I’d love to stop and let you have a little snack, but right now, things are just a bit urgent,Trent thought, hoping somehow Quicksilver might understand what he was thinking. Right now, the Queen of Denmark could have been sitting on his shoulder, and Trent wouldn’t have stopped the excavator to pay his proper respects.
It wasn’t until his kangaroo suddenly whipped its head around, ears trained, whiskers twitching, that Trentdidactually stop the excavator, as a cold shiver ran suddenly down the full length of his spine.
Someone’s behind me.
He knew it with complete certainty: while he’d been distracted trying to break through the rubble to get to Zina, someone had moved up behind him, probably coming from the forking passage he and Zina had seen earlier. They’d clearly been lying in wait for him and Zina to be separated, and now they’d made their move.
Putting the excavator down on the ground gently – he’d need it, after all, once he’d dealt with whoever was trying to keep him from his mate – Trent turned, and found himself looking at a dark, hulking silhouette, just barely visible in the darkness.
The Bloodhound.
Trent had only seen him the once, and that had been at a distance, as the man had stuck his head out of the motel window when he’d last hunted them down. The shape of him was unmistakable, though: tall, broad, bull-necked, pure muscle.
He’d be hard to beat as a human, and perhaps even more so in his shifted form, whatever it turned out to be.
Not to mention, shifting probably isn’t a great idea for me right now…
He was already eight feet tall as a giant kangaroo. If he tried to bounce, he’d smack his head on the ceiling and knock himself out.
So whatever I do, I better do it quickly.
The Bloodhound didn’t say anything – he clearly wasn’t the kind of villain who was given to long speeches explaining themselves and what they were doing, Trent thought. The man in front of him simply cracked his neck, the movement long and slow, before his hands clenched into fists by his side.
“Hand over the creature.”
His voice was as rough as sandpaper, deep and threatening. He clearly wasn’t here to fuck around, thought Trent.
“Hm. No, I don’t think I will,” Trent said, moving into a fighting stance himself. He felt Quicksilver’s tiny claws prickling against his skin once more as the little basilisk scampered down from his shoulder, climbing back into his backpack.
Probably the safest place for you right now, little fella,Trent thought as he raised his fists.
“I can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” the Bloodhound said, voice still gravelly, and Trent justhadto roll his eyes.
“Oh, please,” he said. “If you’re going to talk, can you at least come up with an original line? It’s alwaysthe hard way or the easy way.Did you guys all read the same training manual or something?”
The Bloodhound said nothing, though Trentsworehe saw his fists clench a little tighter.
“Hand it over,” he repeated. “I won’t ask again. I’ve got your scent now – there’s nowhere you can run. I can track you anywhere.”
He might have strength… and depending on what he turns into he might be able to use his shifter form… and he’s blocking the exit right now… but I have speed, and I have the fact I need to protect my mate right now,Trent thought, eyes darting to the tunnel to the left of the Bloodhound. Was it possible all these tunnels might join up somewhere? Would he be able to find his way back to Zina that way?
The mated bond can guide us,the kangaroo said, tense and on edge.We can find her. We simply have to follow our senses.
Good advice,Trent thought. He hoped it was true, and not just something his kangaroo had made up because it’d gotten over-confident about its own abilities – that happened sometimes.
Trent glanced up. The ceilings in here were pretty high, or higher than they had been at the start of the tunnel. Measuring it by sight, Trentguessedhe might be able to shift in here, provided he didn’t try to jump. Quietly and quickly, he slipped off his backpack, setting it gently down to the stone floor of the shaft. He knew Quicksilver was inside, but if he messed this up, he suspected he wouldn’t get a second chance anyway.
I might be able to get a shot at him.…
“Well, that’s good to know,” he said, trying to goad the Bloodhound. If he could get him mad enough, maybe he’d charge him in a rage, which would give Trent the opening he was hoping for. “Shouldn’t Hargreaves keep its dogs on a leash, though? I can’t tell you how many council guidelines you’re breaking right now. It’s no dogs off leash here. Have a little respect.”
The Bloodhound grunted, his massive shoulders bunching.
“It’s a delicate ecosystem out there,” Trent continued. “Do you even have a permit for… well, yourself, I guess?”
The Bloodhound lowered his head, like a bull about to charge.
“Or is there some kind of exemption for –”
