CHAPTER TWELVE

“Jaycee mentioned Dylan,” Tamsin said, sounding casual. “Who is this guy?”

Angus didn’t look at her. He sped up, feeling the need to move faster. “Dylan Morrissey. Full of himself Shifter with way too much power.”

Sean’s statement that Dylan, former Shiftertown leader of Austin and now a liaison between Shiftertowns in South Texas, knew about Tamsin made Angus’s hackles rise. Every misgiving leapt into his brain.

On the other hand, he knew Dylan would track them down more diligently than Haider ever could, and at this moment, Angus wasn’t certain which man was more dangerous.

“You agreed to meet with him,” Tamsin said. “Why, if you don’t like him?”

“Because he’s Dylan. He’ll find me if he wants to.”

“Dad works for him.” Ciaran’s sleepy voice came from the back. “At least sort of works for him. I don’t know what he does for him.”

Angus kept his mouth solidly closed. Dylan had approached Angus a few months ago, right after Dimitri and Jaycee’s mating ceremony, with a proposition. He was quietly gathering Shifters to train for a fight against the Fae, who were gearing up on their side of the gates for a full-scale war. The Fae were coercing Shifters to fight for them, promising them all kinds of shit if they would become the Battle Beasts like in the old days.

Dylan and his sons, and other Shifter leaders like Kendrick, believed the Fae had been instrumental in having the Shifters exposed to humans, Collared, and rounded up into Shiftertowns. The Collars could be triggered by special swords the Fae had made, another method of keeping the Shifters under their power.

Shifters, led by Dylan, were secretly removing the Collars—a slow and laborious process—and replacing them with fake ones. The weaker and less dominant Shifters were being freed first as they would suffer the most if the Fae came.

The Fae had more tricks up their flowing sleeves, however. They were busy recruiting Shifters who were devout Goddess worshippers, filling their heads with the nonsense that the Goddess—who’d created Fae as well as Shifters—wanted the two reunited.

Angus had spent some time in Faerie during his adventure with Jaycee and Dimitri, and he had firsthand knowledge that the Fae were cruel and crazy bastards who would do anything to win.

Angus hadn’t talked about what he did for Dylan to anyone, least of all Ciaran. He did not need those he loved to be tortured for his illegal activities. The less they knew, the better.

“This is interesting.” Tamsin was studying Angus, the lights from the dashboard glowing on her face. “Do you trust him?”

“Dylan used to be the Shiftertown leader in Austin. Stepped down so his son could take over. Retired.”

Tamsin cocked her head. “Retired? Didn’t know Shiftertown leaders could do that. In the wild, when a clan leader got too old, he let his son kill him and the Guardian send him to the Goddess.”

“Times have changed.”

“Obviously. And I thank the Goddess for it. I’m just surprised. Maybe I should meet this Dylan. I like a Shifter who changes the rules.”

“He changes the rules to suit himself and his purposes. Don’t trust him.”

“I didn’t say I’d trust him. I said I wanted to meet him. Big difference.”

Tamsin leaned sideways against the seat to watch him, her body drooping. It had been a long day and night for her—for all of them. She needed rest and so did he. Another reason a summons from Dylan was not welcome.

Angus took an exit to leave the I-10 and headed north. The highway he turned onto snaked toward Bastrop, east of Austin. The farms around them rendered the night black, few buildings in sight, though city lights were a faint glow against the sky in the west and south.

In a town that was close enough to Austin to see its lights, but far away enough from its Shiftertown and South Texas Shifter Bureau for secrecy, Angus pulled into the parking lot of a small, two-story chain motel.

He turned off the engine and the lights, letting the quiet and stillness fill the cab. “I’ll go in and see what he wants. You and Ciaran use the bed, try to get some sleep.”

“No way,” Ciaran said immediately, his words echoed by Tamsin’s, “Nothing doing.”

“We stick together,” Ciaran finished.

“He’s right.” Tamsin unbuckled her seat belt. “Whatever this Dylan wants, we face it. Besides, there’s nothing to say he won’t have some of his guys stationed out here to nab us while you’re talking to him. Dylan sounds like the type to have henchmen, am I right? Trackers loyal to him?”

Tamsin was completely correct. Angus was one of those henchmen now, and Dylan would expect Angus to obey him.

“Anyway,” Tamsin said, not realizing Angus had already agreed. “This looks like a decent place to get some shut-eye. I’d prefer a bed that isn’t on wheels.”

