“It’s an island,” he explained to Rae. “A very small one, right on the subduction zone. It’s a remnant of what formed the Aleutian chain. Most people don’t believe the Graveyard exists because it’s remote, fogged over in the summer, and locked in ice in the winter. It was once a volcano, with a crater, hot vents, and a small glacier. People who try to explore it either can’t find it or don’t come back. It’s become a legend. Fishermen have been telling scary stories about the ghost island for centuries.”
“For good reason,” Piotr said. “You have heard of the Bermuda Triangle in the Caribbean?” he asked Rae. “It is like that, only much worse.”
“The Bermuda Triangle is a bunch of made-up stories about ships that wreck in bad weather,” Zander said calmly. “The Graveyard is real.”
Rae stood close enough that her body heat touched him. “And you think it’s a good place to hide?”
“It is a great place to hide. The Coast Guard has decent instruments but even the best sailor will think twice about bringing millions of dollars’ worth of boats into the Graveyard. We aren’t worth catching.”
“You hope, my friend,” Piotr said darkly.
Rae said nothing, only peered into the fog.
Ezra rose to his feet and made his way quietly to the stern. He moved slowly and cautiously, making no noise. At the back deck, he stopped and peered behind them. Nothing moved but the waves; no breeze stirred the thick air.
“What do we do?” Rae asked.
“We wait,” Zander said. “And I’ll try not to run into anything.”
* * *
The man in the patrol boat, which was surrounded by a sixty-five-foot cutter from the Coast Guard and another smaller boat of the harbor police, watched as the fishing vessel he pursued vanished before his eyes.
Carson McCade lowered his binoculars and retreated into the pilot house. “Where the hell did he go? Why are you stopping?”
Carson owned the boat, and the pilot, Miles Keegan, was an African American former Marine in his fifties. The man had reversed engines, effectively halting them.
“It’s suicide to chase him in there,” Miles said. “I didn’t even know the place existed.”
“In there where?” Carson fixed his steel blue gaze on the man. He’d learned in his fifteen years of first being a DEA agent and then a freelance bounty hunter that his stare could make people do things more effectively than shouting at them did. “Get this boat going.”
Usually Miles would say “Sure thing” under Carson’s glare but today he shook his head. “That’s what they call the Graveyard. If he went in there, he’s dead already.”
Miles Keegan, his tattooed arms roped with muscle, his close-cropped beard going gray, wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything. As Miles studied the smudge of fog before him, however, his face became stiff with fear.
“Have you sailed in there before?” Carson asked. He and Miles had been moving up and down the Alaskan coast for several years now, flushing out smugglers and traffickers of all kinds, and splitting the bounties. Carson had never seen nor heard of the Graveyard.
“Once,” Miles admitted. “I kissed the ground when I got back to port.”
“Why? What happened?”
“It’s a spooky hellhole,” Miles said, sweat on his brow. “And seriously risky. Rocks stick out of nowhere and the fog is too dense for visual navigation. Plus, there are fumaroles that burst out of nowhere and sometimes lava flows. That’s why it’s so steamy and stinky, even when the wind blows.”
Carson peered ahead of them. “What are the chances they come out without running into anything?”
Miles shrugged. “Depends on the experience of the pilot. He headed straight in, so my guess is he thinks he can come out again.”
Carson waited only thirty seconds before he made his decision. In that time he weighed the pros and cons in the lightning fast way he always did.
“We go in,” he said.
Miles gaped at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Those are Shifters,” Carson said. “Dangerous and illegally running around. They’ve got one of those God-fearing refugee Russians with them, who probably knows these waters better than he knows English. We go after them.”
“How about we sit here and wait for them to come out?” Miles said, making no move to obey.
“Is this the only way out?” Carson asked, studying the patch of fog. Not a bad idea to wait until they came blundering back into the light and catch them then.
Miles deflated. “No. You can navigate all the way through—it’s more like a series of inlets instead of one harbor. I came out the other side. How, I don’t know.”
