I crossed my arms against the cold as Charlie continued, and my father shifted into his line of sight so the injured tom wouldn’t have to strain to see him. “I heard this whoosh, and when I turned around, they were on me.” He coughed, then swallowed, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. “Then I was in the air. One had my arm, one my ankle.”
“I can’t believe they could carry you,” I said, thinking of how the first thunderbird had struggled with Kaci, as little as she weighed.
“Weren’t trying to.” Charlie closed his eyes again, and spoke without opening them. “They took me up about thirty feet, then let me go.”
My own eyes closed in horror. They’d dropped him on purpose. And if he’d weighed any less, they might have dropped him from higher up. They weren’t trying to take him. They were trying to kill him.
When I opened my eyes, I found my father watching me, and I saw the same bitter comprehension behind the bright green of his eyes. Thunderbirds were unlike any foe we’d ever faced. They swooped in out of nowhere, then flew off once they’d inflicted maximum damage. We couldn’t defend ourselves from their talons, nor could we Shift fast enough to truly fight them. And we certainly couldn’t chase them across the sky.
In the span of a single hour, they’d injured Owen, gravely injured Charlie Eames, and killed Jake Taylor. We were down three men, at the worst possible time.
The lump in my throat was too big to breathe around. How could we fight Malone if we didn’t survive the thunderbirds?
“Greg…” Vic emerged from the crowd and my dad stood to take the phone he held out. “I got him on the line.”
“Thank you.” My Alpha turned to pace as he spoke into the phone, while my mother did what she could for Charlie. “Danny? How close are you?” He paused as Dr. Carver said something I couldn’t quite make out over the static. “Can you get here any faster?”
I squeezed Marc’s hand when it slid into my good one, and we followed my father away from the crowd to listen in on his call. If he hadn’t wanted anyone to hear, he’d have gone inside.
“Depends. Do you want me in one piece?” Carver asked, and my father sighed.
“Just hurry. These damn birds dropped Charlie Eames from thirty feet up. At best guess, I’d say he’s got six or seven broken bones, and he’s not exactly breathing easy.”
“Thirty feet?” I heard astonishment and horror in Carver’s voice, and faintly I registered his blinker beeping, unacknowledged by the distracted driver. “It’s a wonder he survived a fall like that.”
“He wouldn’t have, if he’d landed on his head. Or on anything other than the grass.” Fortunately, last week’s ice storm had melted and dampened the ground so that it squished beneath our feet, no doubt softening Charlie’s landing somewhat. “I think he has a concussion and he’s in a lot of pain. What should we do for him?”
Marc and I headed toward the gathering as my father nodded and “uh-huh’d” the doctor’s directions on how best to get Charlie inside without damaging him further. Kaci caught my attention, still sobbing softly on the edge of the crowd. Manx had taken the baby inside—it was still cold out, and Owen was alone in the house—so Jace had moved in to comfort the poor tabby, but he could do little in that moment to truly calm her.
“You need your coat,” I said, rubbing her arms when she started to shiver. But her problem was more than just the temperature.
“Is that what they were going to do to me?” Kaci stared straight into my eyes, refusing to be derailed by my concern for her health. “Were they going to drop me?” Her eyes filled with tears and her pitch rose into a near-hysterical squeal.
Jace frowned at me over her head, and I glanced to the left, where my mother and several of the enforcers were trying to follow Dr. Carver’s instructions. “Let’s go inside, where it’s—” safer “—warmer,” I said, thinking of Kai’s prediction and his fellow thunderbirds perched on our roof.
“No!” Kaci scowled, and my heart ached to see a younger version of an expression I’d worn time and again. “You can’t just tuck me away in some safe pocket and keep me in the dark.” People were looking now, and my mother frowned at me, warning me silently not to let Kaci upset Charlie any more than his numerous broken bones already had. But the tabby wouldn’t be quieted, and I recognized the determination in her expression—from my own mirror. “That was almost me, so I’m entitled to answers,” she insisted. “What do they want?”
I sighed, well aware that nearly everyone was watching us now, including Charlie. “They want revenge.”
My father’s eyebrows shot up, then his forehead wrinkled in a deep frown. He pushed Vic’s phone into my uncle’s hand without a word and stalked toward me. “I think it’s time I met this thunderbird.”
My father stood just in front of the folding chairs, staring down at the prisoner, who’d made no move to stand, even after my dad introduced himself as an Alpha. “I understand your people—your Flight—” he glanced at me for confirmation, and I nodded “—thinks we’re responsible for the death of one of your own? A young man?”
