Air: The Elementals Book Two

by L. B. Gilbert

  Acknowledging the possibility, Logan had the disquieting sensation she was still missing something.

  “If that’s true, we’ll never be able to track them,” Mara growled.

  “Which is why we track the gun,” Logan said, beginning to get excited.

  “I told you, everyone here has a gun. This is America. Even some of the females in the pack carry a gun.”

  “Oh, really. Does Wendy werewolf tote a recently fired machine gun in her purse?” she asked caustically.

  Mara scowled at her. “You’re forgetting the gun scent was masked too.”

  “And it will be so long as the enemy is holding them. But once they put them down, that protection will move off—the spell will follow the body of the gunman.”

  Mara shifted her weight. “I still don’t know how we can use this. Are we supposed to run around the entire fucking state trying to catch the scent of a recently fired gun?”

  “We’re looking for two recently fired machine guns. And my guess is they’ll be stored with a cache of other weapons.”

  It made sense that if there were two machine guns, there would be many more.

  “Even my nose isn’t that good,” Mara said, shaking her head. “The scent will fade before too long.”

  “That’s why you’re going to do it from the air with me.” At supersonic speeds.

  Dismay filled Mara’s face. “Um, Logan, are you sure you can take me up too? I know you were able to take Connell up, but…” She trailed off.

  “There’s only one way to be certain,” Logan said impulsively. She held out her hand.

  “If you’re sure…” Mara still looked uncertain but instinct told Logan to do it.

  Connell was hers, and Mara was a part of him, his twin. This will work. It had too. She was going to end this now. Grabbing Mara’s hand, she took to the air, the startled exclamations of several wolves following in their wake.

  43

  Connell cracked an eyelid and winced. The sun was in his eyes, blinding him.

  “He’s waking up.” The flare of light moved away, and he realized someone had been shining a penlight in his eyes.

  His father appeared at his side. Derrick and Charles, another member of his Special Forces unit, were holding him up. The chief looked like hell. “Son, are you all right?”

  No. He felt like shit. “I’ll live. But you look like you got hit with a train,” he said, his voice dry and cracked.

  He tried to get up, but Kiera, their local doctor, tsked and pushed him back down.

  “Ow,” he complained when the skin on his stomach stretched underneath a thick layer of bandages.

  “I think you’ve got a chance at shifting now,” Douglas said, squinting at him. “You feel like pack again.”

  “What?” Connell was startled.

  His father accepted a cane from Kiera. “Your woman did the ritual. If you’re feeling up to it, you should try to shift. It should help knit those bullet holes together.”

  Bullet holes? What bullet holes?

  Derrick read the confusion on his face. “Don’t you remember the ambush?”

  The echoing report of a gun firing filled his head, and he tensed. The memories started flooding back. He knew who had done this. The threat pushed buttons in his psyche. Without meaning to, he shifted.

  A dizzying rush of vertigo swept over him. Blinking, Connell realized he was staring down at his own paws. Like his father, he was a black wolf, with dappled, silver paws.

  Shit, he hadn’t meant to shift yet.

  The howl that ripped from his throat was involuntary. It was a mingled sound of frustration and pain, combined with an unmistakable war cry. Every man in the room stood at attention. They knew the sound well.

  Connell whined. Fuck, his chest hurt. But his father had been right. The wounds on his chest were a little smaller than they had been a moment before. But he had things to say, and, for that, he needed a mouth.

  Tensing, Connell prepared to shift back.

  “No,” his father burst out. “Stay like that for a while. You can’t rush this, or you’ll set yourself back.”

  Shaking his muzzle vigorously, he focused. It hurt like a motherfucker, but he was able to change back. As a man, he fell back on the bed, gasping and sweaty.

  “What the hell, Connell?” his father scolded.

  “It was Bishop,” he gasped, struggling to sit up. “Bishop shot at us.”

  The background murmur of the other wolves in the room died out.

  “No. You’re confused.” Douglas shook his head. “His boy was one of the one’s attacked.”

