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Sufficiently clean and well-rested, I was up at an obscenely early time the next morning. Oisin kicked at me when I shook him awake, then burrowed his head back under the pillows. Con, on my other side, scooped me close and dropped a tender kiss on my head. "Morning."
I still wasn't used to all this...sweetness. I tried not to grin like an idiot. "It is. And we've got work to do," I said, shoving Oisin with my foot.
The fae grumbled and sat up, his long hair a tangled curtain over his face since he'd gone to bed with it damp. And maybe because me and a certain human had attempted another test of his fabled fae stamina before we went to sleep. Spoiler alert—we still didn't know his limits.
Emerald green glinted at me from somewhere in that mess. "Someone really needs to learn how to properly recover from revelry," he grumbled. "If you are going to wake me up at this ungodly hour, there should be some reward. Mead? Sweet rolls? A gryphon riding my cock."
I shoved him and he fell right out of bed, landing with a thump in a tangle of blankets.
Con barked a laugh.
I leaned over the edge of the bed. I hadn't meant to hurt him. "You okay—"
I was caught behind the neck and bodily dragged to the floor with magic-enhanced strength. "I don't see mead or food," Oisin growled, biting me sharply on the neck. I gasped and struggled, but his magic coursed over me.
I knew it. One of these days I was going to push him too far and my pretty little fae would murder me. He rolled me over, so he lay atop me, lifting one of my legs up at an impossible angle and biting the inside of my calf. "Am I going to fuck you senseless," he asked, thrusting suggestively against my shorts. "Or are you going to give me some other reason for waking me up?"
"We have to go hunt," I managed to sputter out. Even though I really wanted to answer differently.
Oisin smirked, releasing my leg and his magic. He leapt to his feet. "Well then, let's go. What are you doing lying on the floor?"
I growled.
Con sat over the edge of the bed laughing his ass off. Oh ha, ha, fucking ha.
"You did ask for it," he said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.
Oisin was already gone, banging about in his room as he found suitable assassin clothes, probably. I went to the dresser and pulled out jeans and a sweatshirt. Con wrapped his arms around me from behind, all warm and sleep-rumpled. "I wish I could help you guys," he said wistfully.
I turned and kissed him, short and sharp, my mind already on hunting. "You're the office staff," I reminded him. "You help us avoid death by phone calls and paperwork every day." I was dead serious.
Con laughed. "I'll go make coffee."
"And bacon," I called after him. "Lots of bacon."
Oisin and I set out an hour later, full of coffee and bacon, and eggs and toast and fruit...Con greatly underestimated his value in keeping us alive.
We started with the site of the squirrel massacre and worked our way up to the fox. I wasn't surprised when each business proved to be owned by a shifter. I recalled the guy at the law office giving me the stink-eye and it all made sense.
"Someone is targeting them. Trying to scare the living hell out of them," I said as we walked toward the edge of town, where no one would see me shift. "But why? I feel like we aren't accomplishing anything here."
Oisin hummed to himself as he walked, clothed in his all black gear. "Well, we know it probably isn't a supernatural doing the killing. It makes sense, really. You know how some humans feel about us."
I sighed. "Yeah, probably."
Most humans couldn't—or wouldn't—see the truth right in front of their eyes. But even the ones who had the sight tended to be afraid. And fear led to all kinds of stupid decisions. That was the reason no supe race had really pushed the let's-come-out agenda. Blind humans had killed other humans when they said they could see us. Burned them at the stake when they said they had befriended our kind. Imagine what they would do to the monsters themselves.
Or try to do. My gryphon side reminded me the humans would be dead before they got too far. Which was another problem in and of itself.
And speaking of humans, something had been distracting me this whole time. "Oisin?"
He stopped and looked at me, head cocked to the side, his mind clearly still on the dead shifters. "Gesa."
I heaved a sigh. I was so not good at serious emotional stuff. "Why wouldn't you let me tell Con. About...you know. Me?"
He ruffled my hair and gave me a soft smile. "You are so brave. Do you even realize that?"
I scowled. "Shut up. I told you and... well, it helped to know you knew and didn't judge me. A lot. I'd like to be honest with Con too. You don't really think he'd be grossed out or something, do you?"
I bit my lip. Now that I thought about it, maybe Oisin was reading him better than me. Maybe there was some human hang-up I was missing, and Con would think I was dirty or weak....
Oisin waved a hand in front of my face. "Earth to Gesa. Hello. Stop visiting the Land of Worrisome Conclusions." I rolled my eyes at him and he took my hand as we continued walking. "I wasn't teasing you. I mean what I said. It is very brave of you to be willing to share your pain with us. And it warms my frozen heart to think that I've helped you move past some of your fear."
