I stood, staring into his face and letting him see the pain he’d caused. I allowed him to see every single feeling I had, naked and unashamed. He stumbled back in the car, face ashen. I realized then that he’d truly thought he was doing me a good turn by infecting me.
"I didn't mean ... I never wanted to ... rape? Oh God, you truly see it as … rape?" It was his turn to falter as the reality of exactly what he'd done hit home. He'd always seen it as he had done me a favor; learning now that I saw it as anything but, seemed to have the effect I’d hoped for.
Tears flowed down his face and he grabbed his stomach with both hands. As the doors opened on thirteen, I stepped out, leaving him retching and sobbing behind me. He stayed in the car, not bothering to get off and follow.
Seems I knocked some of the fight out of him. I swiped my sleeve over my face to dry away the tears and forced myself to walk to the lab door. I stood outside it for a brief moment calming myself and trying to appear less of the mess outside than I was inside.
When I felt significantly more normal I opened the door and came face to face with Dr. Grace Fujishima, our resident forensics guru and Director of the Evidence Response Team (ERT).
"Sam, I assume you're here for the latest Grisly case report. Are you okay, what's wrong?" She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into her office.
Grace was a lovely woman and the most brilliant forensic detective outside of fiction. In fact, she probably could have given Holmes a run for his money.
"I met the man who turned me into a werejaguar today. He then showed up here and tried to tell me we are soul mates. I told him exactly what I thought of that idea. Apparently, I shocked him some when I let him know I saw his gift as fang-rape."
She whistled. "I'll bet. So, did you kick his ass?"
I nodded.
"Yes, apparently he had an office that overlooked the coffee cart I frequented and he saw that I was sad. He said when he saw me in the park he thought it was a sign. Said he thought he would help me change my life."
"Ugh! What a dick."
"Pretty much."
"Sorry you're dealing with this mess, Sam. You think he'll leave you alone now?"
"I honestly don't know. I want to say I hope so, but, at the same time, he's the only other jaguar I've met. The doctors say there aren’t many of us in the world. I have questions he might have answers to.”
“Are answers worth dealing with him?”
“I’m not sure. As you know, I experienced heightened senses after I was infected, but I also experienced this sixth sense of sorts. I can feel when there is danger nearby. I want to know more about it and how it works. He might be the only one who can answer that as none of the wolves nor the tiger I know can. They just don't have that ability."
"We vamps occasionally get someone with advanced gifts like that, but I've never heard of a were exhibiting their own spidey-sense. Take me for example, I have the ability to detect emotions. I suppose you might call me an empath of sorts. I can't feel it all the time, thank God, but when I do, I have a devil of a time turning it off. I'd be happy to help you explore your gift for sensing danger if you want." She walked me over to the little conversation area she'd set up in her office.
Four black leather and chrome chairs sat nestled on a thick-piled area rug among glass tables.
"Thanks, Grace. You know, I love my non-supernatural friends, but it's so nice having people around who understand problems of a super sort." I was grateful and blessed to have so many wonderful friends of all varieties.
Human, were, vampire, zombie, you name it. I was friends with the best people out there, that much was sure. The Lord had not blessed me with good family and to make up for that loss He had gifted me with some of the most wonderful friends anyone could ask for. It was they who kept me going when I wasn’t sure I had it in me. Without these people in my life I have no idea where I would've ended up.
Grace had spoken to me of her gift before now, but always in an offhand way. I had no idea she was an empath; it explained a lot about her. She was one of the kindest people I knew. She helped me transition during my first few months here. I'd been a shifter for all of six months when my transfer to CID (Criminal Investigative Division) went through. On my very first day I introduced myself to everyone as a shifter.
I wanted my new colleagues to know what I was and I wanted to prove myself competent as an agent. I felt that if they didn't know about my jaguar and we became friends it might make them feel betrayed that I hadn't been honest with them from the beginning.
