Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (10 page)

The solitude gave me too much time to reflect on my life. Since I started working for the SRD, I merely existed. Working on finding my humanity after thirty years of living like an animal. No goals for my life except to survive and get from point A to point B, like my car, moving from one hit to the next. Sure, I enjoyed the simple things in life, like chocolate and sleeping in on rainy days, but that wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

I’d wanted to find my birth parents, to learn what I was and how to control it, but once the SRD hired me, I never had the opportunity to pursue it. I should’ve found a way to access the sealed files years ago. Now, I might never have the chance.

Vampires only wanted healthy, fully recovered prisoners for two reasons. One, they lasted longer under torture; and two, they tasted better. Facing what would most likely be my imminent death, had me thinking, wishing, but most of all regretting. I was born with the great gift of shifting, which came with the added bonus of an extended lifetime. And I used it to do what? Capture and kill supes for the government? The same administration that withheld information from me?

Not all my fault.

No. Dylan had twisted my lifeline and spat me back out on a different path.

Regret was a nasty emotion. It didn’t smell good either. During the remaining portion of my captivity, whenever I was allowed out of my room, a number of Weres wrinkled their noses in my presence and kept their distance. They could think what they wanted. I refused to correct them. Not even Wick.

The car pulled up and stopped in front of the solid wood, double door entrance. Two Vampires who looked like they belonged to the goon squad opened the car doors. Both Caucasian with dark hair slicked back and wearing black tailored suits with sunglasses. At night.

Vampires were all about image, but I still made fun of people who wore sunglasses inside or at night. I disliked them on sight. The scent of dead meat wafted off their skin.

“Get out,” one of them said.

I shimmied over and exited the vehicle as gracefully as possible with my arms bound. My hands shook, and I clasped them together behind me. Sometimes I didn’t like to be the centre of attention. This would be one of those times. I didn’t look over at Wick as a matter of pride. His anxiety rolled over the entire pack. I didn’t like knowing Wick worried; it didn’t help my nerves or my situation.

My chest hurt and I had this insane need to pee, even though I’d gone before we left. The Vampires led me through a grand foyer. It looked like I expected—lavish, expensive and overdone. Lucien had many lifetimes to accumulate wealth and he spent at least some of it on his interior decorating.

When I entered what must’ve been meant as a grand ballroom, I knew right away which Vampire was Lucien despite the crowd. He looked like an Italian model. Maybe he was at one point in his life. Vampires never gifted immortality to the ugly and probably had a rule in their Vampire Code on the matter.

Lucien emanated power and my heartbeat picked up in response. The other Vampires in the room lined a red carpet that led to his throne-like chair, their bodies leaning slightly toward him. The two cookie-cutter Vampires dragged me down the runway between the rows of minions while Wick followed close behind. The situation oddly reminded me of medieval courtrooms where criminals were hauled in front of their king before he bellowed, “Off with their head!” Not good. Definitely not good.

Surveying the room made things worse. My heart gave up its racing speed and settled into a hard lump in the middle of my chest. No way could I escape a pack of Werewolves and a horde of Vampires. There had to be at least fifty supes in the room. Their dead scents flowed in the air currents.

Most of the guards had handguns strapped to them in holsters, some carried semi-automatic rifles and two of the ones we passed at the main entrance had bows and arrows.

My arm twitched in pain at the thought of being shot again in falcon form. Not a pleasant thought.

My charm and charisma would have to get me through this.

My stomach dropped.
I’m doomed.

Allan stood directly to Lucien’s left. He probably heard my entire inner dialogue. We made eye contact. He winked. Yup, he’d heard it all. After envisioning punching his face in, he rewarded me with a toothy grin.

“Andrea,” Lucien’s said in a smooth velvet voice, bringing my attention back to him. Every other head in the room turned toward me.

“Lucien.” I dipped my head in formality. “Is there a title I should use?”

A dimple appeared on Lucien’s porcelain skin when he smiled. No fangs. Good sign. He didn’t plan to eat me…yet. “Lucien is fine,” he said.

