Chapter 37 Tash #2
Damon circled the yard perimeter, methodical as a bloodhound, eyes flicking over every divot and scrap of evidence.
The bodies weren't moving, but I couldn't take my own advice and stay away.
The nearest man, face mashed into the dirt, blood pooling at the ear, was William. I knelt, maybe five feet back. The world spun, but not because of the blood. It was the look on his face, as though he was saying, “What the fuck happened, and why am I so dead?” The bastard wasn’t smirking anymore.
I wanted to puke. But then I thought of my girls, and the feeling twisted into something ugly and sweet at the same time.
Chance drifted closer, said nothing. He just watched me.
I made myself look, then I stood up and backed away, not trusting my knees.
A phone started warbling inside the cabin.
The sound set every hair on my neck up, like we'd just tripped someone's last defense.
Chance was first up the busted steps. He scooped the phone from the battered side table inside the door, and checked the glowing screen.
"Amy from High School," he read, voice dry as ash.
He squinted at the contact, then held the phone up for Xavier to see. "It’s mom's number."
"Cute," Xavier muttered. "This hunter hid Aunt Livia's number as a decoy."
I asked anyway, "So where's this Kira?"
Damon's laugh was short and mean. "Evan got here first."
I ignored him.
The phone kept buzzing. Chance powered it off and pocketed it.
Damon grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped the doorknob, not bothering to explain.
"Evan and Kira aren't here.” Xavier pointed with his chin at the carnage.
"Evan must have caught them setting up a mint perimeter.
They were strung out right here, prepping for a takedown, it looks like.
They only got off one shot, through the porch.
The rest appears to be hand-to-hand. My guess is Hanlon tried to use the SUV as a shield.
Didn't work. We’re going to have to cover this up.
We need to make it look ugly, but not supernatural.
It looks like the gas line's a little loose.
Once we torch it, all this will go boom, and nobody will know hunters fought a dragon here. "
"Neighbors?" I asked.
"Nothing for miles. Even if the sheriff dispatch gets a call, it'll just be us and the cleanup crew."
Chance absorbed that. Then he turned to Damon. "You good?"
Damon bared his teeth, more wolf than dragon for a second. "Peachy."
They did the forearm clasp, grab, flex, mutual backslap, like they'd just finished a playoff game. I rolled my eyes so hard I saw stars.
"Before this goes up, I want to track Evan's scent," Xavier said, always the tactician. "Tash, you want to learn something new?"
Cue a fresh wave of panic, but curiosity overruled.
He beckoned me over to the edge of the yard, then dropped to a crouch. "You need to learn to separate the traces. Here. Get low. Breathe through your nose, not your mouth. The mint is a mask, but it never covers completely."
The world at dirt-level was a mess of impressions.
Mint was fucking everywhere, making my brain want to bail.
Underneath, though, I caught something else, a whiff of singed cloth, a high, acrid tang that might have been adrenaline.
Then, lower, a melody of earth and wood smoke. Not William, not Chance.
Evan.
It was subtle at first. I had to roll the idea around, let Taryn toy with it. She picked up quickly, like the difference between cinnamon and nutmeg. Not huge, but if you paid attention, you'd never confuse them.
Xavier nodded, as if he could see the epiphany ignite. "That's it. Each dragon leaves a print. Evan's is spice based. Not floral, sharper. If you get past the mint, you'll find it deeper in the grass."
I followed, crouched and nose to ground, a full-grown woman reduced to wild-animal tactics. But it worked. After a few tries, the mint became background noise. I trailed the scent from the back step, across a patch of trampled ferns, into the thicket behind the shed.
Xavier shadowed me, not speaking.
Chance and Damon hung by the SUV, watching.
The Evan trail doubled back twice, then split. One way uphill, another cut along the creek bed. I pointed that out, and Xavier grunted approval.
"He's making us work for it. Smart."
Another trace was lighter, laced with a hint of lavender. Kira. It laced over the same track, but cooler, cleaner. Barely scented at all, but there. I locked it in my head, sure I could pick it out next time.
By the fourth loop, I was sweating, dizzy from the overload.
I straightened, dusted my knees, and tried not to puke.
"You got it?" Xavier asked.
"Yeah. I think so."
He grinned. "Fast learner."
I knelt again by William's body. The science side of me kept expecting to flinch, but I didn't. Not this time.
He was gone. So was his buddy, the one with the nose job gone bad. The threat was over.
I should've been wracked. Should've been destroyed.
But instead, I looked at their faces, at the slack jaws and blood-stamped shirts, and the only thing I could think was, good. Let that be a warning.
Nobody hurts my girls.
Nobody gets to turn me into prey and walks away.
If I have to learn to wear this dragon skin, if I have to help mop up a murder scene or torch a cabin to protect my own, so be it.
Chance hovered, but didn't crowd. I could tell he wanted to wrap me up, but he kept his distance, letting me process.
For that, I loved him.