"Yeah, aside from assuring me that what he told Josh was a word for word convo, he also mentioned he has the ability to smell supers. He said Grisly is a shifter, like me."
"Well, not like you, Sam. You haven't killed anyone."
"I've killed bunnies." My biggest fear since I turned is that I'll go full jaguar and start attacking people.
"Despite what PETA would say, bunnies aren't people." Quinn reached over and patted the hand I had rested on the back of the pew.
"True enough." I turned and started walking out of the church. Quinn caught up quickly.
As I walked outside a scent hit me. It was a shifter. They hadn't been by for at least a day, but the smell was still strong and I recognized it from the motel room as Grisly.
"Quinn! I've got his scent." I followed it to the parking lot but lost it again.
I couldn't tell if Grisly had gotten into a car and drove away or if the asphalt wasn't holding his scent as well as the grass had. I needed to change.
"Why'd you stop?"
"I have to shift."
"Here? In the middle of a church parking lot? Is that a good idea?"
"Probably not, but if we really want to nail this guy I need to get a better whiff. I can't do that without growing fur."
"Can you change in your car?"
I thought about what he said and agreed it was probably better if I changed somewhere less public. I just wasn't sure my car was the best idea. I'd spent so long restoring her I didn't want to mess up the seats. Sometimes, during a shift, I cough up some blood. I'd hate to stain my interior. However, the interior of my car was nothing compared to how stained my life would be if it was my fault supers were outed.
"Yeah, probably should." Not that a big black cat is inconspicuous, but it can be explained a lot easier than a federal agent turning into a black cat.
We walked over to my car and I got into the back seat and began removing my clothes; no sense in getting them all torn up. Once they were folded neatly into a pile I called forth my jaguar and started to shift.
When the pain had passed, I asked Quinn to open the door and I stepped out. He put a collar and leash on me and started following my lead. As much as I despised being collared I knew it was for the mental well-being of the general public.
For some reason when people see a big cat on a leash they feel more comfortable. Big mistake. Cats on leashes are far more dangerous than an unrestricted cat. Cats don't fight unless they have to; we'd prefer to run from danger if need be.
On a leash we can't run and so it makes us a little more hostile to the moron who has tethered an angry feline to themselves. As I walked with Quinn to the spot I first scented Grisly, I caught a trail. I followed the smell back to the dumpster behind the church.
"Well, climb in, man. I can't quite do it in this form." Luckily a good grin transcends all species and Quinn could see the one I was wearing even through my jaguar face.
"Oh, sure, take the easy job."
"Easy? O'Reilly, did you smell the suspect? Did you follow his trail here? No, then I guess it’s your turn to do the tracking. Climb in and enjoy."
"Sorry, Sam, you've gotta come with me. If I'm in the dumpster and someone comes along, they're going to freak out to see you on your own."
"What?" Before I could say anything else I found myself being lifted into the dumpster. "Quinn, you asshole, I'm naked under this fur!"
"Sorry, Sam."
My foot hit something slippery and I slid a bit, landing muzzle first into a pile of spaghetti. "You're a prick. A total asshole. I can't believe—” I broke off as I saw a briefcase that smelled strangely familiar.
"You can't believe what, Reece?" Quinn sounded slightly concerned.
"There’s a briefcase here and it has Grisly's scent on it."
"Well, bring it to me."
"What the fuck, man? I’m not your damn dog, Q, and if you want to keep your head where it is you might want to try being a little more polite to me."
"You're a real bitch when you get marinara in your fur."
"Yeah, so are you." I grabbed the briefcase by the handle and carried it in my jaws as carefully as possible through the dumpster to where Quinn was hanging over the edge.
Not one to miss a chance, I pulled on the case when he grabbed hold and he tilted head first into the dumpster with me. I smiled at him.
"I suppose I deserved that."
"A little bit, yeah."
"Anything else in here reek of our guy or just the briefcase?"
"Just the case."
"Okay, I'm climbing out and then I'll give you a hand in getting out."
"You're going to have to hose me off."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not going around all day with garbage all over me."
"I have to."
"Yeah, it didn't touch your bare skin, jerkwad."
"True, but it didn't touch yours, either. It'll go wherever the fur goes, right?"
"The fur goes back in me, man. Come on, they have to have a hose near the dumpster."
"Sam, it's cold as ice out here. You'll freeze."
