Shifters' Storm (22 page)

If he’d wanted to, he could have already attacked, but not only did he respect the rifle, if the man was dead, Rane might never learn what role, if any, he’d had in Jacki’s murder.

So keep him alive. Disarm him and force him back to the cabin when they’d wrench the truth out of him.

But first—

Keeping the sound low so hopefully the man couldn’t tell where it was coming from, Ber again growled. He’d been chuffing and growling since locating the shooter and had discovered that beneath the camouflage lay the heart of a coward. The man had once believed that all it took to kill three people was to sneak up on them and fire repeatedly. Now he was learning how wrong he’d been.

“I know what you are!” the man shouted. “You ain’t no bear. You’re one of those damn shifters.”

Ber waited for the man to threaten to kill him, but he didn’t. Maybe the short speech had taken the last of his courage.

Ber let loose with a series of grunts the way he sometimes did when he found a beetle-filled log. Undoubtedly the man wouldn’t know he was being labeled an insect, a bug.

“You stop that!” The rifle went still. “Think you can hide from me? You’re wrong.”

One thing about spending a great deal of his life as a beast but with human intellect was that Ber studied other animals. He’d learned from all of them, particularly the predators, and now handled himself like a cougar. A bear plowed through life. Ruled by its belly and made bold by its size, a grizzly took what it wanted. Fortunately almost anything the forest provided sufficed.

In contrast, cougars needed meat to survive. Toward that end, cougars stalked—just as Ber was doing now.

Carefully selecting the best ground to walk on, Ber silently made his way around and behind the shooter. Much as he anticipated watching the man’s reaction the next time he growled, he didn’t for a moment dismiss what the rifle was capable of. His enemy might be thinking the same thing, because his arms and consequently his weapon no longer shook. Something about him was vaguely familiar, and if the conditions were better, Ber might have recognized him. Now, however, survival and exacting justice ruled him.

When he was in position, he crouched behind a tree stump. The snow continued to fall. Anticipating smelling fear, Ber took a deep breath. He caught that, all right, but there was something else. A faint and distant stench that made the hair on his shoulders stand up.

Distracted and alarmed, he had to force himself not to stand on his rear legs to have a better chance of identifying the stench. Instead, belly nearly on the ground and shoulders low, he backed away from the stump.

“Where the hell are you? Stop whatever the hell game you’re playing. Let’s get this on.”

The man who’d tried to kill Rane no longer mattered. And with the unsettling smell now coming hard on the wind, neither did Rane herself. Ber no longer cared about revenge and justice or even survival.

Turning his back to the man, Ber lifted his head and let the deadly but vital scent guide him. Wind gusts ruffled his fur, and snow landed on his face to connect him with his surroundings. This was his new home, the mountains destiny had brought him to. He shared it with the smaller black bears who in certain ways were his kin. Once he’d assured them that this was a safe place to live and eventually die, the rest of the Enyeto would join him.

He’d select a mate. The sow would give birth to what looked in every way like a human baby. Because his mate’s body was incapable of nurturing such an infant, he would turn it over to a human surrogate mother.

Rane.

Her name and everything that went with it drew him back into the real world, and his cock responded. Then the unwanted smell again assaulted him.

Feeling the size, weight, and intellect that separated him from the area’s indigenous bears, he reluctantly headed toward the smell. He still faintly heard the man he’d wanted to kill but that, like Rane, would have to wait.

Snow blanketed the rise ahead of him, and he concentrated on his route so he wouldn’t slide. One step followed another followed by yet more until he lost track of how far he’d come. There were fewer trees in this area and many boulders. From what he could tell, there were more rocks than dirt underfoot. Only a handful of trees and few bushes meant he could take a direct route to wherever he was being drawn. Despite the ease of travel, he didn’t want to be here. Dreaded what lay ahead.

Stopping, Ber looked back the way he’d come. Given the mountainous terrain, the man he’d been stalking couldn’t have brought a motorized vehicle, which meant he couldn’t quickly get away, but he might find a hiding place. If that happened—

More wind. More smell.

