The plane skimmed the tops of the trees and landed with a little bump, but it always did. Christan looked down at his clenched right hand, forcing himself back under control. The pilot slowed to a stop at the end of the grass and then taxied back toward the lodge.
As Christan jogged down the metal steps, the last rays of the blood-orange sun were fading from the sky. A storm gathered in a purple smudge, crowding the horizon. He tipped his head back. To return to the quiet of this wilderness was to return to a freedom he could not indulge. The need to shift and run was unbearable. But there was business to discuss, a girl missing in Florence. And an Enforcer he would soon need to kill.
“How was the meeting?” Arsen’s voice was quiet, but curious in his mind.
Christan answered telepathically. “Three has concerns. She sends us a thumb drive with her files.”
Arsen appeared beside him. Together, they walked away from the compound and into the hills where tall pines blocked out the sky. The path was more of an animal track through the grass and fern and led to a high vantage point. From one direction, it was possible to stand in an alpine meadow and see desolate Indian Country. In another direction, the jagged brown hills extended past Hells Canyon and into Idaho. Arsen walked ahead as they crossed a small creek and approached a grove of sharply scented pines. Beneath were the pale blue shadows of advancing twilight.
“It’s peaceful here,” Christan remarked after a moment, glancing toward the horizon. “I like the quiet.”
“An odd observation from you.”
“The world hasn’t changed.”
“You mean Three hasn’t changed.”
“As manipulative as ever.”
“You were always the avenger, Christan. Three might have identified the targets, but you never walked away when innocents were involved.”
“She asks for more.”
Christan remained silent when Arsen picked up a small stone, tossing it up and down in his palm before skimming it across the silvered creek.
“The first time I met you,” Arsen said, “before we became friends, I was in Lanzhou. We heard the rumors. A Calata member wanted an Enforcer to take him to the battle, but we knew it was more. I had to see for myself.”
Christan said nothing, staring instead at the smudge on the horizon that was now rimmed in dark blue.
“I remember thinking how arrogant you were,” Arsen continued. “I thought this guy is finally gonna get his ass kicked. And then you turned your back on Six and walked away. It was like you were impervious to anything he could do.”
Arsen picked up another stone, skimmed it across the water. The stone bounced twice and disappeared.
“I realized then that you understood power in a way no one else did. It was something I’ve never forgotten, how you held yourself separate, out of their reach. Six thought he’d won when he forced you to shift, but that dragon was on your terms. You gave him what he wanted, without giving him the most important thing. The ability you have to control your destiny.”
The story was an old one, told around too many battle fires in the middle of endless nights. It might have been who Christan was then. It wasn’t who he was now.
Arsen skimmed another stone, comfortable in the silence. Christan continued to stare at the horizon. The sun had dropped completely behind the gathering storm while the sky above was streaked with lavender and orange.
“She sent a file,” Christan said finally, looking at his second-in-command. “There’s a missing girl we need to find.”
“Someone we should care about?”
Christan nodded; once Arsen read the details in the file he’d figure it out. “She was last seen in Florence.”
“Your villa is still there. The caretakers have been loyal and don’t ask questions. When will you go?”
“Soon. You’ll want to be there.”
Arsen didn’t react. Perhaps he’d already guessed. “Anyone else?”
“It’s not settled yet.”
In the distance, a small figure jogged into view. She ran along the rim trail, sleek and balanced, reminding Christan so much of Gaia he stiffened. She was following the eight-mile path from the main lodge, out to the lake and back. There was a shortcut, but she preferred to push herself with the longer run. He lost her periodically when she disappeared into the trees.
“Is she still researching?” he asked.
“Ethan’s been planting clues. He didn’t expect her to catch on that quickly, but she did and now it’s their little game. She hasn’t done anything incriminating, no attempts to contact Kace, either through his sham business or other avenues. She spends a lot of time looking at an email account that never receives mail and studying photos of Cyrene.”
“You’ve been working with her,” Christan observed without expression, although it took more effort than he cared to admit.
“She wants to learn to fight.”
“Is she any good?”
“She’s in better shape than you think. Nice muscle tone, moves like a dancer. Put me on my ass today.” The figure disappeared behind a grove of purple pines and reappeared again. “She’s not Gemma.”
“I know that.” But he couldn’t separate them in his mind.
“Maybe you misjudged her,” Arsen said after a moment.
“Your point being?”
“You never got the truth that night. But even if you’re right and she did everything you believe she did, Lexi isn’t Gemma.”
“Says the man who’s had the same fight with the same woman over how many centuries?”
“We’re not talking about my woman, we’re talking about yours. You gave her that one word.”
“And she used it.”
“Because you terrified her. That’s not like you, Christan, going into her mind so aggressively. Did the Void do more damage than you’ve let on?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then why try to twist her emotions?”
“She worked for him, was there in Montana. She was with him in the rocks.”
“She didn’t know who he was then, and she does now.”
“I can’t trust her.”
“You haven’t tried.”
“She’s too much like Gemma.”
“Different girl,” Arsen said. “Different life.”
“She’s stubborn, difficult. Completely unreasonable.”
“And now you’re just looking for excuses.”
“For what?”
“To keep hating her.”
The distant figure disappeared into the growing mist.
CHAPTER 16
Twenty minutes later, Christan lay prone on the rock. He’d been unsettled after his talk with Arsen and the rock was his favorite place to meditate. His massive bulk was relaxed, yet every nerve alert. He was most at home as a predator. He could think more clearly, without the distraction of human emotion, and while most warriors would shift for a few hours, he could remain in an alternative form for an entire day.
When Christan did shift, it was into any animal he desired. But he preferred the big cat known as the puma—the American panther. The size he utilized was larger than the natural species; his five-foot body was currently sprawled across the boulder, while the long tail, tipped in dark brown, extended another three feet. His eyes remained obsidian but surrounded with gold, distinctly cat-like. His body was the color of the dusk, his stillness the calculation of the hunter.
And he watched her.
She didn’t see him, but she suspected he was there. The closer she got to his position the more frequently she stopped, glanced carefully around, and then bent to press both hands into the ground. If she sensed anything at all, it would seem like the normal environment. Christan was masking his energy, from both friend and foe alike. But it was foolish to be out at dusk—surely Arsen had warned of the dangers. And yet here she was, stubbornly jogging alone.
It irritated him.