Aryck’s fingers flexed in jaguar reaction, instinctively preparing for a fight as he reached mentally for the pack’s alpha, his father, Koren.
The ability to communicate telepathically was rare among Weres, but it ran strong in his father’s bloodline. You found something? Koren asked without preamble.
Yes. Aryck transferred images and perceptions to his father, starting from where he’d come across Daivat’s scent and traveling to the kill site, before ending with what he’d discovered in the shallow grave.
Prostitute, his father said at the sight of the woman’s tattoo. There are settlements in the San Joaquin still following many of the laws enacted during The Last War.
Though he didn’t elaborate further, Aryck knew his father hadn’t lain with one of the prostitutes, but had seen the tattoo in the days when he himself was an enforcer hunting Weres who fled a death sentence. The mating bond between his parents had been so strong that even though his mother died giving birth to him, his father had never sought another female, much less a human who sold herself.
Do you want the bodies brought back to serve as evidence?
No. Dispose of them as you see fit. Daivat remains away from camp. I will summon the pack to the challenge circle and confront him with his crimes once you’ve both returned.
Aryck’s fingers flexed and phantom claws emerged. Inherent in his father’s words was a warning he should be ready to serve as the pack’s enforcer.
The mental connection fell away, leaving Aryck to contemplate the corpses he’d unearthed. Jaguars carried their dead high into the trees in a place deemed sacred by a shaman. They left them for the carrion birds and insects to pick clean, then for the sun to purify. Later, those bones that could be gathered by the elders were placed in the ancestral cave dug deep in a steep hillside.
He was no shaman to know the disposition of these only-human souls. Nor did they matter to him. Pack came first, and these dead represented nothing but danger to his kind.
He and Daivat had both covered their tracks to this burial site. Still, until more was known about the human encampment, Aryck was hesitant to leave the bodies so close to it. If there were gifted humans among those who’d invaded Coyote lands, it was possible they could find these corpses.
Even in the cities, where rule of law was said to prevail, Weres were protected only while in human form. Evidence of a jaguar attack might well offer an excuse for those in the encampment to come hunting with their guns, killing his kind regardless of whether they wore fur or not.
Aryck once again lifted the dead man from the shallow grave, slinging the carcass over his shoulder as he would have done to a slain deer. He did the same to the woman, balancing the weight before settling into a smooth, mile-eating run.
He traveled well-worn game paths until he drew near a pack of spotted hyenas. It was Jaguar land, but like most of the other Were alphas, his father allowed pure animals to move about freely as long as their presence didn’t threaten the pack.
Aryck grimaced in reaction to scrub marked with oily excrement from hyena anal glands. He stopped on a sheltered rise above the den area and lowered the corpses to the ground.
The wind favored him, carrying the smell of death toward the direction he’d come from. He carefully stripped the bodies, dropping the torn and bloody clothing into a pile before creeping forward to peer down at the gathered pack.
Humans thought of hyenas as scavengers, but they were predators to be respected. Aryck had no desire to become their prey. There were almost thirty animals present, including two he didn’t recognize. From their subservient behavior and small size he guessed they were males.
Several cubs played near a watchful female. They wrestled and tumbled, making Aryck smile in remembrance of a simpler time in his life, and reminding him, too, of the four mischievous and adventurous Jaguar cubs he often found himself hunting and chastising for the danger their curiosity led them to.
He took a moment to study the slope leading down to the lounging pack. It was steep enough to serve his purpose.
Given the lack of threat coupled with the promise of food, he doubted the hyenas would give chase. Still, he hurled the corpses as far from his position as possible.
A rattling growl sounded immediately. It was echoed tenfold then followed by loud whooping, a rallying call announcing a meal as the first animal reached the bodies.
Aryck paused only long enough to gather the discarded clothing then began running, confident that by the time he reached camp nothing would remain of the murdered humans, not even a bone.
FIREFLIES lit the dusk and swarms of tiny, winged fey raced for their nighttime hives as Rebekka and the others reached the forest edge closest to the street lined with Were brothels. Her breath caught when she spared a glance in the direction of the maze. It was leveled, reduced to rubble and chunks of brick that made the demon’s destruction in the woods seem like nothing.
He’d been a prisoner there as much as the Weres had been, used by the former priest, Anton, not just to guard the maze but to provide entertainment by hunting humans and beasts in it for the benefit of the gaming clubs. For Abijah to escape it, to wreak such damage . . .
Fear settled in Rebekka’s chest for Araña, who’d entered the maze in payment of a debt owed to vampires, sent there in order to destroy the urn once housing the demon. And for Tir, who’d left to find Araña after helping to free the Weres.
Levi whistled softly and, guessing that she worried, said, “If Abijah didn’t kill you, he probably left them alive as well. Let’s hope Araña and Tir were also successful in killing Abijah’s master.”
Rebekka couldn’t suppress a shudder. If Anton lived, he would never stop searching for those responsible for his loss.
“Let’s go,” Levi said, a hand on her arm drawing her away from the sight of the destroyed maze. “We don’t have time to savor our victory. The brothel doors will lock soon.”
They stepped from the woods. Movement drew Rebekka’s eye. A ragged street boy scurried along the front of buildings, probably having delayed to eat whatever food he’d managed to scrounge so he wouldn’t have to share it with those he took shelter with.
Cyrin and Canino left the trees. Rebekka started to tell them to remain hidden but Levi said, “This close to nightfall the feral dogs will already be out. They’re getting bolder. It’ll be safer staying together than separating.”
“I can make it the rest of the way on my own,” Rebekka said, forcing confidence into her voice because the thought of losing Cyrin and Canino to a bullet now was intolerable. The red zone was no safer for Weres in pure animal form than the areas of Oakland where laws were enforced by police and guardsmen.
“We’ll see you to safety.” The growl in Levi’s voice was echoed by the deep rumble of the other big cats.
“Then we’d better hurry.”
Like the street boy, they kept to the shadows. Moved along the sides of buildings boarded up for the night, shutters and doors closed tightly by shopkeepers who didn’t rely only on bars to keep predators out.
The red zone was as varied as Oakland itself. Pockets of wealth, clubs and homes owned by the vice lords and their associates, were surrounded by places where the poor lived.
They entered the area holding the businesses and homes of outcast Weres. As they passed a bar with a skinned human nailed to the front of it, raucous noise drifted through the open windows along with the smell of beer and meat. Unlike the Were brothels, which were locked against the night to keep prostitutes and patrons safe, places like the bar remained open, daring predator and prey alike to enter.