Python's Embrace (Bitten Point Book 3) (8 page)

T
he memory took
her by storm.

The shove in her back propelled her forward, and she stumbled, her hand flailing out and grasping the metal rods of a cell door. Actually, she noted as she peered around, they were cages. Not very big ones either, just deep enough for the occupant to sleep stretched out.

Between the cages were spaces wide enough that, despite the arms stretching through, they couldn’t touch anyone else.

The scrabble of claws drew her frantic gaze to the cage she clutched.

Fingers, half flesh toned, half pale gray furry tufts, clung at the bars. Big eyes, blue and wide with fear and panic, peered at her. The mouth, protruding from the face, rounded in an O, and the most horrible sound emerged from the mouth.

More horrifying than its appearance was the realization it was a child, a teen she’d wager, given the skateboarding T-shirt and surfer board shorts it wore.

“You are looking upon the next generation,” a voice whispered by her ear. “And you’ll get to be a part of it, too.”

Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell them any more than that. The scene unfolded itself in a blink within her mind, leaving her with the memory of the eyes, so sad behind the bars caging it. That creature still had some humanity left to it, but barely. This thing, lying dead on the ground? All monster.

It was decided to keep the body a secret for the moment, and not because they feared trouble if they brought it to the right authorities. Any creature attacking was fair game. In the shifter world, if someone had gone wild and posed a danger to others, especially humans and their love of discovery, then swift measures had to be taken. Usually permanent measures. Justice arrived on swift wings.

She blinked as the knowledge became available.

“I say we keep it to ourselves for now. Daryl’s got a friend who might be able to look at it,” Caleb told them.

“Do it. I mean, giving it to the friend can’t be any worse than the one we stashed at Bittech. Maybe this time it won’t disappear, and we won’t get bullshit reports that what we found was a regular animal.

Bittech. Bittech. Bittech. Once Caleb left with the carcass, his mother in tow to stay with Renny and Luke, Aria found herself alone with Constantine. And his dog, a chaperoning Princess.

Chastity belts had nothing on that dog. Every time Aria got anywhere close to Constantine, the mutt wedged her way between them.

Being a man, he was oblivious to the game his dog played, but Aria recognized it, and she wouldn’t let it get in her way.

Way of what?

Claiming Constantine.

What? She refused to think upon it. Not when she needed to assert herself.

The maturity level in the room when her big angel left to use the washroom dropped considerably when Aria got down on her knees to growl at Princess. In her defense, the dog started it.

When he returned, it was to find Aria perched on a stool, looking perfectly prim and behaved.

“Did I hear Princess growling at something?”

Her lip twitched. “I think she saw a squirrel.”

He eyed her askance, but didn’t push it. Meanwhile, Princess shot her a glance, one that Aria thought said,
Thanks for not ratting me out.

As if she would. Constantine would probably take his dog’s side if she did.

“Want a cup of cocoa?”

“Sure.”

As Constantine busied himself putting a pot of water on to boil, she leaned on the counter, steepling her arms so she could rest her chin in her hands. She watched Constantine move in the kitchen, light on his feet for a man his size.

She mused aloud. “So, I was thinking.”

“Why do I feel that should come with a warning?”

“I’m not Cynthia. You’re safe.” The certainty that her friend was the one with crazy ideas stuck. As did the belief that Aria always went along and sometimes embellished those wild plans.

“I highly doubt I’m safe,” he muttered, his back to her as he spooned the hot cocoa into cups.

What was that supposed to mean? “If you want out because of the danger, just say the word and I’ll leave.”

He whirled. “Don’t you dare go.”

“Okay, I won’t. But you just said you don’t feel safe around me. And you’re right. It’s not. It seems everything connected to me leads to monsters.”

“I can handle the monsters. What I’m less sure about is how to handle you.” Piece spoken, he whirled back to the mugs, pulling the whistling kettle from the stovetop.

She blinked a few times as she digested his words. What did he mean by handle her? Since she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, she brought their conversation back on track. “I’m noticing a common theme among my memories and the monsters. Have you noticed that everything keeps pointing back to Bittech?”

“I do, which is why I’m having a hard time believing it.”

“Occam’s razor.”

“I know the term, but not what it means,” he said, stirring the brew in the cups with a spoon.

