Читать книгу Shifter's Destiny - Anna Leonard - Страница 11

Her yelp woke Maggie in a rush, the teenager sitting upright and looking automatically in the direction her sister was staring. Maggie let out a startled noise as well, scooting backward on her knees to where her sister stood, instinctively seeking protection from this stranger. Fleetingly Elizabeth rued the loss of the little girl who was open and friendly to everyone, even as she was putting herself between this unknown man and her sister.

Better that Maggie be cautious. Better that Maggie be safe.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked, trying to see if there was anyone creeping up behind them without taking her eyes off the immediate threat. He wasn’t very tall, with broad shoulders and a wide-set stance that made her think of gunslingers in old Western movies, and was dressed in faded black jeans and a dark red pullover. His hair was honey-blond, his skin tanned, as though he spent most of his time outdoors, and his eyes, watching her, were a deep, dark brown that stirred something in her, some sense of familiarity, of long-lost comfort. She distrusted the feeling immediately.

“Hush,” the stranger said, in a voice that was low and raspy, as though he was recovering from a sore throat, or didn’t speak often. “Those men are in the woods, looking for you again, and your shrieks carry like a siren.”

Elizabeth felt her jaw drop open, and then closed it again with a snap. The worried look in those eyes softened the harshness of his words, and the fact that he knew what was happening, and seemed intent on helping them…

Her ability to trust had been severely strained over the past few months, and there was nothing that said this man was any different than Jordan and his cronies, but… she had to make a choice right then and there. She chose to trust him.

“It’s all right, Maggie,” she said as quietly as she could. “Just be still.”

The stranger stood there, listening to something, then all of a sudden he seemed to relax, and Elizabeth felt herself breathing more easily, too.

“They’ve gone back to their cars,” he said, as though talking to himself, not them. “Getting you out of here is going to be tricky, now, but staying isn’t going to work, either.” His already square jaw firmed even more in annoyance. “Damn it, I don’t have time for this. If I get you out of here, you’re on your own.”

Elizabeth wanted to make a sarcastic retort to that, but she was still too shocked, and afraid to antagonize the one person who had been willing to help them, whatever his reasons.

“Who are you?” Maggie asked. “Do… do we know you?” Her voice had an expectant quality, as though half hoping for a reassuring response.

The man hesitated, as though not wanting to answer, and then grinned. It wasn’t a friendly grin, or a reassuring one. “We met last night.”

“We met…” Elizabeth stared at him blankly, and then Maggie shrieked in excitement, immediately clapping her hands over her mouth when they both looked down, horrified at the noise.

“You were… Oh, my God, you were the unicorn!”

“Maggie, don’t be ridiculous,” Elizabeth said automatically, even as her sister got to her feet and walked toward the stranger.

“You are, aren’t you? That is so cool, totally amaze!”

Even as she was shaking her head, trying to come up with some other explanation, Elizabeth was amused at her sister’s words. For a while there, before the flu struck, everything had been “amaze.” “Totally amaze” was Maggie’s highest praise.

“Are you a unicorn who turns into a man, or a man who turns into a unicorn? I think you’re prettier as a unicorn.”

Elizabeth bit back a grin at the man’s rather startled and somewhat annoyed reaction to her sister’s artless question and statement. She didn’t agree at all with Maggie’s assessment—the horse had been a handsome animal but the man was… well, he was a handsome animal, too, she admitted.

“Maggie. That was rude.”

Her sister looked at her, eyes wide. “How is it rude?”

“Ah…” She looked helplessly at the stranger, who scowled back at her. “Men aren’t pretty. They’re handsome.” They also didn’t magically transfer from man to horse, or back again, but knocking Maggie’s fantasy would be cruel, right now. If that was how she dealt with the stress, it was harmless enough. He seemed willing to go along with it, despite the scowl, so that was either a point in his favor or really creepy—and that still didn’t get to the question of how this man knew them, or…

“Was the horse yours? We’re terribly sorry, we didn’t mean… It appeared when we needed it—we would have returned it, if we knew where it came from….”

There was no way that she was going to explain to this man how his horse had literally rescued them. She knew what had happened, but the words couldn’t come out of her mouth.

“Libby, I told you! He is the unicorn!”

“Maggie…” It was one thing to indulge Maggie’s fantasies, but Elizabeth wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go with that.

“It’s true! You know I know!”

Maggie’s voice had a strained, pleading quality to it. Her sister wasn’t the sort to make up stories—she didn’t need to. But this was asking too much for even Elizabeth to believe.

