Another leopard leaped on it and twisted the injured animal’s neck.
It flopped to the ground. Dead.
Sorrow filled her, short-lived because an enormous black leopard stalked closer, its eyes a golden glow of hatred. Fear punched, told her legs to run. She stood firm, waited, saw the instant the creature decided to attack.
Keira dodged, spun to the side and brandished her weapon. Her knife slid along the cat’s shoulder, sliced a shallow wound down its side.
The cat roared. It whirled, big paws slicing, snagging her cloak. She yanked, panic a hoarse sob as she struggled free. Another leopard roared and charged.
With the first animal distracted, she darted closer and drove her knife into its chest. She watched the life seep from the creature before jerking her knife free. The bloody blade had her swallowing rapidly. Once. Twice.
Something hit her from behind, sent her flying.
She hit the cobblestones hard, cried out. Her knife skittered away.
She pushed to hands and knees, crawled but a big paw knocked her flat. Keira sobbed, scrambled for her knife.
Hot breath heated her neck. She bucked, struggled, tried to throw off the cat. Too big. Too strong.
She was going to die.
The leopard roared, the raspy scream of victory shooting terror to her mind. Her crow screamed, urging her to fight. She wanted to live, to live, to live.
Another roar sounded. The feline holding her down screamed in return then his weight disappeared.
Keira sucked in a breath, stunned, then the desire for life had her scuttling for safety. She rose on shaky legs, took a faltering step and hunched over, agony rippling across her skin. Her breaths came harsh, deafening to sensitive ears. A roaring sound grew louder, louder, louder until a shriek burst up her throat. Her skin rippled, her muscles bunched, released, bunched, released in torturous rhythm.
Her eyesight went wonky. The world filmed over. She blinked and everything magnified. She cocked her head, lifted her arms and croaked in dismay.
A change in the air boosted her warning signals. Jump, her mind screamed. So she jumped and a leopard shot beneath her feet. A second cat charged after it and both sped around a corner, disappearing from sight.
Keira settled to the ground with a relieved sigh and spread her clawed feet—
Fear.
Shock.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
The emotions pelted her like enemy blaster fire as she stared down at the ground.
She…she…
She had big, ugly black feet.
A hoarse grunt came from behind. She jumped, large black wings shooting out to lift her higher off the ground.
She…she was flying.
The instant the thought coalesced, her wings stopped, instincts screeched to a halt and she dropped like a heavy stone. She hit the ground hard, the air smacking from her lung sacs. Stunned, she lay on the cobblestones, the blood and gore of wounded felines spread around her.
The grunt sounded again, and she tensed, ready for the killing bite.
It didn’t come.
Instead the grunt repeated. Insistent. Bossy.
Keira managed to lift her feathery body off the ground and she turned to face the feline. Bright green eyes stared at her—not golden like the other cats.
Jarlath?
She cawed, the unattractive croak emerging with a trace of a question.
The leopard sighed and rubbed its furry head against hers.
Jarlath.
Relief replaced some of her trepidation and the tightness faded from her chest. She glanced around and got a better look at the four feline bodies on the ground.
Razvan had worked magic indeed, to turn felines against their own. But how to fix this, and more importantly, how the frig did she turn back to humanoid?
Another feline trotted into sight.
A caw escaped her, one of alarm.
Jarlath angled in front of her. Although she was large in her crow form, many times bigger than the birds that flew through the forest, Jarlath’s feline made her feel dainty.
The new arrival halted in front of them. The air swirled around him and he shifted, the transformation fast and pain-free because he didn’t show any sign of discomfort.
“What the fukk, Jarlath? She’s the enemy.”
Jarlath stepped away and shifted. In humanoid form, he sidled nearer. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his friend. “Leave Keira alone. She fought with us.”
When Ellard continued to scowl, Jarlath stroked her feathers.
A shudder went through her, one of pleasure, and a coo escaped her beak.
Ellard grunted. “She can’t stay like that. Shift. The guard station isn’t far from here.” He frowned and bent to study the face of a dead feline. “Grata.”
