The next morning, everyone came together for breakfast. With a smile, Niall watched the younglings next to him. After a taste of Madoc’s cooking, the cubs had dug into the sausage-egg biscuits and hash browns with enthusiasm. They were already on their second helpings.
Heather, too, was eating heartily.
He smiled, pleased to have her in their home. And even more pleased he’d heard her voice in his brother’s bedroom last night.
When he’d teased André, his littermate stated nothing happened, and she’d simply needed comfort.
Niall had smothered his smile. Because holding someone during the night could be even more intimate than mating.
Aye, André liked Heather, and a wayward hope rose in Niall’s heart. Could they, maybe, someday have a family holding more than the three of them?
“Hey, guys.” When everyone at the table looked up, Heather laughed. “I’m so outnumbered.”
Madoc grinned. “Question or request?”
“A question. How can Canadians buy land here without a lot of paperwork?”
“Because we have citizenship here too. Under almost the same names.” Niall cradled his coffee mug between his palms. “Our wandering parents found it useful to have separate identities as US citizens. When we were born in Canada, they registered us there, then crossed the border in the mountains with us, and did the same in the US. We’re using our US papers here; a friend mailed them down.”
“If we didn’t have those”—Madoc waved toward Niall—“he’d create new ones.”
Heather’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Should he mention how much he loved creating fake IDs? “Some. Passports, no. And the new-fangled chipped drivers’ licenses…not yet, although I can create all the documentation needed to get them.”
“Calum will want to talk with you. He wants ways to keep long-lived shifters off the government radar.”
Niall grinned. “As it happens, I’m open to work.” With his office finally set up, he could start taking on remote jobs. “Speaking of work”—he looked at André—“are we starting the cub-hunt today?”
“Oui. While Ina and I work on opening the communal house, you and Madoc will search for the homeless younglings.” André turned his attention to the cubs. “Talam, Sky, are you willing to talk with your friends? Tell them we have a place for them to stay?”
They shrank in their chairs.
Why would they be afraid of other cubs? Niall’s eyes narrowed. “Are the other younglings mean to you?”
Talam shook his head. “They’re okay, especially Mateo and Alvaro.”
Perhaps it wasn’t the boys they feared, but the unnamed boss who sounded like the Fagin character in a Dickens novel. They were probably right to worry.
“Hey, cubs. No matter where you go today, I’ll be close by and so will Madoc.” Niall ruffled Sky’s hair. “We’re your bodyguards, eh?”
The blond lad looked uncertainly at his brother. Talam was definitely the alpha of the two, much like André with Niall and Madoc.
After a moment’s thought, Talam turned to André. “Yes, Cosantir. Uh—” He looked at Niall in an unspoken plea for the right words.
Niall winked, bowed his head, and whispered, “Your will, Cosantir.”
Both boys bowed their heads and repeated the words.
Without a hint of a smile, André inclined his head in the formal response.
As the cubs sat up, straight and proud, Niall felt a delighted pride at the fine shifters they were becoming.
An hour later, Talam sat at the dining room table and pretended to read his book. The males were loading equipment into Niall’s new pickup while Sky napped.
Heather was in the kitchen, making tea, and it was Talam’s turn to watch over her in case she needed anything.
He hated it. Not because he didn’t want to help, but because she had scratches on her face the healer hadn’t fixed. And she was barefoot because all her shoes were gone. And she didn’t have the little cabin in the forest.
Because of what he and Sky had done.
Only they wouldn’t’ve burned her cabin if they’d known it was Heather’s place. Mr. Wendell lied to them, and they’d believed him because he was—had been—the Cosantir. What kind of Cosantir would lie? Or burn a female’s house? It was…wrong.
Frowning, Talam stared out the window, then heard Heather say, “Cat-scat,” real quiet. He stood up and saw her trying to open a honey jar one-handed by pinning it to the wall with her hip.
He hurried over. “I can get it.”
Her eyes were red like she was going to cry. But she didn’t yell or anything. “That’d be great, Talam. The lid is awfully tight. I guess these males are way too strong.”
It was tight, but he got it open and felt almost useful.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She poured the honey in her tea and then just stared at it.
