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  The twitch of his lower lip was like a shout, before the human grinned. “Sorry, ma’am. Nothing so interesting. I’m just a minimum-wage guy. I can run a cash register, stock shelves, do bartending, and wait tables. Basic shit.” All places where people congregated.

  “Speaking of cash registers”—the weasel turned to Owen—“any chance the old guy here is hiring?”

  “Sorry, it’s a one man operation.” Owen shook his head. “I don’t know anyone who’s looking for workers right now.”

  Vicki tapped a finger on her lips. “Let me think. Maybe over at the B&B? No, I think they’re good. Or the grocery. No, he prefers to hire high school kids. The tavern only has barmaids, which does seem rather sexist, don’t you think?”

  Gawain stared. Had she just accused the Cosantir of being sexist?

  “I’m not gonna point any fingers,” Owen said with a grin. “I think the tavern owner keeps a shotgun behind the bar.”

  Vicki’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sure that’s just a rumor.”

  Gawain watched in awe. When Vicki’d mentioned her past as a spy, he hadn’t taken her seriously. He should have.

  As she babbled away, acting as if she had fewer brains than a tree sprite, the Scythe agent relaxed and leaned against the counter, obviously hoping for tidbits.

  “The gas station…well, they use their own kids…and, although teens always insist they’re overworked, I don’t think some practical experience hurts a child. Have you noticed how whiny the next generation is about doing a bit of work?”

  “No shit.” The human nodded, totally pulled into the conversation.

  “My kid isn’t going to be lazy,” Vicki said with a decided pat on her big belly.

  “Good to hear.” The weasel smiled. “Are you going to have a boy or a girl?”

  “Oh, my husband doesn’t want to know. He wants to be surprised.” Vicki pouted. “I think he’s awfully unfair. How am I supposed to know whether to decorate the nursery in blue or pink? Or what color of baby clothes to get?” The color of the baby’s room was obviously the most important concern in her life.

  “Maybe you should go for green or beige,” Gawain suggested.

  She gave him a shocked stare. “What’s the fun in that?”

  “Wait till you get married, bro. You’ll learn how important women consider these things,” Owen told him knowledgeably—as if he’d ever spoken to a female outside of a Gathering.

  Gawain managed not to laugh.

  “Well, I’m blathering on. I just popped in to grab some decaf coffee, although I have to say, if there’s no caffeine in the coffee, it’s not nearly as satisfying. But my doctor is all full of telling me how caffeine is bad for the baby and how a sip of wine will make her—or him—be born with no brains or something.”

  No, she wasn’t merely good; she was brilliant.

  As the human edged away from her, she leaned forward and patted his arm. “I’m afraid I can’t think of anyone looking to hire. But best of luck in finding a job.”

  Having somehow acquired a disarming waddle, she walked toward the rear of the store.

  The Scythe agent picked up his book. “Doesn’t look like I’m going to find a job here. I guess I’ll try the next town down the road.”

  “Those are the breaks,” Gawain said. “Good jobs are tough to come by.”

  Owen merely nodded.

  As the door closed behind the human, Vicki wandered back with a cup in hand and nary a waddle. Sneaky female.

  “Nice act,” Owen said.

  Gawain watched the human cross the street, climb into his van, and drive away. “That’s it? We’re just going to let him go?”

  “Actually, no,” Vicki said. “My job was to stall him long enough for Wells to place a tracker under his bumper. He’ll have people monitoring where the bastard goes.”

  “Perfect.” Owen gave her an approving nod.

  The bell rang as Thorson shoved the door open. The old werecat stopped and sniffed. “Damned stinking human. I’ll be smelling him all day.”

  “Poor Joe.” Vicki patted his arm. “Wells is in town and said he’ll be by later. He wanted to be sure you still had his favorite French roast.”

  “Another damn human? I’ll have to fumigate the place.”

  “You’re just stewing that the spymaster beat your furry ass at chess last month.” Owen grinned at Gawain. “The two play every time Wells is in town.”

  “At least he can play. You cubs lack the patience for a decent game,” Thorson said.

  Chess? Mother and Hunter, but it’d been a while. Gawain smiled. “I have an adequate amount of patience.”

