Embraced by Darkness(52)

The two men finally moved away. I waited for another five minutes, watching the cliff top, searching for any sign that they were merely in hiding rather than having left, but there was nothing.
I paddled sideways across the waves, riding the surges and letting the current pull me ever so slowly toward the cliff base. To the right of where I’d fallen, the steepness of the cliff eased and the rocks weren’t as fierce looking. I paddled closer and let a wave surge drop me on top of one. My webbed red feet gripped the wet stone securely, and I waddled away from the waves, shaking my body and fluffing my feathers to get rid of some of the water.
Once I was far enough away from the foamy fingers of water, I took a deep breath, then reached down, deep down inside, to where the shapeshifting magic resided, and called for my human shape.
For a moment, there was no response, and panic surged. I closed my eyes, fighting for calm, picturing my human shape in my mind, remembering my body shape, my scars. The funny shape of my toes.
My skin began to tingle, then the shapeshifting magic surged, sweeping across my body, remolding flesh and muscle and bone, until what was sitting on the rock was once again human.
A human shaking with relief and fear.
I hugged my knees close to my chest. Every inch of my body trembled, my chest felt tight, and my wounded leg felt like jelly. But I was alive, I was whole, and I was human again. I sucked in great gulps of air, and tried not to think about what I would have done if my body hadn’t responded, if the part of my soul that made the shifting so easy had suddenly forgotten the patterns of my humanity.It was a good five minutes before the shaking stopped enough for me to concentrate on what I had to do rather than what might have been. What still could be if I wasn’t very careful.
I rose and looked up, studying the cliffs. God, it was a long fall. My stomach rose and my body began to shake. I gulped down air, fighting the rise of terror. I was here, I was alive, and I had a brother to save. There was no time for fear or panic right now.
Thinking about Rhoan helped. As the panic began to ease, I switched my gaze to the lower regions of the cliff, looking for some way up. There wasn’t even a track a goat could climb.
Not that I was intending to become a goat anytime soon.
I shifted, my gaze following the cliff top, seeing the gradual fall before the island dipped around to the right and disappeared from sight. Hopefully, there was a bay or something around that corner.
I made my way forward, leaping from rock to rock, carefully picking my way through the sharp rocks and shells but cutting my feet nevertheless. I ignored the wounds, trusting the sea would wash away any blood I left behind.
Right now, I just needed to get to solid ground, away from the cliffs and the sea.
When I finally rounded the corner, and saw that the cliff tops did indeed sweep down into a shallow sandy bay, relief flooded me. I jumped into the sea and paddled toward the shore. I wasn’t the world’s greatest swimmer, but I think I would have broken world records right then. I dragged myself up onto the sandy beach, then on into the trees. There I threw my hands wide and dropped down onto the ground.
Land. Solid and real. Not sand, not sea, not rocks. Land.
I would have hugged it if I could.
After wasting several seconds simply enjoying the solidness under my body, I rose to my knees and shifted to my wolf shape. I needed her nose to hunt my quarry, and to do that, I needed to go back to the cliff top. Just the thought of it had my knees shaking.
But there was no other choice. While freeing Rhoan was a priority, getting the bomb control was even more so. Until that was destroyed, there was no point in pulling Rhoan out of his cell. And I doubted the twins would be hunting him today, given the injuries I’d inflicted on Jorn.
I turned and padded through the trees, my limp not quite as bad in my wolf form. I followed the coastline, keeping well away from the cliff edges as the land began to rise again.
Finding the area where I’d gone over wasn’t hard. Footprints marred the sandy soil and the undergrowth where I’d fallen and they’d stood was all broken and flattened. The scent of Jorn’s blood lingered on the air, a sweet aroma that stirred the hunter to life. I nosed around the ground until I caught a slightly sour, foresty scent. Yohan, undoubtedly. At least if I lost Jorn’s trail, I might be able to follow Yohan’s. 
Nose to ground, I made my way through the trees, slipping easily through the underbrush, avoiding the sunlight so that my red coat wouldn’t gleam, melding with the deeper shadows of the forest. Hopefully making it harder for anyone to spot me.
Not that I thought they’d be looking for me, but I’d learned a long time ago never to underestimate the bad guys. They just didn’t think in the same linear patterns as sane people.
