The creature laughed horribly, a high-pitched gurgle.
I'm going to have fun killing you, Macleod. But it's really all about
her
. She's got the bloodline, you know, the power.
What the hell are you talking about?
Bernie fell back on his haunches and hooted, hyena-like.
You gotta be kidding me, Macleod. You don't know? Then let me be the one to tell you what I'm taking away from you. Your red-haired bitch is
theriona
.
Theriona. Connor hadn't heard the word since he was a child, when his father told him stories of the ancient race. While Bernard Gervais was a well-known liar, he was also far older than any Changeling Connor knew of. Was there a chance he could be right? Jessie herself had said that Zoey wasn't exactly human, that she had powerful gifts. But Jessie, for all her wisdom, hadn't known what Zoey
was
. No one did, not even Zoey.
C'mon Bernie, there aren't any of those left.
You know nothing, you stupid pup. But I do. And once I open up her throat, all that power is going to be mine at last.
I think you're full of shit, Bernie. And you'll never touch her again.
The beast roared, spittle and blood flying from the dreadful teeth as its powerful forefeet clawed the ground.
You've forgotten I'm her sireâthink about all the things I can tell her to do. I can even make her
like
it. Maybe I should keep your woman alive for a while, Macleod. Use her for breeding. Maybe I should use
her
to create my new race.
Maybe you should ask her what she thinks about that.
Connor deliberately flicked his gaze over Bernie's shoulder. The rogue fell for the ruse and turned with a savage snarl, giving Connor the split-second opening he needed. Calling on all the energy he could draw from the earth and the air, he Changed to his human form. The .375 was cocked and loaded in his bleeding hands.
It happened fast. With a deafening roar, the demon that was Bernie spun and leapt at Connor. Just as his feet left the ground, the blast of the rifle echoed off the valley walls. Momentum carried the creature forward, but the rogue was dead before his massive bulk slammed to the ground, missing one eye and most of the back of his skull.
“Evolve from this, you murdering bastard.” Connor emptied the rest of the shells into the carcass, obliterating the head. Changelings could recover from wounds that would be fatal to a normal wolf, and he was taking no chances in case the rogue's healing ability had been as enhanced as his muscles and teeth.
The ringing echoes had barely subsided when Connor became aware of a strange crackling in the air around him. The hair on his head lifted, floating as if he was underwater and he realized with a jolt that the death of what once was Bernie had released energy.
A ton of it.
There was a sudden wrenching groan from deep in the earth. Connor jumped back as the ground trembled, shifted, but there was nowhere to go. The very hillside itself gave way beneath him and slid several hundred feet to the river below.
Chapter Twenty-five
T
he jeep bumped and lurched over the increasingly rocky terrain, as Zoey drove as fast as she dared, and then faster. The gravel road had given way to twin ruts running between fields. But the ruts had proved easier going than the potholed goat path she was currently on. Still her senses pushed her forward, leading herâshe hopedâto the place in her vision. Praying she would be in time.
Without warning, the voice in her head shrieked at her to stop. She jammed on the brakes, rammed the shift into
park
and ran from the truck, not even bothering to close the door. The field was rimmed with trees and brush and she could just see the valley beyond it, so she knew she was near the edge ofâ
The grassy field vibrated beneath her feet, resonating through her entire body until she could feel it in her bones, her teeth. Then it stopped.
Zoey backed away on jellied legs. Where trees had stood moments ago, there was only a great sprawling spill of earth. For an instant it was like looking straight down a long ski slope. Then the scene resolved into churned soil and tumbled rock, broken trees and buried brush. It was sheer luck that the slide had started just beyond her and hadn't taken out the spot where she stood.
Heart pounding, she drew a shaky breath as her senses returned. Her psychic senses returned too, leading her eye down the length of the slide to the river below. The Peace River was no longer peaceful, no longer the calm blue ribbon that looped through the valley. Even from the top of the coulee, she could see the water was wild, swirling with mud and debris from this and several other slides.
Suddenly she spotted the tree from her vision.
The massive root ball protruded above the fallen debris in a sweeping half circle. The rest of the tree was in the wild water. With most of its branches stripped away, the broad trunk of the old forest king looked like an incomplete bridge. The psychic message persistedâsomehow she
had
to get to that tree. And she had to do it fast. She had no idea what she would do when she got there but the vision she'd received had been plain. Connor would be somewhere in the midst of the angry river, battling to keep his head above the deadly water. Getting to the fallen tree was her only hope of saving the man she loved.
