Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (15 page)

Outside, the weather offered little to help brighten the coffee shop. Sporadic rays of light filtered through the dense gray cloud cover. An onslaught of rain slicked the sidewalk and a bone-numbing wind chilled the air. A perfect day to stay in bed and read a book.

But I’m here.

Suzy’s Gourmet Café provided a warmer and slightly better smelling environment than the convenience store beside it, the only other option where I could stand out of the downpour and wait for Angie. Staring out the window wouldn’t raise any suspicions here.

The anti-government, anti-shower, anti-everything patrons were too busy discussing their obscure views on philosophy to notice anything as insignificant as me. I’d just appear as another coffee enthusiast, chugging back the gut rot like it provided sustenance. If someone asked me to debate Chomsky though, I was screwed.

Angie, or Angelica as I found out earlier, was working late. I planned to follow the Wereleopard to see if she would lead me to the owner of the scent I discovered at Landen’s apartment.

Angelica?
I snorted into my cup. How pretentious was that? When I addressed her as Angie, she’d been quick to correct me—her lips curling into a sneer told me she didn’t like the nickname. I ignored her request, kept using the abbreviation and enjoyed watching her left eye twitch.

I grabbed the nearest newspaper and flipped it open with a sigh. The first article on the page fumed about humans stealing cucumbers. What next?

The paper crinkled when I folded it up and chucked it on the counter as far away from me as possible. I went back to staring at the front doors of the SRD headquarters. Maybe if I glared hard enough, I’d develop some psionic mind control and force Angie to come out to play. Personally, I’d rather watch amateur ball hockey.

“You’re drinking the coffee from here?”

The familiar voice made me jump. Coffee leaked out of the lid and splashed on my hands and shoes. I turned to glare at Clint, Mr. Un-killable.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

Clint’s massive shoulders straightened. Without a word, he held up a metallic device. After squinting at the blinking red dot on the screen of his smart phone, I realized he used a tracking app. My arm itched.

“Checking up on me?”

Clint’s slow smile spread wider. “I like to keep tabs on my pets.” He reached out to stroke my face, but I dodged his hand, hearing my old sensei bark out instructions, slip and counter. Could I get away with punching Clint in the gut? Hmmm.

“I’m not your pet,” I said.

“Not yet.”

“Look, I’m sorry about tearing out your throat, but I thought I was following orders. I’ll find out who set me up and you can find your next pet elsewhere.”

A couple of café patrons turned and stared. Maybe I should drop the volume a bit. The sleazy man who huddled in the corner of the café looked at me in disgust.

“What a shame. You would look delicious in a collar.” Clint leaned in and wriggled his eyebrows.

The laugh was out before I could stop it. “I would make a terrible pet. I’d be the kind to pee on your carpet and rake my claws down your face.”

Clint chuckled. “Your defiance is enticing.”

Ugh. Remembering his preference, I said, “I don’t do rough.”

“I can be gentle.”

“Really?” My tone came out skeptical, which I intended, but why did I feel relieved? I still had five days. “Not buying it.”

Clint frowned and took a moment to think about it. “Well, no. Not really. But I could try.”

“How long has it been since you last tried?” The front of the SRD building started to blur, telling me I’d been staring at it too long.

“About fifty years.”

“And how’d that go?”

“Not so well.”

“Figures.”

Instead of leaving me to the job I had to do, Clint pulled out a chair and sat down beside me. He stared out the window with a pensive look on his face as if trying to figure out what I’d glared at.

In an almost amicable silence, we watched the outside world go by before curiosity got the best of me. “How’d you become a human servant to a male Vampire anyway? You like blonde bimbos.”

“Being a human servant doesn’t have to be a sexual relationship,” he explained.

“It usually is.”

Clint nodded in agreement. “Usually, but Lucien is not one to make an eternal commitment for love or lust.”

“What does he make it for?”

“Power.”

Grunting, I went back to staring out the window. How would Clint make Lucien more powerful? He was a norm. It had been relatively easy for me to attack him—he was more of a weakness to Lucien. I eyed the large man again.
Unless there was more to Clint
. After all, he hadn’t died.

