Endangered

by Michelle Larkin

President Decker had signed an executive order last year, making it unlawful for Shrouds to shift. Aspen had never arrested a Shroud for shifting—she refused—but she knew lots of other cops who had.

  Skye opened her mouth to go on but thought better of it and looked down. Suddenly quiet, she fidgeted with the zipper on her sweatshirt.

  “It’s okay.” Aspen reached across the table reassuringly. “You won’t get into trouble with me for shifting.”

  Skye looked up, her expression doubtful. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “When the man shot at me and missed, I bolted out the kitchen door. You know that expression, fight or flight?”

  Aspen nodded.

  “Well, I flew. Literally. I turned into a white owl, just like my mom, and I flew into the sky. That’s how I got away. He couldn’t chase me up there.”

  “That was a smart thing to do.”

  “But how can you say that? You’re a cop. Shifting is against the law.”

  Aspen shrugged. “It’s a stupid law,” she said honestly.

  “My dad raised me never to shift—even before it was against the law. He did everything he could to make me as human as possible. He said it was too dangerous to embrace Shroud culture, that there were too many Shroud haters out there.”

  Aspen said nothing as the waitress returned and set their plates on the table. “What were you doing on the roof?” she asked as soon as they were alone again. The girl watched, seemingly mesmerized as she drowned her pancakes in as much syrup as humanly possible.

  “You are seriously addicted to sugar.”

  “I know. I’ve been looking for a good support group. Haven’t found one yet.” She stuffed a large forkful of pancakes into her mouth, relishing their buttery sweetness. Syrup ran down her chin and onto the napkin she’d tucked into the collar of her uniform. “So?”

  Skye stabbed a fork into her own stack. “I was going to jump.”

  “To fall or fly?”

  “Fall.” Skye took a modest bite, chewed, and swallowed. “I just didn’t want to be here anymore.”

  Aspen set down her fork, wiped her chin, and took a sip of coffee. “Do you feel that way now?”

  “No.” Skye took a much larger bite this time, returning Aspen’s gaze with confidence.

  “Good. What’s changed?”

  The girl grinned around a mouthful of pancakes. “I met you.”

  Chapter Two

  President Timothy Decker set his hands on his hips and stared out over the South Lawn from the window inside the Oval Office. “Have the SEA troops been mobilized?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. Dispatched to every state and all major cities. Last unit touched down about an hour ago.”

  “And this still hasn’t hit the news?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then it’s time we got started.” Tim took a deep cleansing breath. “Tell them the mission’s a go.”

  His secretary of defense remained glued in place on the Oval Office rug.

  The president turned and cast a stern glance at Finkleman. “Do it,” he ordered. “Now.”

  “But wouldn’t it be best to wait until morning, Mr. President?”

  “I want to implement these changes before the media catches wind of this.” Tim stepped away from the window and casually leaned over the leather chair behind the Oval Office desk—his desk, he reminded himself proudly. He checked his Rolex. “Most Shrouds are probably leaving their jobs right about now, scurrying home to their little fur families. Time to round them up and dispose of them like the vermin they are.”

  * * *

  It was closing in on seven p.m. by the time Aspen parked her patrol car in the hospital parking lot. She cut the engine and turned to Skye. “Just a quick checkup with the ER doc to make sure you’re okay. No big thing.”

  “You plan on dumping me here?”

  She cut the engine and turned to Skye. “Not at all.”

  “You’re off the clock now.” A palpable sadness crept into Skye’s green eyes. “You’ll call CPS, and then you’ll be done with me. Right?”

