by Shawn Reilly
“Get off me tigress, I don’t have time for fun,” he teased as she changed back into girl-form. Having Kennedy suddenly on top of him was even more of a shocker than the tiger, especially when he stared upward into her green eyes.
“Why do you always have to be so annoying?” She looked down at him. Her long orange-red hair fell forward, surrounding her thin perfect face. Snow clung to it and it smelled of something flowery. A slow smile crossed Nixon’s lips. Maybe having Kennedy on top of him wasn’t so bad after all. He definitely was a lot warmer.
“Even under the current circumstances, I find this very pleasurable.” On impulse Nixon wrapped his arms around Kennedy’s waist. With one deft move she elbowed him in the ribs, and then proceeded to use his chest as a means to push herself off his body.
He grunted with each jab, realizing she was intentionally trying to cause him discomfort. Kennedy put her arms over her coated chest and watched him as he stood and brushed snow from his backside.
When he turned in the direction of the car she let out a gasp of recognition and headed for the ravine. Reaching out and grabbing her by the wrist, he pulled her back. A part of him was jealous that she was so concerned for Ari, the other was just as concerned, but he knew the part that always won.
“I think I should probably have a look first,” he told her. “It looks as though his car has been there a few hours.”
“So is Ari in there or not?” she barked.
“Give me a moment, your highness; I haven’t even reached the car yet.” Nixon no more finished his words when he heard a cracking sound and realized too late that he was standing on ice. He slid, lost his balance, and even though it was his bottom that hit the hard frozen ground, the pain racked upward to his head.
Tired of his futile attempts, Kennedy marched down the ravine, sliding her feet under the snow to keep in contact with the ground. Hitting a slippery spot she stiffened and slid the remainder of the way, right into the driver’s side door.
She tried the handle but the door refused to give. Looking as though she were about to cry, she sent a pleading look his way. Sighing, he started for her. He could tell by the way the car was wrapped around the tree that Ari had lost control.
The sweet smell of antifreeze filled his nostrils. He trudged to the window and with a bare hand wiped away the two inches of snow accumulated there. Once he cleared a big enough spot, Nixon leaned over and pressed his face against the glass. There was no sign of Ari.
Moving to the back windshield, he repeated the process only to shake his head in uncertainty. He rubbed his hands together to regain some warmth as Kennedy watched him for signs.
“Well he’s not here but his phone is next to his briefcases and his coat is lying on the backseat.”
Kennedy looked around in any direction that Ari may have gone. “He doesn’t like to drive with his coat on because the bottom rubs against the dirty floor mat,” she said, “but he wouldn’t have gone on foot without it.”
She closed her eyes, inhaled deep and Nixon saw the lines in her face relax. “I don’t smell any blood, but I’m picking up something other than Ari. I can’t explain it though. My senses are all mixed up. Maybe it’s the snow masking things.”
“Yeah, I picked them up too,” he said.
“Them?” Kennedy titled her head back and sniffed the wind trying to determine the scent. Nixon ignored her for now and rubbed the sides of his arms. He tried the door again but it didn’t budge. He found it odd that Ari would have taken the time to lock the car, if perhaps he had been abducted. He examined the ground for any signs of Ari that she might have missed.
The snow was falling at a steady speed and their tracks were all but gone. Even as a tiger and a falcon, they would have a hard time tracking in this storm. Shivering, Nixon set his gaze on Kennedy. This time he didn’t try to disguise his apprehension.
“What’s going on?” she seriously asked. “What aren’t you telling me? What did you mean by them?”
Nixon shook his head. “I think Ari might be in trouble.”
“You think?” Kennedy pointed at the car smashed against the tree. “What possibly gave you that idea?” She threw her arms up in surrender. “Come on Nixon, what’s really going on?”
“The scent you can’t explain belongs to fowlers. They change so much, it’s hard to maintain their nature. Only another fowler like me can pick them up.”
