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Book: The Mercenary and the Shifters (The Turning Stone Chronicles) by C.D. Hersh
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Authors: C.D. Hersh
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shoulder. “Thanks for the hospitality, but I’ve overstayed my welcome.” Nodding to Alexi, he said, “Take good care of her.”
“We will. Thank you for bringing her to us.”
LJ rose and hugged him. “Thanks, Mike. You’ve been a great friend to Hugh and me.” Then she kissed him on the cheek.
Mike made his escape before she went even more mushy on him. He’d delivered her to Eli McCraigen’s without incident. His debt was paid.
Chapter 9
Mike tossed his duffel into the back seat and started the vehicle, his conscience niggling at him. In spite of Alexi’s reassurance the three women could take care of themselves, leaving them seemed wrong. But he had a job to do. One not based on altruistic motives. One which, in the scheme of his world’s curse, was definitely safer.
He rolled down the window and let the sea air blow into the vehicle. A salty, damp smell rose on the breeze, as if rain approached. He’d read rains formed quickly in the Hebrides. On the horizon ahead of him he could see a storm front coming in off the water.
A mile after he entered the main road, he spotted a pack of about ten wolves running in the opposite direction. In the sky, in front of the pack, flew two large birds. Mike did a double-take.
Wolves on the Hebrides islands? The research he did on the way to Scotland didn’t mention wolves as part of the wildlife. He pulled to the side of the road and watched the animals in his mirror. The birds appeared to be leading the pack.
He wheeled around and followed. In the same spot where he’d turned off-road, the birds cawed loudly in the sky and banked to the left. The animals veered and loped across the rocky ground. The wolves were following the birds.
He remembered the eerie mood of the empty airport and the bird he’d seen in the air as they traveled to Eli’s. Damn! They weren’t wolves. They were shape shifters, and they were headed straight for McCraigen’s hideout.
Knots twisted in his gut. Every instinct urged him to follow the pack. But Alexi had assured him the three women could take care of themselves. His brain reminded him of what happened every time he barged into dangerous situations without being fully prepared. People died.
He wasted precious minutes while his logical self argued with his instinctual self.
They die when I help. They may die if I don’t help. Altruism always backfires on me. So call it a job.
His gut won. He floored the gas pedal and roared after the shifters. As he neared the lake they had passed earlier, the fog ahead of the front thickened. Mike flipped on the fog lights and slowed, pounding the steering wheel in frustration. Would the shifters’ sight be enhanced? Could they see where they were going? He sure as hell couldn’t. If they plunged into the water they could swim across. The SUV would sink as fast as a boulder. He wouldn’t be much good to the women dead. He slowed to a crawl, searching for the beaten path he’d driven earlier.
As the ground sloped downward, he shoved the vehicle into park and got out, certain he was near the stream that fed the lake. Even at close range, the SUV resembled a misty lump in the fog. He searched the ground for tire tracks, counting his steps to the right and the left of the vehicle to keep from getting disoriented. Twenty steps to the left he found what he hunted. Returning to the vehicle, he cut the wheels to the left and inched over the ground, following the tracks. As he reached the bridge, the fog lifted enough so he could see more than a few inches in front of the hood.
When he reached the crest of the hill gunshots sounded, followed by howling. The pack had reached the house. Mike barreled down the slope and screeched to a stop. He grabbed his ammo bandolier, shotgun, and talwar sword and slipped them over his shoulder. As he reached the front door, he unsheathed his sword.
Chaos reigned inside the house. A giant grizzly bear tossed a wolf across the room with ease. A gray blur
“We will. Thank you for bringing her to us.”
LJ rose and hugged him. “Thanks, Mike. You’ve been a great friend to Hugh and me.” Then she kissed him on the cheek.
Mike made his escape before she went even more mushy on him. He’d delivered her to Eli McCraigen’s without incident. His debt was paid.
Chapter 9
Mike tossed his duffel into the back seat and started the vehicle, his conscience niggling at him. In spite of Alexi’s reassurance the three women could take care of themselves, leaving them seemed wrong. But he had a job to do. One not based on altruistic motives. One which, in the scheme of his world’s curse, was definitely safer.
He rolled down the window and let the sea air blow into the vehicle. A salty, damp smell rose on the breeze, as if rain approached. He’d read rains formed quickly in the Hebrides. On the horizon ahead of him he could see a storm front coming in off the water.
A mile after he entered the main road, he spotted a pack of about ten wolves running in the opposite direction. In the sky, in front of the pack, flew two large birds. Mike did a double-take.
Wolves on the Hebrides islands? The research he did on the way to Scotland didn’t mention wolves as part of the wildlife. He pulled to the side of the road and watched the animals in his mirror. The birds appeared to be leading the pack.
He wheeled around and followed. In the same spot where he’d turned off-road, the birds cawed loudly in the sky and banked to the left. The animals veered and loped across the rocky ground. The wolves were following the birds.
He remembered the eerie mood of the empty airport and the bird he’d seen in the air as they traveled to Eli’s. Damn! They weren’t wolves. They were shape shifters, and they were headed straight for McCraigen’s hideout.
Knots twisted in his gut. Every instinct urged him to follow the pack. But Alexi had assured him the three women could take care of themselves. His brain reminded him of what happened every time he barged into dangerous situations without being fully prepared. People died.
He wasted precious minutes while his logical self argued with his instinctual self.
They die when I help. They may die if I don’t help. Altruism always backfires on me. So call it a job.
His gut won. He floored the gas pedal and roared after the shifters. As he neared the lake they had passed earlier, the fog ahead of the front thickened. Mike flipped on the fog lights and slowed, pounding the steering wheel in frustration. Would the shifters’ sight be enhanced? Could they see where they were going? He sure as hell couldn’t. If they plunged into the water they could swim across. The SUV would sink as fast as a boulder. He wouldn’t be much good to the women dead. He slowed to a crawl, searching for the beaten path he’d driven earlier.
As the ground sloped downward, he shoved the vehicle into park and got out, certain he was near the stream that fed the lake. Even at close range, the SUV resembled a misty lump in the fog. He searched the ground for tire tracks, counting his steps to the right and the left of the vehicle to keep from getting disoriented. Twenty steps to the left he found what he hunted. Returning to the vehicle, he cut the wheels to the left and inched over the ground, following the tracks. As he reached the bridge, the fog lifted enough so he could see more than a few inches in front of the hood.
When he reached the crest of the hill gunshots sounded, followed by howling. The pack had reached the house. Mike barreled down the slope and screeched to a stop. He grabbed his ammo bandolier, shotgun, and talwar sword and slipped them over his shoulder. As he reached the front door, he unsheathed his sword.
Chaos reigned inside the house. A giant grizzly bear tossed a wolf across the room with ease. A gray blur
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