Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (23 page)

The door to the Wereleopard’s house swung open and I bit back a cheer. Angie walked out in a skin tight, hot pink dress. The square neckline emphasized her ample breasts and clung to her perky butt. Did this woman own anything casual to wear? She should buy stock in spandex brands.

I kept my eyes trained on her and watched as she sauntered to the garage. When a sleek black leopard emerged and disappeared into the shadows ten minutes later, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Wick:
Tits McGee has left the skank shack.

His reply was swift:
You have a way with words. I’ll send someone for your things.

I climbed out of my clothes and tucked the undies into my sweatpants. I’d no idea who he would send and the last thing I wanted was someone like John handling my delicates.
Gross.
I placed my cell phone on top and shifted into my falcon. There’d be no more communication with Wick. I was off the grid. Spreading my wings wide, I launched into the air. There was no point following Angie through all her backtracking and switchbacks. I knew where she headed.

****

Angie didn’t arrive on the North Shore from the SeaBus until well over an hour later. I couldn’t track time well in falcon form, but I could count SeaBuses. One arrived every fifteen minutes and four had come and gone before Angie and her hips promenaded off the commuter ferry. She wasn’t alone.

Flanking her on each side were two robust Vampires. My falcon couldn’t scent things like my wolf or mountain lion, but I’d bet my government paycheck they weren’t Lucien’s.

Angie now wore a leopard print dress with a black fuzzy trim and a sweetheart neckline. It clung to her body, showing every curve with its tight fit—no surprise there.

When a sleek black car, probably a Mercedes, pulled up, one of the Vampires reached over and opened the door for Angie to climb in. The car pulled away and left the Vampire escort behind. They must have another car around to follow, but I wasn’t going to stick around to learn insignificant details. I took to the air and trailed the car with Angie.

****

Night descended, and with no more SeaBuses to count, I’d no idea how long I trailed the car before they pulled up to a large building that fit the word ‘estate’ better than it did ‘house.’ Three more cars drew up behind it—all sleek and expensive-looking. Not being a car person, if asked to elaborate on their description, I’d say they were black and shiny with silver trim.

The house sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Strait of Georgia. Circling the house, I watched Angie leave the car and swivel her hips into the house guarded by large men dressed in black. One day I would like to meet a Master Vampire that outfitted his guards in a different colour, like lime green or bright fuchsia.

I recognized the area. Off Marine Drive, this neighbourhood contained the filthy rich and picturesque parks. Angling in the light wind, I banked my little falcon body toward the nearest green space. The shift to wolf was swift and not wanting to lose any more time, I loped in the direction of the house. I knew I had the right place a block before I got there. The air went from sea salt and pine to saturated with the tang of blood and death. Lucien’s unique scent was not entangled in the odour. This was the visiting horde. Pushing my excitement back, I circled the block before I dared a closer look. Sentries paced the surrounding area, but I slipped by them unseen. Although wolves weren’t as common to this area as coyotes, the sentries would check it out first before raising an alarm if they caught my scent, giving me enough time to escape.

A familiar smell reached my nose when I loped closer to the house—citrus and sunshine—more specifically, the same big cat from Landen’s apartment. Faint but present—and all the proof I needed. My wolf stood still and drank in the Wereleopard’s essence. A rich bouquet wrapped around me with a heady effect and my mountain lion surged up, demanding a change. I stopped the shift before it could start.
What the hell was that?

My cat hissed in frustration. She wanted out.

Shaking my wolf head to clear my senses I trotted a little closer. Now was not the time to pussy out. Pun intended. Sitting across the street, hidden by the shadow of another house and massive trees acting as a pseudo hedge, I watched the estate. Not much to see, but there was no way I’d risk going in to find the killer. I had enough information.

An unexpected sting pierced me behind the ear and my hind leg sprung up by instinct to scratch it.
Fucking mosquitoes.