Walking again, Ber acknowledged a moment of envy for Songan, who didn’t know the meaning of dread when he was in elk form. He even envied Rane, who was safe in the cabin with nothing to do except wait for her men to return.

Wind again. Smell getting stronger.

Lifting his head, Ber looked up and ahead. At first all he saw was the new snow carpet. Then he spotted a barely perceptible opening near the top of the rocky terrain. He wasn’t yet close enough to determine whether what he suspected was a cave was large enough to shelter a hibernating bear. Even if it was, it was early in winter for a bear to be in hibernation. Besides, his nerves and nose had already told him that whatever was in there was dead.

Ber bared his teeth. Death was as much a part of these mountains as birth, nothing to shock or alarm him. Nothing new.

When the long climb was behind him, he stood in front of an opening large enough to allow a smallish black to pass through. After searching in vain for a reason not to do this, he began tearing at the earth. At first the rocks defied his attack. Then they gave way. Dirt and debris flew about to cover the snow. He was grateful for the cold.

The opening was now large enough to for him to enter. No choice but to go inside.

Dropping onto his belly, Ber wiggled forward until he found himself in a space with enough room for him to stand. Moving to the side, he let in as much daylight as possible. All too soon, his eyes adjusted. He saw what was responsible for the death smell.

An adult-size black bear lay against the back of the cave. Long-dried blood stained the fur over its chest. It had been gutted. Two smaller, still forms huddled near the adult’s head. They too had been ripped open.

Wrenching pain closed around Ber’s heart, and yet he couldn’t fully wrap his mind around what he was looking at. The storm couldn’t reach him in here; even the wind was little more than a whisper.

Peace should live in this place where a mother bear had given birth and nurtured her twins. Born in winter, the twins had undoubtedly nestled against their mother. At first they’d been tiny, nearly hairless and occasionally squalling mounds, but thanks to the rich milk that was their only food, they’d grown until they were large enough to venture outside and begin exploring the world beyond their home.

Tragically they’d never had the chance.

Maybe their killer had stumbled upon this place. More likely he’d watched and stalked the unsuspecting sow as she searched for food. The killer could have shot her outside and she’d crawled in here to die. It was possible he’d ventured into the cave and fired while she was sleeping, but Ber doubted that. The danger was too great.

So—Ber fought to wrap his resisting mind around the most likely scenario—despite her fatal wound, the mother had made her way to her cubs. Their safety had been foremost in her mind, but instead of protecting them, she’d led her killer to her children.

All three had died to feed some monster’s greed.

Ber’s intellect shut down. He no longer thought; he simply felt. His eyes hot with emotion, he inched forward and touched the large female’s nose. Death touched him back. Despite the shock, he did the same to the two cubs. Then, heedless to the weather, he exited the cave.

Chapter Twenty

Sick with fear, Rane hammered the last nail she’d found in a catch-all drawer into the wall using the back of a metal stirring spoon. With four nails now holding up the corners of the blanket she’d placed in front of the window, the fire she’d recently stoked began warming the room. One edge of the blanket was so close to the window frame that she could easily pull it aside and peek outside.

Not that she could see anything.

Someone had shot at Songan. Twice.

The shooter had missed; he had to have! Otherwise she would have known, right? With Songan wounded or dead, the shooter would have come after her, right?

Picking up her rifle again, she went to the door and cautiously opened it. Just like the five or six times she’d already done this, she saw nothing. Much as she needed to call out to Songan, she didn’t, because he’d told her he’d bugle once he’d accomplished his mission.

If
he was alive.

Moaning, she closed the door and leaned on it for support. Try as she did to silence the sound, she kept hearing the horrid rifle shots.

“Be safe, Songan, please.”

Not just Songan, but Ber too.

The bear shifter hadn’t said anything about his intentions while he was stripping off his clothes in preparation for becoming an animal. She guessed he’d been determined to spare her the details. Either that or he’d wanted to downplay the danger. Had she begged him to be careful, told him how vital he’d become to her in the short time they’d known each other?

