Deirdre O'Dare The Thin Green Line 2 Wings of Love

INGS

OVE

…Alex came awake with a start. He’d tried to turn over and

fetched up against the solid bulk of another body, close behind him.
Too close. What the fuck?

The room felt chilly. He must have forgotten to shut off the air

conditioning unit. Damned thing seemed to have only two settings—
blasting out an arctic gale or dead off. He lay perfectly still for a few
seconds while his mind skittered over the last twenty-four hours to sort
things out. Okay, it had to be Manuel behind him. Anybody else
would have killed him already or awakened him, tired though he had
been. The slant of the light through the dirty mini-blinds told him late
afternoon had arrived. He’d probably slept long enough.

With surreptitious care, he slid toward the edge of the bed, then

slowly rolled over to face the other man. Yeah, it was Manuel. He
must be cold because he edged closer as Alex turned to face him.
Relaxed in sleep he looked young, but up close Alex could see the
beginning of squint lines and the early traces of weathering on the
other man’s tawny skin. His long, inky lashes fanned out, almost
touching the high cheekbones. The Indian had a strong blade of a nose
above lips a shade darker than his skin, lips that curved now in a half-
smile as if he dreamed something pleasant.

Without thinking, Alex found himself stretching to touch those lips

with his own. An instant before skin met skin, Manuel’s eyelids flew
open. He mumbled a startled exclamation, words Alex could not
understand. He guessed they must be in the native Tohono tongue.

For several seconds they looked at each other, so close Alex could

count every lash fencing Manuel’s expressive eyes, smell the faint
lingering trace of some aftershave or hair gel the other man used, and
feel the warm breeze of his breath…

LSO

EIRDRE

O’D

ARE

Armed And Amorous

Beyond The Shadows

The Canine Cupid Series

The Chap In Chaps

Daring Desires

Fire On Ice

Jesse’s Girl

Journal Of A Timid Temptress

Muscle Car Man

Special Delivery

Treading Dangerous Ground

You Were Always On My Mind

WINGS OF LOVE

DEIRDRE O’DARE

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

INGS

OVE

MBER

UILL

RESS

OOK

This book is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the

author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales,

or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

No portion of this book may be transmitted or

reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in

writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief

excerpts used for the purposes of review.

ISBN 978-1-60272-724-3

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

In memory of rancher Robert Krenz,

murdered on his own land by unidentified invaders in

April 2010. May his death and that of his faithful

canine companion not have been in vain. Go in peace and

harmony, never to be forgotten. The loss of a good,

compassionate man makes us all poorer.

As always, my thanks to the Amber Quill staff—

my publishing family—who made room for me in your circle

and continue to support, encourage and press me

to do my best. I hope to be worthy of your efforts! And thanks to

my Arizona Ambience special circle of friends who

are always there for me. You are the sisters I was not blessed

with by blood but my siblings of the heart.

WINGS OF LOVE

CHAPTER 1

Pinal County, Arizona
Early fall

When he paused on the crest of a long ridge, Alex Macalister

used the cover of a cluster of ragged creosote bushes and other
desert vegetation to mask his silhouette. The sunset glow and a
crescent moon riding low in the sky cast a faint shadow that
stretched out on the rugged ground before him. He knelt, steadied
his heartbeat and breath, and then sent his senses questing in every
direction. If a snake slithered, an insect crawled, or a dusk-hunting
fox or coyote crept within a mile of him, he would know.
Strangely, he sensed nothing. Such silence was not normal. It was
not good.

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Alex hunted alone. He preferred it that way. The distance and

chill in his pale grey eyes kept most people at arm’s length if not
even farther away. In his three years with the U.S. Border Patrol,
he’d proved his skills valuable enough he could now almost write
his own rules. As a special agent in the very unofficial Paranormal
Operations Unit, he surveyed the Arizona and New Mexico border
with Mexico, often on foot as well as alone. Not assigned to any
district, he reported directly to the southwest sector commander,
going through none of the intermediate officers.

The border knew many threats: drug runners, smugglers of

diverse contraband, undocumented immigrants and a variety of
foreign nationals seeking to slip into the United States for a variety
of unpleasant activities. Now one could add to the list—entities
existing outside the realm of normal earthbound human life.

This fact was not, as yet, common knowledge, never discussed

in any official communications, and classified at the highest level
of security. Still, that made it no less real—as real and serious as
death and taxes. This growing new threat had become the venue of
a small group of handpicked agents like Alex and the team of Liam
Malone and Rhys Davis, men who possessed their own special
powers to utilize against the dangerous new invaders.

::Shift!:: The silent command shrieked in Alex’s mind.
He did not question the order or its source. In the duration of a

heartbeat, he shut his eyes, curled in upon himself and shimmered.
A second or two later he launched into the air, clad in black
feathers subtly darker than the evening sky. At the same instant, a
shot rang out. He heard the bullet scream past beneath him, about
midline on his human form had he still been on the ground.

Close, too shaggin’ close.
Casting his raptor-enhanced vision downward and ahead of

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where he had stopped, Alex detected movement on another ridge,
almost a mile away. Soaring in that direction, he soon saw a man
huddled under a mesquite just below the ridgeline. Dressed in flat
charcoal grey, the stranger held a scoped rifle, one Alex identified
as a powerful and accurate sniper weapon.

A raven could not smile, but the man within the bird did as he

realized what a close call he’d managed to evade. Where did the
warning come from? He might never know. Sometimes he thought
such alerts came from an ancestor or a local spirit, sometimes a
deity of his Celtic forbearers from the dim past. Other times he had
no idea of the identity of the unseen, unknown friend who warned
him in time to evade danger. So far, it—or they—had always saved
him. Perhaps someday his luck would run out. The thought held no
dread, no threat. When summoned, he would go—wherever.

A tawny brown, ivory and grey streak sliced across his flight

path, mere feet ahead of him. Then the other bird wheeled to fly
under him, stealing his air for a few wing beats. After that, the
second hunter soared away. Alex identified a red-tailed hawk,
apparently out flying late. This hour of deepening twilight was
more commonly the realm of owls. His own raven form was also
out of its normal pattern, but for now, it was his safest guise.

He slowed his powerful wings to drift lower, as close as he

dared go to the shooter, still crouched under the stunted tree. Even
Alex’s superb vision could not form a clear picture of the man’s
visage. He suspected the shooter wore camouflage face paint or a
thin veil to disrupt his appearance.

Then as the wind shifted, Alex caught a whiff of the other

man’s scent. He filed that away for future reference. Varied diets
and many other factors acted together to give each human a
distinct odor. While few other people could detect the differences,

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many animals could. In this form, Alex’s heightened senses were
as keen as those of any wild creature. He wheeled in the sky and
flew on past, over the ridge and into a valley beyond, coming
slowly to the ground where he could change back to his normal
form.

Although his raven self had many uses, for most of his work,

his human shape served best. He tried to keep his shifting ability a
secret. Few even of his fellow special agents knew of it. His
commander did, along with another man they’d tried
unsuccessfully to partner him with and perhaps one or two others.
Even that was too many because who knew what some of the new
breed of crossers could extract from an innocent or careless mind?
Special agents were trained to resist pressure and even torture, but
everyone could be broken in time, in some way.

He changed back, becoming once more a man dressed in flat

black, with no obvious weapons and not a lot in the way of gear.
He had caches of food and water, even weapons, at critical spots
and, if he had to, he could shift and fly to them in an hour or two.
Traveling light was as much his habit as traveling alone.

* * *

Manuel Ortega halted to rest on a point just south of

Baboquivari Peak, where the white men’s telescopes had displaced
the old gods of his people. He had mixed feelings about that.
Although he recognized the importance of looking beyond the
protective cocoon of the earth and her atmosphere, he still thought
another peak could have done the job as well and left the mountain
spirits in peace in their sacred spot.

He loved high places. If he could, he’d spend most of his time

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in places like this, with the greater part of his people’s ancestral
home spread out beneath him. The Tohono O’odham was an
ancient and honorable tribe, deeply rooted in the harsh desert
lands. They had wrested their livelihood from the earth’s seldom
seen bounty there for countless generations. Many of them bore
Hispanic names, heritage of a long association with the people of
Mexico beginning with the conquistadores who had explored this
land centuries ago.

Manuel welcomed a day off from his duties as an officer in the

U.S. Border Patrol. The job paid well and let him care for his aging
parents, but there were times he was not happy with his work. The
job trapped him with too many people, too many tense, angry and
bitter emotional currents and sometimes required him to perform
tasks he felt were so wrong he almost rebelled against his orders.
He spent his free days as far away from the pressures and stifling
atmosphere of work as he could, usually in the mountains.

The sun dropped to perch on the jagged edge of the distant

ranges to the west, mountains bordering the Colorado River. The
sight reminded him he needed to start for home. Fortunately, he
had an easier way to get there than a twenty-mile hike over the
rugged terrain that fell away beneath him. Tucking his head down,
he shut his eyes and felt his essence slip into another form. Then he
spread strong, bronze-feathered wings and launched into the air.

He’d been about twelve the first time he discovered he could

shift form. Always adventurous and inclined to explore alone, that
day he’d climbed into a canyon in a new area of the desert
mountains and discovered a hidden ruin of the ancient ones. It took
him half a day to scramble up the steep and unstable hillside to
reach the spot. He’d slipped in through a narrow doorway in the
rough stone wall that blocked the front of a cave under a ledge.

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Inside, he found only a few beads and shards of pottery. It was
really not very exciting, but he’d sensed himself in a secret, sacred
place, one where perhaps nobody had been for centuries. That fact
alone thrilled him.

Crawling back out, he started to pick his way down. Rocks

rolled suddenly. He slipped and began to tumble down the hill.
Directly below him lurked one vertical drop of about fifty feet.
He’d climbed around it on his way up, but it looked now like he
was going to fall right over the edge. Panic hit for a moment
followed by a strange calm. Shutting his eyes and wishing
desperately that he could fly, something unexpected had happened.
All at once he was flying!

He would hold that memory forever. Finally safe back on level

ground, he’d been scared shitless at first that he wouldn’t be able
to change back, but he managed to do it. After a few more times,
the process became smooth and close to effortless. He just thought
himself in the familiar winged form and changed. It was that easy.
He had no notion how and why, only knew it worked.

As far as he could tell, no one shared his secret. He certainly

hadn’t dared tell anyone, not even his grandfather, who was a
medicine man. Although the Tohono O’odham did not have the
same superstitious fears about “skin walkers” or shape-shifting
witches as did the Navajo and Apache, Manuel still doubted the
tribe could accept his gift. They might deem him wicked and
unnatural, even bad enough to exile him from their homeland.
Such punishment would be unbearable. To the people of the desert,
family and tribe were the essence of one’s identity and a necessity
for survival.

Soaring lower over the foothills, he caught sight of two men,

gradually approaching each other across some of the foothill

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ridges. They both wore dark clothes, but only one carried a rifle.
The rifle bearer crossed through a saddle and settled himself under
a twisted tree. His actions piqued Manuel’s curiosity. What was he
planning to do?

Then the other man crested the long hill to the northwest of the

first man’s hiding place and stopped, partly concealed in a stand of
scrubby creosote and burro weed. Down in the lower east-facing
slopes, twilight had already come, although Manuel still flew in the
last rays of sunlight, some two thousand feet over the lower terrain.

He was not sure why or how he knew, but all at once, he sensed

the man with the rifle was aiming at the other man. How could he
possibly warn the second man quickly enough to move? Or could
he distract the shooter? What should he do? Perhaps he
subconsciously screamed a telepathic warning in that last tense
instant. Still, he almost missed a wing beat when the second man
suddenly shifted, transforming into a raven and flying clear of the
bullet that sped his way.

Manuel then could not resist flying close to the other bird, but

he knew no way to let the raven know the red-tailed hawk passing
him was also a shape shifter. He could hardly believe there were
really two of them. Had he seen true or was it all an illusion? He
had no way to tell. After circling the raven, he angled away and
continued toward home, dropping to the ground to shift back to his
normal form before he got too close to the village where he lived.

Even as he settled in his bed for the night, the excitement of the

strange encounter spun through his mind. At twenty-eight, he was
an oddity among his people to be unmarried still. Something in
him had shied away from such a close connection with anyone, a
level of intimacy, which in time might reveal his secret and make
him a pariah. How could he wish such a thing on an unsuspecting

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woman if he married? What about their children?

Now untold possibilities opened before him. What if there were

others like him? If not many at least some who had this peculiar
gift? What if he could find and join their community? His parents
would not be around forever and once they were gone, he would be
very alone. Hope and fear warred within him as he struggled to fall
asleep.

Although he’d prefer to return and try to find the unusual

raven, he had to go back to work. Tomorrow. The first thing he had
to do was report to the sergeant in charge of this district. He felt
pretty sure he wasn’t in trouble, but he always worried if the boss
called him in. Such notice seldom turned out well. What if they
sent him off to another area far away? What would his parents do?
Tangled thoughts buzzed through his brain, making sleep hard to
find. When he did drift off, it was to dream of flying.

* * *

When Manuel entered Sergeant Wallace’s office the next day,

he’d fought the internal butterflies to an uneasy standstill. He
managed to hold his head high and keep his face impassive.
Whatever happened, he’d deal with it.

He skidded to a stop when he saw two other men were already

there. He wasn’t sure what rank the one man held, but he knew the
face. Clayton Chiles was the director of the whole Southwest
Sector. For him to be here, something major must be going down.
Manuel’s stomach dropped to the level of his shiny black boot
toes. Oh, shit, oh, mother-loving shit…

The other man was no one he knew. If he’d ever seen the guy

before he’d remember, no question. The second man must be at

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least six-foot-four or five, very lean, but with a wiry toughness
about him and a posture that spoke of power and confidence. Still
his eyes were the thing that stopped Manuel in his tracks. They
were a raptor’s eyes—gray instead of the gold you might expect in
a hawk or an eagle, but the same keen, emotionless and
unswerving gaze, a look that went through you like a fine, sharp
blade—a killing thrust without a drop of blood, almost without
pain.

Santa Madre and all the spirits. Who is this man?
Sergeant Wallace turned toward Manuel and smiled. It was a

sickly smile, one Manuel did not trust.

“Good morning, Patrolman Ortega. It seems like Commander

Chiles heard about your work last month in breaking up that wolf
pack. He’s very interested in your—um, your varied skills.”

Manuel glanced quickly from the sergeant to the director and

back. “Wolf pack? There are no wolves here, not in the desert.
That’s a bad joke.”

“The drug runners, Manny. I meant the drug runners. Anyway,

the director wants to offer you a new post with a special unit he has
operating on some unusual cases. You speak both Spanish and the
Tohono language plus English and have a good knowledge of the
terrain in this part of the desert.”

Still more than a bit confused, Manuel glanced quickly from

one man to another, skating by the third one without making eye
contact. He had a feeling he was really not going to like what he
was about to hear.

“Apparently,” Sergeant Wallace continued, “there are rumors

of some heightened activity we want to squash before it gets out of
hand. You’ll be working with Agent Macalister for now, starting
your new duty tomorrow.”

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The fierce-eyed man had to be Macalister. He stood and

extended a hand. Manuel almost crossed himself and then made a
traditional warding sign used by his tribe against “evil eye” and
other malevolent magic. Gotta cover all the bases in events like
this. What in hell have I done to deserve such an honor?

He wanted to wipe his sweaty palms down his trousers before

he accepted the hand Macalister extended, but he didn’t.

“My pleasure, Patrolman Ortega. I’m supposed to brief you on

our assignment, but we can handle that tomorrow before we get
started. Although I’ve worked this area some, it’s not totally
familiar to me yet. Since this is your territory, your home, I hope
you’re willing to take the role of navigator for the time being.”

