Skin Walkers

by Susan A Bliler

  “Sissy?”

  Little hands grabbed both sides of her cheeks as her face was pulled until her nose was pressed against Fena’s.

  “Sorry, Bubba. Guess I zoned out.”

  “You’s always zoning.”

  Fena rolled away to grab one of her dolls and Briel felt guilt bite hard. She needed to do better, and she vowed to. Once she got the money from Monroe, she’d take Fena as fast and as far as she could from Washington, DC with all its politics and plotting. With any luck, the men who’d killed her father would give up and wouldn’t look for them. Honestly, there was no reason to. She had no idea what her father could have been involved with that could have gotten him killed aside from those…Skin Walkers.

  Just the thought of them sent chills blasting up her spine.

  The General called her into his office one day, and it’d been so out of character that she’d hurried to Capitol Hill in record time. When she arrived, her father had secluded them in his office with almost paranoid care. It had scared her. Her father feared no man and no thing, but that day, he’d been different. He’d locked the door and unplugged his phone, his laptop, his computer. His e-pad and smartphone were taken to another room, and she’d watched as he’d circled the room pulling several small devices from under tables, lamp shades, and beneath window sills before crushing them under his scuff-free dress shoes. When he finally sat in the chair closest to her, he’d pulled her seat even closer and spoke almost too quietly.

  At first, she’d thought he was lying. He told her of shapeshifters, and how they were gathering at secret locations. It sounded so damn ridiculous that she’d wanted to laugh, but she knew the General too well. He didn’t have time for stories and make believe. So instead of laughing, she nearly puked at the reality of what it all meant. He’d shown her video seized from the lab of what she could only assume was some military affiliate called the Megalya. The footage was shocking. There was a man being strapped down and tested on. He looked human enough, naked from his jean-clad hips and legs up except for a thin silver band around his throat. One of the male nurses, or technicians, or whatever in the hell they were, had failed to strap one of the man’s arms down securely. She’d watched in horror as that arm jerked free and changed right before her eyes. Claws shot through the tips of the man’s fingers and fur-covered muscles enlarged. He’d cut through the technician’s throat like a hot knife through butter before ripping himself free. Once he stood, his body broke and morphed into some sort of massive cat. It was like something from a sci-fi movie. The four other technicians were ripped apart in seconds before the beast changed back into a man and opened the door before stalking out and off camera.

  As if that, hadn’t been startling enough, the General also informed her that he wanted to introduce her to someone. At first she’d balked, unsure why she—a regular citizen—should ever have access to this information, let alone be pulled into some covert meeting. But when the General wanted something to happen, it did. That night, she’d met a man. Monroe StoneCrow. She remembered thinking his name handsome and the man even more so. Monroe strode into the room exuding a predatory grace that made Briel instantly rethink her sudden crush on the him. His mere presence commanded respect, but something was different about him. Something felt very…off. She’d studied him quietly after she’d been introduced, and when her eyes landed on the thin silver band around his neck, she’d gasped and recoiled.

  The primal glint in the arctic blue eyes that watched her over lips twisted into a smirk told her he knew that she knew exactly what he was.

  In typical General fashion, her father dismissed her fear with an irritated wave of his hand, rattling off personal information regarding her and Fena to Monroe. At first she’d been appalled, arguing fiercely with her father. A lot of good it had done. As usual. Apparently, the two were working together against a common enemy, the Megalya she’d seen trying to hurt the man in the video. No, not a man. Skin Walkers, Monroe called them. Beings with the ability to shift to animal form at will. While the idea was fascinating, it was more terrifying than anything else. On the video, a Skin Walker had slaughtered four men in a matter of seconds, and a monster just like that one was standing within reach.

