Raptor's Peak: Switch of Fate 4 Read online

  For only the second time, Auntie met Dakota’s eye. Then all at once the old woman clucked her tongue and started to laugh, really belly laugh, as if Dakota had told her the funniest joke ever.

  Aven opened the door then, juggling two cups of coffee and a bottle of water. “You ladies causing trouble?”

  Auntie stopped laughing, going blank again, abruptly.

  Dakota couldn’t even answer Aven. She could only stare at Auntie, and wonder what that had been about.

  Chapter 16 - Ruffled Feathers

  Aven spent the morning trying not to stare at the new, softer, sweeter Dakota as they sat with Auntie and waited for the hearing to progress. The court officer called for Auntie, but brought her back soon after. Ten minutes after that they were done.

  Auntie took Aven’s arm as they exited the little room, and he let her. Dakota took the keys from his other hand. “I’ll bring the car around.” She sped up the hallway and out the front door of the courthouse.

  Aven walked outside with Auntie, Jameson, and Cora to the bottom of the courthouse steps. All three wore smiles, but he felt sadness from Cora and Jameson. Auntie had to go back to the nursing home until the judge made her ruling, hopefully in their favor. The nurse who was blocking their petition for Power of Attorney - Jameson called her Serena - stood at the top of the stairs, out of the wind, stabbing at her phone with blood-red fingernails.

  Jameson stopped him. “Everything good in the forest?”

  Hell. Aven hadn’t done a flyover since the day before yesterday. “Last I checked,” he hedged.

  Jameson squinted at him, but his attention was torn when a voice across the street called out, “Cora!”

  A man jogged toward them, a smile on his lean, handsome face. If Aven had been looking at a photo of this guy, he would’ve guessed he was a model. Or a vampire, if only because of his build and his fashion sense. But Cora wasn’t killing him, so he was not one.

  His hair was short on the sides and slightly longer on top, professional but not stuffy, light brown, swept to one side over symmetrical features. His eyes were gray, set off by the charcoal sport coat he wore over black slacks and a pale yellow button-down shirt. He had a pocket square and expensive-looking leather shoes, but somehow managed to come off as fashionable instead of unmanly. Barely.

  Jameson spoke to Cora under his breath, but loud enough for the group to hear. “Who’s that?”

  Cora replied, just as quietly. “I have no idea, but I don’t like him.”

  Aven felt a wave of protectiveness that was almost aggression pour off of Jameson. The Keeper positioned himself between Cora and the approaching man.

  Auntie tugged on his arm, surprising him. Aven looked down at the old switch and saw her wrinkled face was even more wrinkled, screwed-up like she was in pain. A little panic moved through Aven. Was Auntie okay? He tuned into her vibe and felt no pain, though, so Aven went a step deeper, and felt the most intense blend of love and hate, an unending cycle of longing and purging, each taking a turn in the light before drowning itself in the darkness.

  Auntie’s vibe colored everything. Aven felt himself getting dizzy, almost like he felt when he tried to read Carick. In the corners of his perception, Aven heard the conversation happening around him.

  The stylish man was slightly out-of-breath. “I thought that was you.”

  Cora, ever blunt, replied, “Have we met?”

  The stranger laughed. “Oh my god, how stupid of me. I’m Thorn. Thorn Severn.”

  Beyond the pull of Auntie’s whirlwind, Aven felt Cora react, felt her energy change from distaste to confusion. At that same moment the breeze blew Thorn’s scent across Aven’s face. For the second time, Aven scented Darby’s stalker.

  Alarm bells rang in Aven’s head. He pulled back from Auntie’s swirl of emotions and looked around, felt the moment slam him like a wrecking ball, tried to get right with it. Darby’s stalker was here. Thorn was Darby’s stalker, the shifter who’d disappeared.

  Aven made to launch himself at Thorn’s throat but didn’t get far. Auntie had ahold of him, her feelings mixing in with his. Indecision stalled him. Thorn’s scent and sense wavered. Aven reeled and tried to think. Was he right about this? He had to get away from Auntie, get her hand off his arm, but not hurt her. He eased her closer to Cora. They grabbed hands, the elderly pink switch and the young green one. Aven extricated himself and stepped away from the females, not sure what to do, not sure if he was right.

