Blood Brothers (Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2)

by C. D. Hersh

Chapter 19

  Rhys paced the foyer floor, glancing nervously at his watch. Nine-forty-five. “Get a move on, Alexi,” he hollered. “We’re going to be late for your funeral.”

  “Not a phrase I ever expected to hear,” she said as she came down the stairs.

  She checked her blond hair in the mirror as Rhys peered over her shoulder. Lila Ramsey stared back at him. A chill iced him, making him shiver. He still hadn’t managed to adjust to Alexi’s voice coming from another body.

  He planted a kiss on her head. “I can’t wait to get the real you back.”

  “Dinna think that will happen, laddie,” Eli said from behind him. “Alexi canna show herself until we’ve solved the riddle o’ her attacker.”

  “Except when we handfast,” Rhys said. “I won’t marry you wearing another woman’s face. If the captain is giving her away, she has to keep her real form.”

  “Aye. I’ll allow it then, but the shades ’twill be drawn and only yer captain, Delaney, the two o’ you, and myself ’twill be present or know aboot the event.”

  “You can be you when we’re alone, making love,” Rhys whispered to Alexi. She blushed at his suggestion. “Can’t wait for tomorrow.”

  “You have to go somewhere else tonight,” she said. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

  “Got it all fixed. I still have my apartment. I’ll sleep there, but after we’re married, I’m getting rid of it.”

  “Not a guid idea. You need tae keep it for appearance sake. ’Twould seem odd if ye take up residence in Alexi’s hoose.”

  “It won’t if you’re here, old man?”

  “The reading o’ Alexi’s fake will leaves the hoose tae me. ’Tis only natural I should stay here. Besides, I’m the logical one tae protect the lassie.”

  The old coot’s audacity galled Rhys. He was Alexi’s protector. But Eli and Delaney had overruled him. To throw the killer off track, he had to go to his job and pretend to mourn his homicide partner’s death. Eli was even suggesting Rhys shift into his form whenever he came to Alexi’s house after the funeral, so no one would see the real Rhys entering.

  As much as he knew the necessity of everything, he didn’t like all the secrecy, but he’d do what he had to in order to keep Lexi safe. Even if it meant sacrificing his own life.

  Riverside Cemetery sat awash in golden leaves and autumn sunlight. Alexi’s resting place lay under a green tent about thirty feet from the narrow blacktop road winding around the graveyard. Rows of folding chairs facing east sat in front of the tent, awaiting mourners who planned to stay for the service. A copse of trees, scarlet and orange leaves fluttering in the breeze, stood about sixty feet southwest of the gravesite.

  Rhys exited the car, sending out feelers for the other shifters in the area. Eli, Delaney, Alexi, all near him, came in strong. Beside the green tent next to the newly dug grave and surrounding the hearse behind their car, he sensed the funeral director’s people. Lined along the path he picked out Sylvia and over a dozen other shifters. The sensation of so many nearly overpowered him. He rubbed his right temple where the blood vessel pulsed.

  “Are ye all right, laddie?” Eli gently touched his arm.

  “There are too many shifters here. I need a minute.” He concentrated on each shifter he’d identified, sorting out their presence until he could categorize where each one stood and push it to background. After a few moments, he had them all organized in his mind and had reduced the tingling their presence created to a dull crawling across his skin. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Eli motioned to the funeral director, who opened the hearse and extracted the casket. Six policemen moved alongside the casket and lifted it from the stand. The riderless horse, with black boots facing backward in the stirrups, symbolizing Alexi’s looking back on her family one last time, followed the casket toward the gravesite.

  As they passed his truck, Rhys spoke to Alexi, who still sat inside. “Stay here. Don’t leave for any reason. I’ve got you on my shifter radar, and if anything happens I’ll be back in a flash.”

  “Don’t worry,” she answered. “There’s no way I’m getting any closer.”

  As he walked away from her, dried leaves crunched beneath his feet, spreading a moldy scent around him. He breathed in the aroma, which until today had always been a pleasant one. Now the odor of autumnal death made him uneasy. He searched for Alexi. The sensation connecting him to her stayed steady. Relaxing, he realized he could keep her sorted out from the crowd.

  The pallbearers placed the casket outside the tent alongside the green carpet prepared for the viewing. The police honor guard marched their way to the rear of coffin and stood at attention. Rhys went to the head of the casket, and Captain Williams took his place at the middle. Positioned this way they figured they could keep nosey viewers from getting too close. Eli stood next to Rhys as an old family friend, prepared to introduce Rhys to the shifters who had come to pay respects to Alexi.

  “Ready?” the captain asked.

  “As I’ll ever be.” Rhys signaled to the funeral director, who opened the casket and intoned instructions to the waiting people.

  The shifters came through in a group. As each one shook Rhys’ hand he saw the surprised reaction to his touch. They knew, as surely as he recognized them, he was a shifter.

