Shift
Page 63
“What about Brett?” I leaned forward with an elbow on each of the front seats. “Did you think of anywhere he might have stuck those feathers? Other than beneath his mattress?”
Jace hesitated, but I recognized an idea in the artful dart of his gaze from mine in the mirror. He wasn’t sure. In fact, he was so unsure he didn’t even want to mention it. But however small it was in his mind, his idea was the only one we had.
“Jace?” I prodded, and he looked at me reluctantly as our speed dropped back toward eighty.
“It’s not going to be there. We’ll waste hours hiking through the woods in the dark, uphill the whole way, freezing our asses off, and it won’t be there.”
“Where?” Marc asked, half a second before I would have said the same thing.
Jace sighed, still staring at the road. “There’s this old deer stand. It’s really just a platform and three wobbly rails for walls. If it’s even still standing. We weren’t supposed to go past the property line—the other side is public hunting ground—but that old deer stand was too much to pass up. Brett and I would raid the castle tower and storm the fort all weekend, by the time he was five or so.”
“Your mom let a five-year-old and a nine-year-old wander the woods alone?”
Jace shrugged. “She didn’t know. She was busy with the younger ones, and so long as we showed up again for dinner, she’d assume we were playing near the tree line. It seems stupid and dangerous now, but then…”
“Sounds like fun,” Marc said, and I smiled, pleased that the two of them could be civil when it really mattered.
“Yeah. It was.” Jace smiled distantly, as if he’d just then realized the truth in his statement. “There was an old wooden chest up there. We used it as an armory. Brett had a couple of toy pistols—you remember those pop guns?—and I had this plastic retractable knife.…” Jace’s voice faded again, and I spoke up to prompt him.
“And you think he might have hidden the feathers in there?”
“No.” Jace shook his head firmly. “I doubt the old stand is there anymore, and even if it is, Brett probably hasn’t thought about it in a decade.” The present tense did not escape my notice, and judging by the look Marc shot me, it hadn’t escaped his, either. “I know I haven’t. But it’s the only place I can think of.” He shook his head again. “It’s a total waste of time. It won’t be there.”
“It’s worth a try,” I insisted, and Marc nodded, though he seemed less convinced. “Especially considering it’s our only idea so far. And if the feathers are there, we won’t have to go anywhere near Malone or his men.”
“That’s a long shot, Faythe,” Jace said softly.
I shrugged. “This whole damn thing’s a long shot.”
Marc frowned and turned from me to Jace. “Can you find it?”
“If it’s still there, I can find it.”
An hour and a half later, I stood beside the Pathfinder, staring up at the tree-covered hill in front of me. It wasn’t as high or as sharp an incline as the Montana mountain where the Territorial Council had held my trial, but it would certainly be a workout compared to the relatively flat woodlands behind our ranch.
There was no sign of the sun at three-thirty in the morning, but dawn would come fast—I had no doubt of that—and we needed to be long gone before then.
“You ready?” Jace shut the driver’s side door behind me, and I nodded as Marc tossed his backpack over one shoulder. We’d stopped about an hour away from Malone’s property for bottled water and snack bars, and had no choice but to risk leaving our scents in the all-night gas station, hoping none of the local cats would stumble in at that hour.
“I still think you should Shift,” I said, frowning at Marc. “I won’t be much good like this if we run into a fight.” I held up my casted arm, still pissed that I couldn’t Shift. Heading up the side of a mountain in cat form sounded practically sporty. Half exercise, half game. But hiking up on two legs sounded like a huge pain in the ass.
“I’d rather keep you company.” Marc stepped closer, and the heat from his body felt wonderful in contrast to the bitter February chill, even more pronounced at the higher elevation. His head dipped and his lips found my neck just below the right side of my jaw.
I shivered from pleasure, rather than the early morning cold, and my arms wound around his back as his mouth trailed lower.
Then Jace’s footsteps crunched loudly on the loose gravel, and I sighed, pulling away from Marc reluctantly as he stiffened in irritation. “Besides,” he said, as Jace’s shirt hit the ground at his back. “You might need help. You can’t afford to fall on this.” He ran his fingers down the top of my cast, and for the millionth time, I wished I could feel his touch there.
Damn Kevin Mitchell for breaking my arm! But Kevin was already damned. Or dead, at least. Marc had made sure of that.
“Maybe I should just stay here. You guys could get there faster in cat form. I’ll just slow you down.”
“You can’t stay by yourself.…” Marc began, and when I frowned, Jace interrupted.
“You won’t slow us down.” He grinned and dropped his pants. And he wasn’t wearing underwear. “And I think we’d both enjoy your company.”
