Her Reluctant Bear: A Hot Paranormal Fantasy Saga with Witches, Werewolves, and Werebears (Weres and Witches of Silver Lake Book 5) (13 page)

Elana reached over and touched him arm. “I wish we were.” She stood. “I need to put Aiden down. I’ll be right back.”

Brian looked at Kalan as soon as his sister disappeared. “So what’s it like to shift?” If there was a possibility that this crap was true, he wanted to be prepared.

“What’s it like?” Kalan repeated. “It is pure joy blended with total freedom. You’ll love winter, especially when it snows, and you can roll around in the stuff. You’ll have more power than you can ever imagine, but there won’t be an urge to harm anyone with your enhanced strength if you’re wondering.”

Ainsley’s eyes brightened. “As a wolf, I can run fast. I find shifting to be amazingly exhilarating and mind expanding. I spent years reining in my wolf because I feared my evil genes might force me to do something bad. But ever since I was cleansed, I’ve been going on crazy long runs.”

“If being a wolf is so great, why don’t you live as a wolf then?”

She shrugged. “Even in our shifted form, we’re connected to our human side. We value our relationships and want true love, and I’m not talking about the animal kind.”

That sounded too good to be true. “Will I hibernate if I’m in my bear form?” Never in his life did he expect to be asking that weird question.

“Not that I know of,” Kalan said, “though I’ve never tried it. I have a job and people to protect. Disappearing for months on end would certainly raise questions. Besides, in Tennessee, we don’t have the amount of snow to sustain a hibernation.”

“Well hell, maybe I should have Jillian teach me to shift just to see if I like it.” Assuming all this stuff about him being a shifter was true.

Jillian.
Her name had slipped out, but he now understood what courage it had taken her to fill him in on what he’d been missing. He hadn’t treated her well because of it, and he needed to make amends. There was definitely more to her than a hot woman. She seemed to want something from him, but she wasn’t going to push him too hard for it. He admired that.

Kalan smiled. “Sounds like an excellent idea.” He turned to Ainsley. “Now that you helped settle that, how’s my brother? I haven’t spoken to him in days.”

“Jackson’s rather bored, waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. I think after the whooping we gave the Changelings a while back, they’re now reluctant to make any bold moves. We both agree that they’ll want some kind of revenge for that defeat though.”

“They might be waiting for the red moon,” Kalan said.

Brian felt as if once more he’d been dumped into the middle of a video game and no one had told him the rules. That was twice now that they’d mentioned these Changelings, and not in a good way. “What exactly is a Changeling? Is it a witch, a shifter, or a combination?”

Elana returned without the baby and sat next to him. For the next fifteen minutes, Ainsley spun an intricate tale of deceit and magic. Even if he’d read this stuff in a book, he would have labeled it as total fiction. She then explained about these mutated wolves, called Changelings, of which she’d been one until a goddess named Naliana, along with her immortal husband James had cleansed her. There actually came a point when he thought she was pulling his leg, but Kalan and Elana added their opinion and were quite serious.

Ainsley slapped her thighs. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, and I need to get back to Jackson, but I came to tell you something.”

“I figured. What is it?” Kalan asked, his tone more serious.

“John Ernst came into the wellness center for another session with my magic needles.” She looked over at Brian. “I’m an acupuncturist, and he’s a Changeling—one who is high up in the Council ranks.” She returned her gaze to Kalan. “In order to work on him, he undressed. It so happened, he placed his cell phone on the side table. In the middle of the procedure, a message scrolled across his screen.”

“Which you just happened to read.”

She smiled. “Why yes I did. I’m not sure what it meant, which is why I’m here. It was from someone named Daryl. It said something about putting an offer in on the old craft shop.”

Elana’s shoulders tightened. Clearly, this was someone she didn’t like.

“What did Jackson say about that building?” Kalan asked. “Is that one built on top of the supposed sardonyx stash?”

“It is.”

“Then our days of the Changelings being inactive might be coming to a close.”

*

Jillian put in
another full day at the Blooms of Hope shop. Even though the hours were long and sometimes the work was menial, she enjoyed being there and meeting the customers. Everyone who stopped into the store was always in a good mood.

It was Anna who Jillian worried about. While she was sweet, Jillian wished she’d open up more. Being a lawyer, Jillian had grown good at sensing people’s desires, their moods, and their level of honesty. She truly believed that deep inside, Anna was troubled, but since she was only twenty-five, hopefully she would find her happiness one day.

As closing time drew near, Jillian went into the back room to put away the ribbons, foam, and extra boxes and vases she’d set out in the morning.

Anna touched Jillian’s arm. “Would you mind locking up? I have to take care of something and need to leave a few minutes early.”

“Sure. No problem.” Anna had just flipped over the Closed sign on the front door. As much as Jillian wanted to ask if anything bad had happened in her past to make her distant, she kept quiet. Anna would share when she felt it was the right time.

Once she left, Jillian closed out the cash register then wiped down the counters and the glass refrigerator doors. Alone for the first time in forever, she decided it was time to call Camille. Jillian felt guilty enough for running out of Los Angeles after Dalia’s death and then turning off her phone, but it couldn’t be helped. She didn’t want that horrible man to find her by tracing her calls.

Jillian returned to the back room and hopped up onto the now clear table, ready to hear the worry in Camille’s voice. Of all the people she knew in Los Angeles, Camille was the one she’d trusted the most.

About three years ago, Jillian had plans to meet with Camille at a bar on the edge of town. Camille had arrived first, and because it was a warm evening, she had decided to wait outside next to her car. Just as Jillian drove up, two thugs rushed out from some side alley and attacked her friend.