  They clumped around him, effectively blocking visual and audible introductions from non-shifter mourners.

  “This ’tis Rhys Temple,” Eli explained. “Alexi’s homicide partner and Baron Jordan’s friend.”

  The emphasis on the word friend was not lost on the shifters. Comments such as, “Any friend of a Jordan, is a friend of mine,” and “Glad to see Baron finally got back into the life,” flowed as freely as their condolences on his loss. He decided friend must be a shifter euphemism for mentee. He didn’t contradict Eli, thanking them for coming.

  Worming her way as close to the casket as she could get, Sylvia buried herself among his precinct co-workers.

  As she neared Eli she eyed him. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Eli, nor all the others.”

  Eli stared her down. “Should be nae surprise. The Jordan family ’tis important tae all o’ us. But I dinna think ye cared much for them, not after what ye did.”

  Hand to her breast, she pinned on a pained expression. “That hurts. I loved Baron and his family.”

  “Then I pity those ye claim affection for.” A low rumble, reminiscent of an irritated bear, escaped from Eli.

  Sylvia must have heard it, too, because a slightly satisfied smirk inched across her lips. “Luckily, you’re not one of them.”

  He actually growled at her.

  Rhys jabbed his elbow at the old man. “You’re holding up the line, Agent Riley.”

  She moved away from Eli and stood in front of Rhys, resting her hand on his coat sleeve. “I’m sorry about Alexi.”

  The shifter tingle grew as she touched him. Sorting through it, he tried to figure out if it matched the one he’d experienced at the hospital the day Alexi nearly died. He wasn’t able to make a positive identification.

  If I’d gone after the shifter I might have caught them. Not for the first time, he berated himself over his actions. Eli might be a strong shifter, but he could outrun the old man. He’d have caught the SOB who tried to kill the woman he loved.

  Surprise showed on Sylvia’s face. “You don’t like me much, do you?”

  Rhys tried to close off his feelings. She probably sensed the hatred rolling from inside him. “I can’t say you’ve given me much reason to, Agent Riley, but I do thank you for coming today.” With that statement, he dismissed her.

  From his spot in the grove of trees, Roc watched the procession of mourners and uniformed cops pay their respects. Hidden behind the cover of tree trunks, he was far enough away he couldn’t sense the shi
fters. He removed a pair of binoculars from his jacket pocket, looped the vinyl cord over his head, and searched for the casket. When he had it in his sights, he swung to the left and nearly dropped the binoculars.

  His double stood at the head of the casket.

  Moving the binoculars aside, he blinked to clear his vision, then refocused on his double. The man didn’t only look like him, he was him, from his black hair down to his broad shoulders and trim hips. He wore a full dress policeman’s uniform. Except for their tastes in clothes, they were identical. No wonder Sylvia had given him the once over the first time she’d seen him.

  As he inspected the receiving line, Sylvia came into view, and he watched as his double’s eyes shuttered when he spoke to her. The man didn’t like her much. He could see that even this far away. Besides screwing the guy while pretending to be someone else, he wondered what she’d done to elicit such a negative reaction. Of course, that would have been enough to set him off on her, too. As she paid her respects to the body in the casket, he watched her fiddle with the brooch on her shoulder, then speak to the policeman standing at the middle of the casket. He gave her a perfunctory nod, apparently as disenchanted with her as his double had been.

  Adjusting the focus on the binoculars, he watched the rest of the mourners pass and take seats in front of the tent. When everyone paid their respects, the honor guard shifted positions as the funeral attendants rolled the casket into the tent and closed the lid, draping a flag over the top. His double took a seat on the end of the front row closest to the road. A flash, at the edge of the grass, caught his eye and he swung his gaze toward it. The window on one of the vehicles parked along the blacktop circling the cemetery, twinkled in the sunlight. Roc tightened the focus as the window rolled down. Who would sit in a car while a funeral was going on?

  As a female came into view, his heart pounded.

  Lila!

  But how? She was dead-by his hand.

  He jerked the binoculars away and rubbed his eyes. His mind had to be playing tricks on him. First his double and now Lila? Adjusting the focus, he looked again.

  The woman stared straight at him. Lila sat in a black truck less than one hundred feet away from him. Long blond hair, caught on a breeze, lifted out the passenger window. She scooped it behind her ear with a motion he knew all too well.

  Lila! Alive!

  Roc dropped the binoculars from his hand, and they swung against his chest as he left the trees and circled around through the graveyard, careful to stay the thirty feet away Sylvia had warned him about. He didn’t want a riot of shifters to break out if he encroached on sacred ground, but he had to get to Lila. Had to apologize for strangling her. Let her know he was wrong. Tell her he knew she wasn’t trying to take over his body. Find out where, and why, his father had hidden her from him.

  The thought that his father had betrayed him blazed through his mind, fueling his frenzy to reach her and blinding him to everything surrounding him.