She scrunched her face, and gauged his expression. “You’re the only fowler I know,” she said.
“Fowlers keep a low profile but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. There were a few at the pub last night. They claim Asher expelled them from the Union for no apparent reason seven years ago, and according to how hard they swung at me, I’d say they’re still pretty pissed about it.”
Kennedy disbelievingly shook her head back and forth. “You believe fowlers took Ari to get back at Asher?”
“What I’m saying is the fowlers might have somehow caused Ari’s wreck. Come on, I’ll tell you the rest later. Right now we’re gonna freeze if we don’t get inside. And in that I mean me.”
Nixon started back up the embankment with Kennedy following behind him. When she began to slide back down, he stopped and extended a hand that she clasped firmly in her own. Suddenly a very impulsive idea flashed in his head.
Pulling her up too fast and too forceful gave her little chance to compose herself. As her body smashed into his, her mouth opened in a startled intake of breath, which Nixon took advantage of and kissed her hard on the lips. The warmth of her sent a shiver through his frozen body. He felt her stiffen unresponsively, and the longer he delayed in releasing her, the angrier she grew. Squaring her hands on his chest she pushed free of him.
“You taste like alcohol.” Instinctively, she lifted a hand, preparing to strike but Nixon had no intentions of getting hit again this night—not in his dreams or in real life. Roughly he grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her backward. Slipping, Kennedy fell on her bottom near the side of the road and instantly her eyes flashed to him. Mixed within her shock, he saw that he had hurt her both physically and emotionally. Guilt, suddenly wiped away anything smart he had planned to say.
“I’m sorry Kennedy.” He walked toward her. “You know I didn’t mean that. It’s just something inbred in me. I can’t help it. You shouldn’t have tried to hit me.”
“You shouldn’t have kissed me.”
“I’m sorry.” Nixon smiled. She swung her head in response so he smiled all the wider. “Okay, I’m not but I swear I won’t do something like that again. I took advantage of the situation, and well… it was wrong.”
“Nixon,” she breathed, “you’re still smiling.”
“Can’t help it, just be thankful you got an apology from me, most girls don’t.”
“I’m not sure what bothers me most about that statement.” She narrowed her eyes. “The fact that girls feel you should apologize after kissing them or the fact you’re so obviously a man whore.”
He slapped a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “Kennedy, don’t say such things.” Slowly he moved to stand over her, this time doing his best not to smile, but it was there all the same tugging at the corner of his lips. “Am I forgiven?”
Even though she was frowning, she nodded. “Just don’t try something like that again. Ouch,” she groaned. “What is this?” She pulled something out from under her bottom and held it up for him to see. Nixon moved closer. He had no clue what it was but it looked like some sort of shield or badge. “The pin stuck me in my right cheek,” she complained.
“Let’s have a look,” he said. Kennedy’s eyes, innocent and round flashed upwards to his. “I meant the badge,” he laughed. She relaxed and even spared him a sheepish grin of embarrassment. He ran his thumb over the cold metal. Not only did the emblem in the center seem familiar, it sent his senses into alert status.
Changing his eyes to that of a hawk, Nixon used his bird instincts to search the woods around them.
“N
ixon, what is it?” Instead of using her own skills to conduct a much better search of the area, Kennedy watched him. He could make out the skeletal branches of trees and brush, but nothing that wasn’t supposed to be in the woods in the middle of a snowstorm. Still…even in the quiet of winter he could feel it, the watching, stalking and waiting eyes of his father.
“Nothing,” he said and slipped the badge into the pocket of his jeans. “Let’s go. Asher will want to know what we found.”
“You don’t think we should try and track Ari ourselves?”
Once again, Nixon extended his hand but this time Kennedy grunted and slapped it away. He figured he deserved it but the fact his fingers were half frozen made them sting all the more. He stuck both hands under his arm pits to try and gain some feeling. When she stood in front of him, he boldly looked her in the eyes, which is something he seldom did. And the fact he was, caused her to wrinkle her brow in suspicion.
