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"Maya?"
I pushed up and scrambled into a patch of dead brush, burrowing into it, Kenjii tunneling after me. When I was sure I was hidden, I stopped and pressed my rough palms to my eyes, heaving deep breaths as my heart thudded.
I stretched my hands out. Were they going back to normal? I touched my face, running my fingers along the familiar planes and contours. They felt ... off. Not completely different, just off, like the lines had shifted, cheekbones lower, chin less sharp, nose flattening.
I rubbed my face hard.
"Maya?"
Kenjii lifted her head from my lap. When I still didn't answer Daniel, she whined as if to say Are we hiding on Daniel? It's been a long time since we played this game.
"Maya?"
"I--I'll be out in a minute."
I heard him come closer. He didn't try to peer at me, just grunted as he lowered himself to the ground.
"How about we back up?" he said.
"What?"
"Back up to before we went in the cabin. I was going to tell you what I thought was going on. With you. It starts with that old woman at the tattoo studio. The one who said you were a skin-walker."
"I--"
"Not yet. This is my chance to look brilliant. So she said you're a skin-walker. You've always had a way with animals. Especially cougars. Lately they won't leave you alone. We looked up skin-walkers, and saw that they change shape and have healing powers. Now, we could've made the leap and said that proves she was right, but we didn't, because that would be crazy."
"Uh-huh."
"Like getting sent to a book about Italian witch-hunters--when I'm Italian and I'm good at fighting--and deciding that's what I must be. Crazy. But then I found that note at Mina Lee's place. A list of four terms, including skin-walker and benandanti. That made me think some more about your healing powers and the big cats and the visions and the old woman at the tattoo place and your birthmark. I thought about me, too, the weird vibes, how they keep getting stronger, and about what my dad says, and dreams I've been having, and some other stuff--just small stuff, but it's been bugging me. At that point, it was starting to look a little more odd, but it was still too big a leap."
"So when did you make it?"
"I came close to a conclusion when I sent that helicopter pilot flying, but I wasn't really ready to commit until Sam's story sank in. With you? I wasn't sure until that Moreno guy mentioned Annie. Rafe's sister. I remembered the signs of a cougar around their cabin. I was worried. You brushed it off. Then Rafe freaked out about her going missing, and you two were whispering. When Moreno mentioned her, I flashed back to the cougar who appeared at your party. The young female with a mark on her flank. Annie's a skin-walker, isn't she? She changes into a cougar."
"Yes."
"That's what the mark means. Her mark and yours."
"Yes."
I told him the story. About Annie. About Rafe. About why Rafe came to Salmon Creek. About what he found there: me. What he told me about us, about my mother, about the experiment.
Then, slowly, I crawled out of the dead brush until I could see him sitting there, arms wrapped around his knees, listening. Just listening.
"So that's why Rafe came to Salmon Creek," I said. "He was looking for the skin-walker. That's why he was going through the girls. That's why he focused on me. He figured it out."
Daniel shifted over until he was kneeling, his face a foot from mine.
"He did like you," he said softly. "That wasn't an act. I'm sure of it."
And I'd liked him. Really liked him. I realized that now. Too late, I realized that.
When I'd first felt an attraction to Rafe, I told myself it was just that. Attraction. Then I discovered we were both skin-walkers and that seemed to explain it. I'd probably have felt the same for any skin-walker guy who showed up, and he'd have felt the same for any skin-walker girl.
That made it easier. Easier than admitting I'd fallen for a guy who'd conned me. For a guy who might not really like me back. But now I realized how wrong I'd been.
When I thought of Rafe, I did remember his touch, his kiss. But what I thought about most of all was him. Just him. His laugh. His eyes. His serious side. His fears for his sister. His worries for her, for himself, for me. His honesty that night on the roof, when he'd opened up. Wanting me to get to know him better.