“Simplest answer wins. In other words, don’t try and complicate the truth. Maybe things keep pointing back to Bittech because they got complacent and, in turn, lazy about covering their tracks.”

“It just seems too easy,” he said as he slid a mug in front of her. “Think about it for a second. Considering how long these things have been happening, even if they were getting sloppy, I find it pretty odd that all of a sudden events are escalating to the point they’re not even trying to stay hidden. Monsters out in daylight. Dead bodies. People missing left and right. And wouldn’t you know all the blame seems to be centering on the one company authorized to do legitimate research on shifters.”

“I think it’s a great cover. I mean, they have access to medical supplies, personnel, even blood work and other tissue samples. Is it so farfetched to think that underneath the veneer of legal activities, nefarious ones are also occurring?”

Hands wrapped around his mug, he nodded. “True. I mean, who would suspect a shifter-run installation of being so crooked? I guess I just don’t want to believe that a company with our folk working at it would do something like that. I mean, for fuck’s sake, Daryl’s brother-in-law is the CEO’s son.”

“Has Daryl talked to him about it?”

“Yeah. And so did Wes, the guard who works there. Andrew claims they’re not doing anything that hasn’t been sanctioned by the SHC.”

“Sanctioned?” She frowned. Something about that niggled. “Are you sure they’ve given their approval and just what that approval is for?”

The question should have proven an easy one, yet Constantine opened his mouth then shut it, taking a moment to think. “You know what, I don’t know that anyone ever truly asked them. I mean, Pete told us they wanted us to back off, but then again, turns out Pete’s son was involved, so his info is now suspect. As for the rest, other than Andrew’s claim, my sources all got this second and third hand.”

She swallowed the rich, sugary brew before replying. “So shouldn’t we call someone on the SHC council?” Her mind blinked, and she saw herself in a hallway, the carpeting dark blue and almost new, the walls a muted gray. An older fellow grasped her arm to pull her aside and whispered, “Remember, tell no one. Trust no one. Report only to me.”

Who is he?

Constantine shot a frown in her direction. “One does not just call up the SHC and question them.”

“Maybe someone should.”

Setting his cup down, he scrubbed a hand through his short bristles. “The last time someone did, they went missing. Wes’s brother tried to do something about the shit happening, and he vanished into thin air.”

“People don’t just vanish.”

“They do sometimes in the bayou,” was his ominous reply.

His phone rang, a shrill old-styled ring that filled the ominous silence his words had wrought.

He glanced at the lit display. “I gotta answer this.”

She took another sip of the cocoa as she peeked out the window. Constantine paced away from her and spoke in low tones to whoever called.

The sensation of something just out of reach plagued her. Something that she’d learned niggled. The answer seemed close, so close. If only she could find and pull the thread that would unravel the mystery in her mind.

“I gotta go out for a bit.”

She returned to the present. “Where do you have to go? Who was that calling?”

“The fire station where I work. A body was found in a tree in the swamp. Since it might be shifter-related, I got called in.”

“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” Aria would never admit it aloud, but the thought of staying alone in his house, with the swamp that hid so many dangers nearby, did frighten her. She wasn’t sure what her strengths were in a fight.

Poison.

What?

This odd, disembodied voice talking to her every so often really freaked her out.

“Angel, is it normal to hear voices in your head?”

Her out-of-the-blue question narrowed his eyes. “Depends on how many of them are telling you to kill someone.”

Her lips pursed, and she glared. “You are not amusing, dickwad.”

“Is it wrong to like that name better than the emasculating name of angel?”

“You’ll be my cutie patootie angel in front of your buddies if you don’t answer me. Do you hear voices?”

“Me? When did it become a question about me?” As she leaned toward him, practically snarling, he laughed. “Yes, I hear
a
voice. Emphasis on the single entity who feels a need to chat me up sometimes.”

“So your snake does talk to you.” Winner for strangest conversation of the year.

“Talks, thinks. When our animal side is taking a backseat, they’re more or less dormant. They will awaken for extreme emotions or because of a sixth sense when it comes to danger. They also like to meddle and throw in their two cents.”

“By they, I mean it, or is that he?” Her brow furrowed. “Whatever the fuck is inside you, it doesn’t make you kill things?”