“I know you’re worried and despite what you think I’m worried too, but so is Asher,” he told her. “The truth of the matter is they’re spiritually linked and if Asher would just stop resisting Ari, he could probably hear him. Besides, I can tell Asher’s really worried about him.”
“Then you believe Asher really does care for Ari?”
“In his own odd way, yeah.” Nixon seriously took her hand in his and lightly kissed the top of her knuckles. “See that wasn’t so bad now was it?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t deck you.”
“Come on,” he winked, “let’s change. It will make the trip back warmer and faster.”
Kennedy quickly agreed, “But keep your talons to yourself.”
Letting a flirtatious smirk cross his lips, Nixon licked them very slowly. “I make no such promises.”
Kennedy started to say something but Nixon changed into his falcon form and flew away. He wanted to talk to Asher alone. When he reached the manor Nixon spotted Asher opening the dining room window, so he flew inside. Miscalculating his speed he hit the long table and fell off the end, transforming back just as his body landed in something wet and cold.
Instantly Nixon’s nose was assaulted by the strong scent of pine cleaner, and something else just as equally repulsive. With the booming qualities of Asher’s laughter resounding in the quiet house, he slowly walked toward Nixon. Asher was in full Aikido gear—white wraparound jacket, ranking black belt around his waist, black pleated trousers, and headband to keep his hair out of his face, with the emblem of the Ki on the front.
Nixon smelled his hand. “Is this…pee?”
“Yes, according to the old healer I have the ability of scaring it out of little children. I had the cook clean it up but apparently she didn’t do a good job. Now,” Asher said, lowering down on his haunches, “what did you find?”
“We found Ari’s car nose first in a ditch not too far from here. It looked as though he might have hit his head on the window,” Nixon explained. “But Kennedy didn’t pick up any traces of blood.”
“Then he could be out there in this weather, disoriented. You useless bird, didn’t you even try to track him?” Asher stood and thoughtfully stared off in the direction of the window.
Nixon sat up, crossed his legs in front of him and ran his wet, pine smelling urine soaked hand along the dry area of the rug which drew a growl of frustration from Asher. “I didn’t see the point,” Nixon said. “I got into a bar fight last night with a band of outcasts, of which three were fowlers. I lost, but nonetheless they were still pretty pissed afterwards. Actually, they were pissed at you—”
“Do you have a point?” Asher cut him off.
“The point is I smelled them on the wind, the same fowlers from the bar near Ari’s car.”
Nixon noticed a familiar twitch of impatience in Asher’s jaw. The one that he often got whenever he was trying to hold on because he knew there was more to the story than the teller was relaying, and then a light literally glowed in Asher’s weird mood-ring eyes. They sparked red. Drawing his brows together he looked down at him, and this time Nixon could tell that he was putting thoughts together like the pieces of a puzzle of which the picture wasn’t all that pretty.
“You wouldn’t have gotten into a fight on the account of me because you don’t like me anymore than they do? So tell me Nixon just what did they say that set you off?”
“They started ragging on Grant. They said he had a child, a child with an outsider, but I know that’s not true. We would have known about it.”
“Oh, you were just nine-years-old,” Asher snapped irritably. “What makes you think he would have told you?”
Nixon lowered his eyes refusing to let Asher see that he had inflicted a painful blow. But it was true. Despite Grant’s kindness, Nixon knew the truth. Of everyone in the household he had known Grant the least amount of time.
“Okay, so he might not have told me but he would have told someone. Ari maybe. Grant wouldn’t have just left a child, a shifter child out there in the world all alone.”
Asher suddenly turned his back on him. “What else did they say?”
Nixon mentally replayed the conversation. He had been checking out a cute blonde with an attitude at the bar so he only got an occasional word but it was all too obvious they wanted him to hear what they were saying.
