Doranna Durgin - Sentinels - Lynx Destiny

It didn’t seem to ruffle him. “Why have you come back?” he asked. “Where has your father gone? What do you do? What happened to your family years ago, and what drove you away from this place? Who are you talking to when you hold your head just so and look far away in your eyes?”

Bull’s-eye. The questions hit harder than she expected they could—maybe because of her instant impulse to respond to this complete stranger with whom she’d fought, who she’d kissed, and whose bloody arm she’d just tended. I left because my mother went mad here and I thought it was happening to me. And now that I’m back, I’m pretty sure that it is.

Wisdom overrode impulse. She huffed out a breath, and chose the only easy answer. “I paint,” she said. “I draw. I illustrate regional wildlife guides and publications.” She looked at her hands and abruptly stood to scoop up the detritus of her first-aid work, including the scraps with which he’d been playing. “Okay, I get it. Sometimes the big picture is too big. But those men...” She shook her head, rinsing the washcloth at the sink and watching the red tint of the water swirl down the drain. “I guess I’ll call the cops. Or the rangers. Or both.”

He stood with a scrape of chair, coming up behind her at the sink. For an instant she held her breath, waiting to feel his hands on her waist or shoulders. And then tried to squash her disappointment when it didn’t happen— because really, what was she thinking?

This man was dangerous in all ways. It struck her anew, clear in her mind’s eye—how he’d moved, how he’d fought—not just capable, but entirely amazing, using his body with a stunning effectiveness. Moving like she hadn’t known any man—any human—could. Not in real life.

Somehow she wasn’t surprised when he responded to her intent to report the men with a simple, “I wish you wouldn’t.” Not when he’d already declined help for a wound that would have sent her mewling to the closest urgent care center.

She realized the water still trickled over her hands and twisted the faucet with annoyed force—one did not waste water here. “Those men are dangerous,” she said sharply. “They threatened me, and they meant it. And they shot at you! Over a little bit of trash!”

“They shot at me because they fear me,” Kai said, and added in a low afterthought, “As they should.” Then, as she took a breath to argue, his hand finally settled on her shoulder. “The police will find nothing in that spot. They will find nothing of those men anywhere.” His hand squeezed gently. She supposed it was reassurance.

She didn’t feel reassurance.

Or if she did, it was entirely tangled up in other things.

Fear. Disbelief. Response. And somewhere, a whisper deep in her mind—one that came from without, and purred with possession and pride.

The whisper believed in this man.

Regan had no idea if that was a good thing.

Kai said, “They will not return to that spot. And they will not come here.”

She turned to him. She should have known he wouldn’t step away—that he still stood just that close to her, although his hand trailed down her arm to catch her hand. “And how, exactly, can you be so sure of that?”

He toyed briefly with her fingers, tracing them, running his thumb across her knuckles—touching her, until she suddenly realized he played with them just as he’d played with the crumpled paper—naturally and utterly without awareness. Her bemusement at it left her completely unprepared for his words.

“Because,” he said, “now they will come for me.”

Chapter 5

Regan hadn’t been convinced.

Kai knew as much, moving along the mountain on broad paws—pausing to inspect the dry pool, his head reeling with the intensity of the energies that had been released there, corrupting the ground, the air...the very essence of the land.

He knew she was right, too, about calling the police. From her point of view, it was the only response to dangerous and inexplicable behavior; he could still hear the impact of her incredulous words. They shot at you!

They had. But worse, they’d gone for her, too. Rather than quietly disengaging and returning to do their work another day, the men had defied the one single principle shared by both Sentinels and Core—that above all, they would bring no outside attention to themselves.

Not that he truly called himself Sentinel. He had not lied to them about that. He might have the blood, but he had no affiliation. No connections. No way even to get in touch.

The voice of the land stirred uneasily in his mind, as aware of the incursion as he, in its way.

Now they will come for me.

And they would. But they still didn’t truly know what he was—that they couldn’t hide from him, no matter how quietly they moved. That the merest whisper of a Core working would reverberate through his senses, alerting him.

If they knew, they would never suffer him to live, no matter that the ostensible détente between the two factions forbade such killing.

Kai left the dry pool to wend his way home, slipping into the subterranean structure he called home. More than a bunker, less than a house, it backed up to a tight cave system into which he rarely ventured. Once it had housed his family; now it was his alone—a strange dwelling of pioneer ways and modern innovations, of human needs and lynx habits.

So he walked barefoot past the scuffed hollow near the entrance where he napped when a lynx, and onto the barely raised wood-plank floor, grabbing a pair of clean jeans from a molded, military-grade footlocker and a plain dark blue T-shirt to layer over them. He stuffed socks into a pair of lightweight Merrell hiking boots and snagged a thin khaki jacket with a slim fit and an urban look to layer over the T-shirt.

Camouflage for a lynx in the human world.

After dressing, he walked still barefoot to the road, satchel over his shoulder, and struck out along the narrow shoulder until Greg Harris pulled his old pickup over to offer a ride.

It hadn’t always been like that. He’d walked the full distance to town many a time—but they’d grown used to him here and trusted him; they’d understood him to be safe if strange. Whether they saw him as a rugged individual or a crazy hermit, he wasn’t sure.... He suspected a little of both. And if they’d made a game of trying to figure out exactly where he lived, it was a gentle game that meant no harm. He was far from the only recluse in this area.

Greg Harris made small talk about his sheep and his orchards, offered the obligatory comments about the weather, the upcoming Apple Blossom Festival and the likelihood of a good season after the winter’s snowpack, then dropped Kai off in the center of Cloudview. With tourist season around the corner and a beautiful spring day of bright sky and brisk air, the entire town seemed to be out putting a shine on windows, trimming back brush and fixing the little things that always gave way before winter ended.

Kai had come into Cloudview for the library, another half mile and one steep hill away. But if he didn’t stop by the general store—an eclectic collection of goods housed inside an old barn—then they’d give him affectionate grief the next time he did.

“Kai!” said the stout woman behind the cash register, all gray frizzy curls and stumpy features in a padded face. “Hey, you guys! Kai crawled out of the woods today!”

“How’s business?” he asked her, having learned the safest ways not to talk about himself.

She snorted, waving a pudgy hand in a broad gesture. “What you’d expect this time of year. We should get ’em in soon, though. The valleys are already heating up. Hey, we just got in a big batch of that dried fruit you like.”