Page 29 of Shifting Years (Whispering Hills #5)

Todd

The pickup truck honked once, then rumbled away, leaving a cloud of dust on the gravel road.

Ten minutes of walking on dirt and rock gave way to a two-lane highway, and soon, I found myself at the edge of another small Southern town.

Brick storefronts lined the main street; the air was thick with the scent of fried food and asphalt baking in the sun.

This wasn't just another place. Something felt off, like I'd walked into a memory I couldn't quite place, a dream I barely remembered upon waking.

Men held hands, and two women stopped and stared. I thought about asking people if they knew me, but something yanked me toward the white marble and red brick courthouse. Like a soldier, I marched .

A tall lady in her thirties with short curly hair gawked before whispering to a smaller, younger blonde. Even when I'm human, my ears hear the lowest whisper, but not now. Their racing heartbeats were loud though.

Before I could ask, she gestured toward another room where someone was breathing fast. Police officers stayed at the edge of my vision as I entered. I approached the sheriff, an older man with a handlebar mustache, several faded bruises, and an arm and leg in a cast.

Like the taller lady, he held his gaze before mouthing "Wow."

Inside the jail cell, a short man flung himself at the bars, screaming my name so loudly it echoed through the building.

His voice cracked with raw desperation, tears streaking down his face.

He slammed his fists against the metal, then turned to the brick wall, punching until bits of mortar crumbled onto the floor.

He's strong like me.

Going there and bending the bars sounded like a good idea, but they were strong enough to keep him in. There was a reason for that.

"Let me out! Now."

The sheriff whispered so low, a human wouldn't hear. "You hear me?"

I nodded. With a slight mustache twitch, he tossed me the keys. From the twelve different choices, I picked the right one on the first try.

Metal crashed against brick as the little man threw himself into my arms, convulsing as he babbled my name. His tongue snaked into my mouth before peppering my face with kisses.

It felt right, but I should be careful doing things like this in public. The strange yet familiar man cried more before giving me one last kiss. As I stared, his expression turned serious.

With reluctance, I steadied him on his feet, knowing my next words would shatter him. "What's your name?"

He froze. "What?"

I brushed a hand through my shaggy hair, exposing the bullet scar above my ear. The confusion on his face deepened into something worse: dread.

He was smart and his hands went up to his face.

"I don't remember hardly anything, uh…"

"Mike," he said with a dry cough.

Like setting a broken leg in combat, it was best to do it quickly. "I don't know you . I'm so sorry." The sheriff had the feel of a good guy and Mike had slid his tongue down my throat. I had to be around friends and lovers.

Mike's eyes reddened as he listened to my story on how I'd been a prisoner of war, then wandered America searching for someone I couldn't remember. Once done, I asked the question. "Can you all, uh, turn?"

"Into a wolf?" asked Mike.

The sheriff looked up as if expecting a tornado, but we were inside. "Yep."

Despite the situation, I smiled slightly. The commander had turned into a tiger, but I'd never found another like me. "Great, right?"

"No, it's not," said Mike.

'Because you don't remember me' was obvious but it was time for his story about a giant armored worm. I interrupted since worms didn't have scales, but snakes did. It seemed foolish when he mentioned how a little girl got taken.

I faced the sheriff. "And you all are just sitting here?"

"Henry took out several shifters in town and those we sent after him. We sent more to scout, and he found over half. We keep sending men into the grinder, it'll turn into—"

My jaw tightened. "Another Vietnam?"

"Yeah, in fact. More men weren't the answer."

Bile rose in my throat. People who weren't there thought they knew how to win the war. They didn't have to sit in a dank, rainy jungle or watch friends slowly stabbed with sharpened bamboo. My fist clenched and an unexpected icy chill came over me.

Mike mouthed, "Later". The sheriff was right. He didn't go to a foreign country and see his brothers die, but he saw men slaughtered. What was more horrific? Regular bullets and sadistic commanders, or a toothy monster eating loved ones?

Mike didn't look like a soldier, but he rammed a truck into it and saved a man. Strange how that night is so clear to me now.

"Henry's made a nest up there and we told the other communities, although they already sensed something's wrong.

It's staying there and not killing anyone.

Except those who go up there." He paused.