“I…uh…don’t you drink coffee?”
“I had some with breakfast. I’m having tea now so I can pretend it’s calming.” Her smile was crooked, kinda like he looked when he tried not to cry.
I did this to her. He was the reason she broke her arm and couldn’t open a jar and had to drink tea. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh honey.” Putting an arm around him, she pulled him close. “I don’t blame you for doing what a grown-up male told you to do. Especially since you thought he was the Cosantir.”
He could feel her taking a big breath.
“I’m going to be sad and angry about what happened, probably for a while to come. But I’ll never be mad at you or Sky. It’s not your fault, Talam.”
“Why—” His voice cracked, and he had to start again. “How come André is the Cosantir and not Mr. Wendell? I thought Cosantirs stayed till they died or something.”
“Oh, I guess I’m to blame.” She gave him a squeeze and let him go, then picked up her cup of tea. “Tell you what—sit with me, and I’ll tell you the story.”
When they were sitting back at the table—and somehow, he had a couple of cookies and a glass of milk in front of him—she started, “You see, Pete—Mr. Wendell—was Cosantir for a long time, but he stopped doing the job. He wasn’t protecting the women and children or enforcing the Laws. So, when I saw a fight where a male broke the other male’s bones, I…”
As Talam listened, his stomach got tighter and tighter until he pushed the cookies away. He’d heard about the scary, dangerous Call to the Gods in stories and stuff. Heather was really brave. He swallowed hard. “Did Mr. Wendell know you asked Herne for a different Cosantir?”
Heather nodded. “Yes, I told everyone during a work day at the Gathering House—and Pete was there.”
Scatty poop. Talam wrapped his arms around himself. What should he do? Surely she knew Mr. Wendell hated her. Did she need to know more?
If he told her Mr. Wendell was who lied to him and Sky and had them burn her house, then he’d come after him and Sky. Hurt them.
Only what if Mr. Wendell tried something else? What if he went after her—or killed her—because she didn’t know how crazy mad he was? Talam shivered.
“Talam?” She put her hand over his. “Honey, you’re shaking. What’s the matter?”
“He hates you,” Talam whispered. “He—Mr. Wendell—he was the one who took us out to your house to burn it. And…and he said he’ll turn into a bear and rip us to pieces if we tell. But you have to be careful, Heather. He hates you.”
“Oh baby.” Drawing him close, she held him as he cried.
And for the first time in a very long time, he felt…safe. So very safe.
That afternoon in Ailill Ridge, Madoc moseyed along, pretending to be window-shopping, but tracking the cubs’ reflection in the glass. On the other side of the square, Niall was doing the same thing. They’d be close if their charges found trouble.
Would the mangy-tailed, coyote-livered weasel of an ex-Cosantir really go after them?
Madoc still had trouble believing any Daonain would threaten cubs—let alone a shifter who’d been a Cosantir.
No wonder Herne ripped Wendell’s powers out.
Unfortunately, the God had left the weasel alive and free to seek revenge on Heather and the cubs. And probably André, if the opportunity arose. Because Herne didn’t haul off and simply execute shifters.
Sometimes Madoc thought that was a shame.
Well, when found, Wendell would face Cosantir’s Judgment. Not only for instigating the burning of the cabin but for embezzling from the clan and worse—using cubs to steal for him.
Madoc growled under his breath. The way he felt, Wendell would be lucky to survive to stand before André.
They just had to find him. He wasn’t at his house. Roger, the pack alpha, had moved out and didn’t know where his littermate was. Every evening, André did his Cosantir scanning thing, seeing what shifters were in his territory. Wendell wasn’t. He might have taken off for a whole new state…or simply be hiding just outside of the territory in a human town. There was nothing to prevent him from returning. Unless André was actively scanning at the time, he wouldn’t know if Wendell was here.
Which meant, until they found the weasel, they needed to guard his victims.
Madoc moved in closer to the cubs.
Circling the square, Talam and Sky slowed at each opening between buildings and whistled an odd tune. After making the circuit once, they started over.
A whistle came from one dark opening. The cubs stopped…staying within Madoc’s sight.
Four slightly older lads stood in the shadows, all equally ragged and thin.
