Fang Chronicles: Ivan

by D'Elen McClain

  I had just taken a gulp of soda, which snorted from my nose at Cecily’s last comment. This had Rondy laughing until the two of us were practically rolling on the floor. I never knew what this crazy old woman would say next.

  Sleep, breakfast, and the road was our schedule. At least I took a shower before going to bed. Rondy and I had only brought three changes of clothes and they made us look like the equivalent of homeless teens at large. Cecily decked herself out like she was a queen. It never took Cecily long to get ready. She wore pearls, a large brooch, and multiple finger rings with her knee-length dress and sturdy low-heeled shoes.

  We arrived in St. Louis two hours after leaving Columbia. Cecily insisted on stopping at a large variety store so I could pick up bras and other necessities. She purchased a new brooch while we were there and made Rondy and I pick out athletic shoes. His old ones were too small for his growing feet, and his mom’s shoes were too large for me. After lunch we hit the road again.

  “My backside hurts from all this driving. Sometime soon I’ll teach you to drive Bertha,” Cecily said with a quick glance my way. “You’ll need to be careful so you aren’t pulled over, but I’ve decided I’m almost too old to drive.”

  I wondered at what minute in her life over the past few hours she had decided that. She wasn’t too old yesterday. I wisely didn’t mention how many times she drifted across the center line or the car she almost sideswiped in the last parking lot we drove through. I didn’t nap because someone had to keep her attention on the road, especially when she talked.

  Rondy was in the backseat today and he leaned over and made his own complaint. “What about me? I should be driving too.”

  Cecily smacked his arm. “Get back into your seatbelt. No man will ever upset Bertha by controlling her.”

  I bit my lip and didn’t dare look at Rondy.

  We stopped in Carbondale, Kentucky, for the night. Everything ran smoothly until Rondy turned on the television and a picture of Cecily splashed across the screen.

  The commentator’s voice filled our small room. “Three bodies, a missing elderly woman, and her strange phone call to police led detectives to another body and a missing teenage boy. Sources close to the case say seventy-eight-year-old Cecily Bracken called police and reported that the three dead men allegedly tried kidnapping her. She gave police a location for another body, that of Lynette Ortega. Lynette’s missing seventeen-year-old son, Rondy Ortega, is a person of interest. The murders are thought to be gang related. Anyone with information is asked to call their local police department.”

  Cecily grabbed the remote from Rondy and clicked off the television. “Those no good reporters. How dare they give my age. They will be getting a letter of complaint from me when this is over. What are the ladies at the FB going to think now?”

  If things weren’t so dire, I’d be laughing. “We’re not safe here.”

  Cecily glanced my way. “I think you’re right, dear. We’ll leave here, travel another two hours and I’ll explain what you need to do to get us into a room. Your picture is not on the news and you’re the one who will deal with hotels and food from here on out.”

  I didn’t argue because Cecily seemed to know exactly what we needed to do. It was strange, I might seek out the strongest male, but I usually had trouble dealing with dominant people, male or female. My cat never objected to Cecily. And I had no trouble following her directions. I’d spent my life hiding my alpha cat and as I grew older, it became harder. Cecily calmed my cat no matter how bossy she was.

  We pulled our bags and weary bodies back out to the car. After driving for about thirty minutes, Cecily told us how we’d book our next hotel room.

  “How do you know this stuff?” I asked after she filled us in.

  “I helped women get away from violent situations when I was younger. Wife-beating cops were the worst and thank goodness I only dealt with two. Police have access to all types of information so we need to be smart when dealing with them.”

  We pulled over outside the city limits of our town of choice two hours later. I switched places with Cecily and she lay down in the backseat. Rondy scrunched low in the passenger seat. With Cecily giving me directions on driving her precious Bertha, I got us to a small hotel.

  “I need a room for the night,” I told the sleepy male clerk who I woke after pushing the outside buzzer.

