Second Nature (21 page)

The third name on the list almost made Griffin drop the piece of paper.

Rhonda Cahill.

Martha had put her daughter's name on the list. It took Griffin a moment to figure out why an overprotective Kasari mother would do something like that. Martha knew her. She knew Griffin wouldn't stop until she found the traitor, and if she found out Rhonda had any contact with Jorie, not telling her would make Rhonda look even more suspicious.

Griffin stuffed the list back into her pocket, but the names remained burned into her memory. Rhonda Cahill. The name echoed through her mind.
No, not Ronnie. She's not a traitor.
Still, her rational mind, honed in months of training and years of working experience, warned her not to dismiss Rhonda as a suspect just because of their personal connection. No one was above suspicion.

Actually, Rhonda had just earned the top spot on her list of main suspects. Unlike the others, she had motivation for interacting and sharing information with Jorie. Rhonda had always been fascinated by humans. Her affinity had caused a lot of bitter fights with Leigh when they were younger, but Rhonda had never buckled under Leigh's pressure. If she was still fighting so passionately for a closer relationship with humans, maybe she was now trying to force the Wrasa to come out.

Grumbling under her breath, Griffin threw back the covers and left the toasty warm bed.

Despite the late hour, she found Max where he always was — behind the bed-and-breakfast's front desk. He took off his reading glasses when he saw her coming. "Ah. I wondered when you'd come to talk to me," he said without any greeting.

"Why do you figure that?" Griffin asked, neither confirming nor denying that she was there to talk to him. It was best to let him set his own trap. The less she said, the more he would talk. Nervous people liked to fill the silence with sound.

"We both know Kasari can't keep their muzzles shut. I'm sure Martha Cahill told you she saw me talking to Ms. Price."

Her mask of professionalism remained firmly in place, revealing no surprise. "And why would I be interested in that?"

Max blinked. Then a slow smile spread over his face. "You're good," he said with a respectful nod. "But even you can't fool me. You're here to investigate Ms. Price. Why else would her scent be all over you?"

Touché. He has you there, Griff.
Jorie's coconut and forest-in-springtime scent was becoming so familiar that Griffin had stopped noticing it consciously — but of course Max hadn't. "Let's assume for a moment that I am here to investigate Ms. Price. What could you tell me about her if I asked?"

"Nothing," Max said.

"Oh, so you were seen talking about 'nothing' with her?" Griffin didn't try to hide her sarcasm.

"We're not friends if that's what you think." Max stared at her over the top of the front desk that separated them. "She's a loner, just like me, and we respect that about each other. What Martha Cahill saw was just a comment about the amount of snow we had last winter." Either it was the truth, or he was an exceptionally good liar who even had his emotional and chemical responses under control.

Griffin believed him. Out of curiosity, she had already checked out the only Puwar in town. Like most Puwar, Max was a loner. He didn't socialize, least of all with humans. Griffin couldn't imagine why he'd want to leak information to a human and maybe force Wrasa to come out to the human public. All Max wanted was to be left alone.

That left only Rhonda.

Unhappy with that twist in her investigation, Griffin trudged back to her room. She nestled back under the still warm covers but knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Instead, she reached for the stack of paper on the bedside table.

It was a small stack, she realized. Jorie's writing still wasn't going too well. Two new scenes were all she had sent her beta reader, who had forwarded them to Griffin.

Griffin already knew the beginning of the first scene — the one that described the fictional shifter making pastries and meeting her love interest. She decided to skip the scene for now, not interested in reading about human romance.

The next scene grabbed her interest, though, and not only because it was well written. In this scene, the owner of the bakery where Jorie's shape-shifting main character worked was tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep.

Peter got up and walked to the window. At the edge of the forest, something moved. He looked away, rubbed tired eyes, and then directed his gaze back.

Something was out there. Something big.

Peter moved closer to the window and squinted his eyes.

The undergrowth parted, and a majestic animal stepped out of the forest, almost blending in with its surroundings if not for the eerily glowing cat eyes that reflected the moonlight. Then, as fast as it had appeared, the big cat was gone.