The sight about broke Madoc’s heart.
And it made him wonder... A Cosantir could draw strength from his land and his clan. Did the bond go both ways? Did a Cosantir’s spirit affect his clan? Had Wendell’s laziness and indifference infected his people?
Madoc chuckled, because if the link went both ways, the clan was in for a shock. André was neither lazy nor indifferent, and the shifters here might well feel as if they’d gotten a sharp nip to their furry asses.
As Talam and Sky talked, hope lit the other cubs’ faces.
After a few minutes, Talam headed for the Shamrock, and the other cubs followed him like ducklings after their mother. Grinning, Sky brought up the rear.
Alert for threats, Madoc crossed the square after them. He didn’t scent Wendell anywhere.
But the human Chief of Police watched the procession with narrowed eyes and a pissed-off expression.
Putting a foot up on a bench, Madoc pretended to tie his shoe and eyed the cop as questions arose. Why hadn’t the police done anything about the wayward boys? Didn’t humans take responsibility for orphans? The chief couldn’t have known these were shifter children.
Or could he?
As the boys entered the Shamrock, the cop walked away.
Niall stopped in the doorway and glanced back at Madoc.
Since the boys were safe inside, Madoc pointed toward where Wendell’s house was located. He’d wander over there and have another sniff to see if the weasel had returned.
He wasn’t a cahir like his brother, but he never minded lending a paw in the name of justice.
And his paws were damned big.
Leaning against the long counter in the Shamrock, André winced as the sound of a circular saw assaulted his ears. Near one wall, the Moreno’s all-Daonain construction crew were working on the salad bar Madoc had wanted at the last minute.
On the opposite side of the room, Heather and Ina were talking with the selected communal house residents.
André smiled as he watched them. Heather had refused to stay home and rest. Instead, she insisted on helping choose the shifter who would manage the communal house. Apparently, one of her friends had been bullied when living there last winter.
Since there would be parentless cubs in the house, André wanted someone who lived there to be in charge.
Talam had told Heather if she wanted to manage the house, he and Sky would help her. Before André could tell the lad no, she’d gently explained that she could afford to rent a house and shouldn’t take a room someone else really needed.
At the door, Talam came in, followed by four boys, perhaps thirteen and fourteen years old, then Sky.
Thanks to the Mother. André pulled in a relieved breath. He’d been worried Wendell might have taken the other boys off to steal.
As they drew closer, he caught the wild scent, indicating the new cubs had already experienced First Shift. One worry gone since a cub required a mentor for First Shift—someone they completely trusted.
Talam and Sky’s First Shift was still a concern. At this time, the only adults they even vaguely trusted were Heather, him, and his brothers. For now, the cubs needed to stay right where they were.
He walked over to a table in the center of the room and took a seat. No need to loom over the wary younglings.
Standing in front of him, Talam made the tiny bow he’d learned from Niall. “Cosantir.”
“Talam.” André smiled at them. “Thank you for coming.”
The four new cubs stared at him. Thin, ragged, dirty. And trembling with hope.
He tilted his head. “I’m André, the new Cosantir—and I hope to take better care of you.”
The blue-eyed one, trying so hard to be brave, stood straight. “Yeah, what do we have to do for it?”
His littermate elbowed him, hissing, “He’s the Cosantir, scat-for-brains. Be polite.”
Ah well, a cub learned by watching. André smiled gently and pointed at the chairs around the round table. “Sit, please.”
Despite nervous glances toward the open door to ensure their escape was possible, they obeyed. Talam and Sky sat to his right.
“I know Talam and Sky.” André smiled at the brown-eyed cub next to Talam. “Can I have everyone’s names?”
The short, brown-eyed cub next to Talam spoke up first. “I’m Mateo Galves.” He touched the lad next to him. “And my brother, Alvaro.”
“It’s good to meet you. I’m guessing thirteen years old?” André’s estimate received a quick smile and nod from Mateo.
He turned to the other pair of littermates and waited.
“I’m Kathan.” The sturdy blond cub turned and nodded at his equally stocky, brown-haired, blue-eyed brother. “And he’s Hamlin…uh…Pfeiffer. We’re fourteen.”