  Cora gestured at Thorn weakly with her free hand. “He’s my antiques guy.”

  So she did know him, or at least she thought she did. If Cora had never seen the real Thorn before, then this guy wasn’t necessarily who he said he was. But Aven knew what he was.

  Aven growled low in his throat, calling Jameson’s attention so he’d know Aven was serious. “He’s Darby’s stalker.” Aven waited for the signal, any signal. Thorn would be on the ground before he knew what hit him.

  Thorn’s head whipped around so fast it took extra time for his hair to catch up. The revulsion on his face was hard enough to fake, but the vibe was near-impossible. Horror, disbelief, even a little hurt. And they matched his words. “I’m what?” He was so sure he was no stalker that it made Aven second-guess himself again, hard. Could he be wrong? Again? He’d been sure about Maze, too.

  Aven’s mind caught there. He stared at Thorn, thinking, while Jameson, Cora, and Auntie stared at them both. Thorn’s scent made him think of Cage, he realized. And Maze, to a lesser degree. Just around the edges, like the smell of burnt feathers in both their scents, but not that. But he didn’t know what it was.

  Aven’s whole foundation shook. Was he doing it again? Mixing up scents? Was he completely unreliable now? What the fuck was wrong with his wiring?

  Jameson was still looking at Aven. Aven gave Jameson a sharp, small shake of the head. False alarm. He wasn’t sure about Thorn.

  Thorn moved in quickly, toward Cora, holding his arms out like he might catch her. Jameson and Aven moved at the same time to cut him off, but Cora was already moving away, looking like she might be sick. Unease poured off of her and Auntie both.

  Cora put a hand to her forehead. “Probably morning sickness. We should go.” She lead Auntie away, Jameson following, giving Aven looks.

  Thorn had stopped in his tracks. He watched her go.

  Aven stepped into Thorn’s field of vision, determined to force another reaction, get another read. “What about that car you ran off the road last month?”

  Thorn’s vibe went cautious, like Aven might be on meth or bath salts, about to assault him. Aven wasn’t on drugs, but he certainly felt ready to assault someone. He got up in Thorn’s face, thinking he could scare the truth out of the guy. Dakota’s mustang pulled up into his peripheral vision and she honked.

  Aven could only think that he didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing. He stepped back, eyes locked on Thorn, sending him a very clear message. I’m watching you.

  Thorn rushed away on foot. Only when he was out of sight, did Aven head to Dakota’s car.

  * * *

  Dakota drove them away from the courthouse and didn’t ask Aven what was up. He was seething in her passenger seat and she knew enough about that kind of emotion to keep her mouth shut. He would tell her what that was about when he was ready.

  She hadn’t liked that guy he’d been staring down either. He had looked like a first class asshole, one who would kick you while you were down.

  They drove to the cabin. When they were halfway there, Aven’s mood eased. She wanted to comfort him.

  She didn’t.

  Chapter 17 - Ducks In A Row

  The next morning Dakota woke up to the sound of Aven in the kitchen. Mmmmm, maybe if she stayed here long enough he’d make her breakfast in bed? One way or the other?

  No, she told herself sternly. She’d made it this far, it couldn’t be much longer before she got to be part of The Cause, managed to get close enough to a vampire to shift. Then they could
have their fun, free and clear. Dakota threw back the sheets, determined.

  She got dressed all the way to her shoes and stepped into the kitchen. Aven was packing a real, live picnic basket with food. Dakota couldn’t remember ever knowing a man who owned a picnic basket before. She liked it. “We going bear-hunting, Ranger?”

  Aven smiled at her. “Gonna be out for a while. Figured we’d take our lunch with us.”

  She grabbed an apple and protein bar from the provisions they’d bought yesterday, after leaving the courthouse. “Where we going?”

  Another smile. If he didn’t quit that…

  Aven laughed, probably at her frustration. “Everywhere,” he said.

  Okaaaay. Dakota followed him outside. Aven turned and headed to the back of his cabin, stepping around a wood pile and a huge stump he obviously used for splitting logs.

