“I don’t know what to believe. I teach my children well. I have taught them to shift before they are injured. If you pushed me from a falling window, I would shift before my feet hit the ground. Our animals are less frail. I will never know. They found him on the stairs in the morning, and I cannot imagine how long he must have lain there. I have the power to force him to shift—I could have saved him if he’d still been alive. Even if I couldn’t, I could have held him in my arms. But that was not the will of the fates.”
A black feeling enveloped Blue, one she tried to suppress.
Niko touched her arm. He must have noticed her light change.
Having lost her appetite, Blue lifted her glass and cleansed her palate. “Was he himself that day? Did anything about his mood or behavior seem off? Maybe he wasn’t feeling well, and that’s why he lost his balance.” She avoided allusion to the possibility of a virus.
“I should remember all those last moments,” Sambah admitted, “but I don’t. They are gone from me. I remember him as we gathered for breakfast the previous morning. He was giving my brother an ulcer. We often joked that King could talk a ghost out of his grave.” Sambah reached for the plate. “My son was an insistent man. He got his way many times because I couldn’t win a debate with him.”
Niko chuckled, and that pleased Sambah.
“I could tell many stories,” he continued. “The living are memory keepers of the dead. It honors their spirit to remember them, but more importantly, those stories inspire younger generations. I’m afraid I have no conspiracy to report to the higher authority if that’s what they’re looking for. No murder under my roof. No cover-up. Just a tragic accident.”
Blue stood. “I’m sorry if we wasted your time.”
“Not at all.” After eating what was in his hand, he rose to his feet and rounded the table to escort them inside. “It is not often we get visitors from the outside—especially falcons. If you don’t mind my saying so, most of your kind avoid us.”
Blue gave him a sideways glance. “Maybe it’s because some of you consider us dinner.”
“That was many centuries ago. Food is plentiful now.” He stopped and turned to face her. “I promise not to eat you if you visit again.” Then he directed his gaze to Niko. “May I steal a minute alone with your partner?”
Blue patted Niko’s shoulder. “The door is about seven steps ahead and it automatically opens. I’ll be right in.”
Niko bowed. “Thank you for inviting us into your home, Mr. Freeman. It was a pleasure being your guest.”
When he left, Sambah folded his arms. “I have many questions about your friend.”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“Because it is not he who intrigues me.”
Blue tucked her hands in her pants pockets as the wind blew her shirt collar to the side. “I’m not available.”
Sambah tossed back his head and laughed. “I am not a collector of mistresses. There is only one woman who has my heart.”
Confused, she frowned. “Then what is it?”
“Where are your people? Where is your tribe? Why do you walk alone?”
“I’m not alone. I have Niko.”
“But he is not one of us.”
“No, but I chose my family. Not everyone is born to live in a big house and knit all day.”
He squinted and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re not foolish enough to believe the women in my house are subservient, are you? We are evolved from the way our ancestors ran a home.”
“Not everyone is as progressive as you are.”
He gave a short nod as if she had answered a question. That annoyed Blue—it irritated her when people felt entitled to her privacy.
“This is not a ruse, is it?” he asked, making her suddenly nervous. “Over the years, I’ve amassed a fortune. I know some envious immortals who would like nothing more than to disband my pride so they can make themselves rich.”
“I promise that’s not what this is about. I wouldneverbe a part of something like that.”
Sambah turned toward the setting sun, which Blue could see in the reflection of the tall windows. “In my homeland, there wasn’t always peace. We battled for land among other Shifters. Sometimes lions, other times hyenas or leopards. All warriors carried scars they chose not to heal. Scarification was practiced among human tribes, but with Shifters, those marks held a different meaning. They weren’t just symbols of courage but also of beauty. We call those marks fingerprints of the gods. We are not born warriors—we are chosen.”
Blue realized her shirt had moved away from her shoulder, revealing some of the nasty scar that ran beneath her tank top. There was no point in buttoning up.
