9—Snake in the Grass
Dallas drove to the BBOC and used the map Maze had drawn him to find Wolf’s Keep, which turned out to be a boulder that looked like a howling wolf if you squinted at it from a certain distance.
The hike was easy, with few roots and rough spots to trip him up.
He jogged down a trail, familiarizing himself with the scents of the area, and came around a turn, scenting someone.
He slowed and spied Thorn in a small clearing fifty feet away.
The male’s face was turned directly into the sun, his eyes closed.
He leaned against a boulder, smiling into the sun.
He was dressed stylishly, looking out of place in the forest, wearing chinos and a blue button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up.
He wore hiking boots, but they were definitely brand new.
Dallas scoffed. This fucking city boy was going to get his ass lost. Maze should have had him meet them at the BBOC.
A small, red stone hung suspended from a leather string around Thorn’s neck, clashing with the rest of his outfit. Dallas’ eyes were drawn to it… until he noticed Thorn’s neck and arms were still scratched up from last night.
Holy shit, was bro even a shifter?
Dallas backed off and returned to the meeting place.
Just in time, a red-tailed hawk fluttered in, then grew mid-air into a man, coming down feet-first. He hit the ground, rolling back up in a graceful somersault.
His clothes were on, but his boots were untied, and the left one had come partially off with the impact.
Maze tied his boots, then stood to clasp hands with Dallas.
Dallas pointed over his shoulder. “He’s back there. He hasn’t shifted. He’s still all scratched up.”
“The fuck?” Maze said.
Dallas lowered his voice. “Is he a shifter or what?”
Maze lowered his voice, also. “He’s got an animal scent. He must be.”
“Shit.” Dallas spat in the dirt. “Ready?”
“Yeah. What if I fly in and you can watch his reaction?”
“Good plan.”
Maze took two running steps, his boots thudding in the dirt, then he jumped and shifted into a hawk, screeching a bloodcurdling cry and shooting into the air.
Dallas jogged down the path, laughing softly. All birds were showoffs.
Dallas came to the clearing and walked in steadily, eyes on Thorn, who hadn’t moved, except now his sleeves were rolled down. Thorn stood tall and watched Dallas as he came close. They shook hands.
“How’d it go last night?” Dallas asked.
Thorn looked down his nose and spoke like he had a giant stick up his ass. “It went as well as could be hoped. The hospital director is a fraternity brother of mine. I convinced him to give all the women private rooms and guards, so they’d feel safe. I paid for it,” he said, lifting his chin.
Dallas nodded, impressed. “That was good of you,” he said.
Thorn nodded once, seeming pleased.
Dallas spied two scratches on Thorn’s neck that the shirt collar didn’t cover. “You haven’t shifted,” he said. “How come?”
Thorn stiffened and backed away. He didn’t answer. Awkward.
Dallas still couldn’t place his scent… it almost reminded him of an old Navy buddy’s pet bearded dragon; cold-blooded and all instinct. Something dark and hidden, but strangely bittersweet, like blackstrap molasses.
Maze dropped in, on the other side of the rock with a dinosaur cry, shifting in mid-air again. This time his belt hung loose. He fixed it, calm and laid back, like it didn’t matter at all.
Maze grinned at Thorn. “Hey, man.”
“Hey,” Thorn said, one hand going to the rock tied around his neck. He watched Maze fix his belt, then said. “Why’d your belt come loose? My clothing spell works perfectly every time.”
“You have an everweft spell?” Maze asked.
“From who?” Dallas demanded.
“Whom,” Thorn corrected, drawing the word out.
Dallas laughed. “Whatever, Einstein, who put the fucking everweft on you?”
Thorn shook his head. “Is that what it’s called?”
Dallas knew Jameson wouldn’t want them spilling switch secrets. He countered with a question. “Where’d you get it?”
Thorn didn’t answer for a moment, then said, “New Orleans.”
Interesting. Dallas had first shifted in New Orleans, and he’d later learned there’d been vampires somewhere close by and the scent of them was what had caused it.
“Who gave it to you?” he asked Thorn.
Thorn dropped his hand. He stepped backwards, again looking like he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, “Mama Soline. She’s a-ah voodoo priestess and she’s ah… famous in New Orleans.”
Dallas and Maze met eyes. Could Mama Soline be a switch?
Thorn fiddled with the piece at his neck again. “It cost me five hundred dollars and a lock of hair.”
“Let’s see you shift,” Dallas said.
Thorn leaned against the rock and turned his face to the sun. “Nah.”
“Where’re you from?” Dallas asked.
“Where’re you from?” Thorn asked back. “How long have you been working with witches?”
Dallas shrugged. “Here and there. A while.”
Maze stepped close. “What kind of animal are you?”
Thorn didn’t answer, and he seemed to be close to bolting. His fists were clenched, and he threw a few glances at the trails leading away.
Maze put up his hands. “You want to join ‘The Cause,’ right?” he asked. “You feel the pull, just like we do.”
Still Thorn didn’t answer.
Maze’s expression turned hard. “Are you even a shifter?” he sneered.
