“Get back in the car and stay out of sight,” Bob said, able to see the approaching vehicle more clearly by the second. Luckily, Serena was still hidden on the other side of the SUV.

She didn’t argue, just hopped into the vehicle and into the comparative safety of the dark-windowed back of the vehicle. Bob shrugged out of his flannel shirt, leaving himself clad only in a sleeveless T-shirt in case he needed to shift. His lower half could shift out of the jeans and boots with relative ease, but the fewer layers he had on top, the better if he needed to become his cougar in a hurry.

He stowed the shirt on the driver’s seat of the SUV while he opened a compartment in the dash and took out some equipment. Photography was a hobby of his and he always kept one of his top-of-the-line cameras with him, in case he came across something worth shooting. In this particular situation, it might come in handy to have an excuse for being near the old ghost town.

He could see the approaching vehicle clearly now and there was definitely some sort of official emblem on the doors. Police or park ranger or something else official. Maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be a shifter problem, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Cover up back there and if anyone searches the vehicle, pretend to have been taking a nap, okay? It looks like we’re getting a visit from somebody in an official vehicle. Could be just a human cop of some kind wondering what we’re doing here. Or not. Won’t know for sure until I can size them up in person, which won’t be long now.”

Bob knew Serena could hear him through the wall of the vehicle, but she didn’t make any sounds, to her credit. She knew how to hide, apparently, which was a good thing in this situation. Bob sent a prayer up to the Mother Goddess, hoping the vehicle contained just a nosy human official of some kind.

The vehicle drew up a few yards away and parked. The emblem on the door read US Border Patrol. So the lone man inside worked for the federal government. Interesting.

The man got out of the light-colored truck and took a long-barreled rifle with him, holding it casually over one arm. He wore mirrored sunglasses and black cargo pants, boots and a dark camouflage shirt. For a human, Bob supposed he looked dangerous. He was obviously comfortable with the rifle and Bob would bet he knew how to use it well.

“Got a report of a strange vehicle in the area,” the man began, walking a little closer, but halting far enough away to have time to bring up his rifle if he sensed a threat. The man was cautious and Bob was on his guard.

Bob had been bent over his camera bag, but rose to face the man, the chain that he usually wore tucked inside his shirt falling out as he moved.

“I hope I’m not doing anything wrong,” Bob said, putting on his best innocent act. “I heard about this ghost town and wanted to get some photos. Is that all right? Do I need a permit or something?”

The Border Patrol agent took off his sunglasses and squinted at Bob’s chest. It took Bob a moment to realize the man was looking at the chain that had slipped out from inside his shirt. The chain was silver-toned metal and held a stylized cross. Bob wore it as a memento of a friend who had touched his life in profound ways. He had worn it off and on for years now and thought of it as a sort of good luck charm.

“Photos?” The agent looked at the well-used and expensive camera equipment in the bag, then back at Bob. “You a Christian?” His chin jerked toward the cross on Bob’s chest.

Bob’s hand went to the chain. “I got it in Italy when I visited the Vatican,” he answered indirectly.

The agent nodded knowingly. “Catholic then. Made of silver?”

Bob thought the question somewhat telling since most magical races had serious problems with the poisonous metal. The cross was silver, but it was also blessed by a rare and sacred magic that allowed Bob to wear it and other shifters could touch it without fear. As far as Bob knew, it was one of a kind.

“Yeah. It’s got a Latin inscription on the back, see?” Bob grasped the cross and turned it over in his hand.

Something strange happened then. Bob stilled as his vision seemed to change. He could see a dark, almost malevolent glow about the other man’s left hand. Bob studied it covertly as the agent’s attention was focused on the cross, and a cold chill ran down Bob’s spine. He saw the mark of the Venifucus tattooed on the back of the guy’s hand.

Slade and his priestess mate had claimed to be able to see invisible tattoos on some of the Venifucus fighters the Clan had killed or apprehended in battles they had fought recently. A hand-drawn image of the various tattoos had been circulated among the Clan and Bob wouldn’t quickly forget what the evil patterns had looked like. An inverted V in a circle with magical glyphs all around shone on the back of the agent’s hand. It glowed a dull, pulsating red on the man’s skin, its poisonous taint flowing sluggishly through his entire body.

“What’s it say? Do you know?” the agent asked, referring to the cross still held in Bob’s hand.

“In remembrance of He who made the blind to see,” Bob quoted the Latin inscription’s translation, truly understanding it for the first time.