"We didn't smell Angel's presence the first time or when Omegas sneak off on their own.

" His gaze lingered on Mike. "Had him locked in for his own safety. "

"Oh, I know all about locking someone in cages." His face fell and it was a low blow. My hands went out in apology. "Sorry. Am I under arrest?"

"No, and good luck. Hope we see you again. Both of you. We've already lost enough wolves."

He had good instincts. Mike and I exited the courthouse, and I ignored the casual glances in our direction. "Let's go get her."

He stayed two steps higher, so he could look me in the eye.

His fingers pushed into my biceps, neck, and chest while tears dripped from his light green eyes every time I leaned into his touch.

"It's real. I wondered what it would be like.

You're here, but not, because you don't know me.

Not going to complain. That's how magic works you know, because there's always a cost."

Part of me, be it man, beast, or Alpha, wanted to take this little man and find those lost memories and make new ones. Yet, I was a soldier with an upcoming battle. Someone got left behind like me and I'd be damned if I'd sit back.

"We'll figure this out later, but right now, we need to go."

Raised eyebrows over light-green eyes rose. "Just like that, with no plan? You were always planning everything! No more? Go there and assume we'll win?"

"It's not a jungle war."

"I didn't say it was." We got into a white truck smelling strongly of fruits and vegetables. He drove since he knew the way, but I suggested a side trip to a guns and ammo store I passed while hitchhiking. Amazingly, he knew the one.

I breathed in deep, sensing a strong sugar scent.

His cheeks flushed red. "It's my slick." His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "Makes it easy for, uh, me to accept you in me."

I nodded in understanding and some vague memories returned. "So, we liked each other?" He winced at my past tense.

He looked out to the road, maybe without an answer. "We searched for each other for years, and when we finally found each other… well, we were good in bed." His voice softened, thick with something unspoken. More of that familiar sweetness filled the air. "Great, really, to be honest."

I forced the words out, his intoxicating scent wrapping around me. "Did we love each other?"

"I can't answer for you." He blinked a few times. "Nobody made me cry like you when you left or when I saw that damn letter. There had to be love, for a pain like that."

I nodded. I didn't remember leaving for war, but I must have. And I must have loved him. I hoped I did. He deserved that much.

Decency said I should answer his question, but I didn't know the man except as a slab of Swiss cheese memory. Little things like tiny freckles along his back stayed in my head, but until today I couldn't see his beautiful face.

Soon, we pulled in front of an old white building with gravel crunching slowly under truck tires. A weathered hand-painted sign advertised 'Hunting Supplies N' More.'

I held his hand and helped Mike out of his seat. To my shame, I released our grip as we approached the door, and he did the same. Whispering Hills might be for men and women like us, but it wasn't the rest of the world.

The eighties will be better. There was a thought: Spending the next decade with him.

The lover's mind left, and the fighter stepped up. Henry's fast, armored, and sneaky as hell. He couldn't see, but I can, especially with telescopic sights. After introducing Mike as my hunting buddy, I asked for something that could take down a big bear.

Mike pointed to the glass display and his voice deepened. "How much for the M15 pistol?" It was a regular gun, with silver metal and wood on the grip's sides, and used by military officers. Someone brought it all the way from Vietnam, then sold it for reasons unknown.

After getting permission to use the range, we left with our purchases.

Mine was for a hidden kill from a distance, and his choice was up and personal.

The targets were ten yards away and he jogged back until an Olympic-size pool could fit between them.

He loaded the gun, put on ear protection, and aimed as if he had experience.

The guy with tie-dye shirts in my memory who flashed peace signs looked like he could kill.

His gun safety was on point, and at no time did he aim at me. He fired five times, still wincing from under the ear covering. Every metal target spun on a pole.

"Dead center," I mouthed. "Nice." Shifter abilities helped, but there was more. Nobody holds a gun like that without practice.

He pulled off the protection. "Had to defend myself against Henry, when he was still human, or whatever the hell you could call him." His jaw tightened. "Then I was worried my little Angel would find it and think it was a toy."

He could have gotten a lock or a gun safe, but it didn't seem right to fight about it.

He gestured to his gun and my rifle. "All the other Alpha shifters brought nothing. Only the sheriff thought differently."