Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (28 page)

―Close your eyes and look around. It‘s kinda in the back somewhere. Glows just a tad.‖ His

expression held a challenge she couldn‘t refuse.

She shut her eyes. Yeah, okay, it was dark. Everything was black. She pretended her gaze

turned in a circle, from the front around to the... Oh, shit. Her spine stiffened like someone had yelled, Attention!

―Yeah. Thought so,‖ Alec murmured.

“Oh. My. God.” Her eyes opened and she glared. ―There is a fucking door-thing in my

brain.‖

He tried to smile, but she could see how much of an effort it was.

Another realization twisted her guts. ―Did you know him? The feral?‖ she asked softly.

He nodded. ―Fergus taught me to hunt when I was growing up.‖

Oh, God, there was no comfort to be offered here. „To the legion of the lost ones, to the

cohort of the damned.‟ Vic moved to sit beside him, taking his hand between hers. ―He was

older?‖

His fingers curled around hers as if to a lifeline. ―About Aaron‘s age. He‘d never lifemated

anyone, and his only family, a littermate, died last week.‖

―Are you saying he wasn‘t mentally ill? Depression made him go feral?‖

Alec kissed her fingers and enfolded her hand in his. ―If a shifter has no loved ones or

family, no ties to pull him back to the human side, then some turn, and unfortunately, loneliness and grief warps them, driving them to mindlessly attack.‖

Holy fuck. Fear shot straight to her insides and clung there, claws digging in deep. She didn‘t have any family. No loved ones. So if she shifted, she might not come back. Helen must have

known Fergus too—and he‘d savaged the sweet woman. She shivered.

―Vicki, it‘s not really—‖

―Oh hey,‖ she said. ―I‘m supposed to help Heather make cookies.‖ She rose and smiled

down at him, her heart aching as if she‘d already decided. ―I‘ll bring you back some sweets.‖

* * *

After helping Heather bake, Vic had been dragged away by Jamie to play cut-throat

Monopoly with her friends. Vic had gone bankrupt, and she wasn‘t sure if she was pissed-off at

losing so badly or proud of the munchkin for doing so well. ―You have a head for business, kid,‖

she told Jamie on the way back to Aaron‘s.

―I know.‖ She gave Vic a smug look. ―Daddy‘s teaching me to do the books for the tavern.‖

―Ugh. Better you than me.‖ She‘d rather fight a nice bloody battle any day. In the house, she

stopped, staring across the room.

Sarah sat beside Alec on the small couch—where he and Vic had talked earlier. Cleavage

was snuggled up to him so closely she was almost on his lap. Her dark head rested on his

shoulder as they talked together in low voices.

Vic swallowed and followed Jamie to the kitchen where Aaron had his hands deep in bread

dough.

―Where‘s Daddy?‖ Jamie asked, snatching a tiny piece of dough and stuffing it into her

mouth.

Aaron pulled the ball of dough closer to him and continued kneading. ―Gretchen came to get

him a while back. They haven‘t returned.‖

Vic‘s lungs weren‘t getting enough air, and her hands felt colder now than they had outside.

―Why don‘t you stay and help Aaron, Jamie? I‘m going to take a break.‖

―Sure.‖

Vic ruffled Jamie‘s hair and left the room. Okay then. Apparently that was that. Her decision was made.

So why didn‘t she feel good about it?

Calum covered a yawn as he walked into the kitchen early the next day. He and the Elders

had stayed up most of the night, hammering out contingency plans in case the Daonain were

exposed by the arseholes trying to catch shifters. Although well hidden, the Elders were the least

mobile of the clan. Part of the reason he‘d visited was to ensure they understood the seriousness

of the threat and were prepared to run if needed.

Beside Alec at the counter, Jamie grinned over her shoulder. ―We‘re making pancakes.‖

―Impressive accomplishment.‖ Calum kissed the top of her head, smiled at Alec, and looked

around. Aaron liked to sleep late, but Victoria seemed like a dawn riser. ―Did you leave Victoria

sleeping?‖

Jamie had her lip tucked between her teeth as she concentrated on pouring the perfect

amount of pancake dough into the frying pan. ―She‘s already up.‖

―Ah. She probably went out for a walk.‖

The batter sizzled as it dropped onto the hot skillet, and the scent of pancakes filled the

kitchen. Alec‘s stomach growled audibly. ―I get the first one.‖

Calum tilted his head. ―I believe that reputable cooks serve others first.‖

―But Jamie wouldn‘t let her beloved uncle starve, would she?‖

She frowned from one to the other, and a sly smile spread over her face. ―I don‘t want you

arguing with Daddy, so I‘d better eat the first one.‖

―Even in an emergency, she keeps her head.‖ Calum grinned at Alec, his pride making his

heart swell.

