Chapter 15 #2
Leonie surveyed the split. It was too small for someone Shan’s size, but the average adult would be able to slip through, if they were willing to get a little dirty.
“I’ll check it out.” She dropped to all fours. “Move over and get ready to pass me the light.”
This would be easier in her shift form. She drew on her lion, and the world sprang back into sharp definition, her feline eyes far better adapted to the night than her human ones. She tested the gap in the trunk with her whiskers, then flowed through easily, dead bark brushing against her flanks.
It was surprisingly roomy inside the dead tree, though still a tight fit for a full-grown female lion. She shifted back to human shape, straightening. Without being asked, Shan put his arm through the split trunk to pass her the phone. She swept the flashlight around, eyes adjusting to the dimness.
“Huh,” she muttered to herself, her voice echoing in the confines of the space. “That’s weird.”
“What is?”
“The trunk is worn smooth on this side. Like it’s been polished. And there’s no dirt or decaying wood at the bottom. Just dry leaves. Shan, I think something made a nest in here.”
“Wood and dry leaves,” Shan murmured, as if to himself. “The same scents Claire detected. Can you see anything else?”
Leonie panned her light across the ground, and a glint caught her eye. Squatting, she brushed leaves aside until she could see what was underneath.
She sat back on her heels, staring. “Shan?”
“Yes?”
“Do ghosts eat Twinkies?”
A pause. “Not as far as I’m aware.”
“Well, this one does.” She picked up one of the plastic-wrapped cakes, examining it. “There’s a whole stash of them in here. And some other stuff, too. Hold on, I’ll pass it all out to you.”
The baffled silence outside the tree deepened with every item she handed through the split. When she crawled out herself, she found Shan regarding the neat line of objects with a distinctly nonplussed expression.
She joined him, brushing off her hands. “Either we’re dealing with a kleptomaniac poltergeist, or someone’s been living rough out here.”
He picked up a ripped pair of boxers. “A man, I presume.”
“Or just someone with a taste for comfortable underwear.” Leonie frowned as she realized something. “Hang on. They’re all different. No matching sets.”
Shan rubbed the worn material thoughtfully between his fingertips. “As if they were acquired at different times. Hmm.”
“Paige did say the sheriff was concerned about a spate of recent thefts. That’s what you were here to investigate before, right?”
Shan nodded in confirmation. “Food and clothing, according to the reports. Primarily male underwear. That’s one of the reasons the sheriff contacted us. He thought a shifter might be responsible, given the nature of the stolen items.”
“Why would a shifter keep getting caught without pants? I mean, once or twice, maybe. But…” Leonie did a quick count. “Six times?”
“Perhaps someone with very poor control of their animal.” Shan looked at the cloth in his hand, and a slightly pained expression crossed his face. “If any of these garments have been worn recently, there may still be some scent.”
“Oh, no.” Leonie took a step backward, folding her arms. “I crawled into the spooky dead tree. You get to sniff the boxers.”
Shan sighed. He turned his back on her before shifting. His striped wings half-spread, blocking her view. That was understandable. If she’d had to stick her nose in a pile of possibly used underpants, she wouldn’t have wanted anyone watching, either.
The tiger took a few deep huffing breaths. Then Shan was human again, shaking his head.
“No good,” he said. “They’ve been outside for too long. I can only smell wood and leaves.”
“Well, I suppose it’s not like we could go around sniffing people’s butts, anyway.
If we even knew where to look.” Leonie picked up a Twinkie.
“These can’t have been out for too long.
Even with the plastic wrapping, some animal should have smelled them.
We’re always having to remind the kids to be careful with food around the camp.
A racoon will chew through a cooler to get at a left-over granola bar. ”
“And yet these were lying on the ground, barely concealed.” Shan rubbed his chin. “That may indicate whoever left them expected to return shortly.”
“Which would mean they’re still in the area.” Something else occurred to her. “Hey. You know what else isn’t here? Any kind of light source.”
Shan’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed. Interesting.”
“Maybe our ‘ghost’ took it with him.” Leonie nudged a threadbare blanket with her foot. “But if he’s a shifter, why would he be running around at night with a flashlight rather than in his animal form?”
Shan’s jaw tightened. “I am more concerned about what is he doing here at all.”
That had been worrying her as well. By all accounts, the ‘ghost’ had seemed benign. But the thought of an unknown person near the kids had phantom fur prickling all down her spine. If she’d been in lion form, her tail would have been lashing.
“Let’s look around some more,” she suggested. “Maybe we can pick up a trail.”
Shan nodded. “We’ll be more effective if we split up. See what you can smell. I’ll do a sweep, looking for any lights nearby.”
She shifted, padding into the forest. Behind her, she heard the rustle of wings as Shan took to the air.
In her head, her lioness growled. We should be hunting together, side by side. Not him up there and us down here.
Privately, Leonie shared her animal’s opinion. She would have liked to have Shan on the ground with her, sharing the wordless communion of a pride following prey. But she supposed tigers were solitary hunters. And he’d be able to see more from the sky.
