He began to breathe deeply, pulling air into his lungs, forcing himself to sort out odors. He processed them for a long time before he found what had instinctively troubled him. The faint but unmistakable odor of Faerie.
Not strong at all; barely discernible. He glanced again at the map, which was marked with mountains, rivers, valleys, farms, towns. He knew a ley line ran alongside Shiftertown—a ley line was a sort of magical artery of a network that stretched around the globe, near which magic was enhanced and gateways to Faerie could be found. If Bowman was right, that same ley line snaked down to cross near here.
The scent didn’t come from Turner. Bowman surreptitiously inhaled when the man came back to refill their cups. Nope, Turner was human. He was not half Fae; not even one quarter. Anyone with Fae blood had a distinctive odor.
A Fae might have been here though. While Fae had difficulty in the human world, with all its iron, Bowman had heard that they could take magical precautions against iron poisoning. But even then, their spells didn’t last long.
Not that Bowman knew a lot about the Fae. He had experts like Pierce for that information, and he tried to think about Faerie and the Fae as little as possible.
He exchanged another glance with Kenzie, but she gave him a slight shake of her head and looked up at Turner again.
“This book on Shifters,” she said. “I’d love to read what you have so far.”
Turner flushed with sudden pleasure. “Really? I’m flattered. Would you? And maybe . . . give me some pointers? I want to get it right.”
“Happy to,” Kenzie said. “Do you have a copy I can take with me?”
“Why not read it right here?” Turner asked, giving her a hopeful smile. “While you enjoy some more coffee and stay warm?”
“I’m afraid we should be going,” Kenzie said, shaking her head. “Our son will be worried, plus we should report the shooter.”
“It’s still pretty dark,” Turner pointed out. “Dangerous out there until full daylight. And as I say, I’ll give you a lift.”
He returned to the kitchen without noticing the two Shifters’ discomfort. “Do you think he’s harmless?” Kenzie whispered into Bowman’s ear. “Or not?”
Bowman liked the way Kenzie’s breath tickled him, but he didn’t know how to answer.
Kenzie quietly put her coffee aside and moved to the front door. She stopped, stymied, and pointed at the keypad that took the place of a doorknob. There was no other latch, bolt, or keyhole; no other way to open the door.
“Oh, that has a code,” Turner said, coming back out of the kitchen. “Keeps squatters out when I’m not here.”
“What about the windows?” Bowman asked. “They don’t look very sturdy.”
“Looks are deceiving.” Turner smiled. “They’re wired to give an intruder a nasty shock when the alarm is on.”
“You booby-trapped your own house?” Kenzie asked him, still at the door.
“You’d be amazed at the people who come out here,” Turner said, with a quiet sigh of disapproval. “Drug dealers and pot growers, gangs, people trying to hide from the law. Or just hunters. After someone trashed the place once, I got wise.”
“Why do you come out here?” Kenzie asked. “If it’s so dangerous?”
He shrugged. “I like the quiet. I can think better. My dad left this house to me, and the property—why should I give it up because of scum like that? Besides, when I’m here, I can visualize how it used to be for Shifters in the wild. You lived pretty close to the bone, didn’t you?”
Kenzie had, in Eastern Europe. Bowman’s pack, which had lived north of the Great Lakes, had been hunted, first by Native Americans, then by colonials.
“Yes,” Bowman said.
“Ever miss it?”
Bowman shook his head, his look deadpan. “I like indoor plumbing.”
Turner laughed. “So captivity is better?”
“I didn’t say that. But we almost died in the wild. Our females stopped having many cubs. Now everyone is healthier, and more cubs are born.”
“But you and Kenzie just have the one?” Turner asked.
Bowman saw the pain on Kenzie’s face, and his voice turned to a growl. “Yes.”
Turner continued, not noticing the warning. “But maybe if you’d all remained in the wild, she might have been infertile altogether. So you’re right, you have benefited.”
“How about you stop talking and open the door?” Bowman suggested. He rose, putting his bulk between Turner and Kenzie. “Enjoyed the coffee. Now it’s time to go home.”
Turner looked blank. “Sure, if you truly have to. Let me by so I can put in the code. Before you go, though, I want to fix up a time to talk to you, Kenzie. You can come back here, or if you’ll let me go to Shiftertown . . . ?”
“We’ll discuss it.” Bowman stepped aside and pulled Kenzie next him.