  Aspen thought for a moment. The kid was right. Protocol dictated that’s exactly what she was supposed to do. But there was something inside that urged her not to follow the rules this time. She wasn’t sure why. There was no denying she felt connected to this kid. But there was something else, too. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  Sighing, she reached inside the collar of her uniform and pulled out the pendant that had come to feel like a part of her body. She unclasped the chain and gave the pendant one last rub between thumb and forefinger. “Someone gave this to me when I was your age,” she said, handing it to Skye. “It’s the symbol of the phoenix.” She watched as the girl studied the pendant’s gold face. “When her old life is over, she rises from the ashes into a new life, emerging even more powerful and made even more beautiful by her newfound strength. Eventually, with time, that’s what will happen to you. I see it in you, Skye, so I know it’s there. Someday, you’ll see it in yourself, too. And when you do, it’ll be time to pass this on to someone else.” She retrieved the necklace from Skye’s hands, draped it around the girl’s neck, and clasped it securely in place. “From now on, just know you’re never alone.”

  Skye looked at her, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

  Blinking back her own tears, Aspen offered a reassuring smile. “Oh, and one more thing.” Unable to keep from breaking the tension, she put on her best serious-cop face. “You’re not going to turn into an owl in the exam room, are you?”

  Skye laughed. It was the first real laugh she’d heard from the girl since they’d met. “No. I promise I won’t do that.”

  “Good. Let’s go get you medically cleared.”

  Skye hesitated, carefully tucking the pendant inside the collar of her red hoodie. “Then what?” she asked.

  Aspen shrugged. “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out…together.”

  * * *

  The doctor rounded the corner and almost collided with Aspen in front of the vending machine.

  “All set,” she said, eyeing the pile of candy inside the barf bucket Aspen had confiscated and was now holding under one arm.

  Aspen reluctantly turned away from the Payday dangling precariously inside the machine to give the doctor her undivided attention. “She okay?”

  “She’s a bit malnourished. Has some bruises and scratches but otherwise appears in good health. I’ll finish my report and fax it over. You can go into the room and wait there. Skye’s taking a shower now. I gave her a fresh pair of scrubs to wear.” The doctor’s eyes kept returning to the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups inside the barf bucket. “You’ve made quite an impression on her, Officer Wolfe. She trusts you.”

  The doctor’s eyes were the most unique and beautiful shade of amber-gold she’d ever seen. Unruly curly blond hair was braided loosely down her back. Several locks had broken free and were tucked behind one ear. Aspen withdrew the Reese’s from the pile and handed it to her.

  She accepted the candy and extended her hand. “Tora Madigan.”

  Captivated by her eyes, Aspen returned the handshake but immediately wished she hadn’t. Time came to a screeching halt. As the doctor faded from view, a lioness assumed her place with those incredible amber-gold eyes. Rippling with power, nobility, and self-control, the lioness held its tail high as it stalked around her in a full circle.

  The hair on the back of Aspen’s neck stood up. Her instincts told her she was being evaluated. As she turned to face the lioness, they squared off like two alphas vying for dominance. She felt her own primal instincts kick in, begging to take over. She shook her head to snap herself out of it. What the hell? How could this happen twice in one day? She released the doctor’s hand and took a step back.

  The doctor was now standing where the lioness had been. Exactly as it had happened with Skye and the owl.

  Their eyes locked as they stood in silence for long seconds. The doct
or observed her with a calm, quiet confidence that Aspen was unaccustomed to seeing. Most people were at least a smidgeon intimidated by an armed police officer in uniform.

  The doctor was the first to break the silence. “Did you skip breakfast, lunch, and dinner?” she asked with an amused grin, glancing at the candy-filled barf bucket. “For a week?”

  Aspen switched the bucket to her other arm a little self-consciously. It was getting heavy. “This is just an after-dinner snack.”

  Tora closed the distance between them and studied her intently. “I’ve never seen eyes so…dark. They’re quite beautiful.”

  The alluring scent of Tora’s perfume wafted over her, a little intoxicating. “Ditto,” was all Aspen could think to say. “But minus the dark part,” she added quickly. “They remind me a little of—”

  “A lion’s eyes?” Tora finished, an impish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She returned Aspen’s gaze with the forthright and unwavering confidence of a leader.

