One True Mate 1: Shifter's Sacrifice (7 page)

An older
wolfen
appeared on the screen, sitting in an easy chair, his head back, his eyes closed, his hands soft and relaxed on the arms of the chair.

“Hi, Dad,” Trevor whispered, feeling sorrow gnaw at his chest and throat. He should have had so much time with his parents still, but his father had been older than his mother, and when she had been murdered, his father had only been able to hang on for three more years. This was the last prophecy he had ever received. He’d died of old age or a broken heart four days later. To
shiften
, they were the same thing.

Trevor had been five when his father had died and he’d gone to live permanently in the war camps, but he still had a few memories of the man. Of his mother, he only had impressions. Softness, a smile, a scent of warmth and love.

Trevor shot to his feet, unable to stand the warring emotions within him. He stalked across the room, hearing growling coming from himself, but unable to hold it back. He surrendered into a violent shift, dropping onto all fours, his clothes and gun falling onto the floor as his powerful body changed into the big black, silver, and gray wolf with the white boomerang on its left shoulder.

The wolf snarled wildly and hit the door at a run. He needed to bite, to fight, to claw and kill. But his only blood enemy, the demon known as Khain, was nowhere to be found, so he ran, ran through the cool, dark tunnels at top speed, ran for miles, body stretching to the limit with each extension and flexion. Each time he came to a dead end, where a
wolfen’s
family home was, he turned around and went back the way he came to take a different shaft, his claws on the concrete and the sound of his tearing breath echoing back to him.

When he finally returned to the prophecy room, it was at a slow walk, his head and tail drooping. He had met no one during his departure from sophistication, and that was probably a very good thing.

Trevor shifted wearily back into human form, anticipating needing to open the door with human hands, but Wade was already there holding it open for him, the expression on his face saying he knew exactly what Trevor had been doing and why.

“Thanks,” Trevor said dully.

Wade shoved Trevor’s clothes at him. “Get dressed. We have a problem.”

Ella stumbled over her own feet again, walking swiftly around and around her neighborhood, as the late afternoon sun began to drop behind the houses to her west. She steadied herself, looked over her shoulder, then slunk off into the grass to one side of the sidewalk. Her legs were aching. She’d probably walked twelve miles since escaping from Mrs. White’s shop.

The cool grass welcomed her as she sank into it with her back against a tall white oak tree, glad to take her weight off her legs, but terrified to not be on the move. She couldn’t go home though. What if someone was following her? What if
he
was following her?

“No,” she said under her breath. “No one followed me. There was no one to follow me.”

She took a deep breath and looked around, hoping the stillness and saneness of the cool day would reassure her that she was right. What she remembered could not have happened. A fox stole could not have come to life and bitten Mrs. White. She could not have caused a man who touched her in Mrs. White’s shop to shoot backwards twenty feet through the store with enough force that when he hit the front wall, he destroyed it all. Even if that was what it had felt like.

She had to have imagined all of that, right? Maybe she should go to the hospital. Check herself in. Maybe her sister was right, and she
was
crazy. Maybe her mother had always been right, and she was dangerous too.

Ella held her head and moaned deep in her throat. If she had imagined what happened today, had the man been real? Had she done something crazy in front of people? Had she torn through Mrs. White’s store and left by the back door? Why couldn’t she remember that part very clearly? Had Mrs. White really pulled a gun on her? Maybe the police were looking for her right now, for… for trespassing or something.

A small part of her mind tried to get her to think about the incident seventeen years ago. The one she’d somehow relived earlier that day, but she refused to do it. She refused to go there. Refused to consider the fact that the boy on the swings and the man in the shop had been the same person. Even though she knew they had been.
That voice.

Ella squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will her brain to stop working. She stood and looked hard at the winding path that led to the small park near her house.
No one was following her!

She stepped onto the path and walked briskly home, refusing to let herself look over her shoulder, trying not to cry.