But he wouldn’t be able to pick up scents like she could with her nose closer to the ground. Letting instinct take over, she prowled between the trees, every sense on high alert.
Alder-in-Winter had been here. Unicorns were hard to track, light-footed as they were, but she kept picking up the faintest traces of him, almost hidden under the similar smells of leaf and earth.
If she hadn’t been actively searching, with his personal scent fresh in her mind, she wouldn’t have detected it at all.
He didn’t seem to have been near the dead tree itself, though. The faded, crisscrossing trails skirted the clearing, never emerging from under the trees. They spread out into the forest like an invisible spiderweb.
Sniffing carefully, she tried to form a mental picture of the unicorn’s movements. He’d repeatedly traveled to this area, that much was clear. But to do what? Stand and stare at a dead tree, and then go away again?
A whisper of sound made her tense—but it was only an owl landing on a nearby branch. The bird swiveled its head, staring directly at her. It hooted, once.
Probably trying to figure out what I am. She relaxed, trying to convey calm indifference. Go away, bird. I’m too big to eat, and I don’t want to eat you. Nothing to see here.
Instead of losing interest, the owl hooted again. A second owl swooped out of the dark, landing on a tree opposite the first one. In unison, both feathered heads turned, pinning her with identical stares.
Okay. That’s not creepy at all.
But that was just letting her imagination run away with her. No doubt the owls were just a breeding pair, unsettled by the presence of a predator near their nest. She’d just back away quietly, and—
Even as she started to lift a paw, a third owl joined the first two. Then a fourth, and a fifth. She found herself surrounded by a ring of round orange eyes, all fixed on her with unblinking attention.
Sometimes when I’m out in the woods, it doesn’t feel right. Rufus’s mental voice echoed in her memory. The animals. The birds. They’re not alarmed, but they don’t move like they should. Like something else is there, too. Watching through their eyes.
Fur rose along her spine. With an effort, she kept her breathing slow and measured. She let her animal side take control, trusting predator instinct over human thought. Barely moving, she scanned her surroundings, searching for anything out of place.
There!
She couldn’t have said how she knew. The tremble of a leaf; a brush of air against her whiskers. She moved without thought, lunging for a particular patch of shadowy undergrowth.
Light exploded in her face.
Blinded, she recoiled, only for something to swoop at her from behind. The air was abruptly full of feathers and angry screeching, owls mobbing her from every side. Dazed and disorientated, she leaped, instinctively trying to get away.
Gravity yanked her back down. She landed badly, all her weight slamming onto one ankle. Pain shot up her back leg. She couldn’t see, couldn’t fight, couldn’t fly—
“Leonie! Leonie!”
Even lost to panic, she knew that voice. She stilled, panting.
“It’s all right.” Shan’s gloved hand stroked her flank. “I’m here. You’re safe. Can you shift?”
Taking a deep breath, she pushed down the flood of hurtpanicfightflee until her lioness settled back into her soul. Wincing, she sat up, blinking to try to clear her vision. “Did you see it?”
“Not clearly.” She still couldn’t see Shan, but she could feel him supporting her, his arm around her shoulder. “Just a pale blur, moving fast. It’s gone now.”
Her ankle felt like it was on fire. “You should go after it.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Shan’s tone did not leave room for argument. “Are you hurt?”
“Just my ankle.” For all their furious screeching, the owls hadn’t actually touched her. She cautiously flexed her foot, biting her lip at the jolt of pain. “I landed on it badly.”
“Don’t move,” he ordered, laying her back down. “Let me see.”
His gloved hand slid down her bare calf, finding her hiking boot. She felt him fumble with the laces, trying to undo the double knots. With a muttered curse, he yanked off his right glove, thrusting it into his pocket. Gently, he loosened her boot, sliding it off her foot.
“I don’t think it’s broken,” he said, fingertips exploring her ankle. “But we should keep it immobile, just in case. I’ll find a...”
He froze, staring down.
“Shan?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. Her night vision was still wrecked from the weird flare of light, so she couldn’t make out much more than his silhouette. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He stood, thrusting his right hand into his pocket. “I’m going to find a stick for a splint. Then I’ll carry you back to camp.”
“You don’t have to do that. It doesn’t hurt much now.”
Shan gave her a level look through his sunglasses. “Leonie.”
She sighed. “Okay, okay. It hurts like a motherlover. But I’ve got three other legs. I’m sure I can manage to limp back to camp on my own. You should stay here to follow the trail while it’s fresh.”
“I am not leaving you,” Shan repeated, more emphatically. “I’ll fly you home and come back afterward.”
“But it could be gone by then. Whatever that was, it knows we’re looking for it now, Shan.”
His gloved hand clenched. She abruptly realized that, for all his apparent calm, he was very, very angry.
“I will find it,” he said, and his voice was a tiger’s low growl. “I promise.”