by Mia Taylor
Rochelle eyed him hopefully.
“Do you think you’ll be able to find him?” she whispered. “Do you think… do you think this could all be over?”
“I’m sure of it,” Magnus replied confidently, rising to help her to her feet. “We—”
The door opened suddenly and Magnus scowled as Forester sauntered in.
“This is a really bad time,” Magnus barked before he could stop himself, but to his surprise, Forester grinned.
“Well,” the sergeant chuckled, closing the door behind him. “Looks like I get to kill two birds with one stone.”
Magnus’ brow furrowed in confusion but when he looked at Rochelle’s face, he realized exactly what was going on.
“Hello, Jennica,” Forester chuckled. “Thank you for bringing him to me this time. I do hate dealing with all your friends.”
Chapter Ten
Confrontation
Rochelle felt her bowels turn to water, her face paling to a near-opaque as he advanced toward them.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Forester?” Magnus growled.
“Shh!” he giggled. “You’re ruining it by acting macho.”
Rochelle wanted to run but her legs were like rubber.
“You belong to me, Jennica,” Forester breathed, slinking closer. “I keep letting you go and you keep coming back to me. Don’t you see? It’s fate.”
“No…” Rochelle moaned. “Please, just stop this.”
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a flash of light and when she turned to look, her jaw dropped in disbelief. In Magnus’ place stood a massive grizzly, his fangs bared and furious as he lunged for the sergeant.
“GET OFF ME!” the older man howled but Magnus seemed possessed by a supernatural rage as he raised a clawed paw and swiped at his face. Rochelle could only watch in horrified amazement as the beast continued to attack, low, growling words emanating from his diaphragm as he did.
“You… are…. the… bane… of… my… existence…” Magnus wheezed between blows. “I will kill you…”
“MAGNUS!” Rochelle screamed and the panic in her voice brought him back to reality. Falling back and breathing heavily, he shifted back into his mortal form, watching as his boss bled from the gashes Magnus had inflicted upon him. But just as quickly as they had come, they began to heal and the men continued to glower at one another.
“What kind of sick—” he muttered, the fire in his eyes slowly dying out as he caught the anxiety in Rochelle’s face. “Go get some help.”
“Y-you…” she started to gasp but Magnus shook his head.
“There’s time enough for explanations later. Right now, this bastard needs to be confined.”
Backing out of the room, she nodded, her pulse roaring in her ears. Forester’s words echoed in her head again but this time, it wasn’t because of his threats.
“It’s fate,” he’d said.
It was fate, she realized, twisted and confused by the realization. Fate brought me into Magnus’ arms that night and fate brought Forester down.
“Are you all right, miss?”
She almost collided with a plain-clothed officer in the hall and she shook her head.
“No!” she breathed. “Magnus Galvin needs your help apprehending my kidnapper.”
The cop eyed her and she shook her head wildly.
“Please! They’re going to kill one another!”
He must have heard the panic in her voice and he sprang into action, rushing to assist her lover and the man who had terrorized her, but for once, her legs were slow and heavy. Her gait slowed and relief overpowered her.
Magnus had everything under control. He had protected her as he’d promised. She didn’t have to hurry anywhere. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Rochelle didn’t need to run.
The Great Wolf Escape
Scandalous Shifters
Book 1
Prologue
Sun flittered through the bountiful clouds, the serene light casting a sweet glow about the realm.
The gentlest sound of harp filled the succulent air, a scent of vanilla and incense wafting through the streets.
Vampires and dragons ran among the messengers, darting in and out of the buildings of marble, donning crosses and laughing among the animals who roamed freely.
It was the closest thing to the mortal heaven that any of the shifters could imagine but Jayce was oblivious to the glory of the day as he was most of the time. If anything, the brightness only served to anger him more. He opted instead not to look at all.
Why should he notice? Every day was the same ad infinitum. He’d spent his eternity in the afterlife, wondering just how he had managed to keep his sanity.
For most of his immortal life, he’d taken for granted that he would never die, but there he was. He reasoned that if he was to choose, he was in the best place, but that didn’t lighten his mood in the least.
His afterlife brothers and sisters nodded as he passed, and Jayce kept a smile plastered on his face, bobbing his head like a trained monkey, inwardly gritting his teeth.
This never gets tiresome for them, he thought, swiftly moving through the gold-paved streets, his pristine, white robes swirling about his feet effortlessly in the perfect breeze. Oh, how he longed to wear pants again, if only to visit a brothel for a day and have them removed.
They are a brainwashed bunch of sheep who know only one shepherd. And that shepherd may as well be in a coma or drunk for all he knows around here.
“Good morrow, Jayce,” Bria sang, dancing around him in her teasing fashion, scarves whirling over her head as she winked at him with crystalline eyes. “I hear you are on a mission from His Grace this morning!”
Jayce swallowed his displeasure and lowered his grey eyes stoically, clasping his hands before him as if to praise her words. He loathed to look at her, the memory of another just like her still etched in his mind with too much freshness. He forced the unbidden thought out of his head and focused on answering her query.