Constantine might have joked before, but now he looked utterly serious. He braced both palms on the kitchen counter and angled closer. His intent stare locked her eyes on him.

“Aria, is something telling you to kill things?”

“Not exactly. A voice just told me I use poison.”

“Told, but you didn’t see yourself actually doing it?”

“No.”

“That’s not exactly solid evidence of anything then, is it?”

“Except it sounded true. Felt true. I poison things.” She slumped. “And here I was hoping I secretly had some cool judo moves I could use in case someone came to attack me.”

“You won’t need cool moves because I’m dropping you off somewhere safe while I check things out.”

Somewhere safe being with Cynthia and Daryl.

A
s Constantine drove away
, leaving Aria at the tender mercy of her best friend, who clutched Aria to her bosom swearing she’d never let her out of her sight, he couldn’t help but chuckle remembering the words Aria threatened.

“I will poison your beer.”

What could a man reply to such a dire threat?

“If I can’t drink, then I’ll need to do something with my lips. See you later, my little peacock.” Wink.

And then he fled. He’d probably pay for that later. He could see Aria getting even for leaving him with Cynthia, who exclaimed, “Have you put your toes around his ears?”

Not yet, but he hoped his little bird would soon. Damned woman turned his world topsy-turvy. She made him want to be the man his father wasn’t, a man she could count on.

Crazy thinking. The kind of crazy you got from sniffing gas for too long.

He barely knew Aria. A man didn’t suddenly want a commitment with a girl he’d just met, who didn’t even remember who she was.

Don’t forget Princess hates her.

Then again, Princess hated almost everyone. She tolerated his friends. She kept trying to get between him and Aria, though.

Should he take it as a sign?

Thing was he didn’t want to keep his distance. Couldn’t. Even now, dumping Aria off to go to work irked him.

He wanted to spend more time with her. Getting her to talk, he enjoyed discovering piece by piece the different fragments that comprised Aria.

The more he saw, the more he liked. Yet, that like kept distracting him.

I almost got her killed today.

An exaggeration, but a possibility given what happened to Jeffery. What if the winged beast had grabbed Aria instead? What if that furry flying monkey at his house today had done more than piss off his dog because it wouldn’t land for a proper terrorizing?

Ma killed it.
Bu, as he’d seen today with the flying thing, whoever they stalked had more than one creature at its command. They were also getting more brazen about using them.

Once the monster comes out from the closet, can you really shove it back in?

The answer terrified him in a way nothing else in his life ever had.

What if the human world found out about them? Scholars in the shifter world had long theorized that humanity might accept them, but even if the majority did, there would always be a faction who didn’t trust
the animals.

A mob usually started with only one cajoling voice. Just like it took only one bullet to end a shifter life.

Dark thoughts that led to carnal.

How? Because if their very existence hovered on a precipice where tomorrow could see them exposed and hunted for extermination, then he should seize the day.
I should seize Aria.

Take her. Hug her. Squeeze her.

Or he could destroy the monsters and find the one controlling them. Take that danger out of Aria’s life so he could take his time with her.

Snort
.

Why not do both? Help save his town, save his ladybird, and maybe attempt something his father never did—a happily ever after.

He’d think on it. First he had work to do.

The trip out to the murder site didn’t take long since he went there direct. He joined several others of his shifter brethren who also worked with the fire department for Bitten Point.

Luckily, only a few humans, which they couldn’t avoid hiring due to labor law, also worked with them. In cases such as these, with a suspicious dead body, they were conveniently left out of the rotation.

People thought it odd the fire department showed on so many scenes that didn’t even have a trace of smoke. People tended to think of them only in terms of fire. Except firemen, especially in smaller communities, played a larger role.

They also had the tallest ladders.

As Constantine braced the ladder for his buddy, Mick, he peeked around. The scene where he found himself was actually not quite in the swamp, the land firm and dry under his feet. The copse of trees growing wildly here sat on federal land and wasn’t open to anyone but game officials.

So how had someone spotted the body?

“No Trespassing” signs proved the irresistible lure for teenagers. Dragging a girl by the hand, and saying they’d protect them from crocs and snakes, many a teenage boy got lucky in these woods.

