Shifter Legacies Special Edition: Books 1-2

by Mark E. Cooper

  Smoke howled with laughter. You can’t keep me locked away forever. Besides, you need me. What will you do when the Alley Dogs come for you, slap your thigh and say nice doggy?

  She scowled. “I’ll think of something.”

  I already have. Kill Pederson!

  “No,” she snapped. “There must be another way.”

  She paced around the table and kicked the heap of broken hover cams. She would have to throw them outside. They were starting to take up too much room. She frowned and kicked them again. The pile shifted and collapsed a little more, with the cameras sliding and spreading out. She needed some advice. She checked the time again, but realised it would be at least another hour before Stephen was awake.

  “Jonas,” she said to herself. “I bet Jonas will have an idea.”

  Jonas will agree with me.

  She shook her head. Where was the note Lawrence gave her? She frowned at the mess on the table and shuffled things around. She found it pushed part way under her computer and punched in the number on her link.

  “McNally’s Doughnuts, the best in the valley. What can I getcha?”

  She blinked and checked the number on her link’s display. It was right. “Jonas?”

  “That’s me. Who is this?”

  “Not one of your customers,” she said dryly. “It’s Chris Humber, you remember me?”

  “As if I could forget. Where are you?” Jonas asked intently.

  “My place.”

  “Get out of there! Christ, girl, I thought you had some smarts. Raymond is gunning for you. Everyone knows where your place is. Go to ground before someone puts you six feet under it!”

  Jonas is right; we should leave this place.

  She hurried into the front room and peered outside. There were dozens of people hanging around, but they all had the familiar look of newsies. As far as she could tell, no one was out there that shouldn’t be.

  “I need advice.”

  “I just gave you some. Get out now!”

  “I plan to, but first I need some information.”

  Jonas hissed in frustration. “Make it fast, and then disappear. I ain’t kidding, girl. Raymond wants your head. Get that pretty butt of yours out of state… maybe out of the country.”

  She snorted. “Not happening. Tell me how to end this without me getting dead or running out.” Jonas remained silent. Chris listened to his breathing, and wondered if maybe she should run after all. “Jonas?”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking.”

  “Think faster.”

  “Okay, listen. You won’t get out of this without a fight. You up for that?”

  She didn’t want to fight, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t ready if it came to that. Smoke was always ready for mayhem. If knocking some young pup on her butt was what it would take to get this done with, she would do it.

  “Yeah, if that’s what is takes.”

  “It’s that or run.”

  “I’m not running,” she said in a hard voice. “I’ve got things to do here.”

  “I’ll try to get the hit on you cancelled. Until I do, you’re still a target. Find a hole and pull it in after you. Stay breathing and keep your link with you. I’ll call when I know something.”

  Jonas broke the connection.

  She listened to the dial tone for a second. “I hate it when people do that.” She dropped the link into her pocket, and looked outside again.

  She had to get out, and if she didn’t want her place trashed she had to leave publicly. Besides, Jonas’ urgency had given her the jitters. Waiting a few hours for dark didn’t work for her. She stormed into her bedroom and grabbed a suitcase. She filled it with clothes, enough for a week, and threw her boomer and spare magazines on top. As an afterthought, she folded Marie’s dress and added it to the case.

  In the kitchen, she collected her research, not caring that she crumpled her papers as she stuffed them into the case. The computer wouldn’t fit; she would have to carry it. She threw on her coat, and stormed through the house like a whirlwind. She took the time to lock the door, and arm the alarm on the way out, before resolutely turning to face the mob of newsies. They bombarded her with questions as she forced a path toward her car.

  “…your position?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “… president Mitchell… the debate?”

  She loaded her things into the trunk of her car, and then turned to the newsies. She raised her hands for quiet. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen up. I’m leaving here for a couple of week’s vacation, so you all might as well go home. I won’t tell you where I’m going, so don’t ask.

  “As for my position regarding the amendments, here it is: I’m all for them. I spent twelve years of my life serving this city, and upholding the laws of our state. I believe everyone, no matter his or her race, deserves equal protection under the law. I have always tried to be even-handed with humans and non-humans, and would like others to treat me the same way. The amendments could help to make my life worth living again. That’s all I have to say.”

  “Miss Humber! One question…”

  “…your response to Professor Goddard’s plan to tag non-humans…”

  Chris ignored the questions and climbed behind the wheel of her car.

  Where are we going?

  “You’ll see when we get there,” she muttered. She started the car, and peeled away from the curb in a cloud of tyre smoke.

  * * *

  16 ~ Taking Charge

  Chris stashed her car deep within a parking complex where it wouldn’t give her away, and walked three blocks to Lost Souls. Walking the dingy streets of the Waterfront District that night, felt like the lowest point of her existence. She had let herself be forced out of her life almost completely. Leaving her home was like drawing a line under her past and starting fresh with nothing.

  It was dark, the streets still wet from the earlier rain. Light from the occasional streetlight or passing car reflected off the puddles; somehow, that made the street feel even more deserted. The walls of the buildings were grimy with years of pollution and defaced with graffiti. The gangs used graffiti to claim territory and spread news. The walls of their neighbourhoods were their bulletin boards. As she walked, she entertained herself by deciphering some of it.