  Thorson gave him a skeptical stare. “You any good?”

  Gawain ignored Owen’s snort and said mildly, “Fair.”

  The old werecat grunted. “You’re on. Anytime during store hours.” Thorson rested his scarred-up hand on Vicki’s shoulder. “You planning to ever have those cubs?”

  “Cub, Thorson. I’m shooting for one. Just one. A single baby. Fuck this litter bullshit.”

  Gawain smothered a smile. The Daonain didn’t often have singletons.

  Thorson gave her a cynical half-smile.

  “Don’t even say it.” She rolled her eyes. “And, for your question, according to Donal, babies come when the Mother decides and not before.”

  “Ah, well.” Thorson snorted. “Difficult to argue with that kind of a statement.”

  “Yeah, the healer’s fucking sneaky that way.”

  Gawain grinned. Calum’s mate had the vocabulary of a drunken dwarf.

  “C’mon, you two.” She motioned toward the door. “Calum and Wells will want a report.”

  As Gawain turned to follow her and his brother, Thorson cleared his throat. “Come by for a game tomorrow, mage. We’ll see if you have more brains than a pixie.”

  “You’re on.”

  *

  The street felt cleaner without the Scythe van on it, Owen thought, as they crossed the street toward the sheriff’s office. He walked on Vicki’s left, pleased Gawain automatically took her right. The van might have left, but neither of them was about to be careless with her safety.

  “Joe’s delighted to find a new chess player.” Vicki raised her eyebrows at Owen. “Is your brother going to get slaughtered?”

  With a straight face, Owen said lightly, “Who knows?” Owen had lost a game or two to the old werecat…barely. With Gawain, Thorson would be slaughtered. As cubs, no one gave Gawain enough of a challenge, and he’d taken to playing chess online with other fanatics. “How long since you had a game, brawd?”

  “A few months. I’ve missed it.” At a patch of cracked concrete, Gawain put his hand under Vicki’s arm to help her.

  She scowled. “I’m pregnant, not fucking incapacitated.”

  Owen grinned.

  Her spine was straight, head was up, and she walked a step in front of them as if determined not to slow them down. Yeah, he liked the feisty little female. Honest, blunt, brave. Her mates—and Calum’s teenaged daughter—adored her because, despite trying to hide it, she had a tender heart.

  He didn’t. So why did he wonder how many good people he’d ignored because they were female. He growled under his breath. Fucking self-evaluation was a pain in the tail.

  Vicki led the way into the police station, past the reception desk, and motioned to a door on the right. “Alec’s out on Main Street, but Wells is in there with Darcy.

  Owen stepped into the conference room.

  Wells was seated at a long rectangular table across from Darcy. From her pale color, Owen figured the spymaster had quizzed her about the Scythe’s prìosan.

  Calum was pacing up and down the room. When Vicki came in, he growled and pulled her into his arms…very gently. “You…”

  “Relax, boss cat.” She kissed his chin. “Stalling a dimwitted foot-soldier for a few minutes is hardly dangerous.”

  Belatedly, Owen realized why the Cosantir was so furious. “You didn’t ask her to come to
the bookstore?”

  “I did not.”

  Vicki turned to look at Owen. “Wells and I were in here when you called, so we made a plan while Alec notified Calum.”

  “Ah, right.” Owen retreated a step from Calum.

  After detouring around the seething Cosantir, Gawain sat beside Darcy…and quietly appropriated her hand.

  Good job, brawd. Owen positioned himself behind her and Gawain. Felt right, guarding these two that he… Guarding these two.

  When Darcy turned to look at him, he tugged a lock of her black hair and stepped back. Folding his arms over his chest, he nodded at Wells. “Go ahead.”

  Wells looked from him to Darcy, obviously caught the warning, and his head tilted an infinitesimal degree. The lean spymaster had icy blue eyes, gray hair the color of his tailored suit, and was the most calculating person Owen had ever met. A notepad sat in front of him. “Miss MacCormac was telling me about the Scythe plans.” He pointed his pen at Darcy, his eyes narrowed. “Why would competent operatives discuss secrets where you could hear?”