  She bit her apple to keep from groaning. Reminded herself she’d catch a glimpse of Aven and his wood before long. She just had to make it a little further.

  Aven walked on, either oblivious to her fantasizing or too polite to say anything about it. He spoke to her over his shoulder. “We’ll need to talk periodically, plus this picnic basket is too heavy for my talons, so we’ll have to take Ol’ Bessie instead of shifting.”

  Dakota swallowed her bite and asked, “Ol’ Bessie? You got a mule back here?”

  Aven laughed. “One step up, maybe. Jameson makes sure we don’t get the snazziest equipment, since shifters don’t really need it but it would look funny not to have it. I haven’t gotten Ol’ Bessie out in months.” He stopped by a waist-high, twelve-foot-long, tarp-covered hulk. Aven flipped the tarp back from one end.

  Ol’ Bessie was an all-terrain vehicle, with a trailer for rescues, or transporting supplies on smaller trails. Dakota watched nervously as Aven stuck his hand into the dark space at the back of the ATV and unhooked the trailer. “Don’t you worry about snakes?”

  Aven shook his head, a dark look on his face. “I’ve never even seen a snake around my place. They must know a raptor lives here.”

  She nodded. Her grandfather used to wear that same look. “Snakes are everywhere in the desert. My grandpa would pull over right on the highway if he saw one slithering across the road. Shoot it dead.”

  “I think your grandpa and I would have gotten along,” Aven said.

  By the time Dakota finished her apple, Bessie was ready to ride. Dakota climbed on after Aven, settling the picnic basket between them. It might hurt when they went over bumps, but it was smarter than being pressed up against Aven’s golden everything that smelled like heaven and felt twice as good.

  The ATV jerked into motion, and Dakota realized she still had no idea where they were going. Oh, well. She tightened her thighs around the picnic basket as Aven crawled the ATV to the road. Her hands gripped beneath her seat and she watched the scenery go by.

  The late October forest was a riot of color. The usual oranges, browns, and yellows of autumn, but also subtle peaches, dramatic burgundies, and a good bit of evergreen. Dakota breathed in the crisp morning air and smiled. Aven opened the throttle to max. They sped south on the dirt trails, into Nantahala Forest.

  Half an hour later they stopped by a big boulder and climbed off the ATV. Dakota’s butt was asleep from the constant vibration. She slapped it awake. A stifled groan came from behind her, and she turned to see what Aven’s deal was. His eyes were locked on her ass and the hand currently rubbing it.

  He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. His eyes said it clearly: Lemme know if you need help with that. Dakota clamped her lips to keep from taking him up on the offer.

  “Where are we?” she said.

  Spreading out for at least a hundred yards on one side of the tank-sized boulder, was a field of waist-high, light-purple, daisy-like flowers with yellow, cone-shaped centers. They reminded Dakota of a box of tea. She looked over at Aven, waiting for him to answer.

  He waved a hand at the field. “Echinacea. Carick says it’s for Bone Coven. We don’t have any of those switches yet, but part of my job is to keep an eye on all the coven locations, see if anything changes. You’re good with the details, take a look around.”

  Dakota did, even though she didn’t know what she was looking for. The field of flowers lay south of the boulder, the Echinacea crowding out any trees or other vegetation from growing. The meadow itself was situated on a plateau, surrounded by rocky hillside that made her think of mountain goats in nature documentaries.

  They climbed back on the ATV. “Next stop: Blood Coven,” Aven said over his shoulder as Dakota settled in place.

  Blood Coven? Dakota made a face nobody could see. She’d heard enough about the switches over the last few days to know she didn’t know enough to prejudge, but still. It was a creepy name.

  But the coven’s location was beautiful, Dakota had to admit. Aven stopped the ATV at another boulder, this one near a sharp bend of flowing water, she guessed the Nantahala River. The water was shaded by a crowd of enormous weeping willows whose branches danced in the breeze like seaweed in ocean currents.

  Instead of flowers, this field was a calf-deep carpet of groundcover. The plants’ leaves were spiky, maple-shaped, and brilliant reddish-orange. Aven noticed her looking and spoke up. “They’re called Bloody Cranesbill.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dakota couldn’t help but spit. Aven laughed, and she kept on. “But seriously. That’s creepy, right? What is it with Blood Coven?”

