Markings (12 page)

Another light burst before us, and Tom was gone. A massive, sandy-coated lion came down on the brawl. He opened his mouth, an ear-shattering roar echoing through the pinelands. I threw my hands over my ears.

Fur still sticking up on their arched backs, the panther and cougar finally separated. Their tails flickered to the side, taunting each other. Blood dripped through areas of their coats.

Tom jolted between them before they could start round two. He flattened his ears into his thick mane and growled, stamping his paws in front of their faces so they’d move back. He stopped when there was about ten feet between them.

The cougar flopped down, bursting into orange and white sparks. Aaron sat back in the grass, fuming. Steam came off his shorts. His shirt had a series of smoking holes through it. The shirt’s left side was completely gone, leaving his shoulder to hang out. What remained hung in loose flaps, a few spots still smoldering. My nose wrinkled as I picked up on the smell of burning rubber. His Vans shoes lay in the grass, melted together.

Jace brushed himself off, his clothes not burnt like Aaron’s. He tossed his hair from his eyes as he stood up. A claw mark on his cheek leaked down his face, but he was so busy leering at Aaron that he didn’t bother to wipe it.

“Now let me make something clear, ladies,” Tom snarled, pacing between the boys. Ears pinned back, he remained in lion-form, though his mouth moved and formed words easily as mine. “Need I remind you we came here to exchange information, not
claws
? Damn! The Keftey are killing enough of us as it is and now we’re trying to kill each other?”

“Oh, please.” Aaron rolled his eyes, getting up.

Tom growled at him. “Everybody that wants to stick to the original plan, move out to the field’s edge.”

Trinity peeled my fingers off her waist. I couldn’t stop shivering as everyone migrated north. “Sorry,” I told her.

She half-smiled. “It’s okay. Shifter fights can be unpredictable . . . and scary.”

“Oh, no!” Tom jumped in front of Aaron as he began to follow the group. “Not after what just happened. Go cool off first, you loose cannon. We’ll take the meeting from here.”

Aaron hissed. “Screw you, Tom.” He started back towards the jeep, ripping what was left of his shirt off.

The lion approached Trinity and me. “Lina, for your well-being and further safety, I think you might want to sit this meeting out. I don’t want Jace’s paws on you and, believe it or not, he’s harder to control than Aaron. I didn’t know he was going to act like this. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I muttered.

“Good girl. This shouldn’t take too long.” Tom turned away. “Trinity?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” She waved a hand, shooing him off. When the lion was out of earshot, she looked at me. “Keep an eye on Aaron for me will you?”

“You sure he won’t claw me, too?”

“No way. He likes you.”

I blinked at her.
He likes me.
Sometimes I wasn’t so sure. “Yeah, okay.”

“Thanks.” She jogged off.

Aaron stood beside the jeep, pulling something out from under the backseat. His aura was difficult to read from so far away. I wondered how wise it’d be to approach him now. I wanted to stand by him, comfort him . . . if he would let me. It’s what he’d done for me, after all.

When he didn’t appear to be throwing things or shifting back into a wildcat, I shuffled over.

Chapter 13: Kat Fight

A
white first-aid box sat on the backseat, its top flipped open. Aaron doused a pair of cotton balls in peroxide. He ran them over his side a few times, where Jace’s teeth-marks had left bloody holes. He didn’t look up as I approached.

“What?” he asked, his voice low.

“You okay?” It was a dumb question, but I didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m fine.” The peroxide sizzled as it made contact with the wound. His muscles contracted, and he gritted his teeth, muttering profanities as he grabbed two more cotton balls.

Red droplets caught my eye. When he moved to pick up the peroxide bottle, I honed in on the claw marks decorating his spine.
Is he prone to attacks or what?
The scars from the Cain attack were still there, too.

“Hey, you’ve got, um . . .”

“I’ve got what?” He followed my gaze over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see it.

It dripped everywhere.
Eww, not good
. Grabbing cotton balls from the kit, I doused them in the antibacterial. He stilled as my fingers ran over the claw marks, carefully scrubbing away the blood streams that’d hardened to his skin. He was hot to the touch and smelled like smoke, but I didn’t mind. I was too busy obsessing over how freckles infested every inch of him, how the ones along his spine were darker than those across his sides and underarms.
Kind of like stars.
Stars all clustered together, each one the same yet different from the last.

“So do you just catch fire when you shift or what happens?” I asked.

He snorted. “Sort of. My clothes weren’t compatible with the shift . . . Shifter scientists have spent years trying to come up with fabrics that can take us back and forth between shifts. There are organic, go-green ones that dissolve into your fur when you change; they have fibers that regroup and become clothing again when the change reverses. You don’t want to wear shoes or jewelry though,”—he glanced out at the field, at the stream of smoke coming off his sneakers— “those will melt or burst off. Plus, they leave behind evidence for the Keftey should they come prowling.”

I thought about how Jace’s shorts hadn’t been damaged when he changed back. “Can I ask what’s up with you and that Jace kid anyway? You two like rivals or something?”

