Mate Bond(29)

Bowman listened in disquiet. He had no doubt Turner had spotted a  Shifter. The description plus the location made Bowman think he knew  which Shifter Turner had seen-sounded a lot like Dylan Morrissey. He  must have chosen to let the curious American get a look at him, no doubt  ready to lead him away from the rest of his pack.

"So you were convinced?" Bowman asked.

"Not quite. But interested enough to pursue more tales, once I'd learned  to keep my mouth shut around my colleagues. I set off on a worldwide  quest, looking for more ‘magic people.' Eventually, of course, Shifters  were revealed as real, I was offered a position at Asheville, and here I  am. I'm now one of the leading authorities on all things Shifter."

He finished, smiled at them, and walked to the kitchen to refill his cup.

Kenzie held her coffee away from her, frowning a little.

"What?" Bowman asked her under his breath.

"I smell something."

Bowman smelled coffee. Strong, filling the cabin. He moved the cup from  his nose, as Kenzie had, and rested it in his hand on the sofa.

He began to breathe deeply, pulling air into his lungs, forcing himself  to sort out odors. He processed them for a long time before he found  what had instinctively troubled him. The faint but unmistakable odor of  Faerie.

Not strong at all; barely discernible. He glanced again at the map,  which was marked with mountains, rivers, valleys, farms, towns. He knew a  ley line ran alongside Shiftertown-a ley line was a sort of magical  artery of a network that stretched around the globe, near which magic  was enhanced and gateways to Faerie could be found. If Bowman was right,  that same ley line snaked down to cross near here.

The scent didn't come from Turner. Bowman surreptitiously inhaled when  the man came back to refill their cups. Nope, Turner was human. He was  not half Fae; not even one quarter. Anyone with Fae blood had a  distinctive odor.

A Fae might have been here though. While Fae had difficulty in the human  world, with all its iron, Bowman had heard that they could take magical  precautions against iron poisoning. But even then, their spells didn't  last long.                       
       
           



       

Not that Bowman knew a lot about the Fae. He had experts like Pierce for  that information, and he tried to think about Faerie and the Fae as  little as possible.

He exchanged another glance with Kenzie, but she gave him a slight shake of her head and looked up at Turner again.

"This book on Shifters," she said. "I'd love to read what you have so far."

Turner flushed with sudden pleasure. "Really? I'm flattered. Would you?  And maybe . . . give me some pointers? I want to get it right."

"Happy to," Kenzie said. "Do you have a copy I can take with me?"

"Why not read it right here?" Turner asked, giving her a hopeful smile. "While you enjoy some more coffee and stay warm?"

"I'm afraid we should be going," Kenzie said, shaking her head. "Our son will be worried, plus we should report the shooter."

"It's still pretty dark," Turner pointed out. "Dangerous out there until full daylight. And as I say, I'll give you a lift."

He returned to the kitchen without noticing the two Shifters'  discomfort. "Do you think he's harmless?" Kenzie whispered into Bowman's  ear. "Or not?"

Bowman liked the way Kenzie's breath tickled him, but he didn't know how to answer.

Kenzie quietly put her coffee aside and moved to the front door. She  stopped, stymied, and pointed at the keypad that took the place of a  doorknob. There was no other latch, bolt, or keyhole; no other way to  open the door.

"Oh, that has a code," Turner said, coming back out of the kitchen. "Keeps squatters out when I'm not here."

"What about the windows?" Bowman asked. "They don't look very sturdy."

"Looks are deceiving." Turner smiled. "They're wired to give an intruder a nasty shock when the alarm is on."

"You booby-trapped your own house?" Kenzie asked him, still at the door.

"You'd be amazed at the people who come out here," Turner said, with a  quiet sigh of disapproval. "Drug dealers and pot growers, gangs, people  trying to hide from the law. Or just hunters. After someone trashed the  place once, I got wise."

"Why do you come out here?" Kenzie asked. "If it's so dangerous?"

