Shifter Legacies Special Edition: Books 1-2

by Mark E. Cooper

  The laughter ceased and a rustle of movement broke the sudden silence. She aborted her plan to flee. If she fired the instant he appeared, she might get lucky and… it was too late to plan.

  “Should I show her?” Ryder muttered. “Do you think she’ll be impressed? All right then.”

  Before she could think about what he had said, the thing Ryder had become came for her in a rush of speed no man or woman could match. It was huge. A four-legged and furred creature bigger by far than any dog she had ever seen. It wasn’t a dog, but neither was it a wolf. A pair of golden eyes glared at her malevolently from a wolf-like head, but its muscular body made it appear a twisted caricature—part man, part wolf. It was a creature out of nightmare, neither one thing nor the other but both. He was almost on her before her brain caught up and sent the signal to her finger.

  Blaam! Blaam!

  Two shots rang out and hit Ryder in the chest, but he kept coming. He was on her in less than a heartbeat. His golden eyes were fixated upon her vulnerable throat. He snarled revealing a mouth full of sharp fangs. She crashed to the ground under his weight and fired twice more into his chest.

  Blaam! Blaam!

  “Please don’t…” she whispered just as his huge jaws clamped down.

  Pain beyond anything she had ever felt erupted in her neck and shoulder. She screamed long and hard, beating frantically on its head with her gun. The beast shook her in its massive jaws as if annoyed at her defiance, and flung her aside. She crashed into something and flopped to the ground.

  Dumpster.

  Still screaming at the burning agony in her wounded shoulder, she fired until her boomer clicked empty.

  Blaam! Blaam! Blaam! Blaam! Click, click.

  Her head rolled from side to side as she tried to focus bleary eyes on Ryder. She was in shock. She knew what it was like from past experience. Her good hand, still holding her boomer raised, shook so badly she almost dropped it. Sweat suddenly burst out all over her, but her teeth were chattering. She was hot and cold—her senses reeled.

  Got to stop the bleeding… oh Lady, where is he… it?

  She ignored the bleeding and fumbled one handed for her spare magazine, but her pocket was empty. It must have fallen out. She reached awkwardly for the Remington, but her fumbling fingers couldn’t seem to grasp it. She blinked sweat out of her eyes trying to see Ryder. Her flashlight lay discarded upon the ground, but its beam still faithfully illuminated the alley… and what it contained. She watched Ryder approach with a grin of fear and pain locked on her face.

  “AEiiiiiiiiii!” she screamed as his jaws clamped down on her arm.

  Ryder started to drag her up the alley, and she kicked him as hard as she could in the ribs with the pointed toe of her boot. He howled and raked her with his talons. Her clothes were ripped apart, and fresh agony seared through her as his claws buried themselves in her belly. She screamed and screamed as the monstrous creature went into frenzy at the smell of her blood, but such pain could not be endured forever.

  Silence fell over the alley. There was no pain now, no sense of anything except floating gently upward. She stared unblinking past the golden-eyed creature as he shook her to and fro.

  * * *

  6 ~ Shifter

  “And now closer to home,” the news anchor said with a gentle smile.

  Ken watched the vid behind the bar with tired and haunted eyes. He raised his glass, threw back his head, and swallowed the bourbon with one convulsive gulp. He grimaced at the taste before slamming the glass back down on the bar.

  “Hey, cut that out!”

  “Another.”

  “You’ve had enough, buddy,” Larry said, more kindly this time.

  Ken didn’t want kindness; he wanted that night not to have happened. He wanted to sleep without nightmares, and to be able to think about his partner without seeing an alley covered in her blood. Oh Lady, he wanted to stop seeing the pathetic dying remnant of a woman he had found that night.

  He slammed his hand down on the bar and removed it to reveal his badge lying there. “Another.”

  “Okay, okay. You want to kill yourself, go ahead. Its not my—”

  Ken gritted his teeth. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

  “Fine!” Larry banged a bottle down next to the badge and liquor sloshed onto the sticky bar. “Pour it yourself.”

