Endangered

by Michelle Larkin

  Boston beat cop Aspen Wolfe gets the surprise of her life when she learns she’s a shapeshifter. Her abilities awaken as a ruthless regime unleashes its troops to eradicate the shapeshifter population.

  Forced to run or be hunted, Aspen meets Dr. Tora Madigan—a beautiful and resourceful shapeshifter who oversees an underground sanctuary. Her attraction to Tora is a welcome distraction, but the fierce lioness plays hard to get. Together they discover that Aspen is a powerful shapeshifter thought to be extinct. Her existence gives shapeshifters everywhere a fighting chance. But there’s one small problem: she doesn’t even know how to shift. With no one else up for the job, Tora agrees to train her.

  Aspen soon finds herself leading a group of extraordinary shapeshifters who are willing to risk everything to save their species. When the sanctuary is targeted for annihilation, she must come up with a game plan. Fast.

  Endangered

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Endangered

  © 2019 By Michelle Larkin. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-378-9

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: July 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Ruth Sternglantz

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design by Tammy Seidick

  By the Author

  Mercy

  Unexpected Partners

  Endangered

  Acknowledgments

  Heartfelt gratitude to my editor, Ruth Sternglantz, whose guidance, feedback, and unbridled honesty is always welcomed and very much appreciated.

  Thank you to Sandy Lowe for working her magic on the book blurb.

  Sincere thanks, once again, to Tammy Seidick for her artistic insight with regards to designing this incredible cover.

  Thanks also to my mom, Ruthie, and her longtime best friend, Donna, for keeping me company on this adventure while Aspen and Tora sorted things out.

  And, as always, the biggest round of applause goes to the very loud and boisterous superhero duo, Levi and Jett, who also happen to be my sons AND my very favorite people on the planet.

  Dedication

  With eternal gratitude for your friendship and unconditional love, this one is for you, Chloe.

  My sweet baby girl. I miss you so.

  Chapter One

  Officer Aspen Wolfe hurried out of the cramped stairwell and stepped onto the building’s rooftop, her gaze darting to the kid precariously balanced on the concrete ledge.

  The kid peered down on Boston’s busy Tremont Street with a look of wonder, fear, and longing. Winds from an approaching storm swiped the kid’s gray hood. Shaggy brown hair darted from side to side.

  Hard to tell if this one was male or female. Aspen’s money was on female, but she’d been wrong before. Taking a careful step forward, she listened to the sounds of passing traffic on the city street below. She was keenly aware of how high they were. She hated heights. Always had. The feel of solid ground beneath her feet was definitely preferable to being up here.

  “Don’t come any closer.” The kid glanced over one shoulder. “I swear, I’ll jump.”

  With nine years under her belt as a Boston beat cop, Aspen’s unconventional methods had earned her begrudging respect from fellow officers over the years. Due in large part to her success, dispatch usually saddled her with all the crazies.

  She studied the kid and pulled her hair into a ponytail with the elastic from her wrist. Couldn’t be more than twelve. Thirteen at most. Black eye, bruised cheek, split lip. She had no other information. Not even a name.

  “Tell you what,” she said, putting her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll stay right here until you give me permission to come and sit with you. I’ve been on my feet all day and could really use the break.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the two Snickers candy bars she’d grabbed from her patrol car on her way to the call. She spent a small fortune on candy bars each year, but they’d gotten her out of more than a few dicey situations. Who could resist chocolate? A candy bar took down the defenses. Instant friend maker. She was considering starting a class at the academy on how to use chocolate as a defense tactic in law enforcement.

  “You hungry?” she asked, tearing the wrapper and taking a bite.

  The kid pulled up the hoodie and looked back at her like she was nuts.

  “If you’re gonna jump”—she held up the extra candy bar—“you might as well go down with some chocolate in your mouth.”

  “I hate Snickers.”

  “Copy that.” Aspen tossed the Snickers on the ground and reached into her other pocket, still munching. The more she studied the kid, the more convinced she became this was a girl. “Butterfinger?”

  The kid shook her head.

  She dug around in the cargo pocket of her pants. “Kit Kat?”

  The kid turned away, resuming her scan of the busy street below.

  “Not a chocolate fan. Okay. That’s cool.” She was running out of pockets. Last chance. She pulled out a Skittles bag and gazed at it longingly before holding it up.

  The girl turned. “Toss it here.”

  Just her luck this kid would pick the one she’d been saving for end-of-shift paperwork. She sighed. “Do me a favor and step down, just for a minute—long enough to enjoy your last bag of Skittles. Then you can climb back up there if you want. But every person deserves a decent last meal.”

  This elicited a small smile. “You’re not like any cop I met before,” she said, finally meeting Aspen’s gaze.

