The Shifter's Choice

by Jenna Kernan

  Johnny lifted a finger and scooped a tear from her cheek. She rolled against him, her back to his front. He held her tight, just tight enough to make her feel safe.

  She stopped speaking, sharing this part only in sign. She felt him bend to look over her shoulder, focusing on her hands.

  They smelled like piss and fear, just like me.... The police found me. I don’t remember all of it. I was kind of a mess. Still am, I guess. So I don’t tell people about it and I don’t let people get inside. It’s too risky. But then, you’ve had a rough time, too, and I decided...

  Johnny finished the sentence for her.

  He signed, To trust me.

  Sonia gave a shuttering sob and nodded. She spun to face him, speaking in a strained voice as she signed, “I didn’t know you when I came here. I was just afraid. Anything seemed better than prison, even teaching a werewolf. But you’re not a werewolf. Not to me. But when I think of that cell, I can’t breathe. I get dizzy and sick. It’s like I’ll never be free of that damned cage.”

  That’s why you stayed.

  “Yes.” Sonia smiled. “But not why I’m staying now. The captain knows. I’m sure of it. He must have seen it in my file and knew I couldn’t quit. Anyway, my mama lost us for the second time then. We became wards of the state of New York for almost a year. Foster care sucked but no one forgot to feed me. Mama cleaned up and they sent us back to her again, but that didn’t last. The next time she showed up drunk at our school, Marianna got a golden ticket out of there and I got placed in a group home ’til eighteen. I wonder what she’ll do after college. College.” She sighed at the wonder of it. “I thought I’d be out of the Marines the same time she got out of school. We could get a place together, like a home. Just an apartment, but ours, you know? I don’t know. It’s hard to make plans. Life is unpredictable, right?”

  Yes, he signed. If anyone knew how unpredictable life could be it was Sergeant John Loc Lam. Won’t let you go to jail.

  Gratitude squeezed her heart and she stared up at his big, lovable face. “I believe you.” She lifted a hand and stroked his cheek.

  His eyes drifted closed.

  “And you’re still taking me dancing?”

  His eyes opened and they seemed sad and she realized in that moment that he didn’t believe it would ever happen.

  “We are going dancing, Johnny. Believe it.”

  Okay.

  Her fingers slid down his strong neck and came to rest in the soft hair of his chest. She remembered something Brianna said and drew back to sign as she spoke.

  “Hey? Have you seen the captain’s scars from the werewolf attack?”

  He nodded, his expression curious now, as if he didn’t know where she was going with this.

  “So where are yours?”

  He frowned and he stared at her a long silent moment before signing that he didn’t know.

  “But you must have scars. Where did it bite you?”

  Johnny lifted his index finger to his chest.

  I, she read.

  Then he crossed his hands at the wrist and swept them in opposite directions.

  Don’t.

  Now he had his thumb at his forehead an instant before he swept it down to contact his other thumb, tapping them once.

  Remember.

  “You don’t remember?”

  Chapter 7

  Hagan Dowling sat before his laptop’s web camera as his superior’s face came on his screen. Burne Farrell lifted his chin, revealing the distended blue ropelike arteries branching out over his throat. Their engorged appearance showed that he had recently fed.

  Looking at his own hands seemed preferable to looking at his superior’s slitted nose and spiny rodentlike teeth punctuated by two menacing fangs protruding from his liver-colored lips.

  Hagan tried not to stare at the new purple blood spots that had appeared on his superior’s neck and forehead since their last meeting only two weeks ago. When they had met ten years ago, Burne Farrell was in his prime, his skin an admirable lavender shade that seemed preferable to the white cast of his own dermis. But now that middle age had taken a firm grip on him, he grew more hideous with each meeting.

  “So you have arrived,” said Burne.

  Hagan nodded, superstitiously checking his own hands for any sign of the dreaded purple stains before reducing the size of his superior’s image to that of a matchbook. “Yes, sir. We are on the main island of Hawaii. The team’s initial sweep located one female.”

  Farrell rose so quickly his face disappeared from view and the camera now relayed a view of his mint-green dress shirt and the black belt with gold buckle that held up his gray trousers. “Vittori?”

  “No, sir. Just an ordinary female. Vampire. Tenth generation from her scent.”

  Farrell sank back to his chair, his expression peevish now.

  “She is perhaps two years past her womanhood. Her father reported her conception but at the time of her first bleed, her mother went into hiding. She was easy to track.”

  “Then why the two years lost? She might have had a babe twice already.”

  “It is the backlog of missing vampires. My MV list is growing longer because of the hunt for Brianna Vittori.” He glanced up now, not wanting to be obvious in his distaste. Burne’s condition awaited them all unless they fell to the brutish werewolves.

  His superior smiled, showing his two rodent incisors. “But she will be worth the trouble. First generation. Who knows what her male children might look like?”

  Hagan knew from the obsession that Burne Farrell showed for Brianna Vitorri that his supervisor wanted her personally. But Hagan planned to be the first to locate her and first to impregnate her. If he was virile and she fertile than they might make a son whose skin did not speak of death and whose face that, if not comely, might not be so hideous that he was condemned to walk only in darkness.

