Doranna Durgin - Sentinels - Wolf Hunt

Just…a little sharing.

They needed a reality check.

When the meeting finally ended and they all gathered up for their predatorial meat-heavy lunches, Marlee grabbed up her Tecra computer tablet and her chilled Scooby-Doo lunch box with fruit and salad and went up to the roof for some fresh air and some privacy, not to mention the best cell phone reception in the building.

A place she could use her phone scrambler without question.

“I can’t believe you called me here,” she said, as soon as he picked up the phone. “I can’t believe you called me in the middle of a security meeting. ”

“Oh, come. Don’t tell me it didn’t give you a thrill. A deep, secret little thrill.” His tone was beguiling…personal.

She hated that.

“I’m not doing this for thrills.”

“Ah, there, now.” He backed off; he always did. It was how she knew he needed her.

But dammit, he always tried —getting personal, making insinuations—and she was tired of it.

“Nick Carter will be out in the field,” he said.

She didn’t question it, as unlikely as it seemed—for the brevis adjutant rarely went into the field, and when he did, he didn’t go alone. After all, Nick Carter, Sentinel shapeshifter extraordinaire, was the primary assistant to the Brevis Southwest Consul. Brevis Southwest, Brevis Northwest, Brevis Central…north into the Canadian regions and south into Latin America. All huge swaths of land overseen by men of too much power and tied by allegiance to their Brevis Nationals—although men at Nick Carter’s level usually wielded that power from behind closed doors.

But he wouldn’t have said it unless he knew. Not this man. “I need you to interfere with his incoming communications. Phone, e-mail…whatever.”

She laughed out loud, as ill-advised as it was. “You must be kidding.”

His brief silence served as a response. “I want a virus on his personal computer system—turn it into mush. I want them locked out.”

Now she let her own silence speak. She leaned against the giant EVAC housing structure on the roof—there, where she’d set up her lawn chair and shadescreen, habitually hiding from the sun even on this relatively pleasant early November day. Up on an old town roof in Tucson…the sun always seemed warm to her.

He said sharply, “You can do these things.”

It wasn’t a question.

She said, “I don’t work for you. I take suggestions when it comes to keeping the balance. If I didn’t truly believe—if I hadn’t seen —” She didn’t finish the thought. They both knew why she did what she did. Because the field Sentinels, the shapeshifters…

They were far too powerful. They called themselves protectors of the earth, but they’d gotten above themselves…beyond themselves. And while Marlee didn’t think the Atrum Core family branch had taken the right path when choosing to work against their druidic brothers those thousands of years ago in a Roman dominated Britain, she could understand why they felt the need to do it at all.

For not only could the Sentinels shift to another shape—each to his own, and invariably something powerful, something predatory—they often took on enhanced abilities even in human form. Keen of vision, keen of hearing, of scent…swift on foot, strong in hand. And most of them had their own individual talents. Wards, healing, shields…there was the field agent in northern Arizona who rode power, and who had been in not one but two scandals. How brevis had cleared him a second time, Marlee couldn’t imagine.

It was for men like him that she did what she did, driven by a childhood of watching subtle injustices and power plays. Made her small changes, her small interferences. Helped to keep the balance between the Sentinels and the Atrum Core, without actually benefiting the Core.

She watched a raven swooping down between the redbrick buildings, knowing that it, too, might well be a Sentinel, and happy it came no closer. “What you’re asking will expose me.”

“Ah, no,” he said. “Not my Marlee. You’re too important to us all. We’ll make sure you’re covered. And while this level of interference might seem extreme, it’s only temporary. A few days at most.”

Cover her? She’d assumed she wasn’t the only Sentinel in her position—mostly human, but come of long-established bloodlines. Not quite special enough to fit into this world, but with eyes open far too wide to merge happily into the world that knew nothing of Sentinels or Atrum Core or the ancient battle between them.

But she hadn’t truly considered how many others might be right here at brevis with her.

“I would not ask, my Marlee…” He let the words trail away, the implication clear enough. If I had a choice. If it weren’t important.

She hated the way those words made her feel. She loved the way those words made her feel.

As if he possessed some part of her…as if she’d forever given up something of herself to this man who was so used to taking what he wanted. And yet…as if she was making a difference, here among people who assumed she couldn’t. As if she was the only one who could.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she told him.

He saw her in stages.

Pure feral grace…

Surrounded by the chaos of the Pima County Fairgrounds with a complex breed ring and performance dog show cluster in full swing around him, Nick Carter caught only a glimpse of dark, lithe movement as the woman ducked wind chimes at a sheltered display and disappeared around the end of the vendor row. And though his vision was full of pop-up shade shelters and colorful wares, people lingering in the wide aisle with a variety of dogs ranging idly along beside, the desert’s seasonal wind gusting and lifting swirls of fine desert grit until it was all one big dance of color and motion—

In truth, in that moment, he saw only one lean woman: swift, bordering on rangy, dressed in black beneath an early winter desert sun. Black fitted vest with no shirt beneath, black crop pants, black leather shoes, tight to her feet. Black hair, short and artfully mussed. Pure bed head. Pure feral grace in her movement, taking her so quickly out of his sight.

He saw it all in that instant—a stranger, on his turf. A shifter, so obvious and yet unknown.

Forget about the troubles within brevis regional, forget about the increasingly problematical stealth amulets being employed by the local Core. Hell, forget about the very concerns that had brought him out here, signs that Fabron Gausto had returned to run amok once again.

Pure feral grace…

Not here. Not without his permission.

He followed her. Around the end of the vendor row, past the main building with its reserved grooming stations, show superintendent’s table, and show committee setup. Past the tall wire exercise pens teeming with packs of small breed dogs, all of whom invariably crouched or cowered or rolled over as Nick passed by—and now all of who still lingered that way from the woman’s recent passage.

At least he knew he was on the right trail.

Another glimpse of her, nothing more than a blackshod heel, a toned calf—but still his shoulders and nape tightened. It was her, all right.

It wasn’t a trespass he could allow to stand. Not with the entire Southwest regional office compromised from within, the aging consul a man who hadn’t taken his javelina boar in years, Nick’s own handpicked Sentinel echelon team wounded and recovering, and dammit, every sign that they were all still defenseless against the recently employed stealth amulets.

And as incongruous as it seemed, not with the recent incidents at dog shows in the area—dogs stolen, dogs missing. While the local law had chalked up such problems to animal rights activists, Nick had the feeling it was more ominous than that; it smacked of the Core’s endless experiments to harvest power that didn’t belong to them. With the Core, ominous was never simple, never moral.