Shifter Origins (Series-Starter Shifter Variety Packs Book 1)

by Aimee Easterling

  On the contrary, Finn's body language as he strode into the trees might as well have been flipping her off. His lashing tail and slinking posture had suggested the jaguar was glad to see the back of El Azuzul...and, presumably, of the woman he was walking away from as well.

  Still, if the shifter had really meant to leave Ixchel for good, would he have allowed his backpack to remain lying on the ground beside their haphazard archaeological excavation?

  The parcel in question had been drawing Ixchel's eyes for the last hour, ever since she'd pulled herself out of not-so-fond reminiscences of her brothers' escapades. Yes, ask your darling shifter that question, Tezcatlipoca had suggested when the vet had pondered how her partner was able to pull a camping shovel out of his voluminous pack right when it was needed. And, even though the wind god had merely been trying to stir up trouble—Ixchel knew Tezzie well enough by then to tell when he was yanking someone's chain—she couldn't help wondering what Tez knew about her human companion that Ixchel didn't.

  And she also couldn't help wondering whether the contents of Finn's backpack would clear up the mystery.

  Of course, any woman knew that you don't go through someone else's purse—or backpack, as the case may be—without permission. It wasn't as if she and Finn were a couple, with behavioral hints indicating that he might be cheating on her. Even if that had been the case, in fact, Ixchel would have hesitated before invading her lover's privacy.

  "But, maybe the contents of Finn's backpack will help me guess whether I should leave his things here in case he comes back. Or whether I should take them with me."

  It was a self-serving argument and the vet knew it. But her hands were already unzipping the flap even as Ixchel promised herself that she was just sneaking a quick peek. After all, if there were electronics or other items inside that might be damaged by water, Ixchel should at least find a way to stash the items somewhere dry in case it rained during Finn's absence.

  Not that Mexico was currently experiencing its rainy season. Not if the parched state of the soil before the day's deity-induced deluge was any indication.

  On the other hand, if the pack was merely full of non-perishables, emergency blankets and other camping gear, then Ixchel should probably leave it where it was. The shifter might need equipment when Tezcatlipoca finally let him out of his grip. Plus, it would be good to know whether Finn had his cell phone on him, just in case he wanted to give her a call....

  The shifter's cell phone wasn't present in the pack, but Finn seemed to have tucked away everything else except the kitchen sink. No wonder he'd been forced to check his luggage before getting on the airplane, despite clearly not wanting to allow the bag's contents to leave his sight. Because the satchel was full of several objects that Ixchel couldn't quite identify...along with other items that she, damningly, could.

  There was a laptop, which Ixchel refused to allow herself to boot up. And little devices that she was pretty sure were spy cameras. The vet found something that resembled a toy helicopter but that she thought might instead be a surveillance drone. And there were also wads of cash in both American dollars and Mexican pesos, in addition to several other currencies that she didn't immediately recognize.

  Added to that evidence was a map of Ixchel's West Virginia county. A map with Mirabelle's dig circled and with various potential escape routes marked thereon. When the vet peered closer she also saw that yes, there on the corner of the page was her veterinary practice, marked "emergency medical care" and "woman lives above shop; alone from 6 pm to 8:30 am."

  He'd scoped her out. Finn had sat at the edge of the trees and watched until he'd sussed out his prey's daily routine. Maybe he'd even set up one of these clever little spy cameras to record her actions while he was busy checking out other locations marked on the map. Ixchel shivered, remembering how she'd considered her practice's remote location a reason not to buy curtains, and she wondered what Finn had seen that he shouldn't have.

  The conclusion, unfortunately, was clear. The shifter whom she had so trustingly snuggled into bed with last night had considered Ixchel easy pickings. And she had proven him right.

  But I knew that, the vet reminded herself. How could she forget meeting Finn at knife point? The shifter had needed his bullet wound stitched up and he hadn't hesitated to take what he wanted. Surely that type of introduction wasn't grounds for a lasting relationship....

  And then I hared off to Mexico with this criminal? Without telling anyone where I was going?

