“I know he showed up at the bar after I got tired of his pacing, and I know it was after hours. I just wanted to thank you for your patience with him. He’s…reactionary. I mean, I can’t say either of us is dealing very well with losing Yvette, if I’m being honest, but he tends to act first and think later, and I’ve never been able to pull him past that impulse. But whatever you said to him last night…well, he’s clearly willing to listen to you.” Austin shrugged. “He listened to Yvie too—they were really good for each other—but without her here to balance him out, he’s sort of…well, he’s been difficult.”
“He’s certainly…aggressive,” I agreed, choosing my words carefully. “But sometimes controlled aggression is…useful.” I cleared my throat, fighting to maintain the steady beat of my pulse. “We all grieve in our own way. We all deal with trauma in our own way. Just…please just try to keep that in mind.”
“I do.” Austin inhaled, and his gaze seemed to intensify. “He and I want the same thing. We just go about it differently. Which you’ve obviously noticed.”
“Justice,” I said, on a release of the breath I’d been holding. “You both want justice for Yvette.” That’s all he was talking about. He had no idea that Bishop and I had discovered a rather effective form of mutual therapy. And he wasnotsaying he wanted the same thing.
“Yes, but…you have something good going on out here. This community is more isolated than I thought I’d want, but I’m finding that I like it. Murder investigation aside. I can’t speak for Bishop, but I’m considering staying. If you’ll have me.”
“Yes, of course. I’d love to have you both.”
Good god. What had I just said?
I felt like we were having two conversations at once, and I couldn’t tell whether he meant for that to be the case. Whether or not he was aware of the double entendre in nearly every word we’d both spoken.
“I mean, you’d both—each of you—be an asset to the northern zone. If you feel like sticking around, once we get all this…sorted out.”
Austin nodded, his blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Thanks. It’s good to know we might actually belong somewhere. It’s kind of felt like we were floating out there all alone, after Yvette…”
“I can imagine.” I shivered, and Austin frowned.
“You’re freezing. Sorry. I’ve kept you standing here…naked.” His gaze started to drop, but then it popped back up as he arrested the impulse. I couldn’t resist a small smile.
The manwashuman.
“Yes, we should get going.” I shoved the rest of my clothes into the bag, then I headed into the woods, where I knelt in a bed of moss and leaves. Despite the pain of each stretch and pop, despite the vicious itch of fur sprouting over every inch of my skin, I was acutely aware of Austin dropping to the ground on my right. I heard every grunt and moan of pain, and I internalized them, letting the swiftness of his shift spur on my own.
A solitary run is nice, but there’s nothing like racing through the woods with someone.
I beat him into cat form, but just barely. When I stood, I spared a moment to stretch my new formation of muscles and tendons. Then I huffed playfully at him, choosing to see the joy in this moment, rather than the dark nature of our mission.
For a moment, anyway.
As he finally stood, strong and lithe on four powerful legs, I took off into the woods at a bound, leaping over brush and racing around trees. I leapt a small stream, and as I was airborne, enjoying the ripple of the breeze over my fur, I heard him right behind me, huffing with each deep, efficient breath.
His paws hit the ground a second after mine, and I forced another burst of speed from my legs, digging into the ground when it seemed to slide around beneath me. Launching myself off logs and trunks, when that seemed more fun than simply running.
I should have been exhausted. I’d already run once, just hours before. But there was something about running with a partner that kept my adrenaline flowing. My heart pumping. And when I was truly focused, Austin, for all his stealth and power, was no match for my speed.
I beat him to the edge of the woods by a full body-length.
He pulled up short next to me, huffing, and I swear I could hear amusement in each short little pant. I could see it in the gleam of his round, greenish cat eyes. He’d enjoyed that just as much as I had.
“Glad you both had some fun,” Vance said, appearing from around the corner of Eamon’s old single-wide. The fact that he wasn’t whispering set off my internal alarm. “And I hope you’ve got more in you, because we missed him. The bed’s still warm, though, so I’m guessing Billy left less than ten minutes ago. Paw prints on the back porch say he went out in cat form. And that’s not all I found.”
SIXTEEN
In human form again, Austin lifted the glass pipe—the shape and color of a pickle with a little green human face—from a dent carved into Eamon’s wooden back porch rail. In the bowl of the pipe lay the charred remains of a weed roach.
He shrugged. “Waste not, want not. That’s what my grandmother always said.”
“Somehow, I doubt she was talking about pot,” Vance said.
Austin snorted. “Clearly you never met my Nana.”
“So, Billy’s high,” I said as Austin returned the pipe to its spot on the railing. “And on a run, in cat form. At five-thirty in the morning.”
Vance nodded. “Insomnia does strange things.”