Jorn’s scent sharpened abruptly. I stopped, sniffing the wind, tasting the flavors that ran underneath it. He was still bleeding heavily, the blood smell thick and rich on the air. Twined around it was the reek of sweat and the musk of man.
He was close. I twitched my ears, trying to hear him. His scent was coming from my left, but given the way the wind swirled through the undergrowth, I wasn’t relying on it to give me position.
If he was making any noise, I couldn’t hear it—and as a wolf my hearing was pretty keen. So he was either unconscious, sitting quietly, or it was a trap.
I laid on my belly and crawled forward. It wasn’t exactly easy, given the undergrowth and the fact my wolf form was designed more to run than creep.
I ducked my nose through some thick greenery and discovered a small clearing. Jorn sat on a log on the far side, leaning back against a tree trunk. Blood caked his left arm and leg, his shirt was caked with sweat, and there was a decided look of pain on his face.
Couldn’t say I was sorry about that.
Though his eyes were closed, I doubted he was unconscious. The pain, the way in which he sat, the tension in his clenched hands—it all spoke of awareness.
I looked beyond him, my nose raised slightly, tasting the air for Yohan’s sour scent. It lingered—a memory more than a reality. He’d definitely been here, but not recently.
Which gave me my chance at Jorn.
Despite the rush of eagerness that had my toes twitching, I didn’t move. The clearing might be a small one, but there was still open space between me and him, and he had his rifle within easy reach. I wasn’t about to bet my speed against his, even if I should be faster. Not when there were silver bullets involved.
Which meant I had to try and provide a distraction, and hopefully give myself extra time to attack before he reacted. I carefully backed through the undergrowth, then rose and padded through the trees, making a wide, looping arc around the small clearing before coming up on his right side.
When I was close enough to smell the stink of his sweat and blood, I shifted to my human shape and reached down to pick up a nice big rock. With my fingers clenched around it securely, I crept forward until I was within throwing range.
This close, I could hear his breathing, see the blood still running from the wounds. Maybe Yohan had gone to fetch medical help for his brother, which meant I had to do this fast.
I raised my arm and threw the rock as hard as I could. It tumbled through the air so fast it was little more than a blur and yet, somehow, Jorn sensed it.
I should have known fate wasn’t going to let me off so easily.
He twisted around, avoiding the rock and bringing the rifle up in one smooth movement. I laid low and wrapped the shadows around me. Jorn frowned, his gaze sweeping the tree line, moving past my position with barely a twitch or pause.
He couldn’t see me. Couldn’t sense me.
Maybe Yohan was the one who could sense—track—nonhumans.
But Jorn still had extraordinary hearing, because he’d obviously heard the whir of the rock through the air. It had been warning enough to assume fighting readiness but not enough to fire randomly. For that, I had to be grateful.
Thankfully, the rock had disappeared back into the trees, and he wasn’t making any move to discover just what had flown at him. Maybe—hopefully—he thought it was a bird rather than the beginnings of an attack.I waited until he settled down again—albeit more watchfully—then slowly, carefully, inched my way backward. Given he obviously had good senses, I’d have to do this the old-fashioned way—with speed and power and a whole lot of luck.
Once I had retreated deeper into the forest, I rose and padded around until I was roughly behind his tree. I could see his elbows to either side of the tree trunk, and underneath one was the butt of the rifle. He was ready for action, so I really would have to be quick.
I took a deep breath and released it slowly, then silently counted to three and moved forward. Fast.
He was going to hear me, but I was counting on my vampire speed and the cover of the shadows to fool his senses long enough. But a good hunter didn’t rely on sight alone, and given the thick carpet of debris lining the forest floor, there was no hope of ever remaining silent.
I felt the bullet even before I heard the gunshot. I leapt high in the air, making my body an arrow, flying straight at Jorn. The bullet ripped past my belly and disappeared into the shadowed forest.
And then I was on him, hitting him, knocking him backward. He grunted, the weapon flying from his grip. I hit the ground and tumbled to my feet, racing over to the gun.
I only barely beat Jorn there. I dropped beneath his blow, then swept low with my leg, sweeping him off his feet. He hit the ground back-first. I stepped on his left leg, flipped the gun around, and smashed the barrel down as hard as I could onto his knee. I had a whole lot of strength behind me thanks to my dual heritage, and his knee didn’t stand a chance. Bone smashed and splintered under the force of the blow, and he screamed, his body crumbling as he tried to protect himself.