“I guess you could say that,” he mumbled. “We, uh, we grew up as friends in the clan, but after our first shifts we got sort of . . . territorial.”

“When do first shifts happen? Do they, like, come at any interval in a child’s life?”

“Not usually. The gene is supposed to kick in during the teen years,” he explained. “Girls usually go through their first shift after their seventeenth birthday.”

“And boys?” I imagined a little Aaron with no muscle, dressed in shorts with tufts of dark hair running around the woods. The image made me smile.

“We shift earlier in the game. Usually around thirteen, fourteen . . . There are exceptions, however. Birth defects can postpone first shifts until a Shifter’s early twenties, or sometimes the opposite: they can be born right into the markings stage, where spots are already showing up on their skin. Those kids will shift on and off throughout childhood.”

Markings stage
. That must’ve been what I’d gone through, why I’d woken up with those patches of fur around my shoulders. “What about you?” I asked. “When was your first shift?”

He hesitated. “I was twelve, I think. Maybe a little older.”

With his back clean, I tossed the soaked cotton balls in his pile on the car floor. Absently, I took up two more and moved to his front. He was poking at an injury under his collarbone, making it bleed harder.

“Stop, that’s gross. You’re making a mess.” I slid my hand under his, moving his arm away. My cotton balls instantly turned red as I dabbed the wound. “Jeez, you’re like a hemophiliac. What happened to Shifter blood clots faster?”

He half-smiled, eyes sweeping over my figure. “You know, when I first met you I thought you’d be one of those sissy girls, the kind that would see blood and throw up or pass out.” He picked a roll of gauze off the jeep seat. “But so far you seem pretty immune . . . and you apparently pass out at random intervals, not at the sight of bodily fluids.”

It was hard to say whether or not that was meant as an insult. But I grinned, taking the gauze from him. “Just blood. I don’t do any other bodily fluids. And I told you: the passing out thing was new.” My smile faded as I thought back to the lotus tree, to the shadows on the ground.

“Why’d you ask me about a lotus tree?”

“I . . . don’t know.” I wrapped gauze around my fingers, pressing it firmly to his chest.

“No, I think you do,” he retorted.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It was this weird dream and I don’t remember much of it,” I lied. I remembered how sharp and vibrant the lotuses had been as they bloomed, and how red they were when they melted.

He stared at me. I knew the second I met his eyes he’d try to glare the subject out of me and I’d crack. The one good piece of advice my dad ever offered was this: if you want a guy to drop a subject, you have to distract him.

I came up with, “So, why doesn’t your girlfriend come by the shelter?”

His forehead wrinkled. “Excuse me?”

“Your girlfriend. You must have one.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Um.” I blushed. “Well, you know. You, um, you seem popular among the girls. You did see the baristas in the coffee place the other morning, didn’t you?”

He blinked. “No?”

“Oh . . . Well, they kept looking at you.”

He sighed. As I tossed the soiled gauze aside, I dared to glance at his face. He gazed at the ground. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I won’t ask you about your weird dreams and you won’t ask me about my girlfriend. Okay?”

I hesitated. “Oh . . . okay.”

“’Kay. Deal.” He nodded, gently nudging me away. Bending over the seat, he started to clean up the mess on the car floor.

I leaned against the side of the jeep. This pins-and-needles feeling kept going through my chest.
He attached the word
my
to
girlfriend, I thought. So he did have one, is that what he meant? I’d been bluffing—I didn’t think he did—but his reaction said it all: someone was on his mind.

Which means I’m not
. I climbed into the passenger seat, and to hide my disappointment, I watched the group on the field.

The group’s meeting went on what seemed like forever. Aaron stashed the first-aid kit and climbed into the driver’s seat. He kept looking between them and me, and I struggled to act natural, praying he wouldn’t sense my change in mood.

Finally, they stood up. Tom and Joey shook hands. I hopped out of the jeep, returning to the field. Aaron lingered behind me. The group slowly divided as they headed towards us. I purposely arced away from Jace as he passed, still giving me the evil eye. He spared Aaron a last growl, almost like he dared him to put up his claws again, but Aaron didn’t; he walked past without a glance. Jace huffed before striding into the trees.

Joey bounced up and threw his arms around me. “Welcome to the clan, madam,” he said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you more. You were worth the six-month search.” He winked. “You, uh, ever need a bodyguard—”

“Get lost, Joey,” Aaron interrupted. “She’s mine for the guarding.”

“For now.” The small warrior smirked, bumping Aaron with his hip. Aaron shoved him away from me. A flash of light and he’d become the jaguar again, trotting off after his friend.

Excuse me, I’m who’s?
I thought as Aaron hovered at my side. He’d emphasized the word
mine
. For someone with a girlfriend, his actions were odd: he came all the way to Mt. Hood for me. He risked his life for mine, caught me when I fainted in the woods, bought me coffee. Those weren’t the actions of someone who didn’t care, right?

A terrible thought occurred to me: what if he only did all those things because I was the Alpha? I had wanted to think he cared about me as a person, liked the real Lina, and not destined Alpha Lina.

My heart cracked a little. Now I wasn’t so sure.

