Chapter Twelve
Gravel crunched, twigs snapped and rogue branches scraped against her Plymouth as Navi drove deeper into the thick woods in this area, farther and farther away from civilization. Finn’s presence dwarfed her car and even with the windows down and the cool night breezes streaming in, she found it hard to breathe. She’d be lying if she claimed she hadn’t stayed awake staring at the ceiling and wondering all last night if he’d found his way to Raven’s bed.
Navi shouldn’t care, since the most she might get with him was one more scorching night. Except the thought of him with someone else twisted her insides to knots and made her panther rage with a ferocity that almost brought her claws out.
“Your Rossi friend’s been dabbling with dangerous folks,” she murmured, trying to keep her eyes on the road ahead and not drifting to the muscled, gorgeous guy by her side. “The meth I found in the auto shop didn’t smell the same—it’s been laced with shamanic magic somehow. And my compulsion hasn’t been working on the Landsliders. Either the reason is magical, or Mackey’s got a hold on them that’s trumping our abilities.”
“How exactly does that work?” Finn asked, leaning back in his seat with a creak. “You could compel shifters to do your bidding? Seems like an unfair advantage.”
Navi’s temper simmered. She’d been saddled with this responsibility from a young age, and she’d dealt with the blaze of fear folks looked at her with every time they understood what she could do. No one bothered to try to understand why the Tribe had been given these abilities—why they were necessary to govern. The job was thankless—they came and risked their lives to break up shifter conflicts when needed and, once they’d done their job, most packs wanted them far away as fast as possible.
“Yeah, because we’re supposed to regulate you assholes with no weapons to our advantage, nothing but ourselves to combat a bunch of hotheaded beasts ready to maul each other. With the amount of folks who hate our guts, it doesn’t matter how powerful we are—one against an entire pack ends poorly.” Her Plymouth rolled over bigger stones at this point in the pathway, branches sweeping over the roof of her car. She winced at the scratching sound.
“So you guys use your compulsion like a cop with a gun,” Finn said, drumming his fingers along the side of the window. “What do you do about corrupt cops in the system, though?” His gaze pierced her through. Navi pursed her lips, the words stolen. As fast, her irritation deflated in the face of the understanding and empathy Finn offered. In the way he could relate so readily to her and never once backed away in fear.
“They’re rare—the spirits are picky about who they bond with. However, in those instances, we hunt the bastard down. Mackey might have once been a comrade, but the second he started down his path of using his abilities for his own selfish exploits, the second he helped the Landsliders to rise, he became the exact nightmare we’re meant to protect the shifter populace from.”
Up ahead, a cabin came into view, the orange glow of dim lamps emanating from the window.
“Looks like your shaman friend kept the midnight oil burning,” Finn murmured, finishing another cigarette. “Did you call to give him the heads-up, or are we busting in on this poor guy’s fortress of solitude?”
Navi snorted. “Of course not. Surprise visits mean no time to cover up anything hinky. Shamans might have been our companions all these years, but Mackey has a unique way of turning people to his side.”
She pulled her Plymouth into Park. When she stepped out of her car, the mystical energy swept over her with a thick stickiness in the air worse than the late summer humidity. Shifters had a special connection with shamans, having been created by those ancient magic users. With the Tribe, doubly so. Rich incense hung heavy in the stagnant air and the oily taste of magic with every breath made her nerves buzz with awareness.
Finn’s eyes gleamed amber, his wolf showing. “Holy fuck. This place is loaded with power.”
Navi hid her grin. “Have you ever been around shamans before?” she asked, leading the way toward a front door covered by painted chalk-white symbols. Animal skulls rested on the railings of the porch, bleached over time. Patches of flowers, thick leaves and tall grasses bloomed all around the perimeter of the cabin. Navi didn’t have to guess every plant in the bunch could be used for something. Shamans utilized nature’s tools to perform their magic, and herbs were an intrinsic part of their rituals.
