The Bobcat's Tate

by Georgette St. Clair

  The last thing she’d heard was Schuyler’s furious voice, yelling as if from a million miles away.

  Let go of my sister!

  Megan used her feet to thump on the side of the van. Maybe someone would hear her.

  “Be quiet back there!” Hamilton yelled from the driver’s seat.

  “What are you doing? Why did you kidnap me? I said I didn’t want to go with you.”

  “That psychic, that bitch, she’s going to ruin everything. Rainbow Moonbitch. That whore. She’ll tell everybody what I’ve done. She’ll tell.”

  He was talking about what had happened to Portia, Megan realized. The psychic was supposed to reveal Portia’s whereabouts. Hamilton obviously had killed Portia, and he was afraid that the psychic would implicate him.

  “I can’t stay here anymore, and I didn’t want to go by myself,” Hamilton said. “I don’t like to be alone. I’ve never liked to be alone. My mother used to leave me alone. For days and days. Alone, alone, alone…”

  “Your mother? Betsy Hooper? No way.”

  “That’s Hamilton’s mother. I’m not Hamilton. I’m a much better actor than he is.”

  Megan was silent for a minute, stunned. When this man came to town and told everyone he was Hamilton, nobody had any reason to question him…but Hamilton had left town thirty years ago. Nobody knew what Hamilton would look like these days, and Hamilton’s mother’s brain was completely addled with dementia.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Stay calm, she told herself. Panicking will only make things worse. “Why did you bring Schuyler with us? I’m the one you want.”

  “You’ll be much more Hooperative with your sister here. If you do what I say, she doesn’t get hurt.”

  Megan’s heart swelled with dread. Hamilton was crazy. Stone cold crazy. How could she protect her sister if she was trapped in human form? “You don’t need her. She’ll just slow us down. Let her go. Just pull over and leave her by the side of the road.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. And now, you will be quiet. If you care about me you’ll be quiet. You care about me, don’t you?”

  I’ll find a way to shift and I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth, Megan thought, choking with fury. Out loud, she said “Yes,” and then fell silent.

  Next to her, Schuyler was starting to stir.

  * * *

  “We’ll find them,” Loch said grimly. “We’ve got choppers in the air, we’ve got highway patrol and deputies on every road.”

  He sat behind his desk, frantically working the phones, the bones on his face rippling as he struggled to stay human.

  Tate was pacing angrily back and forth, out of his mind with worry. He should be out searching for his sisters, but where? Hamilton, or rather, the man pretending to be him, had been spotted driving off the grounds of the mansion, but nobody knew which direction he’d gone.

  Detectives were at the imposter’s rented house, pulling it apart in a desperate search for clues. They’d already radioed back to report they’d found a safe hidden under the floorboards, and they’d blasted the safe open and found piles of jewelry in there. They suspected that the man pretending to be Hamilton had been switching the real jewelry from the store with fake jewelry.

  They were also in communication with police in Los Angeles, who were searching the house Hamilton had lived in out there.

  “I’ve got to go,” Tate said desperately, pacing the floor of Loch’s office. His wolf was clawing inside him, and he had to force it back down. He needed to be human now, to think clearly; if he let his beast break free, furious as he was, he’d be a wild, raging monster, likely to turn on whoever was closest to him. “I can’t just sit here on my ass. I’ve got to go find them.”

  “I understand, Tate, but we have no idea which direction they went,” Loch said.

  The door to the office opened, and Tate jumped, swinging towards it with a growl. His family was in danger. His vision swam red and black, and he wanted to kill.

  It was Lainey. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm.

  She was talking, and he could barely hear a word, with the fear and anger roaring in his head.

  “Tate, listen to me. Listen. Are you with me?” she said urgently.

  “I’m—yes. What is it?” He tried not to snap at her.

  “The Cypress Woods Witch. When she was talking to me in the car, she warned me about the wolf in sheep’s clothing. She said that he wanted to take the lambs deep into the earth, where the river runs red,” Lainey said. “So let’s say this guy is the black sheep, and Megan and Schulyer were the lambs–how would he take them deep into the Earth? What’s the red river?”