The tall man’s voice was low, uninflected, as lacking in

emotion as his pale gaze. When their hands met, a jolt of energy
seared along Manuel’s nerves as if he had touched a live wire. He
wasn’t sure whether he was terrified, aroused, dismayed or simply
shocked.

Whatever he’d anticipated from his meeting with the boss

today, this was about as far from his expectations as anything
could be. An ass chewing, a strongly worded “suggestion” about
some of the tasks where he was less than enthusiastic, a change of
duty station or assignment maybe, but to another division like
Texas or the west coast, not to a whole new special unit he’d
hardly even known existed. Some of the other patrolmen had
mentioned a special agent passing through, a cold fish kind of guy
they were not comfortable with, but Manuel had paid little heed. It
hadn’t affected him at all—until now.

* * *

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Alex studied the man he’d just learned was going to be his new

partner. He didn’t need a partner, didn’t want one, and certainly
had not requested one! Perhaps he could make this a very short
term pairing. He’d done it before.

Manuel Ortega stood about five-foot-ten, built husky and solid

like most of his tribe, ancient desert dwellers who had been here
before the Spaniards landed in the new world. The older members
tended to run to fat and often fell prey to diabetes, Alex knew.
Likely, their metabolism had never adapted to the rich diet the
Europeans had brought to them. Fragments of facts he’d learned in
anthropology classes skidded through his mind in no particular
order. He never forgot anything, but at times, his brain didn’t keep
all the data neatly arranged.

Despite Alex’s normal remoteness, a peculiar kind of

awareness touched him as his hand met the other man’s, a swift
surge of energy, a subtle kind of connection that was totally
unexpected. What is it about this guy? Seems I don’t know half
enough about Indians, to say nothing of this tribe. He’s got to have
some kind of power, medicine I guess they’d call it. Okay, I’m
starting to understand this now. Chiles knew something…

At least for now, Ortega appeared to be all muscle, solid as the

proverbial brick shithouse. Not, Alex told himself, that he cared
one way or the other. The Indian returned Alex’s study with veiled
onyx eyes and a deadpan expression, but Alex sensed the other
man didn’t feel much more comfortable with the situation than
Alex did. Clearly, this was a complete surprise to the younger
patrolman.

Alex reminded himself to discuss the peculiar wolf thing in

more depth at the first opportunity. It sounded like Wallace had
almost let a very peculiar cat out of the bag. Werewolves maybe?

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But why would they be involved in drug running? Alex had never
met one, but he did not doubt they existed. If he could transform
into one of Morrigan’s own ravens, then a man who could become
a wolf was equally possible.

Shifting his attention to his boss, Alex listened as Chiles spoke

with Wallace, seemingly about very casual and mundane matters.
Clayton Chiles was a man of many facets. So slender he appeared
almost slight, the Texan had light brown hair going now to gray
and eyes almost as pale and cold as Alex’s own. As far as Alex had
been able to tell, Chiles had no special paranormal powers, but
there was no question he accepted and respected them.

Other than the one fleeting jolt of energy, the young Indian

man gave no obvious hint of any special powers either, but that
didn’t mean he lacked them. Alex could think of no other reason to
bring him into the Paranormal Operations Unit or POU as they
normally called it. The excuse that Ortega knew this region seemed
lame at best. So did many other officers stationed in Arizona. Why
had Chiles selected Patrolman Ortega?

Thus far, for reasons still unknown, the incursions of inhuman

invaders had focused on the southern border, especially the most
remote areas of New Mexico and Arizona. Since this was Chiles’
sector, that could have been the one and only reason the higher ups
had put him in charge of the POU operation. Still, Alex had to
wonder. Was Chiles a closet empowered person as well? Very few
advertised their gifts, whatever they might be. He’d like to be there
if and when Chiles ever came out. With his fine bones and sharp
features, the commander could easily be a bird-shifter, too, or carry
some blood of the ancient Sidhe, some of whom had been winged,
or…Hell, his whole appearance could even be an illusion.

Alex grinned to himself. He knew there were other bird-

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shifters—somewhere—but so far, he had yet to meet any aside
from his own family. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. It was
cool to be unique. His Highland Scots grandfather had told him the
family carried blood of elder races, both the Sidhe and the Tuatha
de Dannan. The old man thought the ancient blood was where the
gift came from, a gift that had come down through many
generations. At the time Alex had laughed, putting little credence
or importance in the legends. Not until maturity had he learned to
control his shifting and harness the enhanced sensory powers that
came with it. Now both were second nature to him.

He’d come to recognize a lot of old myths had a hidden germ

of truth, but they’d been retold too many times to readily extract it
from the balderdash. They’d become mostly just folk and fairy
tales, amusing but not important. He often thought there was
probably a solid scientific explanation for shape-shifters and many
of the other anomalies, if science would just quit scoffing and
study them. Maybe he should have gone into that line of work
instead of law enforcement, but after a short stint in the military,
where he did not fit well, the chance to work alone had appealed to
him. Now he’d invested too much time and effort to change
careers.

Belatedly he realized Manuel Ortega had spoken to him and

now awaited a response. He switched mental gears quickly and
went back a few seconds to what the other man had said.

“Sure, we can meet at the café across the street in the morning

if that suits your schedule. Maybe about half an hour before shift
change to give ourselves time to get organized?”

The Indian nodded before he turned abruptly and marched out.

Alex shook his head at the other man’s stiff posture. This was not
going to be easy for either of them. If they could agree quickly that

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it was not going to work, perhaps the arrangement would soon end.

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CHAPTER 2

Alex pulled up at the café a few minutes early. He figured

they’d have breakfast and then plan their first day as a team.
Manuel parked beside him before Alex could get out of his black
SUV. The shorter man drove a beat up Ford pickup, probably at
least half as old as he was.

“They make a great breakfast burrito in here,” Manuel said by

way of a greeting. “One of them will keep me going all day—
they’re packed full of great stuff.”

Alex refrained from making a face. “Do they possibly serve

oatmeal?”

The pained expression that crossed Manuel’s face clearly

showed their culture gap. To the Indian it appeared oatmeal might
be slightly more appetizing than horseshit. He swallowed before he

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answered. “I have no idea,” he said, somewhat stiffly. “I guess you
can ask.”

They went in together and settled in a booth in a back corner.

The waitress was clearly one of the Tohono, a young woman more
handsome than pretty to Alex’s taste, a bit too buxom and bold in
manner. She smiled warmly at Manuel, but he did not respond. Her
eyes widened when Alex asked about the oatmeal.

“I’ll see,” she said. “I think the cook might… Well, I’ll see.”
As it turned out, they actually did and it was tolerable, nothing

like the imported steel cut oats Alex preferred, but at least not
instant. With cream, honey and a dollop of butter he was able to
eat it easily enough. Meanwhile, Manuel dug into a massive tortilla
wrapped around enough filling to satisfy half an army, or so it
appeared.

They both had coffee and it was actually very good. One

custom from the British Isles Alex had not brought with him was
drinking tea. You could not get a decent cup of English Breakfast
many places anyway, and coffee got at least one free refill and
often more without having to ask.

As they sipped a final cup, Alex broke the uncomfortable

silence. “I normally drive my own vehicle,” he said. “Commander
Chiles is okay with that, and since you’re part of our unit now, at
least for the time being, you’re welcome to ride with me. All my
gear’s in place, but there’s room for yours as well.”

Manuel hesitated a few seconds. “Okay. I usually get a pickup

out of the motor pool and sometimes an ATV or a saddle horse,
depending on where I’m heading. I feel dumb for asking, but what
the fuck are we supposed to be doing? Sergeant Wallace didn’t tell
me shit and— Well, you were there yesterday. I’m tracking in the
dark here.”

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Alex shook his head. “I figured as much. Do you now about the

POU?”

“The pow? Like pee-oh-dubya? I don’t think so, at least not

how it applies to the border patrol.” Manuel’s puzzlement painted
his face so strongly Alex could not imagine the reaction contrived.

“Shit. I should’ve guessed. Okay—there’s a special unit

devoted to the weird stuff. They call it the Paranormal Ops Unit or
POU. The agents are all handpicked for having some special
ability or talent for dealing with the paranormal. Have you heard of
Liam Malone and Rhys Davis? They were the first.”

“Stories, wild ass stories is all, but yeah. Hell, they’re like

comic book super heroes or something.”

Alex snorted. “Not quite. No Superman or Spider-Man there,

but they have done a few awesome things. I was maybe the sixth or
eighth man hired for the POU and went directly to the unit when I
came on board. It’s been almost three years now. Apparently,
somebody thinks there’s something special about you. Wallace
mentioned wolves—that wouldn’t be werewolves, would it?”

Manuel’s expression became a study in horror and dismay.

“Werewolves? Are you kidding? No fucking way! There’s woman
out on the Rez claims she saw these three guys turn into wolves
when a bunch of us patrolmen were after them, closing in. Drug
runners, that’s what they were…all they were. Caught ’em the next
day, and they were just normal Mexican drug runners. As for the
wolves, that’s gotta be bullshit. It’s almost like a bad joke now
even if Juanita Corrales swears on a stack of Bibles that she saw it
with her own eyes. I’d say she was hitting the cheap Tokay too
hard or maybe a little peyote.”

“I just wondered,” Alex said. “Whatever. At any rate, there’re

some strange beings cropping up on both sides of the border. It

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started with the murderous critter Liam and Rhys banished using
some of their old magic from the Druid days, but there’re more.
They just keep coming.

“I think Chiles must’ve heard the wolf story. He may even

think there’s something to it. If special orders for us are coming
down, though, I haven’t got them yet. So far, I’m just doing my
normal thing—patrolling by myself, or I was until they added you
to the team. Somebody seems to think you’ve got a skill we need.”

At that, Manuel’s face went very still and his dark eyes turned

totally opaque. “I can’t imagine what that would be,” he mumbled.
“I’m just an ordinary plain Indian boy who went in the army and
then to school and took a job I sometimes hate like poison, but it
pays my bills and lets me take care of my folks.”

So whatever his talent is, he knows, but isn’t about to admit

anything. No surprise. I don’t tell the world either. Boy, we’ll make
a great pair, holding our secrets like a hidden high card and
coming from damn near different worlds. This is going to be real
interesting.

Alex found a casual smile and put it on. “Well, we’ll learn as

we go. I expect.” He collected the two bills as he stood. “Let’s go
fight crime. The peaceful streets of the U.S. of A. will be safer for
our vigilance.” A bit more sarcasm and satire crept into his tone
than he intended, but that didn’t matter. His new partner would
learn soon enough exactly how Alex felt.

* * *

When Manuel collected his gear and climbed into Alex’s dead

black upscale SUV, he felt like he was climbing into a hearse. He
wasn’t sure if he’d be getting out again, at least not in the same

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shape he was now. Premonitions of things he did not want to see,
hear or know had the hair on the back of his neck rising like a
forest of stiff pricks. He muttered a quick prayer to the mountain
spirits and then to the saints in the church where he’d gone as a
boy.

Somebody, help me. Please. So this guy Alex has powers or

talents or something that may serve against things I don’t even
want to admit might exist. Werewolves. Demons. Vampires. Soul-
stealers. Shape-shifters…

He didn’t know whether to cross himself or hold on tight to the

medicine bag that hung around his neck, stuffed out of sight
beneath his shirt. Instead, he buckled the seat belt and tried to relax
as Alex pulled out of the parking lot and headed south toward the
stark desert and the not-too-distant border.

“Somebody shot at me the other day,” Alex said, his tone as

casual and conversational as if he’d said, “I hear the
Diamondbacks lost the game last night.”

Manuel blinked. A remembered vision danced across his mind.

He’d seen a man shot at, a man who had apparently shifted into a
raven nanoseconds before the bullet would have hit him. No. I was
seeing things. That doesn’t happen. Well, it happens to me, unless I
just dream or hallucinate it, but a bunch of them and other weird
shit? God, what am I getting into?

He had to force a noncommittal response. “Oh, yeah? I guess

they missed, huh? Any idea who it was?”

Alex shrugged. “Yeah, the guy missed all right. I wasn’t in the

wrong place when the bullet got there anyway. I’m not sure, but
he’s probably a drug runner, or a sniper sent by the cartel to get rid
of me. I’m getting a little too close to some of their routes and
maybe some of the carriers. I could almost smell them.”

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Manuel had to bite his tongue on the question he yearned to

ask.

Is that what you do—smell things, wrong things and

supernatural things and stuff?

He really didn’t want to know, but he’d probably find out soon

enough. And Alex might even find out about the hawk… That was
the scariest idea of all, at least right now.

“What are we supposed to be doing exactly?” That seemed like

a safer question. He did need to know after all. Alex wore black,
but Manuel was in his normal green military style uniform, not real
obtrusive, but still well known to anyone along the border, no
matter which side or what their purpose was for being there.
Would he feel safer in something less obvious or not?

Alex took his time answering. “All I know is what I’ve been

doing. Since I haven’t gotten any new orders, I plan to just keep on
keeping on. I explore along the border, look for things that don’t
seen right or normal, take some pictures and get the GPS
coordinates, note tracks and trash left behind, especially sniff out
anything that doesn’t seem human. If we do have werewolves
running drugs or working with drug runners, it would definitely be
something to check on.”

The fast turn almost jolted Manuel from his seat as Alex spun

the steering wheel, leaving the pavement for a two-rut track of a
road that led off into the desert. Manuel had to brace his feet on the
floor as the vehicle lurched off the side of the highway and settled
into the ruts.

“What the fuck?”
“I just got a hunch. There’s something out here we need to

check on. I don’t think I’ve been out this way before.” Alex
glanced at Manuel’s tense posture and laughed. “Relax. I’m a good

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driver. Haven’t wrecked this one yet and I’ve had it almost three
months.”

Manuel did not find much reassurance in the offhand comment.

The SUV bucked and bounced over arroyos and boulders, slithered
through sandy washes and seemed to spend almost as much time
airborne as on the ground. In his opinion, Alex drove like a
maniac. Manuel would hate to take an ATV over this route, much
less a normal vehicle. A horse or better yet, a sure-footed mule
would feel a lot more secure on such terrain, but this was not his
show. Sit down, hang on and shut up. He’d seen that on a bumper
sticker somewhere and it sure did fit.

Leaving the desert floor, they started up a narrow canyon into a

rugged range of hills. The road, if you could call it that, twisted up
and down now following the canyon floor only to angle up sharply
to get around a small cataract carved by summer floods. At times,
the SUV tilted at what Manuel was sure was at least a forty-five
degree angle. He clawed at the armrest, the dash and the center
console, leaning hard away from the tilt as if his weight might keep
all four wheels on the ground. Alex did not seem perturbed in the
least.

Is the crazy guy immortal? Is that his secret—knowing he

cannot be killed? Jesus, I can’t believe he smokes or shoots up to
get this funky attitude, but he’s scaring me shitless.

Abruptly they hit a level area where there was a kind of turn-

around spot. Alex pulled into the place, clear of the track, and
stopped. “From here we walk,” he said. “You might want to gear
up. I tend not to carry much, but for most people that’s probably
not wise.”

Alex simply slung a canteen over his shoulder and picked up a

light jacket that he hung through his belt. As far as Manuel could

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see, the other man was not armed. Manuel got his weapon, canteen
and his belt pack that held a map, a small first aid kit, a flashlight,
some matches and two extra clips for the pistol. Then he had to
hurry to catch up with Alex, who had started off up a dim hint of a
trail.

