The leaders shook hands again and then Gabriel and Patrick departed.
“Do you believe him?” Gabriel asked as they climbed onto the skimmer.
“I’m not sure. His emotions were a lot more volatile than his expressions. He seemed stressed.”
“He just took over as village alpha. Stress is unavoidable in situations like that.”
“I agree.” Patrick waited until the stronghold was barely visible in the distance before he elaborated. “He seemed genuinely interested in resolving the conflict with you. But his emotions spiked each time the conversation lagged. I don’t think his triggers have anything to do with us.”
Gabriel nodded thoughtfully as he gazed off into the distance. “Now all I have to do is convince my brother to back the hell off.”
“Give him a few days to calm down. You two will work it out. You always do.”
“I hope you’re right.” Gabriel looked at Patrick, then sighed and returned his gaze to the passing scenery. “Raphael and I survived seven years in hell then carved a home out of the wilderness. It will suck if this is the thing that finally tears us apart.”
CHAPTER 5
Heather unwound the strips of cloth from her feet and cringed at the grime now encrusting her ankles. Her homemade shoes had done an adequate job of warding off the cold, but dirt was clearly a different story. What she needed was knee-high, waterproof boots.
She glanced toward the bathroom debating her options. Should she make do with a sponge bath or strip down and take a shower? She’d already disregarded Patrick’s order to remain inside the cottage. Why not be clean and warm while she waited for her tormentor to return?
Seeing no advantage to remaining cold and dirty, she walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She had no idea where the water was coming from or how it was heated, but she was thrilled that the cottage had all the expected amenities. She’d spent enough time in the shelter outside the feline village to understand how miserable a primitive structure could be.
Twenty minutes later Heather emerged from the bathroom clean, dry, and dressed in an oversized shirt that covered her to mid-thigh. She quickly built a fire then sat in the living room andcombed out her damp hair. After working the thick mass into a braid, she gathered the dirty strips of cloth and fed them into the fire. The bottom edge of the blanket was soiled from being dragged through the forest, but the warmth it provided was much too valuable to burn. She scrubbed out the dirt in the sink and then draped the blanket over the shower enclosure to dry. With the most obvious evidence of her misbehavior gone, she decided to scrounge together a meal and maybe locate a book to occupy her time.
As she was rummaging through the cupboards, a strange hum erupted in the living room. She paused and listened closely, trying to identify the source of the annoying sound. The tone discontinued as quickly as it had begun, so she returned to her search for food.
With a plate full of finger snacks and a mystery novel, Heather walked into the living room. She sat down and opened the book. The sound erupted again, the tone longer and louder this time. Determined to locate the source, she set the book aside and hurried toward the sound. Something flickered in the corner to the left of the fireplace. It wavered like a holo-image that was malfunctioning.
“What the actual fuck,” she muttered as she snatched a stick from the bucket of kindling. With her gaze locked on the blinking, humming object, she poked at it with the stick. The wavering intensified as the wood contacted the small object, but the sound suddenly stopped.
It was clearly shielded, and just as obviously malfunctioning. Was this part of their security system? Should she just leave the thing alone? At least the feedback had stopped. She maneuvered the stick behind the mystery object and tried to shift it away from the wall. It slid easily, so she rushed into the kitchen andgrabbed a towel. Folding the towel in fourths so multiple layers of cloth separated her fingers from the unseen object, Heather finally picked it up.
She carried the intruder into the living room and opened the towel across her lap. The object flashed in and out of focus twice then became visible. The device had been punctured in three places, likely by teeth. It was shaped like a bug, but not any insect Heather had ever seen before. The outer shell was black, and it had six articulated legs. If a cricket had a baby with a black widow spider, it would look like this thing. But what the hell was it and how had it gotten inside the cottage? Well, how wasn’t all that surprising. There were no screens on any of the windows or doors.
Night had fallen by the time the males returned to the cottage. Heather vacillated between anxiety and anticipation. She wanted to try her new strategy, to submit willingly and see if it led to a better result than her previous behavior. And yet she worried that no matter what she did Patrick would remain angry and resentful. Clearly, escape was not an option, so her strategies needed to focus on minimizing his hostility.
Patrick entered first, his mahogany hair windblown, synth-leather jacket zipped up tight. Gabriel was right behind him, a large backpack slung over one shoulder. They had been gone for hours. Had they been in the tunnels the entire time?
She’d been held in the underground tunnels during her captivity with the wolves. No one was sure why the tunnels had been dug or who dug them, but everyone was eager to unravel the mystery.
“Did you miss us?” Patrick asked with a sardonic smirk. He unzipped his jacket and hung it on a hook near the door.
“Have you eaten anything since we left?” Gabriel asked as he lowered the backpack onto a chair. He removed his coat and draped it over the back of the same chair.
“I have no idea what most of it was, but I’ve been snacking off and on all day.” Heather pushed to her feet as she offered the admission. Both males were so much bigger than she was that standing made her feel less vulnerable. “I raided your library.” She motioned toward the stack of books on the small table beside her chair. “Where did they come from, by the way? There are no bookstores on Rydaria. Did someone sneak them into their luggage?”
“Everyone is allowed to use the molecular conversion unit for a personal item once each month,” Gabriel explained. “Books were a popular choice until someone realized that requesting a data pad gave him access to hundreds of books as well as entertainment vids and interactive games.”
“Very clever,” she admitted. “Will I be allowed to earn a data pad, or at least the privilege of using one?”
Gabriel nodded toward the backpack. “We already realized boredom will be a problem. There’s a data pad with limited functionality in that bag.”
“And what do I have to do to use it?”
Gabriel looked at Patrick as he said, “That’s up to your master.”
Not yet ready to face off with Patrick, she said, “I had an unexpected visitor while you were gone.” She smiled, hoping she hadn’t inadvertently screwed with their security system.