  It didn’t matter whether a gang was Human or non-Human; they still had things in common. Things like tags and monikers. During her time on the streets, she had made it her business to learn which gang claimed what territory. She could read the signs as well as those who painted them. Being in the heart of Monster Central, most of the news had relevance only to those living here. A lot of the news was old and out of date. The most recent told her the Vice Kings had lost their turf war with the Counts. The Counts owned this street and those adjoining it. It made no difference to her why they were suddenly dissing the Vice Kings, but it did surprise her. They used to be allies.

  We are being stalked.

  She kept walking and under her breath said, “Are you sure?”

  Concentrate and you will hear them.

  She strained to pick up what Smoke was talking about, and thought she caught it briefly. She heard two pairs of stealthy feet trailing her. The urge to look behind her was almost overwhelming, but she mastered it.

  “Two of them.”

  Two behind, but how many ahead?

  She hadn’t thought of that, but of course there might be more up ahead. The two behind were only following. They had yet to do anything, and that meant they were waiting for something. She tried to feel anything amiss, but learned nothing. She sniffed, trying to catch the scent of shifters passing this way. The air was damp; the occasional alley they passed was smelly but deserted. She couldn’t tell if anyone had come this way recently. She thought not, but she might well be wrong. She was too new to all this stuff.

  Let me out.

  “No.”

  You will kill us both with your fear!

  “I’m not afraid of you,�
� she growled under her breath.

  It was the truth. She wasn’t afraid of Smoke, she was afraid of what Smoke would do. She couldn’t get Janine’s scream out of her head and didn’t want to kill anyone else. She thought longingly of her boomer in the suitcase. With that, she might scare away whoever was following her.

  I feel them. They’re moving in for the kill. Let me out!

  “I’m not taking my clothes off in the middle of the street so you can go hunting. I’ll fix this without killing.”

  How?

  She looked around and found what she needed. It was a narrow alley, where, if she was lucky, only one of them could come at her at a time. She quickened her pace and ducked into it. She heard a faint cry of surprise and smiled grimly. She stashed her case and computer against the wall where they wouldn’t get in her way, and put her back against the wall on the opposite side where the shadows were deepest.

  “I need your eyes,” she whispered. “Don’t try anything. Eyes only.”

  Smoke snarled angrily. You risk everything with your foolishness.

  “Eyes only,” she said again.

  She tried to will her eyes to change. The pain made her inhale sharply, and her vision blurred. Her eyes felt as if they were going to burst out of her head. Finally, her vision cleared and she blinked away stinging tears.

  “I don’t need you to make the Change,” she whispered in surprise. She had assumed she needed Smoke to do it. “I can do it myself. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Smoke remained stubbornly silent.

  It had to be about control. Smoke wanted to be in control of the Change, but theirs was a partnership. Neither of them controlled the other fully. They both seemed to have the ability to bring on the Change. Like Smoke, Chris could do it by force of will, but Smoke could also use strong emotions like anger to trick her into it. That meant Smoke had an advantage, but it didn’t mean she was stronger.

  She frowned; she didn’t think it did.

  The wary shapes of two men eclipsed the dim light filtering into the mouth of the alley. Now that she had the eyes of a wolf, she could see them perfectly. They were shifters, but they hadn’t made the Change yet. Her boomer would not help her against them; it wasn’t loaded for monster, with silver. She watched and listened to them whispering together. Her lip curled when she realised they were trying to talk themselves into entering the alley. She supposed amateur hitmen were preferable to professionals, but she couldn’t muster much enthusiasm. They were terrified of her; she could smell it on the dank air filtering along the alley. That realisation cheered her no end.

  Smoke dismissed their fears as merely her due.

  “…knows we’re coming… be ready for us.”

  “I need the money. You help me, or I swear I’ll rip your head off!”

  “She’s alpha, can’t you feel it?”

  “I don’t give a shit! There are two of us, we can take her.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “I do. Let’s get this over with.”

  Chris watched them move warily along the alley. She slowed her breathing, and remained absolutely still. They couldn’t see her, but although the alley stank, they would pick up her scent eventually. They knew she was here, but not precisely where. That was her only advantage. It was all she needed.

  The leader of the two stepped one pace too close before he scented her presence. He tried to duck, but she was blindingly fast. She reached out, clamped a hand around his neck, and slammed him into the wall. He cried out in shock at her speed and strength, and tried to wrench himself free.

  She felt blood welling over her fingers where his struggles had caused her nails to cut into him. She slammed him against the wall again to slow him down. His head struck the bricks hard, and his eyes glazed. Most of the fight went out of him. Smoke was growling and snarling, trying to give advice, but Chris didn’t need help. She was doing all right on her own.

  The knife slid into her back with hardly any resistance.

  Fool that she was, she had ignored the second shifter—the cowardly one. His knife went into her back, and then a second time. She screamed in shock as the ice-cold sensation in her back suddenly erupted into a volcano of heat.

  Silver!