Thorn pulled himself up to his full height, standing taller than Maze. “Knock it off,” he said.
Maze took a step back, seeming confused, but then his expression relaxed again.
Thorn pressed forward and asked a question. “What happened in the caves when you went in?”
Dallas watched Maze, unsure what was going on. Maze’s voice sounded stressed as he said, “We fought vampires.”
Thorn’s eyes went wide. “What were they going to do with those women?”
Maze’s jaw hardened. “Feed from them.”
Thorn paced, shaking his head, pounding one fist into the other.
“What’s ‘The Cause’ got to do with it?” Thorn almost yelled. “What’s their goal?”
“Fill the covens with switches. Win the war,” Maze said, his voice monotone.
Thorn’s mouth twisted. “Covens? What—”
Dallas shoulder-checked Maze, throwing him shut-the-fuck-up death glares. They were supposed to be figuring Thorn out, not him figuring them out.
A noise in the bushes drew their attention.
A reddish-brown snake with a triangular pattern on its back slithered out of the undergrowth, straight toward them with its head up. Dallas jumped back, spooked.
Maze pulled a knife out of his pocket, flicked it open, and whipped it at the snake, pinning it to the ground by its head, appearing to kill it instantly.
Thorn burst toward Maze, fists up. “What the fuck? It wasn’t going to hurt you!”
Thorn swung at Maze, Maze dodged it. Thorn moved past Maze on the follow-through and disappeared down a trail.
Dallas looked at Maze and Maze stared at Dallas.
Maze hooked a thumb in the direction Thorn had gone, shrugging. “Maybe he’s vegan.”
“Bro,” Dallas said.
Maze stepped on the snake, yanked his knife out and wiped it in the grass, then he swiped it clean on his pants and put it away. He stomped on the snake’s head over and over again until it was mush, growling, “I fucking hate snakes.”
“Me fucking too,” Dallas said. “But what the fuck, bro?”
“What?” Maze challenged. “You’re not glad it’s dead?”
“Damn right I’m glad it’s dead but why’d you tell Thorn all that shit?”
Maze shrugged, his scent shifting for a moment, telling Dallas he was unsure, then he crouched, examining the snake. “Ah crap. I thought it was a copperhead which is deadly to shifters, but it’s a corn snake. Harmless.” He kicked the thing into the bushes. “Why’d it rush us?”
Movement in the bushes caught their attention. Maze backed away, his eyes on the spot. Dallas stared, too, ready to bolt if it was like, a den of snakes or something, come for revenge.
Pink glowed in the bushes, then it deepened to magenta, shaking the forest, making it look like a fairy world.
Air moved past them like a tornado, whipping leaves and twigs and a woman stepped out from behind a tree ahead, directly from the center of the light.
She wore a dress made of pale leather, woven through with beads.
At her waist was a leather belt, weighed down by primitive-looking knives and arrowheads.
Her wild black hair had acorns and small rocks tangled in it.
“Warrior Woman,” Maze breathed, sounding awed. “She’s a switch, and a-a myth, or that’s what I heard.”
“She looks real,” Dallas gasped out over the humming in his gut. Being so close to her was like being next to a live wire.
She had no scent. She drew close to Dallas with her eyes locked on his.
Maze backed away. Dallas felt like kneeling, like he was standing before royalty.
Warrior Woman stopped and held out her hand to Dallas, revealing a notched ring of flat leather, like the cuff to a shirt sleeve, covered with strange symbols.
She grinned at Dallas, then flicked her wrist, and the cuff somersaulted through the air. Dallas reached out and grabbed it, then examined it.
Warrior Woman stared, her eyes fixed on Dallas’ like she was trying to mind-meld with him. Dallas stared back. Her lips moved, but no words came out. All Dallas heard was rushing water.
Maze reached for it. “Lemme see.”
Warrior Woman screamed soundlessly and pointed at Maze, blasting him with pink energy. It hit Maze and turned to dozens of pink snakes, all with mouths open, pink fangs biting Maze’s arms and neck.
Maze whooped and screamed, then ran a short way and threw himself on the ground, rolling like his clothes were on fire. Warrior Woman scooped her hand closed and all the pink snakes disappeared, but blood leaked from Maze’s many snake bites.
“Holy shit,” Maze said, scrambling to his feet, running his hands over his wounds.
Snakebit! Dallas’ mind screamed. The memory of that night swallowed Dallas, taking him back there, making him relive the agony, again. Pain exploded anew in his leg, and he groaned, then lost his balance and fell to the ground.
He battled his way to his feet, fighting to stay here and now and not go there and then.
Maze wasn’t looking at him, and for that, Dallas was glad. He was looking at the puncture holes on his arms. Warrior Woman seemed to have gone for good.
Maze speed-shifted in a blur, healing his wounds.
“See ya,” he muttered, then he ran and jumped like Superman, shifting into a small brownish-red and white hawk in the air. He flew off.
Dallas stood in one spot for a long time, thinking, before hiking back to his car, the cuff clutched in his hand.