Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (14 page)

Then I noticed Agent Booth had no scent. She didn’t smell like a norm, didn’t smell like a Were or Shifter, didn’t smell like a Witch—didn’t smell like
anything
. I bit down to prevent a growl from escaping. She hid her scent. Now I really didn’t trust her.

“Thank you for volunteering to come in,” she said, opening a faded folder, ringed with coffee stains. Some loose papers fell out and she quickly tucked them in, but not before I saw my picture. The file they had on me was thick—thicker than I’d expected, thicker than I liked—and from the state of the disarrayed pages, someone had obviously been studying it. Maybe they didn’t need to ask me about my supernatural status because they already knew. Had I been ignorant to think I got away with not fully disclosing?

Booth trained her attention on me as she waited for my response. I dragged my gaze away from the file and brought it back to her face. “Like I said on the phone—I didn’t know Landen went rogue and because he was my only contact to the SRD, there was no way for me to find out.”

“So you say.” Her tone was clipped.

I was about to launch into another defence when a knock on the door interrupted us. Booth’s expression darkened.

“Wait here,” Booth said before turning away from me. When she stepped out of the room, I got a glimpse of a young man in a dark gray business suit. His attire looked expensive and well above my pay grade. The low murmur of their voices leaked into the room. Good sound proofing. Normally I would have been able to catch their entire conversation. Booth’s voice raised a bit, edged in anger.

The door swung open and Agent Booth stalked back in. She put her hands on her hips and glared at me as if all her problems in the world were my fault. The man who’d interrupted us walked in after her. He looked excited and eager. Not good.

“Agent McNeilly, this is my associate Agent Tucker. He will conduct the rest of your interview.” She waved her hand absently at the man behind her and after giving me another dark look, marched out of the room. Tucker. The name sounded familiar.

“Ms. McNeilly.” The man addressed me and held out his hand. I stared at it, distrusting him immediately. Tucker was a norm. His frail human scent coiled around me, stirring the predatory instincts of my animals. My falcon wanted to peck out his eyes, which startled me. She was the most passive of my feras. His expensive cologne tickled the inside of my nose.

“Have I been stripped of my position without due process?” I asked. His hand dropped and he frowned in confusion. “Am I no longer an agent?” I asked.

“Oh,” he said and sat down. He tugged at his tie and cleared his throat. “As far as the SRD is concerned you were stripped of your position two years ago when you went rogue.”

“I didn’t go rogue,” I seethed. “Landen did.”

Tucker shrugged. “You got proof?”

My falcon might have her way if the man continued like this. “Your stupid protocols put me in a vulnerable position. It’s not my fault you saddled me with a bad handler and he took advantage of the situation.”

“If you had stopped to think and question your targets, you might not be in this situation.”

Struck dumb by shock, I stared at him. A sudden coldness hit my core. After a moment, I collected my thoughts. “You’re joking, right? Part of my job description is
not
to ask questions.”

Agent Tucker blinked in response. I took his silence as an opportunity to examine him further. Nothing remarkable about his appearance. Everything average—dull hazel eyes, not too tall, not too short, boring brown hair, and clear skin. His shiny Rolex watch glinted in the harsh lighting.

“Did Daddy not make you go through regular training when he handed you this job?” I asked, taking a guess. It would explain Booth’s agitation. She looked like a woman who clawed her way to the top. This man didn’t have the same look. His posturing reeked of entitlement and he looked…soft.

A red blush travelled up his cheeks. “Just because my father is the director of the SRD, doesn’t mean I didn’t earn my position.”

Bingo.
I relaxed back in my seat, savoring the scent of his lie. “Of course not.”

A knock interrupted whatever he planned to say next and saved him from further embarrassment.

What is this? A fucking tea party?

Tucker got up and opened the door to let in another man. For some reason, I liked this one on sight. He was old. Wrinkles creased his face, showing he smiled more than he frowned. He nodded at me before taking a seat beside the lie detector contraption.

“Agent O’Donnell will set up the test and then we’ll see whether you’re telling the truth.” Tucker jutted his chin out and puffed up his chest before stalking out of the room.