  She had no reason to doubt Smoke. The blade was made of silver to cause maximum damage. She convulsed in agony. Without willing it, her hand—the hand holding the captive shifter—changed. Razor sharp claws sprang from the tips of her fingers, and buried themselves in the struggling man’s neck.

  “No!” she screamed in horror as blood fountained into the air and over her.

  The body was still falling as she turned in a rage upon her knife-wielding attacker. She grunted in shock as the knife punched into her belly over and over. He was so fast! She screamed and struck back. Her claws ripped into his face, and he reeled away from the force of the blow, but it was not enough to kill him. He came back at her, and she defended herself desperately with her bare hands. The knife was a blur as he slashed and thrust. She backed away, trying to anticipate his moves. Blood flew in all directions as she stumbled away from his ferocious attack. Her hands and forearms were cut to ribbons as she tried to protect her face and chest from the knife. An explosion of mind-numbing pain accompanied each cut.

  Let me out, let me out, let me out!

  “No!” she screamed and leapt upon the knife.

  It slid into her body easily, but this time she clamped a hand around her attacker’s wrist. The knife inside her felt like a fire stoked to life, but she wouldn’t let him pull it out. She wanted to scream, she wanted to rip his face off, but instead she made herself look into his eyes and smile. He paled and shook in fear. He wrenched at the knife trying to pull it free, but despite the renewed agony his struggles caused, she wouldn’t allow him to have it. The pain was building to a climax. The alley and the man’s panicked breathing faded in and out of her awareness. He hammered at her with his free hand.

  “Let me go,” he pleaded. “Please let me go. I didn’t want to do it… it was all Chico’s idea. I swear I didn’t mean it! Let me go…”

  “Let you go?” she asked vaguely. “Of course I will. Just let go of the knife, and I’ll let you live.”

  Hope blossomed on the man’s face, and he relaxed his grip.

  Her fist was like a steel clamp around his wrist, and she carefully moved his hand away from the handle of the knife buried in her stomach. With a snarl of anger, she twisted sharply. The snapping of bone was loud enough to hear over his scream of anguish.

  “Run away,” she said sharply. “Before I let Smoke have you.”

  He didn’t need telling twice. Cradling his shattered elbow, he ran up the alley and was gone.

  Take it out, take it out! Smoke howled. It hurts us, it burns us!

  Chris gripped the knife and tugged it free. She groaned and fell to her knees as blood gushed out. She clamped her hands over the wounds she could reach, and prayed that a shifter’s vaunted ability to heal anything would come to her rescue.

  Shifters were allergic to silver, and wounds caused by it took longer to heal… if they didn’t kill the shifter first. She needed help badly. Blood was still pouring out of her back, and she couldn’t reach the wounds to staunch them. The stab wounds in her belly weren’t bleeding as much, but they hurt worse. She knew what kind of damage she had taken. She had seen enough victims of stabbings in her time, most of them on a slab in the morgue. She was bleeding internally.

  She staggered to her feet, nearly tripping over the corpse of her attacker. Lord and Lady, she had killed him without a thought; killed him, not even on purpose but by accident! Two people had died at her hands now. She could blame Smoke for the first death, and did, but this one was all hers. She stared at the corpse trying to feel something—pity, remorse, anything. Was someone waiting for him to come home? Did he have a wife, children? She didn’t know anything about him, not even his name, and he was dead at her hands. She felt nothing for him at all. Even her guilt was self-c
entred. She wasn’t even sure it was real. It felt vague, as if she felt guilty because a civilised person should feel that way, not because she actually did.

  She weaved her way drunkenly along the alley. When she realised she was still clutching the bloody knife, she dropped it into her coat pocket. Her coat, and the shirt under it, were both shredded. Blood was still running down her arms and dripping onto the ground. Anyone who saw her now would run away screaming. Probably for the best, all things considered. She was dangerous; a dangerous animal. Isn’t that what everyone thought when they bothered to think of shifters at all? Of course it was, and they were right. Five or six weeks as a shifter, and already she had murdered two people. What would her score be by the end of the year?

  She wandered the streets in a daze. She didn’t know where she was or where she was going. Forcing her legs to keep her upright and moving took all her attention. She was leaving a trail of blood a child could follow. She stopped to lean tiredly against a wall and looked back. There was nothing she could do about the blood trail. If someone wanted to follow it and finish her off, he was welcome to try. She was too exhausted to care. She pushed off from the wall not caring that she left a bloody palm print over a Vice Kings’ tag. They would think a new gang had dissed them. She chuckled tiredly, and imagined some very puzzled gang bangers looking at her print.

  Although she was aware of her surroundings, it was only a vague awareness. She had lost a lost of blood, and her steps became ever slower as time passed. If it hadn’t been for Smoke keeping her on the right course, she would never have reached Lost Souls that night.

  Walls covered in colourful graffiti came and went, cracked pavement under her feet, puddles full of shimmering light, blurry headlights… a green door; a bloody hand banging insistently upon it, and then the same door with blood smeared over its paint and leading down to… her? Was that her sitting on the ground, and leaning against the door in a puddle of blood?

  Chris gasped and sat up in bed. It was dark, and her first thought was that she had been dreaming, but that was before she realised she wasn’t at home.