  At the end of the meeting the General informed her that Monroe would be her contact if anything should happen. She’d resolved then and there to never contact the Skin Walker for anything. She’d been deeply offended that the General thought she’d simply trust a stranger, especially a stranger with the abilities this one had. Worse, she’d been so adamant in her stance against ever complying that she hadn’t paid enough attention to her father’s warning. A highly-decorated military General, her father was invincible in her eyes. It wasn’t until she’d seen the news coverage of his disappearance that she realized she’d made a grave mistake. A mistake she wouldn’t make again. Within the hour she and Fena were tucked into her car and barreling toward the metropolis of D.C. with plans of melting into the masses. She wasn’t a military mastermind like her father, but she knew enough to know they’d be safer in the city. The more people the better. She’d ditched her car, cell phone, and credit and debit cards. Luckily, she’d just gotten paid and had cashed her royalty check the day before, but that had been three months ago. Three months secluded in the hideaway the General had provided. While the pantry had been well stocked, she and Fena had gone through most of the canned goods and were now relying heavily on the boxes of MRE’s in the cupboards. It wasn’t ideal. Worse, the longer she stayed, the more she felt like the enemy was closing in. She didn’t know who or what to watch for, so she and Fena mostly stayed inside, but today she’d decided they needed to move. And to move, they needed money.

  Leaning forward, she planted a kiss behind Fena’s ear and smiled when her sister giggled. Crawling out of the tent cave, she snagged the burner phone she’d bought with some of her rapidly dwindling cash from the bedside table. She didn’t use it for calls at all. Nope, internet only and even then she was cautious. She wished she’d listened more when her father droned on about technology and how easy it was to track people down. She was careful with her phone though, and was certain there would be no way for anyone to track her location even if she did log into the PayPal account she’d created to see if Monroe had wired her funds.

  Shit! Still a zero balance, but she knew from sending funds to her editor that the transaction could take up to a few days. Deflated with the requirement to wait, she padded to the kitchen to pull out some of the hideous MRE’s. It wasn’t t-bones, but it’d do.

  Chapter 3

  Tyce sat behind his desk, already fully aware that Monroe was on the premises and headed straight for him. It was irksome. The two Dominants avoided each other at all costs except for those rare occasions when they collaborated on a mission or in the recent case of the attack on StoneCrow Estates. Tyce didn’t care for Monroe, not as a fellow Dominant Skin Walker and not as an individual. Monroe was too conniving, too near-sighted when it came to the rapidly depleting Skin Walker population. Procreation. It was Monroe’s one goal, and it was juvenile. Where Monroe had built a fortress where his Walkers could mate and procreate in safety, Tyce’s compound, Apex, was more like a military barracks. Hoarding weapons, training his men, and fighting their enemies occupied his time. After all, why create more Skin Walkers? So they could be slaughtered? It made no sense. No, they first needed to exterminate those who hunted, captured, and experimented on Skin Walkers. That was the only priority. Why hide from the humans and Megalya when Skin Walkers could annihilate them? They were the superior species after all. On several occasions Tyce had advocated for all-out war, but Monroe had rallied against him. As Monroe had put it, Skin Walkers were out-numbered and outgunned. The loss of a single Skin Walker was unacceptable in Monroe’s eyes, which meant that he would avoid war at any cost, even if it meant trying to control Tyce. Tyce knew Monroe had been searching for a weakness in him, any weakness. There was none to be found. Unlike all the other Walkers who Monroe brought to
heel by manipulating said Walker’s mate, or Angel, Tyce was proud to be without an Angel, without any form of personal attachment save for his relationship with the Sentries who chose to follow him into battle. Battles that happened to cost a small fortune, and had forced Tyce to expand into other ventures to fund his missions. Let Monroe merrily skip about, forcing happy endings for his Walkers. Tyce would remain firm in his goal to eradicate Skin Walker enemies.

  Without knocking, Monroe entered the office flanked by his Chief of Security, King Mulholland.

  Offering a grin that tugged on the recent scar bisecting the left side of his mouth, Tyce couldn’t help but goad, without bothering to stand, “Monroe. I see you still require a bodyguard.” His smile broadened at the dark scowl Monroe shot him before Monroe claimed a seat in front of the desk.

  “I have a mission. I need your assistance.”