They hiked for what Manuel thought was about an hour. He

hadn’t checked his watch when they left the vehicle so he wasn’t
sure. Even though he believed he was in good shape, the path they
followed rose steeply, leading up toward a rocky peak about three
thousand feet above the desert. When the other man stopped for a
moment, Manuel welcomed the chance to catch his breath.

He had no idea what Alex expected to find. After a few deep

breaths, Manuel had to ask. “What are we looking for? Do you
know where we’re going and why?”

For a moment, he thought the other man would not answer.

Finally, Alex turned and looked at him. “If I knew, I’d tell you,” he
said. “I just get hunches. One told me to turn off the highway and
come out here, and when it didn’t look feasible to drive any
farther, I got out to walk. There’s a pull, almost a magnetic force,
drawing me—somewhere up here there’s something I need to see,
maybe we need to see. That’s all I know.”

Manuel shook his head. “Man, that’s pretty weird, but I think I

understand. Is that your talent then or whatever you were hired
for?”

“Part of it. I’m not really clairvoyant or anything. I can’t see

the future. Shit, it’s just a hunch. I don’t know what else to call it.
If you want to go back, you can, but I’m going to keep following
this track.”

With a shrug, Manuel turned to follow when Alex started on.

“They said we’re supposed to be working together. I’m here and

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I’ll keep going until something makes me stop.”

Alex did not reply. The faint trail led to a ridgeline and then

followed it upward toward a ragged line of cliffs below the crest of
the small range. When it got to the base of the cliffs, the path
turned abruptly and wound along beneath them. As they rounded a
big boulder, Alex stopped so abruptly Manuel almost ran into him.

He edged to one side to see around the taller man. They were

looking into a cave or a mine adit, a narrow, horizontal tunnel
diving back into the cliff. The dim trace went straight into the dark
maw. A draft of cool air came out, air holding a faint scent of
moisture and decay. The subtle taint of foulness seemed more
repulsive than a rotting carcass, more dangerous than a pointed
gun.

Manuel’s gut clenched in anticipation. “We have to go in there,

don’t we?”

Alex shrugged one shoulder. “We should. Would you happen

to have a flashlight in your gear? I don’t relish the idea of going in
there blind.”

Manuel rummaged in the belt pack and came out with a small,

powerful light. He handed it over. “Unless you want me to go
first…”

“Up to you. I can, will. I still feel the pull.”
Alex took the light, turned it on, and started ahead. Manuel

could have refused to follow, but his pride and honor would not
permit it. However crazy this new partner of his was, he felt an
obligation to back him up. He’d taken an oath. The government
paid him to do this work, whatever it took. If duty meant
confronting some nebulous evil that stank, so be it.

About a hundred yards in from the opening, the narrow tunnel

forked. Again, Manuel jolted to a stop when Alex halted. After a

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moment, Alex chose the left fork and started off again. Before they
went far, Manuel realized the slight drift of air seemed to come
from this way. The peculiar odor got stronger, musky now with a
hint of stagnant water and a scent similar to that given off by a den
of snakes. Alien, forbidding and yet oddly compelling, too.

Beneath their feet, the floor of the cave seemed strangely

smooth. Manuel decided if it was natural, someone had worked to
clean and enlarge the passage, almost like a mine tunnel had been
dug into a hill and maybe prepared for laying a track or driving
machines on the floor.

A peculiar vision flashed across his mind, a memory of a story

he’d read back in grade school. The tale had described the lair of a
dragon where fabulous wealth was hidden and guarded by a huge,
scaled reptilian creature, who breathed fire on anyone foolish
enough to challenge his domain.

A chill danced along his spine. There’s no such thing as a

dragon. It’s just a stupid fairy tale for kids. If there’s anything in
here, it’s probably human made, a stash of drugs or weapons,
maybe a dead body or two. I can deal with that.

Alex’s soft exhalation alerted Manuel this time before the other

man stopped. Again, he edged to the side and looked past his
partner, not sure what he would see. A larger room or niche lay
before them, carved out of the limestone. For a moment, Manuel
could not identify any of the objects littering the floor.

Then as Alex shone the light in careful sweeps, identifiable

things began to emerge from the hodgepodge. There was a bundle
of gray, rumpled fur, either the hide of a large animal or several
smaller ones. A half-dozen boxes packed with bags of white
powder. Another box holding a jumble of handguns and
ammunition. A desiccated shrunken form that, at first, looked more

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like a crude marionette or woodcarving, but had to be a long-dead
body, mummified by the desert air. Yet here in the cave it still felt
moist.

This is not making sense.
All at once, the fur moved, gathered itself and lifted from the

ground as it shook into a shape. It was a wolf shape and displayed
a pair of fierce eyes reflecting opalescent green and scarlet in the
beam of the flashlight and a gaping mouth with an inordinate
number of sharp, gleaming white teeth. The creature snarled, a
raspy, chilling sound like a file scraping across rusty metal. The
body bunched, tensed, crouched and coiled to leap.

Manuel edged back a half step, operating purely on instinct. He

drew his handgun at the same instant the wolf leaped. Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw a shimming flicker of light where Alex
had stood and then a blurred flash of motion. The wolf erupted, but
there was nothing to absorb its lunge. The animal struggled, trying
to stop. It slowed mid-leap, stilled just long enough for Manuel to
take aim and fire. He kept pulling the trigger until he emptied the
clip.

Before he had stopped shooting, the wolf shape faded. Once

again, there was just a tumbled pile of fur on the ground a few feet
from him. Before he could be sure what he had seen—or if he had
seen anything at all—there was Alex back, right where he had been
standing.

“That was interesting,” Alex said. He kicked the fur with one

toe. It was as lifeless and empty as a rug, simply a skin apparently
tanned with the fur on. When Alex’s kick turned part of it over, the
skin revealed several holes where the bullets from Manuel’s 9mm
had pierced the hide.

Manuel caught Alex’s sidelong glance. The taller man smiled,

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but it was not a pleasant smile. Still his tone was mild. “Nice fast
work there, even if perhaps not necessary. What do you think:
illusion, hallucination or a hologram?”

Only then did Manuel realize he was shaking like an aspen in a

gale. When he spoke, it came out defiant, angry, almost a
challenge. He ignored Alex’s question to ask his own obliquely.
“You shifted. I saw you, only I didn’t, but you were there and then
you weren’t.”

Alex shrugged. “Guilty as charged. When I saw the wolf jump,

I reacted without thinking. Whether it was an illusion or not, I
wasn’t going to get my throat ripped out. I—moved.”

Manuel shook his head. “No, you shifted. You turned into

something else for a few seconds. I think it was a large bird.”

“You saw what you wanted to see or maybe feared to see. Just

like a hide that turned into a wolf. What’s real here is several kilos
of coke and about twenty guns.”

“And a mummy or an ancient corpse?”
Alex moved the light to where the humanoid form had been.

There was nothing there now at all. “Another false image. No le
hace.” The border Spanish slang for “no matter” tripped easily off
his tongue.

He glanced around the space for a moment. “I’m not sure we

can carry all this stuff, but we need to try. We don’t want to leave
it for whoever is supposed to come after it.”

Manuel took a moment to reload his pistol before he picked up

the box of guns. It was not too heavy, maybe forty pounds or so.
There was some room left so he piled a bunch of the baggies on
top of the weapons. Alex reached into a pocket of his black
trousers and took out a folded clump of cloth. He shook it out to
reveal a black nylon daypack. Kneeling, he began to stuff the bags

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of cocaine into it. Between them, they managed to get it all.

Now we’ve got to get back down to the car with this shit. Still

shaken, Manuel didn’t relish the prospect of running into whoever
had stowed the contraband in the cave and arranged the eerie and
unpleasant surprises, but there were no other options. Maybe…no,
he couldn’t even try to think about what he’d seen or imagined. It
was just too mind-boggling to deal with. Real live bad guys were
much less intimidating.

He hoisted the box onto his shoulder and started out of the cave

on Alex’s heels. All at once he was damned glad not to be alone,
whatever Alex had done back there when the illusory wolf leaped.
Still things began to slide into place like odd pieces of a puzzle as
he followed the taller man back down the trail. Though pretty
fucking weird, this new partner of his was one interesting man.

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CHAPTER 3

Alex set a brisk pace as they headed back to the vehicle, even

though both Manuel and he were at a slight disadvantage,
burdened as they were with the loot from the cave. He had no way
to know when the owners or their couriers would arrive to collect
the stuff. And he did not want to meet them on the steep trail if he
could help it. Manuel clattered behind him, clearly tiring and off-
balance because of the box on his shoulder.

So far the other man had shown more determination and

presence of mind than Alex had expected. He still preferred to
work alone, but at least the Indian was the best partner he’d
suffered so far. Maybe there could be some benefits to working as
a team. The novel thought felt strange in his awareness.

I shouldn’t have shifted when I did, there in the cave. I knew

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the wolf was an illusion, but it looked and felt real enough to trick
me for an instant, just long enough to let my control slip. It was too
dark for him to see anything, but he sensed it. Mistake on my part.
I could touch his mind and wipe out that incomplete memory, but
I’d rather not

He rounded the final bend in the path before it dropped down a

steep incline to the end of the road. This one spot overlooked the
area where the SUV waited. The sight he saw was not what he had
hoped for. Four men lounged against the vehicle, all wearing black
and all well armed. They talked among themselves, joking and
clearly not too concerned.

If they knew who owned the black SUV, they didn’t act like it.

Alex was not sure whether to be relieved or a bit piqued to see his
fame was less than he had thought. He figured by now everyone
along the border knew the dark hunter. Criminal hooligans such as
these men should be at least a bit worried. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t
had run-ins with a few of them in recent weeks.

He held out a hand to signal Manuel to halt. The other man

stopped a long stride behind him. Without thinking, Alex sent the
thought to his partner. ::They’re waiting for us. I figured as much,
but I’d hoped I was wrong.::

Surprise jolted through him when the Indian’s silent words

came in quick response. ::I was expecting it, too. There’s a chunk
of change in this shit. What do we do now?::

::Set the stuff down. We’ll circle around to approach them from

another angle, not by the trail. If we win, we can come back and
get it. And if we don’t—it won’t matter much.::

Damn, so he’s telepathic, Alex mused. Didn’t know that. But I

bet there’s more to his wild talents. I’ll learn in time. Alex set that
thought aside; it wasn’t critical for the moment.

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As quietly as they could, they stacked the drugs and arms

behind some bushes and then headed off along the steep slope at an
oblique angle to the trail. Winding downward, they kept to the
cover of thick undergrowth to stay hidden as long as they could.
Manuel made no noise now, moving with the silent skill Alex
expected from a native of the region.

Alex could walk without any hint of sound when he needed to,

almost as if he did not touch the ground. They crept along until
they were about a hundred yards away from the vehicle and the
four waiting men.

They could hear the four clearly now, speaking Spanish as well

as English and a few words that did not seem to be in either
language. Alex suspected one of them might be from the Middle
East. Such desert men could pass for Mexican or Indian to a
superficial viewer.

::Wait here. I’m going to approach from the far side of the

truck and see how close I can get. You be ready to back me up.
With surprise on our side, we may be able to take them without a
fight.::

::Wait, you’re not armed.::
Alex shook his head. ::Oh, yes, I am.:: He drew two sleek dark

knives from hidden sheaths strapped to his lower legs. ::These
talons are very effective at close range and also silent.::

He started down the hill, concentrating on making himself as

soundless and nearly invisible as possible. It was a mental trick,
but it usually worked. He visualized himself a mere shadow,
slipping over the ground without a sound, hovering, floating,
drifting.

At the preplanned instant, he deliberately kicked a small rock.

It rolled away from him, shockingly loud in a moment of sudden

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hush. Perhaps the four men had sensed something despite Alex’s
stealthy approach. Two of the drug runners scrambled around the
car, scanning the hillside frantically. The first of Alex’s knives
caught one in the right shoulder, stopping his reach for the pistol at
his hip.

The second man whirled to look at his comrade in a moment’s

inattention that allowed Alex to cross the last few feet and grab
him. The other two men came around the vehicle then, both
reaching for their weapons. Manuel’s pistol spoke once and then
again.

After that, everything happened in warp speed. One of the

second pair went down, clutching at the blood erupting from his
chest through the 9mm holes. The other, apparently unwounded,
blurred into a gray fog and emerged four-footed, shining fangs
displayed in a vicious snarl.

The werewolf launched itself at Alex, just as the man he had

grabbed jerked free and also began to change. In a single combined
motion, Alex turned, plunged his second knife into the first
werewolf’s body mid-leap, and then, as the second came at him,
Alex, now weaponless, launched himself into the air, fighting clear
of the snapping jaws of the second werewolf. He beat his wings
desperately to gain enough altitude for safety, beyond the height
the wolf could jump. Once he gained some fifteen feet off the
ground he hovered on a slight updraft that wafted up the canyon.

This gave him a clear view of the whole scene. Manuel charged

down the hill, gun ready, firing twice more at the unwounded wolf
and the man trying to pull Alex’s knife out of his right shoulder.
The first werewolf was down, bleeding steadily around the
protruding haft of the knife sunk deep into his chest. His breath
bubbled, pink froth steaming from his nostrils as he thrashed in

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futile rage, unable to shift back to human form in his injured state.

The man Manuel had shot was dead or dying, sprawled in an

awkward angular heap about ten feet from the vehicle.

Two down and two to go, one unwounded wolf and one

wounded man. The unhurt wolf leaped in vain, frustrated by Alex’s
sudden soaring out of reach. The first man Alex had subdued
finally dragged the knife free of his chest, but as it came out of his
body, blood erupted from the wound. He staggered, staring in
disbelief, first at the knife in his left hand and then the scarlet spray
shooting out of his wound. He sat, suddenly and hard, as if his legs
had melted beneath him.

That left the one wolf. Manuel fired at it twice, but the wolf

seemed to be impervious to the bullets. A puff of fur flew but the
wolf continued to jump and snap, snarling in rage.

::Don’t waste your shots. I’m pretty sure regular bullets can’t

harm him in this form, but if I can get one of my knives, it will.
They’re not normal steel.::

The first wolf gave a final rattle and a twitching spasm. Then in

the last seconds of life, it began to morph back into human form,
dead before the change quite completed. His face still held a
wolfish cast—almost but not quite human.

::What should I do then?::
Alex really could not explain. ::I’ll shift back. We need to stop

the bleeding or the man I stabbed will die. I’d like to have at least
one alive to talk.::

He settled to the ground and changed back, ignoring the wolf.

The beast backed away as if unsure what to do next. Alex picked
up his knife the first man had dropped and gestured in the wolf’s
direction. He muttered a few words in a long-dead language, words
learned from his grandfather. At that command, the wolf morphed

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back to human form at once. The man stood, wary and fearful,
making no effort to reach for a weapon.

“What the fuck are you?” he asked finally. “You’re not like

us…not like anything I ever saw.”

“I’m Morrigan-Kin,” Alex replied. “Battle-Raven, heir to a

long line of shifters with powers far beyond your feeble gift.
Someone changed you, but they didn’t give you anything except
the basic shifting power. It isn’t enough. You’re locked into man-
form now until I say otherwise. If you cooperate, I may not kill
you.

“Manuel, toss me your first aid kit,” Alex said, still keeping his

attention on the two men, the wounded and the other one.
Rummaging in Manuel’s compact case, Alex found the supplies he
required to make a compress for the wounded man’s shoulder. He
was not sure it would staunch the bleeding long enough to get the
drug runner to the hospital, but it was all he could do for now.

While Alex worked on the wounded man, Manuel handcuffed

the other one. Then, leaving Manuel to stand guard, Alex went
back up the hill twice, collecting all the guns and drugs. They
loaded the two dead men and the captured loot in the back, settled
the wounded man and the other in the middle, and started back to
town. They’d have some explaining to do when they got there, but
Alex was used to that.