“Don’t let him get to you,” the old man said. His voice was crisp and clear, sounding like it belonged to a much younger man. When the scent of a coyote reached me, I smiled. O’Donnell was a Shifter.

“I never let spoiled brats get to me,” I said.

O’Donnell chuckled and pulled out tangled cords. He motioned me to come forward. I struggled to sit still while the agent strapped various things to my body that would look more appropriate in a sci-fi movie.

“Why do they bother with this machine when you can scent a lie from the truth?” I asked.

“The SRD trust a Shifter over technology?” His tone was incredulous, like he couldn’t believe I’d ask such a question.

Tucker flung the door open and glared at the old man. A coyote slipped in the room after Tucker. The younger agent turned his sour look on the animal familiar. The coyote spared me a quick glance and curled up at O’Donnell’s feet. The old man leaned back in his chair, smiling.

“Is she ready?” Tucker spat.

O’Donnell nodded instead of speaking.

Tucker grabbed a chair, flipped it around and sat backward on it, placing his face a mere foot from mine. He’d probably seen the move on a cop television show and thought it looked tough. I was unimpressed.

“Let’s get started shall we.” His expression was entirely too eager for my liking.

****

About an hour into the interview, I regretted my decision to look professional. I would give anything to trade my high heels for flip flops and the skirt for jogging pants. The chair made my butt sweat. As for the questions, they weren’t difficult. I kept excellent records and provided Tucker with a printout of all my contracts for my entire career—not just the last two years. Tucker looked like he swallowed something foul tasting. He’d given up on his tough guy act forty minutes ago.

“Are there any kills you have made in the last two years that are not on this list?”

Thankful that he had specified the last two years, I smiled and leaned in. “For the third time, no.”

Tucker bowed his head down into his folded arms and sighed.

“Agent Tucker, are we done here? I’ve more than accounted for my past activities, and unless I’m mistaken, I’ve passed your lie detector test with flying colours.”

O’Donnell smiled.

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” Tucker grumbled.

Great.

“What are you?” he whispered.

“Excuse me?”

Tucker looked up, a determined sparkle in his eyes. “You heard me. What are you?”

“I hardly see what that…”

“It has everything to do with this and will affect whether you are prosecuted or whether you’ll be reinstated as an agent with the SRD.”

Well damn
. “Human,” I said.

Tucker laughed. It sounded hollow and forced. “You’re pressing your luck,
Andrea
.”

This man was not winning any personality awards. “A Shifter,” I breathed.

O’Donnell’s head snapped up at the same time as Tucker’s. The old man’s nose flared as he scented the air. A deep ridge formed between his eyebrows as he frowned.

Tucker turned to O’Donnell and stared, his mouth forming a hard straight line.

Without checking the machine, O’Donnell spoke. “She speaks the truth.” His voice expressed his disbelief.

Tucker’s face scrunched up. “That makes no sense. There were different animal wounds on your kills.”

I shrugged, going for nonchalance when all I felt inside was twisted panic.

“You smell of the forest,” O’Donnell whispered. He said it to himself as if it made sense.

“What was that, old man?” Tucker asked.

“Nothing,” O’Donnell mumbled.

When Tucker turned back to me, I struggled to keep my face blank. It must’ve worked because the young agent scowled.

“Where’s your fera?”

My knees banged against the table and my right elbow broke my fall as I leapt across the desk—the injuries mere flea bites in comparison to what raged inside my head. There was no chance to consider the ramifications of my actions. I strained forward and ignored the pain from the machine straps and chords ripping off my skin.

Tucker’s soft neck squished between my hands. I increased the pressure. No norm asked about feras nowadays. None. Not if the valued their lives. Shifters had been the hardest hit after the Purge. Every dumbass redneck who owned a gun ran out and used feras for target practice. So many died in the first years of the purge that they nicknamed the time the Shifter Shankings. I’d been born in the middle of those turbulent years and always assumed my birth parents had been two of the casualties. Why else would I be put up for adoption?

I squeezed harder, enjoying how Tucker’s eyes bulged.

The door banged open and Agent Booth stepped in.

“Agent McNeilly stand down,” she commanded. “Release Agent Tucker.”

