by A. J. Colby
“So... the Shepherd of the City, huh?”
My shoulders slumped at her question. I’d known she was going to ask, but I’d hoped she would wait a little longer before grilling me about what I’d gotten myself mixed up in. I wasn’t even sure that I fully understood it myself.
“Yep,” I replied, taking a sip of my hot cocoa as an excuse not to elaborate. It burned my tongue, and all the way down my throat, but it was delicious, and I relished the warmth spreading through my chest.
The exasperated look Alyssa shot at me across the table let me know she could see right through my stalling tactics and that her patience was a lot longer than mine. With a sigh I set my mug down, but didn’t raise my gaze from the melting marshmallows.
“He’s asked me to look into some vamp murders. He thinks it’s a were.”
“I’d heard about the murders, but this is the first I’ve heard about them being connected to weres.”
“Me, too.”
It was no secret that vamps and weres didn’t get along, but there had been a strained peace between them for years. Although I thought Cordova was an egotistical undead prick, even I had to admit that he’d done a good job of getting everyone to play nice since he had taken over as Shepherd. Colorado was at an all-time low for supe-related crimes, and he’d made sizeable contributions to several supernatural charities in the area. He was an all-around pillar of the non-human community. And I didn’t trust his fanged smile any further than I could throw him.
“Why doesn’t Cordova have the police handling this?”
“He does, but you know as well as I do that the mundane police aren’t going to do shit until a human gets caught in the crossfire,” I said, looking up to meet her violet gaze. A small furrow developed between her brows as she gave me a reluctant nod. It was an unpleasant truth, but a truth nonetheless.
“So what’s your plan?”
“I don’t really have one,” I admitted, slumping further into my chair. “I’ve got a list of the victims and their next of kin, but other than that I have no idea what to do. I suppose I need to try to track down some weres to talk to, see if someone can get me a meeting with the pack master of Denver, but it’s been years since I was in contact with any other weres. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Well, I can help you get in touch with the pack master. He’s a regular at The Vine, and I’ve patched up plenty of his wolves over the years. He owes me a couple favors,” she said with a heated smile that made me wonder if she shared a history with the pack master. “I’ll make some calls in the morning and arrange a meeting for you.”
“Wow, thanks. That’s a huge help.”
I finished drinking my cocoa while Alyssa bustled off to fetch me some pajamas for the night, leaving me alone with my thoughts for a few minutes. After the trial that had put Samson in prison for killing seven women and almost making me the eighth, my therapist had “recommended” I attend a support group for newly transformed weres. Given that most weres are born, not bitten, I was the oldest one in attendance except for the group leaders who were there to guide us through our first few terrifying shifts from human to wolf.
At the time I’d still been reeling from the way my life had been turned upside down. When they first hinted that I should join a pack, I had quit the group and returned to the solitude of my mountain cabin. It wasn’t that I disliked other weres or that I was afraid of them; it was the thought of being surrounded by others with the same duality of mind and heart that I was experiencing. It unnerved me. I knew how unpredictable my own wolf could be, how sometimes I felt helpless and lost beneath the strength of her desires. I was sure that being around others with the same urges would overwhelm me, and I would be lost forever, trapped inside while the wolf ruled my body.
Desperate for a reprieve from my heavy thoughts, I was grateful for Alyssa’s interruption when she swept back into the room, even if she was accompanied by the fearsome looking Marvin perched on one of her slender shoulders. I eyed the small bundle of peach satin folded in her arms, sure that it couldn’t be the pajamas she had spoken of; the scrap of fabric barely looked big enough to cover half my ass, let alone the rest of my important bits.
“These should fit you,” she said with a smile, handing the silken mass over. “The guest room’s all set up for you.”
