Bobcat: Tales of the Were (Redstone Clan) (14 page)

“What? What did you see?” Serena prompted.

Bob looked straight at her. “I saw a
Venifucus
mark on his hand. Clear as day. When I took my hand off the cross, it was gone. I did it three times, just to be sure. Touching this cross somehow allows me to see the evil magic marks like the priestess and Slade can.”

“Marks?” Serena looked confused and he realized she probably hadn’t been briefed on such things.

Bob explained briefly about the drawings that had been circulated around his Clan. “It’s a rare talent to be able to see hidden magic, but a few of our people have it. The marks aren’t visible to normal eyesight. I’ve never seen one before except in those drawings, but I definitely saw one today.”

“So what do we do now?” Serena looked upset, but there wasn’t much he could do about it right now. Not with the possibility that they were being watched from a distance.

“I’m going to putter around and take some photos. I’ll also be doing recon while I’m at it. I want you to stay in here and lay low. He could be watching. Open the little panels in the back and keep an eye out. I won’t be far. If you see anything, tap twice on the side of the SUV. I’ll come running. I should only be about fifteen or twenty minutes, then we can move on.”

He wished he had better words of reassurance for her. She looked scared, but determined at the same time.
Ata girl.
She was made of strong stuff, this mate of his. She would hold tight for a few more minutes before he could get them someplace where he could take her in his arms and calm her fears the way he wanted to—with soft words and loving caresses.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.
Parker thinks I’m human. Catholic too, if you can believe it.” He chuckled and she seemed to find the humor in the situation.

Most shifters worshiped the Mother of All. While
Bob respected his priest friend’s beliefs, he knew most Catholics would view shifters as pagans of the first order. But shifters were more accepting of other beliefs, most acknowledging that there was no one true way. They followed the Goddess, preferring to see the hand of the divine in the sacred feminine, but Bob had respected Farther Vincenzo’s devotion to the male God he had dedicated his life to.

Who was Bob to put limitations on the divine? Such things were way above his pay grade and he
had learned there were many paths that led to the same place. As long as a person believed in the Light—in doing good and shunning evil—then he was okay in Bob’s book. And some, like Father Vincenzo, were even more okay than others.

The older man had had a shining spirit and a kind face. He’d been willing to guide a confused young shifter—even though they
had never really discussed Bob’s true nature—and help him figure out things about life that had helped shape him into the man he had become. Only now, years later, did Bob fully understand the value of the good Father’s guidance—and the extraordinary nature of the gift he’d given Bob when he had left Rome.

“When you get back, I want to hear all about the man who gave you that cross.”

Bob thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. If he was going to share the story with anyone, it would be Serena. The cougar inside him was possessive of her and the man wanted to earn her love. Both parts of him wanted her…forever.

He knew that meant sharing things he wouldn’t readily tell others. If he wanted her to trust him, he
would have to do the same for her.

“All right. When I get back.” He wanted so badly to kiss her, to hold her and reassure her, but it just wasn’t possible
at the moment, while the might be under observation. He sought and held her gaze, laying a little part of his heart on the line. “You’re so incredibly special to me, Serena. I hope you know that.”

She nodded slowly, a dazzled smile breaking just slightly over her gorgeous mouth. As if she
was unsure. As if she was hopeful. He could pretty well guess what she was feeling because he had to admit, he felt just about the same way, if he was being honest.

“I’ll be back shortly. Sit tight and keep watch.”

He knew he had to leave now or he would blow their cover and climb into the back of the SUV with her. If that Parker guy, or any of his ilk were watching, that would cause problems, but Bob was just about at the point that he didn’t give a damn.

Forcing himself to leave her,
he stepped back and closed the door. Each step he took away from her was like a chore. Resolutely, he set up his lightweight tripod and attached the camera. Moving quickly now, he took a few shots of the ghost town, moving steadily through, using his viewfinder and his nose to tell him the story of the place.

Wolves had been there recently, but not within the past day or so. He could smell their presence all over the site, but these weren’t just any wolves. No, these were werewolves.

Something had brought the Pack Serena had mentioned up from the southern part of the Cascades. Bob didn’t know what could’ve caused such a migration, and he didn’t dare hazard a guess. It could be any one of a number of things—all of them bad.

Either the
werewolves were servants of the Lady and Her Light, or they were in league with the
Venifucus
. If the former, they were probably on the run. If the latter, they were doing the chasing.