  Something moved on the periphery. Rhys tuned out the minister’s droning message and cocked his head to the right as a new tingling sensation crawled across his flesh. A quick check of the mourners showed everyone where he’d last sensed them. Glancing to the left, he saw Alexi-Lila-peering out of the car window, arms resting on the metal window opening, her chin propped on her folded arms. No one stood near her.

  Rotating to the right, he honed in on the prickly feeling getting stronger by the minute. Whatever it was, it was coming fast. He swiveled in his chair, searching.

  Gladys, sitting behind him, mimicked his motion then leaned toward him. “You okay, sugar?”

  “Fine,” he said, as he revolved back toward the minister. The sensation kept moving until it was directly behind him. He glanced over his shoulder again but saw nothing.

  “Laddie? ’Tis something wrong?” Eli asked.

  Rhys leaned toward him and whispered. “Someone’s moving.”

  Eli motioned to the funeral director, and Rhys felt the shifters encircle the tent and mourners.

  “Not here,” he said. “Behind us. Beyond the circle.”

  Eli pivoted and scanned the area behind them. “I dinna feel anything.”

  “Someone’s back there and he’s headed for her!” Rhys bolted from his chair, tipping it backward from the force. He dashed through the ring of shifters toward his truck shouting, “Get down, Lila!”

  Alexi ducked beneath the open window. The glass scrolled closed. The pounding of feet behind him echoed in his chest as he ran full tilt toward his truck. He skidded across the last bit of grass, still damp with dew, and slammed into his truck. He scrambled across the front and climbed in. The funeral director’s men formed a barrier at the edge of the blacktop as he jammed the key into the ignition.

  Rhys roared out of the parking space, barely missing a car and a hearse as he did a U-turn. Tires squealing, he sped off toward the cemetery entrance. A man, with a pair of binoculars around his neck, darted out in front of him. Rhys swerved to avoid him, missing by mere inches. Shifter sensations engulfed the truck cab. He jerked the wheel. The truck spun 180 degrees. Searching the road for the man, Rhys saw him sprint off between the gravestones.

  “Should have hit the SOB!” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

  As he wheeled the truck around, Alexi scrambled off the floor where she’d been thrown. “What did you do that for?”

  “That was him.”

  “Who?”

  “The shifter I sensed moving toward you.” He glanced at her. She still held her mimic of Lila, her skin white at his statement.

  “Me?” she whispered.

  “You didn’t shift, did you?”

  “No.”

  “But you did open the window and watch?”

  “Yes, but it was Lila, not me. I figured I would be safe. I was outside the thirty-foot limit. I thought no one could sense me.”

  “No one but me, but he must have seen you. He had binoculars. Was he coming after you, or Lila? And why?”

  Roc ditched his jacket behind a large monument and, after glancing around, he shifted into a new form. Adrenalin rushed through him, and he took several deep, calming breaths, willing his heart rate to slow.

  When the truck carrying Lila almost rammed him, he’d nearly bought it. He could hold a mimic shift when he slept, but unconscious, he’d have shifted into himself. Skirting everyone he saw by more than thirty feet, he made his way to the other side of the cemetery to his vehicle. Sylvia was going to be pissed when she found out what he’d done, if she didn’t know already. His encounter with the truck caused an uproar, which set the whole funeral party buzzing. Of course, there was the off chance she didn’t know he was the person who nearly became road kill. Didn’t put much stock in that, though.

  The bigger question wasn’t whether she knew what he’d done, but rather what she knew about Lila and Rhys. Meeting his double, and Promised One counterpart, leapt to his top priority, but not for Sylvia’s reasons.

  He wanted to find Lila and beg her forgiveness. Nothing else mattered.

  Chapter 20

  “Who is Lila?” Gladys asked. “Why was Rhys shouting her name?”

  A buzz of exclamations nearly drowned out her outburst, but Delaney heard the same question ripple through the crowd. She glanced at Sylvia. A scowl marred her exotic features. When she saw Delaney her countenance smoothed into a practiced, noncommittal expression.

  Good question. Why would anyone be after my daughter? And why would Rhys running off upset Sylvia? Delaney glanced at Eli who seemed as worried and surprised as she. “What was that about?”

  “A shifter, not one we accounted for,” Eli whispered. He stood and motioned everyone back to their seats. “I’m afeered the strain ’tis a bit much for Rhys, but I know he’d want us tae go on with the service.” He leaned
toward the minister. “Considering events, ye might want tae accelerate the eulogy.”

  The black-suited minister finished his tribute. The police honor guard drew the service to a close, folding the casket flag while “Taps” played. After a tiny hesitation, they presented the triangular bundle to Captain Williams, along with condolences over the precinct’s loss.

  “Since she has no next of kin, I’ll see her partner gets this,” he told the presenting policeman.

  The funeral director announced the service ended, and he and his men handed out roses from the casket spray to interested mourners.

  Harry brought over three, handing two to her. “For you and your daughter.”