  It was a little unnerving. “Nice to meet you, Doc. Thanks for taking care of Skye,” Aspen said, already heading down the corridor. She turned the corner and glanced back, relieved to see she wasn’t being followed by a hungry predator.

  * * *

  Tora watched, mesmerized, as Aspen made a hasty retreat. Those eyes. Had she really seen what she thought she saw? Was it even possible? She squinted, following the cop’s lithe figure as she disappeared around the corner and vanished from sight.

  It was almost as if Aspen was unaware of her own gifts—ignorant to who and what she was. How could that be? Surely, she would have come to terms with her identity by now. But if that was the case, why would she be out in public, unprotected? What Shroud in their right mind would let someone as indispensable as Aspen roam around the city streets, fighting crime?

  Her stomach growled as she gazed down at the Reese’s in her hand. She hadn’t taken the time to eat today and felt grateful for this small energy boost. She tore open the orange wrapper and peeled the brown paper from each peanut butter cup. She ate them quickly, her mind on Aspen.

  * * *

  Aspen knocked on the door and stepped inside the exam room. The door to the bathroom was closed. She heard water running in the shower. She sat in the only chair and set the barf bucket in her lap, unwrapping a Twix as she thought back to the day she met Oscar.

  At twelve years old, she’d just bolted from another nightmare of a foster home. Living on the streets was an improvement to being bullied, beaten, and starved by a family who took her in for the sole purpose of getting a modest monthly stipend from the state. Convinced she could take better care of herself, she wasted no time in establishing a dependable routine.

  She’d started each morning with a brisk walk to the local Dunkin’ Donuts, scavenging what she could from the dumpster. They always discarded the previous day’s unsold food before opening their doors at five a.m., so there was usually a plentiful buffet of baked goods from which to pick. From there, she headed to a spot along the Charles River to feed the ducks. Determined to continue her academic studies, she then made her way to the Boston Public Library, where she would disappear in the vast array of bookshelves and spend each day reading everything she could get her hands on. At three p.m., when students were released from Boston public schools, she took the bus to the local YMCA to shower, brush her teeth, and change into fresh clothes. Each night, she stopped by the Laundromat to wash her clothes in the sink, remove someone else’s from the dryer, and steal a few minutes of their time until her clothes were dry enough to wear again the following day.

  Her routine had continued, uninterrupted for months, until fall turned into winter. She had nowhere to go to keep warm. That was when she realized nobody cared about her. She didn’t have any family. No friends to speak of. When it came down to it, no one gave a crap if she lived or died. Humans considered her tainted because she’d been adopted and raised by Shrouds.

  Knowing her circumstances were unlikely to change, Aspen decided to take her own life. It was certainly better than freezing to death overnight on the park bench where she usually slept. She stole a knife from the local grocery store and stabbed herself repeatedly in the stomach in the middle of the night.

  A local beat cop happened upon her as she lay in a pool of her own blood. He’d scooped her up and carried her in his arms all the way to the emergency room. She still remembered looking up at him and feeling the sting of his hot tears on her face. Looking back, she knew she was lucky to have survived without any long-term effects from such serious injuries.

  In a bittersweet twist of fate, she ended up finding a home with that cop. He’d saved her life in more ways than one. By the time she turned thirteen, her second adoption was official. It didn’t take her long to realize she felt safe and loved in Oscar Wolfe’s presence. He was a man of integrity, honor, and intense loyalty, never far whenever she needed him. He was a Shroud—just like her parents had been. But she didn’t mind in the least. Despite the fact that most humans were either intensely distrustful of Shrouds or downright hateful toward them, she believed Shrouds were inherently good. Not a popular opinion in this day and age, but it was one she vehemently defended.

  Hard to believe eighteen years had passed since that fateful night. She’d come a long way since then.

  Aspen spent her teenage years listening to stories about Oscar’s time on the streets as a beat cop. His Shroud status prevented him from rising through the ranks, but that never seemed to bother him. He loved his job and saw it as his chance to change humans’ misconceptions about Shrouds.