  Larry turned and stalked away in disgust.

  Ken ignored Larry’s grumbling and poured a triple. He looked at it and drank it down. He coughed a little at the harshness. He wasn’t much of a drinker usually. A beer with friends normally satisfied him, but things were far from normal.

  He took a handful of nuts from the bowl Larry always left out and ate them before pouring another drink. The broken-down robot that Larry refused to part with seemed to look on him with pity in its glassy eyes. The pathetic thing was so old it could hardly move from its spot behind the bar. It predated Larry’s ownership of the place, but he had refused to get a new one, insisting it was some kind of lucky charm. Besides, he was happy to tend bar himself and didn’t need help, robotic or otherwise.

  Ken turned his attention back to his drinking. He needed to chase the image of Chris’ ripped and mauled body out of his head for a few hours. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard they hurt, but still he saw her.

  “Ken?”

  He didn’t look up from the bar. “Any news?”

  Flint sat beside him. “Nothing yet. You okay?”

  Ken frowned and considered the question. “No… I don’t think I am. I can’t believe that arsehole Grinely never showed up. I went round there and told him what had happened. I even offered to give him a ride to the hospital, but he said he wanted to make his own way there. I can’t believe the bastard never showed… I just can’t believe it.”

  “You can’t blame him.”

  “Why not? Why the hell not?” Ken asked angrily. “They’re getting married! That means something. It means you love each other no matter what happens! She loves him, Flint, she really does and that arsehole…” He took another pull on his drink. “I feel like beating the crap out of him.”

  The silence stretched out.

  Larry came by and Flint nodded at Ken’s choice of drink, holding two fingers up. Larry poured her a double, but he obviously disapproved. It was almost funny—a barman disapproving of his customers wanting a drink. Ken didn’t laugh though. He felt wrung out, as if all the laughter had been squeezed out of him leaving nothing but rage.

  “She’ll make it.”

  “Don’t!” Ken said harshly. “Just don’t, okay? I don’t want to hear how she’ll be okay. I want to see it. You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that kind of thing. Everyone says it when one of us goes down, and no one really means it.”

  “I know, and I do mean it, Ken. I’ve been where you are. It’s never easy losing a partner.”

  “I didn’t lose her! She was stolen... besides, she’s not gone yet.”

  Flint remained wisely silent and threw back her drink in a convulsive swallow. She shuddered and gently replaced the glass on the bar. At some other time, Ken might have mentioned the inadvisability of a woman drinking so hard, but he simply copied her and raised the bottle for a refill. Flint covered her glass with a hand and shook her head when he made to replenish hers.

  “I wasn’t always a Fed,” Flint said, staring at her empty glass and not bothering to check if Ken was listening. “I was a cop back east—Homicide. My partner and I were called to a scene. There were bodies all over the place. Shot in the head, in the chest, in the guts. Some hopped-up bastard had gone into the mall and just started shooting. Anyway, Jess and I caught up with him and took him down. Afterwards we helped the med techs go through the place looking for anyone still alive, and Jess found one. He’d been hit bad. I couldn’t see how he had a hope of making it.”

  “A shifter?”

  “We didn’t know then, but yeah. Jess sort of covered the holes in his chest with her hands so he could breat
he, and waited for the techs to come, but he woke up and attacked her. Hell, it wasn’t even the poor guy’s fault. He was in a lot of pain and coming awake like that... well anyway, they executed him later of course. I feel kind of sorry about that now, but not then.”

  “And your partner?”

  “Jess survived the attack, but you know…” Flint shrugged. “Everything was different for her after that. About a year later she committed suicide.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. We were more than just partners; it wasn’t just the job with us.”

  “Yeah. Chris and me have always been tight. You probably heard about her first partner, huh?”

  Flint nodded.

