License to Shift (17 page)

Which meant she had to go for it. She plugged her nose and chugged, though the last bits were choked down more than swallowed. He grabbed the empty bottle from her hand while she was still gagging. Then he stood up with a pleased smile.

“Excellent. And while we're waiting for your scent to kick in, let's talk about your father's research. Why the hell would he put his own notes in code?”

She shrugged and tried not to retch. “It's shorthand.”

“So translate it.”

She looked at him, gratified that she'd guessed correctly before. But just to be sure, she asked the obvious question. “Is that why you attacked the cabin a few days ago? To get me to translate it?”

He rolled his eyes. “You might have noticed that those gentlemen were unstable as well.” He glanced at the creature in the cage. “Though they did hold it together longer than him.”

She held silent, watching his eyes. She'd never known a man yet who couldn't resist crowing about something he knew and others didn't. It only took a minute before he started talking again.

“Let me explain,” he said, condescension in every syllable. “Elisabeth's immediate family was killed by the wolves, but she had relatives in Phoenix. Not full shifters, but with the cougar DNA. I developed the formula for activating it enough for them to partially shift. But it's unstable without her.”

“Why? What's so special about her?”

“Exactly!” he crowed like she was a prize pupil. “She called it bonding. She held her relatives and sang to them. But I noticed the scent.”

“So she has cougar pheromones that stabilized her kin.”

He snorted. “Not enough. She brought twelve of her relatives to me for help. There are only four left now.”

Good. The fewer insane baddies, the better.

“Whatever is stabilizing them isn't working as well. That's why we needed your father's recipes.”

And her. To translate his notes.

“Thankfully, he had one bottle already made up. Convenient, don't you think?”

And stupid of her to pull it out and set it on the counter in full view of the baddies. “So why send them after me again?”

“I didn't send them anywhere. They were destabilizing. Elisabeth tried to bond with them, but it failed and they ran.”

“They just ran? But…”

“They went back to the last thing they'd been ordered to do. The last time they were rational.”

“My father's cabin.” Well, Mark had said there was a kind of salmon instinct in the shifters. It's what kept the Gladwins right here in mid-Michigan. But she'd never thought it would apply the way he described.

Psycho Einstein shrugged. “Who can fathom the workings of an unstable mind?”

Sort of the pot calling the kettle black, right?

Meanwhile, he wiped his hands on a nearby towel as if touching the empty bottle had made him dirty. “I'm hungry. I think I'll get some lunch. Then I'll bring you a bucket, just in case.” He flashed her a smile and a jaunty wave before disappearing out the door.

Julie stared after him, her thoughts whirling. But after a moment, they settled into two distinct sentences.
What the fuck? Please, Mark, find me soon.

M
ark was flummoxed, and he was not a man to use a word like that. Baffled, gob-smacked, even discombobulated. Without his bear forcing a tighter focus, his brain spun off into a thousand different directions at once, none of them useful. Half of him was spinning into increased circles of panic about Julie. What was happening to her? Where was she? What could he do to help?

The other half of him was just spinning. Since adolescence, he'd daily longed for silence from his bear. Turned out, his bear was the grounded one in his brain. The grizzly focused on immediate things. If food and shelter were handled, the grizzly allowed another item on the list. Like finding Julie. But without the bear constantly limiting what could be dealt with, Mark ended up staring into space, lost in a thousand different thoughts. Sure, they were full, complete sentences, but they overlapped one another like layers of gauze a mile thick.

He couldn't function like this. Which is why he felt grateful for the time at the hospital. He did as he was told, followed simple instructions, and fought for control of a brain gone ADD.

It took him three hours. Three terrifying, horrendous, splintered hours. But thanks to a sympathetic nurse who let him slam back a pot of coffee, he managed to corral his thoughts into some form of order. First off, he had to get out of the hospital. Nothing he could do for Julie from here. So without overthinking it, he just put on his clothes and walked out. Then he got a cab and went straight to his alpha's house.

“What the fuck have you found out?” he demanded as he burst into Carl's home.

“Nothing more than I said in the last text ten minutes ago,” Carl grumbled. He was sitting at his kitchen table looking haggard. Theo was nearby, looking as anxious as a broad-shouldered teen boy could. And Becca was doing what she always did when she was worried. She baked.

“Tell me again,” Mark growled. And when Carl sent him a furious look, Mark remembered he was talking to his alpha. “Please.”

Carl sighed and shoved his laptop away from him. “I remembered the Crazy Cat Lady. Her name is Elisabeth Oltheten and she was part of the cougar delegation way back when. But not a primary in it. Just someone who hung around helping. She got food for the cougars, made sure the hotels were set, and finalized transportation.”

“So a secretary?”

“No. She wasn't allowed in the meetings. She was just around. I've reached out to the cats, which is how I got her name, but they don't know where she is.”

“Or they aren't telling us.”