The thunderbird nodded but remained seated, his broken arm resting carefully in his lap, but not quite cradled, as if showing pain would be admitting weakness. Werecats had similar instincts. Weakness means vulnerability, and admitting such to an enemy could get your head ripped right off.
“I can’t believe they could carry you,” I said, thinking of how the first thunderbird had struggled with Kaci, as little as she weighed.
“Weren’t trying to.” Charlie closed his eyes again, and spoke without opening them. “They took me up about thirty feet, then let me go.”
My own eyes closed in horror. They’d dropped him on purpose. And if he’d weighed any less, they might have dropped him from higher up. They weren’t trying to take him. They were trying to kill him.
When I opened my eyes, I found my father watching me, and I saw the same bitter comprehension behind the bright green of his eyes. Thunderbirds were unlike any foe we’d ever faced. They swooped in out of nowhere, then flew off once they’d inflicted maximum damage. We couldn’t defend ourselves from their talons, nor could we Shift fast enough to truly fight them. And we certainly couldn’t chase them across the sky.
In the span of a single hour, they’d injured Owen, gravely injured Charlie Eames, and killed Jake Taylor. We were down three men, at the worst possible time.
The lump in my throat was too big to breathe around. How could we fight Malone if we didn’t survive the thunderbirds?
“Greg…” Vic emerged from the crowd and my dad stood to take the phone he held out. “I got him on the line.”
“Thank you.” My Alpha turned to pace as he spoke into the phone, while my mother did what she could for Charlie. “Danny? How close are you?” He paused as Dr. Carver said something I couldn’t quite make out over the static. “Can you get here any faster?”
I squeezed Marc’s hand when it slid into my good one, and we followed my father away from the crowd to listen in on his call. If he hadn’t wanted anyone to hear, he’d have gone inside.
“Depends. Do you want me in one piece?” Carver asked, and my father sighed.
“Just hurry. These damn birds dropped Charlie Eames from thirty feet up. At best guess, I’d say he’s got six or seven broken bones, and he’s not exactly breathing easy.”
“Thirty feet?” I heard astonishment and horror in Carver’s voice, and faintly I registered his blinker beeping, unacknowledged by the distracted driver. “It’s a wonder he survived a fall like that.”
“He wouldn’t have, if he’d landed on his head. Or on anything other than the grass.” Fortunately, last week’s ice storm had melted and dampened the ground so that it squished beneath our feet, no doubt softening Charlie’s landing somewhat. “I think he has a concussion and he’s in a lot of pain. What should we do for him?”
Marc and I headed toward the gathering as my father nodded and “uh-huh’d” the doctor’s directions on how best to get Charlie inside without damaging him further. Kaci caught my attention, still sobbing softly on the edge of the crowd. Manx had taken the baby inside—it was still cold out, and Owen was alone in the house—so Jace had moved in to comfort the poor tabby, but he could do little in that moment to truly calm her.
“You need your coat,” I said, rubbing her arms when she started to shiver. But her problem was more than just the temperature.
“Is that what they were going to do to me?” Kaci stared straight into my eyes, refusing to be derailed by my concern for her health. “Were they going to drop me?” Her eyes filled with tears and her pitch rose into a near-hysterical squeal.
Jace frowned at me over her head, and I glanced to the left, where my mother and several of the enforcers were trying to follow Dr. Carver’s instructions. “Let’s go inside, where it’s—” safer “—warmer,” I said, thinking of Kai’s prediction and his fellow thunderbirds perched on our roof.
“No!” Kaci scowled, and my heart ached to see a younger version of an expression I’d worn time and again. “You can’t just tuck me away in some safe pocket and keep me in the dark.” People were looking now, and my mother frowned at me, warning me silently not to let Kaci upset Charlie any more than his numerous broken bones already had. But the tabby wouldn’t be quieted, and I recognized the determination in her expression—from my own mirror. “That was almost me, so I’m entitled to answers,” she insisted. “What do they want?”
I sighed, well aware that nearly everyone was watching us now, including Charlie. “They want revenge.”
My father’s eyebrows shot up, then his forehead wrinkled in a deep frown. He pushed Vic’s phone into my uncle’s hand without a word and stalked toward me. “I think it’s time I met this thunderbird.”
My father stood just in front of the folding chairs, staring down at the prisoner, who’d made no move to stand, even after my dad introduced himself as an Alpha. “I understand your people—your Flight—” he glanced at me for confirmation, and I nodded “—thinks we’re responsible for the death of one of your own? A young man?”
The thunderbird nodded but remained seated, his broken arm resting carefully in his lap, but not quite cradled, as if showing pain would be admitting weakness. Werecats had similar instincts. Weakness means vulnerability, and admitting such to an enemy could get your head ripped right off.
