Timeless Moon (2 page)

This time, she really was in over her head.

She barely dodged the flashing fangs and leaped sideways and up, before landing on the snake's broad back to dig in her claws. He hissed and twisted and beat at her with his tail. She lost her grip again and went sailing, but landed on her feet this time, allowing her to jump out of the way of his next strike.

To her left a feline roar vibrated in her ears just as orange stripes flashed by the corner of her vision. A massive tiger grabbed a
second
snake by the neck just before it had sunk its teeth into her hind leg.
Shit! I didn't even realize it was there! What the hell's happening to my foresight?

Josette
didn't dare take her eyes off the attacker in front of her, praying that the new cat was on her side,
since she didn't recognize the scent. Sounds and smells erupted around her as natural enemies fought for dominance in the cool night. Minutes slipped by as she parried and slashed with teeth and claws, and threw nets of magic that were shrugged off with annoying ease. She could still see and sense the other snakes in the jungle, and it was difficult to concentrate on what was in front of her. But her opponent had no such difficulty. He moved with a clarity of thought that surprised her. It wasn't until long moments later, when the coppery scent of blood and a tiger's roar of triumph filled the air, that the viper got distracted.

She took the opportunity to attack with every ounce of her strength. With a snarl she threw herself toward the snake, opened her jaws wide and closed them around the back of his neck. The snake frothed and shot venom from its fangs, forcing her to close her eyes to keep them from getting burned. She sunk her teeth deeper, and then twisted sharply. The images in her mind shattered as his back broke and bitter blood flooded her mouth. The snake's eyes went flat and empty, his head hung limp from a narrow strip of scaled flesh.

Josette
let the carcass drop from her mouth and spat out the venom-laced blood. The smell wouldn't go away as easily. She'd be smelling traces of the choking acrid scent for the next week.

"Viper blood is awful, isn't it?" She turned her
head toward the new cat and realized she recognized the voice.

"Tasha?" Could this massive Bengal tiger be the lovely redheaded Wolven agent who was her twin sister Yvette's frequent roommate at medical conferences?

The tiger paused from licking her paw and cleaning the red stains from the short orange fur on her nose. As she got closer,
Josette
realized Tasha smelled like sweet cream and tangy citrus, though it was difficult to smell anything over the venom.

"Aren't you glad I happened to be wandering by? Looks like you had your hands full. Oh, and I found your clothes. I put them over behind the tree."

She shook her head and spat again. "Not right now. I need to get home. I
saw
his mate ransacking my house."

She put a subtle emphasis on the word
saw,
so that Tasha would know it had been a vision. His
mate.
The woman had loved him
…
no doubt of that, and now he was dead. Likely the woman would be, too, from the shock of losing him. Josette's voice was flat, almost emotionless. It made Tasha cock her head slightly and pitch her ears forward curiously.

Josette
shrugged and motioned with one paw toward the headless snake. "I was just thinking that this should probably bother me. But it doesn't."

A deep sigh threw mist into the chilling air that enveloped the wide tawny head. "There have been too
many attempts on your life for far too long. I wish I knew what to do about it, but I don't even know the cause of it all."

"It's a long story. But if you have time, I could use your help at the house. If this man's mate didn't die with him, maybe we can learn who they worked for. For the first time, I don't think it was Ahmad who sent this killer."
Josette
took off at a run, leaving the tiger to catch up or not.

Tasha's voice sounded surprised as she easily kept pace with the smaller cat. "Really? Who could it be if not him?"

Josette
didn't answer. She just increased her effort, forcing the tiger to speed up. They ran full out, their furred forms blending in the shadows as they moved like the wind over rough scrub grass, sand, and cactus.
Josette
didn't hesitate. She knew each rock, each plant from long years of experience living here in the desert. It was nice that Tasha trusted her enough to blindly fly through the night at her side.

It was too late, though, as she suspected it might be. The woman was already dead, just outside the front door. But she could smell again. After the cleansing breeze from the run, she knew the woman hadn't been alone. Tasha realized it, too, and, with head high and nostrils flared, the tiger began to slowly circle the tiny cabin.

Josette
sighed and stepped onto the covered porch. "You won't find anyone. They always leave after I
kill the first one. Cowards." She shifted forms as she walked the few steps to the door, so she was in human form when she walked through the entrance.

The sight that greeted her made her want to both scream and cry. Her pretty home had been ransacked, and obviously by professionals. Lights were on all over the house, revealing furnishings shattered or shredded. Curtains drooped from twisted rods, and even the picture tube of the small black-and-white television had been smashed. Worst of all, her favorite clock
—a special gift from her sister that told the time in multiple zones and had the present year— was in pieces.

Tasha walked in behind her and touched her shoulder in sympathy at the sliced upholstery, broken vases, and upended bookcases. "Oh, Aspen! I'm so sorry!"

The name didn't surprise her. Aspen was the name she'd chosen for herself to match her twin's choice
—
Yvette
became Amber, and
Aspen
seemed to fit at the time. But she'd never really thought of herself as Aspen, even after the many years of bearing the name. Changes in identity were common among the longer-lived Sazi, but they didn't always stick.

A growl escaped her while walking through the mess toward the bedroom, skirting glass and nails that could puncture her bare feet. She didn't have many things
…
lived a simple existence here in the desert, but the few things she did have were important to her. Killing her was one thing, but this
—

"Damn it! Why would someone
do
this?" She picked up the cracked lid to a painted music box she'd had for over a century and carefully placed it back on the broken dresser top.

