Page 30 of Shifting Years (Whispering Hills #5)

"Foolish pride," I said. "We're tooth and claw, but still men. I imagined it didn't sit well with some shifters to think they needed more."

"Alphas," said Mike with a tone some women used toward men.

I quickly set up my rifle and adjusted my ear protection.

One shot later, I didn't dent the metal but punched a hole through it and the sandbags behind.

"Not all Alphas are foolish." Before he argued, I continued.

"I'd love nothing more than to tear into that thing, so he knows what it feels like, but I can be practical. "

Or a stone-cold killer.

We returned to the truck and off to Nightback Ridge, as it was now called, but this time I drove.

We stayed in general silence. A little girl was out there, so casual conversation felt wrong.

That didn't stop us from silently battling over the radio dial with me flipping it to Convoy on a country music station, only for Mike to switch it back to Afternoon Delight .

Mike slumped back. "You don't know my girl and she's not from you. Hell, you don't even really remember us . Why help?"

"Guess there's something inside me that says 'Do it'."

I expected a laugh, or he'd tell me I was full of myself. Instead, he smiled softly. "I studied books and read from Kennedy, Malcolm Little, uh X, and Rod Serling's college speeches. That's it. Other men and women did things, but not me."

"You're a little girl's father when you had nobody else around. You raised her yourself. That's something." He nodded as if he appreciated my words but didn't believe them.

Late evening came as we approached the campground and memories of Vietnam after ambushes came. The scent of death was in the air and not just from the copper-smelling blood and rot. Rain wouldn't take it away. That sort of stink stayed for years. My head turned, hoping I'd pick up something.

"There's nothing to hear," said Mike. "The animals avoid the area now. It's like they know in their bones, it's not for them."

I tensed, rehearsing an apology.

"No!" he whisper-shouted. "I know what you're about to ask and I'm not staying behind. Angel's my blood."

He misunderstood me, but with reason. My Swiss-cheese memory said Alphas treated their Omegas well enough, but like a housekeeper you loved. There were expectations I'd keep him away, like something valuable, while I went off to fight again.

Close…

"That's not it," I explained. "Every part of me wants to stay next to you, but I can't." I gestured to the rifle, already knowing the answer. "Do you know how to use this?"

"No. Only handguns."

"Then it's on me. You have to take point."

He held out his hands. "What does that mean?"

Shame burned through me. "You have to walk out alone, while I hide."

He didn't say no but continued. "The sheriff wanted me to draw out Henry, and it didn't work. He eventually got out of the lake. I don't know if it'll work again."

"We have guns," I said.

He said nothing, but I got the unsaid sentence. 'You had them in Vietnam and look how that turned out.'

The Omega and man I'd protect with my life trudged toward rotted-wood log cabins, ready to unload a shot, and I did the same. Randomly I'd look around and then down the barrel.

Mike haunted my dreams, and what bits I remembered were precious, but he wasn't a monster hunter with a killer's eyes. My brain said it was a father-daughter connection, but did I make him hard by leaving?

Mike squared his shoulders and stepped into the shadows. I couldn't help but admire his courage. He wasn't a soldier, or trained for this, but he moved with the steady resolve of a father who'd risk everything for his child.

Including going around a cabin.

Idiot!

He had to know I couldn't see from my prone position. One second for him to realize his mistake turned into a few then several. There were no screams, but I still yelled. "Mike!"

Any advantage I might have had was gone, but if Henry could hear, he'd come after me instead. I steadied my rifle, waiting to unload cartridges into an armored snake. Dammit, Mike. Why would you make me lose my line of sight?

Because he saw something so horrible, he didn't think.

My throat burned. I'd find a monster or a dying Omega, if not already eaten.

The silence felt wrong and the air smelled of blood and rot. I ran toward the cabins, heart pounding, rifle at the ready, but I knew I wouldn't have time to aim if Henry appeared. I darted between the two buildings and skidded to a stop.

A school-bus-long nightmare slithered from the shadows, its armored body gleaming in the dim light.

It reared up, its circular mouth split open with rows of rotating, serrated teeth mashed together in a sound like ground metal.

Curved mandibles or 'teeth' clicked down the metallic-blue sides.

It had the vague feel of a torturous scream.

I didn't speak 'monster', but the language was universal.

Now I'm the idiot.

We were too close. I'd only get one, maybe two shots. I lined up its bloated head in my sights, finger on the trigger. Then it rose. Floated. Off the ground.

Mike, you didn't tell me it could do that!

Two shots rang out, pinging off metal, then… click. My rifle jammed. What? I cleaned it myself.

From the shadows, two figures emerged. One, tall, redheaded, and statuesque, shimmered in a flowing beige gown that caught the moonlight like spun gold. The other, a petite brunette in denim shorts and a cropped red top, looked as if she had just stepped off a farm.

They didn't look like they belonged together, yet they moved in perfect sync, their gazes locked onto me.

I shouldn't have known their names, but I did.

"We," said the brunette.

"—are tired of your messes," finished the other.

***

Mike chopped red peppers and olives. "What we didn't know was the bayou witches were looking to—"

The restaurant's front door dinged, and it was Penny. Blonde hair had greyed over the years, but she was as pretty as ever. Common sense and decades of friendship told her who was who. She hurried over, hugging Mike as if he were a long-lost brother and then me.

"Mary sent me over for a muffuletta sandwich. No rush." She turned to Kim, staring at his red mohawk. "Right, another one. You must be Kim?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Your Alpha's looking for you." She described his faded-blue jeans, flannel top, and how he was a big guy.

"Sounds like Jack."

"So," said Penny. "Where are you in the story?" She shrugged to Kim as if to say it's a small town and there's no secrets.

"Nightback Ridge," I said.

She grimaced.

"But after the Charles Manson-like nastiness," said Mike.

"Before your daughter?"

We each nodded slowly.

"You made the right choice. You know that right?" She wiggled her fingers. "Once in a while, when I touch y'all, I sense it." Her voice softened. "You did what any loving parent would do."

Mike swallowed. "Still doesn't feel like it sometimes."

***