Shifters' Storm Part 23

Someone had shot at Songan. Twice.

The shooter had missed; he had to have! Otherwise she would have known, right? With Songan wounded or dead, the shooter would have come after her, right?

Picking up her rifle again, she went to the door and cautiously opened it. Just like the five or six times she'd already done this, she saw nothing. Much as she needed to call out to Songan, she didn't, because he'd told her he'd bugle once he'd accomplished his mission.

If he was alive.

Moaning, she closed the door and leaned on it for support. Try as she did to silence the sound, she kept hearing the horrid rifle shots.

"Be safe, Songan, please."

Not just Songan, but Ber too.

The bear shifter hadn't said anything about his intentions while he was stripping off his clothes in preparation for becoming an animal. She guessed he'd been determined to spare her the details. Either that or he'd wanted to downplay the danger. Had she begged him to be careful, told him how vital he'd become to her in the short time they'd known each other?

What had her final words been to Songan?

Her mind flashed to her mother. Not for the first time, she asked herself if her mother's murder was connected to what was happening today. Could it be otherwise?

Moaning, she returned to the blanketed opening and peered out. The two men who'd become her world were out in the wilderness trying to hunt down a pair of would-be killers. In contrast to their courage, here she sat inside a bullet-ridden cabin with nothing better to do than keep it warm.

Was the heat only for herself, or would it welcome Ber and Songan when they returned?

When, not if.

Songan wasn't sure why he was heading in the direction he was. All he knew was that this was what he was supposed to be doing. He vaguely recalled he'd come across tracks set down by both a man and a ma.s.sive bear. When the two sets of prints separated, he'd followed the bear's. The bear needed him. The human could wait.

His head had stopped ringing, and his memory of being shot was fading. In contrast, the image of how the human who'd tried to kill him had looked curled up with snow blanketing him remained clear. As he tracked, he tried to imagine what, if anything, the human was doing now.

He'd hurt the would-be killer but didn't know how badly. If the human could get to his feet, he might be on the move. With his rifle useless and the temperature dropping, his primary concern had to be for his safety.

How does it feel? Does helplessness terrify you?

Surprise at his ability to relate to the man slowed Songan. He pondered returning so he could watch the struggle, but before he could make the decision, a wave of emotion distracted him.

Ber. Needing him.

So far he'd been holding to a measured pace to insure he wouldn't lose sight of the fading tracks, but with Ber's emotions now driving him, he trusted the unspoken communication to guide him to Rane's other lover. The poor visibility and terrain prevented him from running at full speed, and he had to keep an eye on his surroundings to insure he'd continue avoiding the trees.

He tried to comprehend why Ber had stopped stalking the human, but nothing made sense. He had no choice but to wait for the bear shifter to explain himself. The storm blunted the usual sounds, smells and sights, compelling him to trust that he was doing the right thing. He gave a half thought to what might happen if his trust was misguided. Maybe Rane wanted more of him than he'd been able to give her.

Certainly she deserved larger chunks of him. But the forest and his place in it exacted their own demands.

He could only be what he was and hope she understood.

Fewer trees grew here than where he'd been when he first heard Ber's thoughts. He vaguely recognized it as a place the elk avoided because there wasn't enough to graze on. The rocks and boulders forced him to slow even more, and the openness made him feel exposed and vulnerable. Just the same, his conviction that Ber was nearby kept him going.

A rock rolled under a hind hoof, causing him to stumble. He regained his balance, and when something large and dark separated itself from the white world he realized it was Ber standing motionless high on a rocky slope. Studying the grizzly shifter, Songan wondered at his ability to recognize Ber. His mind suddenly felt clear and sharp.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

Looking old, Ber swung his bulk toward him. "They're dead!"

"Who's dead?"

135.

"A mother bear and her babies."

Death was part of the wilderness. An animal might mourn the loss of another of its kind, but grief didn't last long. He didn't tell Ber that, because the bear shifter hadn't told him about a sow and cubs. His emotions went far deeper.

"Where?" he asked.

Ber nodded at an opening in the slope Songan hadn't noticed. "In there."

"How did you find them?"

Still looking as if he was barely aware of his surroundings, Ber shook his head. "The death smell." Songan inhaled deeply. Yes, there it was. Old. Sad. But the faded death stench wasn't the only thing that caught his attention.

"I smell humans," he told Ber. "Not recent."

Looking puzzled, Ber lifted his head. After a moment, his nostrils flared. "Why didn't I notice that before?"

"Because the other was more important," Songan ventured.

"It was. It still is. I hate-the three have been dead a long time. The babies are so small-I think their bodies have been in there since spring."

"Scavengers haven't gotten to them?"

"No. The bodies are well preserved."

Even without looking into the cave, Songan knew what he'd find. "They died together."

"Not died; killed. Shot and gutted."

The mind conversation with Ber was straining his ability to think, and his headache was returning.

"Maybe that's the other thing we're smelling," he told the bear who'd become his companion. "The lingering stench of whoever killed them."

"No, it isn't old enough."

The scents were so faint Songan had to clear his mind before he could concentrate. Experience and instinct told him Ber was right.

"Three humans," Ber explained when they stood only a few feet apart with falling snow a gauzy curtain between them. "Two men. And a woman."

Now that Ber had pointed that out to him, Songan set himself to learning even more. One of the men's smell was similar if not identical to the stench of the one he'd attacked. Eyes closed so he could better concentrate, he struggled to make sense of what of herself the woman had left behind. The men-scent was a mix of sweat and other bodily aromas. In contrast, one thing dominated the woman's.