“A good summing up.” At André’s approval, the fourteen-year-olds also smiled.
“Cosantir.” Heather came out of the kitchen with a basket filled with donuts and small cartons of milk. She set it on the table. “For your meeting.”
The female was wily as a fox. What youngling would walk away from donuts? “Thank you, Heather. Join us, please.”
“Your will, Cosantir.” She took the empty chair on his left, adjusting her sling as she sat.
The boys—even Sky and Talam—stared at the food, not believing it was for them.
“You are my meeting, lads.” He motioned to the food. “Eat.”
They still hesitated, as if thinking he’d change his mind. But when Talam took a milk carton and a donut, the rest did the same. Warily. Watching him closely.
Pity vied with anger in his soul. No cub should ever go hungry—or be so afraid. But it was quite satisfying to watch them eat and begin to relax.
Leaning closer to Heather, André whispered, “You are a wonder.”
A charming pink filled her cheeks. “Just doing what needed to be done.”
In his opinion, she always went several kilometers beyond.
Eventually, the younglings slowed and started giving him nervous glances.
André smiled. “You asked what you had to do…”
Hamlin, the cub with the quick mouth, bit his lip and nodded.
“I’m sure Talam and Sky said you’ll live at the communal house.”
They all nodded.
André folded his hands on the table. “You’ll have a temporary foster parent for each set of littermates. Obey them and the house manager. Be polite and work together with everyone else there.” He gave them a stern look. “You’ll also obey the laws of the country and the Daonain.”
“That means no more stealing.” Everyone heard Talam’s whisper.
The newcomers flushed and looked at the table.
“Aye,” André agreed. “No stealing. If Pete Wendell tries to talk with you, tell your foster parent or the manager or me.”
Off to one side, Niall raised his hand. “Or me.”
André grinned. “Or the cahir.”
As the cubs eyed Niall, André could see their tension ease. Like Talam and Sky, they were terrified of Wendell coming after them.
“Will there be food there?” Mateo asked carefully.
“Plenty of food. Clothes. Beds. Showers.” André raised an eyebrow at Heather in case she wanted to add something.
“You’ll be in school, of course, and along with fun times, you’ll help keep up the house in return for an allowance.”
The news of an allowance received delighted smiles.
She continued, “And…the Cosantir hadn’t planned to open the communal house until it was fixed up, but after hearing about you, he’s opening it today.” Heather smiled at them. “Which means you’ll get to help paint the walls. If the carpenters need help, go for it. You might learn a new skill.”
“I like carpentry.” Kathan straightened in his chair.
“He’s good at it too,” Hamlin chimed in.
“Perfect. You’ll get a chance to help.” André motioned to Ina’s group waiting off to one side. “Heather will introduce you to your foster parents and the others who will be living at the house. I’ll be here if you have questions or concerns afterward.”
A second later, he was sitting with just Talam and Sky.
“We…we could go to the communal house too.” Sky stared at his hands.
What with an upcoming First Shift and then Wendell’s threat, he’d prefer they stay right where they were. But if the other boys were their friends, would they be happier at the communal house? “Would you prefer to go there?”
Both lads shook their heads vehemently.
“Then, until we’ve dealt with Wendell, you’ll stay with us. Yes?” André smiled at the gusty sighs of relief.
A female’s voice rose. “Why, I know—knew—your mama! I didn’t realize she had returned to the Mother. Heather, let me foster these two.”
André checked the corner. Kathan and Hamlin were being hugged by a middle-aged female. Smiles made him think things were going well. And Niall was lurking nearby. He’d have a report later.
“You!”
André looked up to see the Chief of Police crossing the room…from the kitchen. How long had the human been there?
The chief had an angry expression on his face. “I hear you’re the new bigshot, come to take over the town.”
André stiffened. How much did the man know about the Daonain? In a territory, there were usually a few humans who’d been told about shifters. Very few, though, because betrayal meant the death of the human and the shifter.
It was the Law.
“Chief Farley.” André rose. “I’m André Crichton. What brings you here today?”
The chief looked André up and down, then his lip curled. “You don’t seem particularly threatening.”
“That’s good to hear. Again, what brings you here today?”
