4: Out for a Run

SASHA POV

“Well, this is nice. They furnished it for us and everything this time,” Rika remarks as we enter the townhouse WASP has secured for us to use during our time in Columbus. We landed not too long ago on a private aviation company’s airstrip. One of WASP’s fleet vehicles, a mid-sized SUV with all the bells and whistles, was waiting for us, and Zoe drove us here; the address was already in its GPS.

“Which is good, cuz I need to sleep for like twelve hours,” Zoe grumbles. She’s exhausted, and I can’t say that I blame her.

“The two of you can take the master,” I tell them, looking at the townhouse’s specs on my phone. Rika shared the file with me at some point since we received our marching orders from Anselm. “Place has three bedrooms. I’ll take one of the smaller ones, and the other can be Rika’s tech hub.”

“Sounds like a plan. They might already have it set up that way,” Rika replies hopefully. Zoe and I are already headed for the stairs to the second floor, where the bedrooms are. The ground level is an open-concept kitchen/dining/living space, featuring a bay window, a fireplace, and a door to a cute little fenced patio. It’s totally cookie cutter, and everything inside is beige and white. Not my taste at all, but it’s not my place. We probably won’t be here very long, anyway.

Upstairs, I immediately choose one of the smaller bedrooms. It’s already outfitted with blackout curtains, a lofted bed, and furniture and bedding in various shades of purple.

“Whoever gets these set up for us definitely knows our tastes,” Rika observes. The other small bedroom has a black couch, blackout curtains, and walls lined with desks and power strips, waiting for her to set up all of her equipment. The master bedroom is all blues and grays, Zoe’s preferred palate.

“Beautiful,” Zoe mutters, face-planting into a sky blue pillow on her king sized bed. “Bedtime.”

“You do that. I’m going to go for a run,” I decide, stepping around the corner in my bedroom to change into cropped leggings and a tie-dye sports bra.

“A run? Really? We just got here,” Rika protests, quietly closing the door to Zoe’s room. Technically, they’ll share it, but since Rika doesn’t sleep, right now it belongs to Zoe.

“According to the information we were looking at earlier, those lycans that live in this complex frequent a nearby metro park. And I slept most of the way here.”

“I guess there’s that. I’ll drive you over there, then.”

“Are you sure? You can stay here—”

“I know it’s a straight shot across this property’s fence into the metro park, but we should do these things the right way, and I know you hate driving. Plus, if a situation with the lycans develops, it’s better for you to have backup.”

“There’s only three of them. No situation could possibly come up that I couldn’t handle.”

“I’m driving.” She’s made up her mind. I’m not winning this argument. “I’ll stay in the parking lot while you take your run and do whatever spying and so on you have in mind, but you’re not going alone.”

“…Fine. Help me braid my hair?” I’ve finished changing, but my hair is rather the worse for wear from all the napping on the plane.

“Absolutely. We were going to want to do that before dealing with the vampires, anyway.” Rika’s cold hands join mine in working my hair into braids that lie flat against my skull and are easily gathered into a knot on the back of my head. This is my preferred hairstyle for executions. It keeps my hair out of whatever mess I make.

“Do you have a plan for that worked out yet?”

“More or less. We’ll go to the bar our scouts have identified as the hotspot tonight. Treat it like a normal night out. I’ll have floor plans and everything else for you by the time you’re done with your run. We scope the place out, figure out where the criminal activities are happening, and then Zoe and I will lock you in with the troublemakers. Standard procedure.”

“Yippee.” Part of me wishes it would be a more challenging job. Depending on the number of vampires, it might be a little dicey, but nothing beyond my capabilities. Another part of me wishes I didn’t have to have any part of this, that I could leave this job and all of WASP behind.

“I know. You’re all done. Let’s get you to the metro park and you can run out some of that frustration.”

I wish there was someplace human-free we could go instead, so I could run full speed. As things are, this is going to be a long run. I don’t even actually care if the lycans are in the park or not. Running has always been my favorite part of training. Once I hit my stride, the rest of the world fades away and it’s just me and the trail—no Anselm, no WASP, no problems. My love for and dedication to running has made me the fastest runner with the most stamina of any of WASP’s special operatives—not something expected of a feline shifter. We typically specialize in ambushes and sprints, which are also favorite tactics of mine, but for me it would never do to stop at typical.