After a moment of staring into Tucker’s frightened gaze, where I considered disobeying orders and made sure he knew it, I released my grip. Red skin marked where my fingers had dug in. Tucker looked away, no longer able to meet the fury I knew danced in my eyes.

I wiped off my clothes after I stood up and turned to Agent Booth. The skirt was ripped from the hem to the waistband. Anyone looking would see all of my leg and a bit of my hot pink undies. Lifting my chin, I tried to look dignified. If they tried to take me out, I planned to take down as many of them as possible, starting with Tucker.

Booth ignored me and turned to Tucker, who still gasped for breath on the floor. “I told you not to ask her that,” her flat tone echoed in the room. Her gaze flickered to me. “If you’ll give me a few minutes, Agent McNeilly, I will be right with you.”

I flopped back into a chair and tried to ignore the numbness in my ass cheeks. These contraptions were not meant for long term use.

“Will you require any more of my services?” O’Donnell asked from the corner of the room. He hadn’t budged since my attack on Tucker. At all. He hadn’t run to aid his co-worker. Would he have sat there while I killed him? Probably. Who knows, he might’ve helped if I needed it.

“No, that’s all, Donny. Thank you.” Booth’s expression softened when she looked at the old man. She liked him. And that made me like her. A little.

O’Donnell unfolded and walked over to me. His coyote followed.

“A pleasure to meet you,
Carus
.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. His whiskers scratched my face. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

He smiled at my shocked expression and walked out of the room.

“Carus?” Booth asked.

“It’s a term of endearment amongst Shifters.” I shrugged it off. My heart beat rapidly and I was thankful to no longer be hooked up to the machine. It would have beeped and flashed like a Christmas display, and I’d be doomed to the government laboratories.

Rumpled and visibly shaken, Tucker picked himself off the ground and made a show of straightening his suit. Would he challenge me? Tell me I would regret what I’d done? Part of me hoped he would.

Good prey
, my mountain lion hissed.

“Agent McNeilly,” he mumbled as he walked out of the room with his head down.

I turned to the other person in the room. She observed me, watching my reactions. Once again I tried to catch her scent.

“You have no scent,” I stated.

“Everyone has a scent,” she said, flipping her hand in the air as if to say, ‘no big deal.’

I shook my head. “How are you masking it?”

Agent Booth examined her nails, smiling at her little secret. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. “And we’re not here to discuss me.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “What now?”

Agent Booth picked a chair off the ground and sat in it. “Now, we get you a reliable handler.”

“So I’m not fired?” I perked up.

“As you pointed out, you did everything right and you passed the lie detector test.” She paused to examine her manicure. “The fault and blame lies with Landen.”

“No repercussions for my assault on Tucker?”

Agent Booth snorted. “Not even his daddy dearest can defend his actions.”

A slow smile spread across my face. “Do I get to choose my next handler?”

Booth’s features appeared to pinch inward, the neurons in her brain probably making a zillion calculations. “Do you know any other handlers in the agency?” she asked. “Who would you pick?”

“I don’t know any other handlers, but if I can pick, I want O’Donnell,” I said.

Agent Booth laughed, the rich sound didn’t match her raspy voice. “I will give you O’Donnell, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You find out who Landen worked for and report back to me. Directly.” Her probing eye contact let me know how serious she was. Why did she want me to report to her? Was the SRD not the big happy family their public image implied? One thing was for sure—there was more going on and without having any knowledge, it left me in a vulnerable position.

I pulled back from the table and held my hand out. “Deal. I planned to do that anyway.”

Agent Booth stood and shook my hand. Her smile made me wonder whether I’d made a mistake asking for O’Donnell. She looked too pleased.

“Leave your number with Angie and I’ll have O’Donnell contact you.”

“Angie?”

“The tart of a receptionist they saddled me with.”

Despite my better judgment, I started to like Agent Booth.

I took a sip of my coffee and gagged. They called this
gourmet?
More like Gut Rot Blend, perfectly in sync with the café. Not much of a surprise given its location in the rough downtown Vancouver sector. But this place provided a perfect cover for observing the SRD headquarters.