  “It was him.” Charles moved to help him when he tried to stand. “She reminded me that something was missing,” Connell continued, wincing as he got to his feet.

  “Who?” someone asked.

  “Logan. She asked me if there was something at the attack that shouldn’t have been there. It got me thinking that something was actually missing. It didn’t come to me until much later, but Bishop’s scent is gone. It has been for a while.”

  “No,” his father said. “We would have noticed something like that.”

  “Except we always talked to him at his house or outside. We were so focused on new threats, we didn’t notice his scent was missing when we were out of doors. Inside his house, his scent is all over the place, but it’s old, and we didn’t notice.”

  His father stared at him, unconvinced.

  “I’m telling you he did this. Sammy and Malcolm were surprised. When they were attacked, there was the scent of surprise but not fear—not in Malcolm’s case—because the attack was out of the blue, and it was carried out by someone he knew and trusted.”

  “But there was Sammy too. Bishop wouldn’t do that to his own son.” His father was adamant.

  “Unless he thought it would be a good way to throw suspicion off himself. And I didn’t die. He was probably sure Sammy wouldn’t either. But by the time he got around to Malcolm, he knew he had to start covering his tracks better. Or maybe Malcolm was on to him or saw something we didn’t.”

  “I still don’t believe it.”

  Derrick looked from one of them to the other. “Why don’t we go check out his house? We can see for ourselves if he has his scent masked or not.”

  Connell nodded vigorously and scanned the room. “Wait—where’s Logan?”

  “She took off with your sister a few hours ago.”

  Fuck me. “We’ve got to get to the Kane’s house now. Logan doesn’t know what she’s up against.”

  Was she bulletproof? He had no idea. He hadn’t been to the Kane house in ages. Bishop could have heavy artillery disguised in his backyard.

  “Why would she go there? She doesn’t know what you just told us,” Derrick pointed out.

  “Doesn’t matter. I bet she’s already tracked all this shit to him. If we want a piece of him, we have to hurry.”

  Connell hadn’t been kidding. Being formless did hurt like a motherfucker. Mara was ashamed to admit she’d spent the first few minutes howling her head off until Logan sternly told her to shut up.

  They had been at it long enough that she grew numb and no longer noticed how much pain she was in. Once she did, she began to enjoy the ride. It was like running in the woods—with a jet strapped to her back.

  Mara had always loved running flat out, racing Connell. Her sleeker, more aerodynamic form ensured she usually won despite his larger muscles.

  Here?

  Logan’s voice in her head was very unnerving. They had paused over a farmhouse. Mara waited until her head stopped spinning.

  You don’t have a head, Logan reminded her.

  But I have a sense of smell? And I can see? Elemental magic doesn’t make sense, she thought, wondering vaguely how to avoid having every thought heard. There seemed to be no distinction between thinking and speaking.

  Focus, Mara. Logan sounded as impatient and cocky as she did in real life, whereas her own inner voice was distant and oddly tinny.

&n
bsp; No, she replied after a moment. There was no hint of burnt powder here.

  Her ride didn’t answer, choosing instead to streak to the next house. Mara wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, but since she didn’t have eyelids, she was forced to watch the ground moving at light speed underneath her.

  They rocked abruptly, and Mara wanted to claw at something. The speed was cool, but stopping was absolute shit.

  What about this place?

  Um, I don’t know, she said. There’s something…

  Logan dropped altitude in a dizzying rush, and they circled over the rambling two-story farmhouse. It took her a second to recognize it.

  This is Bishop Kane’s house, she told Logan.

  It had to be a mistake. But the distinctive scent of gunpowder and burnt oil was strong over the shed next to the house. He must have been out hunting, Mara thought, confusion swamping her. It could be the smell of a rifle.

  More like several rifles, Logan chided. Besides, don’t wolves prefer to hunt on four legs?

  Before Mara could brace herself, they were plunging to the ground. Her body came together with a pop, and she immediately bent over to retch. Bile splashed on the ground while she steadied herself against a tree. She held on to the trunk by her nails until she recovered.