“All right. We all go.” Angus bent a glare on Ciaran. “But both of you, stay quiet. No talking until we find out what Dylan wants. I mean it, Ciaran. He can be tricky, and his motives aren’t always clear.”

Ciaran looked puzzled. “He’s one of the good guys, isn’t he? He doesn’t like Shifter Bureau either.”

“Dylan is his own person.” Angus knew this for a fact. “He’s on the side of Shifters, yes, but that doesn’t mean we can trust him completely.”

Dylan had been known to kill Shifters, and even humans, who endangered other Shifters, especially those who endangered his family.

Sean’s directions led them to a room on the second floor in the back of the motel, the position Angus would have chosen. The motel was in a U shape around a central pool, with all doors facing inward. From the room in the center back, Dylan could watch all comings and goings.

Angus had Ciaran firmly by one hand, with Tamsin holding Ciaran’s other hand. Angus didn’t think Dylan would hurt a cub—he was a doting grandfather to his sons’ cubs—but Angus had no intention of letting Ciaran be anywhere but plastered to his side.

Angus knocked. The door was opened, cautiously, not by Dylan but by his son Sean, a Shifter with deep black hair and very blue eyes. The hilt of the Sword of the Guardian stuck up over his shoulder.

Sean was a little more easygoing than his older brother, Liam, and far more than his father, Dylan. Guardians tended to be more thoughtful than other Shifters, having seen enough of death to not want to court it.

Sean’s presence either meant Dylan was in a negotiating mood, or that he’d need someone to quickly send their dead bodies to dust.

No one spoke until all three visiting Shifters were inside and Sean closed the door.

“Dylan,” Angus said in greeting.

Dylan, who waited in the exact center of the room, had hair as dark as Sean’s and eyes as blue. The only sign of Dylan’s venerable three hundred years of age was a bit of gray hair at his temples.

“Angus,” Dylan returned. He gave Ciaran a cordial nod as well—Dylan did not like to pretend cubs weren’t in the room.

Sean moved to the cabinet under the television and opened it to reveal a small refrigerator. “Want anything? I have water and . . . water. No minibar in this room, such a sad thing.”

“Ciaran will have a water,” Angus rumbled.

Sean came out of the refrigerator with two water bottles dripping with condensation. He handed one to Ciaran, who looked pleased at being waited on by Sean, a Shifter he admired.

Sean held out the second bottle to Tamsin, giving her an inquiring look.

“I’ll take a large latte with whipped cream and a mountain of chocolate sprinkles,” Tamsin said, and shrugged. “Or I could settle for water.” She gave Sean one of her giant smiles as she accepted the bottle from him. She opened it and leaned back to drink half of it down. “Ahh,” she said as she came up, swiping her hand across her mouth. “I needed that.”

Ciaran watched her in fascination, and then mimicked her. “Ahh. I needed that too.”

Sean’s eyes twinkled, but Dylan became suddenly more watchful.

What had he expected—a meek, terrified little Shifter falling at Dylan’s feet and begging him to be gentle with her?

Maybe not, but Dylan obviously had expected Tamsin to be cowed and nervous. Tamsin was nervous, Angus could tell from the way she clutched the bottle, but she wasn’t about to let Dylan and Sean see that.

“What do you want?” Angus asked without preliminary. “We’re tired, and Ciaran needs to sleep.”

“I want to talk.” Dylan gestured to one of the beds. “Ciaran can lie down if he needs to.”

“I’m not tired.” Ciaran’s sagging body contradicted the statement, but he lifted his chin in defiance.

Tamsin walked past Sean and then gave a sudden twisting leap to land on one of the beds, her back to the headboard. “Come and sit with me, Ciaran,” she said, patting the covers. “We’ll let the big bad Shifters talk.”

Ciaran went readily to the bed, setting his bottle on the nightstand, and climbed up to settle in next to Tamsin, his back to the headboard. Tamsin smiled down at him as Ciaran snuggled into her, and slid her arm around him.

Sean took a chair from the desk and straddled it wrong way around, resting his arms on its back. Dylan remained standing, and so did Angus.

“Just a chat, lad.” Dylan’s voice was deceptively quiet. He could sound like the most reasonable man alive, living only to throw back a pint with his sons and friends. Then he’d look you in the eye and tell you what he really wanted. “I heard through the grapevine that you were helping an un-Collared Shifter woman run from the Bureau.”

“That would be me,” Tamsin said, lifting her hand.