"Could they have been looking for something?" Tasha's voice was loud from the next room. It was a logical question for the law enforcement agent to ask. "You were at the council meeting in Chicago before Christmas. Did anyone ask you to keep something for them?"

The question was innocent, with no teasing inflection to it, meaning that not
everybody
in the entire shapeshifter world had heard what happened at that meeting. Thank heavens. It was going to be hard enough to live down within her own family. She shook her head, even though Tasha wouldn't see it. She remembered the meeting of the Sazi council rather
…
vividly
and that wasn't one of the things that happened.

"I didn't stay long enough. I'd just barely arrived when all hell broke loose. You probably heard about the spider attack, right?" Or did that just happen? She furrowed her brow. "What year is this?"

Tasha told her and she breathed a sigh of relief. Things hadn't gone too far yet. There was still time. She barely noticed when the redhead continued. "Uh, yeah. That's
definitely
been a topic of conversation in the Wolven offices."

No doubt. Spider shifters had been presumed by many Sazi to be a myth
—the magical equivalent of a
boogeyman. Even
Josette
had presumed them to be at least extinct. But now they were back
—thanks in part, according to Amber's research, to double-recessive genes in human-shifter descendants.

She turned to see Tasha standing naked in the doorway and realized she was still nude as well. She lifted up the chest of drawers from where it was facedown on the floor and pulled a fluffy gray stack of fabric from inside. "Here, I've got some sweats that will fit you if you want. No reason for you to be uncomfortable while I clean up."

Tasha nodded and took the clothes from her grasp. "I'll give you a hand. We can get this place shaped up in no time. Then we can have a drink and I'll tell you why I'm here."

Rick Johnson lounged
in cat form on a section of rock that had been warmed by the late afternoon sun. It was a small outcropping on a tall needlelike rock formation. Below him a large white wolf picked his way laboriously upward. He'd recognized Lucas Santiago from a distance even before the scent of buffalo grass and tangy cactus fruit drifted to
h
is nose. Rather than greet the other Sazi, he had decided to wait. After all, Lucas was coming into
his
territory and doing it knowing full well that Rick did not want to be disturbed. Even though bobcats generally interacted well with other Sazi species due to their relative size and nonaggression, when the wolf finally came to a stop a few yards away, sinking onto his haunches, Rick greeted him with a carefully chosen barb.
“T
ook you long enough. You're getting out of shape."

Lucas didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he used his rear paw to scratch behind his ear, deliberately giving the bobcat a clear view of his backside. It was a subtle invitation among the Sazi to "kiss my ass."

Rick snorted in wry amusement. The old wolf
hadn't changed much in the years since he'd last seen him. Oh, there was probably a little artful graying added to the temples in human form, maybe a tiny paunch
—just enough to fool the humans into thinking he was aging. Not that he was. No, Lucas was just the most recent identity of one of the most powerful Sazi Rick had ever met. There was no telling how ancient the old wolf really was, but it was telling that Charles Wingate, Chief Justice of all the Sazi, treated the other man as an absolute equal.

"So, what brings you to the middle of godforsaken nowhere?"

"Looking for you, of course." Lucas lay down, making himself carefully comfortable on the tiny shelf. He didn't meet Rick's eyes, acknowledging that he was in bobcat territory, an uninvited guest. Locking gazes would be a direct challenge. It was a nice gesture, especially since Lucas could wipe the floor with Rick's fuzzy butt.

Rick sighed and smoothed a few hairs on his tawny, spotted hide with his tongue. He'd always known it was too good to last. Sooner or later someone was bound to come after him. The surprising thing was that it hadn't happened before. What he didn't know was whether he was glad or angry, sorry or relieved.

He'd come to the South Dakota wilderness years ago, desperate to escape from a life that had spiraled out of control. When he'd first joined Wolven things
had made sense to him, right was right, wrong wasn't. He'd seen everything in crystal clear black and white. But as the years passed, he'd been forced to choose the lesser wrong, to do evil in hope of preventing something even worse. Eventually everything became a uniform shade of gray. There were no easy answers
—weren't any answers at all.
Burn out
didn't even begin to describe what he'd felt at the time.

Rather than take an indefinite "medical leave," or early retirement, he'd chosen to fake his own death. He'd rigged an explosion in the mine of a man he'd been investigating, deliberately causing a cave-in when no workers were inside. Only Lucas, Charles, and one other knew he hadn't perished.

Rick forced his mind back to the present. Lucas was here. Judging by the vague answers the old wolf was giving, he was trying to manipulate him by playing into a cat's natural curiosity. He
was
curious, but not curious enough to play along. Instead, he decided to confound the other man by playing host. "There's an old bison down there. She's injured and can't keep up with the herd."

Lucas's ears pricked up. Rick could actually feel the hunger knotting the old man's belly. How long had it been since his last meal?

"I haven't had wild bison in
…
" Lucas let the sentence trail off. It occurred to Rick that perhaps he
couldn't
remember how long it had been. Once upon
a time there had been huge herds of the majestic beasts roaming the plains. The ground vibrated under the thunder of thousands of hooves. Rick could remember it as clearly as if it had been yesterday. He suspected Lucas could as well. But the huge herds were gone, disappeared into the mists of history
— destroyed mostly in an effort to crush the Native American peoples who relied on them as a staple of their diet. Few buffalo remained, and those that did were nearly as domesticated as cattle.

"Go. Eat."