  “And you’re not like any kid I’ve met before. People who think about taking the plunge into rush-hour traffic are usually older, grayer, and fatter than you.” Suicide was no joke, but she had the kid’s attention, and snark seemed the way to hold it. She took another bite of the Snickers. “You’re a few decades too early, kid.”

  She held her breath as the girl spun around and effortlessly hopped from the ledge down to the roof. True to her word, Aspen tossed her the bag of Skittles.

  She tore the bag open and popped a few in her mouth, eyeing her suspiciously. “Officer Wolfe,” she said, studying the nameplate on the breast pocket of her uniform. “Cool name.”

  “Mind if we sit?” Aspen lowered her body to the ground and rested her back against the rooftop wall. They sat there and snacked together in silence. Savoring the last chocolaty mouthful, she crumpled the Snickers wrapper and tossed it aside.

  The kid stopped chewing and stared at her. “You’re littering.”

  “What do you care? You were on your way out.”

  “But you’re a cop. Don’t you arrest people for littering?”

  “Cops aren’t perfect,” she said, rising to retrieve the offending wrapper before joining her once again. “By the way, I was saving those for later,” she admitted, casting a glance at the bag of Skittles. “Came from my personal stash. Care to share?”

  The girl handed her the bag. “Your dentist must love you.”

  She poured some into her palm and han
ded them back, digging into another pocket to pull out a travel-sized toothbrush. “Good oral hygiene is important.”

  “You’re weird.”

  “Want to talk about what’s going on?”

  “I know the drill. You ask me my name and age and all that. When I refuse to tell you, you haul me down to the station, call Child Protective Service, and send me off to another crappy foster home.”

  Aspen studied the girl as she talked. Her red high-top sneakers were obviously too big. Her jeans were torn and filthy. The gray hoodie was sized for a much larger person and fell almost to her knees, its thin material providing little protection on this chilly November day. She was pale and gaunt—probably hadn’t eaten a decent meal in ages. Looked like she was living on the streets. Aspen remembered those days from her own youth all too well. “You like pancakes?”

  “Do you think about anything besides food?” She looked right at Aspen—through her—her bright green gaze piercing and curious. “Whoa, your eyes are—”

  “The windows to my soul,” Aspen finished, well aware they perfectly matched her raven hair. She knew little about her parents, but her Native American heritage came through loud and clear.

  “They’re so…dark,” the girl said, staring. “They’re beautiful. You’re pretty. For a cop,” she added quickly.

  Aspen sensed there was something special about this kid. And not just because the girl had complimented her, though that did score her some extra points. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly, but she was sure of it. Trusting her instincts had paid off more than once on the job. She checked her watch. Her shift was ending soon. “How about we grab some dinner at IHOP? My treat.”

  “How come you’re not fat?” the girl asked, looking genuinely baffled.

  Aspen smiled. “Fast metabolism.”

  “Fast what?” She shook her head. “Forget it. You’re trying to trick me. I go with you, and we end up at the station instead of eating pancakes.”

  Aspen sighed, deciding to come clean. “I got my ass kicked today by a drunk who was twice my age. The guys at the precinct will never let me live it down.” She stood, brushed the dirt from her pants, and extended a hand. “Believe me, I’m not in any big hurry to get back.”

  To her surprise, the girl reached up and grabbed hold with a firm grip. Time slowed the moment their hands connected. The kid faded from view like smoky wisps as the image of a huge white owl, wings spread wide, appeared before her. Aspen drew in a sharp breath. The owl had the girl’s unmistakable bright green eyes.

  She let go of the girl’s hand, squeezed her eyes shut, and opened them again. The kid was now standing where the owl had been.

  The girl took a step back, a look of surprise on her face. “You’re a panther.”

  “Come again?”

  “I’m an owl. You’re a pan—” She shook her head. “Never mind.” She lifted her red backpack from the ground and slung it over one shoulder. “Can we go eat? I’m starving.”

  An owl? Aspen stood speechless as she watched the girl hurry off toward the rooftop door. Did she say owl? She couldn’t remember the last time she was rendered speechless. There was one thing about herself she knew she could always count on, regardless of the situation: she carried a well-stocked arsenal of clever quips and candy bars wherever she went. What good was one without the other?

  The kid swung open the rooftop door and glanced back over her shoulder. “You coming or what?”

  * * *

  Aspen ordered the usual and handed her menu to the waitress, watching as the kid did the same. She had taken her regular booth in the back corner and requested that the surrounding tables remain unoccupied so she and the girl could talk. “So?” she finally asked as their waitress sauntered away.

  The girl stared at her blankly.

  “Chocolate-chip pancakes for a name. That was the deal.”

  “Fine. It’s Skye. I’m thirteen,” she said, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “Lots of people think I’m a boy, but I’m a girl.”

