Shifting (24 page)

Bridger squeezed my hand and pulled me forward a step. He dropped my hand, held the gun by his cheek so it pointed at the ceiling, and cocked it. His eyes were hard, his mouth set in a grim line, and the angles of his face seemed more severe in the blue moonlight.

Grabbing my upper arm, he pulled me so close that I could feel his heart hammering against my shoulder. His lips were on my ear.

“When I open this door, you run to my Cruiser, Maggie, faster than you have ever run in your life. Get in, shut and lock the door, and do not come out. If anything happens to me, drive to the Navajo reservation and tell them Bridger O'Connell sent you.”

He didn't give me any warning, just kicked the door out and shoved me into the open. I hesitated long enough to see him lower his gun. And then I ran.

The moon-drenched night throbbed with shadows. I hadn't taken two steps when I heard the sickening sound of a gun with a silencer going off at close range. My arms flew protectively over my head but my frantic pace did not falter. A cougar crashed dead at my feet. I leaped over it and kept running.

Parked in front of Mrs. Carpenter's front porch, the SUV reflected moonlight. My bare feet hardly touched the ground as I sprinted toward it. I heard another muffled shot, barely audible above my panting. A sharp yelp met my ears as a giant Doberman fell to the gravel beside me.

And then I was at the car. I yanked open the door and slammed it shut so hard behind me, the car shuddered.

With my nose pressed against the window, I stared through the blue night at Bridger. Shadows flitted about, hugging the ground so I could just catch them out of the corner of my eye. Bridger wasn't fazed. He strode away from the barn and into the midst of the shadows, his shiny gun swinging back and forth, seemingly unaware of his dire circumstances. Calm as a summer morning, he walked toward me, gun ready, face intent.

One thing was obvious, though—the shadows were scrambling away from Bridger and his big, shiny gun. They feared him. Yet one shadow, hiding in the darkness below the porch, was braver than the others. As Bridger walked past, the shadow wormed along the gravel drive and lunged for his unprotected back. I started to scream a warning, pounding my balled fists against the window. Either he heard me or he heard the creature, because he turned and fired his gun just as a massive silver wolf collided with him.

As one they crashed to the ground, a heap of motionless fur. Then something moved. The wolf rose and was thrown lifelessly aside. Bridger scrambled up from the ground, his chest smeared with blood, and aimed his gun toward the crooked pines at the edge of the yard, as if he hadn't almost died a second before. The shadowy creatures went crazy, scrambling away from Bridger, no longer hiding where the moon did not shine. And finally I saw them. Animals. Lots and lots of animals.

Bridger ran to the car. I unlocked the door and he climbed in, slamming the door before handing me his heavy gun. He smelled like blood and gunpowder.

33

The engine revved to life and the SUV lurched forward.

“Seat belt,” Bridger snapped, buckling his without taking his eyes off the road or his foot from the gas pedal.

As we sped away, I peered out my window. The night seemed like any other summer night—innocent, starry, warm.

“Who the hell messed with the ring of protection?” he snapped.

I looked at Bridger. Obviously I wasn't very coherent, because the only thing I could think to say was, “Where are your shirt and shoes?”

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “I didn't have time to put them on,” he said, as if this should have been obvious. “I would have been too late. And why wasn't the barn locked?”

“W-what?” I couldn't think. My body temperature was plummeting, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.

“Maggie?” Bridger grabbed my hand. He swore under his breath and sped up, his SUV practically flying down Swan Street, till it skidded to a stop at the gated entry to his house. He pushed his gate remote control and the wrought iron parted. The car lurched forward, then slammed to a stop just past the gates.

Silently, he took the gun from my lap, cocked it, and got out of the car without shutting his door. On a keypad beside the gates, he typed in a few numbers and I felt more than heard the sudden hum of electricity. The gates slid shut and Bridger waited, gun pointed at the gates till they closed completely. When he climbed back into the car, I stared at him wide eyed.