“What?”
“This leopard looks familiar. He resembles one of the charge soldiers.”
“Their eyes were golden. All our people have green.”
“I know,” Ellard said, and Keira heard the worry in his voice. “I hope they’re all right at the station. Hurry, you need to shift before we attract more attention.”
“Ellard’s right,” Jarlath said. “You need to shift. People will shoot first if they see you and not bother with questions.”
Keira cawed, the sound grumpy and frustrated.
Ellard pulled on his tunic and cloak, refastened his pendant. “What’s the hold up?”
“She hasn’t shifted before. She’s half Cawdor and didn’t know she could shift.”
“Fukk,” Ellard cursed. “Talk her through. The process can’t be any different from when we shift.”
Keira’s escalating panic eased at Ellard’s suggestion. Yes. That might work. Her mother had spoken about her crow half but had told her the Greenmont genes were dominant. According to her mother, she’d bear more Cawdor characteristics if she’d inherited the ability to shift. She glanced down and mentally frowned at her feet.
They were so big, so ugly, so black.
Jarlath’s fingers moved over her feathers again and she pressed against his side, drawn to entice him to repeat the caress. He chuckled and stroked her head.
“Cristo, grata and fukkity fukk,” Ellard swore. “This isn’t the time for petting. Tell her how to shift so we can get moving.”
“Go ahead if you’re so worried,” Jarlath said. “I’ll help Keira and we’ll follow.”
Ellard shook his head. “We don’t know what we might find. It’s better if we stick together. Besides, the protection spells didn’t help a bit.”
Keira didn’t want Ellard glaring at her and tapping his foot while she attempted to shift, but she got his point. They were stronger as a team. Not that Ellard trusted her. He’d made that very clear.
Jarlath crouched and ran his fingers over one feathered wing. A shudder sped through her and fierce hunger thrummed along her veins, made her heart ventricles pump double-time. She wanted to jump him, shower affection and rain down lust.
“I want you to picture your humanoid form, sweetheart. The form you see in the looking-glass each morn.” His voice was a husky rumble and the sexy sound upped the sensations swelling within her feathery body. “Keira, are you listening? Draw a picture of your human self in your mind. Don’t think of anything else except how it feels to be you when you stand on two legs.”
Focus, stupid. Keira glanced at her feet because looking at Jarlath wasn’t helping. She recalled her reflection and clung to the memory. Long brown hair, green eyes with gold flecks. A green tinge to her skin. Her mouth. The rest of her body.
“Once you have the form cemented in your mind, focus on how it feels when you’re walking around the farm, picking berries, helping Melvyn shift the malpacks. Working with Hilda and Hortese in the kitchen.”
Keira let his descriptions flood her mind.
“That’s it, Keira. Think how much you want to walk on two legs instead of hop.”
Shooting stars, she
didn’t want to hop for the rest of her life. She wanted hands again. Normal feet. She concentrated hard, felt a tingle sweep through her body. The tingle morphed to pain. Hurts. She struggled against the hard press of agony.
“Don’t fight it.”
“H-hurts.” The word came out in a garble of bird talk.
“Breathe. Deep breaths.”
The torture grew worse, her muscles convulsing, twisting and cramping. She cried out, desperate to stop the torment. The pain peaked then receded as her humanoid form took precedence. She panted, her skin coated with sweat. Her heart ventricles raced and blood roared in her ears.
“Well done. Hand me my cloak, Ellard,” Jarlath said.
Keira lifted her head to see Jarlath frown. She didn’t know what caused it. All she knew was she needed him to hold her right now. She threw herself into his arms, sighed when they wrapped around her, drawing her tight to his muscular chest. His naked chest. Every one of her female hormones stood and saluted.
“You’re fully clothed,” he said.
Oh good. He’d noticed too. They needed to ditch Ellard and get to the good stuff.
“How did you do that?” Ellard said. “Even your bag shifted with you and that was over your shoulders.”