Zoey forced herself to take a step forward. The entire slide area looked unstable. Here and there clumps of dirt and rocks tumbled down its face. She looked for a way to climb around it but the swath of destruction was wide, fanning out even farther as it approached the riverbank. She took another step and another, and watched in horror as her feet sank and her movements set loose a shower of unstable soil. How could she hope to get to the tree in any kind of a hurry? Connor was going to die before she could make it partway down the goddamn hill.
“Help me, I don't know what to do!” She reached out to embrace every nuance of her psychic gift, opening herself up to it completely as she had never dared before.
Something inside her answered. Something she'd never heard before yet was strangely familiar. Something decidedly not human. Still, she knew without doubt that it could help her, that it was the answer she sought.
There was no time to ponder the insanity of it all, to consider pros and cons or even to feel the fear that was turning her insides to water. No time to consider that she had no idea what she was doing. Connor was in danger, and so she had to try. Jessie had said that strength came out of wholeness.
When you truly need your strength, all of your strength, you'll need to draw on your whole self.
Calling on every bit of courage she could claim, Zoey gave herself up to the energy, the entity within.
Immediately she was hot, so hot. Sweat soaked her clothing, ran down her face. Her breath hitched and she was suddenly
more
. What was within her was moving to the surface rapidly, almost franticallyâbut it wasn't alien in the least. With a burst of insight, she realized that this inner self was as much a part of her as her freckles.
Yes.
She spread her arms wide and closed her eyes, embracing the sudden duality of awareness. For an instant she was in harmony with everything within her and around her. The sun, the sky, the grass, the earthâall one with her, all feeding her their strength. Tiny sounds like paper crumpling signaled the buildup of electricity in the air.
And then it began.
Zoey fell awkwardly to her knees, buried her hands in the dry grass, knotted her fingers in it, clung for support as she began to shiver uncontrollably.
Bones lengthened, others shortened. Muscles heaved and joints popped. She gritted her teeth, cursing, moaning, clinging to the image of Connor in her mind with all her strength. The moans turned into a sharp prolonged cry as her face contorted and lengthened, as her tailbone uncurled and extended. Fingers shortened, toughened and became paws. Fair skin darkened, blushed gold as soft fur erupted everywhere at once. Blue sparks flew from the tawny pelt.
The cry became a scream. It echoed over the valley and bounced back to her as a long, drawn-out howl.
Then silence.
Zoey drew a deep breath, then another. She could hear the beat of her own heart, the surge of blood in her veins, the rush of air into her lungs. Her awareness fanned outward. The air made delicate sounds as it moved through the blades of grass. Insects thrummed. A tiny rodent wandered nearby and she could hear its footsteps, hear its teeth as it sampled a plant stem. She drew the air through her nostrils and tasted the scents that came with it, sorted out the one that was
mouse
. She shook herself all over, felt the slide of skin and the toss of fur over her entire body. Did it again because it felt so good. Glanced down at her hands.
Omigod, I have paws.
She picked them up one at a time. Her limbs were altered, different. For one surreal moment, she panicked at the strangeness of it all. Then ordered herself to
get a grip
, shook herself again and stepped forward tentatively, testing her balance. To her surprise, it was unexpectedly natural to walk with four legs instead of two.
She raised her head. Her eyesight was keen, the focus sharp and bright. She swept her gaze over the slide, down to the river. Saw the wild water and the fallen tree.
Connor. Connor would be there.
Without hesitation, Zoey threw herself over the edge of the coulee, hitting the loose ground running. And took the fastest, most direct route to the riverâstraight down the very back of the barely-settled slide, racing flat out, uncaring if she brought the whole cliffside down.
Â
Connor was fighting for his life. The slide had thundered down beneath him, forcing him to scramble and fight to stay on top of the tumbling earth. It was like riding the back of an avalanche. He had nearly made it, too, almost escaped when a poplar tree had been flipped end over end by the slide. The uppermost branches had caught him and swept him into the flooded river.
He was pulled under immediately and had to battle to regain the surface. But it wasn't much safer up there. Huge chunks of debris pushed at him, crashed into him, threatened to shove him under again. The wild current was far too strong for him to be able to fight his way to shore. Fingers of colder water pulled at him from beneath, an undertow that could drag him down. The roar of the water was deafening.
Changeling instincts brought out the inner wolf when threatened and Connor had to fight to persuade his body to stay human. His wolfen form would be disadvantaged here. His only hope was to be able to grab something and hang on, and for that, he needed human hands.
He clung to a heavy tree limb, grateful to ride along for a moment and conserve his strength. He had little left, and he was having trouble drawing much from the water. The roiling energy it contained was too chaotic to control. He was chilled to the bone, wounded, exhausted, and his body was being hammered and scraped by the debris in the water. A human would have drowned already. But even a Changeling wouldn't last forever against the force of the turbulent river. If he didn't think of something fast, he'd die here.