Carl acknowledged that with a grimace. “She's some sort of respected elder.” He pulled out his phone and started flipping it over and over in his hands. It was a nervous gesture that Mark understood. He was having trouble keeping his hands still too. “Tonya found out that she's got some relatives in Phoenix, Arizona, but that's about it.”

“What does Alan think? Does he remember her?” As the two sons of the Gladwin alpha, both Carl and Alan had been at the peace talks so many years ago. But it was Carl who'd been the primary negotiator, showing signs of diplomacy well beyond his years. Alan had been there as secretary while their father had sat as the big bear who was going to keep the peace.

“Don't know,” Carl growled. “He's not here.”

Mark jolted, his gaze hopping to the stairway up to Alan's bedroom. “Why not? Where is he?”

Carl shrugged, his expression dark. Becca was the one who answered, her words tight and low. “He left almost a week ago, probably because of me.”

Mark frowned, trying to rapidly sort through the possibilities in his brain. It didn't work well because there were too many. So he headed for the coffeepot while he grabbed the first idea that popped into his head. “You two fight?”

“No! We…Well…He might have thought we needed some space.”

Oh. Right.
Theo, Becca's adopted son, was part of the Gladwin Kids Camp (aka shifter school), which meant he slept in the cabins with the other teens. That left Carl and Becca, newly in love, alone here except for the third wheel named Alan. No wonder the guy made himself scarce.

“But it's not like him to stay gone. Not at a time like this.”

“I know,” grumbled Carl. “He sent me a text days ago saying he'd connected up with a law school friend and wouldn't be home for a while. Tonya says his phone is turned off.”

Mark swallowed the coffee black, using the bitter taste to focus. What had Carl said? Phone. Off. “Turn it back on.”

“It's off. It can't be—”

Mark grabbed Carl's laptop and started typing fast. With all the caffeine, his fingers flew on the keyboard. Meanwhile, the glare from his alpha had him confessing the truth. “So remember how Tonya put a GPS tracker on your truck ages back? Because you're the alpha and—”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“Who do you think got her that really good tracker? And who do you think hacked your phones? She's good, but she's not a real techie.”

Becca sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “Did you hack Carl's phone?”

Mark shrugged. “I may have installed a couple extra things on it. Like something that makes it
look
like it's turned off when it really isn't.”

Carl stared at his phone like it had grown leper spots. “I can't believe you—”

Theo came off the couch, his teen eyes wide. “Did you hack Alan's phone? Can you teach me how?”

Becca gave the boy a stern look, but Mark barely noticed. “It's on your phone, too,” he said to the boy as he continued to type. “See if you can find it.”

“Awesome!”

It took Mark longer than he liked. This wasn't his computer and he had to maintain his thoughts for more than a few seconds. But it felt good to be doing something even if it wasn't disemboweling the bastards who had taken Julie.

“There you go. Here's where Alan's phone is.” Then he frowned. What the hell was Alan doing near Twin Lakes? There was nothing up there but vacation rentals. “What do you know about this old law school friend?”

Carl stared at the screen, his expression tightening. “Absolutely nothing. What else can you do with that phone?”

Mark shrugged. “If the cops ask, absolutely nothing. But—”

“I'm your alpha.”

Mark spun the laptop back toward him. “Then tell me what you want.”

Becca put her hand on Carl's shoulder and Carl took hold of it. It was a casual, intimate gesture that made Mark's chest tighten. God, he hoped he'd be able to touch Julie again just like that. And a whole lot more.

Meanwhile, Theo piped up. “On TV, they turn on the phone. Make it into a microphone to hear—”

“Don't know if we'll hear anything, but I can give it a shot.” It took an embarrassingly long amount of time, but he got it to work. And then he dialed the audio up to max while they all strained to hear the tight, female voice.

Julie.

“He's unconscious. I don't care how much you threaten me, I can't bond with an unconscious bear. I can't— Hey! Hey! Stop it!” And then she screamed.

S
top it!” Julie's screams did nothing to save her. Which really pissed her off and completely terrified her. At the moment, it was an even match between the two emotions, but she picked the one that got her motivated. Too bad it didn't matter.

No matter how angry she was, no matter how much adrenaline was pumping through her system, she could not stop her captors from pinning her down and injecting shit into her arm. They didn't even open the cage door but reached in and held her flush against the bars. She tried to fight, but she didn't have any maneuverability in the small space, and they were strong. Shifter strong, if she had to guess. And the one with the Diamondbacks ball cap on had freaky cat eyes.

“I'm cooperating,” she screamed, even though she wasn't. “Don't do this! Don't!”

Too late. The crap went into her arm, and she felt the heat of whatever it was roll through her body like an evil wave. It was probably her imagination, but hell, even they didn't know what the compound was going to do to her.