***

Trevor pulled his clothes on quickly, securing his gun and badge, ready to head back out as soon as he heard from Wade what was going on. “What problem? Is he back?”

Wade dropped into an office chair near the small desk to the left of the door and held up a hand. “Relax, son. He’s not back. I need to know when the last time you were bound was.”

Trevor stopped in the act of lacing and tying a boot. “Bound? What? Why?”

“When I bound you earlier, what happened, after I let you go, I mean?”

“That’s when the building exploded downtown and I ran over there.”

Wade shook his head. “No, son. What happened to you? What did you feel? What-what kind of thoughts did you have?”

The desire to eat a bullet came flooding back to Trevor and he grimaced. “I don’t…” he mumbled, trailing off.

Wade stood and waited for him to finish tying his boot, then straighten. “May I?” he asked, holding out his hand. Trevor just stared. Wade waited him out. Finally, Trevor’s hand floated up on its own.

Wade took it with both of his hands and closed his eyes, drawing something from Trevor. Trevor was only too happy to let whatever it was go. The drawing felt good, soothing. Wade’s hands were warm and dry, with latent strength pulsing in them.

When Wade opened his eyes and dropped Trevor’s hand, Trevor did not like the expression he saw on Wade’s face. A combination of pity and sadness. Trevor waited though, a deep exhaustion settling in him. He knew there was no running from this.

“Grey abused you,” Wade stated, his voice flat, emotionless.

Trevor startled at the name. He hadn’t thought of Grey in fifteen years, since he’d escaped the camps and gone rogue until he was old enough to join the force. He walked away from Wade in the small room. “Yeah, he was a tough, crazy, old fucker. But he abused everyone.”

“Most of them got to go home when their fathers weren’t working though. Not you. You were at his mercy. He never should have treated you the way I am afraid he did.”

Trevor looked up sharply. He had no real memories to sort through of his time in the camp. He had buried all of that years ago, with such animosity his mind never went there.

Wade followed him. “How many times did Grey bind you?”

Trevor shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

“What did he say to you when you were bound?”

Trevor stopped pacing and stared the old
shiften
down. “I don’t remember!”

Wade held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I know you have a lot going on right now. I’ll deal with this. We can talk later after I find Grey, get the story out of him. But I want you to know that I will be sending word out to the
Citlali
that you are not to be bound. I should not have done it to you earlier. I sincerely apologize.” Wade hung his head and whined deep in his throat.

Trevor backed up, his mind spinning. “No, Wade, no, I deserved it. You were right to do it.” He hated Wade offering him supplication. It wasn’t right. Wade was a great and strong male who had taken Trevor in when he got here, been the one
wolfen
who believed fully in Trevor. Even if that belief was wrong or misplaced, Trevor still held Wade in the same esteem he held his own father.

Wade stepped after Trevor and grabbed him by the back of the throat, pulling him in for a hug. “You’re too hard on yourself,” he whispered. “If I find out Grey was behind any of that, the wolf will pay. I promise you.”

Trevor hugged Wade back, hard. After a few moments, Wade let him go. Trevor turned to the only thing in the room that could take his mind away from all of the stuff he didn’t want to think about. Work.

He snatched up the remote for the DVD and turned it back on. “You want to watch this with me? I’m afraid I might know what Khain wanted today.”

Wade pulled up a chair and the two males sat down. Trevor pressed the button. His father reappeared and began speaking, his eyes still closed. The words came out slowly, but clearly, as if he were being fed them by an unseen source.

In twenty-five years, half-angel, half-human mates will be discovered living among you.

This is how you will rebuild .

Warriors, all, with names like flora.

Save them from themselves, for they will not know their foreordination.

They will not be bound by
shiften
law, but their destinies entwine so strongly with their fated mates, that any not mated by their 30th year will be moonstruck. Those who are lost may be dangerous.

A pledged female will have free will that
shiften
know not. Never forget this or it will cause grave trouble.