“I haven’t confirmed word on the matter of yet, but I am meeting with Michael when he deems the moment proper.”
“I had a vision in the night,” Bria chirped. “You are going to deliver the afterlife from evil and unite the shifters once and for all!”
Under normal circumstances, Jayce would resist the urge to snap her annoying, fluttering wings clear from her body and bid her good day. Of all the beings in the bright afterworld, only the prophet fairies still clung to life in any form. She could be killed, despite her allowance into the afterworld. Still, harming her or anyone else was forbidden, of course, and Jayce stifled the overwhelming desire. That morning, her prophecy stirred something in the depth of his chest.
It was a rare occurrence for Bria to call upon him with a sight and he knew he’d be a fool to dismiss it.
“Go on,” he demurred, eyeing her carefully. “Tell me of this vision.”
Bria laughed, a sound the others agreed was lyrical but made Jayce cringe to his core. Everything about her made him unhappy.
Her voice is akin to an untuned lyre, he thought, but he quickly shoved the bitterness from his mind. He wanted to hear her words for once, no matter how obnoxious the delivery.
She was a prophet fairy, after all, and no matter how he felt about her, she knew more than most. Ignoring her would be a mistake.
“You will learn all you must from Michael,” she assured him, whirling to leave, casting him a coy look as she did. When she winked, fury exploded inside him, stemming from his loins.
He wanted to scream after her as she licked her lips suggestively and spread her wings to soar away, her laughter taunting him in her wake. He wondered if she could read his thoughts and the idea enraged him more.
Perhaps that was the issue; he had always wanted to claim the fairy savagely and without regret. He worried that someone might learn about his dark, inner thoughts.
It was almost a non-issue now, Jayce knew, but there had been a
time when he had been fraught with concern that his darkest secrets would be exposed.
As it turned out, the afterlife worked more with an honor code than any real monitoring. The gods had reasoned that the shifters had behaved well enough in life to earn their spot in the bright realm; they did not need to be babysat.
Of course, Jayce was not most shifters and his place in the bright afterworld had been the subject of much scrutiny once upon a time.
The gods don’t know a damned thing here, for all their infinite wisdom, he thought, scowling inwardly, but still, he forced himself not to react… just in case. While he had never seen it firsthand, he had heard that the wrath of His Grace, overseer of all the gods, could be great.
While his observations of the afterlife utopia in which he had found himself had told him that the fear of His Grace was its only reigning principle, he could not be certain that His Grace himself was a functional authority figure, meant to instill order.
After all, no one had ever really met Him. Sometimes, despite the surreal environment in which he was surrounded, Jayce considered that he was actually on stage in a play and he and the other shifters were merely thespians.
Yet even after all the time he’d been there, Jayce couldn’t be sure, and it was not a risk he was willing to take, not when he had already come so close to ruining everything for himself all those years ago.
“Jayce, Michael awaits you!” Johann appeared at his side, a slight frown on his face as he watched the younger wolf shifter. Johann was arguably the oldest shifter in the afterlife—being younger was merely a default. If there had ever been an immortal to roam the earth before him, no one knew of it. It was rumored that he was built by the gods, but Jayce had long ago learned to take everything with a grain of salt.
“I am going to him as we speak,” Jayce sighed, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice. Bria had kept him longer than he was supposed to be and it was easier to blame her than accept that he was running late to meet the medium. Michael had always played messenger for the gods while Johann was the head of the sentry and messenger for the souls.
Johann was also his counselor and, if possible, more irritating than Bria.
Of course he is; he is at my side constantly as if he were a wet nurse. At least Bria keeps her distance and she is much easier on the eyes.
Jayce did not question why Bria did not take as well to him as she did to the others.
It is likely because she has lusty thoughts for me and fears she will give into her cravings if she ventures too close, he thought with a smugness he had no right to feel. The truth of the matter was that Bria likely had more good sense than most.
“You appear to be staring after the fairy Bria,” Johann growled, startling him from his reverie. Jayce did not respond, knowing whatever denials he offered would be dismissed. It was the downfall of having a counselor who had been around the block far too many times. There was simply no lying to Johann. He had seen and done everything.
Because this bloody bastard is always correct. How am I to survive in eternity with this man constantly looking over my shoulder?
Instead, Jayce hurried away to save himself from answering. He hoped to show his eagerness and not arouse more of Johann’s suspicions.
“Jayce, one moment!” Johann called, hurrying after him, but the blond did not slow his gait, eager to be rid of his tedious tail.
“What is it, Johann? As you have mentioned, I have an appointment with Michael.” It was difficult to keep the bite from his voice.
“You must heel a moment,” Johann gasped as he reached Jayce’s side. Fast movement was not on the messenger’s side.
The younger wolf swallowed a groan and paused to face his advisor with cold, grey eyes.
“What is it? I do not wish to keep Michael waiting.”
Johann nodded and lowered gaze.
