“When was this?”
After a too-long pause, he said, “Nineteen oh two.”
“I saw something white running in the pasture before I found Adrian’s Hell dead. At first I thought it was a white-headed human. Then I decided it was a white-tailed deer.”
“But now you question that conclusion?”
“Yes. Now I don’t know what to think.”
“I will shift to a St. Bernard and see if I can catch the scent of a human.”
“Why a St. Bernard? A bloodhound would have a better sense of smell.”
My eyes had fully adjusted to the night and I saw the flash of teeth as FireWind smiled. Amusement lightened his voice when he said, “Because of Einstein.”
“What?” I asked, startled.
“The equationEequalsmcsquared was suggested by that scientist. It is an equation that suggests energy and mass are interchangeable with each other, and it seems to explain skinwalker magic. The most I have ever weighed in my long life is two hundred and fifteen pounds. Therefore, I need an animal that is two hundred pounds and more in weight to shift into, but not greatly more or greatly less.” He opened several packs of stinky commercial jerky and dropped them on the ground. “Keep watch for a few minutes while I shift and then go into the house while I work.”
FireWind, my skinwalker boss, took off his shirt, folded it, and placed it on the car hood. He slipped off his shoes. Belatedly I realized he was stripping in order to change shape. There wasn’t time to drive away, so I quickly turned my back and closed my eyes. I heard the softshushof cloth on skin and the swishing of grasses, but I didn’t open my eyes until long after I heard FireWind walk into the pasture. I glanced at the pile of clothes and FireWind’s shoes on the hood of my car.Oh yes. Naked.
I might be in love with a were-creature, and he and the other local weres might strip and change shape on my land three nights a month, but I had never watched. Naked human bodies were not something I ever watched.
“Yes,” I whispered to myself. “I am a prude, through and through.”
I texted the others that FireWind was shifting to search for a possible intruder and that we were both safe. From the grass came odd sounds, cracking and snapping, and then silence that went on too long. About ten minutes later, a St. Bernard dog trotted out of the pasture, a bone in his teeth. He rose up on his hind legs, dropped the bone, and nosed an empty one-day gobag near his clothes and shoes. He looked me, at the bag and clothes, and back at me.
“You want me to pack the bone and your clothes into the bag?”
The big dog gave a slow nod and dropped to all fours, gobbling up the jerky without chewing.
“You coulda put your clothes in it yourself, you know.” He didn’t respond, just kept eating jerky. I tucked the shoes into an expandable pouch on the side. Careful not to touch his undies, and feeling silly about my reactions, I packed the clothes into the bag, on top of a collection of bones, teeth, and what looked like animal claws inside, each with a drilled hole inserted with a steel ring for hanging on a necklace.The big boss carries around a stack of animal bones in his gobag.
Of course he does. He’s a skinwalker. Right.I put the bone he had carried in his teeth on top of the clothes.
FireWind looked at the house and back to me. He clearly expected me to follow his orders and go to the house.
I held up the bag. “Leave this here or at the house?”
He looked at the passenger seat of my car. And back to me. I placed the bag on the seat. “I’ll leave the door unlocked,” I said. The big dog nodded at me, trotted into the pasture with a swish of grasses, and vanished.
Shaking my head at all the strange things that were stomping around in my brain, I got in the car and drove to the house. As ordered, I left the car unlocked and the gobag on the passenger seat. Occam was standing at the side door of the barn, haloed in the security light, watching me, a grindylow on his shoulder. I hadn’t seen any of the cute neon green killers since we arrived and I had put the absence down to the were-creature judges and executioners being with Rick LaFleur and Margot Racer in Chattanooga. The black wereleopards were young weres andthe ones most likely to make a mistake and spread the were-taint. And need to be killed. I had to wonder why one had returned here, but Occam didn’t seem upset by its presence, one hand stroking along its back and tail as if it were a cat.
As I walked toward Occam, he smiled. A sense of utter well-being fluttered through me as if a thousand butterflies had just taken flight. I followed him inside and slid into his arms, my head on his chest.
“Nell, sugar. I’ve missed you like a fish misses water.” He breathed in my scent and I scrubbed my fist along his jaw.
“I’ve missed you too, cat-man.”
The grindylow leaped away and up, into the rafters of the barn. There was a cat up there already, a gray-striped, green-eyed cat. Behind it were more cats. I tilted my head, my face scraping against Occam’s work shirt, and counted four. I sighed happily. I hadn’t seen cats until now and I had wondered why. Except that cats had a strong sense of self-preservation. It was likely they had smelleddeath and decayand taken off. It was the same reason there had been few flies. The smell had been evil mixed with rot. Not good to eat; not a good place to lay eggs. But I wondered why the cats weren’t melting. Perhaps the same reason Occam couldn’t feel thedeath and decay?
The cats accepted the grindy, or perhaps ignored it was the better term. Cats were always welcome at a barn, even the most feral. Most barn owners set traps, got the cats spayed or neutered, gave them shots, and put out dry food in return for the cats keeping pests out of the grain and feed.
Occam propped his chin on my head. “You gonna tell me what happened between you and FireWind out there in the dark?”
I smiled against his shirt, the buttons pressing into my cheek. “You ain’t jealous, are you?”
“Jealous of tall, dark, and deadly? Not any more than I am of anyone who gets to spend time with you. Heck, woman, I’m jealous of your cats, your sister, and your family. I’m jealous of every moment that takes you away from me. And if that sounds a little too much possessive and old-school toxic masculinity, well, I do apologize for saying it.”