Alex wondered aloud how the four had reached the end of the

road.

“We walked from the bottom,” the unwounded man said, in a

sullen tone. “We’re supposed to meet our boss later this afternoon
on the west side of the hills. He’ll know something is wrong when
we don’t show and prob’ly figure things out and come after you.
He’s one smart coyote.”

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Alex didn’t bother to respond. They could work on extracting

information later.

Manuel remained very quiet all the way back. He held his

pistol in his lap and kept an eye on the two men in the seat behind
them, but neither of them seemed ready to try anything. The
wounded man appeared to be unconscious, slumping against the
other. Handcuffed, the hale prisoner could barely brace himself to
stay in the seat as the SUV bounced and lurched down the
mountain and back across the desert to the highway.

“I hope you’ve got a good story ready,” Manuel finally said as

they pulled into the station yard a long hour later. “We’ve got two
dead, one badly wounded, and one healthy prisoner. Wallace is
going to go ballistic.”

“If he can’t deal with it, I’ll call Chiles,” Alex replied. “We

really don’t report to Wallace now, and Clayton’s used to my
methods. We just did what we’re supposed to do, though. If our
prisoner will cooperate, we might get enough information to work
our way up to the next level in this particular cartel and find out
exactly what’s going on in this new union of drug dealers and real
alien invaders.”

* * *

Manuel could not believe how quickly and quietly Alex

managed to take care of the whole thing. The two dead were
whisked away in a hearse, the wounded man was taken by
helicopter to Tucson and the remaining prisoner went off to the
local substation of the county jail. Wallace had very little to say.
Alex did call Chiles and gave him a terse report, promising a
written follow-up later. Manuel stood by, feeling useless, although

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he heard Alex speak well of him to their new boss.

When he had everything under control, Alex turned to him with

a tight smile. “Hungry? I might try one of those burro things you
had this morning now that it’s well past midday. I’m kind of
traditional about breakfast, but after that, I’m game to experiment.”

Manuel’s stomach had still not settled enough to relish food,

but he figured he’d have to eat sooner or later. Maybe it would
help—something familiar and ordinary, a meal that for him would
be comfort food. He shrugged. “Sure, if you want to. Let’s just
walk across the street.”

Alex opened the door and then fell into step beside him. A

strange awareness shot through Manuel as they matched strides,
walking side by side across the dust-filmed pavement.

Partners. Friends. Companions. Not just today, but into the

future. Maybe sometimes flying together… He jerked his thoughts
up short, jolted by even imagining such things. No! I don’t know
enough to even start in that direction!

“No use pretending now,” Manuel said after a moment. “This

last time I saw it, the whole thing. You became a raven and then
changed back into yourself again. You can’t deny it. I watched
you.”

Alex twitched one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Okay, you saw

it—or think you saw it. I’m not admitting or denying. You can
believe whatever you want.”

“What if I was to tell you I can do it, too?” Aghast, Manuel

stopped midstride, almost mid-word. What the fuck am I doing—
all but telling him?

Alex also stopped despite the fact they were in the middle of

the street. There wasn’t much traffic anyway, so they were in no
danger of being hit. “Can you?”

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Manuel looked up into the other man’s face and saw something

in the pale, cold eyes that he had not seen before, a brightness, but
also a softening, a crack in the impervious ice wall that seemed to
stand just beyond the grey steady gaze. He nodded, for the moment
unable to speak.

Incredibly, Alex smiled, a real smile that softened his austere

face and even touched his eyes. “That’s why then. I have no idea
how Chiles knew, but he must have. Liam and Rhys have a past, a
life they shared centuries ago that makes them a team, one unit of
two bodies. Now there’s a reason for us to be put together—the
bird-men. Crazy! Can you shift when you want to?”

Again, Manuel nodded. “I found out about it when I was a kid,

about twelve. I changed to keep from falling, probably to my
death. I’ve never told anyone, though, so how could they know?
That guy Chiles, how could he guess?”

Alex shrugged again. “He just knows things. Maybe that’s his

power. He doesn’t say much, and I figure he has something hidden,
something he wouldn’t share with anyone, but he believes and
accepts the ones of us who’re different. He even seeks us out for
this new unit that seems to be his brain child.”

He stared off into space for a moment, making Manuel wonder

what he was thinking before he went on. “Chiles has an uncanny
way of knowing stuff. He must’ve gotten some hint about you, but
I have no idea how. He’ll keep your secret, though. He’s never
outed anyone that I know of and he’s got about two dozen agents
now. Most of us have no idea what anyone else’s gift is unless it
comes out in some action that we witness; we don’t ask and we
don’t discuss it. Your secret’s safe with me, too, in case you were
worried.”

He grinned then, a little boy grin. “What’s your other form?”

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“Red-tailed hawk.”
“It was you then, the day that sniper fired at me.”
Manuel could only nod once more. “Yeah, it was me. I had to

see you up close, trying to accept what I’d witnessed. I wanted to
say something, but how could I?”

“You can think it just like we did today. I’m pretty sure our

mental capacity is the same no matter what form we’re in. We can
check, but I’d bet telepathy will work regardless.”

Then, as if by mutual agreement, they segued into totally

mundane topics as they went into the café. They made their way to
the same booth they’d chosen that morning. For an instant, Manuel
had the crazy idea he should order oatmeal just to see how Alex
would react, but he wasn’t sure he could choke it down. He got the
enchilada plate instead, and Alex ordered the same thing.

This time no awkward tension or restraint hovered over them.

Manuel could almost imagine he was eating with a buddy, one of
the guys he’d patrolled with the past year or another Rez kid he’d
known in school, one who’d gone into a different line of work. If
possible, he felt even more comfortable than he’d be in either of
those cases.

Whoa, this is changing too fast. This guy is still an unknown

quantity. He may be a shifter, too, but that doesn’t make him my
new best friend. Still, despite these misgivings, Manuel didn’t
dread the next day nearly as much as he had the first one. Not even
with all the weird shit that had gone down during the past few
hours.

* * *

Watching his new partner eat, Alex recognized Manuel had

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begun to relax. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not. Maybe I
shouldn’t let him get too comfortable. I still don’t plan to make a
lifetime partnership out of this, perish the thought. However, as he
wolfed down the spicy enchiladas, an unexpected ease stole over
him, too.

The past three years he’d begun to like Mexican food, at least

the Sonora-style dishes served along the Arizona and New Mexico
borders. He still wanted his oats for breakfast and would have
taken herring, boiled eggs and a nip of Scotch if he could have
obtained them, but for lunch and dinner, the local cuisine was fine.

I think I’m starting to change, maybe even fit in. Now that’s

something I never expected. Will the renegade Scots warlock
become some kind of cowboy-chicano reborn native? That’s one
for the record book!

Manuel swabbed up the last dab of green chili sauce with a

tortilla scrap and belched. “Oops. Sorry about that. Damn green
chilies will do it to me every time. Anyway, what’s on the agenda
for tomorrow? Any hunches yet?”

Alex shook his head. “Don’t get them that far in advance. Just

have to wait and see. For now, I guess you head home, and I go
back to my room over at the Desert View Motel. Place is a dump,
but I’ve been in worse.”

Manuel shrugged and when he spoke, his tone was almost

apologetic. “I live at home with my parents or I’d invite you over.
Dad has diabetes real bad. They had to take his left foot about six
months ago and now the right one is getting sores that won’t heal.
Mom is scared to death. I gotta be there for them as long as I can.
There’s nobody else. My sister married a Choctaw from Oklahoma
and went back there with him, and our older brother was killed in a
wreck when he was eighteen, so I’m all they’ve got now.”

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“I understand about family,” Alex said. “There’s just my

mother left. She went back to Scotland after she and Dad split,
years ago. He was American, in the military when they met. She
never did feel like the US was home, so I grew up outside of
Glasgow either with or close to her parents. I go visit when I can,
but she’s got sisters and a brother and they’re close as cockleburs
in a cow’s tail. She doesn’t need me. And to the rest, I’m just that
damned Yankee’s kid.”

Manuel grabbed the checks this time before Alex realized what

he was going to do. “You got it this morning, so this one’s on me.
Wanna meet here tomorrow?”

Alex shrugged. “Sure, why not? I expect we’d better check in

at the station before we head out, though, just to see if anything
new has come up.”

They walked back across the street to get their cars, and as he

watched Manuel drive off in the old pickup, he felt a vague ache
somewhere deep in his chest. After a moment, he identified it as
loneliness.

That’s a new one. I’m the loner, the flies-by-himself solitary

raven. When did I start to need any fucking company? Get a grip,
Macalister.

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CHAPTER 4

For the next three days, Manuel and Alex passed their shifts

with nothing but routine patrol work. No new caches of drugs or
arms, no werewolves, no one even shooting at them. In a word,
boring. But, as Manuel already knew, the life of any law
enforcement officer went that way: long, dull hours interspersed
with frantic periods of hectic action. The trick was not to let your
guard down and fail to be alert at a critical time.

He couldn’t say yet that he and Alex were friends or even

completely at ease with one another, but things were getting better.
Alex was one close-mouthed guy, though. Manuel had learned
little aside from the facts he was born in the States, but had spent
most of his childhood and youth in Scotland with his mother’s
family after his parents divorced. Beyond that, he knew damned

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little. Why Alex had chosen to come back to the US he still did not
know and neither did he know why the tall dark man had taken a
post with the border patrol.

Manuel felt he’d talked way too much. Things tended to come

pouring out, stuff he normally would not share with anyone. He
wasn’t quite sure why except for his new knowledge that he was
not the only person in the world who could shape-shift into a bird.
He’d seen Alex do it several times now and, even though the other
man had not actually admitted it in so many words, Manual felt
sure he had not been misled by a trick or an optical illusion.
Somehow, that made Alex someone he could talk to. Often he was
not even sure if his partner was listening, but he talked on anyway.

The fourth afternoon found them following a scarcely visible

track across the desert south of the old mining town of Ajo. This
was off the reservation in part of the Organ Pipe Cactus National
Monument, some of the starkest and most desolate terrain of the
border region. As usual, Alex drove the black SUV, his attention
seemingly fixed on the distant horizon as if the vehicle would drive
itself.

Manuel had resigned himself to rough travel, but had begun to

realize Alex was a good driver, just not a cautious one. The big
four-wheel drive could growl along at a few miles per hour and
navigate places where no sane person would dare take a vehicle.
Some of Alex’s peculiar magic seemed to infuse his choice of
wheels. Manuel’s old pickup had seen some hard miles and rugged
terrain, but he’d never take it where Alex went seemingly without
concern.

At the moment, he fought against dozing off. For late

September, the afternoon had turned very warm, probably hot to
anyone not used to the desert. Once the sun set it would get chilly

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fast, but with the strong beams beating down on the flat black roof
over their heads, the car felt like a sauna. When Alex stomped on
the brake, Manuel jolted against his seat belt and his neck cracked
with the force.

“Wha…what the fuck are you doing?”
“Saw something.” Alex’s reply sounded vague because he was

leaning out the window and staring down an arroyo they had come
about two thirds of the way across.

Manuel tried to look past Alex, but he couldn’t see anything.
“Damn big coyote,” Alex muttered. “And not quite the right

color either.”

He jerked the key out of the ignition, opened the door and

stepped out. “Are you coming? I want to check this out.”

Manuel grabbed his gear and hustled to catch up as the other

man was already striding away. When he did catch up, it only
happened because Alex had stopped, kneeling to examine fresh
tracks in a patch of silty soil laid down by the summer flash floods.
The normal sand did not hold tracks well, but this spot did. They
were canine looking prints, but big ones, near the size of Manuel’s
open hand when he held it down above one. If a coyote had left
those tracks, he was a giant among his species. Manuel didn’t think
it was a coyote.

Alex didn’t either. He glanced up, his brow furrowed in a

frown. “Ever see a coyote with paws that size?”

Manuel shook his head. “Nope. Maybe I lied when I said there

were no wolves in southern Arizona. I don’t even think the red
desert wolves from Mexico are that size, though. That track is
bigger than a Rottie, than a freakin’ Mastiff. Jeezus! Why do you
think we need to follow some critter just ’cause it has plate-sized
paws?”

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Alex rose, staring down the arroyo, which made a sharp bend

about a hundred yards from where they stood. He twitched one
shoulder in his habitual half shrug. “I don’t know. We aren’t game
and fish guys, are we? Even though it’s out of our bailiwick, I’m
curious…”

“One of those hunches?”
Another shrug, this one of irritation. “Dunno. No. Well, maybe

a bit.”

“Guess we can follow it a ways and see what we find.”
Alex started off with Manuel close at his heels. The clear tracks

soon faded as the arroyo bottom went back to sand, but there were
still indentations, fresh enough to follow. They walked for maybe
three-quarters of a mile, still pursuing the faint marks.

Manuel began to think it was pointless when Alex halted

suddenly and took a couple of steps sideways, closer to the now
steep side of the narrowing channel. That’s when the distinctive
click of someone cocking a firearm jolted Manuel’s awareness.
The sound seemed to come from a jumble of large boulders that
looked like they’d been dumped there by some long-gone
earthmover because there was nothing similar anywhere around. It
was mostly sand and some clay, with a few much smaller stones
mixed in.

Alex pressed closer to the dubious shelter of the near vertical

cut bank, and Manuel wedged himself into the same slight niche.
He held his breath, waiting for the crack of the shot and the whine
of a bullet—if he heard the second sound it had passed them. Eerie
as the bullet sound was it beat the hell out of that sullen thud of
lead impacting flesh. He’d heard that a few times, too. Not good.

Instead of a shot, a silent command echoed in their minds.

::Turn around and go back. There’s nothing here that concerns

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you. The wolf is gone and you will not find it. Go back while you
can, while we are willing to let you.::

Manuel heard Alex draw a slow breath. He was holding his. He

let it out and gulped in another of hot, dry air. How could a
soundless voice feel so cold, so downright evil? There was no
emotion in the message, nothing even remotely human and yet
there were words, a direct order.

Almost without thought, Manuel caught himself sliding back,

starting to turn around. There was that much compulsion in the
telepathic contact. Alex reached to grab his arm. “No, wait.”
Though not mind-speech, his words held only the barest trace of
sound, even less than a whisper.

“Who are you?” This time Alex spoke aloud, directing his

words and his attention toward the heaped stones. “Come out and
show yourself.”

::Oh no, you don’t want that. You do not want to see me. Have

you heard of the Medusa or the two-faced, serpent-haired witch? I
am being kind—do not press your dubious luck, dark hunter. To
see me as I really am is to die.::

“A mythical creature with an automatic rifle? Now that’s one

for the storybooks. How do we get anyone to believe us?”

The laugh was not silent. It grated like nails on the blackboard

or a key dragged along the side of a car. Metallic, harsh, almost
painful to hear. “There is much you do not know, dark hunter.
Even if you take wing, you cannot escape unless I choose to let
you go. Do you really want to tell anyone? What would be the
point?”

Manuel could feel Alex’s tension, sense the other man was torn

between curiosity and discretion, hesitating over a choice.

“What are you doing here? What in this empty desert can be of

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any use to you if you are such a powerful being?”

“You ask too many questions. I am getting tired of this. Go. Go

or die. That’s the choice you have.”

“Come on,” Manuel whispered, fear suddenly springing to life

in his belly like a dump of ice slivers, sharp and cold. “We’re not
going to win this one. I don’t know what this fucking thing is, but I
don’t think I want to find out.”