Smothering my thoughts with a forced smile, I rose from the table and followed my host down the hallway towards the guest room. Like the rest of what I had glimpsed of Alyssa’s house, the room was bright and cozy. Pale pink cabbage roses adorned the wallpaper covering the four walls, and antique lace curtains hung at the small windows flanking the brass bedframe. A bedspread patterned with tiny pink and purple flowers was overlaid by a cream chenille blanket that looked soft as a cloud and topped with a mountain of lace covered pillows. Matching white wicker night stands stood on either side of the bed below the windows while a small chintz armchair loaded with more lacey cushions was tucked into one corner of the room. The room was full of feminine softness—everything I wasn’t.
Right away I knew that it was too perfect for the likes of me, reeking of vampires and spent adrenaline. I was contemplating taking a quick shower before crawling into bed when Alyssa said, “Don’t worry if Marvin pops in during the night to say hello. He doesn’t sleep much except when he’s getting ready to molt, so sometimes he wanders around the house a bit.”
Looking at the creepy bird I fought against a shudder as he eyed me with what could only be described as an evil, lecherous grin. How a bird can grin, lecherously or otherwise, I’m not sure, but somehow he managed it. Dismissing the thought of a shower, I replied, “Uh... okay.”
Mental note: barricade the door before going to sleep.
“Thanks again for letting me crash here.”
“No problem. We like having company, don’t we Marvin?” she asked, rubbing the monstrous beast’s chest. That time I did shudder as the bird gazed at me with its gleaming black eyes that felt as though they were looking right down into the deepest parts of me. Plastering a smile on my face before Alyssa turned her attention back to me, I took a step backwards into the room.
“Well, goodnight.”
I waited until Alyssa and Marvin had disappeared down the hallway before I closed the door and shifted the armchair in front of it as quietly as I could.
“That is one creepy ass bird,” I muttered to myself as I stripped out of my clothes and slipped into my borrowed sleepwear.
It felt odd to be wearing someone else’s pajamas, especially when they consisted of a skimpy camisole and matching shorts that were barely decent. Living in the mountains where it was all but guaranteed to be below freezing most nights, my own pajamas were of the head-to-toe flannel variety. Not at all sexy, but a damn sight warmer than the scraps of satin and lace Alyssa seemed so fond of. The fabric was cool against my skin and tickled my breasts with every breath I took.
Well, that’s going to make for an interesting night’s sleep, I thought as I pulled back the covers.
Settling down into the feather mattress, surrounded by cloud-like softness, I soon realized that I wouldn’t have to worry about the slinky pajamas keeping me awake. Sleep flowed over me in a crushing wave, erasing all thoughts and worries as it swept me up in its powerful eddy. Even as I snuggled deeper into the pillows, I felt myself drifting off into the welcoming arms of sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AS SOME OF my role-playing game friends would say, the night passed uneventfully, free of nightmarish visits from my gracious host’s terrifying bird. Stifling a wide yawn I stretched out in the bed, surrounded by feather stuffed pillows and the sugary smell of cotton candy. The sky was still murky beyond the blinds and layers of lace, and for a moment I thought about burrowing under the heavy warmth of the blankets and going back to sleep. The distant scent of fresh coffee, however, tugged at me.
Working the last traces of stiffness out of my shoulders, I threw back the covers and decided to tackle one need at a tim
e. After visiting the bathroom I ambled towards the kitchen, yawning and ruffling my hair in an attempt to tame my serious case of bed head, moving with one thought in mind.
Must have coffee.
It turned out that Alyssa was a bit of a morning person, a rare breed of creature that lesser mortals find terribly annoying. I found them especially irritating before I’d had my first cup of coffee. It had taken Holbrook all of five minutes to discover that Riley before coffee was not someone to be trifled with. Alyssa, it seemed, had not received the memo.
Shuffling into the kitchen, I moved towards the coffee pot like a zombie zeroing in on a nice juicy cranium full of delicious brain mush.
“Good morning!”
The exuberance of my host made me cringe, and it took several long moments for a suitable reply to filter down to my mouth from my sluggish brain. I could all but smell the hot metal stench of the gears in my brain straining to move without sufficient lubrication.