He’d never really comprehended the full meaning before, but now he thought maybe he finally was in a position to appreciate it. The cross—the symbol of the Christian God, who had performed miracles such as curing blindness—was also a powerful magical talisman. Maybe this talisman’s real magic was in allowing someone like Bob, who had no magical sight of his own, to be able to see magic—or at least the hidden tattoos the servants of the Venifucus often wore.

“Nice,” the agent answered noncommittally.

Bob let go of the cross and the vision of the evil tattoo dissipated. Yeah, this cross was more than just a gift from a treasured friend. No doubt about it now. Bob was on his guard, and grateful yet again to the human priest who had befriended him and given him such a useful gift.

“We’ve had reports of wild animals around here. Wolves. Could be rabid. Stay away if you see any. Don’t stop for photos.” The agent’s eyes scanned the ghost town, then returned to Bob.

“Wolves?” Bob tried to sound timid, but it was a stretch for an Alpha cougar. Still, he tried to act the part of a scared, city-bred human. “Is it safe to stay here for a bit so I can get some photos?”

“You should be okay for a little while, but you need to get off the mountain before dark, just to be safe.” The man lowered his rifle so that the barrel pointed to the ground. With any luck, he had bought Bob’s act.

“Thanks for coming out to check on me. I appreciate the work of federal agents such as yourself. Am I close to the actual border here?” Bob looked around, gesturing to the wild mountain slope to the north, playing his part to the hilt.

“Close enough,” the man almost grunted. It appeared he didn’t like being questioned, so Bob backed off a bit.

Clearly, the agent was overstepping the scope of his authority by hassling Bob, but he wasn’t going to push it. They weren’t anywhere near the border, which was on the other side of the big mountain in the distance. And since when was the Border Patrol in the habit of warning people about rabid wolves?

Yeah, this guy had an altogether different agenda. He was looking for shifters, if Bob guessed right. Only the human man’s seeming inability to detect magic and Bob’s silver cross had thrown him off the scent.

Still, he could be playing a deeper game, but Bob thought not. If this guy suspected Bob was a shifter, he would probably have used that rifle by now. Any human warrior who knew about shifters, knew enough to never lower their guard around one. This guy had lowered his gun, his guard and everything else when he decided Bob was safe.

The fool.

And not only was he a fool, but he was in league with evil. Bob scratched his chest, touching the cool silver of the cross and his vision changed again, confirming what he had seen before. The Border Patrol agent wore the mark of the Venifucus. Bob would let him live for now, but there would be a reckoning. Eventually.

“Thanks again, Agent…” Bob trailed off, hoping the miscreant would supply a name.

It wasn’t strictly necessary to have his name, but it might help track him down later. It would also be helpful to report back to Steve. Bob knew his brother could work his computer magic and come up with all sorts of information on the erstwhile federal agent. Some of it might prove useful in the future.

“Parker,” the man replied automatically.

He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and stepped closer to Bob to hand it over. Sure enough, it had the official seal of his office on it, as well as an office address and phone number.

“You see them wolves, or anything else strange out here, you give me a call.” He stepped back while Bob pocketed the card, then turned back. “What was your name again?”

“Sorry.” Bob smiled and reached into his photography bag to take out a card of his own. “Robert Painter,” he replied, handing over a stylish business card that sported one of his photographs of the Grand Canyon. “I mostly do landscape photography. I’ve had a few gallery shows in Portland and Seattle. After seeing this place, I’m hoping to do a series on ghost towns. I think it’ll be unique.”

Bob had used the photographer ploy a few times before and kept the bag stocked with documents that would prove he was somebody else. In fact, Bob truly had done exhibitions of his photos under the assumed name and kept anything to do with his hobby under that name on purpose.

Too many people would court him because he was one of the rich and famous Redstone brothers. He had wanted his art to speak for itself, so the false identity had started as a way to do that. Eventually it had turned into a convenient alias to use in tricky situations. Nobody seemed to realize that in some parts of the country, cougars were known as painters. It was a little play on words that amused him.

The agent pocketed the card after reading it and started back toward his truck. “Just don’t stay too long. And don’t go into the structures. I can’t vouch for how safe any of the construction might still be after all these years.”

Bob almost laughed at that. If anybody could judge the soundness of a structure, it would be a Redstone. Construction was their business, after all.

“I’ll be finished in about a half hour. Maybe less. I just want to get a few shots of the exteriors of these buildings against the sky while the light is right. As soon as the sun shifts, the image I want will be lost.” Bob was tempted to add some more flowery, artistic description, but the agent was already getting in his truck.