  “They didn’t. I mean they didn’t know I was there.”

  Owen moved to the side a step so he could see her face. Her color had returned to normal and she’d relaxed…maybe because she trusted him and Gawain to care for her. It was a satisfying thought.

  “Explain,” Wells snapped.

  When she flinched, Owen growled—as did Gawain.

  The spymaster sat back carefully. “Forgive my impatience, Miss MacCormac. Discovering a covert organization is manipulating US politics, well, I fear it eroded my manners.”

  “I understand,” Darcy said softly. “To answer your question, the prìosan staff didn’t converse in front of the hostages. However, whenever an outside visitor spent the night, I’d listen outside the window of the guest suite. Director enjoyed having drinks with them in the evenings, and it wasn’t long before they were boasting about what they’d done.”

  “No patrols?”

  “Yes, guards walk the grounds. But the floodlights only reach to the top of the first floor. The rooms for the staff and Scythe visitors are on the second floor.” She smiled slightly. “Ivy-covered brick walls aren’t difficult to climb.”

  “I see. Nicely done.” Wells gave her a respectful nod.

  Owen couldn’t help but visualize how fucking easy it would have been for the little cat to have been spotlighted like a fly on the wall—and filled with bullets. His jaw clamped down so violently his teeth might start cracking.

  “Armed guards, a stone wall around the property, an automated steel gate with a guardhouse, concealed machine gun nests, floodlights.” Wells tapped his pen on the notepad.

  Vicki scowled “Very third world, isn’t it?”

  “Once the place is located, managing a rescue without casualties will be tricky.” Wells glanced at Calum. “I understand your concerns are only for the captive shifters. My job will include freeing the human hostages.”

  Calum nodded. “I assumed you would feel that way. But first we have to find them.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‡

  Darcy walked down the stairs from her bedroom in the lodge. What should she do today?

  Not shopping, obviously. After the Scythe showed up in Cold Creek last week, the Cosantir had ordered her to stay away from downtown.

  Bree and her mates now locked the lodge’s front door—in case some Scythe operative showed up—which meant giving keys to their lodgers.

  By the Mother, Darcy had caused everyone so much trouble.

  Rather than a valuable addition to the town, she was a perilous guest. The knot in her stomach grew. What if the Scythe realized this was a shifter town? What if someone got hurt?

  She’d leave, dammit, but she was stuck, caged by Daonain Law and by the need to know when the Cold Creek searchers located her villagers.

  Maybe she’d spend the day in the forest. Owen and Gawain had given her permission, as long as she stayed away from the town. She wrinkled her nose. Running the trails alone wasn’t nearly as much fun, but her mentors were working on their house, hunting for the villagers, and running their smithing and carving businesses.

  Just as well. She wanted to decrease the time she spent with them. Although it hurt to see less of them. Actually hurt as if she’d stubbed her heart on an unseen stone or something.

  Stay strong, tinker.

  She lifted her chin. Maybe she could talk Bree into going for a run.

  As she crossed the main room, a high-pitched shriek came from outside in the back.

  Heart hammering, Darcy ran out the back doors. The patio was empty.

  At the sound of chittering, she checked the sprite in the spruce tree. The pixie was watching the creek below her.

  Darcy followed its gaze and grinned.

  Where the patio ended, a long expanse of tended grass rolled downhill. Five cublings around four or five years old were making stick castles beside the burbling creek. Just look at them. All fat legs and round stomachs.

  Under the water, the silvery undines swirled with delight, brushing up against any fingers that ventured in their stream—and reducing the cubs to infectious giggles. One water elemental sent a thin stream of cold water toward a cubling.

  The boy let out a scream and fell backward, laughing so hard he couldn’t sit up.

  Well, there was the source of the shriek.

  Bonnie, Emma, and a younger female lounged nearby.

  “Darcy, perfect.” Bree walked out of the kitchen, carrying a tray filled with sandwiches and cookies. “I was about to call you downstairs and see if you wanted to join us. Emma and her cub just arrived.”

  “Is this a special occasion?”