The breakfast, although he didn‘t get the first pancake, tasted very good. ―You‘re turning

into a fine cook, Jamie,‖ Calum said. ―Since you did most of the work, Alec and I will clean up.

Meanwhile, you can pack. We‘ll leave soon.‖

―Oh, Daddy. Do we have to go?‖

―I have a business; Alec is sheriff.‖ He gave her a stern look. ―And you have school.‖

―Well, poop.‖

As Jamie trotted to her room, Calum poured himself another cup of coffee, then studied his

brother whose face was still lined, eyes weary. They‘d both had to kill clanmates; it never grew

easier. ―Are you all right, brawd?‖

Alec shrugged. ―It‘ll take a while. Talking with Vicki helped.‖

Hoping to divert Alec from his grief, Calum asked, ―Was Sarah as helpful?‖

―You bastard, abandoning your own littermate like that. By the God, I‘d rather put a leg in

an iron trap than be alone with that female. Would you believe she bawled over Fergus‘s death,

and a second later climbed in my lap?‖

―For a cahir, you certainly get trapped easily.‖

―And you didn‘t?‖ Alec smirked.

Calum winced. Overly sweet females made his fangs hurt. ―I eventually managed to scrape

Gretchen off by siccing Maude on her.‖

A door slammed, and Jamie ran into the kitchen, waving a piece of paper. ―Daddy, all

Vicki‘s stuff is gone! This was on the bed.‖

His blood stopped in his veins. Calum opened the note as Alec read over his shoulder.

I‘m returning to my normal life. I can‘t risk being a feral.

Please don‘t come after me.

Give Jamie a hug for me,

Vic

Calum‘s hand crumpled the paper as an icy blizzard lashed at his soul. She left us.

Alec‘s expression held the same devastation. ―My fault,‖ Alec said, his voice hoarse. ―I

didn‘t explain well enough. Why would she think she‘d go feral?‖

―You did your best, as did I. It is her decision to make.‖

―Did Vicki go away? Without saying goodbye?‖ Jamie‘s eyes filled with tears, and Calum

pulled her into his arms.

―She did. She returned to her own home, and I think it‘s time we went to ours.‖

* * *

Swane walked through the shack he‘d rented close to Cold Creek. Since Vidal couldn‘t

leave his business in Seattle, it was only him and the old woman he‘d snatched. What a shame—

for her—that she and her fat dog had chosen to walk in the deserted park.

Although he‘d had a tranq gun ready, she hadn‘t transformed when he‘d kicked her dog or

grabbed her, so she probably wasn‘t a shifter. Even so, the nosy biddy was friends with everyone

in town. If any of those monsters lived in Cold Creek, she‘d know.

He shoved open the door to the bedroom. Wasn‘t she a nice sight, tied so neatly in the

straight-backed chair? ―Hello there.‖ He tossed his bag of tools at her feet, then ripped off the

duck tape that had covered her mouth. Some skin came with it, and blood oozed.

She blinked away tears. ―Wh-what do you want? I don‘t have much money, but you can

have it. J-just let me go!‖ Her eyes were terrified in the wrinkled face.

Swane‘s breathing sped up. He got a better rush out of anticipation than from snorting coke.

Fuck, he‘d missed interrogating prisoners. Maybe wereboy‘s resistance had been an ego blow,

but this old bitch‘d spill her guts within an hour. Not that it would do her much good.

―I don‘t need money, Mrs. Neilson.‖ Considering he‘d earn a cool half-mill once his boss

learned to shift. He dragged over a chair and sat in front of her, knee to knee. ―That‘s your name,

right? Irma Neilson? You don‘t mind if I call you Irma, do you?‖

She shook her head frantically. ―But—‖

He slapped her, open-handed across the face. ―First—the rules. I don‘t hear your fucking

voice unless I ask a question. Got it?‖

A trickle of blood ran from her lip. Her eyes were shocked.

