In Deep Shift: The Protectors Unlimited Book Three

by Blackwood, Keira

  “That ain’t it.” Roadkill laughed. “I fucking tricked you...you sorry ass...whatever the fuck you are.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled from the fiery shell of his vehicle.

  I looked inside the box.

  He was right. Inside was a golden ball. Not the device.

  I sighed and turned back toward the way I had traveled.

  “The money’s mine. You can’t get it. Not now,” Roadkill yelled after me, his stumbling footsteps sliding in the mud.

  “I don’t want your money,” I said.

  I took the ball and left the box.

  Fire rushed over the vehicle as I walked away. Still, all I could hear was Roadkill’s laughter.

  Before long I could barely hear his voice as thunder boomed in the sky above.

  The orb in my hand grew hot. I peered down as the shape unfolded in my palm, a metal shell unfurling like blossoming petals.

  One last question followed me before I stepped from sight. “What the fuck are you?” Roadkill yelled.

  “Dragon,” I replied without turning back.

  My attention remained fixed on the glowing shape that moved in my hands. In the center of the open orb was a being, something alive and waking. A ball of fur and feathers, unfurled. With the golden beak, claws, and black feathered wings of a bird, and the orange fur and pointed ears of a cat, I was left at a loss. Big black eyes dominated the tiny creature’s face, blinking as they peered up at me.

  “What are you supposed to be?”

  Chapter One

  Mia

  The yawn was just for show. Arching my back, I opened my mouth wide and stretched my arms out behind the heads of the enforcers sitting beside me.

  The pencil neck to my left stared at my breasts. Scowly to my right just grunted and inched away.

  My mark was set.

  With a gentle bump of my elbow, I turned to my left with a faux-look of abashment.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Big and bear-smelling, the guy to my left had wide shoulders and a strangely thin neck for a guy his size. He stared at me with a stupid grin. Poor sucker was only a pawn, and he had no idea.

  “It’s just these seats are so uncomfortable,” I said, wiggling my ass.

  And they were. Metal chairs were butted up in the hall outside of Conference Room One. It only took a few minutes sitting on one to make my tailbone sore and my back pinch. I’d been stuck here for an hour—long enough to get bored.

  “They could use some cushions,” Pencil Neck agreed.

  “I think they do it on purpose,” I said. “Keep us uncomfortable to set the tone before the hearing.”

  “Hearing?” His beady brown eyes went wide. “Like a court hearing? I thought this was only a meeting.”

  “Oh,” I said, straightening in my seat.

  “Oh what?”

  “It’s your first time.”

  “It’s not yours?”

  I laughed and popped a bubble with my strawberry Bubblicious.

  His shoulders bristled.

  “Uh, no,” I said.

  The door opened, and both men turned their attention to the dude in the suit holding it open.

  “Vincent Clemmons,” the receptionist said.

  A dude three seats down from me stood. He had tattoos all over his face, inked like a skull—interesting. He entered the room and the door shut again, leaving us in the too-white, too-quiet hallway.

  Scowly sank down in his seat.

  “What happens when they call you in?” Pencil Neck asked.

  “I bet this guy knows all about it,” I said, clasping Scowly’s shoulder.

  He grunted again. Maybe he was mute.

  “Missing your tongue, buddy?”

  “Don’t touch me,” he said.

  “I meant no harm,” I said before pulling away. At the same time, I snatched the wallet from his jacket pocket.

  “So what happens?” Pencil Neck asked.

  “Oh they tell you all the naughty things you’ve done, and you’re supposed to say how sorry you are. If you’re lucky, you get off with a warning. If you don’t play your cards right, you end up in a cell somewhere and never see the light of day again. Maybe even get a bunkmate named Bruiser who’ll make you his bitch.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he replied, his voice a little higher than it had been.

  I tapped his cheek with my palm and slid the other man’s wallet into his back pocket.

  “That’s not the story I’d tell them.”

  “Wait, why not?” he asked. “It’s the truth. Why wouldn’t you tell them truth? It’s the best defense if you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Dummy.

  The next door down opened. This time it was a woman with a clipboard who stepped out.

  “Gerald Butler.”

  Pencil Neck froze.

  “That’s you?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Well go get ’em, tiger.”

  “I’m a bear shifter,” he said.

  “Knock ’em dead,” I said. “You know, not literally. Then you’d just end up right back here for another meeting.” I added air quotes for emphasis.

  The color drained from his face.

  “Last call for Gerald Butler,” the woman with the clipboard said.

  Gerald looked from her to the door and back again.

  Then he got up to go. At first I didn’t know which way he was going to choose. The hearing or door. It would only be worse if he ran.

  He steeled his face, squared his shoulders, and marched to meet his fate.

  Good for him. Maybe.

  That left just me and Scowly.

  “So what are you in for?” I asked.

  He said nothing.

  “Yeah, me, too. But did you see that guy? I’m pretty sure he stole your wallet.”

  “What?” Scowly’s grumpy face turned flat-out sour, his tan skin bright red as he checked his pockets.

  Then he rose from his seat and busted into Conference Room One.

