Marked Fur Murder (19 page)

Ben stared back, his face impassive. “We both know Anna didn't die by electrocution. But she
did
die in water—are you trying to say the Unktehila are responsible?”

“They have good reason to hate us,” Teresa answered. “After we drove them back to the sea, they hid and plotted. As I said, they're shape-shifters—but they're not limited the way we are. One of their forms is a horned serpent with a glowing crystal in its forehead, and that form has powerful psychic abilities—specifically, it sends out a kind of mental lure, one that attracts its prey.”

“Like a deep-sea anglerfish,” I said. “Sounds like they picked up a few tricks in the depths.”

“Well, they taught themselves a few more,” she said. “They learned how to do more than just send out a
Come here I'm a friend
signal. They fine-tuned the ability down to just
I'm a friend
. And then they worked on mimicking the human form. Some of their efforts have become legendary.”

“Mermaids?” I said.

“And sirens. Practicing their trust-me mojo until they got it just right. Mind-control so subtle that the one being manipulated doesn't even realize it. Perfect for infiltration and sabotage.”

Ben took a step closer to the edge of the branch. “And then what?” he asked. I could see from his body language that he wanted to launch himself off it and into space.

Teresa tucked her legs up, crossing them beneath her as casually as I'd cross my arms. Crimson nail polish gleamed on her toes. “That part of the story is less clear. They started by spreading rumors about the Thunderbirds among the animals. They insinuated that we favored certain animals over others, that we looked down on those who couldn't fly. That some of the messages we passed from one animal deity to another were delivered more slowly, or even altered. The Unktehila's abilities lent the rumors weight, made people believe them. When the Unktehila used their shape-changing and persuasive powers to create a full-blown incident, the supernatural community was ready to lay blame at our doorstep. Which was right here.”

“Hold on,” I said. “That's awfully vague. What exactly was this incident? Who was involved? What were the Thunderbirds accused of?”

She gave me an indulgent smile. “Oh, Foxtrot. So mired in the details of your busy little mortal life. This is the stuff of myth, of legend. It happened a very long time ago, and the story has been passed down through an oral tradition. That means that extraneous details
change:
dates, names, even events. But the central essence of the story, the truth at its heart, that remains pure. And the truth at the heart of this story is that we were betrayed—betrayed by evil—and were forced to hide ourselves among humankind to survive.”

I stared at her. She was very, very good. In one concise statement she'd relegated me to the status of a lower being, blithely dismissed little things like facts as irrelevant cultural artifacts, and cast both herself and my boyfriend as romantic refugees who needed to stick together in the fight against Evil. Wow.

“Let's assume you're telling the truth,” Ben said. “Thunderbirds went into hiding because of the Unktehila. But according to you, that all happened a long time ago. Why are we being targeted now? What changed?”

“We did. After many generations of remaining hidden, the Thunderbirds are returning to the world. Our true selves are reasserting themselves. Our heritage—our legacy—is coming alive once more. Look around you!”

Suddenly she was in motion, her legs straight and her arms outstretched, soaring and swooping through the air. “This is our ancestral home!” she shouted as she flew. She was skimming the inner surface of the sphere, like a marble rolling around inside a glass globe. “It's been waiting for us all this time, a deserted castle longing for its owners. And that's
us
!”

I glanced over at Ben. He was practically twitching with the urge to leap out there and join her.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Your ancient enemies, who can apparently look like anything and control people's minds, are out for blood once more. Now's the perfect time to stage a big, public comeback. Your entire race must have decided to abandon their most prized stronghold on a whim—and even if this place is a target, there are
two
of you. More than enough to defend this entire, massive structure.”

Ben frowned at me. “Can we have a little less sarcasm, please?” he said softly. “We came here for answers, not to argue.”

I shook my head. “And so far, we haven't gotten any. All she's done is rehash what she already told me. We need some hard facts, not—not
legends
.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I could see the frustration in his face before he turned away from me. “Well, that's the problem, Foxtrot. People like us, we don't have the luxury of history. We have myths and stories and yes, legends. I don't like it any more than you do, but it's what I've got. And I have to learn as much as I can.”

He looked back and said, “I'm sorry.”

And then he leapt into the air. “Teresa!” he called out. “Hang on!”

She grinned, more at me than at him, and dove into the tangle of branches. He followed her, as she knew he would.

I sighed, and sank down on the mossy branch to wait. My boyfriend had just flown away with another woman, who might be luring him to his death. Leaving me stranded in the middle of an other-dimensional floating forest. Without the power of flight, or even cab fare.

I scowled. If she didn't kill him, I might.

*   *   *

They were gone just long enough for me to start worrying about whether or not Ben was coming back, which was exactly what Teresa Firstcharger wanted me to worry about. When he did return, he was alone, and not looking nearly sorry enough.

“Well,” I said. “Did you get what you wanted?”

He studied me for a second before he answered. Trying to figure out just how angry I was, I suppose. “Not really, no. Mainly, she wanted to play hide-and-seek. I spent most of my time chasing her, and when I finally caught her she was more interested in flirting than talking. That's when I left.”

“I can't believe you flew off and left me here. What if this was all a trap?”

“Then I guess I did something stupid. But I told you, I had to follow my instincts.”

“Had to follow
her,
you mean.”

“Nothing happened. Don't you trust me?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You flew off without even discussing it!”

I knew that look on his face. It was his stubborn, I-don't-give-a-damn look. “I didn't have time for an argument. I just wanted to talk to her.”