  Mara raised her head in time to see Logan stalking to the door of the Kane’s storage shed. She busted the very sturdy lock with one blow and threw the doors open. For a moment, she stood there before shooting a grim look over her shoulder.

  Still reeling from the effects of Elemental air travel, Mara staggered to the door. Inside was a huge cache of weapons. Handguns and rifles hung neatly on shelves next to machine guns of every type and description. There was also a shelf of grenades next to another one of land mines. Most were Claymores, but a few were anti-personnel mines meant for under-the-ground burial. There was even a fucking rocket launcher.

  “Damn it to seven hells,” Mara swore. “What if he mined the woods?”

  Wolves running at top speed might not notice the metallic and chemical smell of a mine until it was too late—especially the cubs who had never been trained to notice such things.

  Logan walked into the shed and reached for two of the Kalashnikov guns on the back shelf. She smelled them and scowled before holding them out to Mara.

  Her stomach had twisted in one huge knot, but she bent over to sniff the barrel of the gun anyway. Not that she needed to. It was clear that the Kalashnikov had been fired recently—within the last six hours.

  “There must be some explanation,” she insisted. “Bishop is my father’s best friend. His own son was attacked and stripped. He’s Connell’s godfather.”

  “Then he must have attacked Sammy to deflect attention from himself,” Logan said implacably. “And if he’s willing to do that, then why would he hesitate to kill someone else’s child?”

  The world spun in an unsteady circle. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick again.”

  The Elemental whirled around on her. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but you’re going to have to nut up,” Logan snapped. “We have to find him now.”

  Mara passed a hand over her eyes. “Fine. I think he’s here. That’s his truck over there,” she said, turning to point at a Ford XLT in the driveway.

  She was still pointing when Yogi came around the corner of the house. He looked tired, but he smiled when he saw them.

  “Hey, I thought I heard voices. I was just about to leave for the hospital. What are you doing here?”

  “Do you know what’s in here?” Mara asked in disbelief.

  “Dad keeps the shed locked in case of thieves. He uses it for his hunting rif…” Yogi’s voice trailed off, and his eyes widened when he saw the veritable arsenal crammed into the small shed.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked, voice strangled.

  “It’s been your father all this time,” she told him, her jaw so tight she could barely form the words.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about your dad shooting my brother. He killed Malcolm and Leeland! Bishop was even willing to sacrifice your own brother!”

  “No.” Yogi shook his head, his face closing up. “You’re wrong. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Then how do you explain all of this stuff? These two guns are the exact same kind used on Connell and his friends.”

  “Maybe he knew already,” Logan said, her eyes narrowed at the young Were.

  “What?” Yogi narrowed his eyes at them. “I would never hurt Connell, and I would kill anyone who threatened my family.”

  Mara turned to Logan. “All I smell is confusion. I don’t think he knew.”

  “My dad didn’t do this,” Yogi insisted harshly, the cords in his neck standing up in stark relief.

  Logan’s head cocked to the side. “Two men are running. Come on, they’re getting away.”

  Mara scrambled after Logan. The Air Elemental was streaking to the front of the house. Bishop and another man were running full tilt to the truck in the drive.

  Bishop had just opened the door when Logan disappeared before her eyes. A gust of wind slammed the door shut, hard. Then Logan was there again, in front of the truck this time. Her fist came down, slamming into it with supernatural strength. Crushing metal shrieked and groaned as she drove a deep furrow in the hood, completely decimating the engine block.

  Bishop and the other Were, whom she recognized as one of the Gibson brothers, spun around and ran for the other vehicle in the drive, an SUV. They were a few yards away when a cyclone appeared out of nowhere. It picked up the heavy vehicle and tossed it like a toy. The SUV landed on its roof next to the house.

  “That was my car,” Yogi yelled. “Everyone needs to stop acting like lunatics! This is all a misunderstanding.”