  It had made so much sense at the time. Mirabelle was presumably hot on their trail, so Finn had talked his companion into using the passport listing her own first name with a last name she didn't recognize. That right there was probably a felony.

  Then Ixchel had told her receptionist to close the veterinary practice, but hadn't mentioned where she was going or when she planned to come home. Probably because she didn't possess either piece of information herself. But the oversight also meant that her traveling partner had nothing to stop him from stealing everything she owned and leaving her stranded somewhere in Mexico.

  Not that Finn had done any of those horrible things. Well, except for the leaving her part, which felt horrible enough.

  "You sure know how to pick 'em," she berated herself aloud, pushing each incriminating piece of evidence back into Finn's pack. "You'd think with brothers like mine, I wouldn't be attracted to the bad boys."

  Then, reaching up to grasp her necklace, Ixchel shivered as her mind abruptly cleared. Yes, Finn's past must have involved facets she definitely wouldn't approve of. But the shifter had never been less than a gentleman—knife aside—and he'd never lied to her. Instead, Finn had admitted to stealing the were-jaguar figurine, and Ixchel herself had seen that his antagonist—Mirabelle—was bad news.

  Plus, now that the necklace's calming power was easing her angst a little, the vet remembered how Finn had closed both his eyes in the cat sign for reassurance right before turning his back on her and walking away into the forest. The jaguar had tried to communicate after all. Surely that counted for something?

  "But I really can't sit here overnight on the off chance he'll decide to come back to find me," Ixchel said to the decayed pyramid, the swamp, and the gnarled old tree. "So I might as well do what I can for Ixxie in the meantime and not focus my energy on something I can't change."

  The vet would simply have to trust that Finn was doing what he could to get the wind god off his figurative back. She'd have to trust that if Finn was meant to be part of her life, that he'd find some way to meet up with her in the near future.

  And, when the shifter did materialize in her life once again, chances were good that he'd need his backpack of super-secret spy paraphernalia.

  So, with a sigh, the vet picked up the offending parcel, slung it into the back seat of the car, and programmed the GPS for her next location.

  Chapter 27

  So that's how you want it to be. Tezcatlipoca had begun with threats, had progressed to complaints, and was now moving on to his third line of defense—the simple refusal to shut up. Well then, I guess it's time to bring out your reward a little early and prove how much I appreciate your past and future assistance.

  Despite the twitching in his whiskers that suggested giving in to Tez's taunts was a bad idea, Finn found himself answering the god as he continued to place one pad in front of the other, stalking in a straight line toward he knew not what. My reward, huh? the shifter thought loudly, having perfected the ability to communicate with his pet deity nonverbally over the last couple of hours spent running in feline form. Call it what you like, but somehow I don't think I'm going to enjoy what you have to show me.

  Au contraire, Tezcatlipoca responded in his rather terrible facsimile of a French accent. You wanted to meet another were-jaguar, and your wish is my command. Turn more toward the east and you'll find your precious shifter before nightfall.

  It was a trap, of course. Tezcatlipoca did nothing out of the kindness of his heart, as evid
enced by the fact that Finn had been within a few hours' run of another were-jaguar all afternoon without Tez making any effort to alert him to that fact. Probably this other shifter—if he even existed—was territorial or otherwise likely to give Finn the middle finger on sight. And from the tone of the wind god's voice, the deity was probably looking forward to the expression of despair on Finn's face when he was blown off by the only other member of his race that he'd met in his not-so-long life.

  But...but...wouldn't it be worth fending off an attack if his opponent turned out to be another were-jaguar, even an unpleasant one? Finn had grown into his abilities since being forced to flee the claws of his mother and sister, and he was pretty sure that he could take care of himself against another feline now. And perhaps Tez wasn't well-informed about the unknown shifter. Maybe this other were-jaguar would eventually become Finn's friend....

  Added to which—what else did Finn have to do with his time? The shifter's goal all afternoon had been to put as much distance between himself and Ixchel as possible in order to prevent any godly manipulation of the veterinarian. Along the way, he'd stopped for a quick snack consisting of a rather large iguana and had then sucked up a good long drink from a forest pool. And now, since he'd (hopefully) managed to achieve his goal of protecting the veterinarian by putting so much distance between them, there wasn't much else to fill Finn's hours while he held his ground against Tezcatlipoca.