Josh fought down his growing irritation, unable to believe that he was standing there while two females argued over his identity. Hell, he couldn’t believe that they were even having that argument. No sane human being could believe in unicorns at all, much less one that shifted between human and horse form; it was the stuff of legends and myths, not reality. Were they insane? Had he stumbled upon a pair of escapees from a mental hospital? If so, they were two seriously good-looking patients: the girl was still coltish and awkward, but her sister had an elegance that only added to her striking good looks. And those eyes… When she had turned and he’d gotten his first real look at those dark, almond-shaped eyes, something inside him had plummeted all the way from his head to his knees. He suspected it might have been his brain.

The last thing he needed in his life right now was complications—more complications, he amended ruefully—and time was wasting. He needed to be on his way. And yet, something had made him come to their rescue… and that something wouldn’t let him leave them stranded here, even though every bit of horse sense he had was telling him to go, now.

He had spent all night standing watch over them, listening to them sleep, the way a herd stallion would watch over his mares. The need to protect them was still strong enough to override his own instinct for self-preservation, his need to be moving, to follow the tug in his gut before it destroyed him.

“Damn it, the last thing I need are two females on my back.” Literally. Although they’d both stayed on quite well—long and lean, like natural riders. He felt a burn start at the thought of a woman riding him, and beat it down fiercely. Bad enough that he had to deal with this damnable rut, he wasn’t going to let it overtake his larger head, too.

The rut demanded that he move, that he find his mate, and complete the natural cycle of the Mustang. So why had he come to help them, stayed with them—why the hell had he allowed them to see him in both forms? He was nearly thirty, old enough to know better, damn it, not act like some fool yearling.

“It’s my fault,” the younger one—Maggie—said suddenly, as though hearing his thoughts. “I called you.”

“Maggie!”

The older girl—woman—sounded scandalized.

Maggie refused to be silenced. “He deserves to know, doesn’t he? I didn’t mean to, I was just so scared when those guys showed up, and then he was within reach, and…” The girl shrugged helplessly, and he revised his estimate of her age—she couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. No wonder his instinct kicked in; she was barely a yearling herself. But what did she mean—called him?

“It’s a gift,” she said, hearing his thoughts again, somehow. “I’ve always been able to do it. Call animals, I mean. Libby doesn’t want me to tell anyone, because people get scared, but you should know. Because I’m sorry. It’s one thing to call an animal, but not a person. That’s not polite.”

Josh felt like someone had punched him in the chest. “You called me. Right.” Nobody called him; he was broken to no damned halter. No Mustang ever answered to any call but their own desires.

“I did.” She sounded almost insulted that he didn’t believe her. “I didn’t mean to, but you were there and you heard me, I guess. You don’t believe me. That’s okay, nobody ever does. Watch.”

She turned away from him, a defiant tilt to her shoulders, and stared into the limbs of the tree above them. He turned to the older girl—a young woman, closer to his own age than her sister—but she was watching Maggie with a worried expression on her face. Because she was crazy, both of them were crazy? Or because the girl was about to do something that worried her? He turned back to watch the younger girl, waiting for an answer.

“There,” Maggie said, speaking up into the tree. “Hello, little one. Come down here, please?”

He got the feeling that she was speaking out loud for his benefit, not her own, and then all thought fled as a large reddish-brown squirrel jumped down from the branches and scurried across the ground to wait at Maggie’s feet, beady black eyes bright, plump tail fluffed in anticipation, perched on its haunches as though awaiting further instructions.

“Be careful,” he found himself warning her. “It might have rabies, or…”

“It doesn’t,” she said confidently, and bent down to pick the squirrel up. It not only allowed her to handle it, but the rodent also ducked its head under her hand as though anticipating a caress. He would have sworn it was a domesticated pet, except that there was no way…

“All right, Maggie,” her sister said. She sounded tired, still worried, but amused at the same time. “You’ve proven your point. Now put greykins down—you know full well that even the gentle ones carry germs and ticks, and all sorts of things that you can’t protect yourself from.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie said, and let the squirrel go. It paused, as though disappointed, and then its natural caution resumed and it scampered up the nearest tree, an outraged chittering floating down back to them.

“It didn’t like being summoned,” he said dryly, his mood made worse, not better, by proof of her claims. He had been yanked off his course by a teenager’s whim?

“Oh, it’s just cranky,” Maggie said airily. “Squirrels are always cranky. Are you? I’m sorry, I really am. I just never thought the animals minded so much, being summoned—they never seem to object.” Her expression changed as she suddenly considered that they might, indeed, object.