Jillian freaked. The deserted area lowered Jillian’s shield about keeping all of her abilities secret. Instead of calling 911, she slammed on her brakes and stopped in the middle of the street. Two seconds after jumping out of the car, she was behind both men before they could even see her. She managed to wrap an arm around one man’s neck while kneeing him in the back, and Camille used her police training to take down the other man.

Seconds later, the two thugs were on the ground in cuffs. Her friend said nothing until after the cops had been called and the men taken into custody. While Jillian hadn’t shifted, she had to explain her super speed.

They had their drink that night, but it wasn’t until they were back at Jillian’s house that she revealed all the Wendayan stuff. The whole concept of shifters just happened to come out. Whether Camille totally bought into the idea that an alternate form existed, she didn’t know, but Jillian suspected she did believe.

After that night, things between them changed. Camille starting asking questions about shifters and if they had any other super powers. All Jillian said was that shifters in general had a heightened sense of smell, sight, and hearing. That fact alone had Camille trying to convince Jillian to come to work for the LAPD. She said the criminals would leave town if they found out what she could do. That might be true, but Jillian wasn’t interested.

Call her
.

Jillian inhaled deeply and dialed Camille’s cell.

“Hello?”

The tentative response threw her for a second until Jillian remembered she was on her burner phone. “Camille, it’s me, Jillian.”

“Jillian? Oh my God. I’ve been so worried about you. Where are you?”

“I’m staying with my brother.”

“The brother in Tennessee?”

Camille had been listening. “Yes, though Dalton is my only sibling.”

“Sorry. I forgot. Look, I know Dalia’s death was tragic, but the detective running the case has been trying to find you.”

I bet he is
. “I need some time to myself. Don’t worry. I’m doing fine.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but don’t you want to find out who killed Dalia?”

She already knew who had murdered her friend. “Of course I do.”

“Detective Whitlaw needs to ask you some questions. Can I have him call you?”

“No!” Damn, she hadn’t meant for that to come out so strongly. At least she now had the name of the man who’d killed her father and good friend. At the moment though, she wasn’t interested in pursuing him, but Dalton might.

“Jillian, what’s wrong. This isn’t like you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“When will you be coming home? I miss you.”

If she told Camille the truth, it might put her in danger. However, this detective/killer knew they were friends. If she withheld information, Camille would see no reason not to tell him what she knew about Jillian’s whereabouts. “If I tell you something, you can’t mention it to anyone—especially Detective Whitlaw.”

“My lips are sealed. You know you can trust me.”

“I don’t know if you ever believed that I could shift, but I’m telling you the truth when I say I can.”

“I believed you. I think.”

That was the best she could hope for. “Remember how I said that my ability to catalogue smells was heightened because of being a shifter?” Some shouts sounded in the background. Damn. “I thought you had the day off.”

“I had to cover for someone. What does your ability to smell have to do with why you left?”

“I was in the kitchen the night my dad was killed.” Just saying the words had her heart beating too fast.

“I remember you telling me.”

Camille never forgot anything. “I might have only been six, but I smelled the killer and his scent has been with me ever since then.” When Camille remained silent, Jillian continued. “I smelled him again the afternoon I came to your station, but I didn’t say anything because I thought I was imagining things.”

“What? Are you saying you think the person who killed your dad was at the precinct that day?”

Here came the hard part. “Not only that, when I rushed into my house the night of the murder, I smelled him again.”

“Jillian, you were under stress. Seeing Dalia probably brought back the memory of your father’s death.”

She debated arguing with her, but if Camille didn’t believe her and then said something to Detective Whitlaw, Jillian’s life would be in danger—as might Camille’s.

“I saw the man’s scar at the precinct. It was the same crescent-shaped marking as the one my dad’s killer had.” More shouts sounded along with feet shuffling and phones ringing. “Cam, you still there?”

“Yeah. Listen I gotta go. Call me later okay?”

Something must have come up. Hopefully, Whitlaw wasn’t nearby. Shit. If he had been, she hoped he hadn’t overheard any part of the conversation. “Okay.”

The conversation with Camille had shaken her. What Jillian needed now was a nice soak in the tub and a glass of wine. After she locked up, she ran to her car and fired it up. Fortunately, the heater knob was already on high. Before she took off, she called her boss in Los Angeles and told her she needed a leave of absence. To her relief, her boss said she’d already assigned her cases, figuring that when Jillian didn’t report to work on Monday that her friend’s death had hit her hard. When Jillian returned, she’d have to take Sandra out to dinner.

Needing to return home, she headed out, but not before checking the lot to make sure no one was watching her. Once she parked in Dalton’s driveway, she rushed inside and tossed her purse on the sofa then slipped off her blue down jacket.

“Hey,” she said to Dalton who had his feet up on the coffee table, drinking a beer and watching television. “You’re home early.”

He muted his program. “I started at six. How was your day?”

She chuckled. “About the only tragedy we experienced was cutting the stems off a few flowers. You?”

“Same ole, same ole. The troublemakers seem to be on vacation. Kalan and I were just talking about how calm things have been. With the red moon coming next week, I’m thinking something will go down soon, so don’t get too used to my company every night.”

“Oh, boo.”

Dalton had kept her informed of the Changeling’s movements, and these creatures weren’t nice. If there were any of those mutant animals in Los Angeles, she was blissfully unaware. “Do you want me to make dinner?” she asked.

He looked up at her and smiled. “Will the sun rise tomorrow?”

Guess that was a yes. She’d gone shopping the other day and had bought ingredients for a tuna noodle casserole. When they were growing up, it was one of his favorite meals. Dalton was more of a carnivore now, but she bet he’d enjoy it nonetheless.

She pulled out the pan to boil water for the noodles and set out the ingredients.

“Did Brian contact you today?” Dalton asked.