What is that pounding?
Oh God. It’s in my head. Back in human form, I forced my eyes open to slits, and then shut them quickly.
That stings!
Taking a moment to pull out of the grogginess in my mind was like swimming through dense sludge.

When I rolled onto my belly, the insides of my stomach continued to roll, even after my body stopped. I clamped down on my tongue. Taking long breaths, I swallowed repeatedly to prevent the flux of vomit threatening to surge up and escape. Counting to ten didn’t work, so I continued until I reached one hundred.

Carefully, I pried my eyes open to stare at the ground, which was some sort of hard metal flooring. It smelled cold and clinical. Propping my body on all fours, I closed my eyes and waited for my quaking stomach to settle before I dared move again. I sat back on my butt and splayed my legs out in front.

Another wave of nausea floored me, but I ground my teeth and refused to part with the nice dinner I had earlier. Scratching the burning itch on my neck, I replayed my actions. The last thing I remember was using my hind leg to scratch what I thought was a bite. Not a mosquito, then—a tranq dart. I hated tranquilizers. They made me nauseous.

No shit
.

I faced a wall, which told me nothing besides the lack of interior decorating. With a groan, I managed to shuffle around with a series of bum shimmying moves that would’ve made a gymnast cringe. The sinking feeling in my gut wasn’t from the side effects of the drugs alone—it was also from a deepening sense of impending doom.

I’m fucked.

I sat in a six by six foot holding cell: three of the sides cement, and if I had to put money on it, thick enough to withstand a Were. Bars made up the last side of the cell and the chains attached to massive pegs in each corner of the room confirmed my suspicions—this was either an S&M room designed by some minimalist freak, or it was a Wereproof cell. Lots of packs used these to contain Weres shifting for the first time, or ones that lost control of their beast and, of course, Weres considered enemies of the pack. I knew which category I fell into, despite not being a Were.

On the other side of the bars, more cells ran off the main room. Although there were no windows and this was obviously a basement, someone had gone to the effort to make the main sitting room comfortable, equipping it with oversized couches, tables, benches and what looked like well stocked bookcases. The only exit appeared to be the staircase on the far side of the room. Escape would be difficult, if not impossible.

I looked down at my arm to find a bloody bandage. The tape holding it down pulled at my skin. I ripped it off and it took a minute for me to register the two-inch incision stitched up on my arm.
Right where my tracker had been
.

A door slammed. High heels clanked heavy on the stairs as someone walked down into the room.

Angie.

She wore a skin-tight, knee-length dress in a purple satin-like material. It looked great on her, and it told me I’d slept through at least one night since she’d changed outfits.

A growl escaped my lips.

Hers curled up in response. “Agent McNeilly.”

“Angie.” I kept my response stiff.

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s Angelica.” She moved gracefully over to the couch and sat down. “But I suppose you call me Angie to get under my skin.”

I made a show of looking around my cement cube prison before I wrapped my hands around the bars. “The punishment doesn’t exactly fit the crime. Overreact, much?”

The delicate trill of her laughter filled the room, and she covered her mouth as if embarrassed it escaped. When she dropped her hand, her expression transformed into something more serious. “If I were going to lock you up for annoying me, you would’ve been caged the moment you walked into the SRD office.”

I shrugged.

“No. You’re here because you botched your assignment to kill Clint.”

“Pertinent information was left out.”

“That human servant nonsense?” She waved a noncommittal hand in the air. “You were on a need to know basis. Besides, you should’ve figured it out.” The look she gave me could only be described as scornful. “You’re supposed to be a professional.”

“There was a strict deadline.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, instinctively. I unfolded them as soon as I realized how defensive the posture looked. I didn’t have to explain anything to her.

“And now you’re here to redeem yourself? Scoop up information and run back to your new master like a good little pup?” The sneer transformed her face into something less attractive.

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

Angie frowned. “What do you mean? I’m a Wereleopard.”

I spread my arms and waved them around the room. “You work for a Master Vampire, too.”

Angie’s body straightened as if she was a marionette and the strings controlling her were pulled taut. “That’s different!”