•   •   •

“Thanks for the ride, Trin,” I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt.

“Anytime, Lina.” She leaned on the steering wheel of her Jaguar. She tilted her head toward my house. “Cute place!”

“Oh, thanks.” I’d never really connected our hundred-year-old, woodland home to be considered
cute
. I plucked my purse off the floor.

“Hey, are you alright?” Trinity asked.

“What? Oh, yeah.” I managed to act surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem . . . I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You seemed kind of down when we got back to the shelter. Did Aaron say something?”

More than I bargained for.
“No, of course not.”

Her eyes narrowed, catching flickers of the porch light. For the first time, the feline appeared in her pretty face, like it was debating whether to pounce on me or not. “Liar,” she accused.

“I’m just tired.” I reached for the door handle, knowing I
was
tired—tired of lying. And tired of these Shifters catching onto what was going on in my head. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? No more tugging me from school, either. I’ve got enough homework as it is.”

She pretended to gag herself, but then gave in. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

I waved from the porch, watching her back out. The Jaguar made a low
zroom
,
zroom
, gliding into the street. When the forest obscured my view of the black blur, I bent down and flipped Mom’s welcome mat up. We kept the spare key hidden underneath.

When I lifted it up, there was no spare key.

My heart, which—after cracking—had felt hollow the rest of the afternoon, gave a jump. Spare key? Gone? No. That wasn’t possible. Mom and I had programmed ourselves to put the spare back once the door was open. I threw the mat aside.

No key.

I wrapped my fingers around the door handle and pushed. The door opened. I wished suddenly that it had been Aaron to drive me home this evening.
Stop it, you don’t need him
. I stepped inside, sniffing the air. The house smelled sweet like freesias, compliments of Mom’s table bouquet. No sign of that rancid, dog odor that seemed to follow the Keftey. Jerking the switch for the lights, I spun around.

The living room illuminated, revealing an unoccupied couch, no moving shadows. The room stood silent as the grave. Closing the door, I noticed the stove light glowing in the kitchen.
What if they came through the backdoor?
It was possible. Mom had customized the locks so the same key would fit in front and back.

Tip-toeing to the kitchen entrance, I peeked around the corner. The kitchen was deserted, too. I rattled the handle to the back door. Locked. So the first floor was clear.

The stairs creaked under my weight. Already I’d planned out what to do should I find one of them lurking.
If it’s in the hall
, I thought,
I’ll make a run for the bathroom
. Yes, the bathroom window had no screen. Mom bashed it out last summer, trying to kill a spider that’d gotten in. I could fit through and crawl out onto the roof, hop off the side that lowered near the garage. I would make a run for it, across the street to the neighbors’.

But nothing lingered in the hallway either.

I jerked to the left. The bathroom door hung open. I imagined a great, yellow-eyed monster standing there, and jumped when I saw movement.
Oh, for crying out loud
. I sighed. My reflection in the wall mirror shook its head.
It’s just you, you nut
.

I was aiming towards Mom’s office when I realized I hadn’t seen any of the cats, that Harry hadn’t come out to say hello like usual. I sniffed again, noticing a change in the air. It had taken on a strange, coconut scent. The further I moved down the hallway, the stronger it got.

It was strongest by my bedroom door.

I hesitated.
If it’s in there, you slam the door and race to the bathroom
.
Resort to plan A
. My hand folded around the handle. Shifters probably had to deal with this kind of thing all the time. If they could do it, I could do it, too. I slid inside, just far enough to see around my closet. A figure popped up in front of me.

I screamed and the intruder jumped back.

“What the—Kat?”

She grabbed her chest, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh my gosh,” she said, smoothing her sweater down. It and her jeans reeked of coconut oil.
How did I not recognize that?
Coconut Kisses—her favorite perfume.

“What are you doing here?” I breathed.

“What are
you
doing creeping around the house?” she retorted. “I thought I’d hear you and then I would come tromping down the stairs and . . . I’ve been here for over an hour, do you know that? Where have you been?”

“I—well—working at the shelter.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” she snapped. “Where the hell did you
go
? One second you’re leaving me to go up the trail and the next you’re—you’re
poof.
Dissolved, gone, bam! And don’t give me the mom excuse, because I am the
inventor
of the mom excuse.”

“Okay, okay.” I threw my hands up in surrender. “Can you please stop yelling? I have an explanation.”

“Well, fork it over.” She crossed her arms, straightening her back.

I should’ve called to her when she passed Aaron and me on the trail. I should’ve struggled harder to get her attention. She deserved to know what was happening. “You might want to sit down,” I suggested, moving to take the chair at my computer.

“Oh, this better be good.” She strode to the bed, plunking down on the edge. “Begin.”

I took a breath then spilled the entire story, starting from when I’d sprouted leopard spots, to where I left her on the trail. I told her why I left, that I’d dreamt about a clearing and a voice, and a dark shadow lurking under the trees. I explained that the guy she’d been eyeing in the dining hall, Cain, had showed up in the clearing, and that Aaron came in shortly after. It got difficult, however, trying to tell her about Cain’s transformation.