He squeezed my hand and I was abruptly reminded of how old he was. Sometimes I forgot, since he acted like a child. "Our Con isn't just a cute human. He's a good man. And he adores you nearly as much as I do, gryphon. Of course he wouldn't judge you. But I didn't want either of you to freeze up. I wanted you to enjoy yourselves, you both deserve that. You were apprehensive. And if you told Con just then, he would have called a halt out of fear of hurting you or scaring you or taking advantage." He gave me his wicked lopsided grin. "He is a bit more sensitive than a fae. He would have wanted to take care of you, not realizing that for someone as stubborn as you, 'taking care' is more a matter of brute force."
I shoved him, but he didn't drop my hand. "Tell him," he said softly. "Just time it right, hmm? And expect him to coddle you like an invalid for at least a week after."
I snorted. He had a point. I could see it now. But I wanted honesty between us, so I knew I would do it. Eventually.
When we reached the edge of the woods outside of town, I stripped and shifted to my gryphon form. Oisin packed up my clothes and climbed aboard. "To battle," he said dramatically, holding a fist in the air as if he were leading a charge.
I pawed the ground and snorted, only realizing too late how my frustration probably sounded like I was playing along at being a horse. I launched into the sky without warning and Oisin whooped, flinging his arms around my neck and getting a double fistful of my feathered ruff.
We circled the denser forest west of town, near the edges of the Porcupine Mountains, looking for obvious things, like hunting blinds that shouldn't be there. I touched down in a clearing a ways away from a tree-top stand and shifted back.
"Let's go see if we can sniff anything out," I said softly as I pulled my clothes back on. We moved through the forest, Oisin flowing over and around obstacles like he was water, making not a single sound. I crashed about. I was quieter than a human would be, but no one could slink through the forest like a fae.
It was creepy.
He laid a hand on my shoulder to stop me when we got to the base of the tree-stand and I jumped, not realizing he'd gotten so close. "You stay here and check things out," he whispered. "I feel...something in the woods. Let me check with the trees and meet you back here."
I nodded, though I didn't like the sound of that at all. And was Oisin...talking to the trees?
Fae were so weird.
I crept around the stand. There was no one there now, but I could smell a human, probably a short distance from the stand. There was no trace of any shifters around. It could be that this guy was just an ordinary hunter, not a diabolical supe murderer.
A shotgun blast split the forest, rapidly followed by another thundering boom. A moment passed while my heart thundered in my chest. I started as a radio crackled nearby. "Got a big fucking deer," a man's voice proclaimed over the walkie-talkie. "You should see the rack on this thing. Come help me track it down."
I crept closer, praying to all the Gods that Oisin was keeping out of trouble. Though, knowing him.... I followed the human as quietly as I could while he hurried to his friend's location. As we slipped through the pines, I caught the scent of the deer shifter and the faint tingle of familiar magic. Oisin had been through here just moments before, probably tracking the shifter they'd just shot.
None of this really made sense. Were they just out here hoping they got lucky? I unzipped my jacket and loosened my fly. If there was an injured shifter up there, I might need to change to my other form fast to fly us out. And I was sick of losing my damned clothes to sudden shifts.
I fanned out nearly parallel with the human I was following, but out of his sight among the tall pines and thick ferns. I was trying to figure out where Oisin was, but his woodsy scent was harder to follow in the actual...woods, and it kept mingling with the scent of shifter blood. Small spatters of blood decorated the saplings and undergrowth as we trekked deeper into the woods. The shifter had run a long way for being wounded.
There was another loud boom, followed by a crackle and that canned walkie-talkie voice capering over the line. "Got it. Those new shells are damned good. The son of a bitch isn't running after that. Hurry up."
I followed my own panting human target a little farther into the woods. Another human stood over the body of the largest stag I had ever seen. I scanned the area for Oisin. I could sense him, but I couldn't see him. Probably some sort of fae invisibility bullshit. I slipped behind a wide tree as the humans bent over the deer.
I had never seen a specimen like it. The creature was lighter colored than your usual white tail and built differently. Its light reddish blond fur was matted with blood in spots, but was probably all flowy and magical when it was up and running, longer than a deer's pelt. White antlers spread a good four or five feet, a tangle of spikes and curls that in a run-of-the-mill mundane stag would mean it was ancient. It reminded me of a drawing I'd seen in a storybook as a child, of a guardian spirit that protected the forests and wild places.
And these fucks thought they should shoot it?
As I crept closer to the humans, I let my hands form into eagle talons, tipped with razor sharp claws. The shifter was still breathing—barely—its breaths short and labored, gurgling through its ruined chest. It should take more than a couple bullets to keep it down this long. Clearly the humans were ignorant. If you were going to kill a shifter you needed to aim for the head or the heart. And even then, you needed to be sure. They were going to get gored to death when that beautiful beast got back up.
But...it wasn't healing. Something was wrong.
I inched closer to the two men, who were debating something about what to do with the rack while their poor "kill" lay there suffering.
"Aw, just fucking kill it already," the one I'd followed said, gesturing at the stag.
The other one gave a feral sneer that would do a serial killer justice. Which, I guess was appropriate, given that was a fucking person they were attempting to murder. "Make it a damn sight more fun if we cut off the horns first. So the fucking thing knows it’s nothing more than a wall mount."