Agent Parker waved as he pulled away and Bob touched the cross one more time to get a third confirming look at the tattoo on the man’s left hand. Yep. There it was. No doubt about it. Agent Parker was in league with the devil.

 

Bob fussed with his photographic equipment for a little while longer until he was sure the Border Patrol agent was well out of range. He let his senses out to their full extent, sniffing the wind and listening carefully. He scented wolves had been here, but not within the past few hours.

He walked back toward the SUV and opened the door, reaching for a skinny, folded tripod he kept alongside the seats on the floor. He used the motion to look into the back, meeting Serena’s gaze.

“He’s gone, but I don’t think you should get out of the SUV. Sorry. He could easily have a scope aimed at us right now. I’d prefer it if he didn’t get a chance to spot you.”

“What was all that about?” Serena asked, her brows knit in concern.

“Agent Parker warned me about wolves, and asked if my necklace was silver. He knew about shifters. He figured I wasn’t one since I could touch silver and am wearing a cross. He took me for human.”

“I noticed the chain before, but I figured it was some other kind of metal,” she said quietly, looking at the piece of silver that lay outside his T-shirt. “Is it really silver?”

“The chain is steel, but the cross is pure silver. It was a gift from a priest who helped me a lot when I was younger. I wear it out of respect for him and as a sort of good luck charm, though I really only wear it when I’m traveling. When he gave it to me, Father Vincenzo said to wear it when I was away from home and that it would always help bring me back safely. I’ve never had reason to doubt his advice, so when I packed to go up to the Lords’ mountain, on it went.” Bob touched the cross and rubbed the inscription as he often did.

“How can you wear it? I mean, if it’s silver…” she trailed off, clearly puzzled.

“I’m not really sure, but I always assumed this thing had to have a hell of a lot of magic coursing through it to allow me to wear it. I guess I thought maybe it had to do with the man who gave it to me or maybe the fact that he said it was an ancient relic.”

“Why would he give something like that to you?”

“Why indeed?” That was the crux of the matter that had Bob thinking overtime. “I think I just found out why and you’re not going to believe it until you get a chance to see it in action for yourself.” He paused, trying to find words to explain what he had just experienced. “I’m not a very magical guy. I have the basic shifter magic that allows me to shapeshift and that’s it. Since meeting Slade and Kate, our priestess, and my brother’s mates, I realize I’m kind of low on the magic scale, even for a shifter. But when I touched this cross and looked at Agent Parker, I saw…” He didn’t know exactly how to put it into words.

“What? What did you see?” Serena prompted.

Bob looked straight at her. “I saw a Venifucus mark on his hand. Clear as day. When I took my hand off the cross, it was gone. I did it three times, just to be sure. Touching this cross somehow allows me to see the evil magic marks like the priestess and Slade can.”

“Marks?” Serena looked confused and he realized she probably hadn’t been briefed on such things.

Bob explained briefly about the drawings that had been circulated around his Clan. “It’s a rare talent to be able to see hidden magic, but a few of our people have it. The marks aren’t visible to normal eyesight. I’ve never seen one before except in those drawings, but I definitely saw one today.”

“So what do we do now?” Serena looked upset, but there wasn’t much he could do about it right now. Not with the possibility that they were being watched from a distance.

“I’m going to putter around and take some photos. I’ll also be doing recon while I’m at it. I want you to stay in here and lay low. He could be watching. Open the little panels in the back and keep an eye out. I won’t be far. If you see anything, tap twice on the side of the SUV. I’ll come running. I should only be about fifteen or twenty minutes, then we can move on.”

He wished he had better words of reassurance for her. She looked scared, but determined at the same time. Ata girl. She was made of strong stuff, this mate of his. She would hold tight for a few more minutes before he could get them someplace where he could take her in his arms and calm her fears the way he wanted to—with soft words and loving caresses.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Parker thinks I’m human. Catholic too, if you can believe it.” He chuckled and she seemed to find the humor in the situation.

Most shifters worshiped the Mother of All. While Bob respected his priest friend’s beliefs, he knew most Catholics would view shifters as pagans of the first order. But shifters were more accepting of other beliefs, most acknowledging that there was no one true way. They followed the Goddess, preferring to see the hand of the divine in the sacred feminine, but Bob had respected Farther Vincenzo’s devotion to the male God he had dedicated his life to.

Who was Bob to put limitations on the divine? Such things were way above his pay grade and he had learned there were many paths that led to the same place. As long as a person believed in the Light—in doing good and shunning evil—then he was okay in Bob’s book. And some, like Father Vincenzo, were even more okay than others.

