Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Alistair
Anyway, all my hard work didn’t seem to make Aidan any happier about getting up so early and going to sit in the bathroom, but I’ve called him a few times since, and he seems to be over his snit.
Either that, or he’s trying to lull me into a false sense of security so he can mete out his revenge.
I’m not completely against that idea; there are a lot of possibilities for revenge sex.
I’m getting close to the Beker County line now, which means I have to be on full alert.
The front windows are both open halfway.
Ideally, I’d like to have all four fully open to catch any hint of scent that might be in the air, but it’s fucking cold out there, and four open windows might attract attention.
I’ve already stopped and filled the gas tank, so if I end up being noticed by the wrong people, I won’t have to worry about running out as I flee—not until I’m nearly back to Portland, anyway, and by then the enforcement backup unit in Seattle will have choppered in.
I drive past the outskirts of the tiny barely-town that sits right outside the border of Beker County and brace myself.
Intellectually, I know the county line is probably meaningless in these circumstances and that it’s likely there are some of Tish’s people living on this side of the border, so to speak, but it’s symbolic, and we hellhounds love symbols.
So, hey, considering that most of the people I’m concerned about are hellhounds, they just might respect the symbolism of the county line and stay within it.
I maintain a steady speed. The highway isn’t busy, but there are enough other cars around that people will notice if I slow down drastically.
I don’t need to, anyway. The wind is light but blowing steadily from the southeast as I drive down from the northern part of the county, and the smell of hellhounds grows stronger.
It’s multilayered in a way that clearly tells me there are many hellhounds living in this general area and they have been for a long time.
The concentration of scent is so complex that without stopping and spending a lot of time deciphering it, I can’t easily tell the breakdown of age groups and sex. That fits with what we expected.
I hit the Bluetooth receiver in my ear—which I need to remember to put in my pocket before I get out of the car—and call Sam.
“Hey. You there?”
“Starting to pick up scents just a couple miles within the county lines. If there are hellhounds living outside that area, they’re in small numbers and spread out enough that I’d need to scout on foot to find them.”
“Any surprises?”
“Not yet. No specific individual scents yet, either, but I can definitely tell you that the three hellhounds who took Noah from the office are from a family group here. There are enough scent markers for that to be clear.”
He sighs. “Well, I guess it’s good to have confirmation. You’re going to stay on the line now, right?”
I hesitate, but while the fifteen-year-old truck doesn’t have a charger jack for my phone, it does have a cigarette lighter, and being the ex-special forces superhero I am, I came prepared with an old-fashioned converter. There’s no reason I shouldn’t stay on the line and every reason why I should.
“Yeah, but mute or something, would you? I don’t want to be distracted by background noise.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just imply I would distract you,” he says. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”
“Check in with Aidan for me, will you? It’s been about an hour since I spoke with him.
” The scent of hellhound is strengthening as I approach the outskirts of Beker City, but in a way that tells me the concentration of scent is getting closer, rather than it being carried by the wind.
That’s good—it allows me to pick up individual scent threads more clearly.
“I just spoke to him a few minutes ago,” Sam assures me. “We talked about keeping a line open but decided to wait and see what happened with you.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sammy.”
The line seems to go dead, but a sideways glance at my handset in the center console assures me Sam’s just muted his end. I turn my full concentration to driving and smelling.
My goal today is to try to identify and locate the scent of Tish and/or the elves. That’s my primary focus. All other smells are going into a memory bank to be sorted out later.
More and more houses start to pop up as I reach the outskirts of town, and I slow down in accordance with the speed signs. That’s to my advantage—the slower I go, the more I’ll be able to smell. I’ve spotted a few people so far, but none of them were hellhounds.
On impulse, I leave the highway. If I’m remembering right, this road becomes the main street of town, then loops to meet the highway again. I’m going to smell more on the town’s arterial road than on a highway that cuts through an industrial area.
I slow again as I enter the town proper and cruise along.
Despite the cold, it’s a lovely clear day, and there are plenty of people out and about.
Mostly humans, but enough hellhounds are mingling around to tell me that they’re not just hiding in the woods—they’re an active part of the town.
That seems a little contradictory to me, given Tish and the CCA’s goal was to enslave humanity.
On the flip side, humans have been enslaving each other for millennia, so it’s possible Tish thinks he can get a select group of humans to support him and subjugate the rest. I mentally file the idea away to run past the others later.
A hint of scent teases my nostrils. Tish.
I’m sure of it. I may not have ever met the man, but his scent was all over Sam when we rescued him and Noah from the labs, and then again in the office when Noah was taken.
I’m the supreme snifferoo, remember? There’s no way I’ve miscategorized that particular smell.
If only it were stronger. He’s been here recently, maybe even this morning, but he’s not here now.
It’s coming from up ahead—not too far. Maybe a block or two.
Interestingly, there’s a strong concentration of hellhound scent in the same general area, concentrated enough that I can clearly identify half a dozen or so individuals.
I don’t know who they are, but I would if I met them again.
I slow to a stop at a red light and decide to do some preemptive research.
“Sammy?” I pitch my voice low enough that even a shifter could only hear me if they were in the truck.
There’s a second’s pause, then the line unmutes. “Yeah? You okay?”
“Yep. I’m coming up on a spot where the same few hellhounds seem to hang out regularly—I’d say almost every day, based on the scent layering, and they’ve been doing it for a while. I think Tish has been there too. It might be a business they own or something. Could you look—”
“No problem. Just tell me the street number or the store name, and I can find out who owns it,” Sam assures me.
“Great,” I say, taking my foot off the brake as the light changes. “I’ll be passing it in just a second, so—” I almost slam my foot back on the brake as shock reverberates through me.
“Alistair?”
“Ah…” I force myself not to turn my head and stare, not to slow down or anything else that might look unusual. “Yeah. Sam, what do you know about human local government?”
“Local government?” he parrots.
“The building was the Beker City City Hall. That’s local government, isn’t it?”
“Fuck. Hold on, let me…” I hear the fast and furious click of his keyboard, then his voice asking someone else to bring up the community census data for the county and search some names.
I keep focused on taking in every scent I can.
Even though I’m quite a bit past city hall now, Tish’s scent still lingers, which means he probably spent a bit of time in this area.
It’s mostly a shopping area, but there are some business storefronts too.
The smell of hellhounds is layered in naturally amongst the human scent, suggesting that quite a few of these businesses might be hellhound-owned.
Don’t get me wrong, we own businesses. But in smaller communities, where there’s a finite number of businesses and our population is limited compared to humans, we tend not to. It comes down to percentages, and most hellhounds who live in a rural area like this prefer the outskirts anyway.
“Alistair?”
“Yeah, Sam, I’m here. Still smelling a lot more hellhound in the center of town than I expected. A few cats too, some sorcerers and demons, but not as many and not as saturated.”
“Tish?” There’s a lot of tension in Sam’s voice.
“He’s definitely been here very recently, and at a guess, I’d say he’s spent a few days in and out of town. Not in town right now; at least not this part.”
“What about the elves?”
“No sign.” That frustrates me, but logically I shouldn’t expect any of them to be in the town center.
Based on Noah’s description of the one he saw, there’s no way they could pass for human.
We don’t know if their magic-slash-sorcery would allow for them to disguise themselves, so while I’m sniffing for them anyway, it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re sticking to community-only properties.
Since they can use their portals for travel, it narrows the chances of me picking up a scent trail.
“Okay, well you were right about city hall. We just ran a search, and it seems the local mayor is a hellhound.”