Still Alex waited a few more seconds. Finally, he turned and

started back the way they had come, without another word. Manuel
stumbled beside him, driven by the urgency to get as far from that
weird sensation as fast as he could. Whatever it was, he didn’t
want to know, at least not right now. As they rounded the last bend
before they reached the spot they’d left the car, the prickly “unseen
eyes watching me” feeling finally faded. But he didn’t get to enjoy
the relief nearly long enough.

They walked side by side, slogging through the sand in the

bottom of the steep-sided wash. Manuel’s attention still centered
on the spooky feeling of something behind them. It took a few
seconds before the sight in front of them soaked in.

“Holy fucking shit!”
Alex didn’t say anything, but he stopped perhaps a split second

before Manuel did. Three men, or at least man-looking beings,
again lounged against the black SUV. More of the same kind of
guys they’d seen on the hill below the cached cave. These wore
gray camo fatigues and held rifles, powerful sniper rifles by the
look of the scopes they bore. But this group had reinforcements.

Two creatures lay on the ground, an arm’s length in front of the

men. Their bodies looked to be those of large cats, outsized
cougars or maybe even jaguars. Attached to those powerful tawny
furred forms were mismatched heads, which looked basically

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simian, like someone had Photoshopped the heads of gorillas onto
huge feline bodies. To cap things off, leathery wings folded against
their sides, wings such as you might see on a bat, a really big bat.

::I don’t think shifting will help much this time. I’d lay a bet

those misbegotten pets can fly.::

Even without a sound, Alex’s words carried a hint of his usual

dry humor. Manuel could not see anything remotely amusing about
the hideous creatures who now watched them keenly. He could
almost see them licking their lips as they bunched their massive
muscles to launch an attack.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, we’re in for it now.”
About that time the three men also noticed them. “Come on

over,” the middle one called. “We’ve been waiting for you. El Jefe
Grande told us you’d be coming back soon.”

::What do we do, partner?:: Manuel felt like he’d been turned

to stone, but his legs were closer to jelly.

::For now, exactly what they say to do. I need some time to

figure out what their weakness may be.::

Manuel snorted silently. ::As if they have one.::
::Everyone has a weakness. Sometimes they’re hard to

discover, but they always exist. You just have to look the right
way.::

“Don’t bother with your weapons. You’re covered and before

you could get a shot off, one of us would mow you down. Just
come on over, slow and easy, and no one will get hurt—yet.”

It took every ounce of courage and strength Manuel could

summon, but he walked steadily and didn’t piss himself. He
figured he was doing pretty good to accomplish that much.

For all the emotion Alex displayed, he could have been

strolling in the city park or ending a pleasant leisurely hike.

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Manuel had no idea how the other man kept his cool, but he had to
admire it anyway.

When they were about ten feet from the group, one of the

animals stood, the tip of its tail twitching in small, fretful jerks.
The man in the middle handed his rifle to the man on his left and
took two steps, then another, which put him close enough to reach
out and touch either Manuel or Alex. He had a dark, pockmarked
face, flat-black eyes, and a thin moustache slashing across his face
beneath a beaky nose.

“Hand over your guns, slow and easy, no funny shit. Pancho

and Puerco could have you both down in a heartbeat, if Xaczyl and
Xenil didn’t get to you first. They will not allow anyone to touch
me.”

Feeling like he was gagging on his heart where it lodged just

beneath his Adam’s apple, Manuel slid his 9mm out of the holster,
turned it slowly in his hand, and extended it butt first.

“I never carry a firearm,” Alex said.
The man’s opaque eyes flicked to him and then back to Manuel

as he took Manuel’s pistol. “Is he telling the truth?”

Manuel shrugged. “Far as I know. I’ve never seen a gun on

him. Says he doesn’t need one.”

I don’t dare even think about the knives. He didn’t know for

sure, but suspected Alex had the sheaths strapped to his lower
calves as usual with the covered blades tucked neatly inside the
tops of his boots. Manuel tried to fix his mind on everything else
besides sleek, deadly slivers of lethal metal. If Alex figured he
could get by with keeping them that was his business. They might
come in handy later, after the tall Scot figured out what their
captors’ weakness was.

Everything inside screamed for him to take wing and throw

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himself into the sky, but he sensed that would be giving death a
gilt-edged invitation. He’d be damned lucky to dodge the bullets
and those misbegotten creatures could probably out-fly him on a
bad day. Talk about getting into deep shit…

Before anything else happened, Manuel heard the distinct

sound of a helicopter. Within a minute or two, it came into view,
skimming low over the rolling desert floor. It settled on the road
about twenty yards behind the SUV where the ground was packed
a bit harder and the rotor only stirred up a small sandstorm. With a
jerk of his head, the apparent leader directed them toward the
aircraft.

Before they reached it, a door opened in the side facing them

and a short ramp extended. The craft looked small, but when they
climbed in, they saw it held a half dozen seats in the main section
behind the pilot’s cockpit area.

As soon as they sat down and their chief captor climbed

aboard, the chopper lifted off. Alex glanced back at his car, and the
two men and two animals still beside it.

“Not to worry, dark hunter. Pancho will bring your vehicle. We

wouldn’t want anyone to find it too soon. When it’s time, we’ll
leave it in a strategic place, maybe with your bodies inside.”

“I’ve got the keys in my pocket.” Alex replied, his tone mild

and conversational.

The other man laughed. “Pancho’s a border Mexican. Do you

imagine he doesn’t know how to hotwire a car? Come, you are not
that naïve!”

* * *

Alex felt sure they crossed the border, although they seemed to

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take a circuitous route. Finally, the chopper flew up a canyon that
cut deep into a higher range of mountains. At one point, the canyon
widened into a small vale. That’s where they landed.

A couple of burly men with AK-47s met the aircraft. “Patron,”

one said, “what are we to do with the Yankee dogs?”

“I’m no yanqui.” Manuel’s voice was not much more than a

growl. “I’m Tohono O’odham.”

“And I’m Scots,” Alex added.
“Callete, you piece of filth.” One of the guards stuck out a foot

as Alex stepped out of the craft. He managed not to fall, but it was
a close thing.

The man addressed as Patron climbed down behind them. He

gave a careless shrug. “Put them in the chicken house,” he said,
speaking in Spanish. “That’s a fitting place for their kind.”

A few forceful nudges with the rifle barrels pointed Alex and

Manuel in the correct direction. The chicken house turned out to be
a rough adobe hut with mesh wire over the windows and doors.

Fuck! Either they have an idea we can shift into birds or they

are really trying to be insulting. Maybe both.

Their escort shoved them inside, then closed and locked the

door with a heavy chain and a rusty, ancient-looking padlock. If he
could have reached the lock, Alex could probably have picked it.
Old it as appeared, it probably had no more than three tumblers,
but he couldn’t fit his hands through the wire or the thin crack
between the doorframe and the wall.

Darkness fell soon, and they were left alone, without food or

water. Manuel sank to the floor, his back to the wall. “What now,
partner? I don’t think we can get out of here even if we shifted.”

Alex paced the small space, stooping because the roof was too

low for him to stand upright. It was damned uncomfortable. He

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was thirsty, too. “I have an idea,” he said finally. “Did you ever try
to shift into anything besides your hawk?”

“Nope. I didn’t think I could. I know how the hawk feels and I

just think of that and let the change come. Do you mean a person
can go into more than one form?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t tried, but my grandfather said you

could if you had enough will and power to force it. Right now, I’m
thinking something small, small enough to squeeze through one of
those holes in the wire. Like maybe a mouse. I’d just need to hold
it long enough to get outside.”

He was just about ready to try when the sound of footsteps

alerted them to someone’s approach. “Shit, I hope they’re going to
feed us.”

“But not shit,” Manuel added.
Alex grinned, glad the other man still held to some sense of

humor. It always helped if you could make light of hardships.

The two men who stopped and unlocked the door proved to be

the ones who’d been backing Patron in the desert. One still carried
an assault rifle and one of their unpleasant pets stalked beside
them.

“Vengate, perros,” one said. The man used the rude form of the

verb to come and called them dogs.

Although he recognized the insult, Alex obeyed the gesture to

emerge from the hut. Manuel followed him. He thought it was the
one called Pedro who spoke; the other man held the rifle.

“Did you get my vehicle here safely?”
“Callete, no questions.” The man almost growled the words,

clearly in no mood to be forthcoming. The other poked Alex in the
back with the rifle.

He started forward, walking slowly, as if he could not see in the

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dark. He could, better than most, but there was no use giving any
secrets away. Manual kept pace, as if he’d caught on. Their guards
directed them across the meadow where the chopper had landed to
a big house, almost a fortress, built against the hill on the far side.
Alex noted the helicopter no longer sat on the grass.

Once inside they walked down a wide hall around one corner

and then turned right into a large room that appeared to be an
office. The one the other men called Patron stood at the side of a
massive desk. Behind the desk, an enormously fat, swarthy man sat
in the largest desk chair Alex had ever seen.

He judged the desk was made of teak and inlaid with ebony and

other rare woods of various colors in intricate patterns, which
reminded him of some of the art in the Middle East, geometric
stylized flowers and trees. A true work of art, the massive piece of
furniture probably weighed hundreds of pounds and cost a small
fortune. It held an array of high tech communication equipment.
Patron fiddled with a couple of consoles, while the obese man
looked on, an expression mixing boredom and impatience on his
wide face.

The big man, clearly the overlord of the bunch, turned to

glower as Alex and Manuel approached. Their two guards stayed
behind them, almost kowtowing as they drew nearer to the desk.
They’d left the mismatched animal out in the hall.

Patron turned then and nodded at his two henchmen. “You can

go. I’ll be responsible now. Wait outside the door.”

Alex stood calmly, enduring the fat man’s beady-eyed stare. He

refused to show any emotion at all, certainly no fear, discomfort or
deference. He slid a swift glance toward Manuel. The Indian stood
much the same, impassive and steady. Alex smiled inwardly, again
pleasantly surprised by his new partner. The guy had gumption,

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he’d give him that.

“So, the border patrol’s secret weapon is not so perfect, is it?

We have you now, and you’ll tell us everything before you leave.
If you cooperate, you’ll leave in one piece and without enduring a
great deal of pain. There’ll even be complete undamaged bodies
for your families and friends to honor.” The huge man spoke in a
light, high-pitched voice, almost feminine in quality. It made his
words all the more chilling, but Alex did not quail.

“We know very little,” he said easily. “We’re just regular

patrolmen, watching the border for those foolish and careless
enough to be caught. Why would one such as yourself waste time
on the likes of us?”

“I will ask the questions, dark hunter. And do not think to con

me. I know who you are. You are the bird man, the shape-shifter.
Are there others like you now with the patrol?”

Alex shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Say Sir or Honored One when you address his loftiness.” That

was Patron, who circled the desk to approach them.

Alex flicked a glance at him, did not see an obvious weapon,

and turned his attention back to the big man. “I don’t give such
honors to anyone. I am as good as any living man, better than
most.”

At that, Patron raised a short rod that resembled a ballpoint

pen. He pushed a button on the end nearest him. A bolt of
sparkling energy shot out of the other end like a laser. The shock
jolted through Alex, but he held his ground.

“You do if you want to stay healthy,” Patron said. “I can hit

you with much worse, like a taser, ten times over.”

Alex smiled thinly. “Very well. Sir, is it your practice to starve

your guests and deny them water? I’d find it much easier to be

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forthcoming if I had some food and something to drink.”

“You are bold. I admire that, although it’s foolish. Very well,

take them to the kitchen, Jorge, and give them food. When they’re
done, bring them back here.”

Gesturing with the tiny stun gun, Patron headed them toward a

door at the far end of the room and from there down another hall to
the rear of the house and an expansive kitchen. He directed them to
chairs at a rough table and called to one of the workers, who
brought them plates of tortillas with beans, meat and spicy sauce.
They also got heavy mugs full of cool water. It was simple fare,
the type the Indios and peons ate, but Alex did not take exception
to it. Nourishment and liquid was all he and Manuel required.
Essentially, they’d gotten what they’d asked for.

Before they had quite finished the meal, one of the cooks yelled

at Jorge. While their guard’s attention was diverted, Alex saw his
chance. He knew he took a huge risk, but he also knew he had to
try. He slid his chair back from the table a few inches as he shut his
eyes and visualized a small gray rodent. For a heartbeat, nothing
happened. Then he felt the familiar shimmer and tingle of a shift.

When he opened his eyes, the floor looked a long ways below

him. He leaped and ran as hard as he could toward the nearest
door, not the one through which they had entered, but another,
which appeared to open to the outdoors. A few seconds later, he
sensed another creature racing behind him. It didn’t feel massive
enough to be one of the bad guys’ special pets.

If that’s a local cat, I’m in big trouble, but maybe it’s Manuel. I

hope to hell it is anyway.

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CHAPTER 5

Alex didn’t slow down until he got into some thick brush on

the hillside several hundred yards above the rambling house. For a
few minutes, he huddled silently under a low shrub, staying in his
mouse form. Before he caught his breath, he saw a larger rodent,
apparently a desert packrat, scrambling up to his hiding place.

::Is that you, Manuel?::
::Yeah, I think it is. This sure feels funny. Can we change

back?::

::Do you sense anything close behind us?::
After a moment, the reply came. ::Not close. I changed a few

seconds after you did and barely got out the door, but I think we
confused them. They were expecting birds, not rats.::

:Okay.:: Alex moved out from under the bush and gathered his

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energy to shift back to human form. This was a jolt, different from
coming to ground and changing from raven back to man. Of
course, becoming the mouse had been a new effort, not familiar,
and leaving it this first time was hard.

Manuel seemed to struggle a bit as well, but finally emerged as

himself. “Damn it, partner, don’t ever do that to me again! I liked
to shit when you changed, but I knew I had to do something fast or
I’d be dead. Scared outta my skull, but I tried to picture a small
critter I could become—wound up a packrat, I guess.”

Without thinking, acting purely on the spirit of the moment,

Alex turned and gave his partner a spontaneous hug. “I’m sorry. I
figured that might be our best, or even our only chance, and there
was no time to warn you.”

For an instant, Manuel stiffened. Then he hugged back. It felt

good, warm and secure, even comfortable. Finally, Alex could
admit, at least to himself, that scared shitless was way too mild a
term. It feels so fucking good to be alive. To be free.

“Hey, we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”
Although he could not see the other man’s face, Alex could

hear the grin in Manuel’s words. He tightened his hold on the
shorter man. “Yeah, we do. I never figured on that, but we do.
Couple of crazy weird dudes, aren’t we?”

For a dozen heartbeats they stood holding each other, clasping

and clinging as if they would fall apart if they let go. Then Alex’s
cock twitched. Unless his imagination was still working overtime,
Manuel had a similar reaction.

Alex disengaged, slowly and gently to prove he was not either

afraid or offended. The sudden surge of attraction had nearly
blindsided him, but somehow he could not reject the idea, It
seemed almost inevitable, even appropriate. Then he realized a

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subtle sense of it had been shimmering under the surface for a few
days now, waiting quietly like a dormant volcano for the right
moment to burst free.

“We need to get as far from here as fast as we can. I hate like

hell to leave my car, but I don’t think we’d better try to go get it,
do you?”

Manuel had stepped back, too. He hunched his shoulders for a

moment and then relaxed. “No, I ’spect that would be way too
risky. Maybe we fly, huh?”

Alex nodded. “Beats walking. If we navigate by the stars and

go due north, we should get past the border before dawn. They
may try to look for us, but I’m hoping they won’t try to shoot
down anything they see flying.”

This time Alex waited until he saw Manuel begin his change.

