Circle of Desire (14 page)

She hopped skyward again and flew to the roof. It was in worse condition than the house, and there were plenty of gaps where a raven could squeeze through. She chose the largest of them and landed on a rafter.

The stench almost knocked her off the perch. It was ten times worse inside the barn than outside. She walked along the rafter, trying to see past the shadows gathering in the corners. There were no man-shaped lumps to indicate life. No rattle to indicate death drawing breath. Nothing but that awful smell.

She spread her wings and drifted through the barn. It was filled with all sorts of machinery, and might have once housed horses, but not in a very long time from what she could see. The smell was coming from the end stall. She set down on another rafter and peered into the darkness. And discovered death, but not the form she’d expected.

He was a dry old stick of a man who looked to have been in his mid-sixties. The smile frozen on what was left of his face, and the fact that his overalls and boxers hung over the old stall door, suggested he’d been having sex with someone when he died. As did the lingering remnants of ecstasy she could feel in the air.

And though he must have been dead for at least a week, there was no rat or maggot activity to be seen
on his body. Unusual, especially given the fact that he lay in a barn.

But the cause of death was easy to see—like the kids, his soul had been sucked free. Yet given that he was in the midst of orgasm at the time, he probably didn’t even feel death hit him.

She headed out through the roof and back to the house. The old man obviously hadn’t been too proud, because the place looked abandoned from the outside. And just as obviously, he didn’t go into town much, which would explain the cobwebs in his car and the fact that he could lie there dead for a week without anyone coming up to check on him. Small towns were usually far more aware of things like that than city folk.

But why had the soul-sucker killed him? Had she simply wanted to feed, or was there something more sinister behind her actions? Like using his house—a place obviously few people visited—as a base?

She arrowed in through the smashed glass and did a circuit around the house. Evil had been here, as recently as a day or so ago. The air still recoiled from its presence.

The house was in bad shape, many rooms filled with boxes of junk and yellowing newspapers. Dust was inches thick everywhere except in the bedroom and kitchen. Obviously these were the two rooms the old man had used most. She shifted shape in the bedroom, drawn by a scent that wasn’t age and decay and death. Hands on her hips, she studied the double bed and tried to ignore the room’s almost overwhelming sense of sadness and loss. But it was almost impossible
when everywhere she looked there were photos of a smiling, gray-haired woman.

The sheets were surprisingly clean, the creases barely disturbed. Perhaps he’d changed them in expectation. Light sparked off something close to the pillow, and she reached for it. It was a delicate gold chain and cross. Not the sort of thing an old man would wear, but certainly something a little girl would.

Janie had been here. Kat had obviously been closer than she’d thought last night. Maybe even close enough to rescue that little girl.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It didn’t do a whole lot to ease the frustration running through her. Damn it, why couldn’t they catch a break in this case? Her gaze swept the room again, looking for something she might have missed the first time. Nothing. But given that the farmer had been dead for about a week, and Janie had been taken only three days ago, someone else had obviously been caring for the little girl. She couldn’t imagine zombies doing it, so either the soul-sucker had undertaken the task or someone else was helping her. The werewolf, perhaps? Though what would a wolf—or a vamp, for that matter—be gaining from such a situation? It surely couldn’t be sex, given that they had to be aware of the danger of getting their soul sucked during such an act.

She clenched her fingers around the cross and turned away from the bed. The kid wasn’t here now, but neither were the soul-sucker or the zombies. And she very much suspected they wouldn’t be found at the last remaining farmhouse. Still, she had to check. Then she had to go back and face Ethan.

And she had a feeling it would be easier facing a
dozen zombies than telling Ethan they’d missed rescuing his niece by the slenderest of margins.

She shoved the chain in her pocket, then shifted shape and flew back out the window.

E
THAN LEANED AGAINST THE QUAINT, WHITE PICKET FENCE
that bordered part of the bakery and watched the traffic roll by. Not that there was much, and not that they rolled by very fast. In fact, most of them slowed down to give him a good, long look. Small-townsfolk didn’t miss much. By later today, he’d no doubt be the subject of much speculation.