Her body may respond to any, until she is mated in a ceremony of her choosing, then she will acknowledge only one male, as he becomes her one true mate, and she, his one true mate. He shall be sworn to her in her life’s purpose, to rebuild the
shiften
race, so that they may fight the evil
Matchitehew
and protect the humans from him, until the day he draws his last breath.

Trevor stopped the DVD and faced Wade. “The word
pledged
bothers me. Today, Khain said something about
the promised
. I knew we never referred to the one true mates as the promised, but pledged is almost the same thing.” Trevor leaned close to Wade, his expression scared and deadly at the same time. “You don’t think Khain is trying to kill our one true mates now, do you?”

Wade took a deep breath and stared at the image of Trevor’s father on the screen. “Maybe he’s trying to do something worse.”

“What could be worse than killing them?”

“Mating with them.”

Trevor pulled back and hissed between his teeth, holding his animal back with considerable force of will. “That
is
worse.” He stood, pacing again. “Do you think that’s possible?”

Wade sighed heavily. “There are rumors of Khain mating with our females a few times, by force or by trickery.”

Trevor stopped still, his entire body on pause. “I’ve never heard such a rumor.”

“Until today, such a word has not been breathed outside of the great hall. I only tell you because that prophecy was spoken twenty-five years ago today.”

Trevor’s eyes shot to the date on the DVD case. Wade was right. How had he missed that? Did it mean anything? Were the one true mates now
available
to be found? He clutched at Wade’s arm, excitement filling him. “How are we going to find them? To know them?”

Wade cocked his head. “Calm down, son. No one knows.”

“You talk to Rhen! Ask her.”

“Rhen had nothing to do with the one true mates. After Khain’s slaughter of our females, Rhen knew she had to do something or we would die, but her physical body has never recovered from the Act of Creation.”

Wade ran a hand through his hair and looked around the room, then back at Trevor. “How much of this story do you know, son?”

Trevor clenched a fist to his chest. “Tell me all of it. Like I know nothing. I can’t know what’s rumor and fact out of what I have heard.”

Wade nodded. “All right. I’ll tell you what I know, but I don’t think it’s going to appease you.”

Trevor paced again, unable to sit or stand still. Finally, for the first time, this information he’d begged for, longed for, dreamed of, would be shared with him, a non-
citlali
.

He nodded at Wade. “Tell me.”

Ella passed the lovely sandstone house on her way to her own, walking quickly, watching the house out of the corner of her eye. The moving truck was gone and no lights shone out of the bare windows.

She moved on, her eyes on her own house. A splash of white paint against the blue backdrop next to the front kitchen window caught her eye and sent a shiver of shame through her, triggering a memory from two weeks ago.

She’d been standing at her aunt’s funeral, expecting no one to show up but her and the priest, when men had started to trickle in. All older police officers, all in uniform, several in dress uniform. The sight of all those uniforms had stirred something in Ella, something she didn’t understand, and had no one to ask. She had wanted to know why they were there! Her aunt had always seemed to have no friends, no lovers, no acquaintances, and had been house-bound during her later years. No one had visited her in the hospital, but Ella counted thirty-four police officers attending her funeral.

As the priest had closed his statements and addressed her, they all slipped away, her chance to ask one of them how he knew her aunt gone. Not that she would have been able to work up the courage, anyway. She’d always been shy, but the way her mind had been slipping had made her more shy than ever. She was forever afraid of having an episode when she talked to a stranger. Especially a police officer stranger. She’d probably end up in a mental hospital.

Ella had walked home, feeling curiously empty, and wondering exactly how she should be feeling. Free, maybe. She’d been taking care of her mom or her aunt almost full-time for ten years, but now that they were both gone she had no one to take care of but herself. Problem was, she didn’t know how to do that. Her former life had made her unable to think about herself.

She’d walked in the door, turned on a P90X video, and followed the video for the full hour three times, till she was dripping with sweat and dropping with exhaustion. She’d showered, eaten something, watched a little TV, and fell into bed.