  “One or two beds?” he asked.

  “There’s only me, but…” I looked around nervously wringing my hands. “I’m running from my soon-to-be ex. There’s a restraining order, but he crossed it and the police won’t do anything. I need to check in under another name.” I did the look-around thing again and squeezed out a tear. “He’s a cop and he’ll find me. I have a little extra money and I’ll pay you if you don’t write down my real name.” I purposely rushed the words exactly how Cecily instructed.

  His mouth tightened and he shook his head. “What name you using, hun?”

  “Pat, um Patricia Henley.” It was the name of Cecily’s best friend from high school. She’d been dead for ten years.

  “So you need just one bed?”

  “Umm, if it’s all right with you, I’ll take two. I don’t think he’ll find me here, but just in case can you mark down that two or even three people are staying in the room?”

  “It’s an extra ten dollars after two people, but I won’t charge you for giving me an assumed name.”

  I pulled out some cash and placed it on the counter. “Do I have enough?”

  He looked at the money. “How long you staying?”

  “Two or three nights I hope. I need some sleep; I’ve been running for a week.”

  “It’s one ten for two nights with a third person.”

  I counted out one-hundred and ten dollars. “Really, you can take this.” I held out a twenty.

  “Nope, you’re good.” He scooped the money up. “Here, sign this and remember to use the fake name.”

  Just like Cecily said, the guy had done this before. I signed the paper and walked toward the door with a silver key in hand. The hotel was too old for keycards.

  “Patricia?” I turned. “Park directly in front of your room, but don’t back your car in. That’s a dead giveaway to the cops. They’ll walk around and run your plate if they come through the parking lot tonight. If they can see the plate, they usually won’t bother.”

  “Thank you,” I said before the door shut behind me.

  I carried in Cecily’s bag and waited an hour before I went outside and collected Cecily and Rondy from the car. They’d both been sleeping and I needed to do the same thing. I told Cecily everything the clerk said as she sat on the bed sleepily nodding her head.

  “In most of these hotels they aren’t real accommodating with the police,” she said with a grin.

  I had no idea what Rondy and I would do without her. Who would guess this seventy-eight-year-old woman would know how to run from the law?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ivan

  The little four-year-old brat, Jasper, was following me again. I thought I’d scared him off for good, but no such luck. He was sneaky like all cats. I know I terrified his mother and she worried I’d kill the little catnip. I wouldn’t, but I’d be damned if he’d follow me and think he was getting away with it.

  I waited in my human form beside the marsh, hidden in thick reeds and grassy shrubs. He came into my line of sight in his cat form, which only pissed me off more. When he was close enough, I tackled his skinny little feline body and had him on his back with my hand at his throat in seconds. His feline stench only made me angrier. His back claws scratched down my chest as he continued to fight and hiss. I backed up a bit and tossed him ten feet away.

  No, cats don’t always land on their feet. He slid across the water before sinking into a foot of water with a splash. Without a word, I shifted and ran. Then, I was pissed off again because it worried me that he wasn’t smart enough to get out of the water before an alligator ate his mangy little hide. I wou
ld be speaking to his mother when I returned. I’d be damned if he would keep following me. I circled back and made sure he got out of the water before returning to my goal.

  Illegal trappers were hunting on our land and I needed to teach them a lesson. No one entered this territory and took what was ours. The alligators were a pain in my ass, but for some strange reason The Moor liked the ugly reptiles. It would make life easier for my wolf if I liked to eat them, but no… they didn’t taste like chicken.

  I found the tire tracks an hour later. I suspected they were spotlighting the animals at night and killing them. They took the hides and left the rest. I’d found five skinned carcasses over the past two weeks.

  The pathetic side of me actually appreciated this distraction from thoughts of Alba. When I had a mission, I could tuck her safely away. It’s when the days seemed endless and the nights worse that I pulled up her image in my mind and wallowed in self-pity.