They released her, and she scooted back as far as she could. Not more than eight inches, but it was enough for her rub her arm and glare at her captors. Not Elisssabeth, but Evil Einstein was here in all his manic glory. Plus his minions, one huge guy who said nothing and the freaky boy who kicked at her companion's cage whenever he could.

“Wake up, stinky!” the kid called.

“Leave him alone!” she shouted. It didn't help. The kid turned to grin at her, then kicked the bear's cage harder.

“Oops!” he said, mocking her with every breath. “Did I scare the dead bear?”

“He's not dead yet,” she growled.

Evil Einstein pushed the boy aside. “But he will be. Soon. So if you're going to do something, you better get it done now.”

“There isn't anything to do!”

Evil Einstein huffed out a breath. “You're already starting to stink. Even I can smell it.”

Thanks a lot, bastard.

“Just talk to him. Try to bond.” Then he glanced at the big henchman. “Put her in the cage with him. Maybe that'll help.”

“No!” she cried out, ashamed that she didn't want to be locked in with her fellow captive. With light and time, she'd been able to make out more details. He was more like a lanky, furry man with paws, a big nose, and hair coming out of his ears. And he was just as much a victim as she was, but she still didn't want to climb into the same cage with him. “I, um…I can reach through the bars.”

Einstein nodded, then gestured for the helpers to shove the cages closer together. They couldn't budge the other guy's, but hers slid easily enough. And then there was nothing stopping her from reaching through the bars to stroke the creature's furry leg.

The texture was coarse, the fur uneven. Was that ahead for her, too? Huge, knobby joints and oily fur? A fever she could feel radiating off the skin? Sympathy surged, bright and poignant. This was her future, and she would give what comfort to this creature that she could.

“It's okay,” she said gently. “We'll figure this out.”

His eyes opened, golden brown and sheened bright with pain. A quick stare, long and steady before fluttering shut. Enough time for her to realize that he was not only awake but smart enough to fake sleep. How much of his apparent illness was faked? Probably none of it, she thought with a grim kind of sadness. There was no way to simulate that shallow pant for as long as he had without it being real. And the mottled, thin patches of fur were definitely real.

“How much more time does he have?” she asked, already knowing that he would probably lie to her. Except the man rolled back on his heels and consulted a chart that was hanging on a nail on the wall.

“Hard to say,” Evil Einstein responded. She'd already watched them take blood samples, temperature, and other readings on the guy. All while the creature was mercifully unconscious. Or so she'd thought. “The others died within a day of their fevers reaching one oh three.” He tilted the clipboard to show her the marking. The last check listed his fever as 102.8.

Well, hell
.

“And the ones who survived?”

He glanced at the two minions. “Elisabeth stabilized them long before then.”

Right.
“What's his name?”

The man shook his head, as if in disappointment. “He's Alan Carman. And he ought to have stabilized faster given that he's half shifter.”

Carl's brother.
Shit.
She tried to remember him from that summer in high school, but all she got was an image of a gangly boy who had his nose in a book almost as much as she had. He was only three years younger than Carl and Mark, but at that age, it put him in middle school and completely beneath her notice. Though she did remember him offering her a sad smile one day from across a park. She'd been reading a mystery, and he had a legal thriller. And though they never spoke, he had crossed the entire field to sit at the same picnic bench as her and read. She remembered thinking that was nice of him even if he'd ducked his head back into his book every time she tried to speak to him. Pre-teens boys can be so dorky shy, but she held that image of him in her mind even as she spoke to the misshapen man he'd become.

“All right, Alan,” she said as she squeezed his leg. “You probably don't remember me, but I remember you. You were nice as a kid. And wicked smart. So together, we've got enough brains to get through this, you and me. Okay, Alan? Okay?”

Then apparently the kid with the baseball cap got impatient. “Wake up!” he bellowed as he kicked the cage. Since Julie's arm was through the bars, it painfully jolted her arm and one of the edges dug deep.

“Watch it!” she snarled as she looked at the cut on her arm where the edge had cut into her. It wasn't deep, but it pissed her off. “We do not need that kind of help.”

“Sure you do,” the kid said, with a sneer. “Doc says blood is part of it. Maybe he should lick it.”

She was about to tell him to go fuck himself, but decided Einstein was the better leverage point. “You want us to bond? Get teen nutcase the hell out of here.”

Einstein sighed and gestured the kid back. And when the kid didn't move, stoic minion grabbed hold and jerked the teen back. Progress, she supposed. And then she looked back at Alan. The man's eyes were open. Golden brown and fever bright.

“Okay, Alan,” she said with as much lightness in her voice as she could manage. “Let's do this, okay? And then when you're better, you can break open these bars and crack their heads like eggs, starting with junior, okay?”

His lips might have twitched. That might have been a smile. Or a mindless jerk of his facial muscles. She had no idea. But in this one thing, Einstein was right. They were out of time. So she settled against the bars and began to talk.