  He ran ahead, but Mara reached out and snagged his shirt collar. He landed on his ass next to her. “If he isn’t the one, why did he run?” she yelled at him.

  “There’s been a mistake. Don’t let her kill him!” He strained against her hold and struggled to his feet.

  A flash of bright light took them by surprise.

  Her sensitive retinas were burning. Blinking madly, it took Mara several seconds for her vision to clear. Each one felt like an eternity. When she could see again, it was just in time to witness Bishop lobbing another road flare at Logan. Only… it wasn’t a flare.

  A bright blue ball of light hit the tree next to Logan, exploding with a blinding flash. Mara squeezed her eyes shut. Holy shit. Those were spell balls! Bishop had gotten those from a witch.

  “This is fucking insane,” Yogi breathed. He looked wrecked, confirming to her that he hadn’t known what was going on. “We have to stop this!”

  He turned to her, grabbing her arm, but she shook it off. Without warning, she hauled off and struck out with her fist, sucker punching him in the face. Yogi crumpled to the floor.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you interfere,” she apologized to his motionless form.

  He didn’t answer. Swallowing hard, she wiped sweat from her face before running to join Logan.

  The Gibson brother had disappeared, but Bishop was crouched in front of a boulder, fending off Logan by hurling vials at her from a bag she hadn’t noticed at first. They ignited in midair, turning into fiery comets you couldn’t look directly at.

  Logan dodged the balls easily, whipping in one direction, and then another. She disappeared and reappeared closer to him, but had to duck because his Were reflexes let him throw with deadly accuracy.

  As quick as she was, the Air Elemental couldn’t avoid all the projectiles. As she watched, one of the vials hit her full in the chest. Logan looked down at the bubbling black mass covering her left shoulder and breast. It sizzled, and Mara smelled burning flesh before Logan passed a hand over it. The wind blew the dark goo off her, leaving a patch of red, raw skin visible on either side of her tank top strap.

  Mara was going to ask if she was okay, but the words g
ot stuck in her throat when a dark shape streaked toward them. The Gibson brother hadn’t left. He leaped toward Logan, his fangs bared and aimed at her throat.

  Faster than her eyes could follow, Logan batted the Gibson shithead off her. He landed on the floor on his back, but he twisted around with a vicious snarl.

  Mara reacted. She didn’t have time to shift, but she had spent years training to fight in human form with Connell.

  Stepping forward, she protected Logan’s flank. Gibson snarled at her and feinted right, trying to trick her into leaving Logan exposed. Mara didn’t fall for it. She threw her arms out, catching him in mid-leap. Then she was consumed, struggling with a snarling, snapping ball of teeth and razor-sharp claws. In the background, she heard loud booming noises and an unearthly shrieking she belatedly realized was the wind.

  Mara stifled a cry as one of those claws raked across her stomach. Spinning viciously, she gritted her teeth and punched with all her strength. She only succeeded in rocking Gibson’s head back. His muzzle dripped with blood, but he squirmed and snapped, missing her jugular by an inch.

  She threw him off. He landed hard on the ground but jumped right back up again, snarling. Undaunted and furious, she growled back. When he leapt at her, she had a plan.

  The Gibson brother was strong. He didn’t need much of a running start to get airborne. His powerfully muscled hind legs bunched, and he was halfway to her throat before she could blink.

  As soon as he was close enough, Mara slammed her hands down over his muzzle, forcing it closed. Pulling him closer, she hugged him to her, so close his claws couldn’t shred her.

  Mara closed her eyes and held tight, squeezing with every ounce of strength she had. Her muscles screamed and her ribs groaned, but she kept trying to crush him until her biceps locked. Ignoring the painful burning, she kept going until the snapping tree branch sound of breaking bone filled the air.

  Gibson’s high-pitched whine was abruptly cut off when she dropped him on the ground. He tried to crawl away from her, but she hauled him back. Stepping over him, she took hold of his head and twisted. His neck snapped, and the asshole finally stopped moving.