He shrugged. "I like the quiet. I can think better. My dad left this  house to me, and the property-why should I give it up because of scum  like that? Besides, when I'm here, I can visualize how it used to be for  Shifters in the wild. You lived pretty close to the bone, didn't you?"

Kenzie had, in Eastern Europe. Bowman's pack, which had lived north of  the Great Lakes, had been hunted, first by Native Americans, then by  colonials.

"Yes," Bowman said.

"Ever miss it?"

Bowman shook his head, his look deadpan. "I like indoor plumbing."

Turner laughed. "So captivity is better?"

"I didn't say that. But we almost died in the wild. Our females stopped  having many cubs. Now everyone is healthier, and more cubs are born."

"But you and Kenzie just have the one?" Turner asked.

Bowman saw the pain on Kenzie's face, and his voice turned to a growl. "Yes."

Turner continued, not noticing the warning. "But maybe if you'd all  remained in the wild, she might have been infertile altogether. So  you're right, you have benefited."

"How about you stop talking and open the door?" Bowman suggested. He  rose, putting his bulk between Turner and Kenzie. "Enjoyed the coffee.  Now it's time to go home."

Turner looked blank. "Sure, if you truly have to. Let me by so I can put  in the code. Before you go, though, I want to fix up a time to talk to  you, Kenzie. You can come back here, or if you'll let me go to  Shiftertown . . . ?"

"We'll discuss it." Bowman stepped aside and pulled Kenzie next him.

Turner touched numbers on the keypad, but before he could push the door  open for them, it was wrenched out of his grasp from the outside.  Cristian stood on the doorstep, completely dressed, his breath fogging  in the dawn light. His large motorcycle was parked in the clearing  behind him.

"There you are," Cristian said, his accent thick. "My mother is calling,  calling, and every time I'm sure the sniper is going to hear. What are  you doing? We need to go."





CHAPTER NINETEEN




Kenzie gave a shiver of relief as she walked into her own house in  Shiftertown. She was dressed again, Cristian having thoughtfully rescued  all their clothes. They'd ridden triple on Cristian's big black machine  back to the arena, where Bowman's bike still waited.                       
       
           



       

Ryan bounded into the kitchen in his wolf cub form as Kenzie and Bowman  walked in the back door. Ryan sprang from the floor into Kenzie's arms  and began licking her face.

"Stop that." Kenzie laughed and held her son close, burying her nose in his fur. "What are you doing up so early?"

Ryan kept licking, his tail wagging like a big puppy's. He yipped  happily at his father but snuggled down in his mother's arms, not ready  to leave her. Though Ryan was twelve in human years, in Shifter terms,  he was still a little cub, though his wolf body was getting bigger by  the year. He had long legs and big ears and huge paws the rest of him  hadn't yet grown into.

Bowman slammed the door. He dumped the manuscript Turner had given them on the table and made for the refrigerator.

Kenzie's grandmother, Afina, came out from the hall that led to the  bedrooms. Though she'd reached her three hundredth year, Afina was tall  and strong, with barely any gray in her dark hair. Humans sometimes  mistook her for Cristian's sister rather than his mother.

"You are back then?" she asked. "And Cristian? You left him alive?"

"For now," Bowman said, a carton of orange juice in his hand. "Can't say  that for everyone out in the woods tonight. I need to make some calls."

Bowman tumbled Ryan's fur, and Ryan's tail whacked against Kenzie's side.

"Ask Cristian for his version of things," Bowman said to Kenzie. He  dropped a brief kiss on her cheek and was out the door, his cell phone  already at his ear. "Cade," she heard him say, "Wake the hell up already  . . ."

Then he was gone.

"Adventures?" Afina asked in Romanian.

"Too many. Ryan, honey, go clean up, and I'll make us breakfast."

"I will," Afina said as Ryan squirmed out of Kenzie's arms and scampered  away. "You have had too much happen to you. Which you will tell me all  about."


* * *

Talking to her grandmother did help Kenzie calm down a little. It always had.