He observed that the other man’s shifting method was subtly
different than his, but that was okay. It worked. As soon as he
shimmered into his feathered mode, they launched into the air
together.

By unspoken agreement, they stayed low and slipped along

canyons and any other natural protection they could find while
never veering far from bearing due north. Twice they lit in taller
trees for brief rests, and once they drank from a small stream, but
then they soared on while the rugged terrain slipped behind them.

As the sky began to pale toward dawn, Manuel scanned the

emerging shapes of the mountains ahead. Yes. There’s Babocomari
Peak. He glanced at Alex, flying beside him, and sensed his
partner was also tiring. That made the lean Scot more human
despite his current guise.

We make a weird pair. Never heard of a raven and a hawk

hunting together, but I kind of like it.

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He wasn’t sure if Alex knew the local terrain as well as he did

or not. He’d been flying over these mountains for close to fifteen
years now and he knew how they looked from every possible
angle. They’d flown a long way. He felt the dull burn in his wings,
in the muscles where they tied into his sides. He’d never been in
the air this long that he could recall, and certainly never been
driven to push so hard for speed and distance.

From this journey, he’d gained a new respect for his

permanently feathered brothers. They had to do this every day to
hunt, to get away from men with guns and occasionally to enjoy
the companionship of their own kind, although most raptors tended
to be solitary unless they had a mate. He really did not envy them.
This could be fun, but not all the time.

::Hey, we’re getting close to home.::
Alex’s answer came through clear, much more so than when

they’d been in the rodent forms. ::Time to land and start walking,
right?::

::I’d say we should. It’s about two, three miles to town and the

station. I’m not sure we ought to fly all the way in, but if you want
to, I guess we can.::

::No, I think you’re right. We’ll set down soon and change

back to our normal selves. Walking we should get to town just
before the day shift hits the road.::

They spiraled down, getting a little closer to town before they

finally lit. Shifting back took effort and again Manuel recognized
how close to exhausted he was. They’d flown most of the night. He
wasn’t sure how many miles, but as the crow flies—or in this case
the hawk and the raven—it had been quite a few.

Manuel always felt a vague surprise to find he was wearing the

same clothes he’d had on when he shifted. He had no idea how that

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worked or why, but it beat hell out of wandering in somewhere
naked. His empty holster rode light on his hip, but the rest of his
gear was all in place.

“Do you still have your knives?” He had to ask, remembering

his concern about them when they’d been captured.

Alex nodded. “Oh, yeah. I can go through airport security with

them unless they pat me down. The metal they’re made of has no
normal x-ray or other signature, which is another reason why
they’ll work on werewolves or anything I’ve ever run across.
Probably even on those pets Jorge and the boys have, but I
wouldn’t want to get that close to them.”

The last mile to the border patrol compound on the edge of

town felt like the longest one Manuel had ever covered. They
walked in together and went directly to Sergeant Wallace’s office.

The sergeant looked up as they came through the door. “You

two look like shit warmed over. Where’ve you been? You never
came in last night. Folks were worried.”

“We were detained,” Alex said, his tone bland and mild. “Had

a little run-in with one of the higher-ups in the cartel we’ve been
fighting and probably ended up about thirty miles south of the
border. I screwed up, didn’t get GPS coordinates while we were
there. I think I can find it again, though.”

“Sit down and fill me in.”
Alex shook his head. “In a minute. I need to call Chiles first on

the secure phone. Don’t want to risk listening ears on the cell.”

Manuel sank onto one of the side chairs and struggled to find

his center and balance again, while Alex called their boss. It felt
like a weird dream now, their escape and all night flight, but his
aching body told him that part must be real.

After Alex finished briefing Chiles, they gave Wallace a quick

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and dirty version of the story with minimal details about their
shifting. The sergeant shook his head. “I don’t like this weird crap.
Give me cartel assassins, drug dealers and border crashers, the
plain old normal human kind. I can deal with that. Unless you want
some of the regular force to help, I’ll just stay out of your way.”

“Chiles is sending some people, kind of a SWAT team. They’ll

be here tomorrow, and we’ll probably try a raid…all POU guys,
though, none of your regular crew. Right now, we need to get
some sleep. We’re both tofu’ed.”

“Tow food?”
Manuel was as puzzled as Wallace looked and sounded. Just

what did Alex mean?

“That’s T-O-F-U—totaled out and fucked up. I had to leave my

SUV down there. That pisses me off. I like that vehicle, and it’s
still almost new. Maybe we can bring it back after the raid.”

He turned and faced Manuel. “My room’s about a quarter-mile

down the road at the Desert View. You want to crash there for a
while? The way you look you shouldn’t be out on the highway in
that old rattletrap you drive.”

Manuel couldn’t bristle over his partner’s disparaging comment

about the old Ford. It was too accurate to dispute really. He
nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably best.”

Just then, he remembered the hug they’d shared and a funny,

twitchy feeling began south of his belt buckle. Are there two beds
in that room or just one? He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask.
What happens, happens, he decided. Maybe it was something they
both needed. Some kind of bond was building between them
anyway.

They walked down the road to the motel, not speaking. Really

too tired to do more than plant one foot in front of the other the

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number of times required. Alex unlocked the door with a beat-up,
old-fashioned key. He stepped aside and waved Manuel in.

There was one bed, one effing big bed. It must be a king size,

Manuel reckoned since it seemed to damn near fill the room. Alex
stepped in behind him and slammed the door.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to go out like a snuffed

candle.” He circled the bed into the bathroom, took a leak and
returned to sit on the far side of the bed and kick off his boots. He
unstrapped the knife holsters and laid them on the nightstand
before he stretched out, shoving one balled up pillow under his
head as he rolled to lie on his right side, facing the wall.

Manuel let out a long, shaky breath. He, too, went to the

bathroom to take a piss, then came back around to the side of the
bed nearest the door. He took off his partly empty gear belt and
settled it on the floor within easy reach, not that there was anything
of much use there now. Then he unzipped the sides of his military
paratrooper-style boots and let them fall from his aching feet. Alex
had kept his clothes on, so Manuel did the same. He fell asleep
almost before his body settled on the solid mattress.

* * *

Alex came awake with a start. He’d tried to turn over and

fetched up against the solid bulk of another body, close behind
him. Too close. What the fuck?

The room felt chilly. He must have forgotten to shut off the air

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behind him. Anybody else would have killed him already or
awakened him, tired though he had been. The slant of the light
through the dirty mini-blinds told him late afternoon had arrived.
He’d probably slept long enough.

With surreptitious care, he slid toward the edge of the bed, then

slowly rolled over to face the other man. Yeah, it was Manuel. He
must be cold because he edged closer as Alex turned to face him.
Relaxed in sleep he looked young, but up close Alex could see the
beginning of squint lines and the early traces of weathering on the
other man’s tawny skin. His long, inky lashes fanned out, almost
touching the high cheekbones. The Indian had a strong blade of a
nose above lips a shade darker than his skin, lips that curved now
in a half-smile as if he dreamed something pleasant.

Without thinking about it, Alex found himself stretching to

touch those lips with his own. An instant before skin met skin,
Manuel’s eyelids flew open. He mumbled a startled exclamation,
words Alex could not understand. He guessed they must be in the
native Tohono tongue.

For several seconds they looked at each other, so close Alex

could count every lash fencing Manuel’s expressive eyes, smell the
faint lingering trace of some aftershave or hair gel the other man
used, and feel the warm breeze of his breath.

Manuel did not pull away or draw back. Instead, he returned

Alex’s steady gaze and, after a moment, his lips again curved into
a slight smile.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I think I know what you were about to

do. I ain’t Sleeping Beauty, but if you want to, go for it.”

“You sure about that? Will you take a swing at me afterward?”

Alex fought the answering smile tugging at his own lips.

“Why don’t you try it and find out?”

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Alex did. Despite being mainly a loner, he’d been in and out of

a number of temporary relationships over the years, always with
other men. He had no doubts or misgivings about his own
sexuality. Although he wasn’t sure what Manuel’s leanings or
experiences were, maybe it was time to find out. He moved the last
few centimeters until his mouth closed with the other man’s. As he
made that contact, an electric jolt surged through his nerves.

He lifted his right arm, reached across and dug his fingers into

the thick hair at Manuel’s nape, curving his hand to the shape of
the other man’s skull. This kiss was not going to end until they had
both explored its every nuance. Feeling the solid wall of teeth
beneath the yielding flesh, Alex ran his tongue along the seam of
Manuel’s lips.

After a moment, the younger man opened his mouth. If he

hadn’t done this before, he caught on fast. Their tongues dueled as
they teased back and forth with licks and nips. Before they drew
apart, Alex’s cock was harder than an oak Billy club and, as nearly
as he could tell, Manuel’s was, too. They both breathed hard and
fast, blood pounding through their bodies with accelerating
heartbeats.

“Holy fuckin’ frijoles.” Manuel’s shocked whisper came out

muffled through their connected lips.

Finally, Alex drew back.
“I ain’t the prince, either, but that was still extraordinary.” Alex

gave his head a quick shake, trying to clear away the lingering
dizziness.

“So where do we go next?” Manuel asked.
Alex searched his partner’s face. A slanting beam of the low

sun slid through a gap in the blinds and shone across Manuel’s
dusky visage. The golden light brought out a bronze sheen in his

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skin and lit a spark within his dark eyes.

Absorbed in a study of his partner’s handsome face, Alex

spoke at last. “You’re a good-looking guy. I’m surprised you don’t
have a whole pack of females and some guys all chasing after
you.”

Manuel’s expression hardened for a moment. “No way. I never

encouraged anybody, never made myself agreeable or available.
The shifting thing…I was scared about it, what people might think
when they found out. I didn’t dare let anyone that close.”

“You mean you’re a fuckin’ virgin?” Alex blurted that before

he could censor his words.

Manuel laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. Not quite, I did it a

few times when I was in the army and got real drunk, too drunk to
care. Couple of times with whores and a few with another guy. But
I always felt lousy afterward, like it was a mistake. And I always
hoped I hadn’t said or done anything weird while I was kind of out
of control, you know?”

“It must’ve been hell, living with your gift and not knowing

what to make of it, or if there was anyone else in the world with
the same ability. I was spared that much, anyway. It ran in my
family enough I had people to talk to, to learn from, to learn it was
a gift and not some curse or terrible flaw. I’m sorry you had to
suffer that way.”

“It’s okay now,” Manuel said. “I know I’m not the only one

and I found you….”

Without another word, Alex wrapped his arms around Manuel

and drew him close. “Yeah, you found me. For whatever that’s
worth, you found another odd ball. But, hell, I can give you a great
blow job or hand job—whatever you fancy. And maybe you won’t
feel it’s a mistake when I’m done.”

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“I’ll do whatever you want, too. We’re partners, a team here,

aren’t we? At least for now.”

In answer, Alex reached down between them and started to

lower the zipper on Manuel’s pants.

Manuel caught hold of his wrist. “No, wait. Let’s get

undressed. We don’t have to be anywhere at a certain time, do we?
I’d rather not rush this if it’s all the same to you.”

“Okay, I’m good with that.” He rolled over, twisted to set his

feet on the floor and then rose to stand and stretch. “Man, I slept
like the dead, but I’m still tired. Do your shoulders ache from all
that flying?”

Manuel nodded. “Yeah, they do. I don’t think I ever flew so

long, so far.” He stopped abruptly in the midst of releasing his belt
and starting to step out of his pants, mesmerized by the sight of
Alex disrobing. The Scot was all sleek, lean, taut muscle, like a
Thoroughbred horse, his skin where clothing normally covered it
very pale, as close to really white as anyone Manuel had ever seen.
He looked like one of those marble statues they had in classic art
books.

In so many ways, they were total opposites. That contrast made

the notion of intimacy feel both daunting and irresistible.

After Alex threw his pants and shirt across a chair and then

rolled his briefs off his hips, Manuel remembered he needed to
undress, too. He managed it as quickly as he could, before he lost
his courage.

For a half-dozen heartbeats, they both stood and looked at each

other, recognizing and accepting they were so different, both
human males, but beyond that, the similarities were few.

Manuel had the husky build typical of his people, fighting off

becoming squat by keeping up a rigorous exercise routine he’d

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learned in the military. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his thick
thighs, solid shoulders and sturdy body. In that regard he’d never
felt inferior and neither had he in his masculine features—he had a
good solid cock, balls that fit his build and all of it worked. Even
where the sun rarely touched him, his skin held a tawny hue lightly
touched with a bit of russet.

Alex, on the other hand, had the spare build one branch of the

Celts often possessed, long bones and matching long, lean muscles.
But his body also was toned and fit. Each of them had a unique
beauty arising from fitness, confidence and total masculinity.

“Come here,” Alex ordered his voice low and compelling.
Manuel could not resist the command even if he’d wanted to.

He came around the foot of the bed, stopping when he was less
than an arm’s length from the other man. His head and his heart
might not yet be sure, but his cock had no doubts. It stood out at a
steep angle, almost touching his belly when it twitched with each
heartbeat. His gaze skidded down to Alex’s prick. It, too, extended,
poker-stiff.

We’ve flown together, fled together, worked together. This is

going to be all right. I don’t… I won’t be scared. Alex knows what
he’s doing and he’ll lead me, take care of me.

Manuel took the final half-step that put him chest to chest with

the taller man. His heartbeat sped up and he couldn’t get enough
air into his lungs. Blindly he reached out, finding Alex’s upper
arms and locking his hands on them.

He shut his eyes when Alex bent down, seeking another kiss.

This one went on and on, hours and eons, yet it still ended too
soon. How could mouths fit together and press, slide, sip and taste
in so many ways? Eventually Alex drew back, looked down for a
moment, then caught Manuel’s shoulders and pushed him

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backward onto the bed.

The momentum of the shove carried him onto his back to settle

with a couple of bounces. Before the last one ended, Alex
followed, dropping beside Manuel. In a moment, they turned to lie
on their sides, face to face. Alex’s cock nestled between Manuel’s
thighs and Manuel’s wedged between their stomachs. Every breath
shifted their bodies just enough to create a delicious friction. The
stimulation nearly swamped him. Manuel began to fear he would
embarrass himself by coming right there.

As if Alex had read his mind, the taller man pulled back,

slipped off the bed and dropped to kneel between Manuel’s knees.
He captured Manuel’s cock in one hand and leaned forward to take
the head into his mouth. That tug and pressure created the most
amazing sensations Manuel had ever felt. He muttered incoherent
words in a mixture of Tohono and Spanish while he dug his fingers
into the bedspread, trying to hold onto something solid in the midst
of the soaring, delirious pleasure.

After a series of licks and the most gentle of nips, Alex began

to bob his head, echoing the thrust and withdrawal movements of
fucking. It only took a half dozen or so of those before Manuel
shot off like a skyrocket. He expected Alex to pull back and
release him as soon as he began to come, but the other man didn’t.
Alex held on until the last surges faded.

Manuel lay limp and spent for a few breaths trying to absorb

this wonder. “Man, oh, man. I never really knew what awesome
meant, but I do now. That was awesome, real awesome.”

Alex grinned at him. “So you liked that, huh? Good. Do you

feel like it was a mistake?”

“No fuckin’ way! Do you think I’m loco?”
“I hope not. I’d hate to have a nut case for a partner.”

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“It’s your turn now. Turn about is the partner rule, right?”
Manuel lifted himself to rest on his elbows and looked into

Alex’s face. He saw the sensitivity there and also the strength. The
other man might be a walking contradiction in many ways, but he
was also unique and special, the closest thing to a brother of the
spirit that Manuel had ever met. They’d only known each other a
few days, yet already an incredible bond was forming. As much
because of their differences as in spite of them, he decided,

He grinned. “Get your ass up here on the bed. I’m gonna try to

suck your crazy Celtic brains out.” Caught up in emotions too
intense to deal with any other way, he fell into a flippant, jocular
approach. Otherwise, he was going to say or do something totally
stupid and embarrassing.