“They mentioned Grant’s kid and maybe going after him to prove a point. I thought they were just mouthing off.” Nixon knew now what it was that bothered Asher. “You think he knows don’t you and that’s why they took him? That’s why they took Ari. Isn’t it, Asher?”
Asher faced him again. They both heard Kennedy’s footsteps nearing. Nixon had wanted to spare her the news about Grant. He hadn’t believed it possible, but Asher’s strange reaction was causing him to have his doubts. With the same severity as looking into the sun, Nixon boldly met Asher’s red gaze, and he knew he was right.
With his back to the nearing Kennedy, Asher took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He put a hand on his chin in a thinking posture. He could often be theatrical when he saw that it fit his purpose, and apparently this time Asher felt it did.
“You said those men that provoked you were outcasts. I find it ironic that the old healer mentioned at breakfast there were outcasts in the hollow,” Asher said. “There’s a place near the lake that Grant called Bear Hollow. I think I’ll talk to the old man again and this time, actually pay attention.”
“I’ll go after him once I change.” Nixon got up and started toward Kennedy, and she started following behind him just as he knew she would. When he reached the door Nixon looked back to see that Asher had resumed his watch before the window so he called his name. Asher didn’t turn around.
“You never leave so you’re not going to take off on me or anything, right?” When Asher inclined his head, Nixon guessed that was about as good of an answer as he was going to get.
He knew Kennedy wanted him to explain and that was the only reason she was following him, so he talked as he hurried up to the third floor to his room.
“Those guys last night at the bar just weren’t picking a fight with me because I serve on the Pillar Council. I can’t help but feel they were intentionally trying to start something.”
Kennedy folded her arms across her chest as he stopped outside his door. “Why were you even in a bar?”
“Well this bar is more like a pub. When Ari dragged me to the office last month,” Nixon rationalized, “I got bored so I decided to go for a walk around the city. I saw this pub and thought I’d grab some lunch. That’s all there was to it.”
Nixon put his back to the door. He noticed her eyes as they flecked down his body. Possibly he wasn’t as tall as Asher or Ari but he never had a problem getting glances from the babes, including the blonde at the bar. He had just thought to make his move when all hell broke loose.
“Anyhow,” he said, “the owner’s brother is an old friend of mine from school. He’s the one I told you about when we were younger.”
&n
bsp; “You mean the pig?”
Nixon tried to hide his surprise. He figured she had long since forgotten. “Yeah, well his name’s Kurt and even though he was older than me, he always took up for me on the playground.”
“I remember Nixon,” she frowned. “Why do you feel the need to fight with everyone including me? I’m just worried about you.”
“Kennedy,” he firmly stated, looking straight at her for emphasis, “my mom left me when I was a kid and I don’t need another one.” He turned away then and opened his bedroom door. When he went to shut it she put her body in the way. “Kennedy, don’t do this now. Whatever your reasons are, your place is to worry about Ari. I’ve got other things to deal with and the last thing I want is to have to explain my behavior to you.”
“Fine,” she said hurt. “I won’t bother you again.”
“Keni.” He used the name Grant had given her and instantaneously her green eyes watered. He ran a hand along her arm. “Look, I’m just an idiot that on occasion gets mad enough at the world that I feel I need to vent, so just let me be. I’m sorry that I upset you but right now let’s just concentrate on finding Ari. Now, go away so I can change.”
Removing his tee-shirt he walked across the room and in the reflection of the mirror, he saw Kennedy’s features twist into sympathy. She always got that way whenever she witnessed the damage his father left behind. The D in science had gotten him a Louisville Slugger across his right shoulder. After several surgeries to repair the shattered bones, the scars were still visible.
He had been recovering in the pediatric wing of Saint Francis Hospital watching the lights on the rides at the county fair several miles away, when he heard someone enter his room. But it wasn’t just anyone; it was Grant Lake, the Keeper of the Union.