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She squawked as the driver took a turn too sharply, and he hollered at her to shut it again.
“What do you think she’ll do to this one?” the other assailant asked, his voice a low growl.
Is the “she” the red-tailed hawk we’ve been chasing?Cass took stock of the intel she had at the moment. There were three people involved in her abduction: the two men in the van and a woman, whom she assumed they were driving her to meet. Considering the way the man worded his question, she gathered this wasn’t about having a conversation or getting roughed up. It was more likely this was about torture or experimentation.
If the group of gulls was any indication regarding the outcomes of said research, she was hoping for torture.
6
Ten minutes after Cass disappeared, a swarm of FUC agents buzzed about the park. One special faction tended to the seagull shifters, delicately triaging the situation and planning to transport them to the hospital wing of WANC, where they’d receive the best medical and psychological care. A second team was interacting with humans in the vicinity to see if the cover story of “protesting artists” was holding. A final team of agents was to assist Grayson in tracking down Cass and her possible abductors.
Grayson pushed aside the thought of the amount of paperwork he’d have to complete following this incident—that was the aspect of the job he dreaded most—and focused instead on searching the area for clues. He already sent an agent to collect Cass’ belongings from the restroom. When they returned holding Cass’ clothes, shoes, and handbag, Grayson knew she was gone. Cass would only leave her belongings in a disgusting public bathroom if it were a life-and-death situation.
“She either ran off, following a lead, or she’s been taken,” he concluded.
Grayson traversed the park to the restrooms, taking in the scene for anything out of place that could hint to Cass’ whereabouts. Though his senses in human form were preternatural, they didn’t compare to his expanded capacity when in hound form.
He’d have to put his Basset olfactory system to the test and use his nose to detect clues about her captors.
He tapped the nearest FUC agent on the shoulder. “I’m going to find a private place to shift. Please guard the entrance and bag my clothes while I sniff around.”
The agent nodded, no questions asked, trailing him to the small building where he would act as a guard so no unsuspecting human would stumble in with Grayson in mid-shift. That would be awkward. And require more paperwork.
After ensuring all the toilet stalls were vacant, Grayson neatly piled his clothes on the diaper changing station. He relaxed into the transformation, like shrugging off a comfortable robe. His bones shifted and joints cracked as they rotated for him to walk better on all fours. It was a strange sensation, yet not unpleasant. The hair on his body thickened and grew, tingling the flesh around it. Fur sprouted across his body, changing color to the white coat and brown spots he sported in dog form.
Grayson padded out of the bathroom on four paws, the concrete floor cooling him down with each step. His long, velvety ears wafted scents toward his black nose. He scanned all of them, searching for Cass’ trail. Soon he picked it up. Even in peahen form, she still smelled of coconut, though it was mixed with the dusty odor of feathers.
He followed the essence of Cass to where the group of bird shifters gathered near the trash cans and picnic tables. He found the spot where he’d stood earlier. Cass’ sweet fragrance lingered there as well. Then it careened off down the trail. He inhaled deeply, trying to gather as much information as his snout could. Farther down the sidewalk, two other scents lingered with hers. They were a sharp contrast to Cass with their oil, grit, and woody undertones.
Where the path met the street, the trail went cold. Grayson bayed. His team of agents poured into the area with their forensic tools, scouting for clues. Grayson noted the scent of pine mixed in with the dark bouquet of dirt, left from the tires of the parked vehicle. Something else was mixed in too. Cedar maybe. He howled again. A FUC agent peeled off of the pack to scoop up traces of the material left behind. Hopefully something would lead them to Cass.
They must have been close to the truth if she was snatched. Someone didn’t like them sniffing around the park. With any luck, they’d be one step closer to finding the hawk.
Grayson and the other agents scoured the area for more evidence. He knew Cass could take care of herself, but he still worried. She was his partner and responsibility. How did they grab her without him noticing? He hadn’t thought he’d turned away from the group for that long while he’d spoken on his phone, and he hadn’t had problems when he was left watching the gulls. Still, he shouldn’t have let his guard down.
If anything happened to her, it was on no one but him.
* * *
The van pulled into a warehouse, and the black bag was put back over her head. When the driver got out, a bad stench flooded her senses. The waft of dirty chicken coop hit Cass’ nostrils like a punch to the gut, and suddenly she was thankful she wasn’t in human form wearing her favorite stilettos. She’d have to burn them for sure if they touched the ground anywhere near here.
She strained her round eyes, trying to see through the sack. It was useless. Cass would have the same chance of seeing if her purse was dropped over her head. None.
To escape… or not to escape. Cass stacked the pros and cons in her mind. Should she elude them now and hide out here, trying to discover what she could? Or see who they were taking her to, up close and personal? That would risk Cass not being able to free herself from the rope—or any new form of bondage her captors planned—later.
The back doors swung open, filling the van with more smelly air. Cass wished she maintained the ability to plug her nose. She’d have to practice doing it with a foot for dire situations such as this.
“Get out!” the man with the lower voice spat out.
It now made sense why they didn’t tie her feet.I guess they don’t want to carry an oversized bird.
Cass turned her long neck, her feathers shifting and realigning with the motion. Hoping they would remove the bag if she appeared incapable of functioning with it on, she pretended to try to stand and bumped into the seat in front of her. She let out a frustrated squawk, ruffling up her plumage.
“I don’t think she can see well enough to stand,” the other man hypothesized.
“Then help me pull her out.”
“But she’s a hundred-pound turkey,” the other protested.