If it weren’t for the fact he was officially off the kidnapping case, he would have started asking some questions himself. If the kidnappers were here, then surely someone in this town would have seen something. But the minute he started nosing about, the sheriff would be informed. While Benton now knew he was here, he at least needed to keep up the pretense of
not
investigating. Otherwise his boss
would
come down hard on him.

Kat strolled down the street about ten minutes later, wearing a dark red cashmere sweater and a short black skirt that swirled around her thighs. Though she looked good enough to stop traffic, his gaze was drawn to the shadows under her eyes. To the shadows
in
her eyes.

He caught her hand and drew her in between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her, enjoying the sweetness of her warm lips but resisting the urge to taste deeper, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, her gaze searching his. Something in his gut clenched tight.

“Does your niece wear a necklace?”

The restriction moved up from his gut to his chest. “A cross. Why?” His voice was harsh, flat.

She reached into her pocket. “This cross?”

The sun caught the cross as she pulled it free, sparking fire across the gold surface. He reached for it slowly. He’d given Janie the cross last Christmas. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the turmoil, fighting the fear. “Where did you find it?”

“At a farmhouse. She’s not there, Ethan. I looked.”

She reached out as if to comfort him, but he jerked away and pushed her to one side. He took several steps before he could force himself to stop.

“Where is this farmhouse?” He had to see, had to check himself. Had to know if there was a scent to follow.

“You can’t go there.”

He swung around, fists clenched against fury rising inside. “Like hell I can’t!”

Her green eyes were full of understanding, full of compassion. It only seemed to fire his anger more, though he couldn’t say why.

“The soul-sucker killed the farm’s owner. Benton will have to be called in, as will the sheriff.”

“You call them before I get up there, and we may lose her scent.”

“There’s no scent to follow. It lingers in the bedroom where they kept her, but that’s it.”

“You don’t have a wolf’s nose,” he retorted. “I may find what you couldn’t.”

She crossed her arms, as if to contain the anger he
could see forming in her eyes. “You don’t have a wolf’s nose, either, unless you shift shape.”

He took a deep breath. It didn’t help the anger or vague sense of desperation boiling through his blood. “You have no idea what a wolf is and isn’t capable of.”

“I know more about werewolves than you probably do, especially since you’ve spent a major part of your life denying your heritage.” She shook her head, then brushed past him. “You want to go look for her, then go. See of you can find her without my help. I’m going back to Gran.”

He reached out to stop her, but she slapped his hand away, her strength and speed surprising him. “Don’t think last night gave you the right to try to order me around, wolf man. I’ve got a job to do, and I intend to do it right.”

“This is my niece we’re talking about,” he ground out.

“And at this point in time your niece appears to still be alive.” She flung the words over her shoulder as she continued marching up the street. “You go rushing in blindly, and you just might be the trigger that kills her.”

What she said was common sense. He knew that. But it went against every instinct he had to stand here and do nothing while the unthinkable could be happening to one very precious little girl. He thrust a hand through his hair and glanced in the direction from which Kat had come, then took another deep breath and followed her back to the cabins.

And wondered if he could still become a wolf after all the years of denying that part of himself.

* * *

K
AT CROSSED HER ARMS AND WATCHED
E
THAN PACE
. H
E
didn’t say anything, but he didn’t really need to. His anger, frustration, and perhaps even fear filled the room, as sharp as the wind outside.

“It’s not that easy,” he said eventually. “I can’t just become a wolf.”

“It
is
that easy,” she replied, keeping her voice calm. Anything else would only inflame him further. “And it’s not a case of can’t. It’s more
won’t
.”

He glared at her, his fists clenched by his side. Controlling the anger rather than any desire to lash out, she knew.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he growled. “Not this time.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong. Again.”