“I'm so sorry. I thought if I left you alone, they'd stop hunting you,” he said. “Pretty brilliant.” My mouth fell open with shock, but he didn't notice.

Bridger stopped the car in front of the mansion and got out. He pulled his phone from his pants pocket and hit speed dial. Even though the car doors were shut, I could hear every word.

“Alex. We need help. My house.” Bridger glanced at me and caught me listening, so continued his conversation in Navajo. “
Ho-nez-da
.
Al-tah-je-jay yea-go
. Yeah. Lots of them.” He put the phone back into his pocket and walked around to my side of the SUV. I stared at him blankly. He opened the door.

“Maggie?” he prodded gently. When I didn't respond, he reached across my lap and unhooked my seat belt. “Come on.”

He took my hands and helped me out of the car, then wrapped an arm around my shoulders and guided me toward the house.

It wasn't until we were on the front porch that I snapped out of my trance. I stopped moving, refusing to let him guide me a step farther.

“What is going on?” I asked shakily, trying not to look at the wolf blood drying on his chest.

“You're in shock. That happens to a lot of people when they experience trauma. You need to lie down and—”

“I don't mean what's going on with me!” I shouted. “Why the heck am I being hunted by those animals? Why do they keep trying and trying to kill me? And how are
you
a part of this, Bridger O'Connell?”

Bridger's face hardened. “How many times have they tried to kill you?”

“I don't know! At least two. Or three.” I thought for a minute. There had been tonight, the night at the mine, the coyotes on my way to work, the pack of dogs that attacked me the first time I'd shifted in Silver City. “Freaking four times! They have surrounded me four times; I have been physically attacked three. And that's not counting graduation night.”

Bridger's hand turned icy cold on my upper arm, and the blood drained from his face. “How have you survived?”

I looked into his eyes and wondered if I could tell him the truth, that I had survived by becoming an animal, just like them. Would he shoot me if he knew that?

“Can we go inside, please?” I asked, for I didn't know what to say.

He opened the front door.

“What? You didn't lock your door, either?” I taunted bitterly.

“Not when I was rushing to save your butt.”

“You know, I don't know why you bothered. I sort of thought we weren't friends anymore,” I muttered under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

He chuckled and shook his head. “As far as I'm concerned, we're not.”

That hurt.

He stepped through the front door. I followed him into the room with the giant fireplace.

“So where's your girlfriend?” I asked.

“Maggie, it's not what you think,” Bridger said, walking away. When I didn't follow, he turned and grabbed my hand, pulling me through the room.

The next room was some sort of office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a desk in front of them. Cozy leather chairs were in two corners, and deer antler lamps glowed in here, too. The next room was a dining room with a long, narrow table that had to sit at least twenty people in chairs that looked carved out of knotty pine branches, with a deer antler chandelier centered above the table. Then we were in an oversized kitchen with stone countertops and rows of polished wood cupboards. The marble floor was frigid under my bare feet.

Bridger led me to a small round table nestled in a corner by French doors. “Just sit,” he instructed. “I'm going to get cleaned up a little bit, then make you something warm to drink.” I sat.

At the kitchen sink, he turned on the water and began sponging away the blood that had dried on his chest. Dried blood on human skin brought back unpleasant memories. I closed my eyes.

After a few minutes of splashing, Bridger said, “The blood's gone.”

He went about the kitchen getting the things he needed, his bare feet silent on the granite tile, his muscular torso the object of my speculation more often than not. I couldn't pull my eyes away from him. The urge to run to him, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him for an eternity was almost overwhelming.

Bridger paused and tilted his head to the side, as if listening for something. His eyes met mine and one black eyebrow arched up. A brilliant smile spread across his face. Then he went back about his task, measuring hot chocolate powder into a mug, grinning.

I felt myself blush scarlet. “You know, that is so unfair.”

He looked at me devilishly. “I know.”

I rubbed my cold hands together and glanced under the table at my bare feet. Not really the time or place to feel underdressed, but I couldn't help it.

