Soul Whisperer (10 page)

B
ess did not return to the forest. Instead she landed on the balcony of her high-rise penthouse on Russian Hill. Most days she loved the view here, but tonight she barely noticed the sparkling lights of the city spread beneath her feet. Cesar's assessment of her as some hot, lusty animal cut her just as assuredly as the talons of those gray menaces in the forest.

Niyanoka were never to be trusted. She knew it and could not conceive how she had forgotten even for a moment. She was honest enough to know that her body had needs and that when the mind and body were at odds, her body usually got its way. So what if she had given in? She had done nothing more than scratch an itch. Now it was over and done with.

She would not have to see him again. Except she did have to, said a small voice in her mind.

You promised to fly to the Spirit World, speak to the
mothers of those monsters and share with Cesar what you learn.

Damn. Bess stroked her feather cape, transforming the skin into a thick terry-cloth robe almost instantly. Then she punched in the code to deactivate the alarm and slipped through one of the large glass-paneled doors, that retracted, accordion-style, to allow her to bring the outside in. There she paused, listening to the buzz of the human world. The air conditioner purred, the refrigerator hummed and even the cable box emitted a low whine. There was no silence here, no peace. She found that only in the air.

Bess checked the refrigerator, fully stocked thanks to her housekeeper, Judy. The older woman would have to be replaced soon. She had been with her long enough to begin to notice something was not quite right with her employer. Bess could safely stay here another five or six years, but no longer.

She pulled out the sparkling cider, sliced ham and the loaf of bread. Judy would be surprised to see she had been here. How long ago was it now, two months, three?

She wasn't sure. Bess returned to the way she had come to prefer eating—alfresco. On the outdoor bar she screwed off the gold-tone cap and then drank from the bottle.

Bess finished much of the ham and half the loaf, then washed her mouth with one more swallow of cider. How long until her blood regenerated and she could take the road that no other living thing had ever traveled? Tuff had said she needed food and rest. That meant she might have to sit in this dreadful little concrete-and-steel box for a night or two before departing. Perhaps
she would go to her lodge in the forest. It was peaceful there and closer to the mighty trees she loved.

Bess glanced toward SoMa, where Cesar lived. She'd not go back there no matter how good the sex had been. They shared a common interest, but that was as much of a connection as they would ever share. Now that she knew what he really thought of her, she would not share his bed again. He'd been oh, so polite and sophisticated at dinner. A facade, like the clothing humans wore to make them appear other than what they were—naked, afraid, vulnerable.

She shifted on the cushioned chaise longue, knowing that it would be a fight not to do as she liked and what she liked was feeling Cesar move inside her as their auras danced a tango all about them.

 

Two days later, Cesar stood at another crime scene in the Redwood Forest, the State Park, this time, just off the Avenue of Giants and just inside the Whispering Springs Camp sight. They'd cordoned off the area. The papers were calling the recent deaths the work of a pattern killer, but Cesar knew the births of the little gray newborns had caused the deaths and hoped not to find another dead mother in the forest.

His connections to the Niyanoka law enforcement had turned up nothing. No other district had seen evidence of the births of some new supernatural creature. But they were now on alert.

Cesar ducked under the tape, nodding at the men posted on the perimeter. The human sheriffs and park service had cleared out all the tourists from the area, sending them and their pop-up/pop-out RVs to Gilbert Flats so they couldn't see the nice new camper that something had turned into a recycling project. The
metal skin and particleboard had been shredded and the foam-and-fabric interior scattered, leaving debris a good fifteen feet back. Now the RV looked more like a spent piñata than a former residence.

Two of the uniforms eyed him as if
he
were the curiosity. That was the trouble with humans; they were more interested in covering their asses than making sure something didn't bite theirs off.

Although the family had been away at the time of the attack, Cesar had already seen the bloody remains of the family's German shepherd.

He followed the tracks the hunter had made, now half the size of a man, into the forest, but paused when he got the feeling he was being watched. He scanned among the trunks, looking beyond the rough, folded bark to the salmonberry bushes and waxy rhododendrons that covered the forest floor. If they were moving on the ground, he'd see it first there.

Did they sense him? Did they know he was not human, either?

He pushed back his jacket and released the strap holding his service revolver.

“Don't do it, boys. I don't want to kill you,” he whispered.

Sunlight poured between the branches in columns of light, turning the ground cover beneath it a soft, spring green. Something moved to his left. His gun was drawn and aimed the instant the creature darted from cover, making its way obliquely toward a closer tree. If he didn't know better he would have sworn it was a shadow. But there was nothing to cast such an outline.

Bess had been right, of course. It was ash-gray, with batlike ears. He couldn't see the eyes.

“Come out!” he called.

It didn't. Instead a second creature scurried with unnatural speed after its fellow, staying low in the cover of the ferns. There followed a cacophony of screeches and yowls that sounded as if two cats were mating. Cesar inched closer, bringing the distance to a hundred yards.

“Come out!” he called again.

This time one of the creatures jutted its head around the tree to look at him with a fixed biopic stare. Its large yellow eyes reminded Cesar of a great horned owl. He tried and failed to see the creature's aura before a hand reached out from behind the cover and clenched the thing's ear, dragging it back. More yowling ensued.

The two creatures bounded out together, but in the opposite direction. Cesar gave chase. They sprang along on two legs like monkeys, jumping five to six feet at a bound. Cesar increased his speed. One of his targets glanced back, howled and transformed into a black cloud that resembled the emission from a diesel engine of a city bus. Cesar broke stride as the other followed, launching itself into the air and flying up into the treetops to disappear into the branches.

“Damned if I can follow you there,” he muttered.