Bob didn’t want to chance running into them until he knew for sure one way or the other. He took photos and did a full circuit of the town in as little time as possible. He also took several shots of the surrounding area. He could study them on his screen later and look for visual clues. He could also forward anything interesting he might find to his brothers. If there’s one thing his older brothers had taught him, it was that
good recon was never wasted.

As a result, Redstone Construction kept files on many and varied locations all over the globe. Bob’s interest in photography had started because he
had been told to record observations of his travels when he had gone off on his own several years back. Being young and foolish, he had bought a camera and figured the lens could do his work for him. What he hadn’t counted on was finding a love of the gadgetry and skill it took to make a good photograph.

What had started out as a small rebellion against his older brothers nagging turned into an enjoyable and som
ewhat successful hobby that he had never outgrown. His photos nowadays went both into the family archives and the Clan’s files. Dual purpose and doubly useful both artistically and informationally.

He finished up and packed his gear, heading for the SUV. Serena hadn’t made any sounds and Bob didn’t see anything
out of order, so he packed up casually, then climbed into the vehicle, aware he could still be under observation.

“Stay in back until we’re under some cover. We’re more exposed out here than I’d like and a
good scope might possibly see through the light tint on the windshield. You’re better hidden back there for now.”

“Okay,” came Serena’s quick answer.

Bob didn’t speak again until he was back on the road. There wasn’t a lot of traffic on the road, but there was some, which was both comforting and a little worrying. The other cars could contain just innocent humans going about their business, or they could contain those in league with the bad guys. Drug runners. Hostile shifters.
Venifucus
agents.

“I smelled werewolves in the ghost town.
They were probably there within the past day or two. What can you tell me about the wolf Pack that lives farther down the range?” Bob asked once they were on the road, heading in the general direction of their next target.

“Not much. Our Clan hated them. There were occasional border skirmishes
and we always managed to push them back into their own territory. There was one incident though…” her voice trailed off as she seemed to think back. Bob could see her in the rearview mirror and she met his gaze in reflection when she spoke. “It was a bad business. One of their young women was caught in our territory she was hurt bad before she escaped.”

“Was she attacked? Raped?” Bob asked in a firm, quiet voice.

Serena nodded, her eyes sad. “I think so.”

“Do you know who did it?”

“I’m very much afraid my adoptive father, Jack, had something to do with it,” Serena admitted, feeling both shame and anger. “And I think it was Jezza who freed her and helped her get back to her Pack. I know she made it home because Jack was up in arms when the wolf Alpha sent a message stating that the Pack would seek justice for their injured daughter. He laughed, but I could see he was nervous about having pushed the wolves a little too far.”

She paused only a moment before continuing. “Lizzy was worried the argument between the Pack and our Clan would interrupt the drug trade. The humans they were dealing with who supplied the drugs to carry across the border weren’t the forgiving type and they knew what we are. Lizzy said they carried silver ammunition in their guns. She was terrified they were going to shoot Jack, while I was
secretly hoping for it.”

Bob reached back and grasped her hand, squeezing lightly. He was such a good man. So ready to offer her comfort. She didn’t feel weak with him. No, his strength helped her find her own and she finally understood how things should be between people who cared about each other.

She had been learning about friendship from the Lords and their people—especially the High Priestess, Bettina. But Bob took it deeper. His kind gestures were a thousand times more meaningful and his encouragement brightened her world. A simple smile from him lightened her heart and made her feel as if she could handle just about anything—as long as he was by her side.

“So the wolves aren’t on good terms with the bobcats?” Bob’s quiet question dragged her back from her reverie as he removed his hand and put it back on the wheel. He was driving, after all, and the position had been awkward with her still in the back of the vehicle.

“Not by a long shot. The last I knew, the wolves had sworn blood feud on my former Clan. The girl was just the most recent—and most heinous—of the conflicts between the two groups.” She met his gaze in the mirror and saw a speculative gleam enter his eyes. “Is that helpful?”

“Not sure. It could be. I’d rather not get in the middle of a blood feud, but it’s possible it could work to our advantage in some way. For now, it’s just good to know.”

He quieted and she knew he was thinking about what she had told him. They entered a section of road where the trees were thick and he pulled over, stopping the SUV.

“You can climb up front if you want. I’m going to check something.” He got out of the vehicle and jogged around the back.

She maneuvered herself back into the passenger seat and waited. He wasn’t long in returning and he had a deep frown on his face as he climbed back into his seat.

