Touch the Sky

by Kari Cole

  “So, what’s with the fake name?” Jessie asked. Jeez, with the questions. Sheriff Mega-Hottie should hire her.

  “You didn’t tell anyone who I really am, did you?” Hannah asked. “Or that we’re related?”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. “No, but I might if you don’t start talking.”

  Hannah hated lying—frankly, she stank at it, even when dealing with people who couldn’t smell her made-up nonsense. But necessary evils and all that. Thankfully, she’d planned ahead for this one. Maybe she’d even be able to pull it off.

  “Let’s just say, I got involved with the wrong man,” she said. “Certain alphabet soup agencies might be looking for him.”

  “What? Are you kidding?”

  “No, ma’am. A real loser. So, I thought it’d be better to make myself scarce for a little while.” She held up her gloved hands. “I don’t want the government looking too closely at why I require such unseasonable accessories in the middle of an Atlanta summer.”

  “Lord, help us, no.” Jessie shuddered.

  Thank the goddess. Hannah had been banking on that reaction. No one wanted to deal with the human intelligence agencies.

  Before she could say anything else, Jessie said, “I assume your daddy’s dealing with it.”

  An icy chill filled Hannah’s veins, despite the clear blue sky and shining sun. Thoughts of her father did that a lot now.

  “Hannah? Are you all right? You’ve gone pale as milk.”

  Frost stood and sniffed her, giving her a thorough once-over.

  “Hmm? Oh.” Hannah gave an awkward laugh and gently pushed him away. She couldn’t afford to get bogged down in all that now. Besides, Jessie might not help if she knew the truth of what happened in Atlanta. “I’m fine. Just leaned too much and tweaked my side, that’s all. So. How long do you think it’ll be before I get control of my ability?”

  Jessie stared at her for a few seconds, then said, “Explain to me again what happened.”

  Hannah breathed a silent sigh of relief. “I don’t know. It was just like any other day. I was fine. Then I felt sick, like really, horribly, grossly sick. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor twitching.” She peeked at her cousin and whispered, “There might have been drool.”

  “Ew. That’s embarrassing. What did you touch?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Hmm, it might. If it was something imbued with a strong aura. A family heirloom or a deeply personal object.”

  Hannah considered how much of the truth she could share. “I shook someone’s hand. He was wearing a ring, but it happened when I got a cart at the grocery store, too. I hardly think that qualifies.”

  “This happens no matter what you touch?”

  “For the most part. Sometimes I just get woozy.”

  A door banged open and Frost hopped to his feet, pale amber eyes fixed on the back door of the healer’s house. High-pitched shrieks rang in the still morning air as two towheaded boys ran down the porch steps.

  The boys looked about five or six years old and were absolutely adorable. The bigger one even had blond curls. They tumbled over one another to reach the slide ladder, pushing each other good-naturedly. When they got there, the younger boy mock-growled and scrabbled right over his brother’s back, a huge grin across his angelic face.

  “Goddess, could they be any cuter?” Hannah’s fingers twitched from how badly she wanted to tousle their hair. Playing with the pack’s pups had always been one of her favorite activities. How she missed it.

  “Ha! Don’t let their cherubic looks fool you,” Jessie said. “They are the scourge of the county. I have heart palpitations every time they come into the nursery. My poor flowers.”

  The smaller boy howled from the top of the slide and waved at them as he whooshed down it. As soon as his sneakered feet hit the ground, he yelled, “Doggie!”

  Frost twitched and looked at Hannah. The expression in his eyes seemed so conflicted.

  “I’m fine,” she said. From the tilt of his head, she didn’t think he believed her. “I swear. I’ll stay right here. Honest. Go ahead.”

  A red rubber ball hit the iron coffee table in front of them with a loud bong and the wolf danced in place.

  Hannah held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. I won’t move.”

  With a leap over the table, Frost launched himself after the ball. The boys yelled in triumph as he bounded toward them, lethal retriever at work.