What had her final words been to Songan?

Her mind flashed to her mother. Not for the first time, she asked herself if her mother’s murder was connected to what was happening today. Could it be otherwise?

Moaning, she returned to the blanketed opening and peered out. The two men who’d become her world were out in the wilderness trying to hunt down a pair of would-be killers. In contrast to their courage, here she sat inside a bullet-ridden cabin with nothing better to do than keep it warm.

Was the heat only for herself, or would it welcome Ber and Songan when they returned?

When
, not if.

Songan wasn’t sure why he was heading in the direction he was. All he knew was that this was what he was supposed to be doing. He vaguely recalled he’d come across tracks set down by both a man and a massive bear. When the two sets of prints separated, he’d followed the bear’s. The bear needed him. The human could wait.

His head had stopped ringing, and his memory of being shot was fading. In contrast, the image of how the human who’d tried to kill him had looked curled up with snow blanketing him remained clear. As he tracked, he tried to imagine what, if anything, the human was doing now.

He’d hurt the would-be killer but didn’t know how badly. If the human could get to his feet, he might be on the move. With his rifle useless and the temperature dropping, his primary concern had to be for his safety.

How does it feel? Does helplessness terrify you?

Surprise at his ability to relate to the man slowed Songan. He pondered returning so he could watch the struggle, but before he could make the decision, a wave of emotion distracted him.

Ber. Needing him.

So far he’d been holding to a measured pace to insure he wouldn’t lose sight of the fading tracks, but with Ber’s emotions now driving him, he trusted the unspoken communication to guide him to Rane’s other lover. The poor visibility and terrain prevented him from running at full speed, and he had to keep an eye on his surroundings to insure he’d continue avoiding the trees.

He tried to comprehend why Ber had stopped stalking the human, but nothing made sense. He had no choice but to wait for the bear shifter to explain himself. The storm blunted the usual sounds, smells and sights, compelling him to trust that he was doing the right thing. He gave a half thought to what might happen if his trust was misguided. Maybe Rane wanted more of him than he’d been able to give her. Certainly she deserved larger chunks of him. But the forest and his place in it exacted their own demands. He could only be what he was and hope she understood.

Fewer trees grew here than where he’d been when he first
heard
Ber’s thoughts. He vaguely recognized it as a place the elk avoided because there wasn’t enough to graze on. The rocks and boulders forced him to slow even more, and the openness made him feel exposed and vulnerable. Just the same, his conviction that Ber was nearby kept him going.

A rock rolled under a hind hoof, causing him to stumble. He regained his balance, and when something large and dark separated itself from the white world he realized it was Ber standing motionless high on a rocky slope. Studying the grizzly shifter, Songan wondered at his ability to recognize Ber. His mind suddenly felt clear and sharp.

“What is it?”
he asked.
“What’s wrong?”

Looking old, Ber swung his bulk toward him.
“They’re dead!”

“Who’s dead?”

“A mother bear and her babies.”

Death was part of the wilderness. An animal might mourn the loss of another of its kind, but grief didn’t last long. He didn’t tell Ber that, because the bear shifter hadn’t told him about a sow and cubs. His emotions went far deeper.

“Where?”
he asked.

Ber nodded at an opening in the slope Songan hadn’t noticed.
“In there.”

“How did you find them?”

Still looking as if he was barely aware of his surroundings, Ber shook his head.
“The death smell.”

Songan inhaled deeply. Yes, there it was. Old. Sad. But the faded death stench wasn’t the only thing that caught his attention.

“I smell humans,”
he told Ber.
“Not recent.”

Looking puzzled, Ber lifted his head. After a moment, his nostrils flared.
“Why didn’t I notice that before?”

“Because the other was more important,”
Songan ventured.

“It was. It still is. I hate—the three have been dead a long time. The babies are so small—I think their bodies have been in there since spring.”

“Scavengers haven’t gotten to them?”

“No. The bodies are well preserved.”