The older man had had a shining spirit and a kind face. He’d been willing to guide a confused young shifter—even though they had never really discussed Bob’s true nature—and help him figure out things about life that had helped shape him into the man he had become. Only now, years later, did Bob fully understand the value of the good Father’s guidance—and the extraordinary nature of the gift he’d given Bob when he had left Rome.

“When you get back, I want to hear all about the man who gave you that cross.”

Bob thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. If he was going to share the story with anyone, it would be Serena. The cougar inside him was possessive of her and the man wanted to earn her love. Both parts of him wanted her…forever.

He knew that meant sharing things he wouldn’t readily tell others. If he wanted her to trust him, he would have to do the same for her.

“All right. When I get back.” He wanted so badly to kiss her, to hold her and reassure her, but it just wasn’t possible at the moment, while the might be under observation. He sought and held her gaze, laying a little part of his heart on the line. “You’re so incredibly special to me, Serena. I hope you know that.”

She nodded slowly, a dazzled smile breaking just slightly over her gorgeous mouth. As if she was unsure. As if she was hopeful. He could pretty well guess what she was feeling because he had to admit, he felt just about the same way, if he was being honest.

“I’ll be back shortly. Sit tight and keep watch.”

He knew he had to leave now or he would blow their cover and climb into the back of the SUV with her. If that Parker guy, or any of his ilk were watching, that would cause problems, but Bob was just about at the point that he didn’t give a damn.

Forcing himself to leave her, he stepped back and closed the door. Each step he took away from her was like a chore. Resolutely, he set up his lightweight tripod and attached the camera. Moving quickly now, he took a few shots of the ghost town, moving steadily through, using his viewfinder and his nose to tell him the story of the place.

Wolves had been there recently, but not within the past day or so. He could smell their presence all over the site, but these weren’t just any wolves. No, these were werewolves.

Something had brought the Pack Serena had mentioned up from the southern part of the Cascades. Bob didn’t know what could’ve caused such a migration, and he didn’t dare hazard a guess. It could be any one of a number of things—all of them bad.

Either the werewolves were servants of the Lady and Her Light, or they were in league with the Venifucus. If the former, they were probably on the run. If the latter, they were doing the chasing.

Bob didn’t want to chance running into them until he knew for sure one way or the other. He took photos and did a full circuit of the town in as little time as possible. He also took several shots of the surrounding area. He could study them on his screen later and look for visual clues. He could also forward anything interesting he might find to his brothers. If there’s one thing his older brothers had taught him, it was that good recon was never wasted.

As a result, Redstone Construction kept files on many and varied locations all over the globe. Bob’s interest in photography had started because he had been told to record observations of his travels when he had gone off on his own several years back. Being young and foolish, he had bought a camera and figured the lens could do his work for him. What he hadn’t counted on was finding a love of the gadgetry and skill it took to make a good photograph.

What had started out as a small rebellion against his older brothers nagging turned into an enjoyable and somewhat successful hobby that he had never outgrown. His photos nowadays went both into the family archives and the Clan’s files. Dual purpose and doubly useful both artistically and informationally.

He finished up and packed his gear, heading for the SUV. Serena hadn’t made any sounds and Bob didn’t see anything out of order, so he packed up casually, then climbed into the vehicle, aware he could still be under observation.

“Stay in back until we’re under some cover. We’re more exposed out here than I’d like and a good scope might possibly see through the light tint on the windshield. You’re better hidden back there for now.”

“Okay,” came Serena’s quick answer.

Bob didn’t speak again until he was back on the road. There wasn’t a lot of traffic on the road, but there was some, which was both comforting and a little worrying. The other cars could contain just innocent humans going about their business, or they could contain those in league with the bad guys. Drug runners. Hostile shifters. Venifucus agents.

“I smelled werewolves in the ghost town. They were probably there within the past day or two. What can you tell me about the wolf Pack that lives farther down the range?” Bob asked once they were on the road, heading in the general direction of their next target.

“Not much. Our Clan hated them. There were occasional border skirmishes and we always managed to push them back into their own territory. There was one incident though…” her voice trailed off as she seemed to think back. Bob could see her in the rearview mirror and she met his gaze in reflection when she spoke. “It was a bad business. One of their young women was caught in our territory she was hurt bad before she escaped.”

“Was she attacked? Raped?” Bob asked in a firm, quiet voice.

Serena nodded, her eyes sad. “I think so.”

“Do you know who did it?”