Finally Connor caught sight of what might be his best chance. Far ahead, a sliver of earth jutted into the river, the result of another slide. A giant of a tree lolled on its side, reaching nearly a third of the way across the river. The branched crown had been battered away by the brunt of the current and the debrisâbut half of the tree's massive root ball was still buried, anchored now by the very slide that had torn it from the hillside far above.
Connor also saw that the powerful current would take him past the tree, swing him just out of reach unless he started angling his way over to it now. Reaching deep for everything he had, he let go of the limb and swam for his life.
He snagged the tree with the tips of his fingers, caught and clung to the end of a broken branch. Muscles screamed and cracked ribs shrieked as he fought to hang on against the force of the current. The tree was a thick and ancient poplar, with a profusion of small branches down the entire length of the trunk. Handholds galore, an abundance of hope. With them he might just make it to the roots at the toe of the landslideâand safety.
The greedy undertow sucked at Connor's body, dragged at him, as he struggled to pull himself along. He wound his hands, his arms into the blessed branches and allowed himself to rest a moment. His lungs burned and ached, it hurt to breathe, but he could no longer feel the rest of his body. He was cold and tired, so very tired . . . then a sudden movement of the massive poplar jolted him into full alert. He turned his head in time to see the root ball that anchored the tree roll ever so slightly. A couple of inches maybe.
Shit.
The toe of the slide was probably unstable, the current gouging away the dirt beneath. He had to move, had to get to shore before the tree washed away. It was only thirty, maybe thirty-five feet away from him but it looked like a mile.
It was a battle to persuade his numb body, his rubbery arms, to cooperate. He managed a few feet, stopping frequently to rest and seek his next handhold. It was brutally hard going, but he was going to make itâ
Without warning, a terrible impact slammed the breath from his lungs, stunned him. Above the roar of the water he thought he heard his own ribs breaking. Then he knew nothing at all.
Â
Grateful for the speed of her new form, Zoey raced down the ruined hillside, leaping broken trees, clambering over rocks and debris. Finally she rounded the exposed roots of the forest king and leapt onto its broad trunk.
Connor!
He was unconscious, his face barely out of the water. His arms and hands were wound in the tangle of broken boughs, but lax and sliding. Only his shirt, snagged on a jutting branch, kept him from being swept under by the brutal current. And the shirt wouldn't hold him for long.
Zoey tried to walk out to him but the bark was smooth and wet, the trunk shuddering and vibrating with the force of the wild river. Worse, the tree rolled slightly. Her wolfen feet slipped again and again, claws scrabbling wildly, finding little purchase. She would never get to Connor in time. Even in human form she wouldn't have the surefootedness to reach him or the strength to pull him to safety. On top of that, the tree was being tugged loose from the spill of earth that held it. Eventually it would give and pitch them both into the raging waters to their death.
That cold realization cleared her mind. And allowed her to hear something inside, calling out to her, offering what she needed.
It was outrageous. It was desperate. And it was necessary. She had no reason to hope it would work, but she had nothing else left to try. Trembling, she closed her eyes for a split second and focused. She needed balance, balance and muscle, and claws for when balance and muscle failed. She needed something she had seen enough to be able to build a detailed picture in her head. Then she knew. A photo assignment had once entailed several visits to a wildlife rehab center. And had gotten her up close and personal with a creature being prepared for release.
She Changed, instantly and easily. And ran to Connor on sure feet.
A puma's body was amazingly strong, all muscle. A big cat could easily break the neck of an elk, an animal far bigger and heavier than itself, then grab the carcass in its jaws and drag it wherever it pleased. But, Zoey thought as she gently seized the back of Connor's shirt in her teeth, the puma wouldn't have to be careful of its prey, wouldn't be restricted to moving scant inches at a time. She could tell that Connor was terribly injured, and prayed that she wouldn't make his wounds worse. His heavy denim shirt tore a little and she was forced to pause and shift her grip.
The trunk beneath them shuddered violently, swung a little, and Zoey used her long curving claws to dig in and steady herself. It would take forever to reach the foot of the tree at this rate.
Suddenly she heard Jessie's familiar voice shouting over the rushing water. “You can do it, girl! We're right here. We'll take him from you when you get here.”
Out of the corner of her eye Zoey spotted Jessie and Bill, standing knee-deep in the wild river at the foot of the tree, hanging onto its branches as the water gouged at the slide beneath it. As she watched, two wolves ran up behind them and resolved into Culley and Devlin. More wolves were racing along the riverbanks. She could see Geoff Lassiter and Holt LaLonde. Even little Jeannie Rousseau appeared. The cavalry had arrived if she could just get to them. She
would
get to them. She had to.