  Loch leaped to his feet.

  “The Crimson Caves!” Tate shouted. “There’s a tunnel system that leads to a river. The mineral deposits make the river look red.”

  He and Loch practically made scorch marks as they raced outside to Loch’s car.

  Loch radioed the dispatch center as they peeled out of the parking lot, shouting instructions.

  Tate clutched at the arm of the seat, then realized that his nails had turned to claws and he was shredding the upholstery. What he wanted to do was sink those nails, and his fangs, into the kidnapper’s flesh. His vision swam with fury as he imagined the taste of Hamilton’s blood, laying open his neck to the bone, Hamilton lying beneath him in a pile of unrecognizable flesh…

  He dimly realized that he’d shifted, that he was a massive gray wolf shaking with murderous fury in the seat of Loch’s car, and Loch was saying something on the phone.

  He forced himself to shift back, his fangs receding into his gums, his skin going smooth, claws disappearing into his fingers. Shreds of upholstery and yellow chunks of foam were scattered on his lap and on the floor.

  Loch was slowing to a stop in the parking lot by the trail that led to the Crimson Caves. Other deputy’s cars were pulling in at the same time.

  Loch’s face was set in grim lines as he tossed the cell phone onto the dashboard and parked.

  “What?” Tate yelled at Loch.

  Loch didn’t answer, just scrambled out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and Tate followed suit, almost naked, the shreds of his clothing hanging off him.

  “What is it? Tell me!” Tate demanded.

  “The police in L.A. found blood splatter in Hamilton’s home. They also found fingerprints in that house which match the fingerprints we ran in the jewelry store – they’re the fingerprints of a coyote shifter from Missouri, Bernard Lambert, who is wanted in connection with the disappearance of a half-dozen young men and women.”

  Without another word, Tateshifted into wolf form, not bothering to strip his clothing off first.

  He could feel the rage rippling through his body. Now was the time to unleash his beast; he’d tear the flesh clean off Hamilton’s bones.Loch shifted, too, and the men dashed off into the woods, ears tucked back against their heads, fur bristling with fury, followed by a pack of deputies. Their howls of rage tore through the air.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Megan sucked in gulping breaths of humid summer air. They paused in front of the gaping entrance to the Crimson Caves. The imposter, who said his name was Bernard, had parked his car, hauled them out, and marched them through the woods. He had a backpack slung on his back and carried the tranquilizer dart gun in his hand, not that he needed it. He’d been right; with Schuyler there, Megan wouldn’t try to fight.

  Megan’s wrists itched and stung as if she wore bracelets of poison ivy. She’d struggled to free her wrists from the copper wire, with no luck. The sun beat down on them, and sweat poured down Megan’s face, plastering her hair to her head. They were all breathing hard. He’d made them march double-time, glancing over his shoulder frequently.

  Bernard still looked as handsome as a movie star, but now Megan could see the craziness blazing in his eyes. How had she missed it before? Had it always been there? She shuddered to think of the few times they’d kissed, his hand cup
ping her face, tongue caressing hers. Now in memory, she thought of a viper wriggling in her mouth.

  “All right, kids,” Bernard said with a mad, fake cheer in his voice. “Into the tunnels we go.”

  “They’ll find us, you jackass. They’ll follow our scent,” Megan snapped.

  “Of course they will, sooner or later. This is the end for me. I’ve been running so long, and now I’m at the end of the road.” His voice was high and sing-song. “You’ll be with me at the end. It’s the end for us. I don’t want to be alone.”

  He looked at the cave mouth, dripping with green vines as sinuous as writhing snakes. It yawned open like a hungry mouth which would swallow them whole.

  His voice turned flint-hard and angry. “Let’s go.”

  Megan steeled herself. This was it, then. She’d have to make a stand. If they went in there, they’d never come out.

  “No,” she said firmly. She’d have to attack him in human form, hands tied behind her back, which was suicide, of course. She’d do her best to distract him while Schuyler ran for it. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was all she had. She’d give it everything she had. She’d go down fighting.