“Without me around, you mean.”

“Well, you weren't exactly helping!”

“What, you mean by using logic and reason instead of my
instincts
?”

He threw his hands wide in exasperation. “What, exactly, about any of this seems logical or reasonable? We're in another dimension, in the middle of a big floating ball of trees and rocks!”

He had a point, but I was too angry to care. “A big floating ball of trees and rocks that you
abandoned
me in. Now, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to go home.”

“Fine.” He thrust his hand out at me and I took it.

I didn't think it was possible to fly hand-in-hand with your lover through a beautiful, sun-dappled forest and be angry, but I was. In fact, all the beauty around me just made it worse, like I didn't have the right to be angry in a magical place like this.

But I was. I was angry at him for leaving me, and angry at myself for not trusting him, and really,
really
angry at Teresa Firstcharger. For, you know, being young and gorgeous and superpowered and not me.

We flew out of the woods and straight into a whirlwind, which scared me until I realized Ben had summoned it before we got there. We slowed to a hover in the middle of it, stray leaves from the forest below tumbling around us, and then we were back in the graveyard on solid ground.

He tried to hold on to my hand, but I pulled it away. “Foxtrot, please.”

“Please what? Do you have any idea what could have happened in there when you flew off? We'd just been told that big, scary, shape-changing monsters with a taste for human flesh are targeting us. What if one of
them
had shown up?”

I hate being powerless, and I'm not crazy about thoughtless boyfriends, either. Ben picked that moment to say just about the worst thing he could have: “The Aerie is safe—the Unktehila can't come there. Teresa told me that much.”

I glared at him. “Fine. Tell you what—since I wasn't there, why don't you write down all the nuggets of wisdom she imparted to you in a nice, thick book. I'm sure your
instincts
will tell you what to do with it when you're finished.”

And then I turned and stomped away. I'm not really much of a stomper, but I put some effort into it. I stomped right through a stream of gold and white ghostly guinea pigs, and they scattered like I'd kicked them. Ghosts are sensitive to extremes of emotion.

I stopped at the gate connecting the graveyard to the mansion's grounds and used the Crossroads' psychic-amplifying effects to braincast a message to both Whiskey and Tango:
Meet me by my car.
Then I left the graveyard and walked up to the house. By the time I got there I had myself under control, and the stomping had turned into striding.
Self
and
control
were two of my middle names.

Then I pulled out my phone. I called ZZ.

And I took the rest of the day off.

 

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

I am not a quitter. I do not quit.

I do, however, sometimes need a break. And while I normally schedule those in five-minute increments—of which four may be spent crying—sometimes I require a little longer.

Which is not to say I just walk away from a job undone. In fact, I made six more phone calls immediately after I talked to ZZ, making sure I wasn't leaving anyone in the lurch. No lurch-leaving, that's always the rule.

I wished a certain reckless cook felt the same way.

You can't always burn the candle at both ends. Juggling all my normal duties plus taking care of the graveyard was a lot, but throw in a hidden, mind-controlling people-eating monster? I needed to regroup.

So I put the least urgent stuff on temporary hold and decided to concentrate on the more immediate, life-threatening stuff. Because that gigantic, rainbow-colored snake slithering through Cooper's dreams and the vision of Bonkle's imaginary friends had to be what Teresa Firstcharger had described.

The Unktehila. A supernatural carnivore that would probably love to gobble up not only my boyfriend, but a certain kitty and pooch whom I cared very much about.

Both of them were waiting patiently by my car when I walked up. Well, Whiskey was waiting patiently. Tango was on the hood, pacing back and forth and putting dusty little paw prints all over the paint job.

I unlocked the doors and opened the rear one. “Both of you, get in.”

They just stared at me.

“Because there's a threat to all of us and we need to go someplace safe to discuss it and we might be overheard. So just get in the car, please.”

[A threat? We're running away from a threat? That hardly seems proper.]

“It's not proper, it's prudent. Get in.”

Tango sat down. And yawned.

“I will. As soon as you get in the damn car!”

Whiskey glanced at Tango. [She's upset.]

[Hard not to. More angry than scared, though.]

is
swearing.>

[Not a good sign. She must have had a fight with Ben.]

I groaned. “Look, I'll tell you both all about it if you'll just
get in the car
!”

[No.]

I glared at both of them, then slammed the door shut. “Fine. You want to know what's going on? That snake we're hunting is probably hunting us. Or at least Ben and Teresa Firstcharger, because it's something called an Unktehila that just happens to be the ancient, sworn enemy of the Thunderbirds. Oh, and it can look like anything and persuade anyone to trust it.”

My partners considered this, Whiskey's eyebrows going up in worry while Tango took a more relaxed approach and licked one paw.

[You're overreacting,] Whiskey finally said.

“How can you say that? Tango, you were the one all worked up about a giant snake lurking in the shadows—”

She looked at me blandly, reminding me once again that cats are 50 percent stubborn and 50 percent contrary. And 150 percent independent.

[First of all, Foxtrot, you're overstating the situation. Speaking as a shape-shifter myself, there's no being that can look like anything at all. There are always limitations. Second, there's no such thing as universal persuasion, either. Once you're on guard for it, attempts at mental coercion are easily recognized and can be deflected.]

I gave up. “Got it,” I said. “Okay, we're not running away. But we need a plan. We need to stop bouncing from one event to another. We need to
strategize
.”