  So the were-jaguar sighed and gave his pesky god exactly what he wanted. Turning away from the setting sun, Finn continued to move deeper into the forest.

  THE SHIFTER WAS SO intent upon the smell of young-male-jaguar that he almost ran smack dab into the human who was stalking the same prey. The bulky man entered the clearing from the other direction, walking nearly as silently as Finn's own paws had on the dry leaves beneath both of their feet. And if the newcomer hadn't been humming a jaunty tune, Finn might have stumbled right into the path of his semi-automatic rifle.

  The same rifle that had torn a hole in Finn's arm two days prior. A rifle wielded by a human that Finn thought he'd seen the back of.

  Mirabelle.

  The shifter stopped in his tracks, counting on his dark fur to blend into the shadows that were beginning to fill the forest. He'd been circling this same clearing for the last hour, trying to get a line of sight on the jaguar—were-jaguar?—that he'd smelled from a distance. But no matter how hard Finn peered between tree trunks, he'd been unable to find anything alive to match the scent. And—at a time when the shifter could finally use some godly advice—his elusive deity had gone strangely silent.

  Unwilling to enter a dicey situation blind, Finn had continued to circle the clearing...until this blast from his past showed up to move the drama along.

  "Anybody home in there?" Mirabelle called out as he reached the center of the clearing. The man halted, then peered intently at the ground a few inches ahead of his feet.

  From Finn's angle behind his foe, the archaeologist appeared to be staring at nothing. So the shifter cautiously eased a bit closer to the gap in the trees, trying to determine what the man was fixating on. A cave?

  At which point Tezcatlipoca finally decided to chime back in. Not a cave, you absurdly innocent jaguar, the god said. Try that limb over there. It'll give you a better view of act three.

  Without conscious volition, Finn found his head moving to pinpoint a horizontal branch wide enough to support a jaguar while still arching over the edge of the clearing. True, the shifter would likely be able to take in what Mirabelle was looking at from that vantage point...but he'd also be much closer to the business end of the archaeologist's rifle. And Finn had learned the hard way that bullet wounds were nothing to play around with.

  You're such a chicken shit, the wind god broadcast so loudly that Finn checked to make sure the clearing's other inhabitant couldn't hear him. Are you really going to make me miss the best part of the show?

  Despite the god's prodding, Finn continued to hesitate, feeling at war with himself. On the one hand, all of his feline intuition told the shifter to turn tail and run. The fur on his ruff was standing on end, and Finn had a feeling he'd rather not know what Mirabelle was up to.

  But, on the other hand, the scent of jaguar was even stronger now than it had been previously. And the shifter couldn't help wondering what was so interesting at Mirabelle's feet.

  Curiosity killed the cat, he reminded himself. But the were-jaguar was already planning his ascent, picking out a limb-to-limb path that would allow him to reach Tezcatlipoca's designated perching spot without being seen from below.

  Hurry up, scaredy cat. Or we'll miss out on all the fun.

  Finn's pads moved faster over the bark of the tree at Tezcatlipoca's urging. Or perhaps the shifter had simply sped up because he'd caught the sound of a third inhabitant in the clearing, one who was beginning to mewl with pain.

  Chapter 28

  Finn had never liked the rifle-toting archaeologist. But when the shifter finally caught sight of what lay within the pit at the human's feet, he recategorized the man as sadistic, possibly even psychopathic.

  The hole had clearly been dug as a trap, and one designed to not only catch, but also to hold, a jaguar. The opening must have begun as a natural gash in the earth, but it had since been widened and deepened with what Finn strongly suspected was hired labor. Because Mirabelle didn't seem like the type to get his hands dirty with back-breaking work, not when he'd foisted off the less strenuous archaeological excavation to underlings back in West Virginia.