“You’ve been stagnant for hours. I expected to find your body. What are you up to?”

“Surveillance.”

“On who?”

“Shhh… You’re bugging me.”

Clint sighed. “The one building of interest in the area is the SRD headquarters. This leads me to question why you’re scouting out your own employer. We’ve already concluded they weren’t behind your orders. What have you found out, my little pet?”

Exhaling deeply, I turned to him, and hoping my death stare would give him the hint, I paused before speaking. “You will get your full report when I’m ready to give it. Until then, shove off and leave me to do the job your Vampire-dearest assigned to me.”

Clint laughed and pushed away from the table. “You have five more days.”

“I’m optimistic,” I said.

Clint leaned in and spoke to the top of my head. “So am I,” he said before he sauntered out of the café.

If I didn’t know how twisted he was inside, I might’ve enjoyed the view of him walking away, but I was just glad to see him leave. The man oozed confidence, power and style, but he creeped me out. He also had a secret, and one I wanted to know. If I failed in my mission, I planned to kill him. And then run, hard as hell.

Caught up contemplating what Clint could possibly bring to the table power-wise and how to off him now that I knew throat-ripping was out, I almost missed the movement of Angie’s full hips booming back and forth. When I leapt from my seat, I spilled what remained of my coffee all over my suit.

I cursed, grabbed my purse and ran out of the café into the rain. A norm would follow on foot. A Shifter or Were would’ve remained downwind and hoped the target didn’t notice. Either way, I had an advantage. I jogged to the alley and stripped, flinging off my already torn clothes as fast as I could. My skirt was ruined anyway. A homeless man living in a cardboard box whistled.

Grinning at the man covered in filth, I shifted, letting the falcon form take over. The man cowered in his box and looked away. Norms found it disconcerting to see a shift—even a fast and fluid one like my own.

Stretching my wings out wide, I took to the air and circled the block until I found my target. Her bold red, skin-tight dress underneath a clear umbrella stood out among the blacks, grays and blues of the business world surrounding her. My falcon focused on the moving red body like a mouse in a field.

She slipped with feline grace into a sleek black car and led me to a large house to the prominent, up and coming neighbourhood of Port Moody. With only so much space in the Lower Mainland, and the population spreading like a cancer to the outer regions, new money invested in this location, making it grow exponentially. People liked the proximity to the water and mountains and the direct route downtown to the heart of Vancouver. The area filled with professional couples with fluffy lap dogs instead of children. The pets probably had a more versatile wardrobe than I did.

Perching on the roof of a neighbouring building, I tried to glean as much information as possible. Multiple people went in and out of the house. Good looking people. Big men. Sexy women. All in great shape. I didn’t need my wolf nose to tell me this must be the den of the Wereleopards.

The rain eased up and I shook the excess water off my feathers. My body vibrated, itching to shift and take in the scents. If I found the one from Landen’s apartment, I was a step closer to solving this mystery and saving my ass from Clint’s clutches and the death certain to follow when he grew tired of me.

This was not a safe time to be on the ground, sniffing about. The house was full of Weres. They were probably holding a meeting. My cat would be no match for one of them. My falcon screeched into the night, the bird equivalent of cursing. Could I afford to wait? I only had five more days.

My wings hunched up and I dropped my head down between them, hoping to avoid some of the wind. Puffing my feathers out provided little insulation. I would wait until most of the Weres left. If they left. Then I’d go down.

****

It turned out Wereleopards liked to chat. Their meeting lasted hours. Honestly, what could they possibly have to discuss? Never having belonged to a pride, I couldn’t imagine what day to day business would entail. How different could it be from a pack? Why didn’t they just e-mail each other?

The meeting ended and droves of Weres vacated the building. There were still some inside, including Angie, but this would be my best chance. I couldn’t wait for another day. Swooping down to the pavement, I changed to my wolf in one fluid motion, and four paws hit the cement instead of talons. The smell of citrus and sunshine overwhelmed my nose and I struggled to discern one Wereleopard scent from another. I loped around the block a number of times. Each time I caught a whiff of Landen’s killer, the scent slipped away—either old and fading, or I’d lost my mind and tried to find something that didn’t exist. Landen’s scent was absent. Not worn out, fleeting, fading.
Absent
. Landen had never been to this pride’s headquarters.

