Deceived By the Others

chapter 15



Chaz was in a terrible mood after dealing with Mr. Cassidy. He didn’t want to go back to the cabin. He didn’t want to be hovered over. He didn’t want to hang around the lodge. He didn’t want to let any of the rest of the pack wander around alone. Basically, he was being an uptight pain in the ass.

After a little while, between the efforts of Simon, Nick, Dillon, Sean, and myself, we convinced Chaz to come back to the cabin and rest up so he wouldn’t be completely strung out when he was forced to shift at moonrise. It took some effort but, once the guys left, he finally agreed to lie down. He sprawled on his stomach on the bed while I rubbed some of the tension out of his shoulders. He seemed to enjoy the fact I was straddling him more than the back rub.

“I don’t understand it, Shia,” he said, grunting a little as I dug into a knot in his lower back. “Why is that old fart protecting the guy who did this? You’d think he’d want it taken care of.”

“He does. You heard him. He wants to handle it himself.”

“I know. I just don’t get why. It’s not like he was the one who got shot.”

“No,” I said, “but he’s got more to lose than you do if the guy gets away. No one will think this place is safe anymore if he doesn’t do something about it personally. Give him a chance to deal with it.”

“I guess,” he grumbled, quieting as I leaned forward to ruffle his hair and place a kiss on his uninjured shoulder. A sigh escaped him as I rolled over to one side to lie back on the bed, folding my hands over my stomach as I looked at him.

“Honey, nothing else is going to happen on it tonight. Can you just try to relax and get some sleep? I promise I’ll use some handy-dandy detecting skills tomorrow to track the guy down for you.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, mulling it over before giving reluctant agreement. “Okay. Promise me you won’t search for this guy alone? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Sure,” I said, inwardly cringing. As soon as he left to hunt in the woods, I was going to sneak up to the lodge to see what I could find out about Mr. Cassidy’s mysterious guests.

Chaz stayed as he was, hands tucked under his cheek as he lay still and quiet on his stomach. I reached out to run my fingers through his short blond hair. It was a little stiff from being gelled up into spikes. Gradually, his eyes closed, and I could see the tension trickling out of his muscles little by little as he tried to relax.

I kept up with the soothing stroking of my fingertips over his scalp until the alarm on the table buzzed a ten minute warning. Chaz groaned and rolled to his feet, rubbing his hand across his face.

“Will you be gone all night?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder before heading to the door, expression troubled. “I’ll be back before dawn. Stay inside. I don’t want Ethan to have any reason to be lured back to the cabins. You can watch from the window while we shift if you want, but don’t set foot outside until daybreak.”

Fur was already sprouting on his back. He paused at the door as I called his name.

“Be careful. Please, for me?”

“You got it, love,” he replied, giving me a grin that bared a few too many sharp teeth before he sprinted out into the night, the door swinging shut behind him. I got off the bed and hurried to the window just in time to catch a glimpse of him being swallowed up by the shadows in the trees.

Since I’d fallen asleep last night and missed it, I was hoping to see the pack shift tonight. Watching Seth quick-shift didn’t hold the same majesty as watching the entire pack be taken by whatever it is in the phases of the moon that makes them all change at the same time. I’d seen the entire pack go through the process of turning into their half-man, half-wolf forms once before, but that had been in a dark alley when I was more afraid of being eaten or killed than interested in watching them change.

Though I watched for them, gaze darting over every shifting shadow between the cabins and the trees, I was disappointed when I heard a lone wolf howl grow into two, three, then dozens joining in chorus—somewhere deep in the woods. The pack had shifted far beyond my line of sight and moved well away from the cabins already. Probably for the best; I wasn’t the only one who could potentially be hurt by Ethan if he broke from the ranks and came charging back this way. With a guilty start, I recalled Billy and his playmate. If they carried the gene, they wouldn’t shift until puberty, so were at risk of being attacked. No doubt there must have been a few other humans who had come along to watch over the kids, though I hadn’t taken note of who they were in all the whirlwind introductions.

I waited by the window for a while, listening carefully for calls that would give me any hints as to the whereabouts of the pack. Since I couldn’t hear much of anything out there, I figured I’d brew a cup of coffee. By the time I was done with it, the caffeine infusion should keep me alert during my search, and the pack should be long gone, deep into the wilds.

Neither Chaz nor I had bothered to check the kitchen when we came in. There was a note on the counter just like the one that had been pinned to the door of our cabin yesterday morning. The thick scrawl was becoming annoyingly familiar, despite the odd spelling and weird words or acronyms they were using.



ATTN: THE THICK-SKULLED ASSHOLE IN CABIN 27





WE TOLD U TO GTFO! GO BACK TO THE CITY!





Well, this was a peachy development. I swept the paper aside and made my java, considering the implications of this latest note. I couldn’t recall seeing it when we came back from the woods, so someone had put it in the cabin between the time we left to pick up the pizza and when Chaz got shot with the arrow. Whoever this was either had access to the cabins or was among the group that had joined us after Chaz fought Seth, possibly leaving it on the counter on his or her way out. Could it be we had two separate threats to deal with—in addition to Seth and his lackeys? It was possible that one person or group was writing the childish, hostile notes, and another was resorting to violence using the silver-tipped arrow.

By the time I finished my coffee, put on a jacket, and crept outside, only one other cabin nearby still had lights on. I waited a few feet from the door, listening carefully for any large predator, or fifty, rustling through the underbrush, but there was nothing out of the ordinary I could detect other than the tentative chirp of a few late season crickets.

