He should be glad they were making themselves scarce, but he wasn’t. There was a weird vibe in the air. A disturbance in the atmosphere that he couldn’t pinpoint. It was a tangible feeling, not simply an intuition that something was wrong. He and Nick were in the lead, so he halted in his tracks and turned to the others. They stopped and waited in question.
“Does anyone else feel that?”
After a few seconds of silence, Micah said, “I do.”
Nick glanced between them sharply. “Feel what?”
How to explain? “It’s like a vibration in the air. A sound wave or something, only with no sound.”
Jax frowned. “That makes no sense.”
“This is going to sound bizarre, but . . .” Micah shifted, looking uncomfortable. Then he pointed to the scarred side of his face. “My skin is prickling, almost like I have ants crawling on me. But just on this area of my face, nowhere else.”
They stared at him, and Ryon’s unease intensified. He couldn’t imagine what the hell that could mean, but it probably wasn’t going to be good.
Nick looked to Ryon. “Do you sense an actual presence? Are your spirits telling you anything?”
He gave a humorless laugh. “What spirits? I think they all got the hell out of here and I don’t blame them. As far as a presence, there’s something making the disturbance. I just don’t know if it’s a living thing, or if there’s another explanation.”
“All right. Let’s keep going.”
They started out again. Nick didn’t have to remind them to stay sharp. Considering the weird vibe, plus the injured biologist and missing campers, it was clear that something bad was going on in their forest.
And the thought came unbidden that Malik was the last creature to stalk it.
No way could that Unseelie asshole have risen from the dead. Because that’s what he was—a deep-fried crispy critter sent to hell, thanks to Kalen. Any alternative was unthinkable.
Reaching the first campsite took longer than Ryon would have liked. At least his head had cleared some on the way and he was able to focus as they walked into the deserted area. He looked around, disappointed.
“There’s not much to see,” he observed, digging the toe of his boot into the cold, black ashes left from the fire. “She was here, and then she left.”
“In a hurry, though. She left this behind.” Micah held up a travel-sized bottle of whiskey that was three-quarters full.
Jax smoothed his dark goatee thoughtfully. “You know you’re booking out when you don’t notice you’ve left the booze behind, or you do and don’t bother to go back for it.”
Ryon walked over and took the bottle from Micah. “I wonder if something scared her and she took off from here. Maybe she was running from whoever pushed her into the ravine.”
“Nah,” Jax said. “I think she was nervous at first, cleared out in a hurry. If she ran from here she would’ve left everything, not just the bottle.”
“True.” Holding the bottle up to his nose, Ryon sniffed. A faint tinge of sweetness that didn’t belong to the liquor inside teased his senses, and he unscrewed the lid. The full bouquet of the whiskey was pleasant, though that wasn’t what hit him the hardest.
She had touched the glass. It carried her rich and earthy scent. How he knew it was hers when he had never scented her before was an easy one to answer.
His wolf was going fucking berserk.
“You’ve got her scent?” Nick asked.
“Yeah.”
“Let me get a whiff.”
Nick took the bottle and sniffed it. Then inhaled again, giving Ryon a bemused look. “I don’t smell anything but whiskey. Wonder why you picked it up but I can’t.”
“Got no clue.” He had a feeling Nick did, though. Damned if he was asking in front of his Pack brothers.
Nick waved a hand at the trail ahead. “We’ll keep going and spread out some, but no farther than shouting distance. If you pick up her scent again, let us know.”
Quickly, Ryon took the bottle back, screwed the lid on again, and stuffed it into his pack. She’d want a nip, later. Especially after she recovered enough to recount what had scared her. Almost killed her.
He and Nick walked the center of the trail while the others split off to the left and right of them, searching deeper into the woods. Now and then, Ryon caught the barest hint of her essence in the air, or on some brush. No sign of her, however, or where she might have veered off the path.
Until Micah called out from the left of the trail and stepped from a copse of trees, waving an arm. “Hey! Over here!”
Guys, Micah has something to the left of the trail, Ryon pushed into their heads. It was easier and more efficient than yelling.
He and Nick struck out through the trees, hurrying, the third group behind them. Micah disappeared briefly and he worried they would lose him, but it wasn’t long before he and Nick spotted Micah, Hammer, Mac, and Noah in an area where the trees thinned a bit. Micah was agitated, glancing their way, and then down at a lump on the ground. Hammer was outwardly calm, his expression unreadable.
The first fact Ryon became aware of was the stench. The putrid odor of death clogged his nostrils and threatened to send up the meager contents of his stomach. As he and Nick approached, he was damned grateful that his breakfast had consisted of little more than dry toast and some juice. Apparently, Mac, who was Kalen’s pregnant mate, wasn’t so lucky.
“Excuse me,” she croaked. “I’m going to be sick.”
Ryon felt sorry for her. The doc was a pure professional, but pregnant women sometimes couldn’t handle certain sights and smells very well. Hell, he’d almost been sick and he didn’t even have an excuse. Ryon almost went after her, but Kalen showed up and intercepted his pea green mate, leading her away from the gruesome scene.
“Fuck me.” Noah breathed. “As a nurse I’ve seen plenty of dead people, but nothing like this.”
Ryon nodded. “Me, neither. Christ.”
“Can’t tell if it was a man or a woman,” Jax observed. He coughed, holding a hand over his face. Not that it would help.
Rowan, Aric’s mate, had been quiet throughout the search, until now. “Woman,” she said, pointing. “Look how small the shoes are, and the laces are pink.”
Noah arched a brow. “That doesn’t mean anything. I have pink shoelaces.”
Ryon shot him a grin. “So it’s like that, is it? Shoulda figured.” Noah winked at him and several of the guys laughed. The exchange dispelled some of the depressing atmosphere, but Nick wasn’t amused.
“Focus, idiots. We’ve got a murder here and two more possible victims we need to find.”
Sobering, Ryon crouched near the body and studied it. God, it was torn to pieces. Hardly recognizable as human, just shredded clothing here and there, clumped with bloody flesh and muscle, writhing with maggots. A sliver of garment that used to be white caught his eye, however. Reaching for a stick on the ground, he used it to lift the white strip of cloth from the clump.
“It’s part of a bra,” he said, then dropped the stick in disgust. “Rowan’s right.”
“There’s her backpack,” Micach observed. Everyone turned to look at it. “But it’s strange that it’s not torn up and there’s no blood on it.”
Ryon stared at it, chilled. “It might not belong to the this victim.” He gestured to the mangled body.
“A companion?” Nick wondered aloud. “Or the woman who came to you for help?”
Just then, Ryon’s eardrums were nearly shattered by a high-pitched wailing noise. “Shit!”
Bracing a hand on the ground, he searched for the source of the shrieking. He wasn’t surprised to note that none of the others heard the racket. Nor was he shocked to see the spirit of the female victim sitting beside her own body, covered in blood, rocking as she wailed out her terror.