Sentinels: Jaguar Night. Doranna Durgin

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СКАЧАТЬ crouched down close to the earth and dismissed the Sentinels from his thoughts. He closed his eyes, opened his nose and rediscovered the trail. The woman. The dark quest he’d been following before he’d indulged himself.

      No. It’s part of the job. Of protecting this territory. Not just from the evil that menaced it, the Atrum Core, but from the mundane things as well. The man would think twice before returning here, embroidering the story of his brush with death until his friends ceased to truly believe him—but they, too, might also think twice the next time they went four-wheeling on protected lands.

      And the man might have seen a flash of black, might have felt the brush of fur and whisker and massive paw…but nothing more. For all he knew, he’d been nailed by a desert Bigfoot.

      Not a huge, sleek and healthy black jaguar with startling blue eyes and a man’s thoughts.

      Meghan saw him coming. She knew him instantly for what he was; her mother had taught her that much before she’d died. Vigilia. Sentinel. Those who had failed her mother. Those who had sent her out to die alone.

      Another couple of steps and it hit her in a literal gasp of realization—his other nature.

      …a fine young man who takes the jaguar.

      Jaguar. In every step, emanating from his very being…as clear to Meghan as if he’d stalked up to her in form, just as her mother’s coyote had always glimmered clearly to Meghan’s younger eyes.

      The horse knew what he was, too, and she barely managed to secure the side rein snap before he leaped away, pulling from her grasp to gallop in panicked circles at the outside edge of the training pen. Around and around, flashing repeatedly between her and the approaching man, tail clamped tight and ears back, side reins flapping.

      She walked toward the man from within the pen, her stomach already churning. Never mind the way he moved—fluidly, each step deliberate and yet barely contained. Never mind his expression—so alert, so intense—or the very direct way he approached her. She could have closed her eyes and still known him as Sentinel. As a jaguar.

      That was one of her mother’s legacies. The connections, whether she wanted them or not.

      He was close now, close enough to see that his eyes weren’t black at all, but a deep, startling blue. Close enough so the terrified gelding fled to the opposite side of the pipe panel round pen, snorting and grunting his fear.

      She slipped between the metal rails and straightened as he came to a stop. She didn’t give him time to speak. “I know what you are. Who you are.” She felt it in every fiber of her being, a strange reverberation that raised the hair on her arms. “You’re not welcome here.”

      He lifted his chin ever so slightly. Instead of resentment or disappointment, interest flickered in those eyes. “You think you know what I am.”

      She fought the urge to take a step back. Nothing but cold metal pipe behind her. “I know enough.” She wouldn’t make the mistake of listening to Sentinel words—to Sentinel requests. Especially not from this man.

      He eased closer, off to the side, as though looking at her from a slightly different angle would somehow improve his perception of her. “I didn’t know your mother.” The morning light flashed against his eyes, bringing out their clarity; it skipped along the angles of his cheek and jaw and got lost in the gloss of thick black hair. All black, so wrong for this climate…black jeans, black leather biker jacket. “But I know of her. We all do.”

      She snorted. It wasn’t delicate. “Right, because she was your patsy. She let you talk her into dangers she shouldn’t even have been near.”

      At that he shook his head, short and almost imperceptible. “Not I.”

      “As if it matters,” she said, bitterness leaking through along with disbelief. The noises of the ranch folded in around her—horses calling to each other in reaction to the gelding’s fear; human voices raised as they queried each other, pausing in chores. They were her family now, the people who worked rescue with her. And they didn’t need this interference any more than she did. “You know what? I’m busy. And you’re scaring the hell out of this horse. Go away, Sentinel.”

      “He’ll get used to me,” the man said absently. “They do.” He shifted again, still watching her. Still giving her that shivery feeling, the same one she’d felt all morning. He’d probably been watching her that long. Abruptly, he crouched, resting his elbows on his knees to look up at her. Damned well settling in. “I haven’t yet done what I’ve come for.”

      “You probably think it’s important, too.” Something to do with saving the world. With asking too much, just as they’d asked too much of her mother—whatever it had been. Some vital mission. Something impossible that her kind, life-loving mother had no chance to survive. “But I won’t. So, seriously. Go away now.” With someone else, she might have hidden her irritation, taken the blunt edge out of her voice. But this man…

      She felt as though she already knew him. As though he made no attempt to hide any of himself from her, and as though she had no need to hide herself in return, not even to soften that bluntness.

      And so when he started, “The Atrum Core—” she didn’t let him finish. She knew the Atrum Core organization held the bad guys; it seemed as though she’d always known. They were ancient power mongers, sucking energy from the land to use for themselves, never heeding the cost to the earth or individuals. She didn’t need to be told again, and she especially didn’t need to hear what he wanted her to do to fight them. The Atrum Core had been out of her mother’s league; they were far, far out of hers. She held up her hand, and he stopped. He didn’t like it, but he gave her that much—here on her own land, her own turf.

      “I,” she said, each word distinct, “do not care. Do you really think there’s more to it than the little incestuous battles between the Sentinels and the Core? Do you think it matters to the rest of the world? Because if so, you need to get out more often.”

      She expected to make him angry, to set those eyes flashing. She expected a retort…she’d even hoped to send him stomping off in reaction. But he only watched her for a long moment, hands relaxed.

      She didn’t expect him to say, so quietly, “Your mother was not a patsy. She was a hero.”

      Unexpected tears prickled at her eyes and nose; her throat tightened. Ten years old she’d been when her mother died. Ten. And she still didn’t know what had happened that night. Only that her mother had been wearily satisfied with what she’d accomplished—and then she’d gone off to lead the Core astray. Alone. “Yeah, well, guess what. I’m not. Not a patsy, not a hero. Your people are users and liars, and they’re not getting both of us.”

      His hands tightened briefly into fists, then opened again, a deliberate effort. He stood, abruptly enough so she stiffened in response. “You’re right. They can be both of those things.” He looked at her as though she weren’t wearing old jeans and scarred boots and plenty of barn dirt, her dark hair escaping from its sun-streaked ponytail in spite of the ball cap she wore. He looked long enough that she suddenly wondered what he saw. He added, “But I’m not.”

       Not like that. Sure.

      Her throat hadn’t loosened yet. Her words came out hoarse and a little desperate even to her own ears, though every bit as intent as they’d been the first time. “I want you to go.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