Shifter Legacies Special Edition: Books 1-2

by Mark E. Cooper

  “How did you do it?” she demanded to know when she reached him.

  Lephmann looked around at the police officers. “Not here.” He led her outside toward an enormous silver limousine.

  Geoffrey and Lawrence fell in behind her like the bodyguards they were. She looked back and saw Ken standing alone on the steps watching her. He looked lonely and sad. She checked her stride to go back, but he turned and went inside.

  “Chris?”

  “Yeah… yeah I’m coming.” She turned her back on Central, and trotted to catch up with the others.

  Lephmann held the rear door of the limo open for her. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  She ducked into the car and discovered a passenger already inside. She recognised him as Myles Thorne, a top-flight defence attorney and enemy of homicide detectives everywhere. He was only about forty years old, but his silver hair made him look older. It gave him the look of an elder statesman; a style he had chosen to fool juries into trusting him, making them think he knew what he was talking about when in fact he was conning them into finding his clients innocent.

  Chris preferred to sit facing forward, so she sat opposite Thorne. Lephmann sat next to her. Lawrence was driving; Geoffrey joined him up front.

  “What’s he doing here?” she asked, as Lawrence manoeuvred the huge car into traffic. “Tell me I don’t have him to thank for my release.”

  “You know each other?” Lephmann asked.

  Thorne smiled. “We’ve met a time or two.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” she said sourly. “Thorne used to spend his time releasing murderers back onto the streets. When he retired, we had a party at Central.”

  Thorne chuckled. “I didn’t retire. I just lost interest in—as you put it—releasing murderers back onto the streets. I moved into corporate law. Techtron pays the bills these days.”

  Lephmann nodded. “Myles has been invaluable to me and the Society. I asked him to help me get you out.”

  She scowled; she didn’t like owing Thorne anything. “Thank you.”

  Thorne laughed. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

  She ignored that. “Ken threatened to arrest me for murder this morning, but now I’m free and clear with no charges. How did you do it?”

  “I had very little to do with it. I suggested to David that he should concentrate on Jason Kirkwood. Being the only other witness besides yourself, he was in the best position to clear things up for you.”

  “But Jason is in a coma.”

  Thorne cocked his head. “Who told you that?”

  “Ken… Lieutenant Hart told me during my questioning.”

  “Hmmm. Disinformation is a classic technique used to elicit responses from a suspect. I would have expected you to realise what he was doing.”

  She shook her head. “Ken is good.”

  “He must be. I’ve worked with David and others long enough to know that shifters are hard to fool.”

  “I would have sworn any oath you can name that he wasn’t lying.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t,” Lephmann said. “If someone gave him false information, he wouldn’t have been lying when he told you.”

  She eyed Lephmann speculatively. “Sounds like something you’ve done a few times.”

  “It has proven a useful technique a time or two.”

  Lephmann’s too-innocent expression didn’t fool her. He hadn’t become so powerful by being a nice guy—or by telling the truth.

  “So, Jason’s not in a coma. How’s he doing?”

  “He died about an hour ago,” Thorne said.

  “Damn,” she said sadly.

  Jason hadn’t been a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but she still felt bad about his death. If she had been quicker to connect Ed to Ryder, she might have broken the case well before Jason fell into Ryder’s hands.

  Jason was a fool. Don’t blame yourself for his death. If he had not let himself be led by others into attacking Ryder, he would be alive today. If he had killed Ryder when he had the chance instead of just infecting him, he would be alive today. His choices are not your fault.

  I know, Furface, I know, but no one deserves to be tortured like that. He held out for days to protect his friend. That’s worthy of respect.

  “Did he say anything before he died?”

  Thorne shook his head. “Nothing you don’t already know. He made it clear that Ryder was the one responsible for his condition, but he couldn’t tell us where to look for him.”

  “You were there then?”

  Thorne nodded. “I was. David got us in as Jason’s guild representatives. The doctors didn’t want him to talk to us, but David persuaded them to wake Jason and let him make a statement to the police before they tried to treat him.”

  She frowned. “He didn’t die because of the delay, did he?”

  “No,” Lephmann said firmly. “The doctors knew Jason was dying almost from the first moment he was admitted to the hospital. Ryder had him too long. The silver in his bloodstream had already done irreparable damage to his organs, especially his liver. The blood exchange might have prolonged his life and his pain by a day, but no more.”

  That was something. She didn’t want Jason on her conscience too. She leaned forward a little to look out the window. “Where are we going?”

  “Techtron first.”

  “Why?”

  “We have a few things we need to discuss. You didn’t contact Jonas like you promised. He got in touch with me when you didn’t get back to him.”

  She reached for her link. “He was supposed to call me back, not the other way around.”

  Lephmann shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that. I’m just passing on the message.”

  She checked her link’s memory and discovered three missed calls. They were probably all from Jonas, but the numbers were blocked and she couldn’t be sure. She would try to reach him at work—she still had the number Lawrence gave her—but not now.

  “What was the message?”