  And where did all the dirt go? Finn didn't have time to focus on the whys and hows of trap construction, however. Not once he caught sight of the jaguar at the bottom of the pit, one hind and one front paw clamped firmly in two different bear traps. Dozens of similar devices lined the earth around the feline, proving that Mirabelle wasn't taking any chances about letting his prey escape.

  Finn had killed and eaten a lot of animals in his lifetime, but he still considered the other jaguar's suffering inhumane. The pain must have been excruciating, even though the whines emerging from the cat's muzzle were cautiously muted. And when the were-jaguar shimmered and then reformed as a spread-eagle human before Finn's very eyes, the latter felt his gorge rise up in his throat. Mirabelle's prey was another were-jaguar like himself.

  "¡Socorro! Por favor...." the young man called out.

  The teenager pinned to the bottom of the pit was about the same age Finn had been at his first shift, and the boy was also little more than skin and bones. Now that there was no fur to shield his wounds from sight, it became evident that the prisoner had been trapped for hours, or perhaps for days. Dried blood caked the boy's wrist and ankle, and the shift from jaguar to human form must have opened up those same wounds because fresh liquid was now beginning to seep out between the jaws of each trap once again.

  "Ah, still alive I see," Mirabelle called down. The archaeologist didn't bother to raise his voice and his tone suggested that he was merely discussing the weather with a friendly neighbor. "I saw the video when you fell into the pit," he continued. "But I'm afraid I was tied up with some other urgent business at the time. So sorry to leave you dangling."

  Finn shivered, knowing exactly what Mirabelle's urgent business had been. The shifter hadn't yet figured out how this young man had been sucked into Mirabelle's trap, but he now suspected that the archaeological dig in West Virginia was simply an elaborate ruse to achieve the same ends...only with Finn as the prey. That eye-catching article in the newspaper had likely been meant to lure in lonely shifters like himself, and Mirabelle must have been spying upon Finn at the dig at the same time that Finn thought he was the only one with hidden cameras in place.

  So Mirabelle knows about were-jaguars. And he's hunting us down. But why?

  Watch and learn, grasshopper, Tezcatlipoca responded.

  Finn had been talking more to himself than to his parasitic deity, but, come to think of it, perhaps Tez's manipulative skills would come in handy at
last. Can you make Mirabelle drop his gun? Finn broadcast loudly. Without a weapon, the archaeologist would be easy prey for jaguar claws. And once Mirabelle was incapacitated, Finn would find a way to free the other shifter before the kid bled to death in the bottom of the pit.

  Can I save the boy? Tezcatlipoca repeated. Of course. I am a god after all, in case you hadn't noticed. Finn started to relax, but then the deity reminded the shifter why he wasn't to be trusted. But will I? I don't think so, puny mortal. It's time you learned to fear the wrath of the gods.

  "...sister?" Mirabelle was saying. When the boy at his feet continued to look upwards in monolingual confusion, the archaeologist sighed and trotted out some broken Spanish. "¿Tienes hermana?"

  Shaking his head, the boy forced out more words through parched lips, denying knowledge of any family before begging once again for help. He's just like I am—alone in this world, Finn couldn't help thinking. And the shifter could almost hear the wind god roll his eyes in reply.

  "Then I'm afraid you're not any use to me," Mirabelle said calmly. And, before Finn had time to react, the archaeologist had raised the rifle to his eye, flipped off the safety, and shot the boy right through his forehead.

  Blood arced out to stain the bare soil behind him, and Finn nearly fell from his limb in shock and horror. He knew he'd gasped, but the sound of the shot had shielded his cry. Now if he could just manage not to fall into the clearing, Finn might still make it out of here with hide intact....

  "At least, you're no use to me alive," the archaeologist continued while the shifter's ears were still ringing. Mirabelle didn't bother to raise his voice, but the smirk on his face proved that he had entered the clearing with this end in mind.

  Above his foe's head, Finn stretched out his claws to cling to the bark of the tree while struggling to regain his balance. To discover another were-jaguar, one who reminded him so much of his younger self...and then to have that shifter gunned down before his very eyes...was almost more than the feline could bear.