  Jessie shook her head. “One: you were never a scout of any kind. Two: what’s the deal with that wolf?”

  “He’s my friend.”

  “And?”

  “And how do you propose I get my ability under control?”

  For a few moments, Jessie glared at Hannah. But Hannah didn’t care. No stern look would intimidate her. She shouldn’t indulge, but she was just so happy. It didn’t matter that this moment couldn’t last. The sun was rising in a clear, blue sky. Birds were singing in the trees, while laughing children played with a “dog,” and she had a blooded family member at her side. She’d take her joy where she could find it.

  “Fine!” Jessie huffed. “Fine. Ignore my questions. Take off your gloves.”

  The abrupt order flustered Hannah. “What?”

  “You heard me. Take ’em off, cousin mine. You want me to teach you. Show me what’s happening. Let me see firsthand what’s going on.”

  Hannah blinked stupidly at Jessie’s outstretched palm.

  Jessie rolled her eyes. “I want you to touch the chair while I hold your other hand. If you’re really as open as you say, I should be able to glimpse the impressions you’re getting. It won’t be anything but an echo of what you see, but I can get an idea, a taste if you will, of things.”

  “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “I do. Let’s go.” She made a come on gesture. “Off with the gloves.”

  Stomach churning, Hannah looked at her fisted hands. She had to take several, slow, deep breaths before they relaxed enough to tug the gloves from them. She dropped the gloves in her lap and, with a huge gulp, reached out to clasp Jessie’s hand.

  It was the first time in months Hannah had touched another person skin-to-skin. A tremor worked its way through her.

  “All right,” Jessie said in a normal, impatient voice, as if Hannah wasn’t freaking out. “Now the chair.”

  The cool black armrest gleamed faintly in the golden sunlight. Fingers shaking, Hannah lowered her hand toward it. As soon as she made contact with the iron, she was lost.

  Every muscle clenched as images and emotions bombarded her. There were too many people to count. Humans, lycanthropes. Happy. Worried. Crying. Suffering. Pain. Adults. Squealing children. A tiny wolf pup. Birds. A scampering squirrel.

  Air exploded from her lungs as her chest collided with something hard. The ground. Cool, damp grass pressed against her cheek and she struggled for a breath.

  Rolling onto her side, she found Jessie next to her on the ground. The other woman panted like she’d run a marathon.

  Eyes wide as the full moon, Jessie stared at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it?

  * * *

  The bear’s scent grew worse the farther Vaughn and Dean tracked it through the forest, like filthy human and rancid meat.

  Dean sneezed. “That’s fuckin’ foul. What the hell could make it smell like that?”

  Vaughn didn’t answer as they sprinted through the trees. One: he didn’t know, except that it couldn’t be anything good. Two: he was currently running as a wolf.

  An extremely pissed wolf.

  His beast’s voice rumbled. Sick. Unclean.

  Invader. Killer, his eagle added.

  Yes. The creature they were hunting was all those things, no matter what it was. Only something d
eranged or evil could create the carnage at the Hendersons’ ranch. It didn’t belong here in their territory, or anywhere else decent people lived.

  Faster, Vaughn said, though he didn’t need to. His wolf knew the tracks were heading toward town as well as he did.

  Toward town and farms and people.

  Still, they couldn’t run as fast as they wanted. Dean wore his human skin. A necessity in case they encountered human tourists or needed to communicate with the department.

  There was another reason, one that rankled. This might be a trap. Like the one that had left Vaughn with silver bullet wounds.

  The creature had left an easy-to-follow path. Broken ferns and branches, torn up underbrush, clawed tree trunks, and gouged earth showed them the way.

  Almost too easy.

  “Could it be fae?” Dean asked as they hurdled a fallen lodgepole pine. “I’ve heard some of the dark ones are nasty.”

  Vaughn’s wolf grunted a negative, answering for him. They’d considered that scenario, too, but it didn’t smell right. Even the dark fae didn’t stink like carrion.

  Demon, his wolf suggested.