“Because you have no choice?”

Angie nodded.

“And you think I have one?”

Angie’s gaze cut away and her tiny hands balled up into fists. Her body vibrated with anger, so strong the scent of it hit me in waves. “You screwed everything up!” Angie hissed. “If you had done your job, Clint would be dead and Lucien would be weakened.”

“And then what? Your master would take over the city and let you go?”

A red flush spread across Angie’s face. “No. He’ll never let us go. But he will let our pride leader come back to us.”

“Where is he now?”

“Here…and there.”

I raised an eyebrow at her vague answer.

“You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Oh, Angie. I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

“Did you come here to gloat then?”

“To get answers. I know it will go against all of your training, but I suggest you answer them. You don’t want to experience their other forms of…interrogation.”

“Riiight.”

She shook her head.

“Well let’s summarize and save some time. You are controlled by the Master Vampire Ethan Monroe. He had you contact Landen to put a hit on Clint because he wanted to weaken Lucien in order to gain control of his territory. To clean up loose ends, Landen was killed by someone from your pride.” I stopped to gauge her reaction. Nothing. Flat eyes regarded me from across the bars. “How am I doing so far?”

Angie rolled her eyes and motioned for me to continue.
Bang on, then
.

“I took out Clint, but he didn’t die. I was captured by Lucien’s Werewolves and tasked with finding the person behind my orders or face eternal enslavement and some fucked up forms of torture before a long, drawn out death. I tracked Landen, discovered he was killed by a Wereleopard. I called it into the SRD, discovered he went rogue and when I came into the station to clear my name, I’m greeted by you. A Wereleopard, like Landen’s killer. I followed you and discovered the connection to Ethan.” I looked up at Angie. “Did I miss anything?”

“Yes.” She smirked. “You missed the part where you got caught…again.”

“I thought it rather obvious.”

“The story doesn’t end here.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. “I hope you’ll fill me in on how it ends.”

“For you? Not good.”

“Another loose end? Surely Ethan must realize the mess is now too big to clean up with a broom and rug.”

“It’s the principle. You failed him. And you might provide information crucial to his plans.”

“I don’t know anything important about Lucien.” I chose my words carefully, not giving a direct lie Angie could smell.

Her lip quirked. “That’s what I said.”

A door slammed, causing us both to jump. Angie spun around and looked up the stairs. “I haven’t finished.” Her voice was commanding.

The soft footsteps continued down the stairs, undeterred from the icy glare on Angie’s face. The waft of death and decay hit my face before the Vampire came into view. He wore all black and his dark skin tone and black wavy hair gave away his South Asian heritage. He walked up beside Angie and regarded me with cold black eyes.

I didn’t register the gun until he lifted it and shot me.

When my vision cleared and my stomach stopped doing flips like a dolphin on crack, I drew in a deep breath and surveyed my situation.
Not good! Not good!

Stop panicking, I ordered my brain.
Stay calm to stay safe.
I repeated the mantra until my breathing was under control and reopened my eyes. I lay naked on an operating table in a cold room that looked like a set from a hospital television drama.

My ankles and wrists, shackled to the corners of the table, splayed me out like a stunned snow angel. There was a smaller table to my left that I could barely see over my shoulder. It glinted with metallic objects I didn’t want to think about.

Images of Dylan leaning over me with a sick gleam in his eye and a random ‘utensil’ in his hand clogged my throat with an influx of stomach acid.
Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t…ahhhh!
I turned my head to the side and spewed the contents of my stomach until nothing was left except the dull ache and aftershocks of dry heaving.
Fucking tranquilizers.
I tried to roll over, but my arms were held down.

A noise caught my attention. Someone stood in the room with me and I peered down my body to see who.

“What the hell is going on?” I glared at Angie who stood meekly in the corner. Meekly? That wasn’t right. There were all sorts of things wrong with this situation.

She didn’t look up. “I’m sorry about this.”