  “This latest capture is secured. I ask permission to let my men have this female capture as it will be some weeks before they can report to the training facility and several days before she can be safely transported for formal indoctrination.”

  “Granted. See that they don’t feed on her. Such entertainment needs preparation. Just sex. You understand?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Farrell aimed a blotchy finger at the camera. “Find me Vitorri, Dowling. Find her.”

  His superior clicked a button, swore and then disappeared from his computer screen.

  “Oh, I certainly intend to find her—for myself.”

  * * *

  Over the next ten days, Sonia taught Johnny to sign in the afternoons and stayed for supper most evenings. Johnny had kept her secret and had not mentioned her disclosure again. He also rarely used his compliance as a weapon to get her to tell him personal information, which was a relief.

  She might have actually begun to feel comfortable here until she recalled they could transfer her in an eyeblink. It was wiser not to lower her guard. Johnny liked her and that was good only because it ensured she could stay a little longer. But this was no more permanent than any of her other living situations.

  No more permanent than anything had ever been in her life.

  Still, he was a good student and his progress made her proud.

  His sign vocabulary was progressing very fast now and he could carry on a conversation without breaking to finger spell words. He finally admitted that he was using the book and the websites she recommended to study at night after she had gone. When Johnny discovered that nicknames were common among the deaf community, to keep from having to finger spell out their names, he took to calling her Kitten. Kitten was the sign for baby and cat combined. At his suggestion, she called him Wolf, the sign that involved drawing her fingers outward from her face and nose to simulate his long snout.

  On some occasions Brianna appeared in the late afternoon, seeming to enjoy chatting with Johnny now that he had a translator and their conversations were no longer one-sided. The captain’s wife even started pickin
g up some signs herself.

  He had not told Sonia anymore about the werewolf attack or why he could not remember, but he wanted to talk about her. She permitted his questions glad that they no longer seemed an inquisition but simple interest in her.

  Today, as they sat side by side on the mossy bank of his swimming spot, Johnny asked about her mom’s current location which was in Fishkill Correctional Facility in Upstate New York. Sonia did not write her mom but her sister did and kept her abreast of more information than she wanted to hear. All Sonia wanted was to pretend she had a normal childhood that didn’t involve her mother putting her in a dog carrier. She’d told Johnny as much and he said he thought she should talk to someone about it.

  “You are someone,” she reminded him.

  When he pressed, she said she would if he would and he let the matter drop.

  They had made their way back up the trail as the afternoon crept toward evening. Tomorrow was a big day. The doctors wanted to show Johnny something at the lab again and she’d been ordered to get Johnny to the medical facility tomorrow. She planned to walk up to get him and he’d agreed to go with her but after the last time, they were both dreading what might happen. She knew this because they were both avoiding speaking about the appointment. Perhaps that was why Johnny chose the walk back up the hill as the time to tell her about his family. He had a sister, Julia, which Sonia knew from her briefing, but she didn’t know that Julia was planning to attend the University of California, Berkeley, come fall and Johnny was worried about the cost and strain to his mother’s shaky finances.

  He also said his mom was a widow who had tried to manage their family’s Chinese restaurant after his dad’s heart attack, but had failed, nearly losing the house with the business. He’d used his signing bonus to settle that debt, but their house was still underwater and there was no money for Julia’s schooling. Sonia began to see why Johnny was so eager to get back in action. Combat duty came with more pay.

  Too many D-E-B-T, he signed.

  “So I’m a marine because I broke into a house and you’re a marine because you wanted to help your mother keep hers.”

  And serve my country.

  “That makes you a saint and me...well, not a saint.”

  He gave her a little pat on the shoulder that she found comforting. He had a way of making her feel hopeful. As if it would all be okay even when she knew better. This was one of those plateaus that came before she fell back into a valley. At least this time she saw it coming. She was sick of thinking things would be different because they never were. Not for her, anyway.

  On the walk from the swimming spot to his home, he looked out for her, helping her where she needed and letting her alone when she didn’t. She’d never had someone who listened as intently as Johnny or who seemed to understand her quite so well. He accepted her, she realized, warts and all. He might not be all human, but he didn’t have the fears that she carried about like some thorny armor.

  When they reached his house, he convinced her to stay for supper. That wasn’t difficult as she was tempted by his gentle presence as much as the chance to skip another meal served on a tray. Three square meals the military promised and they were square, unless you were in the field and then they came in sturdy little plastic packets.

  Back inside his quarters, they found themselves to be ravenous. She rummaged in his cupboards, taking out plates and silverware. She excused herself to use his bathroom and could not resist looking in his medicine cabinet. No gun, no drain cleaner. Where had he put them?

  She was tempted to search, but instead she returned to him. His quarters were so cozy that all she needed was her kit and she could move right in. Sonia stilled at the thought. This wasn’t her home. It was Johnny’s. She didn’t have a home. Had never had one.

  Johnny gave her a toothy smile and pointed to the grill. He had a whole fish on there that had turned red with the cooking.