Fortunately, it’s not a long drive to get to the metro park. True to her word, Rika remains in the SUV while I get out and stretch. She managed to set it up with high speed internet and several of her favorite toys on the drive from the airstrip to our lodgings, so she has plenty to entertain herself. Typically, Rika streams true crime media while she gathers data on our targets, the surrounding area, locations of local blood banks, and whatever else strikes her fancy. She’ll be fine for however long I decide to run.

I select a trail and set out at a reasonable human pace, enjoying the steady rhythm of my feet on the ground and my breath. It’s still early in the morning; there aren’t many people out, and the ones who are seem to be mostly athletic types. I can pick up my pace a bit without arousing any suspicion, which I do. It’s still too slow to be really challenging, but I’m grateful for what I can get. I’m not here to attract any attention from anyone, least of all for appearing to be anything other than a normal human.

My expectations for Ohio weren’t high, but the forest in this park is really lovely. It’s the beginning of autumn, and the leaves are starting to turn. There are misty patches here and there; it rained here not too long ago, and parts of the trail are quite muddy, but it’s no trouble to avoid them, as long as no one is around to see me jump over them. My long jump and vertical jump are both well beyond the usual scope of human capabilities, even in my human form.

The mock fitness tracker on my wrist, actually a device I use to communicate with Rika and Zoe, buzzes. Lycan sighting in parking lot. How soon can you be here?—Rika

Soon. Trail makes a loop. I’m on my way back in.

Damn it. I had honestly been hoping, deep down, that they wouldn’t be here this morning, that this could be something I did just for me. But I guess I’ll be doing some spying this morning, too.

I slow down as I approach the parking lot again, from a somewhat different place than the starting point of the trail I set out on. If at all possible, I would prefer to see my targets without being seen by them.

The only vehicle in the parking lot, aside from the nondescript WASP vehicle in which Rika is currently hiding, is a massive red pickup truck. Around it stand three young men who look distinctly like the three lycans we suspect are our primary non-vampire targets for this mission, all in gym shorts and running shoes, no shirts, all stretching. Even from the edge of the woods, I can hear them; they have no care for stealth, or the fact that it’s still fairly early in the morning.

“How hard we going this morning, boss?” the one with the mohawk asks.

“Easy on the trails. Hard in that field we found way out, if it’s dry enough,” replies the one with short dark hair.

“You know the drill. Nothin’ unusual,” the one with dreads adds.

“Dunno why we bother,” Mohawk whines. “It’s not like we can train all out here.”

“Better than nothin’, though.”

“We can always race, if you wanna make things interesting,” Short Hair offers.

“We all know how that ends,” Mohawk grumbles. “No thank you.”

“Coward.”

A younger me would have challenged Short Hair to a race. As things are, I still don’t want them to see me, if I can avoid it, and I certainly don’t want to give any of them a reason to remember me. Not yet. This is strictly reconnaissance. Instead, I wait for them to choose a trail and start running, then follow at a distance, purposely keeping my footfalls as light as possible. They shouldn’t hear me, as long as I keep my steps light and my breathing in check, and with any luck, they won’t smell me, either, even with their lycan senses.

As they run, their conversation continues. Mostly it’s Mohawk gushing about some band they’re planning to see tonight, at a bar called Tipsy Griffin’s. Maybe the girls and I will have to go barhopping tonight, if the vampires don’t take long to deal with. The other two seem much more serious about training, although Short Hair makes a comment about hoping that they make some new acquaintances tonight.

“You mean, young ladies with mate potential?” Dreads teases.

“Who else?”

“Best things come when you ain’t lookin’ for them.”

“We’ve all been waiting more than long enough, don’t you think?”

“It’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen,” Mohawk interrupts. “For now, let’s focus on the awesome music we know we’re gonna get tonight.”

A sickening knot settles in the pit of my stomach. I know exactly why Anselm chose us for this job. We’re the only special ops squadron comprised of only attractive young (or at least, young-looking, in Rika’s case; she’s 78 but her body is frozen in time at 23) women. Lycans don’t know for sure whether they’ve found their mates until they kiss them for the first time. For that reason, and because they’ve been looking for their mates for so long, if any of them are attracted to any of us, it will be extremely easy for us to get them to tell us anything we want to know.

I lack the words to describe how much I hate Anselm.

The lycans turn off the main train on to a narrow deer path. I continue to follow them at a distance, though Mohawk’s discourse on whatever band they’re seeing tonight is bordering on inanity. The deer path makes its way, with a few twists and turns, to a large, open field. As soon as they emerge from the trees, Short Hair breaks into a dead sprint. Damn, he’s actually fast. Maybe fast enough to give me a run for my money. I crouch in some undergrowth off the deer path, at the base of a large tree. If anything goes wrong, I can be twenty feet up the woods side of the tree in two seconds, and they’ll never find me. In all the years I’ve been doing this, no target has ever had the sense to look up.

