Highland Shapeshifter (9 page)

Lenore’s brows rose. He was really taken with the shifter. Using the distraction while he was relaxed, she quickly pulled his leg into place.

Yelping, his hands knuckled the floor. “A little warning. I swear, you have no bedside manner, anyone tell you that? What happened to your healer’s touch, huh?”

“Sorry, I don’t have time.” She softened. “Want me to jumpstart the bones knitting?”

He frowned, thinking about it. “Is it going to hurt as much as what you just did?”

She crinkled her eyes in a wince.

“Think I’ll go with nature for now, thank you so much.” Which was completely unlike him. In the past, he got all jazzed anytime she’d eased a headache for him or anything minor.
 
Her gaze narrowed. He didn’t want her expending energy on him right now. He really was concerned about the shapeshifter.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Hang on.” Spinning, she ran into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the sink and dragged out an ace bandage roll to stabilize his leg. “I need to know why the shifter is looking for Charity. And why everyone and everything is after him? Did he say anything?”

Gabe’s lips pulled down into the equivalent of a facial shrug.

“What?”

“He asked if I knew Charity. Insistently. Said it was life or death.”

“Life or death?” Lenore’s steam deflated. Whose life and whose death? “This…this is all just a mess. I have no idea what is going on.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

 
She smiled. “Thanks, Gabe. I hope so, which is why I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”

“Wait.” Gabe pressed his hands on the chair to shift up. “I’m coming.”

She pressed him back down. “No. You’ll slow me.”

“I’ll sit in the car.”

“This isn’t your fight. I shouldn’t have involved you in the first place.”

“Are you kidding? Best night of my life.” He closed one eye, thinking it over. “Well, close second. There was that time in New Hampshire…”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Only Gabe could find
that
good of a time in New Hampshire. Lenore peered down at Gabe and realized he wasn’t joking. His features shone. Clearly she’d underestimated just how much he was enamored by everything otherworldly.

“He shapeshifted in front of me, Nory. I’ll never forget that.”

Lenore clicked her mouth closed and drew back, thinking. “I can’t. Sorry.” She had to straighten this out with Starch, whether it was him who sent
monsters
after the shapeshifter or not. She softened her tone. “Trust me, Gabe, you do not want to be part of this world. It’s not as cool as you think it is.”

“What I saw was pretty damn cool.”

“And it almost got you killed.”

“Believe it or not, I was holding my own.”

She glanced pointedly at his bandaged leg.

“Twenty against two, Nory, and this is all I took.”

“Which makes you the walking wounded and trust me on this, where I’m going, all sorts of creatures will hone in on that weakness and will be on you like the last tequila at closing time. Your presence will put me in more danger. Stay here, Gabe. Please.”

His mouth thinned into a hard tight line. “Fine. Go. You’re going to do what you want anyway.” He swiped one of the cloths down his gore-covered face.

Saying anything to soothe him now would be pointless. She grabbed the portable phone where it’d fallen in the corner behind the table by the toaster, checked it for a dial tone, and then handed it to him. “You have someone you can call?” She glanced around at the mess. “For your leg? Who can get you to a clinic.”

“I’m not friendless.” No. That’s one thing she could never accuse him of.
 

He snagged her wrist. “One hour. Call me in one hour so I know you’re all right. You owe me that.”

She glanced around the dripping gray-coated countertops and nodded. She owed him much more than that.

Chapter Nine

Col doubled back. He lost the creatures following him in a tangle of alleys and tall buildings, then flew back to the man’s—Gabe’s—home. He perched in the shadow of a flowering tree. A small flock of sparrows fluttered away, squawking at the intrusion of the large hawk in their midst. The feral instincts within him honed in on the little birds with intensity.

Tamping the predator down, Col focused on the house, looking for signs that any of the monsters were still around to trouble Gabe. He didn’t want that. Not when Gabe was the only person in this ill-forsaken time that had tried to help him.

Not entirely true.

There was the woman, though she was a blurry memory at best of large eyes and wide lips.

There was also the fact that Gabe knew Charity and could direct him to her.

The place was as he left it. Glass strewn beneath the broken windows, but no movement, except for a few of the horseless
cars
that traveled along the quiet hardened roadway. None of the occupants appeared to notice or care that one of their villagers had lost his precious glass panes.

Col curled his talons around the branch, turning his head to survey the area. It seemed all of the beasts had indeed chased after him. He was about to fly into the window and transform back into himself when the main door opened and the woman who brought him to Gabe in the first place stepped out.
 

Seeing her, knowing she was real, felt like a punch to his gut. His essence flared within him, the compulsion to change back into a man and reveal himself as he was to her cursedly near overwhelmed his senses.

He shimmered already starting the shift, in total response to her.

He clamped down hard—remaining the hawk. What came over him? To shift while still in a tree? He had more restraint than that.

Her face tilted upward, searching the branches he hid within. Col’s tiny avian heart fluttered rapidly in his ribcage. She was beautiful.