  “He asked me to say he needs to see you immediately.”

  “I’m not going all the way to Victorville without knowing what he wants. I’ll call him.”

  Lephmann shrugged. “That’s your concern, but Jonas is reliable.”

  “I’m sure he is, but I have things to do and places to be. None of them includes Victorville.”

  The Techtron Building was a huge glass and chrome needle towering many stories higher than its nearest neighbours. Chris watched as they drew closer and wondered what Lephmann’s story was. It was common knowledge that he had once been a doctor and that he’d lost his position at Mercy Hospital when he was infected with lycanthropy, but what happened then remained a mystery. He’d simply shown up one day, the defender of non-humans, a man respected even by those who hated him.

  The car paused before a security door. A second or two later, the huge shutter rumbled up and the limo proceeded down into the ground. Techtron’s parking structure was huge. She wondered just how far down it went. The building was like a city unto itself with hundreds of corporations headquartered there. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the structure went down as far as it rose into the air.

  The limo finally came to rest in parking reserved for Techtron employees.

  She climbed out and looked around at all the cars. She had never seen such a display of wealth all in one place. There were Ferraris, Jaguars, Porsches, and Aston Martins parked side by side with the more prosaic Fords, Chryslers, and Toyotas. All of the cars, no matter their makes, looked shiny and expensive. A metallic blue Viper GTS caught her eye, and she went to check it out.

  “What do you think of her?” Lawrence asked, joining her.

  She stroked the glossy paintwork. “She’s gorgeous. Yours?”

  Lawrence nodded. “I’ll take you out for a ride sometime.”

  “Maybe I’ll let you.”

  “You can drive,” Lawrence said slyly.

  She grinned. “You’re on.”
/>   Lephmann looked impatiently at his watch. Chris joined him in the express elevator just a short walk from the car. There were only two controls next to the doors and a lock. Lephmann inserted a key, turned it, and pressed the up button. The elevator surged upward. There were no stops; it was a private elevator for Techtron executives.

  They sped smoothly up to the penultimate floor in the building. The 119th floor served as Techtron’s corporate headquarters. Unlike other companies that sublet some of their floor space, Techtron used the entire floor and areas of the 118th and 117th floors as well. The company was huge—the second largest in its field in the world.

  She stepped out of the elevator and murmured, “A monster run by monsters.”

  “That’s been said before,” Lephmann said. “But most you will meet here are Human.”

  “But not all?”

  “No, not all.”

  “That’s a neat trick… getting them to accept working with shifters I mean.”

  “It wasn’t easy, but if we can’t stamp out prejudice in a company we control, how will we ever do it in those we don’t?”

  “You won’t, you can’t. You never will.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Lephmann said tightly.

  Stamping out such prejudice against non-humans was part of NSPCL’s mandate. She had heard it quoted by newsies often enough to have the damn thing memorised. Stamping out prejudice was mentioned in the Society’s charter right up there with the protection and succour of its members. It was a nice idea, but a naïve one. In her experience, people did not give up their fears easily, and those fears were the source of their prejudice. The real problem was, they were right to fear non-humans. They weren’t called monsters for nothing. Vampires fed on people, and lycanthropy was incredibly infectious. Fear was the most sensible emotion to feel in her opinion.

  After saying a few words to Lephmann, Thorne left, and Lawrence did the same a minute or two later. She watched him go, a little put out that he hadn’t said good-bye to her. She frowned at the direction of her thoughts and turned her attention to her host. David Lephmann was an important man. If she hadn’t known it before, following him to his office would have put her straight. He was greeted with ‘morning Mr. Lephmann’ and ‘nice to see you again Mr. Lephmann’ at almost every turn. Her cynical side sneered at such obvious butt kissing, but Lephmann returned the greetings with a smile and a murmured response, using the greeter’s first name each time.

  She watched him walk his corridors of power and he never once failed to put those he spoke with at their ease. All of them left smiling and cheerful. She could sense who the humans were, and who the monsters were, but there were one or two people that didn’t fit the nice little boxes she had prepared. She needed a third, and possibly even a fourth, box to accommodate them. Frowning, she watched Lephmann talking to one of them. The woman scowled at her for staring, but although the look could have blistered paint, it glanced off Chris more or less unnoticed.

  The woman’s eyes and eyebrows were delicately slanted. She looked vaguely oriental, but she knew that impression was false. The woman definitely wasn’t Human. She had a long pretty face with high cheekbones and a chin that almost narrowed to a point. Her skin was fair and seemingly delicate, but from what Chris could see of her build, she was far from weak. Her makeup could have been professionally applied; the colours she had chosen suited her that well. She had white hair—white not blond—and she wore it in a long intricate braid that reached all the way down to the small of her back. The dark grey jacket and skirt she wore spoke of a woman very much concerned with image. She wanted people to admire her, but at the same time, she wanted them to see someone competent at her job. In that, she reminded Chris strongly of Agent Flint.

  She is not one of us.

  I know.

  Yes, but she feels almost like one of us.

  I got that too. Could she be another type of shifter do you think?