An awkward pause stretched as we considered one another. I still didn’t know what he wanted with me. This night would be a long one if someone didn’t start talking. “I hear you have some questions for me?” I asked.

“Who do you work for?”

“The SRD,” I said. When everyone in the room stiffened, including the wolves, I frowned. “Surely you knew that?” I looked over at Wick. He had his head down, but his brow furrowed. He hadn’t known. He must’ve thought I worked as a mercenary.

“I did,” Lucien agreed. I looked up to see a thoughtful look on his face. The knowing smile on Allan’s told me how he’d found out.

“You really dug around in here.” I tapped my head. Allan grinned.

“You would have me believe the SRD sanctioned a hit on a human?” Lucien asked.

I shrugged. “It’s not my job to question. I received the order from my handler. It seemed odd, but I carried it out.”

Lucien leaned forward in interest. “And who would that be?”

“Who?” Nice. Play dumb.
Maybe he’ll be lenient on me if he thinks I’m an idiot.

Allan chuckled and shook his head.

“Your handler,” Lucien sighed.

He could torture it out of me, of course. But he probably already had that on the agenda. I tried not to think about what else Lucien planned. “Why are you so interested in a norm anyway?”

“An excellent question.” Lucien snapped his fingers. A figure who’d been standing behind him moved.

Clint stepped into the light.

If it weren’t for the vice-like grip on my arms from the Weres beside me, I would’ve toppled over when I staggered. I squinted at Clint. It didn’t make sense. He stood perfectly healthy and unaided, his neck unblemished.

“Ah fuck,” I said.

Lucien’s slow smile spread across his face. It didn’t make me feel warm or fuzzy. “I believe you are acquainted with my human servant?”

“How?” I asked.

“Human servant,” John hissed into my ear. He may as well have tacked on “you idiot,” because that’s what his tone implied.

I shook my head, ignoring John. My attention remained glued on Clint. “I tore your neck out, human servant or not, that’s hard to survive.”

“It was.” Clint’s voice was raspier than I remembered. “Thanks for that.”

“Nothing personal.” I offered a smile, only to be met with a blank stare.

“When I recall your behaviour in my hotel room, I’d have to disagree with you,” Clint said. “That was very…
personal
.”

No amount of forceful thinking could stop the warmth spreading through my cheeks, and Allan’s knowing grin only made it worse. I could smell Wick’s outrage behind me. My brain clamped down on any thoughts of him before Allan could pick more from my brain.

“I’m inclined to agree with Clint.” Lucien’s brows bunched together and his lips puckered out in a classic “angry model” look. Reading emotion on a master’s face never meant anything good. It meant they’d lost their tight grip of control. “Attacking my human servant when he didn’t break any of the SRD’s pitiful human laws is a personal attack on me.”

“I was following orders.” My voice was firm.

“Ah, but whose?”

I frowned. He had a point. I worked off the assumption Landen relayed the SRD’s orders. He could’ve gone rogue, taking orders from someone other than the SRD. The muscles in my body tensed as I came to a conclusion. I’d been played.

My vision stained dark red. I wanted to smash something. My brain tingled while my animals within howled. I felt the stirring of the beast and quickly squashed it down in order to become detached. I looked at Lucien.

He must’ve seen my fury, because a slow, mean smile spread across his face.

“I’m not sure, but I plan to find out.”

Lucien looked over at Allan, the Vampire lie detector, who gave a slight nod.

“Yes, you will.” Lucien walked the few steps down from his throne to stand in front of me, before running a finger down my face. His touch was cold, like ice, and despite the gentleness of his motion, I had to squash the instinct to bite his hand.

Not prey
, my cat hissed. A prickly sensation radiated down my spine. My feras screamed to attack and get away. The need to flee kicked at my instincts and it took all my willpower to keep two feet planted firmly on the ground.

“Let me be perfectly clear,
Andy
, you owe me a debt for this insult,” Lucien said. As a Vampire, Lucien would’ve detected the spike in my heart rate and the smell of fear emanating from my skin, but he continued talking as if oblivious to my internal struggle to flee. “And if you don’t provide me with answers in a week, you will be Clint’s new toy. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Say it,” he hissed.