  “What in the world? It’s still got its head.”

  He flipped the fish in one smooth motion.

  “I’ve never eaten a whole fish on the bone before. Just fish sticks.”

  Johnny made a pained face and shook his head in disgust.

  “I know, you learned to cook from your dad, right? He must have been something.”

  Johnny had a nostalgic look in his eyes when he nodded this time.

  “Never knew my dad. Marianna and I, we have different fathers. I asked to see a picture of mine once and, oh, never mind, it’s too sad.”

  Johnny motioned for her to continue.

  “She didn’t have a picture. So I asked her when she was drunk and she said she wasn’t sure who my father was. But she knew Marianna’s and he was a mean son of a bitch. Trucker, she said. I was just an accident.”

  B-L-E-S-S-I-N-G, he signed.

  She gave a mirthless laugh. “To who?”

  To me.

  She felt herself warming up inside like a flower coated in frost when the sun is finally strong enough to melt the crystals. The warning bells sounded next. Don’t get attached. It will only make it harder when they transfer you.

  He lifted the wine bottle.

  She shook her head. “I don’t drink. Too many drunks on my mother’s side for me to take a chance.”

  He set the bottle out of sight.

  He explained with sign and finger spelling that he couldn’t get drunk since the attack. Something had happened in the change. After supper, Johnny suggested a movie. He had an online video package and he let her pick. She hadn’t been to a movie in months.

  “We should go to a movie, too. Do they have a movie theater in town.”

  He nodded yes and signed, Off island.

  They settled in, she on the couch while he sprawled on wide cushions on the floor, his broad head propped up against the couch just a few inches from her. He lay so close that she could have reached out to stroke his head from where she lay on the sofa and she found it a struggle not to do so. Why did she always want to touch him?

  The movie she selected popped on.

  She grinned. “So much better than fighting for computer time.”

  Write sister here. My computer.

  The movie was a romantic comedy with that blonde actress who had such great comedic timing. She felt warm and peaceful and happier than she could remember. Johnny had given her something that she had been avoiding for so long she hadn’t even realized she was missing it—friendship. But she didn’t make friends. Too much risk. She yawned. Still, it would be nice. She hadn’t planned to doze off but she did and the next thing she knew the sun was in her face and she found herself stretched out under a coverlet on Johnny’s couch.

  She threw herself upright and scrambled to her feet. “Holy shit!”

  A moment later Johnny charged down the hall looking frightening as hell. He glanced past her and she realized he was searching for whatever it was that made her yell. She stilled, realizing he was searching for vampires. She’d actually forgotten that there were monsters out hunting for the captain’s wife.

  She lifted her hands. “I’m fine. It’s okay.”

  Johnny skidded to a halt.

  “But I fell asleep! I was here all night. Oh, God. What are they going to do to me now?”

  Johnny signed, Nothing. You with me.

  “I don’t have permission to come and go as I please. The captain said I could spend the day. Oh, I have to report in.”

  She asked to use Johnny’s phone and failed to reach her sergeant. Screwed, she realized as she made quick use of the bathroom before reemerging a few moments later, her face wet from the water she’s splashed over it.

  Breakfast? he asked.

  “No. I’ll see you at noon, Wolf, at the lab. If I’m not there come find me please.”

  * * *

  Sonia hit the trail and headed back to the base at a full out run. Once there she could not find her supervisor and knew she’d catch hell later but she had to get to the lab for Johnny. She missed breakfast and had time only
to grab a shower and change into her uniform before it was time to report. When she reached the medical facility it was to find her captain waiting for her like a one-man firing squad. Her stomach turned a full twisting somersault as she realized he had been looking for her. She snapped to attention.

  “Where is he?” he asked as he returned her salute with a slashing motion that reminded her of a machete slicing through the air.

  Her stomach dropped an inch as she realized that Johnny was a no-show. She’d been so caught up on her unplanned sleepover that she’d forgotten her job was to get Johnny’s furry ass to the medical facility.

  “He said he’d meet me here.” Had he? She wasn’t exactly sure what he’d said beyond offering her breakfast.

  “Do you not remember me telling you yesterday to bring him along, Private?”

  “I’ll call him, sir.”

  “He won’t answer,” he muttered as he reached for his cell phone and dialed. And he was right. Johnny didn’t.

  “He might be on his way.” Or she might just be done for.

  The captain stared her down. As she studied her toes waiting for whatever consequences the captain might deem appropriate his phone jangled. He snapped it on and lifted it to his ear.

  “MacConnelly,” he barked. His gaze flicked to her as he listened. “Got it.” He disconnected the call, his eyes still on her. “He’s here.” His tone changed, not friendly exactly but more respectful. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  Neither did she, but he seemed in a mood less likely to result in him tearing her a new asshole. Now the captain’s gaze turned speculative.

  She shifted under his scrutiny. Sonia needed to get something off her chest. Johnny’s revelation about the attack troubled her and she was pretty sure there would never be a good time to tell her captain about it. So she could either keep her mouth shut, which was better for her or she could speak up, which might be better for Johnny.