Authors: Kassanna
scrambling behind the trunk for cover. Her heartbeat sped up and she plastered herself to the rough
bark. A cold sweat formed on her skin and her vision flipped between hers and her animals. She
waited. No bullets tore through the vegetation around her. She inched forward, keeping her palm
against the oak.
She may not have grown up in the swamp and she’d never been able to shift but no one screwed
with her relatives, and as much as she hated to openly admit it, Jamison was the father of her child. He
was family. Crossing the bog was her only option. She could find a camp or maybe a few hunters to
help out. No matter, everyone carried guns and all she needed was one or two. Marree swooped down
and snatched up Jamison clothes. Give her some time and she could kill a bitch with the best of her
cousins.
Hang on, Jami, help or a weapon is coming, I’ll come back with whichever I find first.
Marree took another glance in the direction she thought the SUV was and turned to take another
route. As a snake, Jami wouldn’t need his clothes, but she could definitely use them in the marsh. She
knotted the slacks, shoes, and underwear in his shirt. Wrapping the bundle around her torso, she
jogged deeper into the swamp. She would show Jamison she could watch his back and be the mate he
needed. Her feet tangled in a tree root and she stumbled forward. Where the hell did that idea come
from? Being his mate was a stretch, but she could at least help make sure they made it out the bayou
alive. She rose to her feet and immediately started running.
So much time had passed, Cheryl had been wrong. Tears blurred her vision. She could be everything
and more to Jamison. Not an obstruction as that bitch of his mother had put it so many years ago.
They were both looking forward to graduation. Their dreams were finally coming to fruition with
her acceptance into School of Veterinary Medicine. He had his pick of law schools to attend. They
would be active and contributing members of the Constrictor Clutch. She couldn’t shift but, dammit,
she could help those who could. Then Cheryl paid her a visit while Jamison was at the library. With a
saccharine sweet smile she coaxed her way into their apartment.
Marree jumped a log, landing on her feet. She kept moving as fast as she could over the water-
logged ground. The conversation she had with Jamison’s mother played through her mind like a
recorder. So desperate to impress Cheryl, her excitement was palpable when the woman showed up,
unannounced. Marree had pulled out her best tea pot and the small service of china Loretta had given
her for Christmas one year. It was the first time she’d thought to use the thin bone white porcelain.
Her happiness was quickly doused when his mom reached in her purse and pulled out a wad of cash.
She met Marree’s gaze with cool disdain. “Here’s ten thousand dollars. Yours. You’re welcome to
take the money if you walk out my son’s life right now.”
Marree had been at a loss for words.
Cheryl paused before continuing. “Not enough?” She leaned forward and grabbed Marree’s hand.
Her palms had been leathery and bone chillingly cold. The skin on the back of her pale white fingers
was paper thin showing a network of blue tinged veins.
“I know you want to be a vet. Goddess knows Jamison has told me all about how you want to help
shifters.” She rolled her eyes. “There are reasons people remain at certain stations in society.
Sometimes clans aren’t meant to move up in the hierarchy. As Jamison’s mother it is my job to
protect him, and that includes keeping him safe from greedy young women who have no way of
helping him in his pursuit of becoming our clutch’s Alpha. I’ve received some very disturbing reports
including one which moved me to take this action.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Marree tilted her head and the kettle started to whistle. She
slid her hands free of the crazy woman’s grip.
“I’m saying that I know you’re pregnant and given your background I don’t believe the child is my
son’s. Furthermore, I won’t have you trying to saddle him with your bastard offspring.”
Marree rose from her chair and walked to the kitchen. She twisted the knob which turned off the
stove and strode back into the small sitting area. The idea that someone was watching her and
reporting to Jamison’s mother sent uncomfortable shivers up her spine. “I haven’t told anyone about
our baby,” she muttered.
A smug knowing grin lifted Cheryl’s lips. “Doesn’t matter. I know and I have ways of finding out
many things. So for the sake of child, I’m feeling benevolent. Take the money on the table and I’ll add
an additional fifteen thousand to the pot.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her checkbook
and pen. “That should help you with bills. Babies can be expensive.” She scribbled in the register, tore
off the slip and held out the thin rectangular piece of paper. “You must pack your things and leave
today. I’m expecting good news, and I want you gone before Jamison is notified.” She placed the
check on top of the cash.
“I think I’ll wait for Jami.”
Cheryl’s lips turned down. Her eyes flashed, exposing her beast before she masked her anger. “Yes,
let’s. Of course I would hate to show him these pictures of you with that human boy you’re always at
the student center with.” Jami’s mother dug into her bag and pulled out a stack of pictures. The images
didn’t reflect two friends putting their head together to figure out a problem. Instead they portrayed
lovers caught in a thrall of a secret meeting.
Marree tossed them on the table. “Like Jami would believe that.”
“I don’t know where you came from, and Loretta is tightlipped about your heritage, but do you
really want to challenge me?” Cheryl cocked a thin brow. “Jamison will trust me. I’m his mother and
I’ve always placed his wants ahead of my own.
And
he knows that. Even if he decides to stay with you
he will always have the seed of doubt I’ve planted, and it will overshadow everything he does with
your bastard baby. Just leave now and save yourself of having to do it a few years from now.” She
leaned back in her seat. “I’ll let you think about it.”
“Get out!” Marree’s stomach roiled. Vomit rose in her throat and she placed a protective hand over
her belly. His mother’s laughter rankled.
