Shifter Overdrive (Paranormal Romance Boxed Set)

by Scarlett Grove

  “My bear form might be useful for catching fish and scaring off coyotes, but unknown paranormal creatures, no. I’m just an ordinary black bear.”

  He had a point. My nature witch sister and her bear-shifting shaman husband weren’t exactly cut out for dealing with goat-eating freaks. “Fine. Guys, I’ll do what I can. But I can’t identify it. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “Can’t you get information from the Council?” Aster asked, picking up baby Puma and rocking him as he began to fuss in his seat.

  “No. I told you. Freelancing is against protocol. I could get in trouble for this kind of thing, so I can’t look for any help from the Council,” I lied. Aster frowned and kissed her baby’s head.

  “I’ll be in your debt, Olivia.”

  “Just find me Benedictus. I could use it to help you now.”

  “I’m looking into it. Can’t you do it without it?”

  “Maybe. But considering Mom took my clothes, and I’m down to one sword and one gun and a box of silver bullets, I’m not prepared for a hunt.”

  “Why are you so low on supplies? Doesn’t the Council know you’re here?”

  I blanched. I hadn’t meant to reveal so much. The last thing I wanted was for my family to know I’d lost my job. It was dangerous enough for them already. If they knew I was no longer an Executioner, they might want me to stay in Portland or something.

  “They don’t. I came in secret. If you must know. That’s why I need the sword. It’s for a case I didn’t finish. The most dangerous monster I’ve ever fought. I shouldn’t even still be here.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Aster said, holding her baby closer.

  “We’ll offer any help we can in hunting the goat thief, Olivia. You aren’t alone in this.”

  “Thanks, Bear. I appreciate that.” And I did. It was crazy and so out of character, but hearing my kid sister’s husband tell me I wasn’t alone filled me with a weird warmth I hadn’t expected. Not that there was actually much he could do. Like he’d said, he was just a regular black bear in shifted form.

  He probably couldn’t take out the disappearing goat eater, let alone a vampire like Vincent. When it came to fighting, I was definitely on my own. In everything else, maybe not completely. I didn’t know quite how I felt about that. Maybe it wasn’t too bad.

  “You could ask Raven for help. He’s more suited for that kind of thing. Investigating and all that.”

  “Raven?” At the mention of his name, my whole body tensed up and my face burned. Bear gave me a strange look and the edge of his mouth twitched into a smile.

  “Yeah. He’s a detective. Maybe he can help you do some detecting. Figure out what that thing was so you can track it down and deal with it.”

  “It’s a thought,” I said, my voice croaking. I could barely stand being near Raven for a few moments, let alone working with him on a hunt.

  “I’ll text him on the witch network and tell him to meet up with you.”

  “No. That’s fine. I don’t need help.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’m sure my brother will want to help protect his family.”

  I sighed. Clearly, I was outmatched in this whole family loyalty thing. I couldn’t refuse Raven’s help if he wanted to give it. Witch families were obscenely loyal.

  “I’m going back outside to look for more clues. I’ll bury that goat and consecrate the land while I’m out there. Once I figure out what this thing is, I’m sure it will be easy enough to get rid of. Raven doesn’t have to get involved. I’m sure he’s busy with his police work.”

  “I’ll call him and tell him where you are.”

  “Great,” I muttered, standing from the table.

  “Are you hungry?” Aster asked as I went to the door. “It’s getting close to suppertime.” What was with this family, always trying to feed me?

  “I’m fine,” I said, opening the kitchen door. “I’ll eat later.”

  “By the way, Mom said to come back to her house.”

  “Right,” I grumbled as I closed the door behind me. The sun was tipping toward the horizon and the orange glow of sunset blanketed the farm outside the kitchen window. Opening the trunk of my Camaro, I gazed down on the small stash of equipment I’d packed in this car. There wasn’t much. Salt. Ashes. A bottle of dragon oil. I knew the consecration runes by heart. They had been imprinted in my mind during my Executioner training. Like many of the monsters in the supernatural world, not everything liked to stay dead. Who knew what would happen if that goat wasn’t buried properly? Better safe than sorry.