Probably never been hit in her secure life. And nope, she wasn‘t a werecreature or she‘d

have changed into a cat by now. ―We‘re going to talk about monsters, Irma. People who turn into

mountain lions. Know what I mean?‖

From the slight widening of her eyes, the twitch of her fingers, she knew exactly what he

meant.

―Tell me who they are.‖ He picked up a pair of pliers from the bag. ―Then tell me who they

love.‖

Winter camping for days. This had to be one of the stupidest stunts she‘d ever pulled. Vic‘s

hood brushed against a pine branch and dislodged a flurry of snow onto her shoulders. Taking a

moment, she oriented herself to the four gray, bare patches on a high, white-covered peak. They

looked like claws, she‘d thought, when they‘d hiked to Elder Village.

That time seemed a lifetime ago. The first day had been sheer misery...and mourning...but

then, she‘d done better. It was as if the surrounding snow had drifted around her heart also. Soon,

her life would go back to the way it had been before without the impossible dream of having a

family. A place to fit in.

Maybe if the danger was only to her, she might have stayed. But the memory of Helen‘s

blood splattering the snow made Vic‘s stomach tighten. If I turned feral—what an ugly word—

then I‟d hurt others, not just me. The risk that she‘d turn into one seemed way too high. She had no home. No family. No ties to keep her human. She‘d never really belonged anywhere besides

the military. Although she‘d briefly hoped to be one of the shifter clan, visiting Elder Village had

taught her the futility of that—half the time she hadn‘t understood what they were talking about.

Of course, it might be fun to be a cougar with big teeth and claws and run into the Ice Queen

or Cleavage. Hooyah, she‘d give a whole new meaning to nasty feral. Now if bitch one and two

were the only ones she might attack, she‘d do that trawsfur thing in a heartbeat.

But apparently a feral didn‘t choose its victims. No one could hate Helen, yet Fergus had

tried to kill her. And if I attacked Jamie? The thought of hurting the child, slashing, biting was gut wrenching.

Hell, the kid was probably already hurt. She imagined Jamie‘s face at finding the note and

cringed inside. Coward much, Sergeant? God, she‘d never imagined how enormously she‘d miss

the munchkin. So bouncy and loving.

Was I ever that carefree? Saying just what she thought, screaming with laughter, hugging

people? No. Growing up in the Mid-East as a hated American had set an early curb on her

tongue. Her mouth tightened. Her father had doled out love, praise, and hugs only when she‘d

proven useful in some way, like putting on a diplomatic dinner or returning with interesting

market gossip. Maybe that‘s why Jamie‘s—and Calum and Alec‘s—easy affection was so

disconcerting.

Dammit, she wasn‘t going to think about them. Her throat tightened as if a garrote drew

tight around it. The sex had been…wondrous, but what she really missed was how the men

touched her so often. So lovingly. The way Calum would run a finger down her cheek, or Alec

tuck an arm around her waist and pull her close. As if she belonged beside them. She swallowed

hard and blinked back tears, then bent her head and concentrated on the trail. Footstep after

footstep.

On reaching the summit, she stopped to catch her breath. Fat puffs of snow had started

falling, and the dark clouds warned of more to come. As her eyes rested on the forested slopes

and the white-covered peaks, quiet wrapped around her.

Once she‘d stopped crying and listened to the silence, she‘d started to feel the strength that

existed deep within the wilderness—and her connection to it. Like going into a firefight, and

knowing your teammates had your back.

She shook her head. As she‘d walked, miserable and trying not to cry, she‘d felt it, pulling

her in. Somehow this place was...was like a part of her. Like she‘d found a piece that had been

missing.

But she‘d also acquired something else. Closing her eyes, she could see in the dark of her

mind, that fucking door. It glowed now around the edges, like light seeped through from some

other place. Five years ago, she‘d gotten stranded in the desert. Drank the last of her water. By

the time she‘d reached the military outpost her entire body had craved fluids, and then a soldier

had held out a canteen.

She wanted to open that door even more than she‘d wanted that canteen.

Not gonna happen. She deliberately turned away from the inner door and opened her eyes.

She sighed, her breath a puff of mist in the air. There was no way to win this fight. “We have

done with Hope and Honour, We are lost to, Love and Truth, We are dropping down the ladder