Hour of the Lion

Chapter Sixteen

Calum covered a yawn as he walked into the kitchen early the next day. He and the Elders had stayed up most of the night, hammering out contingency plans in case the Daonain were exposed by the arseholes trying to catch shifters. Although well hidden, the Elders were the least mobile of the clan. Part of the reason he’d visited was to ensure they understood the seriousness of the threat and were prepared to run if needed.

Beside Alec at the counter, Jamie grinned over her shoulder. “We’re making pancakes.”

“Impressive accomplishment.” Calum kissed the top of her head, smiled at Alec, and looked around. Aaron liked to sleep late, but Victoria seemed like a dawn riser. “Did you leave Victoria sleeping?”

Jamie had her lip tucked between her teeth as she concentrated on pouring the perfect amount of pancake dough into the frying pan. “She’s already up.”

“Ah. She probably went out for a walk.”

The batter sizzled as it dropped onto the hot skillet, and the scent of pancakes filled the kitchen. Alec’s stomach growled audibly. “I get the first one.”

Calum tilted his head. “I believe that reputable cooks serve others first.”

“But Jamie wouldn’t let her beloved uncle starve, would she?”

She frowned from one to the other, and a sly smile spread over her face. “I don’t want you arguing with Daddy, so I’d better eat the first one.”

“Even in an emergency, she keeps her head.” Calum grinned at Alec, his pride making his heart swell.

The breakfast, although he didn’t get the first pancake, tasted very good. “You’re turning into a fine cook, Jamie,” Calum said. “Since you did most of the work, Alec and I will clean up. Meanwhile, you can pack. We’ll leave soon.”

“Oh, Daddy. Do we have to go?”

“I have a business; Alec is sheriff.” He gave her a stern look. “And you have school.”

“Well, poop.”

As Jamie trotted to her room, Calum poured himself another cup of coffee, then studied his brother whose face was still lined, eyes weary. They’d both had to kill clanmates; it never grew easier. “Are you all right, brawd?”

Alec shrugged. “It’ll take a while. Talking with Vicki helped.”

Hoping to divert Alec from his grief, Calum asked, “Was Sarah as helpful?”

“You bastard, abandoning your own littermate like that. By the God, I’d rather put a leg in an iron trap than be alone with that female. Would you believe she bawled over Fergus’s death, and a second later climbed in my lap?”

“For a cahir, you certainly get trapped easily.”

“And you didn’t?” Alec smirked.

Calum winced. Overly sweet females made his fangs hurt. “I eventually managed to scrape Gretchen off by siccing Maude on her.”

A door slammed, and Jamie ran into the kitchen, waving a piece of paper. “Daddy, all Vicki’s stuff is gone! This was on the bed.”

His blood stopped in his veins. Calum opened the note as Alec read over his shoulder.

I’m returning to my normal life. I can’t risk being a feral.

Please don’t come after me.

Give Jamie a hug for me,

Vic

Calum’s hand crumpled the paper as an icy blizzard lashed at his soul. She left us.

Alec’s expression held the same devastation. “My fault,” Alec said, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t explain well enough. Why would she think she’d go feral?”

“You did your best, as did I. It is her decision to make.”

“Did Vicki go away? Without saying goodbye?” Jamie’s eyes filled with tears, and Calum pulled her into his arms.

“She did. She returned to her own home, and I think it’s time we went to ours.”

Swane walked through the shack he’d rented close to Cold Creek. Since Vidal couldn’t leave his business in Seattle, it was only him and the old woman he’d snatched. What a shame-for her-that she and her fat dog had chosen to walk in the deserted park.

Although he’d had a tranq gun ready, she hadn’t transformed when he’d kicked her dog or grabbed her, so she probably wasn’t a shifter. Even so, the nosy biddy was friends with everyone in town. If any of those monsters lived in Cold Creek, she’d know.

He shoved open the door to the bedroom. Wasn’t she a nice sight, tied so neatly in the straight-backed chair? “Hello there.” He tossed his bag of tools at her feet, then ripped off the duck tape that had covered her mouth. Some skin came with it, and blood oozed.

She blinked away tears. “Wh-what do you want? I don’t have much money, but you can have it. J-just let me go!” Her eyes were terrified in the wrinkled face.

Swane’s breathing sped up. He got a better rush out of anticipation than from snorting coke. Fuck, he’d missed interrogating prisoners. Maybe wereboy’s resistance had been an ego blow, but this old bitch’d spill her guts within an hour. Not that it would do her much good.

“I don’t need money, Mrs. Neilson.” Considering he’d earn a cool half-mill once his boss learned to shift. He dragged over a chair and sat in front of her, knee to knee. “That’s your name, right? Irma Neilson? You don’t mind if I call you Irma, do you?”

She shook her head frantically. “But-”

He slapped her, open-handed across the face. “First-the rules. I don’t hear your fucking voice unless I ask a question. Got it?”

A trickle of blood ran from her lip. Her eyes were shocked.

Probably never been hit in her secure life. And nope, she wasn’t a werecreature or she’d have changed into a cat by now. “We’re going to talk about monsters, Irma. People who turn into mountain lions. Know what I mean?”

From the slight widening of her eyes, the twitch of her fingers, she knew exactly what he meant.

“Tell me who they are.” He picked up a pair of pliers from the bag. “Then tell me who they love.”