  She felt Schuyler behind her back, felt her sister fall against her hands, her fur rubbing against her, her cold wet snout nuzzling her.

  Wait, her fur? Her wet nose? How the hell had she shifted?

  Schuyler nipped at the copper wire binding Megan’s hands, yelping in pain as her mouth came in contact with it. Megan could feel the wire tearing. Bernard’s eyes went wide with shock and rage.

  “What are you doing? Stop that.” Bernard raised the tranquilizer gun.

  Megan lashed out with her right foot, kicking the gun from his hand, and lashed out again, tripping him as he lunged for the gun. She kicked madly at him as he lay on the ground, catching him in the jaw and wrenching a howl of agonized rage from his throat.

  “Schuyler, run!” she screamed, as Bernard scrambled to his feet. Her hands were almost free.

  In the distance, she heard the baying of wolves. Furious wolves. The baying rapidly drew closer.

  Bernard jumped on her, knocking her to the ground, and shifted into coyote form. His eyes were balls of red fire, and saliva dripped from his jaws.

  Schuyler, in cub form, flew through the air and bit Bernard on his flank. Bernard swung around wildly, sending Schuyler flying into the bushes, where she landed with a thud and scrambled upright. She threw her head back and howled, a call to her pack, a desperate cry for help.

  Answering howls sounded in the bushes, but Bernard launched himself at Megan again. She’d managed to get up on her knees, but he knocked her down onto the dirt, and his jaws were snapping at her throat, and howls filled the air, and…chaos.

  He fell off her. It looked as if the air was filled with gray fur. Massive, flying beasts, all jaws and teeth and wild eyes. The cavalry had arrived.

  Megan rolled away, finally ripped through the remaining shreds of copper wire, and shifted to wolf form. She heard screams, wet, bubbling screams. Her brother and Loch and deputies from the station had all shifted, and they were a boiling pile of fur. She couldn’t see Bernard underneath the pile, but she could hear his agonized death wails.

  Staggering, she looked around wildly for Schuyler. Schuyler was standing in the bushes, shivering hard, eyes wild, tongue lolling.

  She jerked her head at Schuyler, and they dashed away, out of the clearing.

  Once they were back by the roadside where Bernard had abandoned his car, they found highway patrol cars and more deputies pulling up. Both girls shifted back into human form and accepted oversized blankets from the deputies, which they wrapped around themselves as they waited for Tate and Loch to come out of the woods.

  Schuyler’s lip was split and bleeding. Megan could feel her own mouth throbbing, and her legs were scraped and oozing blood. She and Schuyler were filthy and muddy, but they were alive. It was an amazing miracle. They were alive.

  Megan was weak with relief, her heart pounding a million miles a minute.

  A deputy handed them both cold bottles of water, and they sucked at them greedily, until the bottles were empty.

  “How the heck did you do that?” Megan marveled to her sister. “How did you get loose from the copper wire?”

  “I told you I can do magic tricks like Houdini. I’ve been practicing escape tricks for months now. I have the other kids tie me up with clothesline and then I get out of it.” Schulyer stuck her tongue out at her. “Dummy.”

  Good old Schuyler, always a brat, even under the most desperate circumstances.

  For once, Megan didn’t mind.

  * * *

  Tate felt as if a million-ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Earlier, when he and Loch had heard Schuyler’s howls, he’d feared they’d be too late. He’d surely broken land speed records tearing through the woods, and the sight of Megan and Schuyler under attack from that coyote…he took a deep breath to calm himself.

  They were at the hospital, in a curtained-off room in the E.R. Megan sat patiently on her bed as a nurse practitioner dabbed salve on her stinging wrists where they’d been bound with the copper wire. Schulyer sat less patiently next to her, receiving the same treatment from a doctor, and yelping in protest.

  At Megan’s pleading, he’d allowed Frank to come to the hospital room with him, although he deliberately placed himself between the two of them and shot Frank hostile, warning looks.

