her pack, and carefully worked her way off the path. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, and she headed for the base of a massive oak with low, spreading branches.
Jumping, she grabbed the lowest branch and swung her legs up, wrapping them over it. The pack on her back threw her balance off, but she managed to work her way to the third branch—high enough that no one would easily see her, but not so high that she would break a leg if she had to jump to the ground. The lugs on her boots helped her grip as she climbed. She imagined trying to climb a tree in the pointy-toed shoes that Francesca wore and shook her head. She’d take practical over fashionable any day.
The rain stopped, allowing her to see the approaching lights clearly. There were four of them. Not good odds, but at least she didn’t hear dogs. Other than her breathing, the only thing she heard was the dripping of rain plopping onto her head and pack from the leaves above. She inhaled slowly to control her rapid breaths.
“The footprints stop here,” a man said, his low voice muffled by the thick air.
“Split up,” a louder, more authoritative man answered. “Marshall, you go right. You two, follow the path, and I’ll go left. She can’t have gone far. Tranq rounds only. They want her alive.”
“Not sure why,” the first man muttered. “Isn’t she one of those freaks? If you ask me, they should all be put down.”
“That’s why they don’t ask you. Let’s go.”
Someone cleared his throat. “What about shifters?”
“This is Cat territory. If you run into one, tell them we have a pact with their alpha. They’ll leave us be.”
“Yes, Captain.”
The military had a pact with the Cat shifters? That wasn’t good. The way the captain had said it implied that the pact was only with the Cats, not with the other shifters, but that was small consolation when she was stuck up a tree in the middle of enemy territory. If shifters were working with the military, that meant they had ties to Blackstone, however indirectly. That didn’t just throw a wrench into her plan—it threw the whole toolkit at it.
Kirra watched as one of the men—Marshall she assumed from the conversation—passed so close under her tree she had the insane urge to leap down and land on his back. His flashlight played around the area, and she got a brief glimpse of the tranq gun in his other hand and the real one at his hip. It killed her urge to take him on in hand-to-hand combat. Francesca could stop bullets, but guns were mechanical, not electric, so Kirra wouldn’t have a chance.
It gave her an idea, though. Most of the storm’s energy had dissipated, but some remained. Kirra pulled it into her until her gut burned and her palms tingled, and then sent out a concentrated pulse.
Sparks flew from Marshall’s flashlight. “What the—” He flung it away, cradling his hand. The light went out, pitching them into a darkness cut only by the faint moonlight trickling through the trees.
“Stupid, shoddy equipment,” he cursed. “Can’t even get a damn flashlight that works. Gun’ll probably explode in my hand.”
Kirra’s eyes adjusted again, and she saw him dig a spare pair of batteries out of his jacket pocket. She held her breath when he tried the flashlight, but the pulse had done its job and the new batteries didn’t work.
“Screw this. I’m not paid enough to go through Shifter Territory in the dark.” Marshall crashed his way back to the path. The rest of the team eventually joined him, all with the same complaint.
“She did it,” the captain said. “This proves she’s the right one.”
“Yeah, but how are we going to find her? I can barely see my hand in front of my face.”
“We’ll wait until dawn and get her then.”
Crap. She hadn’t counted on that. Kirra pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She’d have to wait for the right moment to leave. A brisk wind cut through the zipper of her
Jumping, she grabbed the lowest branch and swung her legs up, wrapping them over it. The pack on her back threw her balance off, but she managed to work her way to the third branch—high enough that no one would easily see her, but not so high that she would break a leg if she had to jump to the ground. The lugs on her boots helped her grip as she climbed. She imagined trying to climb a tree in the pointy-toed shoes that Francesca wore and shook her head. She’d take practical over fashionable any day.
The rain stopped, allowing her to see the approaching lights clearly. There were four of them. Not good odds, but at least she didn’t hear dogs. Other than her breathing, the only thing she heard was the dripping of rain plopping onto her head and pack from the leaves above. She inhaled slowly to control her rapid breaths.
“The footprints stop here,” a man said, his low voice muffled by the thick air.
“Split up,” a louder, more authoritative man answered. “Marshall, you go right. You two, follow the path, and I’ll go left. She can’t have gone far. Tranq rounds only. They want her alive.”
“Not sure why,” the first man muttered. “Isn’t she one of those freaks? If you ask me, they should all be put down.”
“That’s why they don’t ask you. Let’s go.”
Someone cleared his throat. “What about shifters?”
“This is Cat territory. If you run into one, tell them we have a pact with their alpha. They’ll leave us be.”
“Yes, Captain.”
The military had a pact with the Cat shifters? That wasn’t good. The way the captain had said it implied that the pact was only with the Cats, not with the other shifters, but that was small consolation when she was stuck up a tree in the middle of enemy territory. If shifters were working with the military, that meant they had ties to Blackstone, however indirectly. That didn’t just throw a wrench into her plan—it threw the whole toolkit at it.
Kirra watched as one of the men—Marshall she assumed from the conversation—passed so close under her tree she had the insane urge to leap down and land on his back. His flashlight played around the area, and she got a brief glimpse of the tranq gun in his other hand and the real one at his hip. It killed her urge to take him on in hand-to-hand combat. Francesca could stop bullets, but guns were mechanical, not electric, so Kirra wouldn’t have a chance.
It gave her an idea, though. Most of the storm’s energy had dissipated, but some remained. Kirra pulled it into her until her gut burned and her palms tingled, and then sent out a concentrated pulse.
Sparks flew from Marshall’s flashlight. “What the—” He flung it away, cradling his hand. The light went out, pitching them into a darkness cut only by the faint moonlight trickling through the trees.
“Stupid, shoddy equipment,” he cursed. “Can’t even get a damn flashlight that works. Gun’ll probably explode in my hand.”
Kirra’s eyes adjusted again, and she saw him dig a spare pair of batteries out of his jacket pocket. She held her breath when he tried the flashlight, but the pulse had done its job and the new batteries didn’t work.
“Screw this. I’m not paid enough to go through Shifter Territory in the dark.” Marshall crashed his way back to the path. The rest of the team eventually joined him, all with the same complaint.
“She did it,” the captain said. “This proves she’s the right one.”
“Yeah, but how are we going to find her? I can barely see my hand in front of my face.”
“We’ll wait until dawn and get her then.”
Crap. She hadn’t counted on that. Kirra pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She’d have to wait for the right moment to leave. A brisk wind cut through the zipper of her
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