Page 88 of Trusted Instinct
She’d thought about how her brothers would shuffle their feet across the carpet at church and then reach out and zap her. She remembered how that was fun, but the zap she got sitting on the stool was not. With a zing, Auralia popped her eyes open and exclaimed, “Ow!”
Miss Cinnamon was sitting on the ground, nowhere near her.
She opened her lashes, too, and stared into Auralia’s eyes for a good long time, then nodded. “That should do it, child. You sit still while I open the circle back up. Lord. Lord. I heard that you had a visit from PittyPat and that she said you had the gift. That’s not how we use it, so I sealed you good. No one’s gonna come hant you. Not in this lifetime. Miss PittyPat taught me herself. So I’m good at what I do.”
Auralia had known that. That’s why she’d hightailed her way over there to begin with.
When she got home, her mamma asked, “Did Miss Cinnamon take care of it?”
“I’m sealed tight,” Auralia announced.
And that was the end of it.
But that wasn’t the end of this.
Shane was hurt, possibly dying.
If he did die, Auralia was sealed tight; he wouldn’t hant her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Creed
Honey had shown up just as Auralia circled behind the boulder.
Together, they were assessing the situation when Creed’s phone pinged with Rue’s collar connecting.Auralia.
When Auralia took off, it had been a pragmatic decision, and, in theory, the plan had made sense.
In his gut, Creed knew it was the wrong way to go about things. His instincts told him that there were unforeseen dangers. But what could he say out loud?
Auralia was correct. Something was terribly wrong with Brandy, whether she was in shock, bleeding internally, or any of a list of things that could be going wrong for her. Whatever it was, Brandy could easily and quickly die under these circumstances.
Sheelah, yeah, Creed thought Sheelah was fading. He expected death rattle breathing soon, or a sudden miraculous coming around, a last look around before walking toward the light.
Auralia wasn’t hurt, other than being red-faced from the abrasive fabric of the airbag.
She was as capable as he was in this environment. She was a good tracker. She was fit. She was used to Rou and had been part of staged search missions, so Auralia could easily track Brandy’s trail even if conditions for scent trailing weren’t prime.
Still playing through his mind from this morning’s rescue of Jeb: Six inches of muddy water was all it took to move a car. It was more than enough to sweep up a woman. Or two.
If they were good Samaritans as their families had taught them to be—or just humans with hearts beating in their chests—then these accident victims needed their care.
But still, Creed’s gut told him it should have been inverted. Auralia would have done better and been safer here with Sheelah, and he should have been off on the hunt.
And now, he had proof.
Rou’s collar pinged just as Gator came leaping down the slope like his hair was on fire. “Where the hell is she, Creed?”
The three gathered around the video feed and watched.
Gator had his phone out. “Jeff. We have a situation.” He looked up, “Creed, who’s your support?”
“Mandy.”
“Jeff, loop in Mandy to get the exact location of Cerberus Team Charlie K9 Rougarou.”
Over the speaker, they could hear Jeff. “Rougarou is up on our board. I’m texting you her GPS coordinates and loading them to your shirts. We’re updating Commander Striker Rheas. Given the AI data, we have advised police officials on the north side of the bridge.”