“I know what it is Michael will ask of you and I fear you may not like it.”
Jayce became statue-still but not a word he spoke, waiting. If the conversation was starting like this, he had a terrible sense of foreboding already.
“You are free to refuse but I believe you are the best wolf for the task,” Johann continued, staring nervously at his hands as if the answer lay in his weather-beaten wrinkles. It was always strange to realize that Johann had aged, despite the fact that shifters were not supposed to.
Perhaps the original shifters continued to age. Perhaps the original shifters were not perfected.
Jayce admitted to himself that he did not care or he would have asked by now. He forced himself to refocus on his mentor’s words, eyes narrowing in alarm.
“What is it, Johann?” Jayce asked tightly but there was a foreign feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, one he certainly had not experienced since moving into the afterlife.
The feeling was fear and the realization scared him even more.
“Now, before you refuse, Jayce, you must know that Michael and His Grace would never put you to a task which they did not believe you could conquer. You have proven your strength and loyalty to Him and our realm through the most devastating choice.”
Jayce exhaled, and he knew he had a right to feel terror. His hunch had been correct, he was sure.
“It is Ashur, is it not?” he mumbled, already knowing the answer. “Ashur is the issue?”
Johann cleared his throat.
“There is word that he has escaped the dark afterlife to do the Commodore’s bidding,” Johann conceded.
“For what purpose?” Jayce demanded, the words filling him with uneasiness. “Why is he on earth?”
Johann paused, pretending to ponder the question, but Jayce could already sense the answer.
They have no real idea, he thought, his gut rumbling with apprehension.
“We are not clear as to his purpose, but he has been seen in the Americas by our scouts. He must be stopped.”
The last sentence was unnecessary. Jayce did not need to be told that Ashur was a danger to everything he had ever known. He always had been, after all.
It does not matter how much time passes, that wolf will continue to be a thorn in my side.
“Will you do it?” Johann pressed and Jayce realized he had been silent much longer than he had intended. “Will you send him back to the dark realm where he belongs?”
The blond wolf stared at the old one blankly, his mind awhirl. He knew what Johann expected him to say, what the gods wanted him to do, but he could not bring himself to agree.
“I cannot,” he whispered.
“You must,” Johann insisted. “It can only be you. Who knows him better than his own brother?”
“Half-brother,” Jayce corrected shortly.
They must never mistake us for full-blooded brothers. I would never have done what I did if Ashur was my full-blooded brother.
At least that was the refrain he played in his mind and what had helped him live with what he’d done.
“Still,” Johann pressed, sensing that Jayce might truly refuse. “You must agree that you are our best hope for peace. He is a menace to both the earthly world and ours.”
Jayce stared at the glittering bricks of gold beneath his bare feet, closing his eyes.
Why did you have to return? Why did you not stay cast out where I had sent you? he wondered mournfully. Why must you continue to torment me?
Jayce could think of only one reason why his brother had returned from the underworld.
He was seeking revenge.
Upon him.
“Jayce—”
“I will do it,” Jayce interrupted, darting his eyes toward the old soul, his full lips pursing into a fine line.
Johann’s face exploded into an expression of great relief.
“Michael will reward you for your trial and His Grace will bless your battles,” he assured Jayce, but Jayce was not so certain.
Michael will not reward me if he ever learned the truth. His Grace would most certainly unleash fury, not blessings, in that case als
o.
Jayce knew that His Grace must never know.
Not one must ever know. Ashur had to be stopped at any cost.
“You are a brave soul, Jayce,” Johann continued, linking his arm through his to escort him toward Michael’s glass palace. “I understand how this must conflict you, but you are a righteous being, one protected by His Grace and the kingdom for all of eternity.”
Do not be so certain of that, old man, Jayce thought grimly as they approached the gates of the palace.
“You are doing the right thing,” Johann assured him.
Jayce smiled.
I will do the right thing, he agreed. I will cast my brother back to the dark pits where he should have stayed. I must strike Ashur down before he comes for me and ruins everything I have worked so diligently to create.
Chapter One
They Got the Wrong Guy
It was one of those days which made him feel slightly less melancholy but no matter how hard the rain pelted against the sooty, filthy streets, the sensation never quite left him.
How could it? No matter how much he tried to assimilate, to belong, he was living the wrong life in the wrong place. He reasoned that the time for belonging anywhere had long since passed.
No matter where he looked or at what he tried to focus, everything felt wrong, from his emotions to his very skin. He tried to remind himself that none of it mattered, that his environment was as malleable as his life.
Ashur had a purpose that day, the same one which had followed him from the dark afterlife and into a new unspeakable nightmare—Detroit, Michigan.
It had not been Ash’s first choice, of course.
He had started in the slums of Rio and then in the back alleys of Havana. After drinking sangria in Mexico City, Ashur realized that he was setting his sights too high and eventually made his way into the dismal reality of America.
The streets here reek of despair and desperation, he thought. This is the place where I will regain my freedom and make peace with what I have become.
