Page 33 of Consumed
Maybe Trish sensed something too, because just before Con got up the nerve to say something, she stood and clapped her hands. “Gifts!” she announced.
As was customary, Con and Isaac went first, and with much success. Con silently congratulated himself on his ability to guess coyote shifter tastes. As far as he knew, the Bureau didn’t have any literature on the topic. When he got back, he’d check with Des. It could make an interesting research project for the future. Not just “what to give coyotes,” but maybe even a larger work on things that pleased various species. It would be a nice change from the usual books and pamphlets on how to kill things.
But that was for another time. Right now, Trish’s eyes were shining. “We have something really special for you boys. It took some doing to get it, but it was worth it.”
So probably not more jewelry then.
Bemused, Con and Isaac followed Trish around the back of the houses. The going was a little rough on Con due to the uneven terrain, and he kept a close eye on Isaac, but they made it okay. Most of the adult coyotes followed behind while the children continued their playing.
There were several sheds back here, along with pieces of what appeared to be rusty mining equipment. There were also some impressive piles of broken animal bones. Deer mostly, from what he could tell at a glance, but possibly others as well. All of the bones were stripped clean of meat and bleached by the sun. He wondered whether Isaac’s vegetarian parents would have been bothered by this, or whether they’d have understood that coyotes are hunters by nature. Sure, shifters could buy packaged meat at the grocery store, but without the actual hunt, they’d probably feel as if something fundamental was missing from their lives.
They’d feel as if they weren’t living as their authentic selves.
And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Individuals—of any species—should be free to live according to their own needs and desires as long as nobody else was harmed. Well, maybe the deer might like something to say about that. But Con had eaten a hamburger for lunch, so he figured he was in no position to judge anyone’s carnivorous appetites.
Trish led them to a shed that looked bigger and sturdier than the others, its back end built into the hillside and the three exposed walls supported by thick logs. The substantial metal door was secured with a heavy padlock. Con found that a tad concerning. He doubted that there was much risk of theft in this compound, so if the lock wasn’t intended to keep people out, then it meant it was to keep… something… in.
As Trish pulled out a set of keys and reached out to unlock the door, Con and Isaac exchanged a puzzled, slightly worried glance. Isaac appeared to want to keep his right hand near his hip, where his gun was holstered, but he grunted and stuck the hand into his pocket instead. Con simply gripped his new cane more tightly and wondered whether he should get one with a concealed sword. And then mused whether he could even wield a sword effectively.
Looking pleased, Trish pushed the door open. “Here ya go, boys. We caught it for you. You get to do whatever you want with it.”
It was dark inside. A familiar earthy smell wafted out, however, and Con gasped. And then, as if his legs had intentions of their own, they carried him over the threshold and stopped him just inside the shed.
Where there was an orc.
CHAPTER12
Isaac drewhis gun and shoved himself between Con and the orc. But then Con swore and pushed Isaac out of the way. The orc was clearly posing no danger to anyone at the moment.
It was restrained upright against a thick pillar, heavy chains trapping its arms against its body and keeping it from moving. Or, more accurately, keepinghimfrom moving; the orc was naked and had what were obviously male genitalia. He also had a lot of bite wounds and what looked like a nasty contusion on one side of the head. Nearly all of one pointed ear was gone, leaving not much more than a bloody stump. There was a thick gag in the orc’s mouth, but he made muffled grunting noises, and his yellow eyes were wide.
“We heard there were some of ’em near the Fort Apache Reservation.” Trish had entered the shed and stood facing the orc, her arms crossed and nose wrinkled in distaste. “Normally we wouldn’t go near ’em, but after what happened to you, well, we thought you might enjoy getting your hands on one. So I sent some of the pack out that way. I hear it was a good hunt. And here you go.”
Con felt very much as if he were going to be sick. That odor that had clung to the cave where he’d been captive, that had clung to his skin, now threatened to fill his nostrils. And Jesus Christ, those eyes. He would have likened them to a demon’s, except he’dseena demon’s eyes, and the orc’s were more alien. More terrifying.
Isaac’s voice was slightly ragged when he spoke. “What, um, what do you want us to do with him?”
She shrugged. “Totally up to you. He’s your gift. I made sure he wasn’t torn up too much in case you want to take your time with him.” She switched on a couple of battery-operated lanterns, probably mostly for their benefit. Coyotes saw well in the dark.
Con knew he should say something. Do something. But he was frozen in shock, even less mobile than he’d been in that cave ten years ago. He almost burst into tears when Isaac came to his aid.
“Trish, could you, uh, give us some time?”
She nodded. “Course. Take as much time as you want. I’ll be out on my porch when you need me. I like to nap right around now.” When she left, she closed the door.
Isaac stared at the orc for a moment, then at Con. He didn’t actually touch Con, for which Con was extremely grateful, but Isaac was visibly tense. “I, uh, think she meant well by this.”
“Yeah,” Con managed. From the standpoint of a coyote shifter, this was a thoughtful and generous gift. Once he pulled himself together, he was going to have to thank her appropriately. If he pulled himself together. That seemed questionable at the moment.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Isaac looked deeply concerned.
For some weird reason, the offer itself ratcheted down Con’s tension a few notches. It was really good to know someone had his back—someone who wouldn’t judge him. Con took a few deep breaths and felt his heart slow to a more reasonable pace. “Amnesty,” he whispered.
“Lay it on me, Con.”
“I don’t know what to do.” That was incredibly hard for him to admit out loud. He was the training guy, the spreadsheet guy, the guy with all the answers that nobody particularly wanted to hear.
“Well, I guess we could start with the regulations. What do they say about a situation like this?”
