Silver Basilisk (Silver Shifters 4)

“No,” Joey said, wincing slightly. “It’s more that they act . . .”

His expression shuttered, then he said softly, “Like that.”

All heads turned, Rigo’s included.

A middle-aged man in the sort of blue polyester shirt worn by many truck drivers for distribution companies shuffled dully down the sidewalk, next to a big woman in light green ER scrubs. The hems of her pants were filthy as if she had slopped through gutters, her shoes soggy. The man wore heavy boots and jeans, but they, too, looked stained.

Joey said, “They must have trudged all the way from my place.” With a look Rigo’s way, he added, “About three miles from here.”

“Look at the direction they’re going in,” Jen said. “If they keep going that way, they’ll reach the beach above the palisade. Right above the Oracle Stone cave-in.”

Joey frowned. “Maybe we ought to follow them. See exactly where they end up, and what they do there.”

“I’ll go,” Mikhail said.

Joey waved a hand. “You’re too recognizable. It feels like this should be more of a covert recon mission.”

“You’re too recognizable as well,” Doris pointed out.

Nikos spoke up, his English accented in a way Rigo had never heard before. “I’d volunteer, but I need to get back home.”

Joey said, “Understood.”

Nikos and Jen walked away.

Rigo glanced from them to the pair of shamblers. “Something about that looks familiar. Let me follow them. I did come to help as well as to . . .” He made a gesture, and noticed both the remaining posse followed his hand as he pointed to the bakery. “Fix things. Anyhow, if this is what I think it is, I might actually be able to give you that help.”

Joey said, “Good. Then we’ll take you up on that. The rest of you, more soon’s we know it.”

The group dispersed. Rigo noted doubtful frowns shot in his direction from the two women, then they were gone

around the corner.

Joey put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the Phantom. “That is one handsome automobile.”

“My boy and I rebuilt it,” Rigo said proudly.

“Really a work of art, but I feel obliged to point out that it doesn’t exactly cruise under the radar.”

Rigo chuckled. “I mean to leave it here. Come back for it. These two zombies ain’t exactly hustling. I’ll stroll a couple blocks back of ‘em.” And he began to walk after the pair of shufflers.

To his surprise, Joey fell in step beside him. Rigo said, “Ah, you have my number already, since I called you yesterday to get directions.”

“I know,” Joey said. “I’m about to be really nosy, so I’m going to apologize ahead of time. It is not even remotely my business, but if there’s any way I can help, I’d like to make the offer.”

“Thanks. But judging by the total lack of success of my surprise, it’s clear that I’ve got to let her take the lead. Just like I did back when we were together.” He smiled reminiscently. “There weren’t a dog or cat or kid in that town that didn’t have her as a champion.”

“That sounds like the Godiva we know,” Joey said. “Here’s where I’ll leave you. I don’t want to be seen, either in human or fox form.” He lifted a hand and ducked into a crowd of people going into a supermarket.

Rigo’s targets walked in a straight line, never looking back, even when they crossed streets.

His mind zapped straight back to that bakery, and his first glimpse of Godiva’s face. He’d known her at once, though he’d worried during the long drive about whether or not he’d recognize her. He knew he wasn’t much changed—that was the shifter in him, and basilisks seemed to age even slower than many. She was human, though he’d wondered since how a human form could contain a being that seemed to be part fire and part sprite.

Of course time and age were evident, but not in any way that mattered. She was still a tiny slip of a thing, with passion burning like the Texas sun in her bright black eyes.

Okay, the passion had pretty much all been sheer rage. She still had a right arm on her, tossing that tray. Oh, those hands! He sparked with the memory of her hands on his hips, the promise there, and emotion surged up, the painful weight of realization that the wrong move now would ruin everything. But he was here, walking in the hazy sunlight of this small coastal town as memory hit him with their first time alone together. Though she’d been younger than him, it was she who’d made the first move, brushing her lips across his jaw, then she’d kissed him, her heat rushing into him like a thunderstorm in July.

It was like she’d had a road map to all the pleasure points in his body—places he hadn’t even known were there. They’d communicated without words, fitting together perfectly, so perfectly. . .