Peter blinked.
Was this... a lion? But... but this is Linwood, Wisconsin, not Tanzania. There aren't any lions in Linwood, are there?

There weren't. Whatever the fictional character in Jorie's fictional town had seen, it hadn't been a lion. He had seen a shape-shifter.

Is this what happened? Is this how she got the idea for her story? Some stupid Kasari getting careless right in front of Jorie's bedroom window?

She didn't know enough about writers and where they got their ideas to rule it out. Jorie wouldn't be the first writer to base some of her plot on experiences from her own life. And if the one night Griffin had stayed with Jorie was anything to go by, Jorie was not a sound sleeper. If she'd had trouble sleeping and had looked out the window, maybe keeping an eye out for one of her cats...

Maybe that was how it had all started. It still didn't explain why Jorie got cultural details about the Wrasa right, but maybe it had been how she got in contact with a Wrasa.

Griffin reached for the phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Evening, Westmore," Cedric Jennings said, obviously surprised, but pleased to hear from her so soon. "You already got something for me?"

"Yeah, but probably not what you want to hear. I just read Jorie Price's latest scene."

"And?" Jennings asked. "Come on, cat! I'm a Syak. You know I don't like dragging every single piece of information out of you." His tone was admonishing, but not hostile. He had worked with enough cat-shifters to know they couldn't change their nature any more than he could.

Griffin looked down at the pages of the scene again. "In this scene, a human sees what I assume will turn out to be a lion-shifter. I'm wondering if that is how Ms. Price started to suspect about our existence."

"You think it's kind of an autobiographical scene?" Jennings asked. "So you think she has figured it out on her own?"

"It's possible." Jorie was intelligent and a great observer, so Griffin couldn't rule it out.

"Are you reasonably sure that there's no informant involved? Do you think killing the writer and destroying the manuscript would be a safe solution?" Jennings asked.

The covers refused to budge, and Griffin struggled to get out of them. "No," she said more loudly than necessary. Then she lowered her voice, remembering that Jennings had perfect Wrasa hearing too. If she wasn't careful, he would accuse her of being emotionally involved and would take her off the case.

She wasn't emotionally involved. At least not the way Jennings would think. She just didn't like buying their survival at the price of human lives. Jorie's life.

"We can't be sure at this point," she said more calmly. "It's too early to decide."

"What are your next steps?" Jennings asked.

Griffin had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but now she could no longer avoid it. "I have to talk to a few Kasari," she answered and started to get dressed.

*  *  *

Griffin parked the rental car next to the bus stop. In the middle of the night, this part of town was deserted, and the buses had stopped running hours ago. She wasn't here to wait for the bus anyway.

Settling down on the hard bench, she studied the graffiti in the bus shelter. Humans might mistake it for the work of rebellious teenagers, but for Griffin's schooled eyes, the signs told her that she was about to enter the territory of the Ottawa National Forest pride. Warnings cautioned not to proceed without express permission.

Like the animals into which they could turn, Wrasa were very territorial. Because they spent most of their time in human form, they didn't just depend on scent to mark their territory. Coded ads in newspapers and online forums told them whom to call for permission to travel through another's territory. Or visitors could go to certain places and wait for the border patrol to pick them up and bring them directly to their leader — which was why Griffin was here. Tonight, she would finally see her fathers, the nataks of the Ottawa National Forest pride, again.

With her senses on alert, it wasn't long before her eyes and ears picked up movement.
Kasari,
her nose told her.

A slender woman ambled down the street. She seemed to be alone, but Griffin knew that she wasn't. Kasari never worked alone. Her partner was probably waiting in a car parked somewhere out of sight, making sure that Griffin was not a threat.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little Ronnie Cahill," Griffin said with amusement when the woman stopped in front of her.

"My name is Rhonda, alai." She hissed like an annoyed cat, and Griffin almost hissed back at the hated "alai." Rhonda had never backed down even from much bigger opponents, and she always gave as good as she got. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not so little anymore."

