Rachel Vincent - Stray

Bert was Umberto Di Carlo, Sara’s father, Alpha of one of the neighboring territories. And one of my father’s closest friends.

“How long has she been gone?” I asked.

“Since the night before last.”

“I assume they’ve questioned Sean.”

Daddy shook his head.

“No one can find him,” Marc added, and I twisted around to look at him. “He was staying near Chattanooga, right outside the southeast territory, but now his apartment’s empty. The landlord said he moved out a couple of weeks ago.”

I shrugged, turning back to face Michael and my parents. “So, what are we going to do?”

“Nothing.” Disapproval traced deep lines on my father’s face; I was intimately familiar with that expression. “Bert hasn’t asked for our help. We only have details because Vic called last night.”

I frowned at my father. “If we’re not going to help, why drag me home from school?” Silence greeted my question, and I glanced from face to face, anger building in a slow, hot crescendo. My mother looked away, but Michael stared right at me.

“What would you suggest?” he asked, narrowed eyes daring me to answer. “You want us to go in uninvited?”

Did I?

Bert and Donna Di Carlo controlled the southeast territory, encompassing everything east of the Tombigbee River in Alabama, and south of the Tennessee River and the southern edge of the Smokies. My father was Alpha of the south-central territory, which was south of the Missouri River and east of the Rockies, running all the way to the Mississippi. The unclaimed portion of Mississippi between the two territories was considered free range, where strays and wildcats of any lineage could live and run without having to secure permission.

My father and Umberto Di Carlo were friends—very old friends. But in the werecat community, even the strongest of friendships was defined by strictly observed boundaries, both geographical and personal. Breaching a territorial boundary, even with an offer of assistance, would do more harm than good, because the Di Carlos—and likely the rest of the werecat community—would see it as an insult. Our interference would undermine Umberto’s authority and call his leadership into question. We might as well announce to the world that we don’t think the southeast Pride can handle its own problems. No Alpha could afford to let such an insult go unpunished.

Did I want my father to breach another Pride’s territorial boundaries and risk breaking the peace, just to reassure me that everything possible was being done? Just so I could return to my life as soon as possible?

Hmm. Tough call.

Though my father was clearly disappointed by Umberto’s failure to seek his aid and advice, without being invited to help, he would take no action. Our boundaries were older than the U. S. Constitution and written in stone—almost literally, in the case of several mountain ranges.

According to tradition, werecats preceded the European colonists to the new world by several hundred years. Of course, we migrated on foot from the jungles of South America, rather than crossing the Atlantic by boat. Out of instinct, we formed territories, and out of necessity those territories overlapped areas occupied by the already-native humans. As is often the case with human boundaries, our borders followed naturally occurring lines of division: mountain ranges, rivers and large lakes.

Over the centuries, our boundary lines shifted slightly along with the evolving landscape, but they remain much as they were originally. Those lines are the basis for the fragile structure which keeps us civilized. To preserve that civilization, Daddy would not breach a territorial boundary line without permission for anything, even a missing daughter.

I turned back to my father, preparing to state my case. “If there’s nothing we can do, let me go back to school. The term just started.”

His frown was impenetrable. “You’re not going back until we’re sure you’re safe.”

“I am safe,” I said through clenched jaws, praying Marc hadn’t already told him about the stray on campus. Yes, my father would find out eventually; there was no stopping that. But hopefully he wouldn’t find out until I was back on campus and out of the direct line of fire.

“Sean took her,” I continued. “He’s mad because she accepted Kyle’s proposal, and he’s either trying to change her mind, or get back at her.” Like most tabbies, Sara’d had several suitors to choose from when her parents decided it was time for her to marry. Unfortunately, one of those she turned down hadn’t taken the news very well. Sean had thrown an embarrassing public fit, then left the territory in protest. “It’s horrible, and scary, and infuriating. But it has nothing to do with me.”

I was starting to panic at the idea of sitting home all summer with nothing to occupy my time but chaperoned runs into town for groceries. If I was lucky. I’d been free far too long to ever go back to the way things used to be.

“Faythe, give it a rest,” Marc said. Everyone turned to look at him, including me. I stared at him, begging him with my eyes to keep his mouth shut. As usual, he ignored me. “You know it wasn’t Sean.”

“How would she know that?” My father’s voice was deep with anger. He clearly realized he’d been kept out of the loop.

I watched Marc, still pleading with him silently to keep his mouth shut. Just this once. Daddy would never let me out of his sight if he knew.

Marc gave me the slightest shake of his head. “A stray tried to grab her on campus.”

“Yeah, but I kicked his trespassing ass!” I whirled around to face my father.

“Faythe!” my mother cried, horrified more by my language than by what had actually happened.

“What? It’s true. Tell them, Marc,” I demanded, turning on him angrily. “I can take care of myself.”

Marc shrugged. And he conveniently forgot to mention where he was while I was kicking serious ass. I briefly considered ratting him out, as he’d done to me, but decided my secret might be worth more to him down the line.

“You’re not leaving,” Daddy said, completely unmoved by the news of my first victory in battle.

“The hell I’m not.” I clenched my hands together in my lap to keep them from curling into fists, which he would see as a sign of aggression. “I’m never alone anyway, so what does it matter? I know you have the guys watching me, even though you promised me privacy. I’m just not sure whether it’s to protect me or to spy on me.”

“Faythe, your tone is unacceptable.” My mother never raised her voice, because she never needed to. Until I came along, it had apparently never occurred to anyone to disobey. As children, my brothers were typically loud and raucous, managing to find trouble in the most benign places, but none of them ever thought to openly defy either of our parents. No, rebellion was my sole territory to explore, and I’d pushed the very limits of what would be endured.

“That’s old news, Mom.” Claustrophobia constricted my throat at the very thought of being confined to the ranch for an unknown period of time. “I’m old enough to vote, I’m old enough to drink, and I’m damn well old enough to make my own decisions. And I’ve decided to go back to school.”

My father nodded to Marc, who stepped in front of the door and leaned against it, both arms crossed over his chest. It would take a bulldozer to move him, and heavy machinery I was not. “Don’t make threats, Faythe,” Daddy said. “We’re only trying to protect you.”

One look at his face told me things were going downhill. Fast. If I couldn’t keep my cool, I’d wind up stuck in my room until I was thirty. “I’m not making threats, Daddy. I swear I’m not. But I truly don’t need your protection. I proved that tonight.”