Page 22 of Shift of Destiny
It was too late to think about going up the mountain, but the big rock might hide her in the dark. She pushed her way around it and past a low shrub, feeling with her foot rather than her vulnerable hands. Her shoe and pant leg might offer protection if she disturbed a sleeping snake. Shuddering at the thought, she pushed aside the tough branches of a shrub to squeeze in beside it, making herself as small as possible. The flashlight pushed on her kidney, and the zipper of her jeans dug into her skin. Fortunately, any noise she’d made was covered by the scrape of feet and grunts of effort from the two men.
If they went by her and into the cave, she could sneak down the mountain by following their path. She pulled her T-shirt over her knees, then ducked her head so her face and eyes wouldn’t be visible. She hoped her gray T-shirt made her huddled form look like a piece of the rock. She felt a stir of wind that left a coating of… something on her. Maybe it was her imagination, but she hoped it was her magic, hiding her.
She tracked them by sound and the occasional quick glance to check their progress. The stench of filthy, wet dog stung her sore nose, even through the congestion.
The man with the flashlight hesitated in front of the cave entrance that Richie pointed to. “You said she’s a witch. She’s not going to shrivel my nuts or anything, is she?”
“Hell, Chaffet, how could you tell the difference?” Richie laughed when the other man growled. “She’s no threat. Adam double-tranqued her with that gun he lifted from Witzer’s limo. She’s an ordinary human. She’ll be out for hours. Muzzle her when you get her in the van, though. She can make your ears bleed with her scream.”
Chaffet ducked and went in. Richie started to follow, then stopped and turned, his face tilted up like he was smelling something. He shook his head, then ducked inside.
She wished she knew how her magic worked, so she could trap them in the cave. She tried willing rocks above the entrance to slide, but they stayed stubbornly still. She didn’t have any more time to waste, so she slowly extricated herself from the branches.
She listened intently as she crab-walked quietly toward the gap in the rocky ledge, then oozed down, feeling with her feet. She flipped her mirror light briefly for a snapshot view of the trail, then flipped it over again and eased down the steep slope on her butt as far as she dared in the dark, then repeated the sequence. She hoped anyone below would assume the light was from Chaffet’s flashlight.
Come to think of it, she had her own flashlight, stuffed in her pants, but she preferred her mirror. Her magic. It sounded weird but felt true. God, she hoped she’d get to tell Chance he was right.
By the time she reached a flatter section of the slope, she shook with a combination of terror and fatigue. Her athletic shoes didn’t have the best traction, and she nearly slipped into a bed of sharp rocks and the painful-looking branches of a dead tree. Each sound made her jump, sure that another of Richie’s pals was waiting to grab her. She couldn’t leave their back trail, or she’d never find the road. It had been hard enough to follow their footprints over the sections of solid rock, but her mirror light helped by pulsing green when she pointed it the right direction.
Where she crouched, the ground was sandier, probably deposits from rain runoff. She occasionally heard water trickling somewhere as she’d made her descent. If flash floods had a season, she hoped it wasn’t early June.
An angry shout echoed off the rocks and peaks. No telling where it came from, but odds were good for above, near the cave. Her mirror light showed her the path to the wide slot between two tall rock outcroppings, but the second she took a step in that direction, the mirror pulsed red.
It pulsed green when she turned it to the right. She stifled the little voice that said she was imagining things. She didn’t care, as long as it kept her alive. A thicket of scrub oak loomed before her.
A scrape against branches was all the warning she had before a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled into a hard man’s body.
She bit, elbowed, and stomped, squirming to get away.
“Ow! It’s me!” whispered Chance in her ear, removing his hand from her mouth.
Her knees gave way with a flood of relief.
“I’ve got you.” His arms surrounded her for one long, blissful moment. “Sorry I scared you.”
As much as she wanted to sink into his solid warmth, they needed to leave. Crying into his shirt again could come later.
“Two men above.” She stood up straight and squared her shoulders. “They think I’m a witch. They want to kidnap me from the kidnappers.”
“Two men below, too. Are you okay?” He rubbed her arms up and down.
“Nothing a shower, an ice pack, and a couple of aspirin can’t fix. Any idea how to get out of here?”
“Yep.” He slid his hand into hers and tugged. She followed, comforted by the fact he seemed to have a plan. She noticed he wore a backpack, and felt a pang for hers.
The slope started to rise, and she couldn’t see a thing. She started to turn her mirror around, then hesitated. Chance could apparently see just fine, and she might ruin his night vision.
A wailing wolf call echoed off the rocks.
Chance turned and scooped her up into his arms and tight against his chest before she knew what was happening. “Hang on tight.” She grabbed for his neck as he began running swiftly up the slope.
In pitch black.
Like she weighed next to nothing.
Little pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. The man she wanted more than luxury chocolate was a shifter. A magical mix of man and animal. And he wasn’t the only one.
“I think the men up top might be, er, wolves. Shifters.”