Griffin took in the gentle curves of her body and the confidence in the hazel eyes.
No, you're not.
Rhonda looked indeed quite grown-up even though she was still smaller than most Kasari women. Her scent was that of a mature woman — and she still smelled of books and the scented candles she liked.

As much as she didn't want to remember, the scent instantly reminded Griffin of the one summer she had stayed with her fathers' pride.

It had been during her Awakening, the time in a Wrasa teenager's life when the First Change occurred. Her fathers had insisted that her mother send her and Kylin to them so that they could teach their daughters everything they needed to know about shifting and avoiding detection in the seclusion of rural Michigan. Griffin could still remember the confusion, the vivid dreams, and the terror of that time, until she'd had better control over her emotions and had learned not to become overwhelmed with the pain during shifting.

She also remembered Rhonda Cahill. No wonder since she'd had a crush on Ronnie back then. The girl had been Leigh's best friend, though. Giving birth the same week, their mothers had formed a crèche and had shared child-rearing duties. Kasari society practically considered them to be sisters. It was too much entanglement for Griffin, and she had decided to stay away from Ronnie Cahill. She hadn't seen her for at least fifteen years.

"Let's make a deal," she said, willing to give Rhonda some respect but only if Rhonda was willing to do the same. "I'll stop calling you Ronnie if you stop calling me alai." The word simply meant "wanderer" and referred to a Kasari who lived on her own without close bonds to the pride, but when Rhonda said it, it sounded like a swearword.

"Deal," Rhonda readily agreed. "So what brings you here? Did you finally stop being so damn stubborn and decided to visit Leigh and your dads?"

"I'm here on business, Rhonda," Griffin said. If she let Rhonda and her fathers think it was a social call, they'd only end up being disappointed.

Rhonda shook her head. "Oh, yeah, I hear you were harassing my mother. I'll never understand how two sisters can be so different. Leigh lives for the pride, and even Kylin visits every once in a while, but you —"

"I'm not Leigh, and I'm not Kylin," Griffin said. She rubbed her head, right where the little bump from her altercation with the Maki had been. Her headache from that night threatened to return.
This is exactly why I didn't come for a visit sooner.
"I'm here to talk to the nataks of the Ottawa National Forest pride, not to my fathers." She knew Rhonda would understand the subtle difference.

"All right," Rhonda said. "Then let's go." She held up a hand and waved to someone Griffin couldn't see.

A car drove up to the bus stop.

"Get in. We'll take our car," Rhonda said. Custom required for the border patrol to escort visitors, and apparently Rhonda thought it wasn't enough to follow Griffin in a different car.

"I prefer to take my own," Griffin said. She didn't want to depend on someone else to take her back. If things didn't go well, she wanted to be able to leave right away. She doubted Rhonda would want to drive her anywhere after she had put her through a few dozen questions. "I won't stay very long, and I don't want to cause any inconvenience."

"Then he'll take your car to the house." Rhonda pointed at the tall blond man in the driver's seat and signaled him to get out of the car.

He seemed oddly familiar. The sharp odor of his hatred stung her nose and made her realize who it was.

Tarquin. His strong body held no resemblance to the gangling blond boy with whom Ky had fallen in love over fifteen years ago, but his reaction to Griffin was still the same.

Squaring his shoulders and angling his body, he glowered at Griffin. "What is she doing here?" he asked Rhonda, not bothering to address Griffin as if her answer didn't matter anyway.

Rhonda was clever enough to let Griffin answer for herself. Unlike Tarquin, she had never been disrespectful toward Griffin just because she was a hybrid. Tarquin had never liked hybrids. When sixteen-year-old Kylin had tried to get him to talk to her, he had rejected her with scathing words, telling her he wanted a real Kasari girlfriend, not some weird half Puwar.

Which proves that I have better taste in love interests than Ky does.

"I'm here on official business," Griffin said. "You have a problem with that?" While some Wrasa would never respect her as a person, they had to respect her as a saru. She would enforce it if she had to. Her gaze drilled into Tarquin's.