  Aspen gave herself a mental high five. “You cut your hair to look like a boy so no one’ll mess with you on the streets.”

  Skye looked up, a mix of emotions spreading across her face.

  “You’re smart, resourceful. I admire that.” She studied Skye’s black eye, bruised cheek, and split lip. “What happened to your face?”

  “Some homeless dude wanted my high-tops.”

  Aspen glanced under the table. “And?”

  “And I said no.” The girl met her gaze defiantly.

  She thought for a moment, suddenly concerned for the homeless dude. “How badly did you hurt him?”

  “I kicked him—hard—in the nuts. Told him I’d cut them off if he bothered me again.”

  “Okay.” Aspen shook her head. She couldn’t help herself and smiled. “Aside from your face, how’s the rest of you?”

  “Fine.”

  “Do you have any other injuries?”

  Skye shook her head.

  Just to be safe, she’d take the girl to the hospital for an exam and get her statement as soon as they were finished here. Skye had obviously perfected a tough exterior, but her underlying fear was palpable. “I bounced between foster homes and lived on the streets for a while when I was a kid.” Aspen stood and went to the other side of the booth to sit beside the girl. “I got my ass kicked more than a few times. Made me think I always needed to look tough and be on guard with everyone. But deep down, I was really scared inside.” She sighed. “It’s okay to be scared, you know.”

  They sat together in silence. Skye wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of one sleeve. “Did you make that up just to…you know…relate?”

  “It’s all true. I swear on my entire collection of candy.”

  The girl smiled and looked up. “How’d you end up in a foster home? Where were your parents?”

  “They died when I was six. I didn’t have any other family.” She thought back, remembering the feeling of disbelief upon learning of her parents’ death. The hardest part to grasp at that age was the permanence of their passing. She remembered waking up each morning, believing with all her heart and soul that they had magically returned in the middle of the night and were asleep in the next room. It had taken her a whole year to figure out that dead meant never coming back.

  Aspen realized most people went through life fighting like hell to avoid revisiting the painful memories of the past. She made a point of regularly running her fingers over the old scars in her life to keep herself resilient and strong. “What about you?” she asked, returning to the opposite side of the booth. “Where are your parents?”

  Skye looked at her for a long moment before answering. “Dead.”

  It took Aspen a few beats to put two and two together. She thought back to the moment their hands touched on the rooftop. This girl must be a Shroud—a shapeshifter. More precisely, an owl. But how had she figured out the girl’s animal? Aside from a blood test, there was only one way to discern humans from Shrouds: actually seeing them shapeshift. She’d seen Shrouds shift many times over the years, both on and off the job. But this girl hadn’t shifted in the usual sense. It was as if Skye had removed a mask, her human body, when their hands connected. Aspen had shaken hands with countless Shrouds over the years. Never once had that happened before.

  She suddenly found herself with more questions than answers but refrained from asking the girl about it. Skye had lost her parents. She’d bet anything they were targeted and murdered simply because they were Shrouds. Aspen put her arms on the table and leaned forward. “You’re a Shroud,” she whispered, careful not to draw attention.

  Nodding, the girl bit her lip uncertainly. She pushed up the cuff of her sweatshirt to reveal the mark on her right hand.

  “Okay.” Relations between humans and Shrouds were tenuous, at best. When President Decker took office three years ago, he’d wasted no time before playing to his base of racist supporters. He spread lies about Shrouds o
n a daily basis, exacerbating the tension between the two species and amplifying humans’ distrust of Shrouds to a degree unprecedented in the history of human/Shroud coexistence. Aspen had seen the effects of Decker’s toxic influence firsthand. She despised him and everything he stood for.

  She pierced the girl with a steady gaze. “What happened to your parents?”

  “A man in a suit knocked on our door a few months ago. He said he worked with my dad, so I let him in. He shot my dad with a gun, and then he shot Mom. He fired at me, too, but he missed. I escaped through the back kitchen door and…” Skye hesitated. “I ran as fast as I could to the police station. The police went to my house but never found my parents. They said they found suitcases on the bed. Looked like my parents had packed up all their clothes and took off without me. But my parents would never do that. They loved me.” She shook her head as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “I saw what he did to them. But the cops didn’t care.”

  Aspen thought for a moment, unnerved by the similarity in their stories. She was six when her parents were murdered. They, too, were Shrouds. The only difference between her story and Skye’s was that Aspen was human. She was adopted by Shroud parents, which is why she’d been spared.

  She looked at the girl. Aspen could smell an omission a mile away. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Skye. What is it?”

  The girl averted her gaze and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “When the man in the black suit shot at my parents, they…shifted. My dad shifted into a black bear, and my mom shifted into an owl. Before my mom shifted, she yelled at me to fly away and trust my instincts. But I just stood there. I couldn’t believe she’d said that.”