Circle of the Moon (Soulwood #4 )- Faith Hunter Page 0,3

normally would love a drive along tree-lined country roads, under a night sky, watching the stars and a metor shower, but I didn’t like this one. The things we were told to bring along suggested that Rick had a problem, and anytime a wereleopard had a problem it was dangerous.

“Dial his old cell number,” Occam said.

Rick had acquired a new cell number while I was a tree. Something about a problem in New Orleans, involving Jane Yellowrock, one of his exes. No one seemed to know what had happened between them, but Rick had kept the old number and the old cell. A way for Jane to reach him if she ever wanted. Rick’s love life was as broken and emotionally maimed as his psyche.

A lot had happened while I was out of commission. I had been back at work only three weeks and I was still getting accustomed to the changes. Rick answered, sounding out of breath and wary at the same time. “I see your lights. Pull over to the right,” he said. Satellite maps showed that the right side of the road was pasture or field, and beyond that was the Tennessee River. Occam braked onto the grassy verge.

A hundred feet ahead, Rick appeared in the darkness, a thin orange blanket printed with black puppy paws wrapped around his middle. His silver and black hair caught the light, too long, flying in the breeze, his face scruffy, signs of a recent shift.

His chest was bare, the headlights giving me a glimpse of the ruined, scarred tattoos across one shoulder and scars from wounds that should have killed him. A lot of scars, especially for a were-creature.

Long after the blood-magic tattoos had been applied, Rick had been infected by the were-taint, bitten by one black wereleopard, then chewed on and tortured by werewolves, and then spelled by Paka, a second black wereleopard. All that in a matter of months, which had affected the magic of the were-taint, leaving him unable to shift until the last seven or eight moon cycles.

Rick had been a were-creature only a few years, and in that time had been dragged through hell and back. Lately he had been looking what I called antsy—twitchy and agitated. Tonight that was multiplied times ten. Magic rolled off him, making the air itself seem to spark as he moved, balanced and cat-like, toward the car.

Beside me, Occam hissed in a slow breath, picking up the sizzling energy that Rick was throwing off. He gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make the leather covering squeak softly.

“Rick doesn’t look entirely in control,” I said quietly. “Why isn’t Pea or Bean here?”

“No humans nearby,” Occam said.

I realized why I had been sent with Occam, not one of the other agents. I was more tree than human and was immune to the were-taint that would turn others into a were-creature. If Rick attacked me, I could heal as soon as I got my fingers into dirt. I also had some small control over Rick because of his tie to my land. Occam and I were most likely to survive if Rick attacked. I had been expected to understand all that and I hadn’t. Until now, when I put it all together.

Right, I thought.

“Besides, I got this.”

“Hmmm,” I said, trying to decide if he really did. Occam lived in more harmony with his cat than Rick with his, possibly because Occam had spent twenty years in a cage getting to know his spotted leopard. Rick’s cat had been chained into the human body even at the full moon and was now half-feral, prickly, and intent on winning dominance games and fights. The two men got along okay, but the cats, not so much. They were alphas, and the status of who was more dominant between them—the mature spotted leopard or the more powerful but immature black leopard—was always in flux. They hunted together but were solitary cats. It was complicated.

Rick’s puppy blanket glowed in the headlights as he got closer and so did his eyes, the green magic of his cat still close to the surface. Beside me, Occam shifted in the seat and a low vibration began in his chest. A growl, quickly cut off. I glanced sideways at Occam, who said, “His cat is close.” His voice was laconic and heavy with Texas twang, trying to hide his reaction.

“Uh-huh.”

Occam grinned unrepentantly, his scarred face dragging up on one side. “I got this,” he repeated. He blew out a breath