Page 33 of Cats and Dogs

Chapter 15

Trail

The crowd was thinning out, and he didn't have to make use of his superior hearing to realize that it was past time to make himself scarce; the mated pairs had spent most of the evening touching each other. There were going to be a lot of noise and scents he didn't want to endure soon. Come to think of it, it was probably a good thing that they'd asked him to stay outside the pride house.

"Doesn't it get to you?" he asked Ian. "Living in the same house."

"Hell, yes. If you're thinking about the others getting their freak on, that's not the problem. This place is ideal; every room is soundproof. But I certainly would prefer to have a bit more privacy. Our cats like to be together, but even they want their own territory sometimes."

"Then why don't you work on the other cabins out there for you guys?" he wondered. "On our run back, I saw at least five."

But as the words passed his lips, he could guess the answer. They banded together that way because it was safer.

"Protecting one single house is much easier if we're under siege. And if we're taken by surprise someday, there'll be a bunch of us around the kids."

Hunter nodded. He got it. Most of this pride's issues were due to his pack. How messed up was that? They hadn't done anything wrong, and their entire lives were in shambles because the Vergas wanted to kill a defenseless three-year-old.

There were a few hybrids in the world - not many, but enough to keep the Vergas busy, if their intention had been to just eradicate them. Yet, they left them all alone, every one except Lola. Their problem wasn't that she was a hybrid, it was that she was a Force hybrid. In an ideal world, the two shifter groups could have just sat down and talked it out like adults. The Vergas didn't want it known that they'd given birth to a hybrid? They could have signed a goddamned treaty assuring that Lola would never admit to a kinship with them and that would have been it. But Arthur Force didn't talk things through. He didn't negotiate. He killed. He hunted. He tortured.

Quite suddenly, Hunter had an idea. A very dangerous idea, but one which would nonetheless solve all his problems, and the Vergas' too.

Coveney walked in the living room, wearing dark cargo pants and a brown tank, the sort of colors people wore on patrol at night. He was staring at the phone in his hand.

"Hey, have you heard from Jas?"

Ian frowned.

"Isn't she supposed to come back from her patrol shift now?"

"She is. I was going to replace her, to give you a break, since you picked up extra shifts in our absence. But she isn't back and she isn't answering her phone."

Frowning, Hunter got up from the sofa at the same time as Ian. "I'm a good tracker and I know her scent. I'll help."

He didn't offer his help as much as announce he'd give it, whatever they had to say against it. If his hunch proved true, they'd need him.

"What's the matter?" Christine asked, coming back inside.

She'd spent the last hour outside. Hunter was seriously pissed at himself when he realized he needed to postpone their little trip up to the guest house, after all.

"Jas isn't back from patrol," said Ian. "We're going to check things out - can you notify Rye if we don't call or turn up within the next hour?"

Hunter walked to the closest window and opened it, tentatively sniffing the air.

Every scent assaulted him violently, now that he'd focused on his strongest sense. The wind carried the smell of the night, the lake, the woods, and every pack member. He wasn't familiar with them as much as he'd been with the Vergas' scents, but he could still distinguish them.

Above it all, there was another scent.

It smelled of coffee.

Not good. Not good at all.

"Fifteen minutes," Hunter countered. "If we don't text or call within fifteen minutes, wake up every one."

Coveney stepped close to him and looked outside, no doubt finding nothing out of the ordinary.

Felines didn't have a sense of smell as acute as ordinary wolves; there was no chance that the Head Enforcer could distinguish as many nuances as Hunter.

"What do you know?" he asked.

"Someone - someone who knows me - is masking scents with freshly ground coffee."

Christine and both enforcers stiffened, understanding what he wasn't saying.

"The Vergas are here."

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