The lodge was a dark blur against the reflected lights from the parking lot on the other side, and I kept to the trail as I worked my way toward it. The tiny solar-powered lights that rimmed the trail didn’t do a lot to steady my nerves. The lights and moonlight flashing through the clouds above kept me from tripping on roots or walking into trees in the dark, but they made for deep, ominous shadows in which any beast of legend might crouch unseen in the underbrush.

I knew I really shouldn’t be doing this. I could get hurt by Ethan. I could get hurt by that Hawk guy. Hell, I could get hurt by falling and breaking my ass in the mud. However, I was worried about Chaz, and would do anything in my power to prevent anything else bad from happening to him. To accomplish that, we needed to find Hawk, track him down, and confront whatever his issue was so he’d leave us the hell alone.

So I crept out into the night, feeling like I was playing “secret agent man” all over again. I prayed this time I wouldn’t stumble into one of the pack, that I’d go unnoticed. So far, so good. There was nothing but the low burble of the creek and the smell of herbs and wood smoke on the chill night air. The boards of the bridge groaned a little under my weight, but otherwise I was pretty proud of my stealth.

When I tugged the lodge door, it opened easily. All of the lights in the lodge had been dimmed. Everyone but the shifters in the family must have gone to bed. There was enough light to make my way by, and I crept along as quietly as I could, straining to detect signs of anyone awake and moving around. Nothing.

When I reached the end of the hall, the dining area to my left was empty and dark. I peered very, very slowly and quietly around the edge of the doorway to my right, checking for anyone at the front desk. That room was also empty, only one light glowing by the front door. Somebody could’ve been hiding in the shadows, I suppose, but unless they were practicing their Navy SEAL moves, I’m pretty sure I was the only one creeping around like a dork in the dark.

There was a sign set up on the desk that directed RING BELL FOR ASSISTANCE, THANKS!—THE MANAGEMENT. No, thank you, I’ll just help myself.

I straightened and moved over to the desk, pleased to see that there was no computer, only a registry book under some papers. Thank God for technophobes. I opened it up and skimmed through the most recent entries. Mr. Cassidy must have put Chaz’s name down at some point after we’d first showed up, as I found his name neatly scrawled as the last guest to arrive. I was grateful to see the Cassidys meticulously filled in the name of one guest per cabin, probably the one paying the bill, followed by how many people were sharing the room, the date of arrival, and the date of departure. I skimmed over the list, noting the ones marked as having checked out.

After scanning over the columns, I came across the only one noted as having left the lodge yesterday. The writing was neat and concise, unmistakable. Howard Thomas + 2 guests, Cabin 3. Great. So our culprit was Howard Thomas or one of his guests. The registry didn’t make note of any addresses or phone numbers, and the records for whatever payment was accepted must have been kept somewhere else.

I put the book back and pulled open the desk drawers to see if they kept receipts or anything else up here. The only things I could find in the drawers were a lot of pens, Post-it Notes, manila folders with inventories and order forms for stuff in the dining hall and cabins, and lots of dust. Yuck. Nothing useful, nothing that gave me any more clues how to track down Howard Thomas.

Damn. It had been a long shot—most people aren’t trusting enough to leave anything related to business finances out in the open—but I’d really been hoping to find something up here. The full name was better than nothing. I’d call Sara in the morning and ask her to run a trace.

Just as I had carefully tidied up so nothing would look disturbed when the Cassidys came out in the morning, George’s voice drifted from the hallway opposite the dining area. As quietly as I could, I ducked back down, squeezing under the desk in hopes of going overlooked.

“… and they don’t know who you are. No, Pops kept quiet; he’s just really concerned you’re going to pull that cowboy shit again. Stay away until they’re gone, okay?”

What the hell was this?

“No, genius, they already suspect he’s covering for you. Stay out of sight until they’ve gone back to the city, okay?”

He listened to whatever the response was on the other end of the line and walked off somewhere, the sound of his voice fading and leaving me sitting on pins and needles waiting to see if he had stopped somewhere that he might spot me when I came out of hiding. He’d gone quiet, listening to the other end of the conversation, so I wasn’t sure exactly where he was.

Just as I was edging my way out from under the desk, I had to stifle a scream as something slammed down on the counter right above my head. George was right behind me, on the other side of the counter.

“What the hell do you think we’ve been doing? Look, that girl he’s dating—she said she was a P.I. Pops didn’t give your real name, but it’s only a matter of time before she starts nosing around and figures it out. Enough with this high school shit. Either stop dicking around and kill him or go back to the city until they’re gone.”

My heart was pounding so hard, I was positive George must be able to hear it echoing through the cavernous room. He laughed at whatever the response was, and the wood above me creaked as he put his weight on it, maybe leaning against it.

“Nah, I don’t want to go out there with that new blood they dragged with them. I’m going to bed in a few minutes. You coming over for the game next weekend?”

The rest of the conversation couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes but felt a lot longer, and had nothing to do with me, the Sunstrikers, or anything to do with the lodge. My heart gradually eased in my chest as they discussed mundane matters like the upcoming World Series. My money was on the Yankees, of course.

They talked long enough for cramps to settle into the arches of my feet and my lower back from staying crammed under the desk so long. Fear of discovery was enough to keep me absolutely still. After an age, George finally said good-bye and tossed the cordless phone on the counter. I had to stifle a gasp as it thunked across the wood over my head. He yawned and wandered off, his footsteps echoing in the quiet dark.

I waited longer than was probably necessary to make sure George wasn’t coming back. Staying low, I crept out from behind the desk, scanning the dimly lit room and hallways for any sign of company. Without taking the time to stretch out my cramped muscles, I rushed to the doors and ran out into the night, fleeing to my cabin.