The wind shifted and I could smell Oisin. Could feel his magic pulsing over me in softer and softer waves. Where the hell was he....
The less diabolical of the humans cocked his gun and pointed it at the shifter's head.
No.
Oh! Fuck, fuck, fuck no!
I jerked forward, my slow, stupid self finally putting the pieces together. That wasn't any ordinary shifter. I leapt over a fallen log with a screech. Then I hit an invisible barrier of foreign magic like nothing I'd ever felt. It jerked me out of myself, slamming me into my gryphon form with disorienting force.
Whatever it was, that magic had just forced my shift.
I shook off my shredded clothes and stalked toward the humans, who were staring at me in slack-jawed shock. I would bet money the fuckwits hadn't known something like me existed. Maybe they thought all shifters were little squirrels or helpless fucking deer. I clacked my beak. I could quite literally bite off limbs, maybe even a head if I got the right angle.
I half-raised my wings to make myself larger, sending the men staggering back a few steps away from the stag. Away from my fucking mate bleeding out on the ground.
The serial killer guy moved first, probably seeing a bigger trophy. I swiped his arm with a taloned paw before he could get a good aim and his shot buried itself in the ground while his blood splattered. Growling, I swiped at the humans again, sending them tumbling in a heap of shredded clothing and bloody gashes. I wanted to follow them to the ground, tear their tiny hearts from their chests and shred the rest.
But the stag's breathing was getting fainter. Why wasn't he healing?
I turned and galloped back to his side, scooping the beautiful creature up in my talons then shifting him to an awkward hold with one foreleg and my head, crushing him to me. The stag was larger than anything I'd ever carried, awkwardly shaped and he couldn't exactly hang on to me. Grunting, I took his weight and plunged into the forest, looking for a clearer spot where I could take off.
A tree trunk exploded off to my right and I registered the boom of the gun only after the sting of the flying wood splinters. Keeping up my awkward three-legged, crook-necked run, I finally burst into a spot where the trees were more saplings than old growth. It would have to do. Taking a few more galloping steps, I crouched and launched myself, my powerful lion hind legs straining to shove my considerable weight, plus my heavy burden, into the sky.
I flapped hard, breath wheezing through my beak where it was tucked around my bundle. A stinging sensation sparked in my side, just under my wing. It took me a while to realize I'd been fucking shot. The bullet had hit the thick muscles under my wing before it burrowed into my side, and it was making flying a real pain in the ass.
The stag shifted weakly and I let out an alarmed squeak. If he started struggling, he was going to go splat. I was barely balancing him as it was. I wrapped both forelegs around his silky fur and willed him not to slip.
It was the worst flight I have ever experienced. Not giving a single fuck what people saw, I landed us on the roof of Oisin's building. I dropped my burden a bit more roughly than I meant to, then let out a shriek from my eagle mouth and stomped on the roof a few times for good measure. I didn't have my cell phone. I'd left it at home since I couldn't keep it when I shifted. And Oisin...well, he wouldn't have his now, even if he didn't insist they were a distraction and a good way to ruin a hunt.
I shifted back slowly, hissing at the pain in my side. I cupped a hand there and found I was still bleeding pretty bad. That should be healing by now.
But I didn't have much time to worry about that. Footsteps pounded up the stairs to the roof access. I shuffled my bare ass across the slate roof to get to the stag. "You stupid, stupid bastard," I muttered, stroking a patch of fur that wasn't covered in blood.
The wounds were still oozing, as if his body was fighting to heal but something was stopping it. I didn't know what to do. I'd never had a wound so severe that I needed to find help in this city. Back home in the clan there were gryphon healers knowledgeable about our unique physiology. But even then, we rarely needed them because most wounds healed on their own.
I'd have to take the stag to a vet. A human hospital would send me away. And what would a vet know about any of this? They'd probably tell me to just take him to the meat processing place where all the other hunters took their venison. I bent over and buried my face in the soft fur of his neck. "Just heal already, you ass."
The access door burst open and I managed to open my eyes long enough to see Con dashing out in his bare feet. "You're not wearing shoes." I commented. I felt kind of floaty and light-headed.
"Gesa? Shit, you're bleeding." Con crouched near me and shook me. "Hey, focus. Where's Oisin? Is he okay? What's with the...deer?"
I laughed and sobbed at the same time, my fingers tangled in the thick deer pelt like I could hold the shifter here on earth, even though I could feel his breathing slowing. "Yeah," I managed to gasp out. "He's going to be fine. He'll heal. He's...not healing, Con. Why isn't he healing?"
I started bawling like a baby, my vision going black around the edges. Oisin...flickered. It wasn't like the half-shift of a normal shifter, where the body physically changed before your eyes. This was pure visual magic, like a TV with faulty reception. He flickered from pale, slender fae to glorious magical beast as if he was about to fade to pure static.
For some reason that thought made me laugh...and cry harder. Spots danced behind my eyelids. It was cold up here, and I was fucking tired.
Maybe I could rest for just a minute....