Alex stood, wincing as blood rushed back into his feet and

lower legs. He stamped a couple of times. “Feel like I’ve got ants
in my socks,” he complained. “But some parts don’t seem to be
impaired.”

Manuel glanced down at the other man’s cock. It was flushed

and engorged, ready for action. “I see that. Like I said, get your ass
on the bed.”

They changed places, and Manuel settled onto his knees, right

where Alex’s rigid shaft thrust straight into his face. He wrapped
one hand around it, near the base, paused for a few seconds to
savor the contrast of their skins and the fierce vital masculinity that
was Alex. Then he had to taste the clear drop poised on the tip. Its
salty flavor was all Alex, sharp and vivid. He widened his mouth
enough to take in the whole head then and tried to copy everything
Alex had done to him. Lick, swirl, nip and then begin to suck.

Alex made a low sound deep in his throat, a noise that sounded

almost tortured and very urgent. “Yeah, that’s it. Oh, yeah. Oh,

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God.” For a split second, Manuel almost panicked when Alex
clasped both hands on Manuel’s head, fingers digging into his
scalp, and held him close. The tip of Alex’s cock bumped the back
of Manuel’s throat as the other man lunged and thrust.

Manuel fought an instant’s urge to gag, but then got the rhythm

and rode with it. Alex came in a fierce, explosive burst, shooting
off into Manuel’s mouth. He returned his partner’s favor and
waited until the final burst to withdraw.

Alex gasped in a deep breath and let it out, then lifted himself

to look at Manuel. “And how about that, was that a mistake?”

Manuel gave him a wide grin, then ran his tongue across his

shiny, moist lips. “Not only no, but hell, no. We’re like blood
brothers or something now.”

“Each other’s wingman, anyway.”
Manuel nodded. He stood, then walked around the bed to

retrieve his clothes and began to dress. After a moment, he glanced
back at Alex as a sudden worry surfaced. He must think I can’t
wait to get out of here. Oh, shit.

“Don’t misunderstand. It’s not like I want to bug out on you,

but I need to go check on my folks. I called Mom from the station
and told her I was okay, but I could tell she was worried. She
knows there’s danger in my work and she’s scared to death of
being left to handle Dad on her own.”

Alex nodded to indicate he understood. “No prob. I told you I

understand about family, for most people anyway.”

Relief flooded through Manuel. “I’ll be back first thing

tomorrow. Our big boss is going to be here, isn’t he? That guy
Chiles?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I understood Clayton is actually coming

along with a special POU team. He mentioned some kind of

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cooperative effort with the Mexican Federales to run a raid on the
headquarters where they took us. I’d hazard a guess our friend El
Gordo is pretty high up in this cartel, maybe even the real jefe. And
he’s definitely not Mexican. I’d almost bet he isn’t even human,
but I could be wrong.”

Manuel cinched his belt, pulled on his boots and zipped them.

“I wish I could stay,” he said in a low voice.

“I know. It’s okay. We’ll have other times and, for what it’s

worth, I’ve given up any notion of trying to bust up our
partnership. We’ll fly together a lot more.”

Manuel smiled. “It’s a deal, partner.”

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CHAPTER 6

Manuel arrived the next morning just as Alex stepped out of his

room, prepared to walk down to the station.

“Hop in,” he said. “I know you lost your wheels. We did

enough hoofing and winging the last thirty-some hours to last us a
day or three.”

Alex accepted the ride gratefully. He suspected this was going

to be another long, hard day. It didn’t really require a hunch to
figure that out.

They pulled into the fenced compound just as a big black SUV

arrived, this one shiny instead of flat black like Alex’s missing
vehicle. It had Texas plates, but no official markings. Alex
suspected it was Chiles’ own vehicle. When his boss stepped out
through the driver’s side door, he knew he was right. Then several

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more people alighted.

Chiles did the introductions. Indicating the two men who

climbed out of the middle seat, he said, “This is Rhys Davis and
Liam Malone. You know them, Alex, but introduce your partner,
okay?”

Alex waved Manuel forward. “This is Manuel Ortiz, my

partner.”

As Manuel stepped to Alex’s side, Alex turned from Davis and

Malone to his partner. All at once, it seemed important to let not
only Manuel, but everyone else know as well that they had a true
partnership now, not just a match-up forced by higher echelons. He
put a hand on Manuel’s shoulder as he introduced the first agents
of the POU. “Manuel, this is the original POU team of Davis and
Malone.”

Manuel’s gaze skidded from one of the two men to the other.

He looked at them as if they were rock stars, champion athletes or
royalty. Then he steadied himself and found enough equilibrium to
shake hands with each of them.

Two more agents emerged then from the third seat. Alex did

not know either of them, but the fact they were female gave him a
small jolt. Well, there’re plenty of regular officers who are women,
so I guess POU can have some, too. If Chiles picked them, they
must be useful.

He caught Clayton’s eye and the senior man’s sly grin. The two

of them knew each other pretty well now, and Chiles had noticed
Alex’s start, subtle though it was.

“This is Nicky Dalton and Shel Slidell,” he said. “They’re

some of our newer folks, but I think you’ll see they make a great
addition to the unit.”

Alex shook hands with both women. They both had a firm

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shake and a steady eye-to-eye gaze that said “no nonsense” loud
and clear. Within a moment, he caught the strong bond between
the two. Okay, that’s how things are. What is it about partners,
especially ones with special gifts, that seems to work this way?
Wonder what their talents might be?

He knew better than to ask or even to probe mentally. If and

when there was a need to know, he’d find out or be told. For now,
the fact they were clearly some of Chiles’ hand-picked additions to
the POU was enough to recommend them.

“What’s the game plan, boss?”
“We’ll head to the border in a few minutes and meet up with a

team of Mexican Federales at Sasabe. Then we’re counting on you
and your partner to guide us to this hidden complex. We’ll drive as
far as we can and then figure out how to approach from that point.”

They all piled into the SUV, Chiles at the wheel, and headed

down the highway. Alex rode shotgun and Manuel squeezed into
the third seat with the two women. Chiles drove as fast or faster
than Alex did and seemed to pay no more attention to the task. On
the highway, it didn’t create any serious problems, but Alex could
sense Manuel’s tension.

::It’s okay, partner. Chiles taught me how to drive this way. Do

you think you can find that spot again, the complex where the bad
guys took us?::

::I think so. The mountains have a distinct shape. I looked back

several times as we flew north to fix that horizon in my mind. Are
we going to have to fly?::

::I don’t know for sure, but it’s likely one of us will. Who ever

goes will send directions back to the one who stays with the team.::

::Shit, then half the world will know.::
::I’ll go. My skill isn’t going to be a secret much longer

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anyway. I’m ready to come out with it.::

When they hooked up with the Federales, Alex realized the

Mexicans now had a POU group of their own, something he had
not known before. He could sense the subtle vibrations of
paranormal powers in at least three of the four men who joined
their team. It should not have been a surprise—the real aliens were
operating on both sides of the border so building a Mexican unit to
deal with them was eminently practical. In a way, it might make
the POU’s job easier.

The Federales led the way to a rough road that meandered up

into the mountains just below the border. Although it was a stretch
to call the twisting two rut route a road, with the SUVs they were
able to drive quite a few miles up into the canyon. Finally, the
track petered out.

“From here we go on foot,” Chiles said. “Alex, do you have an

idea which way we need to go?”

Alex nodded. “I can find my way back if I get high enough to

look around.”

He met Chiles’ steady gaze for a moment and nodded again.
::Are you sure you want to let everyone know?::
Alex appreciated that his boss asked the question wordlessly,

but he answered aloud. “I’m sure, boss. The time for hiding this
particular skill is past, I’d say. I’ve been seen by enough of the bad
guys lately that it’s hardly a secret weapon any more. Manuel and I
can communicate, at least for some distance, and he can pass along
to the rest of you which way you need to go.”

Without further discussion, Alex shifted, launched into the air

and spiraled upward with strong beats of his ebony wings. ::Send
me a picture of the ridgeline, Manuel.::

He could feel Manuel’s concentration and then a dim image

WINGS OF LOVE

began to take shape in his mind. He rose a little higher and scanned
the terrain, turning slowly until what he saw began to match the
mental picture Manuel gave him. He homed in on that and then
relayed directions back to his partner on the ground.

::Got it. We’ll head out on foot. It isn’t that far. Good.::
Not long before midday, the group assembled on a hill

overlooking the hidden compound. They all had the ability to fade
into the scenery, some by actually becoming invisible and others
by creating a shield that simply directed the attention of anyone
watching to something else. Alex settled to the ground behind the
rest. He immediately shifted back so he could take part in the raid.
Nobody seemed the least bit shocked or surprised at his
demonstration of wild talent.

Again he wondered what the other agents did, especially the

two women. He knew Rhys and Liam had strong recall from the
ancient past and an incredibly powerful bond. Maybe in time
Manuel and I could… No, it’s too soon to think about that. We
might not work out. I’ve never made a relationship last yet.

The group spilled into the valley, sliding as easily and quietly

as drops of water or a puff of wind. They made little noise, caused
little stir and hardly drew the notice of the birds and small
creatures that inhabited the rugged hillsides. Each member of the
team had some way to distract attention from himself or herself,
casting but the faintest of shadows and blending into the
environment.

Alex had learned this trick from his grandfather, practicing

until he could fade into a gorse-covered Scots hill when he was but
a wee lad. He wasn’t surprised to see Manuel had similar abilities
in his own unique way. Of course Malone and Davis did,
too…maybe something they had learned in that long ago life when

WINGS OF LOVE

they’d been a Druid and a Celtic warrior. The two women clearly
had their own methods, as did the four Mexicans. Using only
normal vision, Alex could not have detected them at all.

Around the fortified mansion, the honcho had his guards were

posted, of course. They had expected that much, but most of the
drug lord’s men seemed to be confident to the point of
nonchalance. Officer Dalton approached one and materialized into
her normal and obvious form.

“Wake up,” she said. “Your boss will not be happy with you.”

Before the man could whirl to face her, she flipped a cord around
his neck and drew it tight. In a few seconds, she lowered his limp
body to the ground. If he was not dead, he was near enough to it to
pose no threat. Davis and Malone took out two others, and Alex
dispatched one more with a stun-touch that would leave the man
helpless for several hours.

That left them a clear path into the house, but he suspected

things could get dicey fast once they entered. The inner circle
around the head man would be more vigilant and there were the
special pets to contend with also. Inside the front door, they halted,
waiting to see if some kind of beams or warning detected the entry.

For a few breaths, all stayed quiet. Then suddenly all hell broke

loose. The gargoyle-like monsters emerged through the branching
hallways to come at them from each side followed by Jorge to the
left and a couple of his men to the right.

“Time to rock and roll,” Chiles said, sotto voce. The group

spread quickly to make the most targets they could, too many to
take down all at once.

“Monster on the left is mine.” That sounded like Davis. Malone

backed him. They did something involving a blur of motion and a
few harsh syllables, too fast for Alex to follow. The creature let out

WINGS OF LOVE

an anguished screech before it wilted to the tile floor in a lumpy
puddle of dirty fur, leathery wings and greasy ichor.

The swift collapse of one of his pets clearly took Jorge by

surprise. He hesitated a moment too long before raising his rifle. A
hail of bullets screamed down the corridor, but when they got
close, the intended target was not there. The startled drug runner
slammed another magazine into his rifle and tried again.

Almost melting into the walls, the two female officers flashed

toward him, in seconds getting so close he could not swing the
barrel to aim at either of them. One grabbed his arms, while the
other flipped a garrote over his head. The fine wire almost
decapitated the man while he struggled, but there was no way he
was going to escape.

On the other side, the second monster-beast slowed, as if scared

by the sudden end of its mate. The two men, Pancho and Puerco,
also hesitated, unused to making their own plan without Jorge to
direct them.

::Let’s head for the office.:: Alex sent his suggestion

telepathically to Manuel.

::Right behind you, amigo.::
They went straight ahead, through a pair of wide double doors.

Alex felt his way based on what he remembered from their
previous visit. The honcho’s office is…yeah, to the right here. The
second set of doors stood closed, perhaps barred.

It’s been too easy so far. The big guy is going to have some

ugly surprise for us.

That disturbing but indisputable hunch settled cold in his gut.

He reached down as he trotted along the wide hallway and grabbed
each of his knives from their sheaths. If he met some kind of
otherworldly powers or protections, they’d be of more use than any

WINGS OF LOVE

normal firearm. The keen blades were impervious to magic and
spell craft and they could penetrate most power-based shields. So
far he had never encountered anything that could really repel or
resist them. Pray to the gods I don’t now.

Without needing to discuss it, they took opposite sides when

they reached the inner doors, Manuel to the left and Alex to the
right. Behind them, they could hear an echoing commotion as
apparently more guards and minions confronted the rest of the
team. They had to ignore that for now. They knew who they
wanted and they were going to get him.

Reaching as far as he could while he hugged the wall, Alex

touched the door latch. He folded his hand over the brass lever and
began to turn it. It balked at going up so he pushed down. With a
faint click, the mechanism released. The door swung inward.

When the lock released, Manuel shoved on his side so it swung

in. For a split second, nothing happened. Oh, shit, is this the right
room?

The thought had barely crossed Alex’s mind when a blast of

pure energy slammed through the portal. Even a brushing touch
was enough to make them both stagger. It felt like the breath of a
hurricane, the exhalation of a volcano. It seared; it ripped. It
sucked the air out of their lungs.

“Come in.” The voice was low but clear, weighted with a

subtle tone of sarcasm. “Assuming, of course, that you’re still
standing and able to move.”

Alex squared his shoulders and gathered the best of his

shielding. ::Stay behind me.:: He knew Manuel might be offended
by the order, but he was not sure how strong his partner’s defenses
were. Partly shielded by Alex’s protection he might be spared the
worst of what was to come.

WINGS OF LOVE

With all the bravado he could summon, Alex slipped into the

exact center of the doorway, paused for a breath and then strode
into the room. He sensed Manuel at his heels, moving almost as if
they were on the same set of marionette strings.

The fat man sat behind the same massive desk. This time he

looked almost reptilian, like an enormous toad, eyes seeming to
bulge out of his bloated face, opaque pupil-less eyes like those of a
venomous snake. His smile seemed to stretch three quarters of the
way around his head, a smile filled with a snaggle of pointed teeth.

“Do not try to shift,” he warned. “You will not be allowed even

to begin that silliness. This time we meet on my terms. No mice,
no birds, nothing. If you become a bug, I will eat you.” His tongue
flicked out, curled and slid back into his gaping mouth.

Alex kept his face impassive, but his thoughts darted in urgent

haste, seeking anything his grandfather had taught him, anything
he had ever seen or heard or read that he could bring to bear on the
conflict he knew would test him to the maximum.

He’d kept his hands at his sides, the knives concealed against

his arms, the hilts resting within his curled fingertips. “Very well,”
he said. “I don’t have to change form to bring a stinger or two into
the fight.” With a lightning-fast twist of his left hand, he hurled the
first blade, sending it streaking in a blur toward the obscene entity
behind the desk. He counted on the fat man not being able to move
fast. If he’d guessed wrong, he’d just wasted one weapon and the
element of surprise along with it. The risk seemed one he had to
take.

