Circus Wolf by Lynde Lakes Page B

been
un-caged for the first time—swiftly, liquidly, and with ferocious purpose. As
she passed, with slanting and fiery emerald green cat eyes, she sent him a
fierce side-long glance.
    He figured she was still upset about the chaos of
tonight’s performance with the Bengals. He understood, and wanted even more
than she did, to avoid any further conflicts between him and her cats. Or her.
    The caravan security lights illuminated her reddish
blonde hair with streaks of golden highlights. Her locks were mussed as if
raked angrily with those long, blood-red dagger fingernails. The sweat on her
upper lip revealed a body-heat he dare not contemplate without consequences.
Her outfit was black, but the white cursive lettering printed on it proclaimed I love pink . He shook his head. Even her
clothes were a contradiction.
    She had barely left Caravan Row when Skull ran by,
also wearing all black. He seemed to be keeping a trailing pace, not gaining,
not falling behind as though following her. His cape flowed dramatically behind
him like the staring villain in a horror movie. Hugh tried to like everyone,
but Skull reminded him of the evil in his past. And the man was standoffish and
weirder than most of the other entertainers. What was the guy up to? Hugh
hoisted himself to his feet. He had to join the jogging parade to find out—and
to keep Tigra safe. He shook his head.Could
he survive as Tigra’s protector without losing his heart—or his life?
    ****
    Tigra headed through the ghostly white veil of fog
that curled about the edge of the circus grounds, moving swiftly through the
soft muted colors of the night toward freedom and, if lucky, discovery. She had
a hunch if anyone connected with the circus had stolen the gold arrowhead, they
would have stashed it one of the caves. The sooner the thief was uncovered the
sooner the police would move on to something else. And if the thief was also
the killer, Rolo and Candy’s deaths would be avenged and her secret would once
again be safe.
    Increasing her pace, she left the road and entered
the hilly wilds of Shandon Hills. She inhaled earth, vegetation, and rotting
wood. The mountain’s lower foothills were dotted with a camouflage of low
concealing brush and according to Hugh, a scattering of rocky caves—a perfect
refuge for wolves, tigers, even vampires. Tigra squinted into the shadowy
darkness. To
ward off her fear of the possible danger waiting in the caves, she forced
everything from her mind but her goal: find the golden arrowhead.
    She hadn’t gone far,
when, with her tiger-sharp hearing, she heard a twig snap behind her and then
the crackle of underbrush. Her already pounding heart quickened its pace and
her nerves grew tauter by the second. Instinct and the knowledge a thief and a
serial killer was operating in the area alerted her and she moved deeper into
the shadows. Fear fluttered in her gut and goose bumps rose on her arms. Even
the moaning wind wailed a bleak warning. Fog floated in vaporous layers about
the tree trunks. Ahead were two huge granite boulders and beyond that a series
of caves. She should have brought one of the tigers with her. Should she morph into
a tiger now? She’d learned to shift back and forth at will. But occasionally
the shift failed.
    Edging forward more slowly now, she listened to the
haunting gusts and moaning lament. She sensed the foggy darkness was alive with
danger and she had the heart-thumping feeling a supernatural creature was
nearby. She raked her fingers through her wild mane. She sniffed the air and
caught the scent of mustiness. Her flame hair, even in the night’s foggy haze
probably caught enough light to make her too visible.
    She spied a cluster of moon
poppies. She’d read on the Internet during her research on werewolves that
devouring the moon poppy, which bloomed only in the night, could possibly ward
off or prevent the cursed transformation for the night. But would it work for a
tiger caught in the world of duality?