“It was a way of appeasing the human masses—a means of showing them that while the shifters had won the war, they intended to treat all survivors equally.” A somewhat cynical smile touched his lips. “And it wasn’t like they could overrule the decisions of the five shifter clans who stepped into the remaining seats.”
How very true. “And Penny?”
He blew out a breath. “Shouldn’t have been there. I was on an official assignment and broke all sorts of rules, but the couple looking after her could no longer do so. I was taking her up to kin, as I’ve already said.”
I frowned. “So she wasn’t living with you at the time?”
He shook his head. “I was still a ranger; military accommodation is no place for a little girl.”
It wasn’t a place for any child, male or female, I thought, thinking of my little ones. Of the strange life they’d had before the gas took even that. “So she—and the people looking after her—were living in one of the refuges set up after the war?”
“Everyone was living in refuges in the years immediately after the war.” His voice was grim. “The humans did as good a job of destroying our camps and adobes as we did their cities.”
I hadn’t really thought about that, but then, my time during the war had been split between the constantly moving ranger camps and the bunkers. I really hadn’t seen much of the destruction—not until many years after the war had ended, anyway.
“The farmhouse is a prime example of the twisted mess a rift can make of matter, so how come you, Nuri, and Penny escaped it basically intact? How did Sal and his partners?”
“Luck?” Another smile appeared, but once again faded as he glanced at me. “The truth is, no one is really sure. Luck does play a part, but we also suspect it has something to do with the type of rift you’re hit by, and what else is in the immediate vicinity. You’ve more hope of surviving if you’re in a clearing or a field rather than a forest or near anything man-made. And you can’t be touching anyone.”
“I guess that makes sense.” I’d seen what had happened to wildlife who’d sheltered under trees and rocks at the approach of a rift, and it hadn’t been pretty. “Is the rift the reason you’re in Chaos with Nuri rather than living with your kin in the mountains?”
He nodded. “Initially, it was simply a matter of expediency—it was a means of protecting each other’s back at a time when the world feared our presence.”
Because it was believed survivors would attract the rifts. “And now?”
“We’re a good team, the money is brilliant, and I’m using the skills I was born with.” He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “Can you honestly see me as a farmer?”
I studied him for several seconds through slightly narrowed eyes. “About as much as I could see me being one.”
He laughed. It was a sound so natural, so relaxed, and so very real that it pulled at something deep inside me. I glanced out the window, fighting the tears that weirdly prickled my eyes. It wasn’t as if I’d never heard a laugh like that before; I had, many a time. It had been part of my training to make shifters feel secure enough around me that they’d unwind and de-stress, but this was the first time it had happened without the barrier of being someone else. For the first time ever, I was simply me.
And he wasn’t afraid of that, despite the history he’d had with déchet.
It was scary and wonderful all at the same time.
“How long will it actually take us to get back to the bunker?” I said, after a while.
He glanced at the clock on the instrument panel. “We should be there just before five.”
It was just past three thirty now, so we really were taking the long way home. I yawned hugely, then waved a hand. “Sorry.”
“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Jonas said. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
“You sure? An extra pair of eyes might be useful given who’s out there, trying to find us.”
“Given the extra pair of eyes are struggling to remain open, the point is rather mute. Sleep, Tiger. You may not get another chance for a while.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is that Nuri’s intuition speaking or yours?”
“I don’t have intuition. I just have my training.”
“So how did you come to the conclusion I wouldn’t be getting much in the way of sleep in the near future?”
“Simple.” The glance he cast my way heated my soul and yet could have meant anything. “You’re going back to Charles. And if you were in my bed, sleep sure as hell wouldn’t be on the agenda.”
My heart began beating a whole lot faster. “Meaning you’ve decided what you’d do if I indicated I was receptive to an approach?”
“Receptive to an approach?” Amusement flitted across his expression. “Such a mundane way of describing something I suspect will be anything but.”