  Direct and right to the point. It was actually one of the few things Tyce appreciated about Monroe. The two were polar opposites in everything, including appearance. Where Monroe was jet black hair, ice blue eyes, and crisp business suit that matched his attitude, Tyce was more laid back. While the men sported similar hairstyles, short on the sides, longer on top and slicked back in a formal manner, Monroe’s was a mop of inky black where Tyce’s hair was sandy blond. Often, people mistook Tyce’s eyes for blue, because from a distance that’s how they looked, and at a distance is how he liked to keep people. In all actuality, his eyes were a strange silver color, a color few would get the chance to ever see up close and personal.

  The scars on his face were new, badges he’d earned in a recent rescue attempt gone awry. Unlike Monroe, Tyce actually preferred to participate in the various missions he commissioned for his Walkers. The last one had earned him a knife wound down one side of his face. It interrupted one dark eyebrow and extended onto the cheek below. As if that weren’t bad enough, a second injury was sustained on the same side of his face, where his lips had been slashed by an errant claw in the thick of the battle. C’est la vie. There were worse things than having one’s pretty face marred in battle.

  Dressed in dark slacks and matching button-up shirt with sleeves rolled to mid-arm, Tyce looked downright casual compared to Monroe’s starched dark slacks and pressed suit coat.

  “Aaah.” Tyce leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk. “Finally realized that you need a true Dominant’s aide?” He didn’t wait for a response. “What’s the mission and what do you need?”

  “There’s a female…”

  “Of course there is,” Tyce cut him off. “Isn’t there always where your missions are concerned?”

  “It’s not that kind of mission. This female is different.”

  “And your Sentries won’t do?”

  “Most are mated,” Monroe muttered, feigning annoyance.

  “Yes,” Tyce smiled. “That damn affliction thing. Finally coming back to bite you in the ass, eh?”

  Monroe rolled his eyes as if he’d anticipated Tyce’s antagonism. Leaning back, the dark-haired Dominant relaxed in the chair, propping an ankle on his knee while pulling a bright red apple from his pocket. He made a show of slowly shining it on his sleeve before sinking even white teeth into the fruit.

  Tyce merely smirked before sliding a desk drawer open and pulling out an orange. He wore an amused grin as he dug a thumbnail into the rind and began peeling; the only sound in the room was Monroe’s chewing as he watched Tyce in annoyance.

  Fitting. Apples to oranges. Preservation versus domination. The two Dominants were alike in so many ways. Both intelligent, both calculating, and both self-serving; however, the differences in their leadership styles were vast, and so insurmountable that they couldn’t even reside at the same compound.

  Coolly, Monroe offered, “This female has Intel on the Megalya safe house.”

  Okay, that piqued his interest. “The safe house?”

  Monroe grinned and Tyce knew he’d sounded too interested. He couldn’t help it. He’d been searching for the place for some time now.

  “Yes. That safe house.”

  Months prior, Monroe’s Skin Walkers, with the aid of the Keepers, had battled the Megalya and defeated them. There was one lone survivor on the enemy’s side. Sam. Tyce knew her because she’d actually infiltrated Apex—Tyce’s compound—by seducing one of Tyce’s men, Remy McCabe. As a prisoner, Sam hadn’t talked, and now that Bellis StCroix had claimed her, he’d taken his Angel into hiding, leaving the Walkers to find the Megalya safe house on their own.

  The safe house was rumored to hold several Walker prisoners, but that wasn’t what interested Tyce. It was the purported tens of millions of dollars kept at the site that had Tyce’s hands itching for Monroe’s Intel. The Megalya didn’t want to take the chance of ever being traced, so all transactions were done in cold hard cash. Which meant that, somewhere, the proceeds from the sale of Walkers was sitting unprotected. And Tyce wanted it.

  Monroe’s steely tone drew Tyce’s attention. “I need to find those prisoners.”

  And I’ll take the money. “Sure.” Tyce’s wheels were already spinning. “I can provide a team, but it’ll cost you.”

  Annoyance flashed across Monroe’s features and the sound of clenching teeth carried through the room. “The rescue of Skin Walkers and the preservation of their lives isn’t payment enough?”

