Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Five
The scent of antagonism reminded me of rotten eggs baking on a sidewalk under a hundred-degree sun. The sensation assaulted me from five different angles, four drifted downwind. One just behind me.

It hit me then in a way our situation hadn’t before. We weren’t just in a fight. We’re at war. War with a faceless entity standing behind the few representatives. There was more out there, from the information Carmen had shared with me.

The information my senses shuffled through, transferring to my brain was an endless stream. I couldn't pick through the thousand bits of information. It overwhelmed me. If I closed my eyes, four scarlet blotches marred the blackness, as if I’d had an infrared lens implanted behind my corneas that happened to work in the late afternoon light.

“Slow down,” Kalvyn hissed. “They’ll hear you.”

I trudged on. “The only sound either of us made before this second was the comment you felt the need to say,” I whispered.

I glided over crisp forest floor, small sticks and dry yellow and brown leaves digging into my bare feet. End of season blackberry bushes scratched my unadorned legs past the short cut offs I’d borrowed from Lexi. With the weight I’d lost, they were a tight fit, but serviceable until I managed to find time for clothes shopping.

I passed a stray branch, which swung back. I caught it silently before the offending limb could hit Kalvyn. The hunter’s voices drifted over the gentle slopes and thick brushes of trunks. A Jeep was parked at the end of a dirt road, nearly indiscernible from the rest of the forest. I jogged around the front of the vehicle.

The three men drank beer around a fallen tree, as a brunette, hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail, tossed a fishing line into a slim, bubbling brook. Sun glasses perched onto the bridge of her nose.

Sun glinted off of the windshield, catching my eye. Sitting there plain as day, was a beat up notebook, filled with small, neat writing in a variety of colored ink, thick with taped pictures.

I stuck my head through the passenger side window, flaring my nostrils. The book reeked of that woman. Clara.

The last string of self-denial was broken, as I stared at those pages in horror. A tiger shifter was depicted, caught between the change, just as Sadie had earlier. No older than eighteen—Lexi’s age. She’d been strapped to a table, sliced, died. They’d taken the picture as she screamed, making it painfully obvious she’d still been alive. Behind her, a brunette stood, knife in hand, self-righteous smile matched only by the manic expression of self indulgence in sadism.

Clara.

I choked back a cry of agony. My knees went weak.

My mother, and any possible remnants of my love for a fairy tale woman died a worst possible death.

My babysitter was too focused on the evil to notice me. Careful to touch nothing else, I snatched that book from the seat. I shoved the book under my tee, and my skin crawled to have it touching me. The discomfort was necessary.

For now.

“We still have to search the north side of the mountain again.” Gruff Man crunched a beer can between his palms. “Those trails…”

“Are months old,” Mr. Quiet snapped. “Find me fresh tracks, and I will okay another search of the area. All that’s there are cabins.”

“Damn it! We’re seen them in their human forms.”

“No, we saw one for sure,” Clara drawled, reeling her line in. She sneered at her tiny catch. She unhooked the wriggling fish without mercy, tearing through its mouth and tossing it over her shoulder. On the ground, the poor thing flopped, wasted. So easy to throw the catch back, but she didn’t. “Those eyes gave him away. The rest could’ve been human.”

“Who knows,” Mr. Quiet said. “Perhaps we’re on the wrong mountain altogether. They were close to the campground. They could be anywhere by now.”
            Gruff man punched a tree, inches from Hero Boy’s head, who leapt away from his resting post. “Oh, they’re here, and close. I can practically smell them. I’m not leaving the area until I get proof they ran like cowards. I’m not going to back to headquarters empty handed again.”

Mr. Quiet lit a cigar, taking long, stinking pulls of the smoke. “You think the bosses will be pleased about us running around looking for frivolous trails? They want results. There are suspected cases in six other regions. Our teams can’t keep up with it all.”

Clara laughed. “But soon enough, we’ll catch them. And then, they’ll pay.”

Mr. Quiet strolled to her side, taking the fishing line to untangle a knot in the nylon. “You know as well as I, there haven’t been any suspicious deaths.”

She jerked away from him with a snarl. “Think that matters to me? They all need to die.” Her hand slipped into her hunting jacket, pulling out a Bowie knife. She patted the blade like an endeared friend. “Do you know how many shifters I’ve killed with this? I use many tools during an integration, but the killing blow? Always with this.”

Before I registered the movement, I was lightly running away from the Jeep, Kalvyn dogging my heels. Tears burned my throat. I couldn’t swallow. Another vehicle cut through the undergrowth, ripping plants up by the roots ahead of us. We slipped behind a large rock formation, as the pickup truck skidded to a stop beside the Jeep, exactly where I’d been standing.

Two burly men with matching beer bellies got out. The one on our side carried a sawed off shotgun over his beefy shoulder. The other pursed his bottom lip, glaring at the other hunters, brooding. Mr. Quiet met them at the bumper.

“You’re not supposed to show up here. This is my assignment,” Mr. Quiet drawled, picture of ease, all save those glinting eyes that gave away his rage.

“Yeah, well see, Grey has been hearing some interesting tidbits,” Sawed Off said.

“Like what?” Mr. Quiet dared. “Grey sent us out here to handle this, and we are.”

“You ain’t handling shit,” Brooding replied. “News came back to us. A couple a campers from Summit Lake went to the rangers, said they heard a girl screaming for help in the woods a few weeks back. As if she got hacked to pieces, you know?”

Sawed Off stroked the barrel of his gun. “They sent trackers the next morning, all they’d found blood splatters on leaves, upturned dirt, and a mangled prints, damn fresh too.”

Mr. Quiet frowned. “We didn’t hear about that.”

“You’re ears aren’t too close to the ground yet. Didn’t hit the news, since there no body.”

“Could’ve been any animal that did that,” Mr. Quiet snapped.

Sawed off pointed his gun to the sky. “Was the full moon, asshole. Still wanna tell me it ain’t a shifter that did that? They done killed a human, no doubt ‘bout it. Forensics confirmed the blood sample as human. We got people combing the campgrounds for more prints.”

“How many did Grey send out?”

Brooding flicked the cigar from Mr. Quiet’s fingers, and snuffed out the cherry with his boot. He leered. “Field wise? Just us. The lower members are doing our research. Grey figured that we’d fix this here problem right fast, while you’re slapping bandages over shrapnel wounds.”

“We’re on their tail.”

“You haven’t found dick, and when was the last report to Grey? Three weeks ago. And don’t give me no bull about cell reception this time. We sent up a satellite phone in your last pack. This isn’t about getting the most kills, or elevating your status. You fucked up, lost them, end of discussion. You’re damned lucky Grey hasn’t pulled you out. But I’m willing to let you stay, clean up the red in your ledger, and put you back in the black. You just need to cooperate.” Brooding headed for his truck, Sawed Off tailing behind like a faithful puppy. “I will be calling, and you better be ready.”

Kalvyn tugged on my hand. With a shake of my head, I followed him away from the hunters. We kept to the cover of shade as we climbed back up to the mountain to the north side. My mind turned over what we’d overheard, and the ones I’d no doubt find out about soon enough.

My fact finding mission wasn’t over.

“What are you thinking?” Kalvyn hissed.

“More are here, possibly more coming.” I tipped my head back to glance at him. I waited for him to notice the odd bulge through my tee, but his focus stayed inward. “Are you aware of this?”

“No. Not a single whisper to show any of the campers had heard you screaming. Certainly not an investigation.” He choked on the last. “I’d assigned Roman to clean up. He is normally more impeccable than this.”

“Maybe you should talk to him about it, see what happened,” I suggested. “We need to know much as possible to do this.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I will.”