Blood.

Fully alert, he circled the area until he came to the spot where the blood scent was strongest. After waiting for Ber to join him, he touched his nose to the ground and inhaled.

136.

"Jacki," he told Ber .

"No doubt?"

Not breathing, Songan stared into bear eyes. "None."

Feeling too large for his bruin body, Ber retraced his steps. Most of the time, the ma.s.sive elk walked beside him, but when the trail became too narrow, the elk slowed so he could go first.

Ber's mind pulsed as he struggled to process everything, but no matter how many times he came close to acknowledging what the various smells had told him, images of the three murdered and mutilated bears rushed to the forefront.

Revenge meant nothing to bears, but he was more than an animal, and the human in him wanted only one thing.

"What happened to the second man," he asked Songan. "Did you find him? Kill him?" Songan didn't reply, prompting Ber to stop and look over his shoulder. Something had changed about the elk, a dullness in his eyes that hadn't been there when they were near the cave and examining the telling scents.

"What is it?" he demanded. "What are you thinking?" Head tilted to the side a little, Songan returned his gaze, but there was no comprehension.

"Songan, it's me, Ber. Do you know what I'm saying?"

Nothing. No hint the elk understood a word.

"What about Rane," Ber pressed. "Do you remember her? You f.u.c.ked her today. So did I." Something briefly flashed in Songan's eyes. Studying the elk with the largest rack he'd ever seen, he accepted the undeniable. When they were standing where Rane's mother had shed her blood, Songan's intelligence had equaled his. The effort must have taxed what little of Songan's human mind remained. He no longer thought. He'd again become pure animal.

In a way, Ber envied the other shifter.

Following the scents leading away from where he was certain Jacki had been killed should have settled him. Always before, he'd found a sense of peace in instinctive acts, but everything had changed. He didn't fully understand the rage that threatened to strip caution from him and could barely control it. Some of his fury came from the carnage inside the cave; the rest revolved around what he'd have to tell Rane.

Slowing, he struggled to form the necessary words to tell Rane what he and Songan had discovered.

One thing he knew. He couldn't simply lay out the details. Rane deserved more.

So did the dead mother bear and her children.

Ber picked up his pace. Behind him, Songan did the same. Even with everything he was trying to process, he almost laughed at the thought of how they looked. A bear and an elk, no longer wary adversaries or enemies but united.

137.

By the woman they shared.

Memories of how Rane's body felt against him lifted his c.o.c.k. Instead of a.s.suring himself that he was still following the faint blood trail, he drew one image after another from deep inside.

Rane, standing naked between Songan and him. Rane on her back on the too-small bed with her legs open and heat welcoming him. Rane taking his length and breadth into her core. Screaming her climax.

Something squeezed his heart. Forcefully casting aside what had given him his erection, he again dragged his nose over the snow dusting until the scents spoke to him. Once more single-minded and with his erection dying, he picked up his pace. The snow flattened under his paws. Behind him, the elk shifter's sharp hooves did even more damage.

He knew one thing. Several weeks ago, two men had taken turns dragging and sometimes carrying Jacki's body toward Wolverine. Only one reason for the effort made sense. The killers hadn't wanted her to be found near the cave.

138.

Chapter Twenty-One.

The camouflaged man trudged with his rifle slung over one stooped shoulder. His head was so low it looked as if his chin might strike his chest, and Ber concluded that his legs were in danger of giving out.

When he'd followed him earlier, the man had moved at an impressive pace. No longer.

What did he care! This creature had savagely murdered three innocent bears.

That wasn't the only thing the b.a.s.t.a.r.d had done.

Despite his winter jacket, the storm that meant nothing to the shifters attacked the killer. Snow covered his shoulders and the top of his head, and Ber detected a shiver. Fighting the rage that showed no sign of abating, Ber pondered why the man was heading down-mountain. He and his companion had tried to kill Rane, Songan and him. Not only hadn't he fulfilled his mission, he apparently cared nothing for his companion's life.

A coward. Running away.

The babies, still and dead, cuddled against their equally dead mother's body. All three destroyed to feed a monster's or monsters' greed.

Rane's mother. Murdered maybe because she'd discovered the carnage. Deliberately silenced. Her body dragged away from the cave and then discarded.

Leaving Rane to mourn.

Blood pulsed in Ber's forehead. His world turned red. He heard only one word.

Revenge.

Rising onto his hind legs, he roared.

Silent and open-mouthed, the man whirled toward the animal sound. Yanking his rifle off his shoulder, he fired without first taking aim.

"Stop him!"

Propelled by Songan's command, Ber dropped onto four legs and charged. He struck the man in the chest, knocking him off his feet and landing on top of him. Looking down, Ber found himself face to face with terror-filled eyes.

"Oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d!" the man babbled.

The stench of loosened bowels filled the air. Instead of closing his jaws around the man's head as instinct commanded, however, Ber studied his captive. The collision had knocked the rifle out of his hands and sent it skidding across the snow. Out of the corner of his eye, Ber saw Songan step on the rifle.

"Oh G.o.d, please G.o.d!"

Maybe, in their own way, the mother bear and her babies had begged to be allowed to live. If they had, their pleas hadn't been heeded. The same might have happened to Jacki.

"Kill him. Make him pay."