“I’m not an animal.” Was he annoyed? Josh thought that he might be, now that he’d had proof shoved in his face; this slip of a girl had managed to pull him away from his own agenda, tangling him up in whatever was going on with her and her sister without so much as a by-your-leave or pretty-please.

Still. Remembering the man who had been threatening them, the cruel grip on the woman’s hair, the way the other man had twisted Maggie’s arms… he couldn’t regret coming to their aid, no matter how he had ended up there.

But it ended now. They were safe, and he had his own plans to follow through on. Plans that carried their own urgency.

“Maggie.” The older girl, Libby, sat on a fallen tree trunk and shook her head at her sister in dismay. “You’re hopeless.”

Despite his annoyance, there was something about the older girl that intrigued him even more than her unusual sister. He eyed her carefully. Tall and lean, he had noted that already. Striking more than pretty. Lovely long dark hair past her shoulders, loosed from the ponytail, and now tangled with leaves and twigs like a dryad. Wide dark brown eyes and dusky skin, a full mouth and a proud Roman nose that was somehow more enchanting than any upturned pug or cute button could ever be. His gaze traveled lower. Her long-sleeved T-shirt didn’t disguise a rounded chest, neither too large nor too small but just about right for cupping in his hands, and a long waist that tapered to hips his fingers itched to span. And those legs, stretched out in front of her…

He’d already felt how those legs felt, wrapped around him, her lower half molding to his as they moved. He’d had people—other women—on his back before, but they had mostly been his own herd, cousins and second cousins, the occasional human who knew their secret already. Never a stranger. Never a stranger with eyes that heated his imagination as much as his body.

“I don’t suppose you’re a virgin?” he asked suddenly.

Her jaw fell open, and a blush stained her cheeks, visible even in the morning light. “No.”

She was quite certain about that and he shrugged inwardly. Oh, well. It had been a long shot, anyway.

“And you said I was rude?” Maggie asked, her eyes wide with astonishment.

He didn’t explain why he had asked, but scowled at them again. “So why were those men after you, anyway?” He didn’t care, really. But it was a way to put them on the defensive, rather than mocking him, or asking questions.

Libby stared at him, her scowl not quite a match for his own, but close. “We appreciate your assistance,” she said, not answering the question, “but we need to be on our way now.” Her tone was frostily polite, a verbal slap. “I don’t suppose you could point us in the direction of the nearest police station? Then you can find your horse and be on your way.”

Apparently, she was less convinced than her sister of his dual nature, or just determined to be contrary. Josh wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or annoyed. Not that he went around announcing himself to strangers—to anyone—but he didn’t like being doubted, either.

But this gave him the perfect excuse to leave. Why then, suddenly, did he not want to?

“Libby, I told you!” Maggie looked as though she was about to stomp her foot on the ground, very much like a frustrated yearling.

“Hush, child,” he said. “Your sister is quite right, you two need to be on your way, before your hunters come back. I’ll finish the job my… horse started, and get you out of the woods. But after that you’re on your own, understand?” He looked at Maggie as he said that, and she nodded once in understanding. There would be no more summoning of him, however she had actually done it.

Did he believe that she could call animals, control them? Even if he denied that she had influenced him at all—he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea—he had seen a sample for himself, and… really, who was he to question other people’s oddities? The Mustang family was nothing more than legend and fairy tale to most folk, but he was quite real. A girl who could talk to the animals was commonplace, compared to his bloodline.

“There’s a stream down that way—” He jerked his chin toward the slope. “You might want to wash up there, make yourself a little more presentable.” Unable to stop himself, he reached out and plucked a twig from Libby’s tangle of hair, holding it up in front of her face as evidence. “A comb or brush wouldn’t hurt, either, if you have one.”

She pursed her mouth as though about to say something, then shook her head and sighed, reaching down to pick up her backpack, a rugged olive-drab thing scuffed enough that it might have seen actual military service at some point. Maggie giggled, for the first time sounding like a girl her age, and picked up her own knapsack, a bright blue one that looked like it should be holding schoolbooks and lunch, not… whatever she had crammed in there. A toothbrush, he hoped.

He needed to reclaim his own pack, stashed in a tree when he had shifted to go to their rescue. Thankfully, clothing on his two-legged form merged into four-legged hide somehow, but the things they carried, even in pockets, the magic did not recognize. Even his wallet and spare change had to stay in his pack at all times, or risk being magicked out of existence. He was used to improvising, after a shift. He ran a tongue thoughtfully across his teeth, and grimaced. He really wished he had his toothbrush with him right now, though.