“Yes. I understand.”

Lucien transferred his gaze to Wick. “Have her chipped and keep her close.”

Wick nodded and grasped my upper arm, giving it a little tug.
Time to go.

Clint stepped in before I had a chance to turn away. “You’re mine.” A promise of what he planned glinted in his expression.

A painful memory from my past echoed Clint’s words.
Dylan’s voice rasped against my soul, “Andrea McNeilly, you are mine.”

I shivered.

In any other district, the old brick multi-storied warehouse would’ve been a heritage building, but this was Gastown, the rundown part. The inhabitants were a homeless mix of drug addicts, criminals and the mentally ill with a population of unhealthy-looking sex trade workers that could’ve fit into any of the previous categories.

I stood on the street and looked up. The windows of the building had long been broken, likely from crackheads and other delinquents looking for a place to squat. The last owner had boarded the windows before they gave up and abandoned it. Multi-coloured graffiti added ‘character’ to all the exposed surfaces within reach. The layers of tags upon tags brightened the otherwise drab colour of the old, washed out and neglected bricks. There was a faint smell of fetid urine, and I knew from experience it grew stronger in the summer months.

This building had been the perfect location when I met with my handler. I didn’t know where Landen lived, what his surname was, or hell, if Landen was his real name. After becoming an SRD employee, I was given Landen as my primary contact so I could go off the grid.

I couldn’t shake the feeling my current plan would essentially peg me in the ass with a homing beacon and expose me to anyone who wanted to find me. Did it matter now? There was already a giant target on my back. All Lucien had to do was say the word and I was done. Nothing scared me more than being controlled by someone again—trapped,
owned
.

Focus on one thing at a time.

Right now, I needed to find Landen. When we were first assigned to each other, we’d gotten shamelessly drunk and fooled around. Well, in truth I got him drunk to learn more about him and to find out where he lived. With a performance worthy of an Oscar, I’d insisted we go back to his place.

When I returned to the townhome a week later, he was gone. His scent erased and left with no other clues, I couldn’t track him. He ditched and cleaned the place as a professional precaution, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did. I’d thought my charms were invincible. My plan to learn more about my only point of contact failed, but it served as a bitter reminder of the world I lived in. Trust no one and no one trusts you.

All I knew about Landen was his physical appearance, his slightly floral scent, his preference for boobs over booty and where we met. Here. Since he conveniently left all my recent calls unanswered, my plan was to back-track his scent using my wolf—she was an excellent tracker. If Landen covered his tracks like he did years ago, my sole lead would be gone.

I ducked under the police caution tape
—
like that stopped anyone—for some crime committed in the past. The police had given up long ago on the case, without bothering to remove the tape. The metal double doors for the main entrance hung off their hinges.

Squatters had made this building their home until unusual sounds and animal sightings, a.k.a. me, scared them away. This place was now avoided like a hooker with a skin disease.

When I got to the room where I’d met Landen previously, I stripped down and neatly folded my clothes. I placed them in a pile on top of my shoes so they would touch as little of this place as possible.

The wolf form came easily—muscles stretched and bones snapped into place. I instinctively inhaled my surroundings and instantly regretted it. This building might smell bad as a human, but it intensified to something far worse with the heightened senses of the wolf. My fur shook as I exhaled the vile air.

There were so many different scents. I picked up the one unique to Landen and huffed in relief. He’d grown complacent. I sniffed the air again, targeted Landen’s trail, and followed it out of the building.

A wolf loping around the downtown core didn’t raise any alarms. For one thing, I wasn’t beastly huge like Werewolves and two, this city was riddled with coyotes and I looked pretty similar. Besides, the inhabitants of this area knew to look the other way and not ask questions if they valued their health. Most saw what they wanted to see—a slightly oversized coyote looking for food.

There had been an unfortunate incident years ago where an elderly lady thought I was a stray, rabid husky and called the SPCA on me. I was locked behind bars with a horny malamute and fed no-name dog chow for three days straight before I managed to escape.