Page 60 of Redeemed
“Yeah.”
“The house has motion sensor lights on each corner,” David says, “and there seems to be a lot of activity inside.”
I reach them. If they think it’s odd that I arrived late, they don’t show it. “How can you tell?”
“Lights turning on and off.” Connor gestures toward the house, where on cue, the light in a big window blinks out.
“And lots of silhouettes, people moving around,” David adds.
A new light flashes on, accompanied by a surge of raucous laughter. A trio of dark figures spills out of an open door and heads around the house.
“The back yard is terraced.” Connor’s attention is on the place the figures disappeared. “I think there’s a pool on one of the levels, although we got disinvited before we had a chance to do more than take a quick look.”
“Disinvited.” David snickers.
“That sounds painful,” I say, trying to shake off the cold fear Jacques left me with. I wish I knew whether it was my command that got rid of him, or if he’d have left anyway.
“What we need is someone on the inside to tell us how many are in there.”
“Someone like Dash Dolivo?” David gives Connor a speculative look.
Connor pivots so he’s facing the house. “I wonder if he’s in there.”
“We could ask your…Morrigan.”
Connor rolls his shoulders, laughing softly. “There are a whole lotta ways that could end, and most of them are bad.”
The door opens again. “We’re too exposed right here,” I say.
Someone is coming. Someone we don’t want to see. I take a step in the direction of the car. “Come on.”
David inhales sharply. “Werecat.” He moves, too.
“We haven’t really learned anything.” Connor’s standing at the corner of the lawn. I don’t see anyone else, but the air carries a pungent odor, and if David says it’s a werecat, I believe him.
“Come on,” I say, my voice little more than a hiss.
“But—” Connor’s cut off when a huge grey cat the size of a panther launches itself across the lawn and lands at his feet. Connor’s got both hands out when he should be going for his gun.
A second werecat lopes up. It’s just as large as the first one; its coat is coal black and long fangs curve down from its upper jaw.
With a curse about ruining perfectly good jeans, David shifts. His wolf is the size of those cats and to my ear, his growl is more threatening. Connor’s still holding his hands out, locked in a stare down with the first werecat. “I’m going to shift, too,” he says, “and when I do, I want you to run.”
Not likely. “Sure.”
“I mean it, Trajan. David and I’ll each take a cat, and you get to the car and get it started.”
That makes slightly more sense. With a lightning-quick move, Connor tosses me the keys. They land at my feet, and by the time I scoop them up, there’s a thickly-muscled draft horse where Connor had been standing.
David and the black werecat are circling each other. The cat howls and feints, but David doesn’t react. He’s ready when the werecat pivots and leaps at him. They come together in a fury of teeth and flashing claws. Blood sprays, although I can’t identify the source. David gives a sharp, barking growl and lunges.
The werecat springs out of his path. Both of them are bloody. Both of them are breathing hard. Connor and the other werecat are locked in an awkward dance, the big horse proving to be just as fast and nearly as agile. I’m torn between making sure my lovers are safe and getting us all out of there.
The confrontation has drawn the attention of the three who’d come out earlier. They come from behind the house at a jog, hollering at each other in one of the Slavic languages. Strigoi. Undead like vampires, they don’t survive as long and retain less of their memory and intelligence.
Perfect fodder for a war.
“Come on,” I shout, striding toward the car with my attention still on the ongoing fights. Connor has his werecat pinned with one heavy hoof, but David.David. He’s tangled with the black werecat, and for a moment he falters. The cat locks its jaw on his shoulder, its rear paws clawing at David. If the thing gets its claws into his belly, David could be seriously injured.