It helped me see who was a decent person and who was biased against supernaturals. Since the public at large didn't know about us it made my admission a little bizarre. However, all feds are read in on what supers exist, why, how, and what powers they held.
That first day was rough. Two women, who’d initially been very kind to me, publicly snubbed me once my switch in species was made public. It was good to know I hadn't needed to waste months befriending and hanging out with people who would wind up not giving a flying fuck about me once they learned I was a were.
I'd quickly learned that day who I could and couldn't trust not to care about my cat and allow me to do my job. It hurt a bit at first, but as time went on I realized I wouldn't have liked some of them much, anyway.
I do have to admit I was surprised at a few of them. Over time I've gotten some of them to come around. For many I had been the first shifter they'd ever met. Time spent getting to know me has given them a different outlook on weres and what we are really like.
Grace had her own stigma to deal with. Not many people knew she was a vamp, only four in fact. She had confided in me that very first day and asked me never to tell and so I hadn't. I knew my boss, Gerald Jackson, was one of the few. He and Grace were good friends and spent quite a bit of time together.
Gerry was a damned good boss and an honest, friendly, good guy. He was the sort who'd let you run with your gut if you proved to him you could handle it. Grace always seemed to be the same, so it was no wonder they were good friends. Sometimes, though, I wondered just how good of friends they actually were, if you know what I mean. I honestly would be chuffed if they did start dating.
Grace had been alone for a long time and Gerry's ex-wife had done a number on him. If you asked me it was about time they both start dating again. Not that I would ever say anything, because I'm really not that sort of person, honest. I try my hardest not to meddle in other people's affairs.
Either way, Grace and I understood each other and were able to be there for one another when needed. We didn't talk much outside of work, but I didn't talk to very many people period. I'm what you might call a bit of a loner. Always have been, even before the cat showed up. I think Grace is the same. We may not really talk, but I know if I called her at three in the morning needing help, she'd be there. She knows the same goes with me.
As for me, I do not take loyalty lightly. I never have, never will. I've seen enough real horror in life to know that someone you can trust and rely on is more important than anything in this world. Safety is a luxury most people take for granted.
When you learn at a very early age that the people you love the most can also be the ones who hurt you the most, you tend to be selective about those you allow in. You also tend to be extremely loyal to those few who are just as loyal to you.
Grace squeezed my hands. "Do you plan to speak to him again?"
"I want to say no, but there is so much I need to know from him. The least of which being my ability to sense danger."
"Do you want to know why he came back?"
"That, and why he picked me in the first place. I don't buy it was just because I looked sad when I went to get coffee." I took a glass off her desk and held it up as she poured ice water into it.
I took a quick swig hoping to cool my anger then set it on the table next to my chair.
"Sam, is it that you don't buy it or that you hope there is more to it? Are you hoping he can tell you why he di
d it?"
"Both, I guess. I need to know why, Grace."
"What if he doesn't even know why?"
"Then I suppose I will just have to be satisfied with that and move on."
"What if his why isn’t what you want to hear?"
I was surprised. "What do you mean, Grace?"
"What if he is nothing more than a sociopath?”
“He doesn’t strike me as a sociopath, maybe some narcissism, but I don’t think he’s entirely without feeling or empathy.”
“You’re trying to look for meaning where none may exist. Some people are just assholes who act without considering all the repercussions. Be honest with yourself about that." I started to speak and she held up a hand and stopped me. "Yes, I know you feel like you’ve been honest, but I can feel that you're hiding something from yourself."
"He bit me and left me for dead!" I slid back in the seat and crossed my arms, feeling angry and defensive.
"Except he didn't leave you for dead. You said it yourself when you told me how it happened. He bit you … once, gently, on the hand."
"Okay, so he didn’t leave me for dead, but considering he knew biting me would make me like him, that's pretty damned fucked up, Grace. He didn't give me a chance to say yes or no. He didn't even speak to me at all. He never even told me his name until today!"