He snorted and resumed his pacing. “What, are you trying to tell me you’re also a werewolf? Because,
trust
me, I’d know if that were true.”

“Of course that’s not what I’m saying,” she bit back. So much for calmness. “I am, however, a shifter.”

He stopped abruptly, his expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. “What?”

“I’m a shifter. I can take on the form of a raven.”

“No.”

“God save me from obstinate men,” she muttered. She pushed away from the wall. “Watch and learn.”

With that, she called to the shifting magic and felt it surge through her, with eager fierceness. In a matter of seconds, she was a raven rather than a woman.

And the look on his face was priceless.

She shifted back, adjusted her clothing, and said,
“It’s that easy, Ethan. You just have to go with the flow.”

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “I really have lived a sheltered life, haven’t I?”

“Apparently so.” But
why
was the question—though one she knew he wouldn’t answer right now.

He walked across to the window and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I don’t know—”

“Look,” she said, “if you want to come to the cabin I found that cross in, you have two choices. Face the wrath of your captain in human form, or avoid it altogether by becoming a wolf. Your choice, as I said, but decide quickly. We need to get up there.”

He took a deep breath, then released it slowly. “I don’t know
how
to take wolf form willingly. The only time I tried—” He stopped and shrugged, but she felt the flash of pain nevertheless. Obviously, something had gone seriously wrong that one and only time.

“I can guide you, Ethan. It really
is
easy enough to do. In the end, the magic is a part of you. You just have to be willing to release it.”

“Something I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding.” He swung around to face her, his expression resolute. “What do I do?”

“First off, relax. Breathe deep and release the anger, the fear, and the tension.”

“Easier said than done,” he muttered.

But he did as she bade and, after a few minutes, a sense of calm fell around him.

“Now,” she said. “Imagine there’s a well deep down in your soul. Imagine it filled with warm and eager
light. Feel its welcoming caress surround your fingers, your hands, your arms, as you reach for it.”

Soft golden light began to dance around his fingertips, reaching upward toward his torso.

“Imagine that light surrounding you, embracing you. Feel in it every fiber, every muscle. Let it become you, and you it.”

The golden light swept up and across his body, until it encased him entirely. He was close, so close, to changing.

“Now, imagine the wolf. Welcome him into being.”

Doubt rose. She could see it in his face, feel it in the air.

“The wolf will never hurt you,” she said quickly. “Nor can it hurt anyone else unless you desire it. You control it, Ethan, not the other way around.”

Still he doubted. The magic pulsated, reflecting Ethan’s uncertainty.

“Become the wolf, Ethan,” she said softly. “Because Janie’s life might well depend on it.”

Which wasn’t a fair thing to say at this point, even if it was the truth. But it was also the one thing that might break his deadlock.

And that’s exactly what happened. The magic surged, and a few seconds later, a wolf stood before her. She smiled. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Annoyance glittered in his brown eyes. Her smile grew. “You know, as werewolves go, you’re not bad-looking. Shall we go?”

He walked to the door. She grabbed her keys and purse, and they headed out.

* * *

“D
ON
’
T SUPPOSE YOU CAN CONTROL THAT DAMN DOG OF
yours?” The sheriff’s voice was gruff and edged with frustration. “He’s starting to give the team the creeps.”

Kat grinned. Ethan—in wolf form, and complete with a bright pink scarf tied around his neck to indicate her ownership—had spent most of the afternoon following the coroner’s men around, listening and watching all that was going on.

“Believe me, that dog does exactly what he wants to do.”

“Looks too much like a wolf for my liking.” The sheriff took off his hat and wiped a hand across his bald head. “This place feels like a sauna.”

She hadn’t noticed the heat when she’d come in here earlier, but the sheriff was right. The place felt hotter than hell. Frowning, she glanced around. They were standing in the living room, surrounded by the old man’s memorabilia and lots of papers. As she stared at one stack, she noted the edges were beginning to curl up and go dark.