  Tyce smirked. “Maybe for you. I need something a little more…tangible.”

  They both knew he meant payment from Monroe.

  “Fine,” Monroe clipped out, “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

  Just to be clear, Tyce voiced his demand. “I get paid for the job, and I want the cash I find at the safe house.”

  Monroe’s eyes hardened to sharp pinpoints of ice. “You’re a greedy bastard, Tyce Steele.”

  “Yes.” Tyce didn’t even bother denying it. “I am. But if you want my aid, that’s the price. You get a woman and rescued Walkers, and I get paid and I keep the Megalya cash. Do we have a deal or not?”

  “You heartless prick!”

  Tyce was back to smiling. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Fine!” Monroe barked.

  “What do I need to know?”

  “D.C.” Monroe responded without preamble. “You’ll need to send a Sentry that’s versed in wealth. She’s a spoiled little thing. A wealthy brat who’d scent a fake a mile away. None of your boys’ll do.” There was a pregnant pause before Monroe offered, “I’ll see if Mason will…”

  “Fuck off!” Tyce sneered, insulted at the implication that neither he nor any of his men would fit the bill. “Send me the Intel you’ve got, it’s all I’ll need from you.”

  Standing, Tyce strode to the door, pulling it open and turning to stare pointedly at Monroe.

  “Well,” Monroe looked from Tyce over his shoulder to King. “Guess that means we’re finished here.” Standing, he buttoned his jacket as King followed him to the door. He didn’t look at Tyce as he passed. “I’ll expect a report as soon as you’ve located the woman.”

  Tyce snorted, and as soon as King crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut. He had no idea that in the hall, Monroe’s face cracked into an all-out smile.

  Chapter 4

  Briel frowned hard at the small screen of her phone. Damn it! Two days and still no money in her account. She was getting restless and apprehensive, and was angry with herself for not knocking out a book before all hell had broken loose with her family. She’d been in the middle of a manuscript when her father had died, and then everything had happened too quickly for her to even think about work, not that she would have been able to concentrate. Worse, she had money in savings but was afraid to access it now for fear of being found. She’d been certain Monroe would help, but surely the money should have deposited by now. Unless… Unless Monroe hadn’t sent her any. The thought was reeling. Honestly, she had no way of knowing if she could actually trust him. Her father was dead and for all she knew, Monroe and his…people had done the killing. She throttle
d a frustrated growl, turning to Fena where she was seated on the bed staring at the girlie cartoon ponies on the TV.

  She needed a plan and fast, because each day they spent holed up in the condo felt like another day the enemy was inching closer. Smoothing a hand down the back of her short hair in a nervous gesture she’d adopted as a girl, Briel crossed to her purse and pulled out her wallet. A quick count of the cash inside made her belly tighten. Sixty-three dollars wouldn’t get them far. It certainly wouldn’t get them anywhere near as far away as they needed to be. Fearful eyes turned to the windows surrounded by luxurious drapes. It was surreal to be surrounded by such opulence and be so broke at the same time. Pacing to the window, she pulled the heavy navy material back a mere fraction and peeked out onto the darkened street. Rain pattered softly against the concrete reflecting the street lights that shone dimly through the foul weather. Tomorrow. She’d have to take the chance at accessing her account and clearing out all of her funds, but it shouldn’t matter if she rented a car and hit the road right after…right?

  ***

  Shortly after midnight, the phone on Monroe’s desk rang. It was a call he’d been waiting for. His eyes locked on where King sat prone on one of the couches in front of his desk. Monroe snatched up the phone and answered before it could ring again. “Talk!”

  “Tyce and his crew just landed in D.C.”

  Monroe smiled at Remy’s news. “Stay with them. Contact me as soon as he has the woman.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Monroe hung up and couldn’t hold back his laugh.

  “Crow?” King eyed his Dominant with a worried expression.

  Still beaming, Monroe’s eyes narrowed on King. “Tyce is in D.C.” He shoved back from the desk. “Get your team ready. I want you gone in ten.”