  No. Flint is a different kind, but this one feels nothing like Flint. There is magic in her. She feels like a witch, only different somehow.

  She’s a puzzle all right.

  Lephmann took the folder the woman offered him, and nodded as she pointed out one or two relevant portions among the reports it contained. The gist of the conversation involved a profit and loss ratio; something about a billion dollars over estimate on a research project. Lephmann didn’t seem dismayed, or even surprised by the figures. Chris shook her head at the amounts they tossed back and forth, and wondered how anyone could just shrug off that kind of loss.

  Her attention wandered and she checked the time. She was at least eight hours behind Ryder, and she didn’t even know where Sanctuary was yet. If Ryder knew where it was, and went straight there, if he got to Marty before her…

  He had better not, that’s all.

  Geoffrey wandered over to join her. “Take it easy. I know you must be impatient, but this is part of his job. No fighting is allowed here.”

  She frowned in confusion. “Who said anything about fighting?”

  “I can tell you don’t like Evelyn.”

  “Like her? I don’t even know her.”

  Geoffrey frowned. “I thought… sorry. I jumped to the wrong conclusion. What do you think of her then?”

  “I don’t think anything of her. She just doesn’t fit. She’s not Human—not completely. I know that. But she doesn’t feel like a shifter either. What is she?”

  “I really shouldn’t say. Our abilities make it hard to hide anything from one another. That makes what little privacy we can maintain very precious to us. Just so you know, Chris, asking personal questions among us isn’t done unless invited. It’s the same for most non-humans by the way, not just shifters. Evelyn won’t mind me telling you though; she doesn’t bother to hide it.”

  “Hide what?”

  “She’s part fey.”

  She studied Evelyn with renewed interest. “Really?”

  The Sidhe were incredibly protective of their privacy. Most stayed in Underhill and never left; they didn’t like the modern world with its reliance on machines. The few that did venture out preferred to live in the wild forests, away from humans and their technology. Iron and steel warped their magic and made them sick.

  “Her grandfather is a full-blood Sidhe warrior,” Geoffrey went on. “He’s ranked quite high in the Unseelie Court. He took a fancy to Evelyn’s grandmother, and they had a child. It happens more than you would think considering their dislike for humans.”

  “She doesn’t look like the pictures I’ve seen.”

  Geoffrey shrugged. “Her mother does, but Evelyn’s fey blood is weaker. Most people think her mother is Sidhe. I’ve met her. Nice lady.”

  Lephmann gave Evelyn some final instructions, and handed back the folder. Evelyn smiled at Geoffrey, glared again at Chris, and went back to her office.

  “Sorry about that,” Lephmann said. “Let’s get moving before something else happens.”

  Lephmann led the way through a pair of glass doors and introduced his assistant, Elaine Cunningham. Elaine was Human, maybe fifty to fifty-five years of age, and was obviously very fond of her boss. She stood to greet him warmly when he entered. Chris took Elaine’s hand for a firm handshake before following Geoffrey into Lephmann’s office.

  It was a huge room furnished with leather couches and chairs for entertaining business associates. The carpeting was luxurious and the desk looked antique. There was a computer and link combination placed at an angle on the desk just right of centre, a blotter dead centre, and a framed picture of Lephmann with his friends on the left. The view through the windows behind the desk was spectacular as if the entire city was there only for Lephmann’s personal enjoyment.

  She looked around and frowned when she noticed a spiral staircase in the corner of the office. What was such a thing doing in an ultra-modern edifice like the Techtron building? It seemed to be made of wrought iron and was probably another antique. It went through the ceiling to the floor abo
ve.

  Geoffrey crossed the room to the bar near the staircase. He offered Chris a drink, but she shook her head and turned to look out the windows.

  “Can I trust you?” she asked, taking in the view.

  Geoffrey paused for just a second, and then dropped ice into a glass. “I don’t think I’ve given you reason to question that.”

  Be careful. He belongs to Lephmann.

  He has his own pack though.

  True, but he serves Lephmann just the same.

  “Can I trust you?”

  There was suddenly a fruity scent on the air as Geoffrey poured his drink. She knew it from better days—Glenlivet. Mark had always preferred it to other malt whiskeys. She had never noticed it before, but it had a subtly spicy odour to it as well. She liked it. She turned and found Geoffrey watching her. He raised his glass, the ice clinking on the sides, and drank the richly gold liquid. It took a lot to intoxicate a shifter, but he wasn’t trying to get drunk. He finished his drink and put the glass on the bar. He didn’t pour another.

  “My loyalties are my concern, and none of yours.”

  “Third time’s the charm,” she murmured. “Can I trust you?”

  Geoffrey frowned. “You can trust me.”

  He speaks truth.

  “I know where Ryder is going.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sanctuary.”

  Geoffrey’s eyes widened.

  Her grin was very brief. “I’m going after him.” Geoffrey was already moving toward the door. She caught his arm and hauled him around to face her. “You said I could trust you.”

  “I’ve got to tell David and get over there.”