“I know what you are.” Farley moved closer, his voice dropping. “What you turn into.”
Around the room, shifters tensed. Farley obviously didn’t realize that shifter hearing was more than adequate to catch what he said.
“I see.” André leaned a hip against the table. “And you are here because…?”
“Pete and me, we had a deal.”
This wasn’t looking good. “I hadn’t heard about it.” André opened his hands, palms up. “If you would, please explain.”
“I told him how to put the brats to use, even taught him the tricks. I get a ten percent cut of everything they pull in.” Farley dropped his hand to his firearm. “You took over Pete’s job and the little shits. I expect my cut from what they steal.”
“I see.” André eyed the chief. No, don’t jump the idiot. Risking females and cubs was unacceptable.
From the corner of his eye, André saw Niall silently moving in from the side. Behind the chief, Madoc appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Excellent. “I regret to tell you the children will no longer participate in illegal activities.”
Anger darkened Farley’s face. “Then you had best look to giving me my cut anyway. A thousand a month should cover it.”
“And if I do not?”
Farley’s mouth edged with a cruel smile. “Then I tell the media about people who turn into bears.”
This was going downhill quickly. “A bear?”
“Fuck, don’t play innocent with me. Pete showed me what you people are. Jesus, I about lost my fucking lunch.” He sneered at André. “Since you took over, I guess you’re a bigger bear than Wendell?”
“I’m a bigger threat,” André said mildly. He glanced at Niall who’d come up right behind Farley. “Secure him, please.”
A second later, the cahir had Farley restrained in a full nelson, arms beneath the chief’s armpits and hands locked behind his neck. When the man kept struggling, Niall tightened his hold, coming close to breaking the lawman’s neck.
No one in the room would object. The human’s doom had been sealed the moment he threatened to reveal the Daonain.
Unfortunately, a dead police officer would draw attention.
There was another way to deal with the human. Not one André liked. His stomach twisted in sudden nausea. Yet he had no sympathy for a law enforcement officer who’d use children to feather his nest. “I fear, Chief, neither of us is going to enjoy this.”
Niall held Farley as André laid his hand on the chief’s face. When he opened the channel to Herne’s power, the surging fire ripped a path across his soul as if he was riding a lightning bolt.
Bowing his head, closing his eyes, he pushed into the human’s mind, ignoring his high scream of agony. With the flames of the God, he burned away the memories of weeks…months. All Farley’s interactions with Wendell and the children—gone.
Go further. The God’s command reverberated through André. Continuing, he wiped the memories back to the man’s first hint of what the Daonain might be.
Years…gone.
As the thunder of the God faded from his spirit, André dropped his hand.
The room was silent except for the rasp of the unconscious chief’s breathing. The shifters stared at André in an uncomfortable mix of horror and respect.
He pulled in a breath. The clean certainty of a Judgment faded. Sickness at what he’d just done remained.
Stepping back, he met Niall’s understanding gaze. His brother murmured, “Sometimes the job sucks.”
A cahir would know.
“Thank you, brawd.” André’s words came out an ugly rasp. “We need to decide what to do with him. He’ll be incapacitated for a while—and he’s lost years of his past.”
“Drop him off at a human hospital?” Madoc joined André and bumped his shoulder in support.
“No.” Heather joined André. “Hospitals have security cameras outside. Your vehicle and face would show up.”
Niall nodded. “She’s right. Could we simply dump him somewhere?”
“Oui.” André rubbed the back of his neck. Abandoning a confused person, even if a criminal, was distasteful. “Afterward, I’ll call emergency services to report an injured man on the roadside.”
“No, the phone would—” Niall and Heather spoke together, then Niall continued, “They’d be able to track your phone.”
“Use a disposable phone, an’ hang up real quick.” Sky and the other cubs had moved closer. When everyone looked at him, he flushed and muttered. “Mom and me liked to read thrillers.”
“It’s a good idea.” Niall wrapped his arm around Sky’s head and ruffled his hair. “I like clever cubs.”
The sick feeling inside André diminished at the proud tilt to the cub’s chin. And at remembering how the chief and Wendell had used the younglings. The balance was fair.