“What?”
“When we shift we have to remove our upper garments. If we don’t, our shift shreds them. I can’t tell you how many shirts I wrecked when I first learned to shift,” Jarlath said.
“I’ve never seen the Cawdor people shift. I’ve seen them in crow form, but none of them ever shifted in front of me. Most stayed away from Greenmont valley.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jarlath said. “We’ll find someone to answer our questions once things calm down. Maybe your mother will know.”
“She won’t take my call. She said it’s safer for both of us.” Keira bit her lip and prayed neither of the men asked questions.
“Although this is fascinating, we should leave,” Ellard said.
Jarlath cupped her chin and directed her gaze to his. “Okay?”
“I will be,” she said. “We’d better hurry or Ellard will get even grumpier.”
“He’s concerned.”
“The enemy has amassed strong magic if they can turn your people against each other. We should worry.”
Keira increased her speed to a trot and Jarlath kept pace.
“How do you feel?”
“Scared. Confused. I don’t understand why I shifted. Thank you for helping me shift back.”
“My pleasure,” he purred, and her hormones did another of those snappy salutes.
Up ahead, Ellard ran to a sturdy building and pounded on the door. It opened and he disappeared inside.
By common consent, Jarlath and Keira put on a spurt of speed. When they burst through the door, they found Ellard with a woman in his arms, her body crushed against his chest because he held her so tight.
Finally, he released her, but he kept her hand clasped in his. Tall and slender, the woman had long black hair, tied back in a braid.
“I’ve never met his girl before. She’s pretty,” Jarlath murmured.
“He doesn’t talk about her?”
“I knew he was seeing someone but I had no idea—fukk. Look at her eyes.”
Keira froze as the woman turned golden orbs on her. Her crow stirred, sending urgent messages of warning through her and the desire to flee. Keira stood firm as she stared at the stunningly beautiful woman. The contrast between her and Ellard startled her because this woman could have any man. Keira was sure Ellard possessed many good qualities but handsome features weren’t one of them.
“I need a sit-rep to take to my father,” Ellard said. “How many soldiers remain? Where are the others? Mareeka, I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“He hasn’t noticed her eyes,” Keira whispered. “How? She’s staring straight at him.”
“She’s shifter. I sense that much, but she reeks in the same way as the men in red.”
“Who are they?” the woman asked, her crisp voice full of compulsion.
“We’re friends,” Jarlath said before Ellard could answer.
“Ellard hasn’t mentioned you.” No missing her suspicion.
“Mareeka, these are my friends. We’ve come to help,” Ellard said, his voice softer, gentler than Keira had ever heard it before.
“We work with Ellard,” Keira said. “Where are the other soldiers?”
“I sent them to reconnoiter,” Mareeka said.
Lie. Keira didn’t know how she knew, but the woman was lying. She separated from Jarlath in an attempt to split the woman’s attention. She couldn’t watch them both.
The woman pulled out a blaster and pointed it at Jarlath. “Don’t move.”
“What are you doing?” Ellard moved to block her aim.
The woman shifted her stance to focus on Keira. “What are you? You don’t smell right.”
Jarlath sidled farther away. Distract, Keira thought. “I am Cawdor.” The acknowledgment almost choked her but the woman brightened.
“Razvan said he would send reinforcements. Seize their weapons. He is bodyguard to the prince.”
“Really?” Keira said and pulled her knife from her boot. “Should I gut him where he stands?”
Her harsh words seemed to jolt Ellard from his frozen shock. “You’re a spy for the Cawdor? I don’t understand. I thought you…we…” he trailed off in confusion.
Keira felt sorry for him, felt his pain and bewilderment.
The woman barked out a brittle sound of amusement. “I’m beautiful. Why would I hook up with an ugly man like you when I could choose anyone? You were convenient and quite stupid. We duped you good.”
Keira glared at Mareeka. No, Ellard wasn’t attractive like Jarlath, but he was a good man who did his duty and protected others to his best ability.
