gathered in small groups. He’d declared a rest break, but everyone was too keyed up to sleep. A few of the shifters were combing the forest for food for the rest of them. The shriek of a vulture on the hunt told him Meara wasn’t far away. It had been drizzling all day, and now fog was moving in. He encouraged
it with a bit of magic. Anything that would shield their presence might help.
selecting backroads that had stressed their truck’s ability. There’d been a few places where they’d all had to get out, but luck had been with them. They hadn’t broken an axle or even had so much as a punctured tire.
Vampires would still plague them, but he hadn’t sensed any since they’d passed Hannover. Was it because the Reich was using every single one of the fell creatures they could get their hands on?
Sex ran a hot second. The Nazi prison camps provided lush opportunities for both feeding and fucking, a resource far too rich to be ignored. Vampires might disparage the Reich, but they weren’t above using them to meet their needs.
believed they had vampires under their thumbs, but they’d be in for a rude awakening someday.
border and examine it for holes. Critical elements he might have missed. They’d be abandoning the large transport truck soon—not much choice, even though not having it created other problems. Every road had border crossing guards, and they prowled the terrain near their stations. The Nazis knew good and well that once someone moved into the Netherlands, they were home free.
off names of the principal players. Tairin, Elliott, Jamal, Ilona, Meara, and Gregor were shifters. All wolves except for Meara, whose other form was a vulture. Nivkh and two other bear shifters traveled with them as well. That left himself, Michael, Cadr, Vreis, and Aron, along with three other Rom from
Munich. It was hundreds of miles away, and he hoped to hell they’d be safe. He hadn’t always been a caravan leader. In truth, he’d only adopted the Romani mantle a mere century before. Or perhaps it had been two. Regardless, he’d pulled off the deception swimmingly—until a few days ago. Jamal was sharp. He’d asked pointblank what Stewart was, having intuited his magic didn’t match
Romani energy patterns.
was off-limits. He swallowed a snort. Romani magic had dwindled until only a very few had much left. But Jamal was a shifter, and an old, canny one at that. Leave it to a shifter to call him out on his long-running deception.
to Scotland, but he’d waited too long. He hadn’t understood how the Reich solidified its powerbase so quickly—until he discovered their mass hypnotism was fueled by vampire coercion.
somersaulted to his side, landing lightly. Silver-gray hair fell to the ground, providing both cover and warmth. Her shrewd amber eyes still held an avian cast, and she looked more raptor than human as she regarded him.
motive. “Ye’re not asking a question. Not really,” he countered. “State what’s on your mind.”
the odor of clay baked under a sun far hotter than it ever got in Germany—or the British Isles. Rosemary and fresh cut hay joined the clay scent, the combination the scent of many of her castings. Whatever she had to say, she apparently wasn’t interested in being overheard.
shifter could be touchy and had a short fuse.
is the time to reveal what you are?” Without waiting for him to respond, she went on, “Laying that aside for a moment, we must firm up the details of how we shall tackle the border. The shifters will take their animal forms. Crossing the border unnoticed should go smoothly for them—”
“Shifters are immune to vampire mind control. They’ve pretty much left us alone because of that, preferring to focus on more tractable prey.”
the Netherlands. One she was about to share. Perhaps it was less risky than his.
then. By my count, eight of us are stuck in human bodies. Seven if we take you out of the equation, but bear with me.”
the equation. She sensed he was different, much as Jamal had, but he’d been evasive in the face of her earlier probing. Was she hunting for information?
used it for centuries, and no one remembers who I was.” Meara frowned, drawing her gray eyebrows into a single line. “Surely your gods would. Shifters don’t have such things, but the Celts had them in droves.”
for hundreds of years, still being tethered to Earth and capable of responding to a summons for aid. It was one of the biggest unknowns in his strategy, and one he hadn’t spent much time worrying about. They had to get to Scotland first—a place that would strengthen his magic sufficiently the gods might take
notice of him once again.
Categories: Book tours