More so than he’d given his delirious mind credit for conjuring. She was fine-boned and delicate, as ethereal as the Fae. White-blond hair floated around her like a wispy cloud. He felt pulled toward her, a connection strung taut between them, a frizzle of magical current upon the air.

His wings spread, though he didn’t realize he’d moved even a fraction, ready to dive out of the tree to go to her.

Her gaze snapped upward again. A slight frown of puzzlement tilting her slender brow. She looked quickly around some more before climbing into the white carriage that growled to life and carried her away.

Col had a rare moment of hesitation. Follow the woman or stay and get answers from Gabe? He went with his instincts, or rather the urge to keep her in sight if he was honest with himself. Besides, he knew where to find Gabe.

He soared after the low
car
, easily keeping its bright color in the hawk’s overly keen sight. She drove into a darker area of town, the streets running with filth, the inhabitants obviously unconcerned with keeping refuse from piling close to their doorways.

Col landed upon the overhang of a window sill as the car rolled to a stop and the woman stepped out.

Looking around warily, she ducked into the shadowed recesses between two close buildings. Col flew over the top to follow her, bristling at the men lounging along the alley walls who whistled and called out to her, waggling fingers in gestures Col had little trouble interpreting. He banked lower, ready to give the ruffians a lesson in the proper treatment of women.

The little Fae’s eyes flared with annoyance and she flashed a hand gesture of her own. Col hovered, flapping gusts of air beneath him, mesmerized by the turn of emotions playing across her face.

One of the men pushed off from the wall, stalking toward her. The woman’s gaze speared him, large violet eyes widened fractionally and again that searing connection winged across the space separating them as though they were the only two people in the world.

Col dropped low to intervene when a meaty ogre burst through the open door at the end of the alley, shouting and the bludgers scattered.

Col flew into the shadows, alighting on the metal grating of an iron stairway that climbed the side of the building.

“Where’s my shifter?” the ogre bellowed.

Col’s heart gave a jolt in recognition. ‘Twas the gruff voice of one of his captors while he’d been incapacitated beneath the haze of the vile potion.

“Not your shifter. And not your concern.” The woman craned her neck back, a waif antagonizing a mountain of unforgiving muscle. He felt a smile try to form if he had a mouth instead of a beak. She pulled out a wad of the thin paper that served as currency. “Bought and paid for. He belongs to me now so you don’t need to worry about his whereabouts.”

She slapped the paper into the ogre’s wide palm.

Col’s head went reeling. She purchased him? Like a bauble at market? Had his entire abduction been caused by this one slip of a girl? Why was everyone in this century out to see him harmed?

She poked the ogre’s chest. “I trust my money’s good enough to keep your gums from flapping. Buyer confidentiality and all that.”

The ogre placed a beefy paw over his heart. “Pix, you wound me.” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to worry about them. Those little bikers tried to steal from me. ME! They show their faces around here again…” He didn’t finish the statement, didn’t need to with how his eyes glittered.

The lass’s features relaxed, stirring all sorts of unwanted feelings inside of Col. “Thanks, Starch. So we’re good?”

The bulbous head nodded. “I take care of my loyal customers, Pix. Don’t doubt me on that.” His lips lengthened in a sardonic grin and the woman nodded, turning to go.

She took a different route than the way she came, turning around corners and twisting into thin alleyways barely wide enough for one person.

Flying above, Col kept her in sight until she ducked beneath a low awning and didn’t emerge from the other end. He swooped lower, but couldn’t find her. She must have entered the building.

He dropped out of the sky the last few feet as a man and stalked beneath the green canvas overhang she’d ducked beneath. There was a door, chained and locked from the outside. Unless she’d used some form of magic, she couldn’t have gone in there and then re-chained the doorway from within.

His gaze roamed across every crack and crate leaning against the dirty walls. He couldn’t search for long, not in the state of undress shifting left him in. Anyone could come upon him.

Turning, he scrubbed a hand down his face. “What kind of magic is this?”

“The hide in a corner kind.” She came out of the shadows where she had tucked her slight form beneath the crate and the door, covering her bright tresses beneath a cowl attached to her blouse. So simple. He felt like a fool.

He was most assuredly grinning like a fool as well, but he couldn’t help it, being this near to her.

She held a cylindrical item in her hand with a form of a rather large insect painted on it, thumb on a small tab on top. He had no idea what it could do, but had witnessed enough small weapons of this time wreak surprising damage on creatures much larger than himself. His eyes flicked from the weapon to her face. ‘Twas a strike right to his belly, looking at her up close and without the haziness of potions. That strange sensation nearly took him off his feet. Magic streamed between them as though her very essence pierced into his soul and took hold, shaking him to his core and baring everything he was for her to see out in the broad light of day.

Powerful Sorceress. He was weak before her. ‘Twas unsettling and wonderful all at once.