by Angela Foxxe
“I still don’t understand. I found her in a human trafficking raid. I didn’t even know she was a shifter.”
“You didn’t even know what shifters were until this week,” Ty pointed out. “How would you know that Emma was one?”
“I don’t know,” Senora said. “But I should have known that there was something different about her. They must not have known that she was a WereDragon.”
“They knew,” Ethan said. “It’s customary for a WereDragon outside the family to pick up the future Supreme Guardian to bring to a secret nest.”
“I thought this was the nest,” Senora interrupted.
“It is, but the Supreme Guardian can’t raise his own descendant. There is one specialized nest, which is where the Supreme Guardian is raised with a few other dragon younglings, but even I don’t know where that nest is. It’s the only way to protect our species and keep us from being eradicated by one catastrophic incidence.”
“But how did they even get Emma?” Senora asked.
“The same way they’ve taken all the children they’ve taken from us: they showed up with the right documents and simply walked away.”
“But aren’t those kidnappers dragons, too?”
“We don’t know,” Ty interjected. “We don’t know if they’re traitors or if they’re incredibly bold humans. Or even another type of shifter. We know so little about them, which is why it continues to happen.”
“I just don’t understand how Emma ended up with the Gate Keeper’s ilk.”
“The same way Addie did,” Ty offered. “Addie isn’t the only shifter or shifter hybrid that has ended up like that. We’ve kept it quiet because we don’t want the investigation to expose our existence, but there have been a lot of our kind turning up dead, or at least missing, for an extended period of time. But it’s not like we can come out and say who and what they are.”
“Are many of them cases I’ve worked?”
“No. We’ve kept them under wraps. Emma was a fluke, and Addie’s mom didn’t know about Addie, so she didn’t know what she was doing when she called your office,” Ty said. “If she would have told me that she was planning on calling you in, I would have tried to change her mind.”
“Would you have been able to?” Senora asked, smiling. “I met that woman. I don’t think there is any way you could have stopped her once she got her mind made up.”
“How was I a fluke?” Emma asked quietly. “I don’t understand.”
Senora looked at her and smiled gently.
“Finding you was a fluke,” she said. “Since shifters aren’t reported in the missing person’s database, I wasn’t looking for you.”
“Then, how did you even know I was somewhere on the property?”
Senora closed her eyes, trying to remember everything from that day. If anyone deserved the full story, it was Emma. She’d been so brave even though Senora could tell she was terrified. Eyes still closed, she pictured every moment, then began describing the scene to Emma in great detail. It was so much a part of Senora that she could hear everything she’d heard that day, smell every smell, and feel the stifling, stagnant air as if she was really there.
Dust churned in the air, swirling around Senora as she took the first step into the dark barn with only a flashlight to guide her. The room was oddly silent, but something hung in the air, undetectable by the five senses. She knew what it was but had never found a word to describe the feeling. But despite the inability to explain the weight that teased the air, she still knew without a doubt that there were people in this building. Their presence displaced the air, and Senora could feel the desperation in their stiffened bodies, the hope that this time, it would be help coming and not whoever was charged with attending to their minimal needs.
Breaths were held and silent pleas sent up into the sky as the sound of Senora’s heavy combat style boots thudded on the hard dirt floor. The soft click of metal gave away their location as someone dared move and scraped a chain on a cold, hard concrete floor.
Senora sped up, dust motes dancing in the beam of her flashlight as she kicked them up. Muffled sobs echoed around her, and she fought the urge to call out. They had the scene contained, but human traffickers we a special type of evil, and there was no telling if any more of the Gate Keeper’s men lurked in the darkness.
When Senora finally shone her light on the group of metal dog kennels at the end of the aisle, she gasped at what she saw. Her knees threatened to buckle, but she held it together. She had to be strong. These women had to know that the person standing before them was safety and strength.
She could cry about the images that would be forever seared into her brain when she got home. Right now, these women needed a hero, and that’s what she was going to give them.
She surveyed each kennel run, explaining quietly that she had to photograph and catalogue the evidence that was in front of the cages before she could cut the bolts. Several of the women nodded, but others just stared at her, too emotionally broken to consider that this could really be the end of their suffering. Male agents hung back out of sight, letting Senora take the lead and interact with those being held prisoner.
One by one, Senora released them, and they were quickly whisked away by paramedics and taken to the ambulances that waited for them. Senora tried not to worry about the age of some of the captives, but it was hard. Most were in their late teens or early twenties, but the occasional twelve-year-old was almost more than she could handle. She felt herself fading, but she pushed through and focused on the details. The more evidence she got, the more likely she would be to send the leader of this sick enterprise to prison for the rest of his natural life and then some. It wouldn’t be easy, but Senora was committed to working through until she succeeded.
She was going to catch the Gate Keeper and put an end to the terror. No matter how long it took.