Sean sent her an amused look. “We figured. By the grapevine, he means Ben, who mentioned it to me. Ben’s motive wasn’t to get you into any trouble,” he said quickly to Tamsin. “He was worried about you. So this Bureau shit took Ciaran?”

Ciaran answered. “Yep. Locked me in a crypt. I didn’t even know what a crypt was until I was in one. At least it had a TV. But they mostly used the TV for a computer feed. Weird place for a hideout.”

“Clever place,” Dylan said. “Humans don’t mind looking at monuments to the dead, but they don’t like going inside the tombs, especially at night. The agents knew they’d be relatively undisturbed.”

He switched his stare to Tamsin. Tamsin looked boldly back at him, not dropping her gaze like a good submissive. Tamsin had either learned to suppress the instincts that all Shifters had to not make eye contact with one more dominant, or else she was dominant herself. Or maybe fox Shifters had a different view of the hierarchy.

“So you ran with Gavan?” Dylan asked her.

Angus jumped. He didn’t remember talking to anyone but Tamsin and Haider about that.

“Ran a little bit with Gavan, a long time ago,” Tamsin said. “Why?”

Dylan glanced at Angus. “Gavan was, you could say, a bit extreme. I checked you out, Angus, pretty thoroughly before I talked to you, because of what I heard about your brother. He had good intentions but bad tactics.”

“He didn’t have any tactics at all,” Angus said impatiently. “Except to have his own way or kill everyone else trying to get it. He ended up dead in the end, didn’t he?”

Dylan acknowledged this with a nod. Neither of them mentioned the other person who’d ended up dead because of Gavan—Angus’s mate, April. Angus didn’t like to bring that up in front of Ciaran.

“You didn’t know much about Gavan’s activities,” Dylan said. “You told me that right away, and I believed you. But she knows.”

He turned his body so he could take in Tamsin without giving Angus any attack advantage. Dylan had spent his entire life making sure he held the best position in the room.

Tamsin gave him a bright look. “You want to know Gavan’s favorite color and what movies made him cry? I hate to disappoint you all, but I wasn’t as close to Gavan as everyone thinks. I was idealistic and naïve when I joined him, and I left when my idealism faded. I wasn’t his bestie, or his lover, or even his dreamy-eyed admirer.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dylan said, pinning her with his blue gaze. “You, lass, are one of the few left who knew him and what he did. Tell me what you remember.”

Tamsin touched her chin. “Let’s see. His favorite color was puce, and he really liked The Sound of Music. Wept every time the kids stood on the stairs and sang before going up to bed.”

“Oh, hey, I saw that movie,” Ciaran said. “I liked when the nuns sabotaged the cars so the family could get away from the Nazis.”

“Yeah, I liked that too,” Tamsin said. “The song is how I learned to say Auf Wiedersehen. It’s German for until we see each other again. Such a nice, succinct phrase.”

“Is that what that means?” Ciaran tried it a couple of times, and Tamsin helped with his pronunciation.

Dylan, who must have met and dealt with Shifters from every type of personality in his long life, waited patiently until she and Ciaran finished.

“Anything you can tell me will be a help,” he said, his voice calm.

“Goddess, does no one believe me when I say I don’t know anything? Gavan never confided in me.” Tamsin sat up straight and tapped her chest. “I. Don’t. Know. Anything.”

Dylan only gave her a quiet look. “I’m an old Shifter, as my sons like to remind me. That means to me, you’re little more than a cub, and I have several hundred years of experience on you. I also have a finely developed sense of smell, even in my human form. I can scent a lie at a hundred paces. You know more than you admit, Tamsin Calloway.”

She didn’t blink. “I lie about tons of things. Which one are you scenting?”

Ciaran gave a gleeful chuckle. Angus could see him storing up the line to use himself one day.

Angus took a deliberate step and put himself between Dylan and the bed. “Enough. She knew my brother but he didn’t confide in her. She told me all this—you could have asked me instead of bringing her in for an interrogation. Ciaran’s tired, and it’s time to go.”

Dylan didn’t move. “I agree—you should take your son home, or at least somewhere to sleep. The house I share with Sean is open to you, and I’ll keep Shifter Bureau off your back so you can take us up on our offer of hospitality.”

“Or we could stay here,” Angus said. “I can come up with the price of a motel room.”

“If you’ll take advice from a father who raised three sons from hell, best you get your cub indoors in a real house. He’ll be safer in a Shiftertown and have a home-cooked meal. Sean and his mate will see to that.”

