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My goal today is to find my mates. I’m not naïve enough to think Kian’s presence and Blondie’s sudden appearance in my room are unrelated. I have no clue how Blondie knew where I was sleeping, but it’s no coincidence Kian showed up in Oscura, and my second mate showed up with him. The only logical answer is they know each other. The even better hypothesis is they’re traveling together.
Find one, find both, maybe even find my third mate.
Kill them all.
I brew a shitty mug of cheap, off-brand Keurig coffee while I dress in a tight black tank top and my only remaining pair of jeans. Then I inhale two granola bars and wash them down with the watery brew. The idea of hitting the run down McDonald’s for an Egg McMuffin is enticing, but I don’t have the time to waste or the patience to waste it. There’s no telling how far Kian and his buddies got while I slept.
Unfortunately, my boots didn’t survive my run-in with Kian, so I have to opt for the flats. Not the best tracking footwear, but there isn’t miraculously a shoe store nearby as far as I know. I’ll have to worry about replacements later.
Making sure my room is locked up tight, I hop on my bike and zoom across the busy, early morning intersection, then down the side highway that passes Joe’s Bar and Grill. The shopping center is fairly empty this morning, only a few patrons at the Big Lots and a line of cars wrapped around both fast food joints. Just another day in small town America.
Hopefully my day will be a little less mundane. Some rigorous exercise, some bloodshed, some saving the world...
I bypass the lot and head for my first destination—the place in the woods where Kian’s bike lay after our fight. My hope is that maybe he returned for it overnight, and I’ll be able to pick up a new scent, maybe track him to where he’s holed up.
In the light of morning beneath a pale blue sky before the New Mexico heat rolls in, I feel a bit more solid. More ready for what’s going to come next. It’s baffling to think that after three years on the road, eating cheap bar food and picking up odd jobs to keep my cash flow incoming, I’m finally close.
I roar down the highway on my bike, the wind caressing my bare arms and the sun burning away some of the anxiety I’m still carrying from the night. What the hell was that shadow thing? And why was it in my room? Why was Blondie in my room?
Exactly how close did I come to death last night?
I retrace my steps from my pursuit with Kian, then find the skid marks in the dirt where we went off-roading. My smaller bike navigates the terrain well, though I go slower this time so the trees won’t slice me to ribbons. The cut on my cheek still hasn’t healed all the way up, and I’d rather not add more and make myself look like Edward Scissorhands’ little sister.
Kian’s bike is still in the same place.
I idle a few feet away from the fallen Harley, chewing on my lower lip. I don’t smell him, just the barest traces of his scent leftover from yesterday evening. Nothing fresh to indicate he’s returned. Plus, his bike hasn’t moved at all—not even an inch to indicate he at least tried to get it.
Damn. I kinda wanted him to come back and see what I did to his precious motorcycle. Like a “fuck you” for running.
Both times.
I turn around and stalk out of the woods back toward town, but whip off the road onto the open plains before I reach the shopping center.
My bike takes me past the low shrubs and burning sunshine of the desert plain to another section of thick evergreen forest that backs up to the center. Unfortunately, the undergrowth here is way too thick for my bike, so I knock down the kickstand and hide it behind a thick bramble bush. Then I set out on foot to find the place where I lost the blond.
I’m on foot a good fifteen minutes before I find traces of his scent. The forest looks pretty different with daylight filtering through the canopy overhead, but I’m certain this is where I lost him. I have to strain even now to pick up the barest hint of his scent.
I knew not to expect my mates to be normal wolf shifters. Gwen warned me about that fact—feral shifters, she called them. I don’t completely understand what that means beyond the fact that they aren’t affiliated with a pack and are running wild on their quest to destroy the world.
But the fact that their scents can just… vanish?
That’s unheard of. It’s as if they can become invisible, make themselves totally undetectable to even a wolf’s keen nose.
Blondie’s scent vanishes completely near a small clearing in the trees. I circle the whole clearing, trying to pick back up on his signature, but it’s useless. On my second pass, however, I find paw prints hidden beneath a dense layer of wet, dying leaves.
Bingo.
I follow the trail of indentations, kicking aside the fresh layer of leaves with my feet as I walk. It’s peaceful here, with the birdsong and the breeze knocking branches and the sun’s warmth beaming through like waterfalls of gold. There’s green here, lots of it, which is a welcome respite from all the brown I’m used to. Couple the idyllic scenery with the fact that I found a clue and a trail, and I’m damn near ready to celebrate my coming victory.
Those assholes won’t know what hit ’em.
I knock aside another bundle of wet leaves, and the sweet, decaying scent tickles my nose.
Then a searing pain lances through my body.
I gasp from the sudden, unexpected shock and then double over, my fingers clenching like claws. My muscles spasm uncontrollably, and my legs buckle beneath me. I fall to my knees, unable to breathe, my whole body shaking, filled with an agonizing pain worse than anything I’ve ever felt before. Ripples of white-hot pain fill me end to end.
I can’t move my hands.