  The whole place felt like, as soon as the sun went down, it would be the perfect setting for a spooky scene from a classic horror flick. The kind where the horniest girl died first. That’s my cue. I'm getting outta here. “Next?” she called to Aven.

  He made directly for Ol’ Bessie. “You read my mind.” Dakota almost smiled, but couldn’t quite bring it off. At least she wasn’t the only one who felt wrong here.

  Next stop, the clearing had one enormous, thirty-foot tall stump in the center. It was surrounded by a field of knee-high clusters of tiny, blue, five-petaled flowers. These Dakota knew: forget-me-nots.

  Her father had said they were her mother’s favorite. Dakota smiled just looking at them. She didn’t remember her mom, didn’t miss her, certainly wasn’t angry at her like Dallas had been for much of their lives. But she felt a connection to the tiny blooms nonetheless.

  She looked over at Aven, standing close by. “Which one is this?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out, shoulders losing their tension as he replied, “Bond Coven.”

  Dakota nodded. Funny, how she felt it. The bond-ness of this place. “None of them yet, either?”

  Aven shook his head. “Only Breath Coven, up at Resperanza. We won’t go there today. You’ll have plenty of opportunities later.” He smiled over at Dakota and she felt a flutter in her stomach. From his lips to the Great Cat’s ears, if she was lucky. Dakota wasn’t going to see much more if she didn’t hurry up and get her shift on.

  She was hungry, and according to her calculations they only had one more boulder left to visit. Dakota climbed back on the ATV behind Aven and their lunch, and concentrated on remembering their path.

  It would all be different when she was shifted and could run cross-country, but Dakota had an idea of where they were. Each coven site they’d visited sat on a patch of high ground, and all five sites together formed a half-circle around the northern side of Five Hills. The Nantahala River formed the southern half of the circle. The covens plus the river were the perfect defense.

  Dakota peeked over Aven’s shoulder and saw a wide, bald dome of gray stone in front of them. A little further and the trail leveled off, angling to one side, curving around the stony crest.

  The angle changed and Dakota gasped. She could just see from here that half the rocky dome was missing, as if it had been hit with a hammer and split in two, then half of it removed. But even that was nothing, when she saw the sheer face of the half-dome through the trees.

  It was a rainbow! A whole m
ountain of stone in patches of reds, greens, purples, blues, even an opalescent iridescence seemed to sparkle in spots. The stone sparkled in the sunshine, bringing the mountain to life.

  Aven circled wide. The trail dipped and the rock’s rainbow face was all Dakota could see. That and tree trunks. The boulder she’d expected was ahead of them, but Aven turned uphill, along a path aimed straight for the face of the dome.

  They crested the hill and Dakota gasped again, this time at a field of sunflowers, all six feet tall, with fat, bright yellow petals. Thousands of them spread all the way to the cliffside, their sun gazing faces waving in the breeze.

  Dakota wanted to spin through the meadow. Sunflowers were her favorite. A whole football field of them was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. Her heart filled, lit up from the inside in a way that was completely novel to her. Even the stars over the desert sky didn’t make her feel like this.

  All the jumbled feelings, the racing thoughts, settled into Dakota’s essence and quieted. She knew what she had to do here: Listen.

  Chapter 18 - Cat’s Cradle

  Aven turned off the engine on Ol’ Bessie and breathed in the clean mountain air, laced with the scent of destiny. Or at least he hoped that’s what it was.

  The sunlight reflected off the rainbow of stone on the sheer face of the rocky dome. It reminded Aven of a story Jameson had told him, back when Aven first moved here. Before he knew the significance of this place, or what role he hoped it would play in his future.

  “There’s a legend about that dome,” he said over his shoulder as Dakota lifted herself off the seat behind him. “You want to hear it?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Aven saw why as soon as he looked at her. The awed look on her face said this meadow affected Dakota the same way it did him.

  Now that Aven focused, he could even feel the way her mood matched the one that always welled up inside him when he visited this place. All morning Dakota had been unsettled and, quite frankly, desperately horny. Now her vibe was determined, certain, clear.