“Who the hell buys ninety dollar slippers?”
“Hell if I know. You’d think she’d just grab those fuzzy fuckers from Target or something.”
“You’d think,” Eagan agreed.
“All I know is, if we don’t put a stop to this, it’ll ruin our reputation. If people can’t feel safe with us in the mountains, our business is fucked. Our clan is fucked.”
Eagan nodded. Magic wasn’t wrong. Lake Haven had a reputation as a safe place to bring your family to relax and unwind. The last thing they needed was a thief to turn up just before the busy holiday season started.
“Have Gash beef up the security,” Eagan suggested.
“He’s already on it. He’s putting cameras in the guest halls, and turning on the ones outside. Adding one to the back trail too.”
“Yeah. Good. But…” Something just didn’t make sense. “If it isn’t a guest. And it isn’t one of us. Who the hell’s doing this?”
Magic’s jaw ticked. He leaned in, his voice quiet. “Ask yourself this: if they’re sly enough to get past us this long, with our ability to scent, and Layna’s strict guest records… is there any way in hell they don’t know what we are?”
Eagan’s mouth went dry. Nobody knew werecats ran the lodge. If they were ever discovered, life as they knew it would be over.
“We have to catch this thief,” he breathed.
“Yes,” Magic agreed. “And fast.”
Chapter Two
One by one, Clara removed the boulders from her loot spot, setting them carefully on the dirt beside her. It was good exercise for her arms. She needed to stay strong. Winter was coming soon and she’d have to prepare her body to survive it.
Preparation was key to hermit life.
Squirrels knew what was up. Packing away nuts and seeds for the long cold months. She’d learned so much from watching the animals. The bears had it best though, sleeping away the entire season.
If only she was a bear.
She’d been through five winters. This would be her sixth. Hard to believe she hadn’t slept in a real bed, in a home, under a solid roof, for six years.
She paused her digging, letting her reality sink in for a tiny moment. On her own, no family, no friends. No home.
No regrets.
Her lips curved into a smile, and she slowly reached into the crevice between two boulders.
“I see you,” she murmured. “One, two, three, four, five… yep, there you are.”
Her fingers lingered until the small black lizard with five yellow stripes on his back rested his front feet on her.
Clara clicked her tongue lightly, and the lizard slinked forward.
“I wondered where you’d gone, you flighty little reptile.”
There’d been a couple chilly nights already and she’d wondered if her skink had tucked away for the winter. October. She’d seen the calendar during her last loot run. The days were still warm, but the nights brought cool weather. Not cold, but still a stark difference from the hundred degree days she’d grown used to over the summer.
The skink quickly slithered up her bare arm and settled on her shoulder, clinging to her tank top strap while Clara went back to digging up the plastic crate she kept her stash in.
When all the rocks were removed, she unlatched the lid and took stock of her supplies. She needed to grab some more socks. And maybe a few more canned goods before it got too cold. But for now, she was going to eat like it was going out of style.
She pulled out five potatoes from the ten pound bag she’d taken from her new gold mine and secured the rest in the plastic bin. Then she collected the butter she’d snuck from the walk-in fridge, a bag of caramels, sour cream and onion Pringles—yum!—and the bars of chocolate. She left her new slippers in the bin. She’d need them soon, but for now they’d keep with her stash.
One more thing.
Digging to the very bottom of the bin, she found a new bar of soap. Clara held it in her palm, debating. This kind was her favorite. It smelled like lavender. And boy would that be helpful right about now. But… she had to think of the future.
If she planned to continue her raids on the lodge, she needed to be a ghost. She couldn’t leave any evidence. Including a scent trail. Because…
Well, she hadn’t decided whether or not she was crazy. Whether or not the man she’d seen in the woods had really turned into a cat before her eyes. It was more likely a hunger-induced vision. Or her imagination gone wild. Like a shirt-less girl on spring break. Maybe six years taking in the wonders of the woods had broken her mind.
But just in case, she couldn’t take the chance of them smelling her.
She shook her head, and dug deeper for the unscented bar she’d grabbed from the hunters last year, stuffing it into her ragged, threadbare backpack. Carefully, she replaced the rocks that concealed her supply crate and stood.