“Nope,” he responded. “You’re about to pop my shaman cherry.” Finn stepped up behind her, his shadow stretching past and his presence making her body spark with awareness. No matter how much she tried to argue with herself, the electricity between them was undeniable.
“You’ve got quite a way with words, country boy,” she drawled before stepping to the door and knocking. Floorboards creaked from inside as footsteps followed.
The door swung open and a middle-aged man dressed in a pressed button-down and black slacks stepped into view. The tan skin, dark eyes and wide jawline emphasized his Tibetan heritage. With his slicked-back hair and the expensive cologne drowning out the incense, Joe Ganzorig didn’t fit the profile of the other shamans she’d met, ones committed to a more naturalistic, esoteric lifestyle.
“What do you want?” he asked, his tone sharp while he glanced between the two of them. His gaze rested on Navi and he took a step back as if he’d figured who she was.
“Ganzorig?” Navi took command, knowing her status as Tribe opened doors in a way the average shifter never could. She stuck her hand out. “I’m Navi Tremere of the East Coast Tribe. There have been some incidents in the area as of late and I’ve got a couple of questions for you.”
He reached out and shook her hand, even while his eyes narrowed in caution. Whether the man had anything to do with the altered meth, one thing became clear—he didn’t like others encroaching on his space. Too bad for him, because Navi needed answers. Rossi lurked somewhere in this area, but until she found a lead, they’d be wasting time chasing rumors and fires like before.
“Come on in,” he said, stepping away from the entrance so they could enter. Even with the caution in his stance, Navi didn’t sense a shift in the power dominating the air. If he was readying an attack, her panther would be the first on alert.
Based on the painted runes and small animal bones decorating the exterior of the house, Navi expected more of the same on the inside. The shamans she’d visited before fell squarely in the hippie category and their houses reflected the bones, herbs and dust sort of magic they practiced. Not this guy.
His modern interior of black cabinetry, silver hardware, leather furniture and cream carpets was the first breath of urban living she’d gotten since she arrived here. While the Red Rock and Silver Springs packs leaned toward the rustic approach in their abodes, this place cost money. Navi wouldn’t lie—it set off her internal alarms left and right.
“Want a cup of coffee?” Joe asked, heading into a kitchen that was all chrome backsplashes and porcelain tiled floors.
“How about a pot?” Finn asked, sauntering past her as he scanned the room. Even with the casual way he walked, his hands slipped into his pockets and shoulders back, the glow of vigilance hadn’t faded from his eyes. She doubted the tension would leave him until Finn ripped out Dale Rossi’s throat with his own fangs.
Their shaman friend set about to brewing a pot of coffee and, despite her concerns and the wary way she watched him pour out the roast, she could use a pick-me-up. She had gotten up far too early and the effects of her first two cups of java were wearing off.
“So, care to explain why I’ve got a member of the East Coast Tribe showing up on my doorstep this time of morning?” Joe asked, focusing on filling the coffeemaker with water. He pressed the button down and the machine let out a hiss, but he didn’t look at her. No, not the slightest bit shady.
“Because Dale Rossi is distributing drugs in this territory courtesy of the Landsliders,” Finn spoke up, leaving finesse and tact at the back door. Navi restrained her internal groan, rolling with the punches. Joe didn’t look their way, didn’t offer any surprise, and he also wasn’t brimming with curiosity.
“I don’t see how the drug runners of this region are any of my concern,” Joe responded, leaning against his counter while the coffeemaker spat out tar-colored liquid, the robust scent curling through the room. His stance remained guarded, as it had been the moment they showed up. Not like his caution revealed any form of duplicity—anyone would be on edge with a random visit from the Tribe, and shamans doubly so.
Navi reached into her barely functional jeans pocket and tugged out a thumb-sized bag of white powder. “Because a shaman in this area happens to be working with them,” she said, taking a cue from the Finn Kelly handbook and going straight for the kill. “I’d like to know if you’re the one behind this magicked meth.”
Joe still hadn’t looked at her and Navi’s claws pricked out at the ready, even though she kept her hands down.