  There was banging. And yelling. And then Scowly was dragged out in cuffs. He dangled unconscious between two suit-wearing enforcers.

  Yep, another day, another trip to the dog house. But at least this time I had some damned room to spread out.

  I lay across the empty chairs and stared up at the ceiling.

  I waited a while longer, listening to the clock tick the day away before the door to the conference room opened. It was always a little disheartening the way people went in but never came out. I knew from experience there was another door and another hall, but it would have been more satisfying to see what fate befell my peers.

  The skinny dude with the suit and clipboard looked to me.

  “Mia Blake?”

  “Yep.”

  Finally, it was my turn. I rolled from the seats and walked over to him, sparing a glance for the clock on the wall. I’d been waiting for nearly two hours—a waste of a perfectly good day, really.

  As the door clicked shut behind me, I took a seat at the end of the table and looked at today’s judges.

  It was always three—one wolf, one bear, one tiger. There was a plethora of other shifter types, but only three were represented in the Tribunal leadership. Political activism wasn’t really my thing, so it didn’t bother me that there weren’t any foxes.

  Two of the three judges in attendance were familiar, though the tiger I’d been hoping for wasn’t here. Leonard, my mentor, sometimes took a place at the table for these sorts of things, but sadly never for me. Maybe they thought he couldn’t offer impartial sentencing to one of the kids he had raised.

  Instead of Leonard in the tiger seat, there was Dorothy. I hadn’t learned her last name. She was old enough to have gray hair, which in the shifter world was really saying something, but she only had a few wrinkles. Her lips remained in a permanent pucker, and her sharp eyes and even sharper blazer shoulder pads spoke to her no-nonsense attitude.

  Across from Dorothy was
the black bear with the black beard. Franklin. I hadn’t learned his last name either. He was a little softer than Dorothy, a little more forgiving. Naturally, I liked him better.

  The two of them had been at each of my last three disciplinary meetings. Sitting between the two, straight across from me at the other end of the long table, was an unfamiliar face.

  Gray beard, hard steel-hued eyes. He wore a suit, just like the man beside him, but this guy looked comfortable in his, whereas Franklin never did.

  The wolf was going to be the deciding factor, and I couldn’t read him.

  “Ms. Blake,” Dorothy said.

  “Mia,” I corrected.

  “Ms. Blake,” Dorothy said again. “Your commanding officer has reported that you once again have been pursuing frivolous whims instead of focusing on your assigned task.”

  I considered the advice I’d offered the dude in the waiting room—fake remorse. It was solid advice. Then I threw it out the window.

  “Hunting dragons isn’t frivolous,” I said.

  “We’ve been down this road with you before, Ms. Blake,” Franklin said.

  “Yep,” I agreed. “I remember.” I leaned back in the chair and crossed my ankles on the edge of the table.

  Dorothy opened her mouth like she had something to say. The thing was—I wasn’t done yet.

  “But here’s the thing,” I said. “I finished my case. A week early. Did Don tell you that part?”

  My question was met with silence.

  “I finished the job, stole back the whatsit—without bloodshed, I might add—and convinced the human idiot who had the thing that he was high and imagined it all. All of that before I took personal time to—”

  “Take your feet off the table,” Dorothy said through gritted teeth.

  I did as she requested and popped a bubble with my gum. I wasn’t worried. These things always went my way, one way or another. Lady Luck and I had an understanding. BFFs or some shit.

  “Ms. Blake,” Franklin said. “The Tribunal knows your capabilities. It’s why you’ve been excused your previous transgressions. But at some point—”

  “Drop the talk of dragons,” Dorothy said.

  The wolf shifter was still just silently sitting there, staring at me. I wished I could read him, but his face was a mask.

  “You know they’re real,” I said. “You people keep telling me they’re not, but you read my report about Riverwood. Hell, you read everyone’s. It wasn’t just me who saw them.”

  “Dorothy’s right,” Franklin said. “I’m not saying you didn’t see what you say you saw, but we don’t do that here. We don’t spend resources chasing down mythical—”

  “I’m not spending resources.”

  “You are the resource,” Franklin said.

  “It’s time,” Dorothy said. “You’ve been warned on numerous occasions.” Her harsh gaze flicked away from me, over to her companions. “All in favor of removing Ms. Blake from duty, with sentencing to follow at a later date?”

  “This is bullshit,” I said. “You all know it.”

  Franklin raised his hand.

  Fuck.

  Dorothy followed suit. No surprise there.

  All eyes turned to the wolf.

  His gaze remained locked on mine.

  “No,” he said.

  I sighed and sank back into my seat.

  “You read the report,” Dorothy said. “Her CO has disowned her. There is a pattern of behavior here—”

  “I’ll take her.”

  “That’s a mistake,” Dorothy said. “You did read the files, didn’t you, Bart? Ms. Blake is a menace, a disgrace to this organization, to all that we stand for.”

  “Ouch,” I said.

  “I said she’ll be my responsibility,” the mystery wolf said. “I’ll make the fox heel.”

  Dorothy shook her head.

  Franklin clasped the wolf shifter on the shoulder. “That’s a tall task, my friend. I hope you don’t regret it.”