Not poor Boyd. Poor Boyd had been lying atop Steph, doing his best to score a home run when his date started screaming—and it wasn’t because of his technique.

As it turned out, opening her eyes while he nibbled on her neck and shoved a hand up her shirt wasn’t enough to stop poor Steph from noticing a dead body hung in the branches of the tree overhanging them.

It put a damper on the date, for Boyd at any rate. Steph, just a few steps out of high school, was twirling her hair and chatting to the young policeman who showed up on the scene wearing an impressive badge and a gun.

Mick clambered up the ladder and muttered his findings, not too loudly, as he knew Constantine would hear him.

“It’s male.”

“Dead or alive?” While pretty sure it was the former, it never hurt to be sure.

“Definitely dead, but not for long. The blood is still fresh. No sign of rigor yet either. Poor bastard, I hope he died quick after whatever got him tore his face off.”

No way could Constantine suppress a wince. That had to hurt. “Any identifying marks? Do we know who the victim is?”

“Fingers are gone. Chewed off it looks like. Damn, whatever did this to him, it’s almost like they didn’t want us to identify him.”

Except once Mick untangled the body and eased it down to Constantine, he realized he knew who it was. He recognized the shirt.

Jeffrey. Last seen in the claws of a winged lizard. Now dead. Fuck.

Once the body left the branches of the tree, it was up to the cops and other crime scene dudes to take over—taking evidence and suppressing it in case it raised too many flags.

Since his services were no longer needed, Constantine didn’t stick around.
I have somewhere else I should be.

And as much as his python wanted that to be by Aria’s side, that wasn’t his destination.

If he assumed the winged creature had targeted Jeffrey specifically, then that meant the dead Bittech employee knew something.

I had him in my grasp. Dammit. If only I’d not let him escape.

If only he’d not kissed—nah. He wouldn’t regret the embrace with Aria. Hell, if he’d known ahead of time Jeffrey would get snatched, he might never have stopped.

Thinking of Jeffrey proved sobering, though. The man was dead. Killed. But why? What did the guy know, and of more interest, did he perhaps write something down? Could there be a clue in his things?

I need to search his room before the cops identify the body and get to it.

Despite breaking a few speed limits, Constantine made it too late to the motel.

“Fuck.” He couldn’t help but mutter an expletive as he noted the billowing smoke obscuring a twilight sky.

Given cop cars blocked the road, along with fire and news trucks, he parked on the shoulder and walked the rest of the way. He couldn’t get too close to the scene of the fire—they had the area cordoned off—but he stood amongst the crowd, a spectator that watched the hypnotic leap of bright flames.

The motel burned, and to his trained eye, he could already tell there would be no saving anything.

“Any idea how it started?” he asked a fellow beside him.

“Started in room seventeen. I should know, I was right beside the damned thing when the alarms went off. Weird thing, though, was the room was empty on account the guy staying in it got grabbed by some kind of giant bat.”

Bat? Had to love how the humans wedged the truth into whatever box fit it best.

Since this wasn’t his jurisdiction, Constantine got to watch as others put out the fire. He probably shouldn’t have spent that much time getting hypnotized by the destruction, yet he couldn’t help himself.

For one, it was warm and his snake did so like the heat.

Second, he needed the heat because the very act of arson made his blood run cold. Things were snowballing, and he feared how far they would go. And who else would die.

This violent act only served to reaffirm his conviction that time drew short. At the rate the blatant acts happened, and in front of witnesses, discovery seemed imminent. Death and injury were becoming commonplace. His time and window with Aria could find itself limited.

He should go to her and continue that kiss they began. Bring it to its rightful conclusion.

He choked—ironic really, given as his python usually choked others. But the thought of taking things to the next level terrified him.

What if I’m just like my dad?

Aria was an orphan. Could he give her a family only to yank it away because his snake got bored?

You never left Ma.

True, yet with Ma there was no pretense or expectation. She’d love him no matter what. He could do no wrong—unless he accidentally left the seat up and she fell in the toilet in the middle of the night. He paid for that with starched laundry.

You would never abandon Princess.

Of course he wouldn’t because she loved and relied on him. He had a duty to protect, care, and adore her in return.

Couldn’t you do the same thing with Aria?