“You’ll have to bust down some other shaman’s door,” he said, remaining unruffled. “I stick to my own business out here.” He poured three mugs of coffee before offering one to her and another to Finn. She sniffed the dark liquid on instinct, not trusting him in the slightest.
“I’ll pay a visit to one of the shaman elders then,” Navi said. Two could play at unruffled. Heading to the shaman elders would be inconvenient and take longer than she wanted, but he didn’t need to know that. “They can trace whose magic is threaded through this meth and we can resolve this mystery quick and tidy-like.” Navi watched, and waited. Try to maneuver out of that, jackass. Finn snorted at her side, a solid reminder to rope him in on a poker game so she could clean house.
Joe’s grip tightened on his coffee mug until his knuckles were almost the same color as the porcelain. “I didn’t have a choice,” he murmured, meeting her gaze at last. Shame tugged at his frown, and his dark eyes burned with restrained anger. “It’s not like we’ve got packs out here, or anyone else to protect us. My magic might be strong, but I’m not a match for an entire pack of shifters at my doorstep.”
“Work with us and your situation will be taken into consideration,” Navi commanded, her tone coming with the icy cool of her position. “Continue to protect Rossi and we’ll haul you in now.” Beside her, Finn tensed with readiness. Slight modifications to his stance—a pivot to his hip and a hunch forward. When she gave the signal, his wolf would be unleashed on this asshole before he could open his mouth to chant. Navi clenched her jaw, sweeping away the thought he was her anything as her stomach twisted.
Joe heaved a sigh, and his shoulders sank with resignation. “What do you need from me?” he asked, his hands remaining wrapped around his mug. “I’m willing to help if you can ensure you’ll take him out of the picture.”
Finn clapped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, drawing her attention his way. “Have you seen what this woman can do?” he asked. “The Tribe will make quick work of a lowlife like Ace.” Navi didn’t miss the way Joe’s eyes narrowed in recognition at the name. Without a doubt, he had gotten deeply involved in this. Whether he told them the truth or not, if he could help them track Rossi, the other details didn’t matter.
“We need to know where the main distribution is happening around here. We’ve already busted one of the trafficking spots, but if we don’t take out Rossi and excise the Landsliders from the area, the problems will grow.” Navi crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t suppose you performed the magic on location?”
Joe lifted his mug in salute. “Yeah, I worked with the big man himself. If locations are all you’re looking for, they’re yours. I don’t want to keep living with the constant threat on my life if I don’t cooperate. From either of you.” He stalked over to his kitchen table where a silver laptop lay open. “What’s your email?” he asked. Navi couldn’t help but lift a brow in response. This urban, techie shaman was the furthest from the others of his kind she’d met.
Navi strolled over to his table, placing her mug on the lacquer surface. There was something she didn’t like about Joe Ganzorig, but bias against shamans ran deep with her. They were the ones who’d imbued the spirit of the panther into her and marked her with these tattoos, the pain of the process forever engraved in her memory and on her body. She’d never quite been able to forgive them for stealing away her future. Navi typed her email into his computer, and he set to the keyboard, his fingers flying over the keys while he typed an address.
“So what exactly does this laced meth do?” she asked. “I’m not about to mess around with this shit to find out.”
He shot a nervous glance her way. “A couple of different varieties are being produced. Some will amp up the animal side of you until you’re berserker while others keep folks from shifting. I pretty much worked whatever spells they asked on the batches, no questions as to where they were being delivered or who was taking them.”
“Fucking delightful,” Navi muttered, running a hand through her hair. The last thing they needed to deal with on top of Mackey’s compulsion tricks were ’roided out wolves and mountain lions. The Landsliders were a cancer determined to metastasize through this land.
Joe paused, glancing between them as his pointer finger hovered, ready to click Send. “If I do this, he’s going to come for me. Meaning there’s no margin for fucking up. I’m placing my life in your hands.”