They were almost done, and even though she had to stop and photograph each cage, the work was going quickly, and Senora was at the last woman’s cage. The woman put her hand through the chain link, and Senora reached out to take her hand and squeeze it.
“We’re here now,” she said gently. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”
The woman nodded, then her eyes shot to the side and she glanced at the empty cage beside her, then looked away. Senora didn’t say a word, but noted the direction the woman had looked as she cut the lock and set the woman free. Battered, bruised, and long, tangled hair loose on her shoulders, the woman looked over her shoulder before she climbed onto the stretcher and allowed the EMTs to check her out.
Senora waited until the woman was wrapped up in what they were doing before she went to the empty cage that the woman had looked at. Kneeling in the dirt to get a better view, she swung back the partially opened gate and pulled out her flashlight. The beam struck a bowl of food and a bowl of water on the ground. She cringed, hating that these captives had been treated like dogs right down to the way that the food was distributed. It seemed like such a small piece of the puzzle, but Senora was struck by the indignity of it all.
The bowl was still warm to the touch, the food uneaten and the water filled to the top with clean liquid. It was the only cage with untouched food and water, which struck Senora as odd. She knew how these operations worked; they cut costs by feeding their captives the bare minimum that they needed to survive. It was rare that food lasted more than the few minutes it took to consume it. There was no way that there would be leftovers unless someone was removed before they got a chance to finish.
Senora turned and looked at the last captive as they wheeled her away on the gurney. They made eye contact, and the woman looked to her left, then back at Senora. Her message was clear; she was too afraid to say what she knew, but one of the captives had been taken in that direction, and it hadn’t been long before Senora and her team had shown up. There was another victim, and Senora had to find her before whoever had her got away.
Hand near her gun and the other holding a flashlight, sh
e followed the wall in the direction that the woman had indicated with her eyes. There appeared to be nothing but the wall itself, and had Senora not been looking for something out of the ordinary, she would have missed it. But she saw it: a single slat of wood that looked slightly discolored compared to the rest. Even in daylight, the wood wouldn’t have been noticeable. But it was there, and once she saw it, it was obvious. There was an escape hatch in the side of the barn.
Indentations and scuffs had brushed away the dust in front of the hatch. Someone had knelt down and opened the door, and another someone had been pushed through, either by force or because they were unconscious. Cautiously, Senora opened the hatch and pushed through, and found herself at the back of the barn and outside in the night.
“Freeze!” someone shouted, instantly blinding her with the heat of the Maglite in the darkness.
“It’s me!” she yelled back, though her hands shot up in surrender instinctively. “There’s another captive.”
“We’ve searched the entire grounds,” the agent who had called out to her said. “There’s no one else here, and we’ve accounted for every woman and girl that was missing in this area. We don’t have any more open cases. Senora, we found everyone.”
His smile was huge. Even though one victim had passed away sometime the week before the agents had found the place and shown up, it was almost unheard of to rescue that many that were suspected of being sold into sex trafficking. This was a huge victory for her team and for the community at large. Of course the other agents were thrilled, but Senora knew that there was one more victim, and she was going to find her.
She ignored the agent’s insistence that there was no one else to save, and she followed the tracks that led into the woods beyond. When another agent attempted to step forward, she held her hand out to keep them away. The last thing she needed was for them to obscure the prints that the lone escapee had left in the dirt.
The agent nodded, and as if by some silent communication, all the agents standing there took their flashlights and trained them on the area that Senora was searching. The path was suddenly daylight bright, and Senora could see more of the foot prints than she could before. She snapped a quick picture, then pulled her pen from her pocket and stuck it into the footprint to get an approximate height, then stood and followed the prints as they quickly made their way out of the barn area, weaving through an area filled with sheds, cabins, and other small structures, and then out to the woods beyond.
The prints were lost in the shuffle of footprints near the small buildings, but Senora found them again just before the line of trees. Kneeling, she tested the depth of the print again and scowled while she thought.
“They were carrying something heavy and off-loaded it before they went into the woods,” she said. “Something at least eighty pounds.” She pointed at four of the agents and local officers milling about. “You four go after him. He couldn’t have gotten very far. Everyone else, pick a structure and search it. There’s another victim, and I’ll lay money that someone that small is a teenager. We have to find them.”
The once skeptical agent nodded, and just like that, everyone sprang into action. They searched every shed, lean-to, dog house, outhouse and hen house, yet after several minutes of searching, there was still no sign of the missing victim.
Senora took a deep breath, trying not to let the panic overwhelm her. They had no proof that there was another victim, but her gut told her otherwise. It was obvious that whoever had fled the barn had been carrying someone, then had put them down. She had to be here. But with no description and no idea who it could be, they were shooting in the dark.
“There’s no one here,” the senior agent said to her. “We’ve searched every one of these structures, and there’s no one here.”
“Search again,” she said. “She’s here.”
“How do you know?”