“Morning.”
The first sip of coffee would have been pure heaven if not for the grating squawk of “Morning!” from Marvin. The foul beast appeared unfazed by the glare I shot at him over the rim of my cup.
“You hungry? I can warm up some cinnamon rolls.”
My mood instantly improved at the promise of sugary icing and baked goods, giving me enough of a boost to ignore the bird.
“That would be great,” I replied, leaning back against the edge of the counter to savor the rich flavor of the dark coffee. While Alyssa’s choice of companions left a lot to be desired, her taste in coffee turned out to be excellent.
Yawning wide, I ran a hand back through my hair, frowning when my fingers hit a tangle. It wasn’t until I caught Alyssa’s gaze lingering on the scar across my belly that I became aware of the way the camisole rode up to expose a wide swath of my stomach and the lingering evidence of the attack that had left me a werewolf. She’d seen it before, but I understood how it could give someone pause. It was an ugly, lurid thing that had never faded to the faint white of the few scars I’d had before contracting lycanthropy. It was a permanent reminder of how Samson had irrevocably changed my life.
Looking away as though she was embarrassed at having been caught staring, she turned her attention to setting a couple of cinnamon rolls on a cookie sheet to warm in the oven. Reaching around her I swept a finger through a dollop of cold icing left in the container.
“I made a couple calls and set up a meeting for you with the pack master. The details are on the table,” she said, gesturing to a notepad on the kitchen table.
Sucking the icing off my finger, I shuffled over to the table and slid into an empty seat. Pulling the notebook towards me, I glanced over her delicate script, and then up at the clock mounted on the wall.
“Is that clock fast?” I asked. I appreciated her help, but with it already creeping towards nine o’clock, and the meeting set for noon, that didn’t leave me enough time to drive home to change and come back again.
As if reading my panicked thoughts she said, “You’re welcome to clean up here and raid my closet.”
* * *
Scrubbed clean and smelling faintly of Alyssa’s honey scented soap, I stood in front of her closet wrapped in two big fluffy towels. I hadn’t had a lot of girlfriends growing up and had never experienced the common practice of swapping clothes with friends. I felt awkward looking over the racks of her clothes, as if I was peeking at something far more intimate than shirts and pants.
What the hell does someone wear to meet a pack master, anyway?
I’d never gotten as far as meeting the pack master in my previous dealings with weres; I’d been so preoccupied with trying to figure out what my life had become that I wouldn’t have cared that much if I had. But now things were different, and against all logic I found myself fretting over what to wear. I was tempted to call out to Alyssa and ask for help, but I also didn’t want to admit how unskilled I was at matching a pair of slacks with a shirt. I’d never considered myself to be a slob, but as I stood at the foot of Alyssa’s bed staring at the array of silky shirts, fitted jackets, and short skirts, I realized that maybe my go-to wardrobe of jeans and a t-shirt left a little to be desired.
How the hell did I land Holbrook when I dress like a hobo?
Sighing at my own lack of fashion sense, I was reaching for a simple navy blue sweater when a swath of translucent black caught my eye, and my fingers instead gravitated towards the sheer shirt. It wasn’t at all my usual style, and I was sure that the one-shouldered shirt wasn’t practical in the middle of February, but I so desperately wanted to try it on. Plucking the shirt off the hanger before I could change my mind, I unwound the towel wrapped around my body and let it fall to the floor.
I’d just started to pull the shirt on over my head when the door creaked open, complete with cheap horror movie sound effects. Freezing, with my arms waving in the air like an epileptic orangutan, I struggled to see through the fabric bunched up in my face. Wrestling the shirt the rest of the way over my head, I rounded on the open door to find Marvin looming in the doorway. The sight of his wrinkled, bald head cocked to one side as his coal black eyes took in my half-naked state made me shudder and scramble to retrieve my towel from the floor.
“What the hell?” I scowled at the fearsome bird. “Get out.”