Navi bristled on instinct, annoyed at how the shaman acted like they wouldn’t be able to handle this shifter and his crew, as though she hadn’t handled thousands of these cases before. The acerbic words froze on her tongue when she caught the flash of fear in his eyes. The spirit of the panther chose her, not the shaman who performed the rite—they’d only been following through with what they’d agreed to do for the shifter community. Like always, the shamans were used and abused for their powers, more victims than anything. His fear made sense.
Before she could say anything, though, Finn stepped in. “I’ve got a personal grudge with Dale Rossi,” he growled, the sound resonating through the small rancher. “He won’t escape alive.”
Joe’s lips pressed tight together, but he nodded and hit Send. “I’m counting on the two of you, then.”
Navi took an obligatory sip of coffee, which was still scorching, since this whole visit had gone much faster than anticipated. She placed the mug back on the countertop again. “Thanks for your help, Ganzorig. I know living around our kind can be dangerous for you guys.”
Joe snorted, a bitter look crossing his face. “Humans, shifters, it doesn’t matter. Our abilities are sought after to be used by just about everyone.”
Navi nodded in response before she clapped a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Let’s head out.” Her chest squeezed tight. She understood the weight of being born into a power and position without being given a choice.
“Thanks, man,” Finn called as they headed for the door. Navi slipped her phone out of her pocket, the cell vibrating in her hand when she received the email. They exited into the late-morning sunshine, the warmth not quite dispelling the discomfort from visiting Joe, or the unsettling tug inside that the whole encounter had been far too easy. Still, if they stealthed to scout the location, even if the Landsliders had set another trap, she’d know where to pin the blame. And if the entire East Coast Tribe bore down on Ganzorig, even a shaman like him wouldn’t stand a chance.
Sweat pricked Navi’s temple once they stepped into the humidity and she couldn’t help how her heart sped on approach to her Plymouth. She glanced over at Finn. If they were doing any stealthing, it wouldn’t be until after the sun set, but she wasn’t ready to part ways with the Red Rock beta. Last night, she’d regretted the moment she left, frustration burning through her on multiple fronts. However, leaving had been the logical choice, necessary to keep her from leaping off the cliff into an unknown chasm.
“Does the Tribe pay you shit?” Finn asked, running a finger along the hood of her Plymouth. “I’d expect the lot of you to be driving around the country in style.”
Navi snorted. “Yeah, my first foray with a sweet ride ended quick after the car got set on fire by a shifter convict we were chasing down. The next one got smashed to pieces when we were hunting a murderer in Massachusetts. After pouring so much time and work into them, I didn’t have the heart to continue. I pretty much drive junkers at this point so my insurance company doesn’t kill me.” She hopped into the driver’s seat and tapped the weathered wheel.
Finn shook his head as he settled into the passenger side. “I never considered that part of your job. You see action like this all the time?”
Navi started the ignition and pulled out of this lot, beginning the crawl through these narrow, unpaved roads. She had one destination in mind. “Every damn city. Folks don’t call the Tribe in for tea. We’re there to solve problems, protect the shifter citizens and apprehend the criminals in our sector.”
“This summer’s been the most action I’ve seen in a long time,” Finn murmured, staring out of the window. “Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like I’m wasting away.”
Navi’s heart pounded a few notches faster at the sincerity in his voice and how he opened up around her. She wished she could do the same, wished the words didn’t stick in her throat every time she tried to speak about anything that squeezed her heart or flayed her insides. However, she wasn’t made that way. She could bark orders until the end of time and keep level in the middle of an emergency, but truths remained her own, because they were the sole things she could cling onto with the constant change of her surroundings.
“Going to drop me off?” Finn asked, the seat creaking when he leaned back. She could feel his gaze burning into her, hotter than the blazing sun, hotter than the sticky humidity that descended today.
“I’ve got one stop to make first,” she said, gripping the wheel tighter.
She wished for all the world she’d been born with a different purpose—as if the responsibility weighing down her life could melt away for one single moment. Like she could forget she was Tribe and simply be Navi Tremere.