  Bree handed her the tray and disappeared back in the kitchen. Her voice drifted out. “We’re just taking advantage of such a warm, sunny day. Bonnie, Emma and their cubs adore Zeb’s little playground and the creek. You met them already, right?”

  “At the Wild Hunt, yes.” Curvy, tall, golden Emma was the bard; shorter, brown-haired Bonnie was Owen and Gawain’s littermate.

  “There are also a couple of wolf pack cubs with today’s caregiver. I try to keep an eye on the pack cubs when I can.” She reappeared with another tray of milk, iced tea, and glasses. “It’s kind of part of the alpha female duties.”

  Right, Bree was a wolf. But alpha female? “If you’re alpha female, does that mean Shay or Zeb is the alpha male?”

  “Yes, Shay is alpha, Zeb beta.” Bree led the way onto the grass and set the food on a flattened, polished log that had obviously been created to serve as a knee-high serving table. “The pack had a rough time before Shay arrived, but he’s got it functioning fairly well now.”

  “I bet he does.” Shay was not only a natural leader, but also the kind of person who took care of everyone around them. Setting her tray down, Darcy looked around.

  The three other females sat on blankets strategically positioned out of splashing range. Emma wore her golden hair in a long braid. In jeans and a tank top, a slender redhead in her early twenties was talking to her. Bonnie apparently had monitor duty—her gaze stayed on the children.

  “Look, it’s Darcy!” Smiling, Emma pushed to her feet and tossed her braid over her shoulder.

  Bonnie looked up and waved.

  At the table, Emma pulled Darcy into a big hug. Yes, the female was totally a bear. “I hoped you’d come.”

  The sincerity in her voice made Darcy blink quickly.

  “Hey, Bree!” A cub with wavy golden-brown hair, dashed up from the bank. “Bree!”

  After some happy hugs, Bree said, “Darcy, this is Minette who belongs to Emma, Ben, and Ryder.”

  The cubling had beautiful hazel eyes, fair skin, round cheeks.

  “Hi, Minette. It’s nice to meet you.” Darcy glanced at Emma. “I don’t think I know Ben or Ryder.”

  As Emma poured iced tea for the females and handed the glasses out, she said, “I don’t think you were introduced, but Ben said he met yo
u here one day. On the patio.”

  “He’s a cahir—a grizzly—and simply huge,” Bree added.

  On the patio, huge cahir. Darcy gave an embarrassed huff. “I remember. He was there when I got in trouble for being in cougar form too close to the lodge.”

  Emma gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been on the receiving end of a cahir scolding; I know the pain. But Ben feels awful that he upset you.”

  Darcy snorted. “I upset myself. I hate doing stupid things.”

  Coming up to accept a glass, the redheaded female laughed. “Oh, I know!” She took a cookie from Bree and continued, “I’m Nia. Bonnie and I are the wolf cub-watchers today.”

  “They look like they’ll keep you busy.”

  Nia rolled her eyes. “I’m rethinking ever having cubs.”

  “You’ll change your mind when you find the right mates,” Bree told her.

  “The right mates? Not happening.” Nia dropped down onto the blanket. “Bonnie, it’s my turn to watch. Get yourself a cookie.”

  Once on her feet, Bonnie called, “Luke, Tyler, come and meet Darcy.

  Two young boys about four ran over.

  Bonnie beamed and turned to Darcy. “These are my two cubs, Tyler and Luke.”

  Aww. All bright eyes and bounce. “They’re adorable.”

  “I think so.” Grinning, Bonnie put an arm around each tiny body. “Cubs, this is Darcy who fixed your computer, so say thank you.”

  “T’ank you!” said one. The other gave her a hug.

  So, so cute. She crouched down to their size and whispered, “Did you see what’s watching you from the big tree?”

  They turned and after a second, spotted the pixie swinging on the end of a branch, as if she was trying to get closer to the fun.

  Their open delight in seeing her made the pixie do a fancy swing—and another when they cheered in glee.

  “Sprites and cubs—they enjoy the same things, have you noticed?” Emma said, grinning.

  “Everything is more fun with pixies and cublings,” Darcy agreed. “I miss the tiny ones.” The littlest in the prìosan were now teenagers.