“So, what's her name and how come you aren't with her tonight?” I asked, trying my hardest to squelch the sudden surge of jealousy that made my blood simmer.

“You don't need to be jealous of Angelene.” He put the mug into the microwave and pushed some buttons. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the counter and watched me.

“I'm not jealous,” I lied. Bridger grinned. “Where is she? How come you two aren't swapping spit at the health food store?”

“I put her on a plane for France this morning. She's gone home.”

“Why'd she go home?”

“Because I completed my part of a family arrangement.” He opened the microwave and took out the mug. “It's pretty hot,” he warned, setting the cup in front of me. He sat down, put his elbows on the table, and leaned toward me. I took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate. It wasn't too hot, and I realized I was starving. I wrapped my cold hands around the mug and downed it.

When I set the empty mug on the table, Bridger was watching me with raised eyebrows. “What? No more questions?” he asked.

“I've really missed you,” I whispered, looking into my empty mug.

He let out a long breath of air. “Believe me, I know.”

I looked at him.

“Maggie, I don't know what's wrong with me—I feel
everything
you feel. Even when you aren't beside me. Even when I'm
asleep
.” For the first time I noticed how tired he looked—how miserable. Black half-moons darkened the skin beneath his eyes and his cheeks were almost gaunt and covered with black stubble. “I took Angelene all the way to Deming for dinner, hoping to get you out of my head, but no. All that evening, all I could feel was miserable anguish.
Your
miserable anguish! And this morning at Wal-Mart, it was all I could do not to fall to the floor and cry, your emotions were so strong.” He reached his hand across the table and took mine. His eyes turned haunted. “And the night you were at the mine …” A shiver racked his body. “What happened? Why were you there?”

“You were there, too,” I accused.

“Of course I was there! Your fear—it was just like tonight! I thought you were going to be killed! But I couldn't find you! What happened?”

“I killed three men that night,” I whispered, waiting for his look of revulsion, waiting for him to yank his warm hand away from mine. But he didn't—just waited patiently for me to finish. “I killed some men who were trying to kill me,” I said, fighting a sudden surge of guilt that left me breathless. “And Mrs. Carpenter. They—”

His hand tightened on mine. “They what?”

“They got into her house again. I thought if I moved the ring of protection around her, she'd be safe, but I was wrong.”

“Did they hurt her? The house blessing. It should have kept her safe.”

“They didn't hurt her. She fell and broke her hip. But Duke …” Tears started pooling in my eyes.

“No more tears!” Bridger insisted loudly, startling the tears into staying put. “And no more guilt! All I have felt for days is your guilt and your sorrow! It has been so hard to get out of bed every day, Maggie, knowing I have to feel what you are feeling and knowing I couldn't be there to help you through it!”

“Why couldn't you? I really needed a friend!”

“Remember I told you I had a fight with my father? It was because of you. I made a deal with him. I
promised
to stay away from you for two weeks.”

“Why?” I asked again, unable to hide the hurt in my voice.

“Because I am in love with you!”

34

A jolt of energy passed through me as his words worked their way into my brain. “Well, what does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything! Once I fall in love, I can't fall
out
of love unless you die or I die. I am bound. To you.”

I didn't know whether to jump for joy or slap him across the face. Honestly, was I the worst person in the world to fall in love with? “Well, is that such a bad thing, falling in love with your best friend?” I finally asked.

For a moment he stared at me. Then he was up and around the table in two steps, pulling me to my feet. His eyes looked half mad and fevered as he grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me. There was no hesitation in his lips this time. They were urgent and relentless. And they felt perfect against mine. I breathed in his breath and wrapped my arms firmly around his neck with the intention of never letting him go again. But he pulled his face away from mine long before I'd had enough.

“Maggie, I have missed you so much. There is no person on this planet I would rather love.”

I was speechless, in complete shock. The ghost of a grin flickered on his lips an instant before they touched mine. He kissed me slowly this time, a kiss that showed me how he felt more thoroughly than any words could have. And then it ended, with me gasping for breath and wanting more.