  “John died in the line. Chris was really broken up about it, but then I got partnered with her… oh boy, was she a hard arse! She didn’t want anything to do with me. She even went to Cappy to get me reassigned, but he wasn’t having any of it. He’s been through it, so he knew what was in her head.”

  “She went after the one who killed her partner?” Flint guessed.

  “Stanton, yeah. She tracked that mother for months, smashing every stinking deal he made, rousting every lowlife weasel he’d ever known until no one—not even his own people—would go near him. Up ’til then he’d been a big man, one with connections, but Chris hounded him until he had no choice but to take her out. When he tried, she killed him.”

  Flint’s eyes flickered. “I’ve read her file.”

  “I figured. Anyway, Stanton clipped her before she took him out, and that made her cranky. Cappy put her on a desk for weeks. She would have done anything to get back to the streets… even if it meant taking Baxter for her partner!”

  “He’s not that bad. He’s just misunderstood.”

  Ken snorted. “If you say so.”

  Flint grinned but then she sobered abruptly. “Listen Ken, you’re going to hear this sooner or later, so I’ll tell you now.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “The Bureau has sent another agent. I’m on my way to a meeting with him now.”

  “They’re not reassigning you are they?”

  Flint shook her head. “As far as I know we’ll still be working to find Ryder, but it will be a separate investigation. Captain Stokes was told this morning.”

  Ken frowned. The attack on Chris might warrant a separate federal investigation. Might. She was a police officer attacked by a shifter after all, but why duplicate all the effort already put in on the case? It was a waste of resources.

  “I don’t get it,” he said. “Why split up now?”

  “It’s not my decision.”

  Ken glared. “It sure as hell is! You can have an opinion. You could have told them it was a bad idea to split up the team.”

  “You don’t understand, Ken. I can’t tell you everything, but the agent I’m to meet outranks me. He’s here to find out how and why I screwed up.”

  “You didn’t screw up. If anyone did, it was me. I should have stopped her going after Ryder. I should have been there with her.”

  “You mean instead of her, don’t you?”

  He scowled. “I said with, I meant with.” Flint stared at him with knowing eyes and he looked away. “What are you going to tell him?”

  “The truth of course. I’ll tell him I let Chris piss me off, that I let my personal feelings get in the way of my job and let her push me out of the stakeout.”

  “Goddess…” he breathed in dismay. “Don’t be an idiot!”

  “I am an idiot. If I’d been there, Chris wouldn’t have been hurt. I guarantee you that.”

  It was his turn to stare. Flint’s face looked hard and her eyes glittered malevolently. He didn’t doubt she believed what she said, but it was crazy talk. No human could match a shifter one on one.

  Flint stood. “I’ve got to go. If you need someone to talk to...”

  “I’ll call.”

  Flint nodded and left.

  Ken poured himself another drink and returned his attention to the news report.

  “…in protest for the lack of funding. Sources in the police department have indicated the situation will continue to worsen until proper legislation can be passed securing police officers the right to carry suitable ammunition for these situations. Here’s our reporter, Ed Davis, with the latest. Ed.”

  The picture split to show Sue in the studio looking solemnly at a screen showing a scene miles away. Davis was standing outside a building with a crowd of people in the background holding placards and shouting.

  “Thanks, Sue. As you can see behind me, the protesters are very vocal on this issue. The attack on homicide detective, Chris Humber, by an as yet unnamed lycanthrope—the sixth such attack this year—has sparked off an even bigger debate regarding preternatural creatures.”

  “You said preternatural creatures,” Sue said in a staged question.

  Davis nodded. “That’s right, Sue. President Mitchell used the label to describe any creature falling outside of the mundane during his speech before congress two weeks ago.”

  Ken clenched a fist in anger at the thought of giving shifters even more freedom to kill and maim. It wasn’t right!

  “…include magical or supernatural?”