“You lied?” Ellard sagged, his confidence oozing from his face to leave pale shock.
“Of course I did,” the woman scoffed. “We did. So much you don’t know.”
Ellard’s broad shoulders tensed, and Keira witnessed his pain and embarrassment before he shut his emotions away. It was obvious he’d cared for her, and she’d just stomped on his heart. We? Did she mean Razvan or someone else?
“Why?” Jarlath demanded from the other side of the room.
“To serve my lover and master,” she said.
“Which master?” Keira asked, although she feared she knew.
“The ruler of the House of Cawdor,” the woman said. “Razvan is the true ruler, and he will rule over the cats and crow.”
Not if Keira had her way.
“Where are the other soldiers?” Jarlath asked.
“I told you. They’re out taking care of their duties,” the woman said, her eyes blazing bright gold now with the fervor of a fanatic. “Stop moving. I know what you’re doing. I’ll shoot.”
Jarlath froze. On the opposite side of the office room, Keira did too. She didn’t like the way the woman was waving her weapon.
Ellard took half a step toward the woman.
“Stop.” She lifted her blaster. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”
“Put your weapon down,” Ellard commanded and took a step closer.
The woman squeezed the trigger, and Ellard dropped like a rock.
Keira threw her knife at the same time as Jarlath fired his weapon. The woman fell, her blaster clattering onto the floor.
Keira kicked the woman’s weapon away before she crouched to check her status and retrieve her knife. “She’s dead. How’s Ellard?”
“His arm is bleeding like a stuck boar-pig,” Jarlath said with urgency. “Can you see if there is a medical kit around here?”
Ellard moaned and thrashed.
“Steady.” Jarlath kept pressure on Ellard’s arm and placed his other hand on his friend’s chest. His touch seeming to soothe Ellard.
Keira scanned the room, and when she didn’t see a medi-kit, she checked the cupboards. Nothing. She spied a doorway and
found a small kitchenette with a chillbox and cookbox—both ancient models—plus a basic replicator, another early version with known bugs. Ah, a medical kit. She grabbed it and hurried to Jarlath and prayed it held the requisite items, given the other old technology available at the guard station.
“Is there a blood stopper?”
She rifled through the contents and pulled out a syringe plus coagulant spray. Her first real glance at Ellard’s arm deepened her concern. “That doesn’t look good.”
Jarlath cast a concerned glance at Ellard. “He’s gonna lose his arm. I doubt even shifting will fix this.”
“We’ll try,” Keira said.
Ellard groaned, his cry one of severe pain.
“Steady, my friend. Steady. Is there a knock-out drug or at least some type of painkiller?”
“It’s a basic kit. We’ll have to take him to the medical center. I’ll find transport.” She shot to her feet and was halfway to the door when Jarlath spoke.
“Keira.”
“Yes?”
“Be careful. I’d hate for something to happen to you.”
Warmth filled her as their gazes met and held. So much said with one look. Everything inside her went soft and feminine. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She raced into the street, pulled out her blaster, ready to fire if the need arose. The street was deserted. She skirted rubble from neighboring buildings, keeping her eyes peeled. The soldiers must have transport. Hushed voices drifted to her, and she circled a drunken building to find two male youths attempting to hotwire a flymo several buildings down from the soldiers’ base. Excellent.
“You! Hands above your head,” she ordered.
“Find yer own,” one of the youths said, his red skin and thick dreads marking him as Red Mumber. “This be our vehicle.”
His skinny friend nudged him. “She got weapon.”
“I’ll do a deal,” Keira said, focusing on the Red Mumber since he seemed the most dangerous. The other youth was small and wiry, no trouble for her to deal with on her own. “You hotwire this vehicle and take me and my friends to the medical center, and I’ll let you both leave with the vehicle and a cash reward.”
“Currency?” the Red Mumber asked.
“If you want.” Keira said.
“How we know you trustworthy?” The Red Mumber’s deep brown eyes glittered with suspicion.
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