“Come on. We need to talk,” he said, leading me by the hand to the room at the front of the house. He paused in front of a sleek leather sofa and stuck his hand into his pocket. When he pulled his hand out, it was filled with turquoise.

“What is that?” I asked. He didn't answer. Instead, he wrapped the turquoise around his neck. “Is that a
heishe
choker?” I asked, trying to stifle the warning bell that was dinging in my brain.

“Yeah. How do you know about these?”

“Yana. She said bad men wear them.”

Bridger's lips thinned. “So do good men. I'm wearing this so you know that every word that comes out of my mouth is the truth. If I lie, my
heishe
beads will choke me.”

He drew me down beside him, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me against his shoulder. This close to him, I found it hard to be rational. Choker momentarily forgotten, I melted into him.

“After not being able to touch you for so long, this feels so good,” he said, pressing his cheek against my head. “Why'd you change your hair again?”

“Because it fit my mood.”

“It makes your eyes look like liquid gold. You have the most bewitching eyes I have ever seen.”

I closed my eyes and listened to his heart for a moment, the slow, calming rhythm.

“Bridger?”

“Hmm?”

“Who is Angelene?” I know this sounds crazy, but I was more interested in her than I was in the things trying to kill me—at least for the moment.

“Angelene was my girlfriend. Last year, I thought she was the one for me. I thought I loved her.”

I tried to suppress the sudden jealousy that sprung to life inside of me. “What happened?”

“Well, the summer after junior year, I went to France and lived with my parents' friends. Angelene is their daughter. She and I got incredibly close that summer. I would have sworn then that I loved her. But now I know I never did. Love is so much more than making out and liking how she looks beside me.

“I didn't mean to fall in love with you, Maggie. I even tried not to. I thought if I never touched you and stopped flirting with you, nothing more than friendship could grow between us. I was wrong. From the first moment I saw you, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. When I realized I was hopelessly screwed, I made the mistake of confiding in Katie. She called my dad and told him, in exchange for a plane ticket back to France. My dad told me I was an idiot and Angelene was on a plane for Silver City. My dad said I had to be sure I didn't still love Angelene before I changed my mind about her. She would have been the ideal match for me, in my parents' eyes. So my father and I made the deal I mentioned earlier. I wouldn't see you for two weeks, and during those two weeks I would resume my relationship with Angelene where it had left off. Boyfriend and girlfriend. At the end of those two weeks, if I wasn't madly in love with Angelene again, which my father was certain I would be, I could pursue … you.”

He looked down at me, searching my face. “Maggie?”

“What?” I whispered.

“Will you forgive me? For not telling you what was going on? For not telling you about Angelene?”

I stared into his dark eyes and nodded. How could I not forgive him?

“Maggie?”

“What?”

“I never want to be away from you again. Does that scare you?”

I looked away from his face, fighting against a sudden shortness of breath. “I'm more scared of losing you than keeping you around.”

He sighed and sank onto the sofa. “Good. Because, like it or not, I'm bound to you until one of us dies.”

“Wait. You're
what
to me?” I asked.

He shook his head and clamped his lips shut, and then he sighed. “It has to do with my
nah-e-thlai
, my guide. If I fall in love, I can't fall out of love. If you die before me, I will live with a broken heart for the rest of my life. So you'll be stuck with me loving you until the day I die. Does that scare you?”

For the first time in my life, someone who would love me forever? I smiled. “No. Actually, that's pretty cool. But I want something to change between us.”

One of his eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Can I kiss you whenever I want to?”

For an answer, he kissed me. “I'll be upset if you don't,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against mine and tangling his hand in my loose hair.

A long, mournful wail echoed outside, shattering the sense of safety that had been forming around me. I sat straight up, clutching Bridger's hand.

“They've found me. They're here,” I said, turning my haunted eyes to him.

“They won't come in. They can't.”

“How do you know?” I peered out the tall, wide windows into the dark night and glimpsed a shadow darting into the trees.

“The security system. I turned on electric shock wires when we drove in.”

