Wild Cat

Diego’s hands on her back were strong. “I’m Roman Catholic. We have a lot of rituals that people don’t understand either. Some of them were borrowed from the Celtic pagans, which is where I bet you got yours too.”

“You’re saying we have something in common?”

“I’m saying doing a ritual makes sense to me. You can find a lot of comfort in it. Your life might be hell, but to stop for a quiet minute and light a candle for someone you cared about helps.”

He did understand. Five minutes of simple prayer could calm the soul. “Maybe that’s why Eric asked you to stay.”

Diego shook his head. “I think your brother wants me to know exactly what I’m dealing with and wants to watch how I react to it. Your brother is pretty damn canny.” He glanced at Cas-sidy’s house and released her. “Looks like you’re ready to start.”

The Shifters were gathering around the bonfire. They formed the circles, close friends and family in the inner one, the rest of the Shifters in the outer.

Donovan’s mother was there in the inner circle, with his three brothers. This Shiftertown’s Guardian, Neal Ingram, who had stuck his broadsword into Donovan to render him dust, joined them. The sword stuck up behind his back, a silent symbol of death. Shifters believed that their souls would not be sent to the Summerland unless the Guardian slid his sword through the dead Shifter’s heart—the Fae magic in the blade made the Shifter’s body crumple to nothing. Guardians lived lonely lives, because very few females wanted to mate with a man who was a walking reminder of mortality.

Eric came out of the house, no longer looking tired and hurting. He was alert, rested, ready. Cassidy didn’t miss how every unmated female turned her head his way. The females always watched Eric.

Diego faded back as Cassidy walked toward the bonfire and her family. He was giving her space to do what she needed to do. Cassidy felt a little warm spot in her heart for that understanding.

Eric put his arms around Cassidy, his strength comforting. Jace embraced her from her other side. Eric and Jace had been there for Cassidy every second. Goddess, she loved them.

The Shifters quieted as Cassidy approached the bonfire. Eric handed her the photograph she’d saved for the ceremony, the one of Donovan grinning at the camera in the dark of a bar, one hand around a beer bottle, the other giving a thumbs-up sign. Donovan, I’m so sorry.

Donovan’s mother met her, also clutching a photo. The circles of Shifters closed behind them. The Guardian started chanting a prayer in the ancient Shifter language, a cross between Celtic and Fae.

Cassidy pressed a light kiss to the photo, her lips touching Donovan’s face. Rest in peace, big guy.

Donovan kept smiling as Cassidy dropped the picture to the flame. Donovan’s mother, tears streaming down her face, took her photo, another of Donovan at a party—he’d loved a good party—and fed it into the fire.

Neal Ingram came forward, drawing his sword. He touched the blade to the fire, and the Fae runes on it lit up, seeming to chase up and down the metal. Eric put his hand on the hilt, over Neal’s.

“From this side of the veil,” Eric said, his voice deep and solemn, “we honor Donovan Grady.”

There was a moment of pure silence, the only sound the crackling of the flames. Then someone yelled, “Donovan!”

The cry was echoed in every Shifter’s throat. They screamed, they cheered, they toasted Donovan Grady, beloved friend, brother, son, cousin, and nephew—now partying in the Summerland.

Donovan’s mother closed Cassidy in a crushing hug, then turned away to be comforted by Donovan’s brothers.

Cassidy wiped tears from her eyes and found a cold bottle of beer pressed into her hands. Her friend Lindsay released the beer and dragged Cassidy into a hug. “Goddess be with you, honey.”

Cassidy choked out her thanks. Music blared out, and lights strung through the trees twinkled in the darkness, the memorial segueing into the party. The dead were always celebrated with joy. The music was country, because that’s what Donovan had loved.

Lindsay put her arm around Cassidy. “Drink up. Get plastered drunk, dance your feet off, and then find someone to shag. You’ll feel much better.”

Cassidy couldn’t help the laugh. “Sure, Lindsay.”

The music kept blaring. The Shifters started dancing, waving beer, shouting.

Lindsay favored clingy dresses of sunny colors, tonight’s white with big orange and yellow flowers. She was a Feline, her family’s wildcats more lynxlike, small and wily.

Lindsay kept her arm wrapped around Cassidy’s neck as she drank. “I saw those human hotties bring you home. Who are they?”

Cassidy felt a growl build in her throat. “They’re cops. Diego Escobar is the one who arrested and interrogated me.”

Lindsay looked over at Diego, and she swayed her hips. “Rowr. I wouldn’t mind him putting me in handcuffs.” Her eyes widened as Xavier joined Diego, handing his brother a bottle of beer. “Sun and moon, they aren’t twins, are they? That would be too perfect.”

“No, Xavier is the younger.”

They watched Xavier clap Diego on the shoulder and the two men walk toward Eric, who’d set up his grill. Their moves echoed each other’s, though Cassidy again noticed the restlessness in Xavier and the control in Diego.

“Diego and Xavier Escobar,” Lindsay said. “Goddess, Latino men are hot.”

Cassidy hadn’t met all Latino men, but she agreed about Diego’s heat level. The man was walking sensuality. She folded her arms tighter, stifling her growls.