Libby took her sister’s hand and led her through the circle of trees. He couldn’t see them anymore but he could hear them—and scent them. If they ran into trouble, he could be there in an instant.

Not that he was still protecting them. Damn it.

“He’s cute.”

“Maggie, go dunk your head.”

The stream wasn’t deep enough to actually bathe in, and the water was cold enough to feel sharp against her skin, but Elizabeth washed her face and rinsed her mouth, rummaging in her bag for the travel kit she had shoved in there the day before. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

He was cute, their grumpy rescuer. She was a breathing heterosexual female; she wasn’t going to not notice that. But he was also clearly impatient to be rid of them, and she wasn’t going to rely on a stranger, not when even those she’d called family had turned on them, the town she’d been raised in had gone dark and threatening. No, it would be best to take his help and then be gone themselves, as fast as possible.

Wash-up done as best she could, Elizabeth got out a brush and sat down to attack her tangled hair. Her father used to call her hair black silk, but right now it felt more like wool, rough and gritty, and in dire need of carding. Thankfully, once she picked out the leaves and twigs the worst of it was quickly tamed, and she braided it. Her sister’s wash-up finished with considerably more splashing and face-making at the cold, and she motioned Maggie over to sit, cross-legged in front of her, while Elizabeth redid her braid in the same fashion. The stranger—she didn’t even know his name!—was right; they needed to look presentable, if they were going to try to make the police believe them.

That gave her pause, fingers holding three strands of hair motionless as she realized what she was planning. Was she really going to go to the police? She was, yes.

“Libby?”

“Yes, baby,” she said, her fingers moving again, tying off the braid with a scrunchie from her pocket.

“He was the unicorn. He really was.”

“Maggie…”

“He was.”

She couldn’t see her sister’s face, but she could hear the halfhearted pout in the words. A man who changed into a unicorn. A were-unicorn?

Elizabeth tugged slightly on the braid, to indicate that she was done. Her baby sister talked to animals. She herself dreamed the future, however confused and clouded. Did she really have room to deny the possibility of weirder things out there?

“Then where were his clothes, when he changed? And… how can he be smaller than the horse? The laws of physics, baby.”

“Libby…” Now her sister sounded exasperated, staring out across the creek. “It’s magic.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Okay,” she said, neither agreeing nor denying anything her sister said. “Come on. Let’s go back before whoever he is gets tired of waiting, and leaves us here.”

The self-appointed guardian was pacing back and forth when they got back, not worried so much as… alert. Elizabeth had a sudden flash of a stallion, proud and wild, standing on a cliff, looking out across the plains, then the image was gone, and it was just the three of them, surrounded by pine trees and danger. He gave them a once-over, and nodded.

“This way.”

There was no conversation as they walked, accompanied by the early morning sounds of birds and other small animals. Maggie was good and kept her attention focused on where they were going, so not a single creature kept them company—at least, not obviously. The daylight grew brighter, and Elizabeth felt more and more aware of the fact that she had slept in her clothing. There were pine needles in her socks and down the back of her shirt, and her jacket was still damp from the dew, and she just felt unbelievably grimy and wrinkled. At this point, she would trade all the sleep she had managed last night, even with the good dreams, for ten minutes under a hot shower.

Soon they heard the distant whoosh of cars passing by, and an airplane flying overhead, breaking into the peaceful silence of the reserve. Elizabeth felt her body tense at the reminders of civilization, and then the trees thinned, and they came to a high wire fence, blocking them in.

It was twice the height of the fence they had gone over on the other side of the forest, and there were jagged curls of barbed wire on the top. How were they supposed to get over that?

“This way,” the man said, gesturing to a small slice in the fence.

Elizabeth wondered how their guide knew about it, or if he had made it himself, but thought better of asking.

“They should repair that,” Maggie said primly, even as she was slipping through, her bag held low to fit through. Elizabeth went next, and then their guide followed, having to maneuver his broader frame carefully to avoid being snagged on the wires. The fence was at the top of a small grassy rise alongside a paved two-lane road, lined at intervals with telephone poles.

“This is the county road,” he said. “There’s a town about a mile or so down that way.”

“Thank you,’ Elizabeth said again, and suddenly remembered her manners. “I’m sorry, we never formally introduced ourselves. I’m Elizabeth. This is Margaret.” She didn’t give their last names, just in case.

“Good luck” was all he said in return, and then turned and went back through the fence, and disappeared into the woods.

“Wow,” Maggie said, watching him go with a disappointed look on her face. “I really liked him better as a unicorn.”