He looked at the small group around him. “It appears we have a plan.”
An hour later, Heather couldn’t quite get past what she’d just seen. Admittedly, she’d heard about how other Cosantirs banished and even killed shifters.
But this? André had wiped out years of a person’s memories.
Years.
“Here, Heather.” Murtagh handed her a cheap phone from his stock.
She tucked it into her sling.
Then Sky, Talam, Mateo, and Alvaro climbed into the back two rows of André’s Toyota Sequoia. Realizing the chief had been the one to set them up to be exploited, the younglings wanted to see him out of their lives.
Opening the back hatch, Madoc put the unconscious chief in, donned gloves, and jumped into Farley’s police car. He’d follow them to the dumping site.
“Here goes nothing,” Heather muttered and settled into the passenger seat.
Niall laughed and started the car. “We’ll be fine, pretty wolf.”
The drive toward Ellensburg seemed far too long, probably because Heather kept imagining how everything might go wrong—like getting discovered with the chief in the back.
Finally, Niall turned down a deserted road and slowed. “There’s a likely boulder.” Getting out, he left the car running. “Stay put, everyone.”
With Madoc’s help, he lugged the chief out of the SUV, knocked his head against the boulder, and let him fall.
As Madoc wiped any fingerprints from the door latch, Heather eyed the blacktop shoulder, pleased to see the pavement showed no footprints or tire tracks.
Niall jumped back in, followed by Madoc. The police car would remain there, parked on the shoulder.
After buckling into a seat beside Sky, Madoc stripped off his gloves.
“Why’d you hit his head on the rock?” Talam asked as Niall did a U-turn and drove away.
“I wanted the boulder to be marked with his blood. It’ll look as if he fell and thumped his head there. It explains why he’s unconscious and will be confused.”
Heather closed her eyes for a moment. Confused was an understatement, Heather thought. The chief wouldn’t be able to remember the last years of his life. A prison sentence might be easier.
“I guess it’s my turn.” She punched 911 into the phone.
“911. What is your emergency?”
She made her voice high and frantic. “I…I saw a man. Lying beside the road. I think he’s unconscious or dead or something. It’s um, outside Ellensburg, barely south of the Manastash and Mellergaard intersections. There’s like, nothing out here. Please send someone to check on him.”
“Is he breathing? Or bleeding.”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t stop.” Oh cat-scat. Why would a person not stop? “I—uh, I have a car full of children.” True enough, right?
“Ma’am, I need your name—”
Catching Madoc’s nod, Talam screamed in a high voice, “You pisser, you give that back!”
“No! It’s my game,” Sky yelled. “Ow! Mo-om, he hit me.”
“No, no, it’s mine.” Mateo jumped right in. When he slapped his hands together like he’d hit someone, his littermate gave a yell of fury.
“You kids stop. Dammit!” Heather ended the call a second before she burst out laughing.
She turned to the grinning cubs in the back seat. “You were amazing.” Hand in the air, she high-fived Talam and Sky in the closest seats, then gave a thumbs-up to the other two. “Brilliant idea.”
“Yeah, when we were littler, we used to drive Mom crazy.” Talam’s expression held a mix of humor and grief.
“Us too,” Mateo agreed.
Madoc was laughing. “The dispatcher—or any parent—will know exactly why you didn’t stop to help a victim—or talk on the phone.”
Within a mile, the four cubs in the back were quiet, playing an I-Spy game. A few miles later, Niall took the phone from her and threw it out the window into a deep ravine.
Heather sighed in relief. “Mission accomplished.”
“Except for Wendell.” Niall’s jaw was tight. The grimness of his voice brought home to her who exactly would have to deal with Pete. Because Niall was a cahir.
Heather pulled in a breath.
Pete had told a human about the Daonain. He’d broken the Law. The Cosantir had no choice but to order the cahir—Niall—to kill Pete. To return him to the Mother.
“I’m sorry.” Heather lay her hand on his hard thigh.
“Thanks.” He moved his shoulders in a shrug. “That’s the job, though.”
Being a cahir took a very special kind of male.
After a minute of silence, she frowned. “Speaking of jobs…”
“What?”
“What are we going to do for a police chief?”