“What’s wrong?”

He held up a little black plastic thing with a wire coming out of it. She didn’t recognize it, but the look on his face said it was nothing good.

“I thought I felt a little impact as we rejoined the road. Somebody shot this at us and it adhered to the back rear panel. If I’m not much mistaken, it’s some kind of tracking device. And I think our friendly Border Patrol agent is probably the one who tagged us.”

“Oh, no.” Her stomach twisted with knots of worry. “What do we do now?”

He shrugged, but his gesture didn’t allay her fears. “He can track us this far. Probably knows I stopped for a bit. When we get going again, I’ll drop the tracker out the window once I spot a good sized bump in the road or
big pothole. If he checks, he’ll probably think it came loose on its own. We haven’t met up with the main road yet, so he doesn’t really know which way I’m heading yet.”

“Do you think that’s the only tracker or might there be more?”

“Now that I know they’re playing dirty, it won’t matter. There’s a gizmo in the glove compartment that should block the signal. Only drawback is we can’t listen to the radio or make calls. It blocks everything.” He looked at the clock on the dashboard. “It’s almost noon. I’m going to check in with Steve, then switch on the jammer until we get to the caves. With any luck, we’ll find our quarry there. If not, we’ll figure out what we do from there. Cell phones will work if we get about twenty yards from the vehicle while the jammer is on, so if we stop someplace relatively safe, I can still check in with Steve.”

He leaned over, reaching for the glove compartment. His muscular arm brushed past her and made her remember more intimate moments they had shared. There was no denying the attraction that sizzled between them, but she knew now was not the time to be thinking about getting busy with the sexy cougar.
With any luck, there would be plenty of time for them later—when it was safer.

Bob took a small device from inside the
glove compartment that looked like a tiny transistor radio. He held it in one hand while he placed the noon call to his brother.

“Hey Steve,” Bob greeted his brother when the other man picked up the phone. They exchanged a few words before Bob got to the meat of his report. He told his brother about the Border Patrol agent and the tracker. Steve agreed with his plans to use the jamming device
.

“It looks like the attack on shifter leaders was
even more extensive than we thought,” Steve told them. “Reports have been trickling in. A few leaders were killed or injured globally, but the seconds and heirs are stepping up in most cases. The Lords are coordinating North American efforts, even though they’re still pinned down in their territory. So far, they’re holding strong, but it’s definitely a siege up there right now.”

Bob told Steve their plans for the afternoon and they ended the call shortly thereafter
. He then plugged the device he had taken from the glove box into an outlet hidden in the center console. He pulled back onto the road and before long they spotted a pretty big pothole. Bob lowered his window and threw the little black tracker out of it without slowing down.

He rolled the window back up and reached toward the console.
The jamming device activated with the push of a button.

“There. That should do it. We won’t have any comms until we shut that off.
For now, we’re running silent.”

“You’ve got the spy lingo down pat, haven’t you?” she joked, feeling a moment of humor despite the desperate situation.

The news about the Lords and their continuing troubles on the mountain had hit her pretty hard. If the enemy was that well armed and coordinated to launch simultaneous attacks all over the globe, then they were up against something a lot bigger than anybody had expected. The picture became clearer with each new report and it kept getting worse.

But somehow, being with Bob helped. He was the first man in her life who made her feel like a desirable woman. Not only that, but he made her feel valued and like she was part of something important. Like she was important to him on a personal level she
had never wanted before with any other man.

Bob was different. He was good and strong and kind. He had patience with her insecurities and encouraged her in a gentle way to be stronger than she ever thought she could be. In just the short time she’d known him, he
had managed to bring out the best in her and she really liked the person she was when she was with him.

If the world ended tomorrow, she was glad she’d had what little time they’d had together. In their brief time
together, he had changed her for the better and there was no going back to the timid, scared mouse she had been. Somehow, she had found her courage with his help. She had discovered the heart of the wild cat in her soul, the spirit that would not surrender to fear or intimidation anymore.

And she ha
d discovered desire the likes of which she had never experienced or expected. Bob made her want him without even trying. Just by being him—by breathing—she desired him. She wanted to claim him as her own and never let him go. For whatever time they had left, she wanted to spend it with him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bob teased her as they drove along in silence.

“Not sure they’re worth that much,” she replied, hiding the true direction of her thoughts out of habit. She didn’t feel quite secure enough yet to talk about their relationship—such as it was—out in the open, so she decided to change the direction of her thoughts and their conversation. “You promised to tell me about the cross,” she prompted, as if that was what had been occupying her mind.