  I pulled my black bag of gear from the trunk and slammed it closed. Striding down the path along the river, my thoughts involuntarily drifted to Raven. He looked so good when I’d seen him earlier that day. His long, lean legs spilled into those dark-washed jeans. I sucked a breath through my teeth, like I’d been stabbed by a sharp object. Memories of Raven were like that, sharp and steely cold. And it was all my fault.

  I made it to the parcel of land I’d cleared earlier, the hoe and machete still lying on the rocky soil. The half-eaten goat was also still there, just as dead as ever. I dropped my bag on the ground and started digging. I needed a hole deep enough that the animal could decompose properly without being sensed by any other scavengers that might happen past the grave. Aster didn’t need anything digging the thing up again.

  Picking up the hoe, I started hacking at the earth until I had a hole that was about four feet deep. My warrior witch abilities helped me burn through the soil with superhuman speed. When I was done, I pushed the corpse into the pit as the sun sank behind the forest.

  Darkness fell around me and the air seemed to chill. I pulled a flashlight out of my bag and set it on a rock, pointed at where I worked. After I shoveled the soil back over the dead body, I began the consecration ritual. With the handle of the hoe, I drew the runes in the loose soil around the grave, speaking the purification spell that would free the goat’s body and soul from any taint or evil it might have contracted during its death. When I finished the last rune, I picked up the salt and sprinkled it in a zigzag pattern over where I’d buried the goat.

  I then grabbed the dragon oil and sprinkled it on the ground like holy water, finishing the purification spell. With the snap of my fingers, a spark lit over the grave, igniting the dragon oil in a green flame that burned low and hot. The fire lit up the darkness but quickly burned out, leaving me alone again under the blanket of blackness.

  “Pretty impressive,” a voice said. I spun quickly and grabbed the machete and flashlight in one swift pivot. Raven stood there, with his hands in his pockets, his dark eyes blinking in the glare of the flashlight.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “I just flew over. You seemed busy so I perched on that tree until you were done.”

  I grumbled, lowering the flashlight out of his eyes. “Shouldn’t sneak up on me like that. I could take your head off.”

  “I’d think an Executioner would know friend from foe,” he mocked. I frowned in the darkness. He was right, usually I would, but with my senses weakened I was no longer an amped-up assassin working for the Council of Elders. Now, I was just Olivia, warrior witch. And I had limitations. Not that I wanted him to know that.

  “I’m out of my element,” I said, shrugging. “I’m not supposed to do freelance work.”

  “It’s awfully charitable of you to help your sister like this, especially since it could get you trouble.” I could hear the sarcasm in his voice, but I didn’t have the patience to deal with it. They could think what they wanted of me. All I was here for was the sword. When I had it, I’d be gone. The Council couldn’t hold my freelance work against me after they took me back because I wasn’t technically an Executioner at the time.

  “Believe it or not, I care about my family. That’s why I need to get this over with as soon as possible.”

  “Sure. I know what it looks like when you care about people.”

  I ignored his remark. “B
ear offered your help finding the goat eater. If you want to help me with that, fine. Otherwise, I’m done here.”

  “My family’s safety is more important than anything,” Raven said, stepping back into the shadows. “We will continue this in the light of day.” His black leather clad arm swooped across his body, flashing into a black feathered wing. His entire body shifted and shrunk as he flew away with a caw into the forest darkness.

  Chapter 11

  Raven left me standing alone in the darkness, the flashlight’s glow shining on the space where he had just been. I frowned into the emptiness. I didn’t need his help or his attitude. This was all wasting my time. If I could just get the sword, I could find Vincent and defeat him. This goat guy was small beans. Sure, maybe he was dangerous, but he wasn’t even close to as dangerous as Vincent would be to my family. Part of me wanted to tell them the truth. Maybe it would be easier. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t face the shame of them knowing I’d been kicked out of the job I’d left them to take. It also wasn’t necessarily any safer for them to know about Vincent.