  Maybe. But while the bear stank, it wasn’t from sulfur.

  His grandfather, the pack’s healer before Sarah, had been a spiritual man. He believed in evil with a capital E and had taught Vaughn all the old stories: about spirits, gods, skin walkers, and demons. Grandfather said, “Evil has a presence, no matter the face it wears. It turns hope to despair; life to ash. You’ll know when you meet it.”

  Vaughn believed him. As a cop, he’d met it more times than he could stomach. Felt its terrible weight crushing the life from the people he was sworn to protect. Late at night, alone in his bed, the images of abused women and children, of men broken in horrific ways, turned his skin cold and clammy.

  He wished he could blame it all on some creature from the underworld. Something he could stop.

  Still, he’d never heard of or seen anything like this bear.

  They broke through a stand of western hemlock and giant cedar to the edge of the Kaniksu River. The path ended in a muddy hollow where the creature had apparently wallowed on the riverbank before wading into the water itself.

  A cunning animal might have swum downstream to throw any pursuers off its track. Not this one. Just a few yards away, the trail began again with a huge, five-toed claw print in the mud.

  “Jesus, we’re lucky no one was camping or fishing here this morning. We’re only a few miles from Margot Beach.” Dean pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed.

  Vaughn’s wolf growled low in its throat at the thought of all the easy prey the creature would find at the popular swimming hole. This time of year, tourists and local kids pitched tents along the mountain wall that curved around the protected inlet.

  They ran harder.

  Their relentless pace finally showed in Dean’s voice as he spoke on the phone. His breath became audible. So did a constant growl. “Luke, got a problem. Yeah, the bear. On its trail. Quarter mile west from Riker’s old place.” They jumped off the top of a small granite outcropping, and he grunted on the landing. “Following the river now. If it stays on this path—yeah. Many as you can.”

  The high-pitched beep of the call ending was followed by the rumble of a diesel engine. Damn it, they were within throwing distance of County Road 7. Too close. Too close to town and homes.

  The bear’s stench became pervasive, and Vaughn’s wolf curled his lip in disgust.

  They were gaining on it.

  They ran. Harder. Faster. The wolf’s claws digging into the dusty earth. Dean pounding behind him, slower on human feet, but impressively fast.

  The first screams reached them as they bolted across the road.

  Chapter Six

  Wet tongues lapped at Hannah’s face. More than one. “Ack! Frost, what the—umff?” Air exploded from her lungs as a little wolf no bigger than a loaf of Italian bread pounced on her chest. The pup’s mouth hung open, its tongue lolling in a lupine grin.

  “Oh my gosh.” She’d never seen such a young werewolf before. Most shapeshifters didn’t experience their first change until they hit puberty.

  She and Jessie still lay on the ground behind the clinic, breathing hard. But as the sweet pup cuddled into her and Frost stood tense guard over them, the crushingly intense images her abilities had forced on her drifted away like fog in the sun.

  “Aren’t you a love?” she asked, stroking her bare hands through the pup’s silky-soft fur.

  He licked her chin.

  “Looks like you found a friend, Frost.”

  Her companion gave her a forbearing look before sniffing both her and the pup. A snort ruffled the little one’s fur. Then, with a grumble, Frost sank gracefully to the ground at her right side, his chin across her shoulder. Another deep grousing noise before he nudged her jaw in rebuke.

  “I know. Sorry,” she said, giving him a scratch behind an ear. He hated when she collapsed.

  “Y’all are so weird,” Jessie said with a shake of her head.

  No argument there.

  The brindled gray pup smelled faintly of disinfectant and chamomile, like his mother, the healer. And like his mother, he was all about Hannah’s wounded side.

  The little werewolf hopped to the ground and nosed the bandages. A charming low growl vibrated his whole body. Lip curled back from tiny fangs, he met her eyes. It didn’t matter that she was so much bigger and older than him, the clear demand in his gaze tugged at a primal part of her psyche. A pint-sized Alpha in the making. He wasn’t hers, but out of consideration for his young feelings, she answered his unspoken question. “It was silver. But don’t worry, your mama fixed me up.”