Angus noted several things about this speech. First, that Dylan mentioned three sons—Sean, Liam, and Kenny. Kenny had been killed by feral Shifters years ago, and Dylan rarely spoke of him. Dylan was noticeably conferring trust on Angus by this oblique reference.

Second, that Dylan didn’t say his mate would see to the home-cooked meal. His mate, Glory, was a powerful Lupine, a clan leader, and didn’t do anything so tame as cooking. Sean was the chef at the house he and his mate shared with Dylan, Glory, and now Sean’s cub.

The third thing Angus noted was that Dylan made no mention of Tamsin. Dylan clearly wanted Angus to take Ciaran far from this motel, possibly having Sean accompany them, while he and Tamsin remained.

Angus folded his arms. “This seems like a nice place. I haven’t noticed Shifter Bureau running around outside, it’s quiet, and it’s off the beaten path.”

“Dylan means he wants to interrogate me without you breathing down his neck,” Tamsin said, not sounding worried. “So—if we stay here, Angus, are we sharing a room? I don’t mind, but other people might get the wrong idea.”

The thought of curling up next to Tamsin in bed, body to body, her warmth against his skin, licked sudden heat through him. Angus felt himself flush.

Tamsin grinned. “Isn’t he adorable when he blushes? Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom. Talking about my interrogation is making me have to pee.”

Sean rose from the chair and made a gallant gesture to the open door of the dark bathroom. Dylan’s eyes narrowed.

Angus scowled at him. “Let her, Dylan. What is she going to do, flush herself?”

“The bathroom has a window,” Dylan said.

Sean snorted a laugh. “A little tiny one by the ceiling, for ventilation. Even the smallest Feline cub couldn’t get through it, and Tamsin’s not Feline.” He gave a sniff in her direction. “I’ve been Feline all my life and recognize one when I smell one. There aren’t any giant ducts in the ceiling for her to crawl through either—I checked.”

Sean, a good tracker himself, would have located every way into and out of this room before he’d let them in.

Tamsin swung her legs off the bed and landed gracefully on her feet. “I don’t think you should prevent me, gentlemen. It’s been a long drive, and Angus wouldn’t stop at any gas stations.”

So speaking, Tamsin sauntered past Sean and into the bathroom, turning on the light and pointedly closing the door.

“Sean,” Dylan ordered. “Stand there and make sure.”

Tamsin’s voice rose from within the bathroom. “Only if he sings!”

Sean folded his arms, leaned on the doorframe, and began to croon. “She was a bonny red-haired lass, from where we do not know . . .”

Tamsin’s laughter floated to them. Sean was making up the song, but behind the door, Tamsin began to sing a similar one, a true Irish ballad. Sean switched to that, singing along with her.

Ciaran left the bed now that Tamsin wasn’t on it and came to Angus. He stood tightly by Angus’s side, though he didn’t wrap his arms around Angus’s leg as he would have a few years ago.

Tamsin and Sean continued to sing the ballad of a lady who’d lost her love and turned into a ghost. Dylan waited in silence.

The toilet flushed, and the water in the sink began to run, Tamsin continuing the song.

“I’m not leaving her here with you,” Angus told Dylan. “Whether we take you up on your hospitality or not, Tamsin stays with me.”

“What do you know about her?” Dylan asked, his blue eyes expressionless.

“The same as you do. Her name is Tamsin Calloway, and my brother fooled her into joining his freedom-for-Shifters club. She grew wise to his idiocy and left the group before Gavan was stupid enough to get caught.”

“Convenient that she was already gone when that happened.”

“You’re saying you think she betrayed them?” Angus asked in surprise. “Doubt it. Gavan was careless enough to get caught without outside help. It’s out of character for her anyway.”

“Even though you met her last night and know as much about her as I do,” Dylan stated calmly.

“Yes.” Angus hardened his voice. “If you don’t—”

“Dad,” Sean said in alarm. He rattled the handle of the bathroom door.

The sink water was still running, but Tamsin had stopped singing, and all was quiet.

Dylan strode to Sean. “Get the door open.”

Ciaran closed his hand around Angus’s, looking up fearfully at him as Sean slammed his shoulder into the flimsy door and quickly broke it open.

The light was off. Sean snapped it on to reveal the faucet pouring water into the sink.

The window above the shower, about four inches high, was wide open, a few moths drifting in, attracted by the light. Tamsin’s clothes were on the floor, and Tamsin was gone.