  Ignorance is not only bliss, it’s safety. If my family knew about Vincent, it would put them in a position to want to protect me from him. They were like that. Just like Raven, loyal to a fault. I knew they’d rally around me, and I couldn’t let them do that. I didn’t deserve it after what I’d done. I had to do this on my own, and that meant lying to everyone I cared about until I could leave them all again.

  I packed up my gear and hurried back to my car. Aster’s windows were dark, so I didn’t bother disturbing them to say goodbye. After throwing my stuff in the passenger seat, I drove off down the dark country road. It was a moonless night, and the blanket of stars over the expanse of farmland laid heavily over me as I drove. The pressure of that dark sky felt like a hand pressing down on me.

  I’d made so many mistakes in my life and everyone I’d hurt was coming back to haunt me, all at once. No matter how much I wanted to run away from the pain of it, the vise grip on my heart still ached in my chest. There was no running from that. It would take phasing into another plane of existence and maybe a quart of scotch to dull the pain. Right now, I couldn’t afford to do either.

  I had to stay here and stay alert. This wasn’t like my breaks between other jobs when I could zone out of everything. The stakes were higher. I was at war without backup. My allies were in the dark and defenseless against Vincent. Deep down, I didn’t know if I could win this battle even with the sword.

  Confidence in my skills had become my greatest strength, but now, I didn’t feel confident. I felt lost. For a warrior, that wasn’t a good place to be. I needed strength. I needed the iron will I was known for in the Executioners. For that, I’d have to pull it out of myself somehow.

  My dark thoughts swirled as I pulled into my mother’s driveway. I couldn’t bring myself to face her again. It was too much to ask. But I didn’t have any other choice. I sighed and opened my car door, trudging up to the front door of my mother’s house.

  Light still glowed through the windows, and I found her sitting in the kitchen, hand-stitching the needlework in her latest quilt. She didn’t look up at me over the red reading glasses perched on her straight nose. Her nimble fingers pressed the needle through the fabric and pulled it out the other side with a deft quickness that could only be supernatural.

  “Did you help Aster on the farm?” she asked, still not looking at me.

  “I did. I also found a goat-eating accountant hidden behind some blackberry brambles.”

  My mother slowly turned her face to me, her mouth a hard line, her brows knit together in confusion. “What are you talking about?” she asked me, holding the needle and thread taut over her quilt.

  “Just what I said. Some naked, middle-aged man was eating a goat raw on Aster’s land. He attacked me. When I tried to defeat him, he disappeared.”

  “That doesn’t sound right,” my mother said.

  No shit, Mom.

  “Obviously, this guy has been cursed or something. Humans don’t just go around eating goats raw or randomly disappearing into nothingness.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “Neither have I. That’s what worries me.”

  “Can’t you tell what it is?”

  She knew. I stood still and blinked, thinking up an excuse. It might be easy to fool Aster and Raven, but Nelly Fanning was a different story.

  “All I can tell is that he’s human. There’s dark magic involved, but he isn’t a paranormal creature.”

  “That’s all you see? Don’t Executioners have the power to determine what kind of creature they are dealing with?”

  “Like I said, he’s human. My Executioner skills only go so far,” I lied. If I’d still had my skills, I’d know exactly how to defeat him. I’d know exactly what he was.

  Mother hummed, looking back at her quilt. “There’s a pot of hot tea if you’d like a cup.” She nodded to the blue porcelain tea pot sitting on the big square kitchen table.

  I sat down at the table and poured a cup of tea. If she knew I’d been kicked out of the Executioners, it compromised my entire mission. Would she give me the sword if she knew I’d failed at the job I’d abandoned my family for?

  She could never know. I had to get the sword and leave so I could find Vincent and kill him. Then the Council would give me my job back, and I would have my life back. I could leave my family in peace, to live their quiet, happy lives in Portland.