I tend to talk with my hands when I speak. I was in the midst of gesticulating wildly when I knocked over my glass of water. As it pooled on the glass side table and began dripping off the edge, I felt a sadness I hadn't expected. As if my life was that water and it was just running away from me in dribs. It hit me then that I'd never really properly mourned the loss of my humanity. I'd just sort of set it aside in a box in my mind the way I tend to do.
I have always been good at compartmentalizing things. It's how I made it through my childhood. I had one friend in my teens that showed me the coolest way to do that. Let's just say if I were unpacking those boxes the horrors found within mine would shock the hell out of you. Instead, I keep those demons behind their proper doors, barred and chained. I shall never let them out, or if I do, it'll be on the poor defenseless and undeniably delicious bunnies I hunt.
Go ahead and hate me.
I eat bunnies and they're delectable.
Sometimes I get the urge to hunt and bunnies bring out the playful side of me. To be fair, if I'm not hungry I don't go hunting. I figure it’s better that I give in to my urge with lagomorphs than with humans.
Also, my neighbor is an organic farmer and he constantly complains about the rabbits eating his crops. Since I've moved in, he's had the best harvests of his life. See, me eating bunnies—tasty, tasty bunnies—helps the environment. Meh, screw it. Either you're going to hate me over this bunny thing or you won't. I am what I am and I do what I do.
I wiped up the spill with the paper towels Grace handed me and sheepishly tossed the sodden mess into her wastebasket. "Sorry."
"Not a big deal."
"You're too kind."
"No, Sam, I'm just honest. Remember the saying about spilled milk? Well, it applies to water, too."
"Thank you." I grinned.
She had a way of making me feel better. Sometimes I wondered if she shouldn't have been a psychologist instead of a forensic specialist.
"No problem. If your sire bothers you that much, stay away. Maybe one of the other three jags can answer your questions. Hey, don't you have a murderer to catch?"
"Oh, crap!" I looked at my watch and saw I'd spent almost a half an hour talking with Grace.
“Been there.” Grace chuckled.
I was definitely going to get yelled at by Gerry. Possibly screamed at.
"Sorry, I have to run. Gerald is going to kill me for being late. Or worse, put me on desk duty." I shuddered.
The worst thing about being an agent is all the damn paperwork. For most of us, desk duty is almost worse than a suspension. I know I'd rather have the black mark on my file than be forced to do my unit's reports for weeks. I stood, gave my friend a quick half-hug, and rushed out the door while promising to call her later. Halfway down the hall I realized I'd forgotten the file containing the forensics report and I hurried back to Grace's office. She met me halfway.
"Thank you, for everything."
"Catch this monster, that'll be thanks enough. This guy is bad news."
"More than that, he's straight up evil."
"I would have to agree." She nodded as she handed me the file.
“Thanks again.” I nodded and did a quick about face, heading for the elevators double time.
I was hoping I wouldn't run into Fitzpatrick again. Luck was on my side as I slipped into an empty car and rode it down to the first floor. The moment the doors opened I bee-lined for Gerry's office. I was fairly certain Quinn would already be there waiting for me.
I didn't think I'd be overly late, I hadn't talked to Grace for that long. I also made sure I perused the report in the elevator while I made my way to Gerry's office. So, hopefully, he would forgive my lateness. I opened the door as soon as I felt comfortable discussing what was found by the forensics team.
"Hey, Gerry, Quinn, sorry I'm a bit late. I was going over the forensics...." I trailed off when I realized there was nobody in the office.
I looked around to make sure they weren't seated on the couch behind me and shrugged. I turned around, walked out, and headed for my desk. Q's was opposite mine and I thought that it was possible he and Gerry were there waiting for me. Quinn was, indeed, there, but there was no sign of our boss.
"What's wrong, Reece?"
"I just went to Gerry's office looking to share the forensics with you guys, but neither of you were there. I guess I just assumed he'd be over here with you."
