Kade had spent the last three years tracking the rest of the Dires that killed Cas. He’d found some. They’d never howl at another moon. He’d found another of them—his scent was all over that storage facility. The Dire that had been in that building had also been in his dreams.
The thought pushed the fangs once more from his gums. He wiped the blood from his chin, growled, and shoved the memories aside. First, he needed to focus on the task at hand, then he would find the bastard.
The female situation was only getting worse. And the implications for Cryptids as a whole were grim because the Sabre Weres weren’t unique in their problems. The Dire Weres were experiencing a similar phenomenon. Only they weren’t playing by the rules the council had set out all those years ago. There was a way out for the Weres. A loophole in the Cryptid fabric. The virus in Were blood could be transmitted a single night every month. Its reproductive cycle was synced to that of the full moon. If a Were bit a human or a humanoid Cryptid in that thirty-hour period, the virus was transmitted. And during the next full moon that individual would either transform to a Were—or die trying.
At one time, such a thing was forbidden. Punishable by death. But the council was losing its grip on the Cryptid population. Without enough Sabres to maintain order, they’d started appointing selected Dires to the role. And with them came trouble.
The appointments granted power to some who shouldn’t be empowered. Kade believed those individuals shielded illicit activities among their own kind. Rumors flew through the Sabre network. If they were to be believed, what had happened in Manitoba was happening across the globe.
The photos told him Cara had been right. These women had been bitten by Dires during the last full moon, in the hopes of creating new mates. The problem was, only one in three humans ever survived the transformation.
Kade pushed the bite photos aside and spread out the pictures of the women themselves. A petite blonde woman, one with chestnut hair, and—his heart gave a single, great leap, and stopped cold.
The last photo was of a woman with dark curly hair. And eyes the color of moonlight.
Shatza...it couldn’t be. But it was. The woman who’d been flitting through his dreams. First as a human. And lately, as a Dire.
How was that possible? It made no sense. Even if she had been bitten by a Dire, why was she in his dreams?
His heart was now hammering, threatening to pound its way straight out of his chest. One in three. The words dropped like a death knell in his mind.
If the odds were correct, only one of these women would make it to their animal form.
The other two would die trying.
* * *
Despite his exhaustion, Zach did not sleep well.
By the time he’d finished his shower, there wasn’t much left of the night. He managed a few fitful hours before rising to call the courier company.
Thankfully, Wanda answered, and not Vicky.
“Hey, Wanda. It’s Zach Thomas.”
“Hey, Zach.” The clerk sounded harassed. But that was a normal state for her. The sudden interest in her voice, however, was new.
“I won’t be in today—”
“Was that you on the newsfeed? Did you find those women?”
Zach winced. “Yeah, it was me.”
“Did you really hear them scream?”
Oh, man.Zach closed his eyes and rubbed his face. “Yeah. Look, I’ve had no sleep and can’t be driving today.”
“I can’t believe you found them.”
“Wanda, I’ve gotta go. I’ll be in tomorrow.”
He sensed her frustration at the lack of available gossip, but she relented. “Okay, Zach. Take care.”
He hung up the landline. He rarely used it for calls, only giving the number to potential horse training clients. The voicemail acted as a decent screener. He missed his phone and iPad, though. He didn’t participate much on social media, but he liked to lurk. He had a few Facebook groups he followed.
Twenty minutes on his laptop and five missed landline calls convinced him that not having his phone was a good thing. The news was out. Everyone who’d ever had a horse trained by him, as well as a few other acquaintances, were trying to get a grip on the grapevine.
Humans really were a bunch of monkeys. Curious and nosy as hell.