Now that they’re in the field, all three of them seem to be training with far greater intensity, not just running but pushups and martial arts and other exercises, with more speed and power than normal humans exhibit. I send Rika my location, wondering if this is far enough off the main trail to be legal by WASP regulations.

Not an established trail. Technically still part of the park, but not anywhere anyone goes regularly, except maybe park rangers, Rika responds moments later. So far they’re behaving themselves. Anything unusual?

Talk on way home, I reply. I don’t do much messaging on the job, although the wrist device makes it very easy to spy and text at the same time. I prefer to work without distractions.

Although they’re certainly powerful and fairly well-rounded in their training techniques, these lycans don’t have the stamina Rika, Zoe, and I do. They pause in the middle of the field for a breather well before we would be allowed to take a break in a training session at HQ. All three of them are panting, muscles shining with sweat in the morning sun.

“I think that’s solid for today,” Short Hair commends them.

“I dunno. I’m down for a couple more rounds of kickboxing,” Mohawk counters, though he seems to be the most out of breath of the three of them.

“Wear yourself out too much and you’ll be too tired to enjoy the band tonight,” Dreads warns.

I feel the breeze shift, making me upwind of them, which is less than ideal. Slowly, taking care not to make any noise, I begin creeping around the base of the tree.

“Not possible. I’ve been looking for a way to see Sleepers Awake forever.”

“I’ll spar another round with you, if you’ll race me back to—wait. You guys smell that?” Short Hair says, suddenly stock still, nose to the breeze. I bite my tongue to avoid cursing and try to move more quickly while still remaining silent. Almost there—

“Smell what, man?” Dreads asks.

“I’m not sure. It’s faint, but…it’s not normal woods smell. Nothing I’ve smelled here before. I think it’s coming from…there, by the path we took here.”

Shit shit shit. Just a little more—there. Now up the tree. I force just my hands to shift to black paws with long, wickedly sharp claws. It’s incredibly painful to do a partial shift, but the tree doesn’t have branches low enough to climb the normal way; I’ve done this dozens of times before, and I begin to climb without so much as a squeak to acknowledge the pain.

“You think someone followed us?”

Up the tree. That’s it, nice and quiet. Keep going. There. Enough branches between you and the ground now, you should be safe.

“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.” Through the branches, I see Short Hair jogging towards the clump of vegetation where I’d been hiding, watching them. The other two follow a short distance behind him. None of them seem to be making any attempt to be stealthy. Fools. Way too much time and too much warning to let me get away. As he gets closer, I hold my breath and redouble my efforts to stay very, very still. If I don’t give him a reason to look up, there’s next to no chance he ever will. Just wait it out.

“I don’t see anyone, man,” Dreads remarks as all three of them survey the area. “Don’t smell nothin’ weird, either. You all right, Drake?”

“I dunno, man. I don’t smell it anymore, either, but for a moment….” Short Hair—his name is Drake—replies, scanning the area around them with growing confusion. The pictures didn’t do him justice. He’s actually fairly handsome. For a dog, anyway. “Someone else was here. I’m sure of that much.”

“If that’s the case, where’d they go without us seeing or hearing them?” Mohawk challenges. “Callum and I haven’t smelled anything unusual, either. Maybe I conked you too hard in the head when we were sparring.”

“I don’t know how to explain.” Drake’s golden eyes are still scanning the landscape, fruitlessly searching for clues. His nostrils flare in attempt to recapture the lost, unusual scent.

“I’mma call training done for today. Think we all need a nap,” Callum decides firmly. “Let’s go. Assuming something was here, Drake, it’s long gone. But I think it’s more likely you imaginin’ it.”

“I’m not,” Drake protests, but his friends are more or less forcing him out of the field and down the deer path, back toward the main trail. I wait until I can’t hear or see them at all anymore to breathe a quiet sigh of relief and make my way, slowly, back down the tree.

Closer than I like things to be. But useful recon, all the same. Once I reach the ground, I send Rika a message asking her to meet me in a different parking lot. I’m not taking any more unnecessary risks. I’m sure she and Zoe would love to know what I’ve learned this morning. But at the same time, I won’t be upset to switch our focus to the problem vampire coven. I’ve had enough of dogs for a while.