“Then we can’t risk it. In we go. Radio the others; tell them to follow.”
The radio crackled even as he spoke.
“What the hell are you doing?” came the Coast Guard captain’s hard but high-pitched voice. She’d been happy to come chase Shifters with Carson but had gotten pissed off when he’d insisted on taking the lead.
Miles lifted the transmitter and held it out to Carson. “It’s for you,” he said.
Carson grabbed the mouthpiece. “We’re going in there, ma’am. Tell Shifter Bureau to expect a delivery.”
“Stand down, McCade. You’re not going anywhere.”
Carson respected the captain who was just doing her job, but he didn’t work for her. He also didn’t like to be told he couldn’t go someplace he wanted to. “You can follow or not, ma’am. Your choice.”
The captain made a noise of irritation and said several unladylike things about his appendages. “Wild goose chase, Carson. Good night.”
Carson and Miles watched as the cutter veered away, making a quick turn to head back toward open water. The harbor police didn’t even bother to radio. They simply followed the cutter, since they’d come out here at the Coast Guard’s request to assist anyway.
“Might be easier prey down the coast,” Miles suggested. “There’s the rumor of heroin smugglers on the Canadian border. Easy pickings, probably.”
Bounties on some smugglers were fairly high, plus Carson got a lot of satisfaction from taking down traffickers. The bastards deserved to be fish food.
Shifters, though. While they didn’t sell drugs to rock stars, who really should do better things with their money, or hook kids on stuff for life, Shifters were dangerous. Carson knew exactly what happened when Shifters went into a fighting frenzy—the destruction, the death of innocents. The blood. Pain stabbed through him and fired up his anger.
Rounding them up and putting Collars on them was too tame for Carson but Carson obeyed the law. He’d take these animals to Shifter Bureau and collect the bounty. At least more of them would be kept under some control. Shifters needed to be found, Collared, stopped—whatever the cost.
The report tonight of two Shifters in the bar in Homer, one half changing into a nightmare beast, the other shifting fully into a polar bear, had caught Carson’s attention. The cops in Homer and the county sheriff had ceased chasing them as soon as they’d leapt onto their boat and torn out of the harbor, but Carson, nearby and listening on his scanner, gave chase, his blood hot.
He’d alerted the Coast Guard that un-Collared Shifters were trying to escape and they’d agreed to send backup. Shifters were a recognized menace, a classified danger.
The Coast Guard captain, however, had been annoyed that they were after only a small fishing boat with a couple of Shifters on board, not an entire pack of them. She’d let Carson know how she felt about being dragged out of bed to pursue them with little hope of reward.
She might not get any reward except a pat on the back but Shifter bounties were high. If Carson took at least two Shifters, valued at fifty grand a piece, to Shifter Bureau, he’d have the money he needed to keep going. Not that he did this for the money alone or that a bounty could ever make up for what Shifters had done.
“Move over,” Carson said. “I’ll drive.”
“Not my boat you don’t.??
? Miles, a large and fearsome Marine, looked shaken, but he eased the boat forward. Carson knew Miles hated the thought of anyone but himself piloting the vessel.
Carson felt no fear at all as Miles steered them to follow the Shifters into the fog.
* * *
A tense hour passed. Rae finally convinced herself to leave the pilot house and go down into the cabin to get some rest. She had to trust that Zander and Piotr would navigate through.
In the cabin, however, she only sat and worried. Ezra came in after a time, taking a seat at the table.
“All healers,” he declared, “are out of their minds.”
Rae’s interest stirred. “How many have you met?”
“Just him.” Ezra pointed overhead.
“He’s trying to help,” Rae said. “He felt terrible that he couldn’t save your dad.”
Ezra looked faintly surprised. “Dad was gone—I knew that. I just . . .” He scrubbed his face. “You get used to living with someone for a couple hundred years.”