My face flamed, in both anger and embarrassment. What the hell was he doing?
Jace hesitated, but I recognized an idea in the artful dart of his gaze from mine in the mirror. He wasn’t sure. In fact, he was so unsure he didn’t even want to mention it. But however small it was in his mind, his idea was the only one we had.
“Jace?” I prodded, and he looked at me reluctantly as our speed dropped back toward eighty.
“It’s not going to be there. We’ll waste hours hiking through the woods in the dark, uphill the whole way, freezing our asses off, and it won’t be there.”
“Where?” Marc asked, half a second before I would have said the same thing.
Jace sighed, still staring at the road. “There’s this old deer stand. It’s really just a platform and three wobbly rails for walls. If it’s even still standing. We weren’t supposed to go past the property line—the other side is public hunting ground—but that old deer stand was too much to pass up. Brett and I would raid the castle tower and storm the fort all weekend, by the time he was five or so.”
“Your mom let a five-year-old and a nine-year-old wander the woods alone?”
Jace shrugged. “She didn’t know. She was busy with the younger ones, and so long as we showed up again for dinner, she’d assume we were playing near the tree line. It seems stupid and dangerous now, but then…”
“Sounds like fun,” Marc said, and I smiled, pleased that the two of them could be civil when it really mattered.
“Yeah. It was.” Jace smiled distantly, as if he’d just then realized the truth in his statement. “There was an old wooden chest up there. We used it as an armory. Brett had a couple of toy pistols—you remember those pop guns?—and I had this plastic retractable knife.…” Jace’s voice faded again, and I spoke up to prompt him.
“And you think he might have hidden the feathers in there?”
“No.” Jace shook his head firmly. “I doubt the old stand is there anymore, and even if it is, Brett probably hasn’t thought about it in a decade.” The present tense did not escape my notice, and judging by the look Marc shot me, it hadn’t escaped his, either. “I know I haven’t. But it’s the only place I can think of.” He shook his head again. “It’s a total waste of time. It won’t be there.”
“It’s worth a try,” I insisted, and Marc nodded, though he seemed less convinced. “Especially considering it’s our only idea so far. And if the feathers are there, we won’t have to go anywhere near Malone or his men.”
“That’s a long shot, Faythe,” Jace said softly.
I shrugged. “This whole damn thing’s a long shot.”
Marc frowned and turned from me to Jace. “Can you find it?”
“If it’s still there, I can find it.”
An hour and a half later, I stood beside the Pathfinder, staring up at the tree-covered hill in front of me. It wasn’t as high or as sharp an incline as the Montana mountain where the Territorial Council had held my trial, but it would certainly be a workout compared to the relatively flat woodlands behind our ranch.
There was no sign of the sun at three-thirty in the morning, but dawn would come fast—I had no doubt of that—and we needed to be long gone before then.
“You ready?” Jace shut the driver’s side door behind me, and I nodded as Marc tossed his backpack over one shoulder. We’d stopped about an hour away from Malone’s property for bottled water and snack bars, and had no choice but to risk leaving our scents in the all-night gas station, hoping none of the local cats would stumble in at that hour.
“I still think you should Shift,” I said, frowning at Marc. “I won’t be much good like this if we run into a fight.” I held up my casted arm, still pissed that I couldn’t Shift. Heading up the side of a mountain in cat form sounded practically sporty. Half exercise, half game. But hiking up on two legs sounded like a huge pain in the ass.
“I’d rather keep you company.” Marc stepped closer, and the heat from his body felt wonderful in contrast to the bitter February chill, even more pronounced at the higher elevation. His head dipped and his lips found my neck just below the right side of my jaw.
I shivered from pleasure, rather than the early morning cold, and my arms wound around his back as his mouth trailed lower.
Then Jace’s footsteps crunched loudly on the loose gravel, and I sighed, pulling away from Marc reluctantly as he stiffened in irritation. “Besides,” he said, as Jace’s shirt hit the ground at his back. “You might need help. You can’t afford to fall on this.” He ran his fingers down the top of my cast, and for the millionth time, I wished I could feel his touch there.
Damn Kevin Mitchell for breaking my arm! But Kevin was already damned. Or dead, at least. Marc had made sure of that.
“Maybe I should just stay here. You guys could get there faster in cat form. I’ll just slow you down.”
“You can’t stay by yourself.…” Marc began, and when I frowned, Jace interrupted.
“You won’t slow us down.” He grinned and dropped his pants. And he wasn’t wearing underwear. “And I think we’d both enjoy your company.”
My face flamed, in both anger and embarrassment. What the hell was he doing?