“Why do they want me?” I whispered.

“Because of me.”

I whipped around to look at him, absolutely shocked.

“What does this have to do with you?”

Bridger's face hardened. “They are trying to find a way to hurt me because of who my father is—because of who I will become. I am truly sorry that you have been dragged into my problems. I can't believe it has come to this.”

“Come to what?” I asked, fighting the urge to grab his shoulders and shake him.

“Remember I told you I agreed to date Angelene?”

“Yeah, that was two minutes ago.”

“I had my own reason. I hoped if I pretended to lose interest in you, they would stop hunting you.”

“Wait a sec. You thought if you dated some French blond hottie, those …
things
would stop hunting me? I don't understand what
you
have to do with any of this. I thought they were after me because—” My jaw snapped noisily shut before I could finish my thoughts. I had the sudden compulsion to look at the array of guns decorating the room. There were hundreds of guns: big, small, some ancient and tarnished, some high-tech and shiny. But all of them, without a doubt, deadly.

When I looked back at Bridger, his eyes held the faintest shadow of uncertainty. “You were saying?” he asked.

“They aren't attacking me because of you. They came looking for me before we ever met. Before I moved to Silver City.”

His eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I need to know what the heck you are talking about so I know how much to tell you! How is it you know all about these things that are following me, and what are they?”

He stood from the sofa and started pacing around the room. “
Yea-naa-gloo-shee
,” Bridger whispered. “That's Navajo for ‘With it he goes on all four.' ”

I opened my mouth to ask him what the heck he'd just said, but his face was so pale, so lost in another world, I didn't make a noise.

“The Navajo call them witches. They steal the skin of an animal and become that animal. They are Skinwalkers.” He brought his dark eyes up to meet mine. “I can feel the evil in some of them, and it is the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced in my life.” A shiver racked his body. “They do horrible, malicious things in exchange for the power they gain by becoming an animal. And they are smart. Very,
very
smart.” His dark eyes seemed to suddenly grasp something. He clenched his jaw and stared at me as if I had made him do something he didn't want to.

“How have you survived four attacks, Maggie Mae?” A light seemed to burn behind his dark eyes. “And how did you kill three men that night at the mine? Did you have a gun? A knife? Are you trained in hand-to-hand combat?”

I swallowed the sudden apprehension filling my throat and took a deep breath, about to tell him my secret. The lights flickered and the house went pitch black before a word left my mouth.

It lasted only a heartbeat, that blackness, for the lights flickered back to warm life. A sudden ringing shattered the silence. I jumped from the sofa and leaped to Bridger's side.

“It's all right,” he said, voice shaky. “It's just someone ringing in from the gate.”

He walked to the front door and I followed on his heels, but instead of opening the door, he pushed a button on an intercom.

“Who is this?” he demanded.

A sharp jolt of static cracked from the intercom; then a silky smooth female voice came on.

“Release the girl to us,” the voice said.

Bridger's eyes turned hard. “Over my dead body,” he barked into the intercom.

“Well, wouldn't that be a lovely bonus,” the woman said with a laugh. In the background I could hear the chortling and braying of animals. “Bridger, the odds are set highly against you. Don't think we will spare you because of who your father is. You are one; we are legion. You can't keep us at bay forever.”

Bridger's voice was steely cold when he spoke. “I will give you a warning. But only one. I won't be alone for long. Leave now or you will all die.”

There was a pause before the woman's voice crackled to life. “Those are big words coming from a lone boy, Bridger.” She had an accent, something much smoother than the typical American accent. Maybe British. “Now it is my turn to give the warning. We have disarmed your security system. You have ten minutes to decide what to do before we come in and kill you.”

Bridger's breath quickened. The small muscles of his jaw flexed and released over and over. His eyes met mine.

“I will not hand her over so that you can murder her,” Bridger insisted. He reached for my hand and pulled me into a one-arm embrace.

“Murder her?” the woman asked lightly. “Who said anything about murder? You're the only one who's going to die. We just want her back.”