“I never knew my parents,” Rae said. “I don’t know who my dad was and my mother died . . . I’ve been told of bringing me in, but I’m not sure. I was alone in the woods when I was found. I don’t really remember much about it.”
Ezra’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a black wolf, right? They smell different from gray.”
Rae nodded. “As far as I know. I mean, I don’t know if I’m pure black wolf or my dad was gray or what.”
“Black wolves are rare. Have you tried asking around in other Shiftertowns where they have black wolves?”
Rae widened her eyes in mock amazement. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?” She eased back. “Sorry. I get touchy about my past. My dad is the Shiftertown leader and he asked around for years. But he couldn’t find any other Lupines who knew me or knew about me.”
Ezra gave her a look of sympathy. “That’s tough. Being without a clan.”
“What about you?” Rae asked. “Where are your clan?”
Ezra shook his head. “Most of them took the Collar. Dad and I held out. So did a few scattered around the state but we don’t get together often. If we get out of this, I guess I’ll go find one of them.”
“Zander’s not wrong about you looking for a mate,” Rae said. “I have some unmated friends who might be interested . . .”
She let it hang. Ezra looked intrigued for a second then hid it. “Not Collared Shifters. I’m not giving up my freedom to satisfy my hormones. What clan are they?”
“They’re not Lupine—they’re Feline.”
Ezra’s sudden outrage was comical. “Feline? You’d have me mate-claim a cat?”
“Hey, my dad’s a Feline and he’s wonderful. My brothers too. Living in Shiftertown has taught me to appreciate that all Shifters are special in their own way, no matter what their species.” Rae gave Ezra a teasing look. “Even though we know Lupines are the best.”
“No,” Zander rumbled from the doorway. “Bears are.”
His words were bantering, his stance casual as he leaned on the doorframe, but Zander’s rigid body shouted alertness, a Shifter in hunting mode.
Ezra came to his feet. “What’s going on?”
Zander tapped the doorframe with broad fingers, dark eyes on Rae. “Depends. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rae gazed at him with her wolf’s eyes and Zander almost forgot what he was going to say. He’d love to see her smile at him as she’d done when they’d sparred with the swords, the smile lighting her eyes. Her eyes had been sweet half closed when he’d kissed her. He wanted to see that again too.
“What?” Ezra growled. “Just say it, bear.”
“Good news—we haven’t hit anything and we might make it through in one piece.” Zander straightened up. “Bad news—one of the boats is following.”
Rae rose, bringing the lapels of the jacket together to hide her Collar. She must do that a lot in her life, Zander thought, when she was outside Shiftertown.
“It’s as dangerous for them to be in here as it is for us, right?” she asked tightly.
“If the pilot is as good a pilot as me, no. Or, yes. It’s dangerous, period. But now Piotr and I have to both make it through and lose them.”
“Then we’ll surrender.” Ezra stepped in front of Rae. “You and me, bear, we give ourselves up, and while they’re preoccupied with us, the human can sail Rae to safety. She is Guardian and far more important than either of us.”
Rae’s small hands went to Ezra’s arm to push him out of her way. “You can’t do that. They’ll execute you.”
“Zander and I can attempt escape later,” Ezra said. “But you must be free and safe.”
Zander’s respect for Ezra rose a notch. “That’s noble of you, Lupine. But I have a better idea—we’ll all take Rae to safety without surrendering. Much more fun.”
“Not only her,” Ezra said stubbornly. “But the sword. Humans can’t get their hands on it.”
“And they won’t,” Zander said. “It’s up to you, Little Wolf. Do you want to run with Piotr while Ezra and I battle it out with the humans or stay and fight?”
“Stay and fight,” Rae said at once. “We all go or we all stay.”
Zander warmed. “Good for you, sweetheart. Not that Piotr would know how to take you out of here, anyway. You should probably stick with me.”
“Or I could push you overboard,” Rae said, straight-faced.