The surgically honed blade could cut steel, glass, and even

pierce an inch or two of concrete. It hit and buried itself into the fat
man’s shoulder; he’d moved enough for it to miss the center of
mass and perhaps the location of his heart, but not enough to avoid

WINGS OF LOVE

it. He hissed a thin whistle of pain. “You’ll pay for that, dark
hunter.” The words came on a second hissing breath.

He lifted his left arm, the right one seemingly impaired by the

wound. A laser-like beam of energy shot from his pudgy
outstretched fingers. The beam caught Alex squarely, mid-torso,
but his shield held, acting like a bulletproof vest. The force rocked
him back, but did not burn or pierce him. He bumped Manuel, but
regained his balance at once.

He had to save the second knife for the right moment. He knew

now that the huge man was not impervious to their metal, but also
that it would take a precise strike to bring him down.

He heard Manuel behind him, felt a rush of energy as his

partner prepared to take some action. He could not look back to see
what Manuel intended to do. ::Be careful. Don’t expose yourself
unless you’re sure of your shielding.::

::Maybe we can’t shift in his energy field, but that doesn’t

mean we can’t reverse the process, maybe shift him.::

::Are you fucking crazy? How do you know it’ll work? We

don’t even know what kind of alien or creature he really is. This
guise is probably a false likeness. The reality might be even
worse.::

A second wave of power came at him then and again he

staggered back, fighting to keep his balance and stay centered. This
one was twice as strong as the first, and he felt a drain on his own
forces as it washed over him. I’ve got to get my second knife into
him, into an eye or his throat. Got to do it fast before I lose too
much of my strength.

Manuel’s thought came, urgent and demanding. ::Help me.

Lend me as much energy as you can spare. This is a kind of like
one of my grandpa’s medicine tricks, but I think I can make it

WINGS OF LOVE

work. There’s a ceremony where some of the men dance with
rattlesnakes after the medicine man neutralizes them, makes them
unable to strike. I think I can use it here.::

Although Alex hated to take any power away from his

protective shields, something made him trust Manuel’s insane plan.
He had to time this exactly right, but if he could throw the second
knife at the exact instant Manuel’s trick took effect, it might work.

::Now!::
Manuel stepped clear of Alex and threw both arms forward,

yelling a few words in a harsh and grating tone. Alex swore blue
flame flared from the other man’s outstretched fingers, coalesced
into arrow shapes that shot at the big man’s head. A breath before
those darts hit, Alex threw his second knife. The beams of energy
hit squarely in the center of the bulbous head and Alex’s knife
impacted a nanosecond later, just below the jowly chin.

With a sharp sound like the explosion of a balloon, the

humanoid shape swelled and then collapsed, splintering into
fragments and sliding to the floor to shape a pool of viscous, oily
liquid, afloat with patches of slimy skin, and exuding a nauseating
stench.

Alex swayed on his feet, gulping in tainted air in an urgent

need to find enough oxygen to recharge. Manuel grabbed his arm.
“Steady, partner. It’s okay. We got him.”

“Good work, boys.”
Chiles’ voice came from behind them, making both Alex and

Manuel jump. They wheeled around to face their boss. He strode
toward them, having apparently emerged unscathed from whatever
further conflicts had occurred in other parts of the house.

“I saw the last part of your efforts. You both did everything

exactly right. One really bad black hat down. Not that there aren’t

WINGS OF LOVE

dozens more to take his place, but this cartel is going to be a dead
issue.”

He clapped Manuel on the shoulder. “Good to have you with

us, Agent Ortiz. I like the way you work.”

Manuel went red beneath his natural tan. Alex met his gaze and

winked. ::It’s okay. You’re a real part of the POU crew now. That
was your initiation.::

“We rounded up several of the lower level members while you

two were busy,” Chiles continued. “The Federales will be taking
charge of them. They all seem to be normal human scum, nothing
with power or off-world connections. Davis and Malone scanned
them all. I did, too. I’m sure we didn’t miss anything.”

Alex started to feel better. He slung an arm across Manuel’s

shoulders, needing the contact, needing to feel their connection.
Manuel slanted a glance up at him and grinned. Alex grinned back.

“So where do we go from here, boss?”
Chiles shrugged. “I think we can start for home pretty soon.

We’ll let the Mexicans decide what to do with the bulk of the
property here, although we’re taking a few things back with us,
including a trunk full of greenbacks and some weapons. They’ll
make sure all the drugs are destroyed.”

He glanced at Alex and Manuel, shot a keen look at Alex, then

turned away. He paused mid-stride, looking over his shoulder.
“Understand you left a vehicle here, Alex. Why don’t you see if
you can find it? If you do, head on back. Just write a detailed
report for me before you go back on patrol. I think you’ve earned
an extra rest day.”

Alex waited a moment. “Is there any chance we can come in

out of the cold and let the government know what we’re doing and
why before long?”

WINGS OF LOVE

“I’m working on that. Actually, key people do know. Maybe

we’re not ready to tell the world just yet, but in time, we will.
That’s why the reports are critical. I need a lot of facts and figures
to take to Congress and the secretary’s office before we go
mainstream. This is still outside most folks’ comfort zone, you
know.”

Manuel laughed. “Shit, it’s still outside of mine.”
Chiles smiled at both of them. “You two’ll be okay. Get out of

here. I have some loose ends to tie up, but you’ve done your part.”
He gestured back toward massive desk, which now hid the messy
remains of the Jabba the Hut-lookalike they had taken down. “I’ll
have some tests run on that residue, but I’m sure he was extra-
terrestrial and had powers. Just not equal to those of a couple of
special agents in the POU.”

WINGS OF LOVE

CHAPTER 7

Manuel and Alex walked out the wide doors, open now and

unguarded. As he looked around, Manuel could hardly believe less
than an hour had elapsed since they entered the fortress-like house.
It felt as if he’d lived half a lifetime in there. Once that first blast of
energy came at them, he’d fully expected to die, but he’d also
found the determination to go down fighting. With a partner like
Alex, he could do no less.

They came upon Malone and Davis, talking quietly in the

shade of a massive black oak, a few yards from the doorway.

Davis looked at them with a slight smile. “Looks like you two

got your revenge. Good work. If you’re looking for the dark hunter
car, Alex, I think it’s down in the garage.” He pointed to a large
metal building about a hundred yards down the valley.

WINGS OF LOVE

Manuel looked at Davis, one of his heroes as a legend in the

POU and the whole border patrol. Less than a few hours ago, he’d
been completely in awe of the slender dark man. Now he could
greet him on close to equal footing. That was a strange but
empowering sensation. It brought home, as nothing else had, that
there were going to be two new names on the invisible roll of POU
heroes, men who’d taken out an appalling enemy and lived to tell
the tale.

Man, we did it. Me and Alex, we really did it. For a weird kid

from the old Papago Rez, the bean eaters as they called us, that’s
one giant leap. I’m not sure what my people or the ancestors
would make of it, but I just might have some powerful medicine—at
least, Alex and I do together.

The weariness and shock sloughed away like molting feathers.

With a new spring in his step, he matched Alex’s eager strides
down to the garage. Sure enough, the dull black SUV waited
inside. Alex rummaged in a pocket and came out with his keys. In
a few minutes, they had filled up with some of the cartel’s gas and
headed off down the winding road toward the border and home.

They pulled into the station yard about four o’clock. Alex had

been very quiet on the drive back. Manuel found himself
wondering what the Scot was thinking, although he hesitated to
ask. They might be partners, but the connection was still new and
perhaps tenuous. He didn’t want to push too much.

As he cut the motor, Alex looked across at him. “We have

some celebration coming, don’t you think? If you call your mom
and let her know you’re okay, can you hang around for a while?”

Manuel laughed out loud. “Aw, shit, Alex, when you put it that

way it sounds like I’m about twelve years old. I don’t exactly have
to get permission, but that sure brings me down a few notches from

WINGS OF LOVE

being almost a superhero along with the likes of Malone and Davis
and you.”

Alex burst out laughing, too. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it

sound like a put-down. I know you’re concerned about your folks
and I admire that. I… Well, I think it’d be nice to have someone to
be concerned about. I’ve flown alone for so long, I’m just trying to
say I want you to spend some time with me tonight or whenever
you can, that’s all.”

“Sounds like a damn fine plan to me. And, yeah, I’ll stay in

town for awhile. How about a steak dinner at The Hacienda and
then maybe some time back on that big bed in your room?”

Alex’s dark eyes lit. “Sounds like a deal I can’t turn down.

Let’s go.”

* * *

In the end, they decided they needed to clean up before hitting

a nice restaurant for dinner. Manuel kept a spare clean uniform and
a set of civilian clothes in his locker at the station. He said he could
collect the civvies while Alex gave Sergeant Wallace a quick
briefing and left a note for Clayton Chiles. Then they drove over to
the motel.

“You can have the shower first,” Alex offered.
“Got a better idea,” Manuel said. “If you’ll scrub my back, I’ll

scrub yours.”

Alex grinned. “It’ll be close quarters, but you’ve got a deal.”
They both shucked their clothes in record time.
Alex always used his own full-sized soap and bath sheet-sized

towels. “I hate those damn diddly little soap bars and trying to dry
with a fuckin’ flimsy postage stamp-sized towel,” he explained.

WINGS OF LOVE

“Let me get an extra one of mine out for you.”

Once they both squeezed into the shower stall, they barely had

room to turn around, but that just added to the fun. Slick skin slid
against slick skin as they maneuvered, and the process of soaping
and scrubbing each other turned into more of a grope fest and
general grab-ass than serious business, but they did manage to get
some bathing done.

By the time they washed off the soap, they were both laughing

like kids, but also achingly aroused. Grabbing the two huge thick
towels, they dried off and headed for the bed.

“No way can I go out in public like this,” Alex said, indicating

his fully erect cock. “I think we better take care of first things
first.”

“That makes two of us,” Manuel agreed.
They fell across the bed, tightly wrapped in each other’s arms,

stiff pricks dueling and thrusting, trapped between their bodies.

“I don’t have a condom,” Alex admitted, as they turned to lie

side by side instead of half on top of one another, rolling around in
playful grappling. “Yesterday I didn’t even think of it—should’ve,
but I didn’t. I’m clean and healthy and I expect you are, too, but I
guess it’s best to be careful.”

Manuel’s face registered his shock as that sank in. “Oh, yeah, I

never even thought of it. Well, I wasn’t thinking much for a bit
there, to tell the truth. What do you want to do?”

Alex shrugged. “I’m not too worried, but I wanted to let you

know. If you’re okay going without protection, I am, too.”

“Okay. It’d be like locking the corral after the horse goes

missing now. Anyway, I never heard of a shape-shifter with AIDS
or VD, did you?”

“And just how many shape-shifters do you know?” Alex cuffed

WINGS OF LOVE

Manuel alongside the head, just rough enough to be rowdy but not
hurtful.

“Herds and bunches, just like you.”
“Mine were all my fuckin’ kinfolks until I met you.”
“So quit bullshitting and get on with it.”
They rolled again leaving Alex on top. He settled between

Manuel’s thighs and pushed them apart. His eager cock thrust
down between Manuel’s legs, while Manuel’s became trapped
between their bodies. Now every subtle shift and move created
pressure and friction, stimulating them both.

“I don’t have any lube, either,” Alex admitted. “I don’t bring

guys home too often, or to wherever I‘m hanging my hat. I guess I
should be better prepared.”

“Spit’ll do in an emergency,” Manuel said. “It’s pretty slick

really.”

Alex nodded, almost past the point of coherent speech. “Okay.

We can try. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Pulling back, Alex rocked up onto his knees. He spread

Manuel’s legs wider and then lifted one over each of his shoulders.
He spat into one hand and rubbed the liquid onto his cock. Then he
did it again and ran his hand down between the other man’s butt
cheeks, then eased a finger into his ass. He stroked his cock a few
times and let the pre-cum gather at the tip before he moved to
begin easing his way in.

Once he had himself seated in Manuel’s tight channel, he

leaned forward so as he thrust, his belly and Manuel’s rubbed
together, Manuel’s cock trapped between them. They were both so
close they came quickly, Alex inside and Manuel on his own taut
abs. For a moment, Alex paused, holding his body up on stiff arms
that began to tremble with the aftereffects of his intense climax.

WINGS OF LOVE

“You okay? I got carried away there at the last. Couldn’t slow

down or be careful for you.”

Manuel gave a crooked grin. “I was too far gone by then to feel

any pain, partner. That was something. I never did it like that
before. It was fierce, man, really fierce.”

Alex rolled off and got up to fetch one of the still-wet

washcloths so they could clean up. Afterward they lay quietly for a
while, side by side, barely touching yet connected in a way so
powerful and yet subtle that it defied words.

“That was flying together in a whole different way,” Manuel

said after a few moments of silence. “It’s good to have a real
partner, a brother…”

“A wingman,” Alex finished. “I think we’ve both been looking

for that for a long time. If we’re lucky, we may have found
something to keep. Maybe we can create a bond like Davis and
Malone have and like those two gals who came with Chiles. I
didn’t think I wanted a partner. Figured I’d rather fly solo, but
damned if it doesn’t feel good to soar on the wings of love.”

He laughed then, self-conscious at his own fanciful words, but

somehow they didn’t sound as stupid and phony as he’d feared.

“I could get used to it pretty fast, too. Maybe I already am.”

Manuel exhaled a long, slow breath and then twisted to roll off the
bed and scramble to his feet.

He grinned at Alex, mischief and humor dancing in his eyes.

“All this exercise has given me a hunter’s appetite. Let’s go get
that steak.”

EIRDRE

O’D

ARE

Deirdre O’Dare, who also writes milder (roughly PG-13 rated)
romance as Gwynn Morgan, has loved reading and writing since
early childhood. Writing came naturally to Deirdre/Gwynn, who
scribed her first simple verse at age eight. An avid reader, she
devoured hundreds of books while growing up and later as an
adult. Somewhere along the way she found romance and then
romance with more explicit and detailed love scenes. “Ah ha,” said
she, “I think I have found my niche!” In the last decade after
leaving her “day job” as a civilian employee of the U. S. Army, she
finally settled into romantic fiction writing as a second career.
Deirdre has a growing number of shorts and novellas, all published
by Amber Heat.

With Irish and Welsh ancestry on both sides of her family, Deirdre
has always been enthralled by the history and customs of the Celtic
peoples as they have come down to us. The Mother Goddess idea
particularly resonates with her as well as the notion that physical
expressions of love between consenting couples are both a divine
gift and a sacred duty to honor the Mother. Deirdre admits her
favorite heroes are cops, cowboys and Celts.

* * *

Don’t miss Beyond The Shadows

by Deirdre O’Dare,

available at AmberAllure.com!

First-year Border Patrol officers Rhys Davis and Liam Malone
have been friends since second grade. When their new assignment
puts them on the front line in tracking down a vicious and inhuman
killer, an unearthly Soul-Eater, along the southern border, they
must call on every resource at their disposal.

The most potent of these resources turns out to be memories they
share from two thousand years ago, a time in the British Isles
when they were partners in every way, forming an eternal bond
that allowed them to defeat this same enemy in that lifetime.

Now, Rhys and Liam can’t help but wonder…will crossing the line
from friends to lovers in this lifetime destroy their friendship or
build on it?

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

OLD

TANDARD IN

UBLISHING

UALITY

OOKS

OTH

RINT AND

LECTRONIC

ORMATS

CTION

DVENTURE

USPENSE

HRILLER

CIENCE

ICTION

ARK

ANTASY

AINSTREAM

OMANCE

ORROR

ROTICA

ANTASY

GLBT

ESTERN

YSTERY

ARANORMAL

ISTORICAL

IRECT

AVE

www.AmberQuill.com

www.AmberHeat.com

www.AmberAllure.com

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