Rather than retreating out of the room as I’d hoped, he propelled himself up to Alyssa’s headboard with a couple of flaps from his massive wings, the strength of them buffeting my face with air that felt far warmer than the rest of the room and smelled faintly of wood smoke. It was an aroma I had long been fond of, and I hated to associate it with the pervy bird.
“I said out!” I snarled, pointing at the door with what was intended to be an intimidating glare.
If his dismissive blink was anything to go by, he found me about as menacing as a bowl of oatmeal, and I couldn’t help feeling a little insulted. Dipping his dark red head to inspect the feathers under his wing, he kept one black eye on me, as I shuffled from one foot to the other, waiting for him to leave. After a minute of staring silently at each other it became obvious that he wasn’t planning to leave. With a huff, I adjusted my towel and stalked out of the room. The last thing I wanted was to grant him a view of my naked ass as I stormed down the hallway.
“That’s pretty,” Alyssa said, eyeing my borrowed shirt with a bright smile that began to wither as I continued to stomp past her in the hallway. “Is everything okay?”
Stopping in the doorway to the guest room I turned to face her and replied in the calmest voice I could manage, “Your... whatever the hell he is... just tried to get a look at my... bits!”
“Marvin?” she asked, blinking wide violet eyes in confusion.
“Yes. He’s a creeper.”
“Oh, I’m sure you just misread him. He’d never do anything like that,” she replied, her surety written in the furrow of her brow.
I wasn’t sure how she could live with a perverted phoenix and not know it, but I sure as hell didn’t want to be the one to burst her oblivious bubble. She’d done more for me in the short time I’d known her than I would ever expect from anyone, and for that I was more grateful than I knew how to express. If remaining her friend meant I had to deal with Marvin the perv, so be it. Glancing past her to the doorway, I saw the creep in question lean his head around the doorframe to watch us, something in his gaze making me think that I should choose my words carefully. Swallowing the lump of irritation and unease that stuck in my throat, I nodded.
“You’re right. I think I’m just nervous about meeting the pack master.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
SWEAT POOLED IN the small of my back as I crept along the street, looking for an open parking spot. When I’d picked the Escalade, I hadn’t spared a thought for how I would park the monster on the crowded streets of downtown Denver. It took far longer than I’d expected to wedge the gleaming black behemoth into a parking spot, leaving me to jog the last four blocks through the lunchtim
e crowd.
Tugging on the hem of my shirt for what felt like the hundredth time, I hurried along the street all the while wishing I’d opted for the navy sweater. The ruched hem refused to stay in place on my hips, the silky fabric riding up to reveal my stomach while gaping around my chest, exposing skin in all the wrong places. As I had many times throughout my life, I cursed the gods who had jipped me in the boob department while being overly generous when it came to my hips and ass.
I swear this damn thing fit when I left Alyssa’s.
Dodging people on the sidewalk like a salmon swimming upstream, I wove through the masses, sidestepping patches of ice and loitering hipsters filling the air with the stink of their fancy flavored cigarettes. A sharp elbow to my ribs had me spinning around in a tight circle, forcing out a curse for my faceless assailant who had already disappeared into the steady flow of pedestrians bundled up against the cold.
Turning back to face the way I was headed, I told myself that I didn’t really care if I was late.
Yeah, and that’s why you just almost mowed down a homeless guy on the last block.
My heart rate ratcheted up another notch as I rounded the corner onto 16th Street and the café came into view, sandwiched between a jazz club that wouldn’t open for several more hours, and a used bookstore. A copper sign above the door, turned green and blue by the patina of time, declared that I had arrived at The Vine. Large windows reflected the bright early afternoon sunshine, appearing as golden portals into some unknown land.
A flicker of anxiety roiled in my stomach as I stopped in the middle of sidewalk, pedestrians flowing around me. I’d spent the last nine years avoiding other weres—and people in general—and now was about to come face to face with one of the most powerful weres in the entire state.