“I already did the overboard thing, remember?” Zander grinned. “Didn’t slow me down much.” He kept his voice light, hiding his concern. The boat following wasn’t blundering about but coming on at a steady pace. Determined. The pilot just might be as good as Zander.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” he went on. “I’m going to try to elude him in the fog. I know a place to hide. The lifeboat is ready though, in case. If we have to split up, you’ll go with Piotr, Rae, who’s a better sailor than he realizes. You didn’t show your Shifter self at the bar and no one’s seen you around before, so they probably think you’re human. If it comes to it, Piotr and you can leave in the lifeboat, be picked up in open water. From there Piotr will see you safely home to Montana.”
Zander expected Rae to nod, to say his plan was best, that she’d willingly go home to safety.
Rae only met his gaze with a steady one. “I am Shifter and I’m not running out on you. The three of us can take whoever’s on the boat behind us—it must be small to come in after us, which means not many crew. We overpower them if we have to.”
Zander tried to stare her into submission, but she folded her arms and looked stubborn. Rae had courage, that was true, and she’d already proved she could fight. But if she kept her head down, hid her Collar, and acted human, she had a much better chance of coming out of this alive.
Eoin would hunt Zander down and disembowel him if Zander brought any harm to his foster daughter. He’d seen that in the man’s eyes.
“We’ll play it by ear, Little Wolf,” Zander said. “Now, we have to go silent, so pick a place to sit and don’t move.”
Both Rae and Ezra, instead of staying meekly in the cabin, followed Zander back up to the pilot house, Rae snatching up the sword in its sheath on the way.
Silent running meant no engine, no lights, sitting still, and making no noise at all. Sound carried across water, especially in fog. Submarines went quiet to escape sonar, to appear to be simply another rock on the ocean floor.
Zander didn’t know what kind of navigation instruments the other boat had—no matter what, they needed to blend into the darkness, become a part of the island and the wreckage Zander would steer them to. At the same time, he had to keep the drifting boat on course, or they would be wreckage.
Rae took a seat on the bench near Zander’s chair, and Ezra took the other bench, near the door. Piotr stood at Zander’s side, his usually ruddy face pale.
Zander guided the boat into the hiding place he’d chosen. This particular spot had been, he suppose
d, what had given the island its name of “Graveyard.” They glided past the upturned stern of a ship rusted with water and time. Another hull rose on their right, the bottom of the ship sticking out among the rocks. Bright green weed, the kind that liked volcanic rock and ash, had enjoyed itself on the ship’s metal.
A sharp crease of rock reared in front of them. Zander steered around it and nestled himself in beside another sunken boat, its bow up, the rest of it underwater.
At Zander’s signal, Piotr cut the engine and the rest of the power. Now they were a piece of driftwood, floating among a craggy pile of rock and dead ships.
The boat creaked and water softly lapped at the hull. Zander kept his hand on the wheel, ready to adjust their position as needed.
His Shifter senses heightened as he peered into the blank fog. He could hear everything in sharp clarity, from the noise of the boat searching for them to Rae’s soft breathing beside him. He smelled the brimstone scent of the fog, the crisp bite of the volcanic rock, the soft scent of Rae.
He also, with the unnerving ability his healing gift brought him, sensed the dead.
His healing power, as far as Zander had figured out, was part empathic. Far more to it than that, he knew—he’d met a Shifter empath called Seamus, but that Shifter had no healing abilities like Zander did. He’d also met a half-Fae half-Shifter—Andrea, mate of the Austin Shiftertown’s Guardian—who had pretty good healing ability but still not what Zander could do. Andrea’s magic came from her Fae ancestry, while Zander was pure Shifter. His gift came from Goddess magic alone.
All that boiled inside him and made him keenly aware of exactly how many people had perished in these boats, running blind and far from help. The fact that they were all human made no difference. Zander saw in his mind the position of every single one of them, lying forgotten and lost.
The knowledge clenched around him like a fist, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. The fear, pain, and the bravery with which these people had faced their last moments cried into his brain and wouldn’t leave him. Zander’s eyes clouded and his hand slipped on the wheel.