  “I feel like this is partly my fault,” Tate said.

  “So I’m not in trouble?” Megan asked hopefully.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Tate said. “You snuck around behind my back, you got involved with a man without my approval, and that is why you ended up being kidnapped by a serial killer. And your sister got caught up in it, too.”

  Megan wilted visibly. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

  The nurse and doctor had finished, and they left the room, leaving Tate glowering at Megan. He was relieved and furious at the same time.

  “Do you understand that I actually care about your welfare, and I might occasionally know what I’m talking about?”

  “You didn’t when it came to Frank,” Megan said heatedly.

  “Tell him,” Frank urged her.

  “Tell me what?” Tate asked, alarm rippling through him. “Oh, my God. Are you expecting cubs?” He’d kill Frank. He’d kill him right there in the emergency room.

  “No,” Megan said, looking horrified.

  “Then what?”

  Megan glowered. “I know you aren’t going to believe me, but…Frank and I are fated mates.”

  The words hit him like thunderbolts. No. This couldn’t be true. Megan, a fated mate of a Sinclair?

  “Even though we’re fated mates, you told me to break it off with him, so I tried,” she said, her face crumpling in misery as she spoke. “I thought maybe you’d approve of Hamilton. He’s older, a successful businessman…well, that’s what I thought he was, anyway. So I was sneaking off to meet him, and trying really hard to make myself fall in love with him, but it didn’t work.”

  “But…but…” Tate groaned, running his hands through his hair. He glanced over at Frank. “Frank’s a major player,” he argued.

  “I was until I met Megan,” Frank admitted. “I haven’t looked at another girl since I met her, and I never will again. Even if I couldn’t be with her, I would never touch another woman. It’s Megan or no one.”

  Megan was positively simpering now, glowing. Schuyler made a gagging motion, sticking her fingers in her mouth as if she was making herself barf.

  “He’s such a jerk, his own family won’t speak to him,” Tate protested. “Think about it, Megan. He’s been rejected by the Sinclairs, the biggest jerks in all of Florida.”

  “No, idiot, you think about it,” Megan said angrily. “He doesn’t get along with them because, unlike his father, he’s not a douchebag. Schuyler, you did not hear that word.. Frank, tell him what you and your dad were fighting
about.”

  “It started when these kids were picking on a nearsighted wolf at our school, and I put a stop to it,” Frank said. “My dad said it was survival of the fittest for shifters. He wanted me to actually challenge that little runty kid. I told dad the kid wouldn’t survive five seconds, and dad said that was the point.”

  Tate felt anger rising inside him, choking him at the thought. He could picture Quincy saying that, clear as day.

  “It went on from there, dad telling me to toughen up all the time, but his version of being tough is kicking weaker people’s butts just to prove that I can. I wouldn’t do it. I moved out and got a job cooking at a restaurant, and I support myself now.” He looked at Tate with a mixture of defiance and hope. “I joined the army. They’re going to pay for my college education, and I’m going into the restaurant business. I’ll own a restaurant some day. I could support Megan, too.”

  “But…you vandalized the wedding grounds. And my truck I smelled your scent.” This was crazy. What was happening here?

  Frank’s gaze dropped to the ground.

  “Tell him,” Megan ground out. Frank remained silent.

  “That wasn’t Frank,” she said. “That was his aunt Aurora. She’s angry at our family because she feels like you got her booted off the shifter council, and Loch embarrassed them all when he wouldn’t marry Portia. She used scentsbane to mask her scent. Frank was following her around trying to head her off, which is why you smelled his scent at some of the places that were vandalized. Sometimes she’d manage to slip away from everybody, like when she ruined the flower beds and when she vandalized your truck.”

  Tate’s head was reeling. He knew Megan was telling the truth.

  If she and Frank were fated mates, he couldn’t stand between that. He knew how he felt about Kat. It would kill him if he couldn’t be with her.

  “But…” he protested feebly. “You’re too young.”

  “Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts,” she reminded him. “They married right after they graduated.”

  She and Frank stared at him, eyes shining with hope.