She worked off her anger by lugging boxes. She, Cassidy, and Diego carried boxes and pieces of furniture from porches to Iona’s truck, and then to the porches of the houses that the Shifters were moving into. Cassidy, as pregnant as she was, carried plenty, though Diego was after her to rest a lot.
Iona offered to carry the boxes all the way into the houses, but her offer was declined by their owners—politely but firmly. She was to set everything on the porch and come no farther inside.
“Why?” she asked Cassidy when they took a breather. “You’d think they’d welcome the help.”
“Shifter secrets,” Cassidy said between sips from the bottle of water Diego had brought her. “If you were just visiting, that would be one thing. But they’re clearing out their houses from top to bottom, and want no one outside their clan to enter until they’re settled.”
“You’re talking about the underground spaces Eric wants my company to build in the new houses, aren’t you? And the Shifters don’t want me to see what’s in them.”
“They don’t want me to see either, or Diego. Every pride, pack, and clan has its own space, and even the Shiftertown leader doesn’t get invited in. We have to keep something of ourselves totally private.”
“I understand.” Iona was curious, but she’d respect their wishes.
The Shifters they helped, though, didn’t seem to worry about invading Iona’s privacy. They asked about her family and who her Shifter parent was, gave her frank and assessing stares, and openly sniffed her. No one was aggressive, only curious, but very much so. She admitted her father’s name after some initial reluctance, but no one had heard of Ross McRae.
The sniffing bothered her though. The Shifters would lean close to her and inhale, then give her another grave stare and nod.
They were checking her scent, Cassidy told her, because Eric had scent-marked and mate-claimed Iona. They were acknowledging that Iona belonged to him.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” Iona said irritably.
“Doesn’t matter. They still know to keep their hands off.”
Luckily—or maybe it was planned—they never saw Graham or the few Lupines who’d come down from Elko with him.
By the time Iona drove the last load and returned home with Cassidy and Diego, it was late afternoon. Eric was there, with Jace and Shane, who were both giving him advice about tonight’s fight.
Eric listened to them while he sat on the edge of the couch, arms on knees. Listening, not arguing.
When Iona walked in, Eric was off the sofa in one fluid motion, moving to her side. He pulled her close, nuzzling her hair. “I missed you,” he said.
She’d missed him, she realized. More than she really should have.
Iona turned her head, and Eric covered her mouth in a warm kiss. The others in the room kept talking together, as though they didn’t notice.
Diego and Cassidy fixed another magnificent meal, and they ate in the living room, sitting around on couches, chairs, and the floor, in Jace’s case. Jace filled in Cassidy about what they’d found out at the compound, and then Shane and Jace turned the conversation back to the fight.
“The rules are simple,” Shane said. “You can fight in any form you want—human, animal, or between—but no weapons allowed. No one can enter the ring to help you once the fight starts, and when the referees declare the fight over, it’s over. That’s about it.”
Eric nodded, taking it in as he ate Diego’s fabulous pollo en mole verde. “As long as Graham follows the rules, we’re fine.”
“That’s why you have seconds,” Shane said, “to make sure both sides follow all the rules. We have to make sure you do too, Eric.”
“I get that. I asked Diego to be my other second—humans are allowed to be, right?”
“Sure,” Shane answered. “Humans go to these things all the time. They can be seconds, even refs, but they can’t fight. Way too dangerous.”
“Dad,” Jace said from where he sat on the floor, his empty plate on his lap. “I thought I’d be your second.”
Eric shook his head. “I don’t want to give Graham any excuse to get near you, or to blame you if the fight goes wrong. I don’t even want you there tonight, but I have a feeling you won’t bother obeying that order either.”
“No, because I don’t like Graham anywhere near you. He’ll try to take you out, Dad. If not in the ring, then afterward in the parking lot. I’m not letting you go unprotected.”
“How about if I ask you to stay here and keep watch over Iona?”
“Forget that,” Iona said. “I’m going with you.”
Eric growled. “Do none of you understand how dangerous McNeil is?”
“We’re all going,” Cassidy said. “Get over it, Eric.”
Eric growled some more, but said nothing. Iona sensed his uneasiness, his conflict over what to do. She understood why he wanted his family out of harm’s reach, but on the other hand, he wanted them close where he could watch over them, and where they could all protect each other. It had to be hell being so paranoid.
“About time to go, then,” Diego said, ever practical. “I’ll grab Xavier on the way. I’ll try to talk my mother out of coming, but I can’t guarantee she’ll listen.”
Eric’s blood was hot by the time they reached the location of the fight club.
He’d always known where it was, tucked deep inside an old casino resort, about thirty miles outside of town, that had closed years ago, too remote and expensive for anyone to buy or redevelop. The advantage was that the road to it wound around manmade hills that screened the abundance of vehicles and milling Shifters from any cop passing on the highway.
Eric had never attended the fights, wanting his Shifters to be able to work off steam without worrying about hierarchy or what their leader would think. Eric pretended not to notice the majority of his Shifters disappearing any given night, and they pretended to think he didn’t know. He trusted his people to keep themselves in line and not get caught. He also trusted his trackers, like Brody and Jace, to keep everyone relatively safe.
The dark parking lot was already packed with vehicles by the time Eric and his party arrived. Iona drove Eric and Shane in her truck, the right half of the little pickup listing from Shane’s bulk in the passenger’s seat.
Eric followed Shane through the hordes of cars and people to the other side of the resort, where a wide space on what had been a golf course had been cleared down to the dirt. Circles were marked here, five of them, so more than one fight could occur at once. The darkness was broken by fires flickering in trash cans, and in fire pits or grills people had brought with them. Some had brought lantern flashlights or battery-powered work lights—in short, anything portable that didn’t need to be plugged in.