  Franklin and Dorothy walked out through the back door, talking to each other, but I wasn’t listening. Instead, my attention was squarely on the conundrum in front of me—my new keeper.

  We stared at each other, a match of wills.

  I’ll make the fox heel, he’d said.

  Challenge accepted.

  Chapter Two

  Mia

  Sitting alone with my new handler at the conference table was awkward, but being urged into the back of an SUV like a prisoner by his goons—well, that was worse.

  My new boss sat across from me in near-darkness as the driver took us who knows where. The wolf shifter stared at me but said nothing. He only spoke three words on the walk here. Come. Get in. That’s when two big-ass bears “helped me” get into the back of the Escalade.

  Some may say I was at a disadvantage, knowing nothing about the man across from me. But I chose to look at it as a new game, a challenge. All it took was a little exchange of information, and I’d have him by the balls.

  The wolf shifter appeared completely at ease. He sank into his seat while still dominating the space. His pant legs lifted as he sat, revealing tall cowboy boots instead of dress shoes—interesting choice. There was nothing overtly threatening about the guy, other than his size and his Tribunal authority. Crow’s feet and laugh lines told me he was a smiler, or at least had been at one time, though his face had remained impassive the entire time he was with me. He didn’t try anything sleazy, and his scent didn’t betray any alarming intent, so I figured we were off to a pretty solid start.

  “So, before you tell me what exactly you want me for, let’s start with your name,” I said. Dorothy had called him Bart, but that wasn’t much to go on.

  “You assume I want something from you.” His eyes narrowed as he searched my face.

  “Of course I assume that,” I replied. “Everyone wants something.”

  “My name is Barnaby Drexel,” he said. “But let’s start with what you want.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Why not?”

  A knowing grin crossed his face. “You, Ms. Blake, are searching for proof of the existence of dragons.”

  “I already know they exist.”

  “But it’s not enough, just knowing, is it?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Streetlights shone through the window, flashing across his face. “You have an itch, a compulsion to learn more, to see one again.”

  “How—”

  “How do I know?” he asked. “I read your files. I know that you’ve been hunting every whisper, every rumor. It’s why I volunteered to oversee your case. Because I’ve seen them. And I feel it too.”

  Four years had passed since I’d been called to help seal away the dragon in Riverwood. Memories of what happened there had stuck with me. And Drexel was right, it was a bit of an obsession. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know why the shifter world didn’t know about the existence of dragons. And more than that, I needed to see one again.

  “So, what?” I asked. “We share a common interest, so you want to be BFFs, braid each other’s hair?” Not that he had enough hair to braid. It was trimmed super short.

  “We share a focus, a drive,” he said. “So I thought you might be more useful in the field, helping me catch an actual dragon instead of rotting in a cell.”

  Fair enough.

  “You have my attention,” I admitted. “But what makes you think the two of us can find, let alone catch a dragon? I’ve been searching. For four years. It’s not easy.”

  “I have a lead.”

  “I’ve had lots of leads. What makes this one different than the rest?”

  “The answer to your question is classified.”

  “That’s code for I can’t prove shit,” I said.

  “If I share this with you, you agree to work for me. Not work around me as you’ve done with your previous commanding officers. You report to me. You follow my instructions. And you write your reports like the Tribunal wants them written.”

  The Therion
Tribunal wanted their reports written with neat resolutions, no complications, and without mention of dragons.

  “You mean lie?” I asked.

  “I would never suggest fabricating facts on a report,” he said.

  “But omitting details is a different story,” I said.

  “Observation is subjective.”

  I liked where this was going, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. With an impassive expression, I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Say I agree. I don’t talk about dragons in my reports, I act like a good little soldier, then what? What do I get in return?”

  “Everything you want,” he said. “You get to hunt for dragons, on the clock, and I help you do it.”

  “You still haven’t explained why you think you can find them more easily than I can,” I said.

  “I’m happy to explain everything,” he said. “But first, do we have a deal?”

  I considered the arrangement. It was better than I’d hoped for. It was a sanctioned dragon hunt—too good to be true. While I took him up on his offer, I could watch out for the catch. There was always a catch.

  “Sure,” I said, offering my hand. “I can agree to your terms.”

  He accepted and we shook. Then Drexel leaned back against the black leather, spreading his arms out across the top of the seat.

  I waited for him to speak, waited for the details he’d promised.

  He knocked on the glass behind him. I guessed it was some kind of cue to the driver.

  The SUV turned.

  He handed me an envelope. I peeked inside and found a keycard marked The Grand Marina, along with a stack of cash.

  “Your first assignment is two-fold. First, there’s a device. A metal cube about this big.”

  He gestured with his hands the size of a softball or a grapefruit.

  “What is it?”

  “A weapon.”

  “What kind?” I asked.

  “One that could endanger us all.”

  “Wait, wait. What?” I blinked hard and shook my head. What kind of device could endanger us all? What was that even supposed to mean? Sounded like a load of shit to me. Best to keep my cool and see what else he had to say.

  “There was a theft from a secret Tribunal facility. A gang of mercenary wolves broke in and stole this weapon,” Drexel said.