  I shook my shaggy head and followed the tracks.

  There were several ways they could get into the marshland and it might take me a few nights, but I would find them. Their tracks led me to a narrow dirt road that was little more than a path. They had plowed their truck right through it and this was as good of a place as any to wait.

  The hours droned on.

  I rubbed my muzzle against Alba’s fur and breathed in her scent. There was nothing like it on earth. I loved that low, contented sound she made that wasn’t quite a growl.

  Sunlight. It pressed against my eyelids.

  I was alone.

  Alba was dead.

  My wolf whined.

  “We need you back here. Something’s come up.” The Moor’s words burst inside my head.

  “I asked for three days,” I projected back.

  “Now, wolf.”

  Dammit, something always came up. Our problems multiplied daily. You couldn’t have a clan with so few people and expect everything to be done without human help. And humans always caused problems. From their smell to their attitude, we needed them out of our fur.

  My powerful legs ate up the ground. I’d never fought a physical battle with The Moor like I had with Marcus, the Southwest Clan’s vampire. Marcus let me work out my frustrations without killing me. The Moor wouldn’t hesitate. He didn’t enjoy a good bloody brawl like I did. But he was my friend and by the tone of his voice, I needed to get back swiftly.

  Three hours later, the two small cabins came into view. Jasper’s mother, Isa, was giving him a ball-tossing lesson, though she had no clue what the hell she was doing. She looked up with fearful eyes when she sensed my approach. The fear never left her gaze, but she gave me a quick nod. The child ran around the side of the shack to hide. I didn’t see Isa’s friend, Mitty, though she wouldn’t be far. I had no idea why they came with us. They had a bond with Becca, The Moor’s mate. It wasn’t a good enough reason to me. They should be with their own kind up north. We didn’t need them here.

  I shifted and opened the door to The Moor’s cabin without knocking. He sat at the table with a candle burning. Heavy material covered the windows and it was hot inside. I glanced at the divider that hid the bed, and I knew Becca slept. Using his foot, The Moor inched out the chair on the opposite side of the table. He grabbed a pair of sweats from under the table and plopped them down. I ignored the sweats and sat my naked ass on the chair.

  The Moor shook his head and threw the sweats at my chest. I was completely lacking in vampire etiquette and preferred my business flapping in the open air. But only because it bothered him. I smiled and grabbed the sweats putting them on without doing much more than lifting my ass an inch off the chair.

  “Satisfied?”

  “With you… never.”

  I waited for The Moor to tell me what the hell was going on. He wanted me here quickly, but he took his time giving me the reason.

  “Would you like some water?”

  “No.” My fingers methodically thrummed the table.

  “I need you to handle a small problem.”

  My fingers never stopped their rhythm.

  “A group of cats is living in the upper tip of Florida. They have females and a child. I want them brought here, minus the males.”

  So I would get to kill a few cats. That almost outweighed the problem about more females surrounding me when this little excursion was over. The shitty part was that we needed men or at least warrior women. The two female cats we had were timid and weak. They did us no good. Not that I would have sex with a smelly cat, but I didn’t even get that non-luxury. They stayed as far from me as possible and never offered. The new additions would be no different. “When do I leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning. You’ll take the van.”

  Great. I hated the thing. It was big and clunky—perfect for transporting cats, but not my favorite vehicle. We were in new territory and until construction had begun on the main house, we kept our wealth hidden as much as possible. Our new home would be ready to move into in a few weeks. Besides the land itself, the house was the only thing The Moor refused to skimp on. It was a Spanish style, three-story monstrosity with a large outdoor area in the middle, complete with swimming pool. There were eight bedrooms and ten bathrooms.

  And I was driving an old van.

  “Anything else you need before I leave?” I couldn’t help my grumpy tone.

  “No dead females unless absolutely necessary.”

  I growled under my breath. “Is there a reason you couldn’t take care of this on one of your midnight excursions with your mate?”