  Sipping my tea, I stared at my mother as she stitched her quilt, trying to decipher what the woman knew. I couldn’t read her. I never could.

  “What is it, Olivia?” Nelly Fanning could always read me.

  “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

  “I made up your old room. You should get some rest. You’re going to take care of that creature tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I already told Aster and Bear I would.”

  “You know, Raven Hunter is a Portland PD detective. I’m sure he can help you.”

  I stood from the table, the vise grip on my heart tightening painfully. “So I’ve heard. Good night, Mother. Thanks for everything.”

  “Good night, dear. Sleep tight.”

  I hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, still holding the hot cup of tea. I’d forgotten to ask her about my clothes. I needed them if I wanted to fight the goat eater. I still had a few weapons in my Camaro and most likely could take care of the guy in about five minutes if had some insight into what made him tick. Tomorrow, I’d look into it more, do some research into the creature archives in the family grimoires. I no longer had access to the Council’s databases so the Fanning family archives would have to do.

  Standing at the door of my old bedroom, I shook my head. I’d sunk a long way, coming back here after five years to sleep in my teenage bedroom. It felt like only yesterday I’d left this room for what I thought would be the last time. Nothing seemed to have changed. Not even me. Who says you can’t go home again? You can always go home because home always remembers.

  I pushed open the door and a flood of memories nearly floored me. The twin-sized bed pushed against the back wall, covered in the same black bedspread. That was the place I’d first made love to Raven, deep in the night after he’d landed on my windowsill. I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me. Emotions scratched at my eyes and I felt the sickening twist of bitterness in my stomach. I wanted to retch, but instead I sat down on the bed and sipped my tea.

  Looking around the room, I noticed the band posters and drawings tacked across the walls. All dark and Gothic emo. I rolled my eyes at my younger self. God, I must have been a pain in the ass. Maybe I still was. Setting the cooling tea on the bedside table, I collapsed on the mattress and groaned.

  Bone tired, I breathed deeply, my chest rising and falling under the stupid overalls my mother snapped me into. I kicked off the boots and unbuckled the straps on the overalls. I shimmied out of them, leaving me in a T-shirt and panties.
Even the panties looked hickish, with a pink lace trim.

  Jesus. She never stops.

  I pulled down the bedspread and climbed under. Tomorrow I’d go shopping and get myself some new things. At least I could wear normal human clothing that suited me better.

  Reaching up, I clicked off the single light in the room, coming from the old black lamp beside the bed. Left in darkness, I was alone with my thoughts.

  Just as dark as the room, they swirled around my head. Questions I hadn’t entertained in half a decade stabbed at me like daggers. What if I’d never left? What would I be then? Who would I be?

  I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to block out my thoughts. I needed sleep, oblivion, release. It came quickly, my head against the softness of the pillow. Dreams tumbled through my mind like a fever. I woke in the dark, the dim blue light of predawn, smoky outside my window.

  Taking a deep breath, I lifted myself to sitting, placing my feet on the cold wood floor. I rubbed sleep from my eyes and pulled the overalls back over my toned body. God, I hated these things. Twisting my long hair into a bun, I tied it at the back of my head and trudged through the door and down the hall.

  A light shone from downstairs. Mother wasn’t awake already was she? That woman. Always on. I climbed down the stairs and found my way into the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. When I entered, I saw the petite form and bleach-blonde head of my sister Twyla. She was wrapped in a long, black silk robe that flowed around her slender frame. She turned to me, her eyes wide and vacant.

  She scared me sometimes. Especially as a portal catalyst, a skill that could only be used by others. The only time I’d seen that was the night Dad died. The night I left Portland forever.

  Now, Twyla seemed possessed. Strange. Her face was a blank mask the stared through me. Holding the coffee pot, she poured the dark brew into a white mug, her face not moving a muscle, her body rigid. Her eyes weren’t even blinking until she took a step forward and offered me the mug.