"He's in the break room getting a cup of coffee,” Q said. “He asked us to meet him in his office when you got back from Grace's.”
He took a sip out of his own mug and sighed in delight.
"Good coffee?"
"James brought in some Kona."
"I love that guy." I grabbed my light blue Good Kitty mug, told Q I'd see him in Gerry's office, and hustled my ass down to the break room to get some delicious top shelf coffee.
James Brady was a godsend. He brought in all kinds of seriously expensive first class beans. He hated the cheap government stuff we were supplied with and took it upon himself to keep us all in the good stuff. You’ve got to love a guy like that.
His brother owned some ritzy coffee shop so he got awesome deals on some fantastic beans. He never kept the coffee at the office, though—I don’t blame him for that—so when he was working and one of his badass blends was brewing there was usually a line out the door.
Inside the drab beige and brown break room Gerry, James, and Sheila Stork were standing around the coffee pot waiting. I must've either hit the tail end or I was among the first for the well-loved after lunch pot.
"Hey, Sam!" Sheila smiled.
"Hi, Sheila. James, bless you for your coffee contributions. You deserve sainthood for this. Hey, Gerry, I ran into Q and he told me I could find you in here. Figured I'd grab a cup of the good stuff myself and walk with you to your office." By the time I'd finished speaking I'd already poured myself a cup, added sugar and milk, and grabbed a blueberry muffin.
Yes, I know I'd just eaten a fairly full brunch, but my metabolism was like a hummingbird's. I needed to eat often, and a fair amount, or I lost some control over my shifting abilities.
"Sounds good," Gerry told me before turning to James and Sheila. "Get on the phones and see what surveillance footage you can dig up from around our scenes. Check the usual traffic cameras, ATMs, and stores. If you come up bust check the civvies and see if any of them caught anything on tape. Oh, and James, stellar coffee, thanks, kid."
"Anytime, boss. Hey, Sam, can I catch you before you leave tonight? I have a question." James reddened and I figured he must have some more questions about an Internet dating site he had just signed up to.
"
Sure thing. After our meeting, if I've got time before we have to interview a witness, I'll swing by your desk. Thanks again for the coffee, you're a lifesaver."
"I baked the muffins," Sheila spoke up.
She sounded angry and looked as though I had snubbed her.
"Thank you for the muffins, you rock." I gave her my most thankful smile and followed Gerry out.
We fell in step together and chatted as we walked.
"What witness?" Gerry asked.
"Josh found a priest that said Grisly came to him for confession. He doesn't break the seal of confession lightly and is only doing so with permission, because he thinks more people will be hurt."
"Priests are good in front of juries ... mostly."
"That's pretty much what I said."
"Always said you were smart." He smiled at me.
"Thanks. I just want to find this monster and keep him from hurting anyone else."
"I know you do, Sam; just don't get too obsessed with this case. Getting stuck in the work is what killed my marriage."
I didn't believe him.
It's my opinion that his bitch of a wife cheating on him is responsible for killing his marriage, but, hey, what do I know?
"If you say so. You know my opinion on it."
"Look, Sam, Angie wouldn't have stepped out if I’d been around more, or at least been more involved with her when I was around. I let the job be my life. There isn’t a soul in this world who'll take that on forever and be happy. Relationships are a two-way street."
"Wise words, sir." I didn't fully agree.
Angie knew what she signed on for; she was just a spoiled rich bitch who expected her hubby to buy her everything she wanted while she slept around with various country club employees.
We walked into his office and I sat next to Quinn. I took a sip of my coffee and could barely contain my near orgasm at the taste of it. Ye gods, was there anything better in this world than a really good cup of joe?
"Sam filled me in on the preacher man. What else do we have in the way of evidence on this case?" Gerry grumbled then took a sip of his coffee and you could see the tension melt away for just a second.
Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1 Page 5
