Joe padded past her, heading them down into the scoop of the meadow and toward the tree line on the far side—aiming through the Fremont Saddle to pick up the Weatherford Trail. “If they’ve been here,” he’d told her before the change, “they probably came this way.” Pretty much the only way, on foot.
They being the Core, of course. Those for whom he’d already intended to look today. Not because brevis had warned him, not because consul Dane had sent him any message or his adjutant Nick Carter had bothered with a heads-up, but because anywhere things went amiss as profoundly as the recent power surges, it was worth looking for Core influence.
The tree line rose up around them in an amazingly abrupt transition, stunted and gnarled spruce, firs and pines. Something of a rodent nature rustled low in the grass off to the side; Joe ignored the catlike impulse to play toss the squeakie. He threaded through the trees, heading for the trail in an efficient line—leaping onto rock outcrops as though they were mere steps, bounding over water-worn mini-gullies in the fragile soil.
When he struck the trail, he gave it over to Lyn. They’d had no discussion of it, but it made sense. He could track with his nose, his whiskers, his common sense, but the best trackers could sense any faint trace of used power, including the corrupt presence of Core amulets, and he was betting his little ocelot—
Right. Not yours. Not a tame ocelot. Don’t forget it.
But he thought Lyn could do it.
She didn’t hesitate to move out in front of him. She stepped onto the trail and trotted easily along. The unwary might have said she wasn’t paying attention, but Joe saw the swivel of her ears, the alert, graceful posture of her neck…the slight kink of tension near the end of her tail.
Quickly enough, she stopped short, her ears trained forward—presenting him with a perfect view of the yellow spot on the back of each small, perfectly aligned ear. He came up beside her, watching her whiskers quiver. The quiver traveled through her whole body until she gave a quiet, disdainful little sneeze and shook it off with distaste.
Core. His pulse quickened. And if they were indeed on this trail…he knew where they were headed.
She opened her eyes and instantly stiffened to find him so close, so large; she was ten inches shorter than he and nearly a hundred and fifty pounds lighter. She hissed.
He immediately crouched, not in submission but remorse. Hadn’t been thinking, nope. Sorry, he said, an apology she wouldn’t or couldn’t hear. But when she flicked her tail and stepped out to move on down the trail, he didn’t follow. For that scent in this place…he knew where they were headed, and that meant he was no longer just out for a ramble in the high, free air beside a beautiful companion. Not now.
Now, he was predator.
Lyn scowled. It came out as whiskers tipped back, baleful green eyes glowering at him, ears slanted. A powerful look, used to good effect.
Ryan ignored it. He may have tried to say something to her. She had the uneasy sense of it, enough to make her skin twitch. She couldn’t hear him; she didn’t want to hear him.
Even if it meant watching him turn away to lope downhill with directed strides, slipping between the gnarled, sun-scented pines where the shadows turned long from the early-evening sun. She sneezed again—this time from pure vexation.
Trust him, then. She’d know soon enough if he was leading her into folly…and now that she’d been to this place, she could find her way back with or without him.
She didn’t admit to herself that it was a relief to return to his smooth trace, the baritone feel and the textured depth of it. Something she could sink her mental fingers into, but not a sensation that would ever turn boring. It didn’t matter that he was already out of sight, or that her nose could track him as easily as her eyes. She slipped onto his trail without benefit of either, indulging in an all-out sprint, tail undulating behind her, until she caught sight of him flicking through stunted trees. He paused by a conglomeration of jumbled rocks and gnarled miniature trees to let her catch up.
His whiskers quirked in quick greeting. And she realized, startled, that she’d allowed the feel of him to capture her senses. She instantly closed her eyes to filter him out, pushing the Joe Ryan awareness back to a trickle and casting the area for other influences.
Nothing. Just the feel of this place itself, a deep rumbling hum with a touch of discord and the uncomfortable random prickle of physical static. They’d have to go back to the trail and start again; he’d merely led them astray.
But when she opened her eyes, she found him…gone. She gave a startled mrp, full of sudden suspicion, thoughts racing—had he led her into a trap? Abandoned her here, thinking she couldn’t find her way back? Gone off to—
But by then she had opened herself to the feel of him again, and the baritone corduroy came flooding back with such intensity that she knew he was still close.
Claws scratched rock above her; she glanced up to find him comfortably ensconced on the outcrop, one massive paw outstretched, claws exposed to knead stone and a cat grin on his face.
She would have blushed, had she been in the human form—this, then, was the reason she could never work alone. Too vulnerable, when those moments of utter concentration blocked out all else.
The skin over her shoulder twitched—no doubt he’d said something to her. She scrambled lightly up those rocks to stand beside him; he withdrew his outstretched paw and tucked it beneath him, classic cat, eyes squeezing closed.
Good God, was that a purr she heard?
If so, it was brief and barely evident, but he remained settled. In his element. For the moment, not concerned about Lyn, or about what they might find here. Certainly not concerned about what she might expose of his activities here.
Another flash of uncertainty hit her. Either brevis had been wrong all along—she’d been wrong—or he’d simply led her so astray that he already had complete command of the situation.
She’d prove him wrong. And damn fast.
She settled herself on their perch and went deep again; she wouldn’t let it be said that she’d stinted the search. She filtered him out—harder this time, with his contentment now coloring his trace—and she hunted. The land gave her a trickle of something fresh and bright and near, and at the same time nudged her with the distant unrest of a developing storm cell. And there, at the edges…
Something bitter. Something corrupt. The faint traces of power ripped from its living vessel and stored away, as decayed as any corpse but still entrapped.
Amulets.
Her eyes popped open. She found Ryan watching her with such interest in those predator’s dusky hazel eyes that she felt a quick, ephemeral thrill of fear—it ran down her spine and just like that, puffed out the considerable length of her tail.
He blinked, drew back. Looked, if it was possible, embarrassed. He sat, turning away to look out over the land. For the first time she realized that on the other side of their approach, the rocks tumbled away in a V shape. They sat at the apex, and directly below them, from within the steep cleft of stone and moss, a seep of water eased out to fill the most modest of pools near the base of the structure.
Suddenly she was so very thirsty.