“Ah, yes.” Bob paused,
checking their surroundings and the road before glancing her way briefly. “I suppose that’s only fair.” He made a turn onto the road that would lead them closer to the caves and drove at a steady pace. “I suppose you know how cats like to roam. Cougars are no exception. After we got out of school, all of us took off for a year or two, one by one. Grif joined the Army. Steve followed in his footsteps. Mag traveled through South America for a while and a year or two later, I headed to Europe. I bounced around from country to country for a while until landing in Italy, of all places. In Rome, I met a Catholic priest named Father Vincenzo. He was a funny little fellow, kind of grizzled and old, and I was honest with him from the beginning, explaining that I wasn’t a Catholic.”

Bob glanced at her before continuing.
“I was attracted to his church because of the architecture. It was really old and he told me the foundations of it went all the way back to Roman times. We began talking that first day and I asked his permission to take some photos. He wanted to know more about my skills before he agreed to let me shoot inside the church, so we made arrangements to share lunch the next day so I could show him some of my work.”

The smaller road became more challenging and he negotiated some tight curves before continuing his story. “We had lunch and he liked the images I showed him. He asked that I return the next day to attend a mass. He didn’t care that I wasn’t Catholic, but he wanted me to see the true f
unction of the church before he would agree to let me take pictures of it. He said he wanted me to understand the soul of the building and the people who cared for it. He claimed it would help me understand how to capture its essence in my photographs.”

“Sounds like he was an artist at heart,” Serena observed. “And a bit of a romantic, as well.”

“He has the soul of a poet,” Bob agreed fondly. “I attended the mass as requested and felt… Well, it’s hard to describe. The mass was in Latin and I don’t know much of the language, so it pretty much flew right over my head, but that hour was one of the most peaceful hours I’ve spent anywhere on earth. Whatever else was going on there, the spirit of the place was one of comfort, understanding and acceptance. It just felt…good. In a way I can’t really describe adequately.”

“Sounds like it really made an impression on you.” She looked at his face, so strong and sure. His eyes were full of memories of a place he had come to love, if she wasn’t much mistaken.

“I spent a few weeks shooting interiors, exteriors—shots from the belfry, shots from the roof. I climbed all over that old church and attended mass almost every day. It didn’t matter that I didn’t understand a word of what was going on. I just sat in the back and soaked up the peace of the place and the magic of the man who brought it forth. Every afternoon, Father Vincenzo would sit with me for a while and we would talk. Mostly about unimportant things, but there were a few conversations that will stick with me for the rest of my life.”

“How so?” She was intrigued by his words and the almost awe-filled tone of his voice.

“Being a Redstone can be a little overwhelming at times. When I set out on my journey, we had just lost my older sister. She died violently and it rocked my world. She and I had been especially close as children, but when she moved to live with her mate’s Clan, we lost touch. I blamed myself for that. And for what ultimately happened. Her death weighed on me along with my grief and sorrow. Father Vincenzo helped me work through it and put me on the road to being a better person. He helped me heal, when I thought I was beyond repair. He gave me back my hope, which had been lost along with my sister. And he never asked anything in return. Father Vincenzo did this for all of his flock. He is a truly great man.”

“He’s the one who gave you the cross then?”

“Yeah. Eventually I got a call from Grif, asking me to come home. I know Grif wouldn’t have asked such a thing lightly. He had taken his time away from the Clan, and I know he respected the rest of our rights to do the same, but the construction company was at a critical stage in its growth and he needed all hands on deck. Right before I left for home, on that final day, Father Vincenzo gave me the cross. I tried to turn it down at first when I opened the plain wooden box and saw the silver inside. He stopped me, placing his old, gnarled hand over mine and met my gaze. He said,
I know what you are. I have always known. The Holy Mother looks after your kind as the Father tends His flock. Accept this gift in memory of me. It will bring you good fortune and it will protect you and always return you safely to your home. Wear it when you travel and do not fear the metal. Touch it and you’ll see,
he told me. I didn’t know what to think, but I reached into the box with one finger. I touched the cross and it didn’t have that icy burn I associate with silver. In fact, the metal felt warm in a comforting way, not painful at all.”

“I can’t even imagine that. Silver is something I’ve always avoided.” She shivered, thinking about it. “But I s
ee how you wear that cross next to your skin. I can’t believe it’s real silver.”