor oozing out of the floor boards.
Something flickered in his peripheral vision. Whirling, he threw his forearm up in time to block the blow coming in fast and furious. No two ways about it. The attacker was strong, yet not overly skilled. Dorran pivoted before clamping a steel grip around the attacker’s arm. In a flash, the attacker was hoisted in the air and over Dorran’s shoulder. The creature landed with a solid thud. Watching his assailant, Dorran wondered what costume party the fellow before him came from. He sported a suit resembling the colorful version of a late 19th century dandy.
“Ouch, that hurt.” The dandy attacker spoke as he slowly levered himself to a seated position. Rubbing the back of his head, he glanced around in dazed confusion. “My stars, where am I?”
Dorran witnessed the dandy’s pupils swell, covering most of his irises before receding to minor pinpoints in his eyeballs. Before Dorran could come up with something clever, the bedroom door flew open. Out came a young woman clad in a t-shirt welding a baseball bat. “Stand back,” she shouted from a braced stance, the t-shirt flirting with her upper thighs. Two large dogs bound out after her, snarling and snapping at Dorran. Her eyes never left Dorran. “Down!” she commanded the dogs.
Dorran wondered if they understood. Both continued to growl viciously. He would have given them the eye - a werewolf’s calling card. It stopped dogs cold. There wasn’t time.
Over their protest, she addressed him, “Who are you? What are you doing here?” The bat she held continued to waiver precariously above her head. She looked fragile yet serious as the bat swam in the air above her dark head. A pint-sized Babe Ruth, he mused. Pretty sure, she’d use the impromptu weapon if he didn’t give her the truth, Dorran opened his mouth to speak.
She shifted into the moonlight.
Words wouldn’t come out. It was her, the woman from the shelter, the one who had saved his life.
The dogs’ continued barking grew in volume exponentially. The black dog stood next to the woman, his snarl sounding lethal as his teeth popped in protest.
“Pilot, are you all right?” The woman’s eyes never left Dorran as she called to the dandy.
“I think so.” The dandy named Pilot stood with caution and adjusted his vest.
“You better call the cops, Pilot. Hurry,” the woman ordered as she eyed Dorran. “I asked you a question, mister. What are you doing breaking into this house?”
Dorran stared unable to form a sentence or utter a simple I’m sorry.” This was the same woman from the shelter earlier that day, the same slender built, porcelain skinned beauty with the dark curls and enormous mocha eyes. She had saved his life most probably and without meaning to, set him free. “Easy. I don’t mean you any harm. I’m looking for someone.”
“Yeah, well they aren’t here. The police soon will be, though. Park it over there.” She waved the bat toward the couch and didn’t flinch.
The dogs picked up on the tension in her demand and snarled in response.
“Copper, Gracie, sit!”
Though the dogs obeyed, the control in her command had Dorran sliding near the couch.
“You got thirty seconds to tell me who you’re looking for.”
Dorran’s mouth had gone dry. His brain wouldn’t get past the fact she was here in front of him. Slowly he raised his hands. “It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is. Spill it – now.”
The woman was a steadfast badass he decided despite her compact package. Her package was certainly easy to look at. Still, he had to admit, there was no denying her solid nerves of steel when faced with a break-in. “Would you please point that bat somewhere else?”
“First, some answers. Who the hell are you looking for, mister?” At three in the morning?”
“It’s complicated.” Dorran registered the flat line her lips made following his repeated statement. Not one of his better introductions for sure. “All right, but you asked for it. I’m looking for a shadow walker. You know him by the name Sultan. He’s wanted for human trafficking, and I intend to take him in.” He eased a hand down toward his jeans before she waved the bat at him once more. “I’m reaching for my badge. That’s all. I’m a bounty hunter.”
She cocked her head as she continued to glare at him. Nodding, she pointed with the end of the bat. “Make it real slow, or you’ll need a cast for that hand.”
Dorran nodded. Yep, a real badass. “Okay, here.” He retrieved his credentials and tossed them over to her. The plop of the pouch containing his badge landing on the floor echoed in the room which had suddenly grown silent.
It was Pilot who picked up the leather sleeve and opened it. “He’s telling the truth, Meagan.” Pilot handed her the badge.
Meagan, what a perfect name, Dorran decided.
Meagan flicked a quick glance at his verification before her gaze returned to his face. “What makes you think he’s here, Dorran O’Hare?”
His name on her lips sounded sweet and sexy at the same time. His gut clenched. “He has a chip embedded in him following his last visit to prison. We have a tracking system set up to narrow the search area. His last coordinates put him here.”
With a vague frown, Meagan lowered the bat. Immediately the dogs dropped to the floor, chins resting on their paws. “I saw someone around dusk. He appeared out of nowhere roughly two hundred yards from the barn down the property line. I c
an’t be sure it was the Sultan. I didn’t see his face. Since the house I’m sitting for is the Latimars and the portal to the Netherworld is within spitting distance, there’s a good chance it was him. I didn’t hang around long enough to verify his identity.” Her scowl turned inward as she shook her head. “Was it you instead?”
“No. It wasn’t me. I just got here.” Meagan rattled off the info like an old pro. This wasn’t her first rodeo by any stretch of the imagination. He recalled J.T. Leighton telling him she was schooled in paranormal activity. Her explanation played for him. She didn’t attempt to explain any of the supernatural details, he guessed she expected him to know where the Netherworld’s opening was located and who the Latimars were, which Dorran did. “Better safe than sorry always works for me.” Neither of them replied. Left him hanging, so he ventured into deeper water. “I was hoping to find him lurking nearby. His coordinates still point to this location. Mind if I look around some?”
As if suddenly chilled, Meagan rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “No, go ahead, but make it quick.” Without another glance in his direction, she headed for the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. If you want some, I’ll make extra.” Behind her Pilot let out a shaky breath.
“Thanks, I will. Again, I’m sorry.” Dorran waited a beat, his hand on the door knob.
Meagan nodded, her chin rising past level. “Just another day in Crazy Ville. Right?”
His grin came automatically. On this companionable observation, they could agree. Meagan had surmised his opinion perfectly – Crazy Ville it was. Sometimes his whole world came off as straight out of a B-rated boogie man movie. His conscious tugged at his focus and had him wanting to take this bad-ass angel in his arms to comfort. A move totally out of character for him as he saw females as off limits. Being half werewolf containing vampire blood made for an interesting fighting capability but cozying up to a female proved taboo unless she was into some seriously kinky shit. Too much drama. “Still, my apologies.”
“It’s okay. We all figured he would come snooping around again. I’d feel better if you found him. I expect he’s long gone by now though.”
Blood Born Page 3