Two days later, we drove to the deserted mine. Bridger pulled his SUV to the side of the dirt road and we got out. I squinted against the hot afternoon sun and followed him through a sparse copse of trees to a round, fathomless hole in the ground—another place where the parched earth had been swallowed by the mine. Icy air oozed from the hole and crept down my spine.
“Bridger, why did you bring me here?” I asked, rubbing my hands over my arms. The mine was the last place I wanted to be.
Bridger looked at me. A shadow of fear danced in his eyes. “There are Yea-naa-gloo-shee here,” he whispered.
Dread turned my legs to mush and I grabbed Bridger’s arm to keep from falling.
“They’re dead, Maggie,” he said gently, wrapping his arms around my waist. “My father killed the Walkers that stayed to see if you were dead. Their bodies were disposed of in this sunken mine shaft.”
I shivered in spite of the hot afternoon. “Who was the woman at the gate? Is she dead, too?” The woman from my nightmare.
“When the Skinwalkers need to communicate, they have a designated Speaker—someone who keeps her human form. She was gone before my father arrived, but I described her to my father. He believes she’s the Speaker for a Skinwalker named Rolf Heinrich.”
I gasped and dug my nails into Bridger’s arm. “Did you say Rolf Heinrich?”
Bridger’s eyebrows rose. “Do you know Rolf Heinrich?”
“He was one of the tigers—the men I told you about—who were hunting me here. I killed him.”
All color left Bridger’s face. His hands grew clammy against my back, so clammy I could feel them, like ice through the fabric of my T-shirt. “Are you certain he’s the man you killed?”
“Yes.”
“You killed the Skinwalkers’ leader—their most formidable fighter. If I had to guess, I would say the ability to survive against impossible odds is one of your natural instincts.” He looked at my hand and began prying it from his arm. My nails had made four half-moon indentations in his skin, right above three wolf-inflicted scars on the back of his wrist.
I thought of Rolf Heinrich’s naked corpse lying atop the tiger pelt. “If a Skinwalker dies in the shape of an animal, does he turn back into a human?”
“No. If you kill them instantly, they don’t have the power to change back. They are dead animals. If you wound them, they can change back to their human shapes, but they’re not like us. They don’t heal. Sometimes they still die.”
That made sense. Rolf Heinrich didn’t die instantly. He shifted back to his natural form and bled to death. My stomach churned and I peered over my shoulder, toward the distant dirt hill topped by a faded red flag.
“What is it?” Bridger asked, his hand slowly moving up and down my back.
“There are three bodies in the mine shaft over there, the one below Evening Hill,” I whispered. “Two are animals, but the third one’s Rolf Heinrich.”
He pulled my head against his chest and ran his fingers through my hair. “He’ll never be found. My father is destroying the mine. He wrote an article for the local newspaper claiming it’s too dangerous to leave the abandoned mine as it is, which is true, but that isn’t the motivation behind his decision. He’s disposing of your hunters.”
I looped my arms loosely behind his back, content to rest my head against his chest. “How many died?”
“Only a few. Most of them left after you were shot.”
“How’d he … kill … them?”
“My father …” I looked up when he didn’t continue. His lips were pressed together, as if he couldn’t speak another word. He looked at me and took a deep breath. “He had a lot of help—other Shifters.”
“Oh. Who?” The house, Bridger’s house, had been silent for the two days I’d been holed up in the guest room.
“They left as soon as the bodies were disposed of. While you were still bunking in the basement.”
“I would have liked to meet them. To thank them.”
“You can’t meet them, Maggie.”
“Why?”
“Because they don’t want you to know who they are. Only Shifters know other Shifters.”
“But I am a Shifter, Bridger. Why didn’t you tell your dad?”
He slowly raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I didn’t tell him?”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “When I was lying down in the basement, I could hear your conversation,” I admitted, too ashamed to meet his eyes.
“Huh. You could hear our conversation through a soundproof door?”
I shrugged. “I guess I have good hearing.”
“Good hearing? You’re such a liar,” he said with a laugh.
“But seriously—why didn’t you tell your dad about me? Is it because I’m a mirror? Because my father was a Skinwalker? Would he think I was evil if he knew?”
Bridger’s arms tightened around me. “No! Who your parents are doesn’t make you good or evil. It’s how you choose to live your life that does.”
“But”—I pulled back and looked right into his eyes—“if my mom was a Shifter, why didn’t you guys know her? How did you lose track of her? And me?”
“Every once in a while, a Shifter goes rogue and severs all ties with us. Maybe that’s what happened. Or—” Doubt filled his eyes and he looked away from me.
“Or what? Tell me. I have a right to know,” I said, putting my hand on Bridger’s cheek and turning his face so he had to look at me again.
He took a deep breath and continued. “If a Shifter joins the Walkers through marriage, we sever all ties and erase the Shifter from our records—like they never existed. Maybe that’s what happened to your mom—she fell in love with a Walker, got married, and got erased. But she must have loved you a lot, Maggie, because somehow she got you away from them—probably died for it. And because of that, you survived. Love is a pretty powerful thing.”
I rested my head back on his chest and stared unseeing at the deserted mine. For the first time in my life I felt close to my mother, a woman I never knew.
“One day my father will know the truth about you,” Bridger said, tilting my chin up so he could look at me.
“And then he won’t care that you … like … me so much?” I asked.
The corners of Bridger’s mouth turned up. “I don’t like you Maggie. I am in love with you. Madly!”
A grin flickered across my face. “I do believe I am in the right ‘social class’ to be your girlfriend.”
Bridger kissed my forehead. “Nothing can keep us apart.”
Nothing? I hoped that was true. “The Walkers think I’m dead, right?” He nodded. “What happens when they find out I’m not?”
He glanced at the mine shaft. “Hopefully that will never happen. But now that you’re with us—the Shifters—they’ll think twice about coming after you. Before, when you were alone, you were a prime target.”
I stepped out of the safe embrace of his arms and looked down into the depths of the mine shaft again, staring at the impenetrable blackness. Without thinking, I willed my eyes to be those of a cat, made them change, expand, improve, and then, like a movie coming suddenly into focus, the bottom of the mine shaft blurred into view. Dark shapes against darker masses solidified into grotesquely twisted and broken animals.
A gasping intake of breath startled me, and my eyes jerked from the shaft to Bridger. He scrambled away backward, as if I were a demon, and lost his footing. Orange dust swirled as he fell heavily to the ground. I burst out laughing. I’d never seen him trip before—didn’t think it was possible.
Slowly, not taking his eyes from mine, he stood and brushed off his pants. A smile crept over his startled face.
“You are definitely a mirror! You have the eyes of a freaking cat,” he said, walking back to my side. “But you’re my cat.” He framed my face with his hands and peered down into my eyes. “Even if I’m a bird of prey.” Then he kissed me.