Shifter Wars (3 page)

“How did you know I’m a shifter?”

I shrugged. “You’re too animated for a vamp. And you have a ‘cocky shifter vibe’ rolling off you.”

He glared at me. “I’m not cocky!”

Talia chuckled. “Right. Why don’t you show Kyle those mug shots of Haltraps, so she can maybe ID the demon and we can let her get some sleep.”

We sat down, and my phone rang, vibrating on the Formica table. I was suddenly very popular. I looked at the name on the screen. I hit reject.

Will looked up from the screen, and his eyes widened. “Was that Griffin, as in the head of the shifter packs Griffin, you just hung up on?”

“Yes, I don’t feel like talking to your leader right now. Can I see those pics?”

Fifteen minutes later, after an unsuccessful mug shot search, I walked out to the parking lot with Talia and Will. Talia climbed into the driver’s seat of a black van and screeched out of the parking lot. Good Lord, she drove like Jean Luc. Was every vamp a closet NASCAR driver?

I got into my own car and went trolling for Doyle.

It didn’t take long. Mesquite has three main casinos, so the odds were good he would be in one of them. I found him in the second one. He was perched on a stool, paper umbrellas littering the bar. If the number was any indication, he had been there for a while. Demons have a high tolerance for alcohol, so I couldn’t tell if Doyle was drunk or not.

I sat next to him and ordered a beer. He scowled at me but didn’t try to run. The bartender set my beer down, and I took a swallow before speaking. “You been making phone calls tonight?”

“What are you talking about?” His eye twitched.

“Wow, Doyle, you are such a bad liar. I don’t know why you ever thought you could be a con man.”

He snarled, “Shut up, Kyle.”

I leaned toward him and regretted it immediately. Pungent alcohol fumes surrounded him like a cloud. “Why did you make an anonymous call to the supe squad tonight?”

He shrugged. “I was afraid you would go off half-cocked and get yourself killed.”

“It almost sounds like you care,” I said.

“I just didn’t want Jean Luc and Misha coming after me if something happened to you.”

“So what was the scam tonight?”

He sighed. “The Haltrap has empathic ability, and he was sensing the human’s emotions to see if he was bluffing or not.”

“How did you play into this?”

“His empathic ability works better if other demons are around. He uses us to increase his powers by feeding on our energy.”

“So he’s the equivalent of a power leech? What’re you doing getting mixed up with a Haltrap? They’re bad news, even for you.”

He glowered morosely into his fluorescent blue drink, and his defiant posture deflated so much I almost thought he would slide off of the stool. “It’s Coleen.”

This couldn’t be good if it was about his wife. “Did she throw you out?”

“No.”

“Is she sick?” I persisted.

“She’s due for her next Kevlick cycle in March. She wants to have a child.”

I choked on my beer and coughed for a good minute. It was uncomfortable gasping for air, but it gave me time to think about what the hell I was going to say. Demons can only procreate during fertility cycles, which decreased the chance of unwanted pregnancies. Since Dalmot demons’ females were more powerful than the males, they had control over their cycles.

“That’s great. Unless you don’t want a kid?” I asked cautiously.

“Sure I do.”

“Are you afraid your swimmers aren’t up to the task?”

“Of course they are!” he sputtered.

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

Doyle reached for his drink and finished the last swallow of his fruity concoction before answering me. “I just thought I’d be in a better place by now. Coleen deserves more than a second-rate pawn shop owner. Now we’re throwing kids into the mix.”

I gaped at him. “Holy hell, Doyle, you’re having a mid-life crisis!”

“I’m
not
having a mid-life crisis. Buncha human psychobabble, anyway.”

I peeled the label off my beer before continuing. “I should have seen it coming, what with your comb-over. It’s a dead giveaway.”

His hand moved up to the top of his head. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Face facts. A strong breeze and your top hair flaps like a sail. It’s time to cut it off.”

His mouth dropped open, and I braced myself for a heated response. Instead, he laughed—a high-pitched sound like a hyena, but it was the first time I had ever heard him laugh, and it was nice.

“Fine, I’ll get a haircut tomorrow.”

“And you’ll stop running away?” I added.

He snorted. “That’s pretty hypocritical, coming from you.”

My stomach tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If Nicholas didn’t fire you, then what the hell are you doing living in Mesquite, Nevada?”

“I needed some time to figure things out,” I growled.

“And have you?” he pushed.

“Wow, I think I should order whatever you’re drinking. Alcohol makes you philosophical.”

“Now you’re avoiding the question.”

“Fine. I don’t have any answers. Are you satisfied?”

“Go home, Kyle. If I can face Coleen, you can face your demons as well.” He chuckled at his own joke and stood up, wavering a bit.

I stood, too. “I’ll think about it.” Since when did I take advice from Doyle? He smiled sloppily at me. I liked this mellow version of him. “You’re not driving anywhere tonight, I hope.”

“Nope, I have a room here. I’ll leave for home tomorrow.”

“Just remember, Coleen must love you or she would have incinerated your ass a century ago.”

I watched his retreating form while I paid my bill. Maybe now I could crawl into bed and get some sleep. I unlocked my car door and settled into the leather seat. Turning on the ignition, I sat for a second, waiting for the heat to kick on.

Nights in the desert could be cold. Nothing like Cleveland cold, but I still relied on my heater to take the chill off. Tonight I had goose bumps running up and down my arms. I rubbed my sleeves, hoping to warm up, but tensed a second later. The shiver that ran along my spine had nothing to do with the cold. Someone was watching me.

I canvassed the parking lot but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Actually, I didn’t see anyone or anything at all. Was the Haltrap back for a little revenge?