When the woman didn’t move, she marched to the other side of the room and started packing. If she
spent any more time with Jamison’s mother, she might strangle the woman. She only took a few
things, sure Jami would come and find her once he’d found out she’d left. Cheryl watched her from
beady eyes, tracking her movements as she hurried about the area. Once she had her things packed she
passed by the bitch without a second glance at her or her money. She waited, but Jami never came for
her.
She fell face first on the ground. Marree spit out the dirt and tried to wipe it off her tongue with her
hand. A tart, foul, grainy substance spread across her taste buds and she lurched forward on her knees
as her gut rebelled. What little she had in her stomach burned her throat as she puked. She staggered to
her feet and wiped the hand across her mouth. Something scuttled through the leaves and she skipped
to the side.
Over the years Mais had tried to teach her how to track, and recently Sasha had begun to train her in
self-defense moves. She would need both to get out of the situation she was in. Taking in a deep
breath, she closed her eyes and focused on what was happening around her. Nocturnal creatures were
making noise, so the smaller animals weren’t scared. She opened her eyes and lifted her arm to check
her watch. In the dark she couldn’t make out the hands on the face of her time piece. She looked up.
The half-moon was more than halfway past its zenith. It had to be early morning; four, maybe five
a.m. If nothing had happened to Jami, he should be able to find her easily.
She marched over to a tree and checked to see which side the any plant growth was on. That moss
always grew on the North side so she would need to head in the opposite direction. Betaille should
have been South of her. First, she needed to rest. She doubled over and placed her palms on her knees,
sucking in short breathes. The soles of her feet throbbed where she had run over the debris that littered
the ground.
Though her form never changed, she was a shifter and more important, a snake. At least that’s what
she’d always been told. Therefore she would handle this like her pride demanded. She hefted the
clothing bundle over her shoulder and marched on. One way or another she would find her way out of
the bog and not once did she doubt that Jamison was okay.
* * * *
interstate. Whatever Jamison was up to, he must have been in a hurry. It would have taken forever to
find him if she hadn’t stuck a tracker under his fender. With the ease of familiarity, she slipped out of
her four by four and soundlessly stalked over to Jamison’s vehicle. Bullet holes riddled the driver’s
side. She glanced around, seeking the possible source of the gunfire. Leaning into the seat she noted
the keys were still dangling from the ignition switch. She kept her gun low and her index finger on the
trigger. After walking around the SUV, she crossed the two lane highway to check beyond the cover of
foliage.
A hundred yards away from the truck, she found a spent pile of casings. She crouched to pick up the
empty cylinders, nine millimeter, semi-automatic. They were similar to the one she’d found from the
shot that had been fired at her the day before. She raised her chin and sniffed the air. Gun oil and
powder tickled her nose. Kiele separated the scents, pushing past the metallic odors. The harsh smell
of ammonia made her wrinkle her nose. That was anger and probably Jamison’s. A thin underlying
aroma of bitter almonds and perfume had to be Marree’s confusion. Finally, she reached the stinging
tang of cold resolve.
The attacker.
Kiele focused on that stench and followed the thread past Jamison’s
SUV into the water retention ditch. There was no stink of blood or death.
She climbed up the embankment and walked to her truck to grab a few items. Before she took a trek
into the marsh she needed to make a call. She opened the door and light from the interior cab spilled
out onto the asphalt. She pulled her company cell from the door and pressed the avatar for Heinrich.
She didn’t bother to wait for him to speak. When the line clicked she immediately spoke. “I don’t
know what game you’re up to but I don’t play well with others.”
Heinrich’s grainy voice made his words sound jumbled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
She inserted a strand of steel in her voice. “Kinda hard to do when you’re trying to play me against
another assassin.”
“What? Your clan is the only one I hired. That isn’t a bad idea considering you can’t seem to do
your damn job.”
“Coyote, I will wipe you and every fucking member of your family off the face of this earth if you
think for one minute you can double cross me.” She pressed her lips close to the mouth piece and
continued. “Actually I’d do it for free and consider it a public service. Call off your dogs before you
piss me off.”
“Do you know who I am?” Heinrich yelled. “I can make you disappear with a snap of my fingers.
You will complete your task and provide proof of death within twenty-four hours or you can bet that
tight ass you will be the one I’ll have eliminated next.”
“Listen you Shadow Clan bitch. The contracts are signed and in the hands of the Volkshire pack. My
target’s death is a moot point. As for me, well, I’m more valuable to your partners than you will ever
be.”
“I want the snake dead strictly on principle. I give less than a damn about the alliance. My plans
exceed what your tiny brain can comprehend. Your superiors will be hearing all about your reluctance
to complete your mission.”
“I’m okay with that, dog.” Her accent thickened. “I would suggest you start looking over your
shoulder because when this task is done, I’m coming for you. I bet my handler won’t mind either. That
pompous prick is probably tired of listening to your whiney ass also.” She disconnected the call and
reached into the back seat for her bag. It was time to go hunting. It had to be the same fucker she’d
tried to lure in to the deeper recesses of the bog. Something had spooked the bastard then, but she
wouldn’t lose her prey a second time.
She grabbed a few grenades from her bag and strapped them to her belt. Why she always ended up
with the cracked clients she would never understand. Just once she’d like to have a housewife with a
cheating spouse bent on revenge, a simple wham, bam you’re dead, man. But, no, she always got the
megalomaniacs with some serious mental issues. She pulled a few guns and clips out the duffle and