  A touch of amber flared in his eyes. “Yes, there is. You need some distance and maybe killing a cat or two will cool you down. Jasper came back no worse for wear today, but his mother is sick with worry that you’ll do more than try to scare him away.” He gave me a long searching look. “Should she be worried?”

  My growl only got louder. “She needs to keep the brat away from me.” I turned and put my fingers on the door’s handle. I half expected it, but it didn’t matter. The Moor instantly had my throat in a killing grip.

  His voice was low in my ear. “I know you have a death wish, but I’ll never give in. I’ve ordered a feral cage for the main house. After this trip, I’ll have a place you can go to calm down when you need it.”

  The bastard. What pissed me off the most is that I stayed still and didn’t fight his grip. I did have a death wish, but there was a part of me that fought to live. I remained silent.

  “You once called me Morris and friend. Nothing has changed, but you need to fight the evil sickness that weighs you down.” He released me and turned his back.

  He was right. The sickness that invaded my cells was evil. I just had no idea how to stop it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Talya

  We finally made it into Florida and to the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. I was standing on the beach with my bare feet in the white sand. The waves hit the shore in a steady wash and I breathed in deeply. Rondy was thigh deep in the water and trying to talk me in.

  I shook my head. I didn’t enjoy swimming and he didn’t understand why. I had one arm and moved awkwardly in water. Cecily lay on one of the towels we’d bought the day after we arrived. We’d been here for three days now. I wouldn’t go in the water, but there was something about looking out at the endless gulf that gave me hope.

  Rondy bought a Frisbee the first day and taught me to play. It was something I could do one-handed. Playing at anything was new to me. I exercised, trained to fight and kill then exercised some more. That had been my life with my old clan. You could include dishes and other chores in there, but the only thing I did to relax was watch movies. I didn’t play. Rondy wanted me to and Cecily added her two cents.

  “So you’ll look like a one-armed girl throwing a Frisbee. You scared?”

  She was such a feisty old thing, and her words kick-started my first lesson. Now I was addicted. I curled in my arm, remembered to use only a bit of my strength, and tossed the bright yellow disk. Rondy
didn’t move as it glided perfectly into his waiting fingers. We were both tired from running up and down the beach. These tosses were lazy as he cooled off in the water.

  “At least put your feet in,” he shouted.

  “Make me,” I shouted back. I swear Frisbee made me less mature. Rondy and Cecily did the same thing. I was regressing to a time in my life that had passed me by while I did everything I could to stay alive.

  As strange as it sounded… right now, at this moment, I was at peace.

  A short time later, we gathered our things and climbed into our new car. It was only new to us; it wasn’t nearly as old as Bertha, who was now parked in a storage unit in Tennessee. Miss Money Bags paid three grand for the red Honda. I asked where she got all her cash.

  “I’ve been saving for a rainy day my entire life. I never trusted banks and I kept the money hidden in my paperback books upstairs. I figure most thieves to be uneducated and they’d never look inside books. Three men planning to kidnap me or worse constituted a rainy day and I can’t take the money with me when I die.”

  I could only shake my head. The five thousand dollars Rondy and I had was small change compared to Cecily’s money.

  We went back to the hotel, showered, and changed deciding we would eat dinner out instead of calling for delivery. We walked to the restaurant, and now I carried a doggy bag, which I thought was funny. No dog was getting my extra meal.

  Cecily went inside a small boutique while Rondy and I people watched.

  The odor of cat suddenly overwhelmed me. Males.

  “Rondy, get Cecily and take her to another hotel. There are others like me here and they’ll kill us. I’ll lose them and meet up with you later.”

  His eyes scanned the area. “How will you find us?”

  “I’ll follow your scent from here. Do not go back to the other hotel. Go.”

  The three of us had talked about different situations and what we would do. Most of the scenarios had to do with the police. But I told them that male cats in this part of the country would kill me first and ask questions later.