After a second, the sensation passed. Lately I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling someone was watching me. Maybe I was getting paranoid. Although after the evening I’d had, a little paranoia might be in order.

Chapter 3

The next morning, I tucked Stanley into his holster and put on my jacket. I still had an hour before my shift, but I wasn’t one to sit around doing nothing. It wouldn’t take long to poke around and find out more about the Haltrap. If he was following me, I wanted to be at least one step ahead of him.

I stopped by the casino restaurant for a cup of coffee, since I hadn’t slept well after my discussion with Doyle the night before. My limbo existence didn’t sit well with me anymore, and Doyle’s comments brought the truth front and center. As I stood in line at the counter, a voice called my name, and I turned to see Running Wolf walking toward me.

“Hello, beautiful.”

I grinned. He was a charmer. He had to be close to eighty, and he wore his age like a badge of honor. With skin browned by decades of Nevada sun and long, white hair he wore in a braid, he was impressive. Although a member of the Southern Paiute tribe, he didn’t stay on the reservation, instead opting to live by himself in the desert. He was a frequent visitor to the casino and a friend of Dwight’s, and we had become friends over the past six months.

“Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He held out his hand, directing me to a booth where a coffee mug and a newspaper sat waiting for him. We settled on opposite benches, and he gazed at me for a moment before speaking. I always let him initiate our conversations.

“I understand you had a bit of a run-in last night.”

“The mugger? It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Word is you saved Bobby Joe’s life.”

I flipped over the empty mug on the table as the waitress hustled toward us. She filled my mug and topped off his before rushing away.

“I scared the guy off.”

“Well, it’s the most excitement Mesquite has had in a while.”

I smiled. “It’s the most excitement I’ve had in a while.”

He took a sip of coffee and gazed at me some more. “Why are you here, Kyle?”

“I wanted some coffee.”

He frowned.

“You mean, why am I in Mesquite?”

“We can start there, yes.”

I shrugged. “I needed a change. I got in my car, drove here, and stopped.”

“And what made you stop?”

For some reason, I was sure he didn’t want a flip answer. “I honestly don’t know. I stopped here after being in my car for two days, and it just felt right to stay.”

“And now?”

“Now, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

He tapped his fingers on the table. “Maybe you can’t move forward until you face your past.”

“You’re the second person who’s said that to me in the past twenty-four hours.”

He smiled. “Maybe it’s a sign. I follow signs.”

“Are you a shaman?”

“Nope, but I know when it’s time to stop running and face up to the truth.”

“You never mince words.”

“At my age, I don’t have time to hem and haw about things. Just tell it straight.”

“So you think it’s time for me to go home?” I asked.

“What do
you
think?”

I huffed. “That you sound like a shrink.”

He chuckled. “A psychiatrist would charge you two hundred bucks an hour for this conversation. You’re getting off cheap.”

“You’re right. At least let me buy your coffee.”

He stood and picked up his newspaper. “Dwight doesn’t make me pay for the coffee.”

“Even better for me.” I stood as well. “Thanks.”

“Have a good trip home. I’ll see you around.”

I smiled. Running Wolf was apparently under the impression I had made my decision already.

As usual, he was right.

* * *

My packed duffels waited by my hotel door. Dwight had been his enigmatic self when I told him I needed to go home for a while. To assuage my guilt for leaving without two weeks’ notice, I’d worked a double shift. Now I was tired and hungry. It was late, so I treated myself to a chicken wrap and salad from room service.

I sat on the desk chair waiting for my food, afraid I would fall asleep if I sat on the bed. My cell rang, and I jumped. Other than the casino, I didn’t get many calls. Whoever was calling me this late better have a damn good reason. Maybe it was Griffin again.

I picked up the phone and glanced at the caller ID. The life I had been hiding from the last few months came rushing back to me in a tidal wave.

“Hello, Misha.”

“It’s so good to hear your voice, little one.”

My chest tightened. The sound of his deep, Russian-accented voice brought tears to my eyes. “You too, Mish.”

He cleared his throat, and his voice came out gravelly. “We miss you, and we need you back at work. There’s been an incident.”

I sat up straighter. “Is Jean Luc okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. It’s the Connors.”

Oh, God, not again.
“Has something happened to Trina?”

“She’s fine for now. She came home from school the other day and told her mom someone was following her.”

“Is Trina remembering anything from her kidnapping?”

“No, your memory scrub seems to be holding.”

I almost blurted out that I had her memories now, but I held my tongue. “Poor Tim and Stephanie, they don’t need any reminders of what they went through last summer.”

“They’ve asked if you will help with the investigation.”

“I’ll catch the first plane home. I won’t be able to get a flight tonight. It might take a day or so. I’ll have to drive to Vegas and fly from there.”

“I have another idea.”

“What?” A knock interrupted us. “Hold on, room service is here with my dinner.”

I opened the door to find Misha, all six foot six inches, smiling down at me with his phone pressed to his ear. “Why don’t I just come pick you up?”

* * *

I glared at Misha while he polished off every bite of the food room service delivered shortly after he showed up at my door. I ended up ordering another meal, since I wouldn’t get a bite of the first one. His demon metabolism let him eat enough food for a family of five. I didn’t bother asking him how he’d found me, since Misha was a techno-genius. He’d probably traced my phone.

As usual, his blond hair needed a trim and his perpetual razor stubble made him appear menacing. Even though his eyes were icy blue, they were warm and smiling as he reached over and ran his hand through my newly chopped hair. “Still purple, I see. I like your new haircut. I have never seen it this short before. You look like a pixie.”