Angie’s scent branched off in two main directions, one toward work and one in the opposite direction. Maybe her plastic surgeon? More like her Witch. I grunted and kept walking. Plastic surgery didn’t last on Weres. The body would revert back to its original form on the next shift. The Were virus went right down to the genetic level, and until they were able to splice genes and alter genetic codes, there would be no lasting nose jobs for Weres. There was, on the other hand, Witch enhancements, and I suspected Angie had a standing appointment.

Tired of failure, I made it back to the front of the house and chanced a closer sniff. The stench of dead meat and dried blood stopped me in my tracks. My senses sharpened. It took every ounce of self-control to stop the growl that rumbled its way up my throat. Vampire.

A door inside the house slammed shut and a murmur of voices grew louder, heading toward me. I didn’t want to get caught. My wolf scent would be all over the yard and they’d know someone sniffed them out, but not who. Angie didn’t know my wolf scent, only my human one, which meant the intrusion couldn’t be tracked back to me. Shifting to my falcon, I flew into the night. Safe, for now.

Wick stooped over his computer muttering, too engrossed in what he was reading to notice I arrived back at the wolf lair. He looked up and smiled when I cleared my throat. The sight of those shining pearly whites caused something to constrict in my chest.

“What are you up to?” I cocked my hip against the counter and crossed my arms.

“Doing some research.” His smile grew. “Andy-style.”

“On what?”

“Cats.”

“Excuse me?”

“Big cats,” he explained. “Like you.”

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense.” My tone made it clear it didn’t.

“Well I have been thinking about what you said,” he paused. “About us not being together.”

“You listened?” Alphas had a way of ignoring what other people said if they didn’t like it—stubborn to the bone.

“I did. And guess what I found out?” His expression riddled with excitement.

I flopped down on the chair across from him, exhaling the air in my lungs in a big whoosh. “What?”

“Big cats are not monogamous. We don’t have to worry about your cat mating with another.”

“Wick…” I started.

“No. Listen to this. According to Preter-Pedia, cougars are solitary and adults meet for the sole purpose of reproduction.” Wick referred to the online encyclopedia that specialized in information relevant to preternatural groups.

“Wick…” I tried again.

“If we mated, your cat wouldn’t interfere with it, because she wouldn’t try to life bond with another.”

“Wick, being a mountain lion
Shifter
…” I stressed the name. “Is not exactly like being a mountain lion. Like being a Werewolf isn’t like being a wolf.”

Wick frowned, taking a moment before renewing his attack. “Has your cat ever tried to mate with anyone or given the inclination she wanted to?”

That made me pause. My cat definitely let me know when a man appealed to her, but that differed from what happened between my wolf and Wick’s. “Well, no.”

“Have you met any feline Weres or Shifters?”

“Yes.” It came out slowly, like a hiss. I’d killed a few. Did that count?

“Do they have a mating bond like Werewolves?”

“Not that I know of. They’re more serial monogamists,” I explained. How the hell would I know? Just because supes limped out of the closet eighty years ago, didn’t mean they openly discussed their business. The Shifter Shankings had given everyone else fair warning of the ramifications for such actions. All preternatural groups kept a tight lid on their secrets.

“Did your cat like any of them?” He asked in a matter-of-fact way, as if the answer wouldn’t upset him. Maybe it wouldn’t. Personally, I hated hearing about a boyfriend’s past relationships. Though I knew the women were in the past, I’d still feel a twinge of jealousy. Okay. More than a twinge. Wolf’s don’t typically share, and I knew Wick’s wolf must be growling in his head, but nothing showed on his face or scent besides optimism and hope.

I shifted in my seat. “A couple.”

“Like your wolf likes mine?”

I had to look toward the ceiling and away from Wick’s intensity. “No,” I breathed.

“Well?”

Wick’s attention weighed on me, causing my wolf to pace and whine to be let out. “Well what?” I said to the light fixture.