Why not? Constantine usually took his duties seriously. Just because his dad had left didn’t mean he would be the same. He’d proven himself reliable so far. Why would he suddenly change?

I am not making a decision about Aria and the future yet.

He had better things to do, such as make a pit stop to see Wes, his brother’s frenemy. Personally, Constantine didn’t have a beef with the guy. He seemed nice enough. Not his fault Wes bore that bad luck name—Mercer.

Everyone knew the Mercers, the family whose name was usually spoken with a condescending sneer. In some respects, they deserved it. A good number of Mercers tended to skirt the law or outright flaunt it.

Yet others, like Wes and Bruno and a few other Mercers, did try to live the straight and narrow. Not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things. Born a Mercer, always a Mercer.

Constantine felt kind of bad for Wes. The guy got a bad rap because of his birth, not his actions, kind of like his snake.

But becoming bosom buddies wasn’t why he popped in to see Wes. He wanted to update him on the newest aspects of the case. A phone call might have proven quicker, but paranoia had him wondering now if those were safe to use.

Someone seemed awfully well informed about their movements. Did someone spy on them? The movies certainly made it seem like it was easy.

Ironically enough, he went looking for Wes at his place of work, Bittech. Despite more or less running the entire security division, Wes still liked to rotate his shifts around, supposedly to keep a feel for staff and goings on.

As Constantine pulled into the front of the mirror-glass-plated building, he shut off the engine. He wanted to hear if anything approached.

The bright security lights proved harsh, their fluorescent glow bathing things and giving them a stark, dead appearance. Wes, however, didn’t stand under its bright glare. Gators were nocturnal creatures for the most part. Nasty bastards, too, if riled. The big guy, a rival for Constantine’s own bulk, leaned against the building, the red tip of his cigarette pinpointing his presence.

Nasty habit and one Constantine didn’t get. Fire and smoke were a shifter’s worse enemy—other than discovery. Why would anyone intentionally inhale the shit?

“What was so important you couldn’t talk to me on the phone?” Wes asked, grinding out the butt under the heel of his dull black combat boots. They should have looked out of place with his pressed slacks and dress shirt, but then again, that dress shirt had two buttons undone, the tie hung loosely, and Wes, no matter how much gel he put in his unruly hair, would never look quite respectable. None of the Mercers ever did.

“I saw one of our friends today.”

The slouch disappeared as Wes straightened and fixed him with his dark gaze. “Which one?”

“The flying dino. I saw it clear as day when it swooped out of the sky. It attacked some dude I’d gone to visit.”

“It actually attacked?” Wes’s voice pitched almost as high as his brows.

“I didn’t see the attack part, more like the kidnapping. Damned thing plucked him off the ground and took off with him like he was some kind of mouse. Some kids found the body in a tree. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Who was he?” Wes asked sharply.

“One of your Bittech fellows by the name of Jeffrey.”

Wes’s brows drew together. “Former employee. He was canned almost a week ago for compromising the institute’s security.”

“Lost a key card, did he?”

“How the fuck did you know that?”

Explaining Aria would take too long so he summarized with, “A little birdie told me. Anyhow, the flying lizard thing didn’t just take off with Jeffrey. He tore off his face and fingerprints, too. I only recognized him because of his clothes.”

“The monster has gotten a taste of blood. That’s not a good thing,” Wes noted.

“No kidding. I also don’t like the fact that it’s hunting in daylight.”

“I wonder where it’s holing up in between sightings.”

“No idea. He seems to poof in and out of thin air. Without tracks, he’s impossible to follow. Lizard thing wasn’t the only weird monster spotted today. Another one visited my house. Ma killed it.” He couldn’t help the pride in his words.

“Another lizard creature?” Wes barked.

“No. This one was more like a mutant flying monkey. Weirdest fucking thing I ever saw. Covered in fur, not scales. This one had quite the tail, too. A long, whip-like appendage with a barbed end.”

Wes struck a match and lit another cigarette. He took a long pull before asking, “Did you bury it? Or feed it to the gators?”

“Neither yet.”

“Good plan. We need to study it for clues. We can use it as proof to the SHC that there’s shit going on.”

“I think there’s more than enough proof at this point for us to admit that the High Shifter Council doesn’t give a rat’s ass.”