“There was food and water for another person. It was unfinished.”
“That could have been for the deceased,” he said, his tone cold and his focus on the facts rather than the weight of the loss. “There’s no way to know if it was another person.”
“It was warm.”
“It was one hundred degrees today.”
“Not that type of warm. I’m telling you, there was someone else. And the last woman out looked at me, then at the cage.”
“She looked at you, and that’s why you think there’s another victim?”
His tone was incredulous, but she ignored him. He shook his head, walking off and letting everyone know that they were moving out so that the crime scene team could take over. Looking over his shoulder, he made it clear that Senora was to follow him, but she didn’t budge. There was someone here, waiting to be saved, and Senora wasn’t going to let her down, whoever she was.
Her eyes scanned the buildings in the small area behind the barn. It had to be one of the buildings, but which one?
A small garden shed kept grabbing her attention, but it didn’t fit. They had already searched it, and even though there was a slight gap in the boards that made up part of the foundation, there was no way a teenager could fit in that opening. At only twelve or so inches wide and no more than eight inches tall, there was just no way. It was more than likely inhabited by a raccoon and her babies, or worse.
Senora wrinkled her nose. Wouldn’t that be a perfect way to ruin her day and send her home reeking if she disturbed a skunk with a den full of babies?
Even though it was all wrong, Senora kept going back to it. Sighing, she took her flashlight and went to it, hoping that she wouldn’t get sprayed in the face when she leaned down to shine the light into the opening.
The space was empty at first glance, the sandy dirt beneath the building flat and undisturbed, though the space under the shed was taller and deeper than the missing board. Senora swept the light back and forth, then along the edges from her right going left.
She almost missed the tiny heap to her left as she moved the light over it, but when the little body jerked in fear, Senora realized that she was looking at a child covered in the gray silt from the dirt beneath the shed.
She was tied up, her back facing the opening, her little body shoved through the opening without care for the scrapes and bruises the rough entry would give her on the way in.
“I won’t hurt you,” Senora said quietly. “We’re going to save you, but you’re going to have to be patient, alright?”
Dust-covered curls bounced as the girl nodded her understanding. She whimpered when Senora backed her head out of the space.
“Do you want the light?” Senora asked.
The girl nodded again. Senora moved the flashlight until it was illuminating most of the space, then left it in the dirt and pushed her way back from beneath the shed.
She stood, throwing her hand up in triumph to indicate that she had found one person. Shocked faces went blank for an instant, then the agents sprang into action. Within minutes, the garden shed was unloaded, and an agent with a crowbar carefully started ripping the wooden floor out after looking to see where the girl was.
When the last board was ripped away and Senora could finally get to the girl, she stepped in and scooped her up. She was so light and so still. Senora cradled her against her chest and carried her to the waiting gurney where she set her down and went to work untying her and removing the duct taped gag from her mouth carefully so that they didn’t hurt her.
“You’re safe,” Senora said, brushing the girl’s hair from her face.
When the tape was finally off her mouth, the little girl licked her lips and looked at her with shimmering eyes.
“I want to go home,” she said, somehow containing her tears.
“We’re going to find your family and get you home,” Senora promised. “What is your name?”
“Emma,” she said. “My name is Emma, and I’m eight years old.”
Senora opened her eyes, and the scene from so many years ago slipped away. Everyone was seated around her, l
istening with rapt attention to her story.
“I never knew how close we’d come to losing her,” Ethan said in horrified awe. “I can’t thank you enough for saving my sister.”
The familiar sound of a chopper overhead interrupted Senora before she could answer. She looked up, squinting at the chopper as it flew past in the harsh sunlight.
“That’s odd,” Ethan said.
“Maybe it’s a lost child,” Senora offered.
“There’s no way. The rangers don’t come this way.”
“Do they know you’re here?” Senora asked.
“Of course, they know we’re here; they’re shifters themselves. Something is wrong.”
Senora turned to watch the chopper with the others, and her heart sank when it started to lower itself just behind one of the ridges that helped isolate this spot from the outside world.
“That’s not good, is it?” Senora offered.
“Not at all,” Ethan said. “We have company, and I’d be willing to bet it’s Kaden.”
“What do we do?” Senora asked.
“We hide the kids and fight,” Ethan said with a shrug. “There really is nothing left to do.”
Senora nodded, then looked to Ty.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked him, but he only smiled.
“I’ve been wanting to get a piece of that shifter hating crook for years. I was born ready for this.”
*
Emma stood beside Senora in the tiny cottage built into the ground, the roof made of fake grass and surrounded by boulders to further camouflage its existence. Like many of the living areas, it was built into the landscape to avoid detection by the casual observer, and was accessible by a series of tunnels that exited from one of a handful of caves in the cluster of rocks that made up the mountain’s peak. It was cool inside, with strategically-placed windows that let the air and light in without giving away their location.