Mate Bond

Cristian handed the photos back to Kenzie. “The thing about griffins,” he said to Bowman, “the thing you might not know about, is they always come in pairs. They mate for life, so it is said. So the question is, O’Donnell—where is the other one?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kenzie did not want Ryan coming with them to the site, but Bowman decided he could, to his son’s delight. Ryan needed to know the bad and the ugly about being Shifter leader, needed to understand the responsibilities, even when they weren’t pretty.

They took Cristian’s car, but Kenzie drove. Best thing. Bowman didn’t trust Cristian not to try to wreck the car and make sure Bowman was in the part that smashed, maybe letting Ryan be badly hurt too. Then Cristian could pretend he was helping Ryan heal, maybe adopting him to raise him in Bowman’s place.

Then again, Bowman didn’t trust himself not to give the car a burst of speed along a lonely stretch of highway and push Cristian out the door. Kenzie driving was the best solution.

They arrived at the creature’s final resting place within the hour. Branches had been piled around the dead beast, the underbrush cleared, so they could burn the thing without torching the entire woods. From somewhere—the Goddess knew where—Cade had driven in a water truck, ready to pump water over the fire when it was done. Cade had many human friends, and he somehow got them to do him all kinds of favors.

Cristian scrambled down to the pyre, put his hands on his hips, and gazed at the beast. It looked pathetic now, waiting to be sent to the Goddess and the Summerland, but Bowman remembered all its tonnage charging at him, ready to kill.

“How did it die?” Cristian asked. “You killed it?” He shot a look at Bowman.

“We don’t know,” Kenzie said, before Bowman could take credit. “We hurt it, and it might have died of its injuries.”

“Or its master might have put it down,” Cristian said. “Maybe up in the arena, and it made it this far before it died.”

“Why didn’t its master chase it, then?” Bowman asked. “Or get rid of the body?”

Cristian shrugged. “Who knows? Have you found the driver of the truck?”

“Working on it,” Bowman snapped. He hated how Cristian could stand around and do nothing, and at the same time imply that Bowman was slow and incompetent. Undermining him at every turn.

“I would question him,” Cristian finished.

“Well, no shit,” Bowman said, resisting the urge to punch him. One day he wouldn’t resist, and that would feel good.

Cade had started a small fire with tinder at one end of the pile. At Bowman’s nod, he fanned it to life, and a flame went up.

At first, the fire only crackled a little, but then the pyre caught. The fire zoomed around the tinder, staying confined, and caught the body.

Shifters were adept at building funeral pyres. They never buried one of their own; Shifter souls were released to the Summerland by the Guardian. Every Guardian had a sword that had been made centuries before by a Shifter swordsmith and his Fae mate. The two of them had woven spells into the swords so that, when the blade was thrust through the heart of a dying or dead Shifter, the spells released the soul and rendered the body dust.

The swords had passed down through the generations, one for each clan. In the old days, however, whenever the clan’s Guardian was too far away, Shifters had burned their dead, which in theory also allowed the soul to reach the Summerland.

A Shifter soul lingering near its body was susceptible to capture, so the legends went, and torment. No Shifter wanted that for his father, mother, son, daughter, brother, sister, best friend, pack mate. Even this ferocious beast didn’t deserve that. The Guardian was present today, but where the thing’s heart was, and whether the sword would work on it, was anybody’s guess. The fire would have to do.

The Shifters stepped back as the pyre burned, ceasing their shouting, growling, snarling, and talking. Even Cristian became quiet.

Bowman stepped close to Kenzie. They gathered Ryan against them, the fire warming the frigid air. Bowman heard Kenzie’s whispered prayer to the Goddess as the flames consumed the beast.

He liked the feeling of Kenzie’s shoulder against his, her strength answering his strength. Bowman was still weak after the fight and his broken leg—not that he’d admit it—but Kenzie being next to him made all the difference.

The fire burned a long time, but the Shifters watched. The beast had been their enemy, but it had been out of place in this world, like the Shifters, and the least they could do was send it off with respect.

“Dad,” Ryan whispered, breaking the trance-like silence. “Who’s that?”

He pointed. A woman stood well back from the ring of Shifters, watching them. She was covered with a bulky jacket and wore a knit hat, but Bowman recognized her. She was the pseudo-groupie who’d been at the roadhouse two nights ago, the one Bowman had scared off by daring her to go down on him.

Bowman broke from Ryan and Kenzie and strode toward her. She saw him coming and, of course, tried to run.

No human woman, especially not one hampered by a padded jacket and thick boots, could outrun Bowman. She had a head start, but he grabbed her at the top of the hill and barreled on with her until they reached the arena. Jamie had driven away the abandoned semitruck, hiding it in a place he said was safe. The arena was empty now, and Bowman swung the woman around in the middle of it.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing spying on Shifters?”