His next thought was to go to Bess, confirm that what she had told him was right. The excitement of having someone he could share this with momentarily eclipsed the fact that she would have nothing more to do with him. He stood staring at the giant pines and the canopy that was her home. Should he track her down and apologize or give her space?

All depends on if you want to see her again.
See her, don't see her, the relationship had been DOA. No chance that two of their races would ever survive as a couple. But there were rumors of a Niyanoka far north who had taken up with a great grizzly Skinwalker and
he had met the mother of the Dream Walker who was banished for consorting with a wolf shifter. He faced the same if he continued with Bess. He almost thought she'd be worth it, though, if she didn't hate him.

He and Bess still shared an interest in these Half-lings, for he was now certain that was what they were. He was positive they were not of his race and Bess seemed certain they were not of hers. He was less convinced and still believed they were a new sort of Skinwalker, perhaps half bat or owl. The ears and yellow eyes seemed animalistic to him and they had the ability to transform, something none of his kind could do.

He needed to talk to her, exchange theories. It gave him as good an excuse as he was likely to find and he seized it with both hands.

Now how long would it take for him to uncover her address? Well, he loved a challenge.

He headed back to his car to begin his search of Russian Hill for a very elusive raven. With the help of his smartphone Cesar had discovered a likely penthouse apartment at the Infinity Tower on Folsom. The 2.5-million-dollar unit was owned by a group called, Covrid Enterprises. Had Bess used the scientific name for her animal species as a corporate cover?

He drove back to the city, his eagerness to see Bess filling him up like rainwater. He reached the Infinity Towers and used his badge to gain access to the apartment, and then his gift to make the manager forget he'd ever been there. The building security couldn't keep him out, but he had no way to keep Bess from taking off the moment she saw him.

But as it happened, things didn't go as he'd pictured for when he reached her place, he found it empty. Had Bess gone to the Spirit Road or just disappeared?

 

Bess returned to the world of light and time to discover she had been gone only six hours. The journey that, to her had taken the better part of two days, had bent back upon itself and she had returned barely after she had left. The opposite could also happen. More than once she had returned after a day or two, flying fast and hard, to discover she had been gone the better part of a month.

She landed on the rail of her apartment in a steady gentle rain and then hopped down to her favorite chair, protected from the weather by the awning above her. There she transformed into her human self and stretched out upon the thick cushions in her feather cape, which was now covered with pearly drops of rain. She loved this sheltered balcony for the privacy and the view. Today the misty rain had gobbled up her usual vista of the bay lapping around Alcatraz and sweeping beneath the Golden Gate Bridge.

She closed her eyes to better enjoy the cool moist air, giving a groan in pleasure to finally be at rest. Her joints ached and her muscles trembled from the exertion, but she had done it. She raked her fingers through her damp hair and let her head fall back to the cushions, letting the weariness ebb from her body.

Her journey had confirmed her suspicions. She knew what had sired those newborns in her forest. And soon even that stubborn Soul Whisperer could not refute that they were as dangerous as flying rattlesnakes.

She needed to tell her friends and she had promised to tell Cesar. He wouldn't expect her to keep her word and that was why she was going to. That
was
the only reason, wasn't it?

Bess lifted from her seat with a groan and slipped
in through the glass doors. Her eyes went to the only unfamiliar thing in the room the instant she entered her condo and she knew someone other than her housekeeper had been here.

The white hydrangeas, roses and lilies were in full bloom, but not one had yet begun to droop. Her heart hammered at the possibility that Cesar had found her, excitement racing through her vessels with the rushing blood.

Stop it. He'll make a fool of you again
.

But she couldn't keep from admiring the bouquet. Instead of the usual baby's breath, the blossoms were punctuated with sprigs of evergreen and soft gray-green foliage she could not at first identify, until she inhaled. Mixed with the scent of roses and fresh pine came the distinctive aroma of sage. What an odd choice. It almost seemed her admirer had picked the arrangement by scent.

She smiled, pleased with the gift. They could not compare with their wild counterparts, but she did love flowers.

Bess lifted the card, slipped it from the tiny white envelope and read:

Call me. We need to talk.

He had not signed the note, but he had included his cell number. Was that to prevent others from seeing his name or to keep him from having to choose a closing to the card? Bess's smile faded as her satisfaction died.

Cesar had found her so easily. She glanced at the locked door of her high-security apartment. He had invaded her space. She briefly considered moving, but discarded the notion as too extreme.

Cops could find people and gain entry. It was what they did.

Bess tapped the card against her thumbnail as she headed down the hall toward her bedroom.

She was curious again and that was bad. Her curiosity often brought her trouble. Usually she liked trouble, other people's especially. But just now, she felt that this trouble would come back to roost.

Should she fly to him or make him wait? If he came here, she'd have what humans called home field advantage. But her animal side called for her to keep him away from her nest. This was her territory and she did not want him here. His place then.

She stood in the doorway to her bedroom. How did he know for certain that this was her place? Had he been in here, as well?

The room looked undisturbed, everything as she had left it, but he was an FBI officer. Surely they taught them how to maneuver without being obvious. If she had the chance to be in his apartment without him knowing she would have given his dwelling a thorough going-over. She felt certain he had done the same. What had he seen when looking at her personal possessions?

She tried to picture her bedroom as he might, as if seeing it for the first time instead of the thousandth. The eighteenth century Ottoman tapestry displayed a magnificent black tree growing on a white background, centered just behind the wall of pillows on her bed. The pillows and bed skirt were both created from a custom embroidered silk, black and white again, and if one did not look too closely they might not notice the pattern resembled feathers. Flanking the bed sat two vintage black champagne cabinets, repurposed to act as end tables. A Japanese lacquered screen was mainly black, but did have a bronze-colored tree branch, growing from one panel and across the following two. The
cherry blossoms upon the screen were slightly more pink than white. Had he stepped beyond the screen?