  “That’s one of the main issues, Sue. Concerns have already been raised regarding the proposed removal of such classifications as paranormal, supernatural, and magical from the Constitution. As you can hear behind me, many people are opposed to relaxing the restrictions. They’re campaigning hard to have what they call monsters put down.” Davis turned to a man standing a short distance from him. “Professor Goddard, you have been very vocal in your denouncement of the government’s handling of the situation.”

  “That is correct,” Goddard said. “This government—and President Mitchell in particular—has adopted a wait and see policy that has cost lives and destroyed families. What happened to Chris Humber this week merely emphasises my point. I have stated in no uncertain terms, that these creatures are dangerous and should be tagged for the good of all. I hesitate to go further and support the suggestion of Mr. Newman, but—”

  “I’m sorry, Professor,” Davis broke in, “but our audience might not be aware of Mr. Newman’s stance on the subject. Do you mean his suggestion regarding the eradication of those creatures deviating from the mundane?”

  “Essentially yes. Many of President Mitchell’s preternatural creatures are beneficial to the world, but unfortunately these so-called good creatures are in the minority.”

  “Give us an example.”

  “Well I…” Goddard said, clearly not expecting the question. “I would class the dragons as good for instance, and of course any undead creature is by its very nature evil.”

  “Why by its nature?”

  “Vampires and ghouls require the living blood of their victims to survive and—”

  “Yes, but by your definition Humans are evil too. Do we not require the death of animals to live?”

  “It’s not the same at all! We don’t go out and attack people—”

  “Some of us do just that, Professor, but I do take your point. You would advise President Mitchell to destroy these creatures then?”

  Goddard grimaced. “I’m not one of Newman’s AML fanatics, Edward. I would advise the President to weed out those creatures that are inimical to us, but he will not.”

  “Weed out? You mean kill them don’t you?” Davis asked, but before the Professor could answer, he hurried on. “By stating the President will not follow your advice, you are referring to his speech emphasising tolerance?”

  “That and his move toward integrating them more fully into society.”

  “Thank you for your thoughts, Professor.” Davis turned back to the camera. “Whatever the decision regarding these very special people, one thing remains clear. Amendment or no, they will find scant acceptance in Chris Humber’s neighbourhood. Over to you, Sue.”

  “Thanks, Ed,” Sue said with a small smile. “That was Ed Davis live out
side of President Mitchell’s campaign headquarters.”

  Ken stood to leave. He couldn’t stomach listening to anymore of this. They should ask someone who knew what he was talking about. He could have told them what to do about shifters. Kill them all! No matter how they looked, those things weren’t human. It was time he realised that and acted accordingly.

  “Hey,” Larry said. “You forgot your badge.”

  He stopped and turned to look at it on the bar. It had meant something once, it had meant a lot, but now he didn’t know what to feel. He picked it up.

  “Thanks Larry. I owe you one.”

  “No problem.”

  * * *

  David Lephmann had chosen to arrive early in order to familiarise himself with the studio surroundings. Unfamiliar things always unsettled his kind. Ronnie had accompanied him, of course. She rarely left his side. Lawrence had opted to wait in the car. The studio lights and unfamiliar scents of camera crew and stagehands would have driven him buggy. They had certainly affected David that way at first.

  “Take off your shirt, please,” the sound tech said in a breathy voice.

  He gritted his teeth. She was a seeker. The way she looked at him with her too bright eyes and flushed cheeks shouted it. Ronnie rolled her eyes at him in amusement. It might have been funny to her, but to him it was an intrusion he did not need. It made him wish for Lawrence’s presence. Another male might have lured the silly bitch away from him.

  Under the burning eyes of the sound tech, he took off his shirt and let her wire him for the microphone, which she did with lots of accidental caresses. She stroked his back with the backs of her fingers as she tucked the relay into the waistband of his trousers, and then she laid hands on him while he put his shirt back on over the wires.

  “I have to make sure they don’t show,” she said, breathing on him.

  He snarled inside, but outwardly he was calm, calm, calm. He didn’t need any more bad publicity. Not today of all days.