  Shrouds were required to register with the Shroud database and be marked with a branding iron on their right hand before they reached their second birthday. Since Shrouds were prohibited from wearing gloves—no matter how cold it was outside—every human Oscar encountered on the job knew he was a Shroud. That, of course, created challenges on a daily basis for him as a cop, but it sure made for some interesting stories—stories he was always more than happy to share over dinner.

  Aspen had lived vicariously through him and grew up knowing there was only one thing she wanted to do with her life: follow in her hero’s footsteps. She applied for a spot on the BPD at twenty-one and never looked back. She was made for this job.

  The sound of running water stopped. Skye emerged a few minutes later in green scrubs that made her eyes blindingly brighter. Freshly washed and still wet, her short hair was now a darker shade of brown. The color in her cheeks had finally returned. She smelled soapy clean.

  Relieved to set eyes on the girl again, Aspen sighed. Was this how it happened for Oscar? Some kid hijacked your heart when you least expected it, and there was no turning back? She suddenly found herself wanting nothing more than to be there for Skye like Oscar had been there for her.

  Skye exited from the bathroom, shut off the light, and glanced at the bucket in her lap. She sat on the bed across from Aspen, her brow furrowed in genuine concern. “I was just joking before, but I think you might have a real problem.”

  Aspen looked down to find she’d already polished off the Twix, a Hershey’s bar with almonds, two York Peppermint Patties, and a bag of Peanut M&M’s. The empty wrappers stared up at her. “I know how it looks, but this candy isn’t mine,” she said, wiping some chocolate from her chin.

  “Nice try.” Skye frowned. “I’m pretty sure denial is the first sign of a problem.”

  The kid had a point. She set the bucket on the floor. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Fine.” The girl yawned. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

  Aspen checked her watch. It was already nine p.m. “You’ve had a long day. Let’s head to the station. You can sleep there tonight.”

  Skye sat up straighter, a worried look in her eyes. “Are you going home after you drop me off at the station?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?” Skye asked, leaning forward.

  “Have you ever played Boggle?”

  The gi
rl was quiet as she thought for a moment. “The word game?” she guessed, looking up.

  Aspen nodded.

  “My parents and I used to play that all the time. It’s only my favorite game in the entire universe. Why?”

  If she needed a sign that she was supposed to stay in the kid’s life, this had to be it. “You any good?”

  “Not to brag or anything, but I’ve won every tournament against my parents since I was, like, eleven.”

  “Well, kiddo”—Aspen narrowed her eyes—“looks like you’ve finally met your match.”

  Skye grinned knowingly. “Or maybe you’ve finally met yours.”

  “Touché. Hot cocoa and Boggle at the station?”

  “Only if there’s popcorn and you agree to stay the whole night.”

  “Deal.”

  They shook hands, and Skye’s tense posture visibly relaxed. She rubbed the pendant around her neck. “Thanks, Officer Wolfe.”

  “Aspen,” she corrected the girl. “Just call me Aspen.”

  Chapter Three

  With Skye beside her, Aspen exited the exam room, rounded the corner, and came face-to-face with Skye’s doctor. The lion doctor, she reminded herself. They sized each other up once again.

  “There’s been a complication,” Tora said. “Follow me.” Glancing nervously over her shoulder, she led the way back to the exam room.

  The hair on the back of Aspen’s neck stood up as she stepped inside. She set her hands on her hips, the weight of her gun belt reassuring. “What’s up?”

  Tora took one last look up and down the corridor, closed the door quietly, and turned to face them. “The president just made an announcement. He signed and enacted a worldwide treaty authorizing any and all humans to…” She trailed off, her eyes on Skye.

  “To what?” Aspen pressed.

  Tora sighed, turning her attention to Aspen. “To execute Shrouds.”

  “Execute Shrouds? You’re kidding me, right?”