  The look he sent her way was accusatory.

  “I did try to get out of the way.”

  Unimpressed with her efforts, the pup huffed. With care, he climbed back onto her chest and lay down like she was the most comfy bed in the world. As he licked her chin, she couldn’t help but laugh. Scolded by a dominant little wolf who probably couldn’t even tie his own shoelaces yet.

  A shadow moved across her face and Hannah looked up to see the older boy standing over them, a scowl on his adorable face. “Mommy said we’re not supposed to do that in front of strangers, Justin.”

  The little wolf sniffed and burrowed his head under Hannah’s chin. She held him close as she sat up, dislodging an annoyed Frost in the process. “My name is Ha—Cassandra. What’s yours?” she asked the boy.

  Big, blue eyes narrowed on her like he was trying to work out if this was a trap. After a moment he answered, “Nate.”

  “And your brother is Justin?”

  The eyes shrank to slits.

  “You said it before, sweetie,” she reminded him.

  “Oh. Uh-huh.”

  “Now, you know Ms. Jessie already, don’t you?”

  Blond curls bounced as he nodded. Jessie winked at the dear.

  “Well now, seems to me we’re not strangers anymore,” Hannah said.

  Nate nodded even more enthusiastically than before, sending those gorgeous curls into a jig. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from gushing all over him. He was so darn cute she couldn’t stand it.

  “But”—she held up a finger—“all the same, maybe you should”—before she could say any more, the little boy’s form shimmered and he fell to all fours—“ask your mother before shifting in front of anyone else.”

  Frost jumped to his feet in alarm and watched in twitching concern as the boy became a black wolf pup with a flash of white across his nose. A wolf pup that still wore a striped T-shirt and navy shorts.

  Another shadow hovered over them. Hannah glanced up to find Dr. Sarah Simmons standing over them, hands on hips.

  “Yes. Maybe they should,” Sarah said, her voice dry. Both pups yipped and squirmed, obviou
sly delighted their mother was there. Hannah set Justin down and he raced in circles around Sarah’s feet. Nate tried to keep up, but he kept tripping over his human clothes. Sarah rolled her eyes and plucked him off the ground. “Not only did you change in front of people who are not pack, in the middle of the yard, in daylight, but you left your clothes on.” To Hannah and Jessie, she said, “Do you know how many outfits they’ve ruined since they learned to shift?”

  Effortlessly, Sarah stripped Nate out of the shirt and shorts. She nipped him on the nose before setting him back on the ground. “Go on. Go play, you heathens.”

  The two tiny werewolves darted back and forth in front of Frost, then ran away for a game of chase. After a wave from Hannah, the timber wolf dashed after them.

  Sarah reached a hand down to Hannah. “Should I ask why you’re on the ground? More importantly, should I ask what you two were doing that made you convulse and fall onto the ground?”

  “Uh...” Hannah said as Sarah helped her to her feet.

  Sarah huffed. “Right. You better not have—” The opening guitar riff for Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf” rang from her pocket and she pulled out her cell phone. “Dean, can I—”

  Even a human would have been able to hear the deep, anxiety-filled male voice shout over the line. “Sarah, stay inside. Keep the boys ins—shit!”

  Multiple screams and the sound of metal things crashing came over the connection. Then, nothing.

  “Dean? Dean!” Wide blue eyes, the color of the morning sky, met Hannah’s. “You heard him. Come on. Move. Boys! Inside! Now!”

  Miraculously, both werewolves immediately stopped wrestling with Frost and ran for their house.

  Heart rate going triple-time, Hannah didn’t have to be told twice to get to safety either. She’d learned the hard way to listen to other people when they were afraid. Jessie apparently had learned the same painful lesson, and gestured for Hannah to hurry.

  Gunshots echoed.

  Tires screeched nearby.

  Faster, Hannah. Faster.