"For a few minutes until I'm clean, can shift, and get dressed. Besides it can't be colder than forty-five degrees out."
"Fine. Let me get out and I'll hose you down and take you to the car."
"You could've avoided this altogether by not dropping me in a dumpster full of food."
"Well, now I know. Future me will never do it again."
"Good, don't. Mostly because I really don't like present you much right now, so I’d definitely dislike future you if you did."
"Okay, come on and jump, I'll catch you and swing you over."
"Yeah, that'll work. Step aside." Quinn did as I asked and I took a springing leap out of the dumpster and landed next to him on the concrete.
Sure, I landed face first, but I cleared the dumpster, so, go me!
Quinn pulled the hose off the reel it was wound on and turned on the spigot. Arctic water pelted me on the side and my jaw started shivering.
"Hurry up, Q! It's bloody freezing!"
"Hold your horses, almost done." The hose moved like an icy knife up and down my cat form until I was sopping wet, and cold as a reindeer's ass. While he turned off the water and rolled up the hose I shook my fur out, sending freezing droplets out to pelt Quinn.
"Damn, sorry, Sam. I didn't realize it'd be so cold." He hurried to the car and opened the back door for me.
I jumped in, changed, and got dressed. Once I was clothed I scooched out of the backseat and stood next to Quinn by where he’d left the briefcase. He called a forensic tech to come out and log it. Until the guy got there we had to stand in the parking lot, watching it. Wet strands of hair clung around my face and my jaw shuddered whenever a breeze blew.
It was the coldest I ever remember being. Quinn started my car and left it running so I could warm up until the tech left with the evidence. It only took about thirty minutes total which was a damn sight better than I was thinking it would be.
Chapter 6
"HEY, REECE, YOUR BOYFRIEND WAS HERE," James called out, all sing-songlike to me.
"What?" I was thinking maybe Ben had come back.
"Chad stopped by with that information you wanted. Why, do you actually have a boyfriend, Sam?"
"Not yet. Nobody man enough to keep up with me, I suppose." I winked and grabbed the file he was holding out.
Then I smiled at him sweetly and walked with Quinn back to our desks.
Once we were seated I opened the file folder and glanced inside, my eyes straying to the important areas on the forms within.
"So, according to what Chad found at the morgue, our hunch was right and all the vics are shifters."
"Damn."
"Well, when you add in what the priest told me about Grisly being a shifter it makes sense. I just feel like there is more to it than we know. This guy hadn't killed anyone until recently, or we'd have gotten a hit in the system when we ran the stuff from the scenes."
"So, you think he's a recent change? That tracks with serial behavior for sure. Usually a big upset causes them to go out and start killing."
"I do think he’s a new were. I have a gut feeling there is more to it than that, though. I don't know what it is yet, but something tells me we won't find him so easily. I think there is just something wrong with the picture. If he is muddled enough to think he’s God’s warrior, how is he so good at not leaving any evidence behind?"
"You think he's working with somebody?"
"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he's working on behalf of a group. Maybe he has ties to AWFA. I don't know exactly what, but something about all this just isn't sitting right with me."
"There's a metric fuck-ton about this whole thing that doesn't sit right with me right now. Whether there is a conspiracy involved or just a wacked out shifter serial working on his own, the thought of anyone winding up like hamburger meat in a seedy hotel bathroom is enough to make me hate this guy."
"I hear you loud and clear." I gave him a weak smile.
Quinn sounded so much harder and angrier than I'd ever heard him before. Gerry walked over and asked us to follow him. As we walked into his office he closed the door behind us. That was never a good sign.
"Look, there's been another body, and this time there’s a witness. A fellow saw the man leaving the motel room where the ... victim was discovered." Gerry handed me a slip of paper with an address and a name. It was Ben's.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”
“What is it, Reece?”
“My maker.”
“Your coffee maker?” Gerry looked confused.
“No, my sire.”
“The guy who bit you? What’s he got to do with this?”
“He’s the witness.” I sighed and began rubbing my temples.
It was going to be a long and uncomfortable day.
“You want me to put James and Sheila on this, instead?”
Gerry was concerned and there was a big part of me that wanted to say yes, but I knew I had to be the one to do this. If nothing else, maybe I could get him to answer some of my jaguar questions.
“No, I need to do it. I have some questions of my own for him.”
“You want Quinn to go with?”
“No. It’s best I do this on my own. That way if I sock him in the nose there are no witnesses.” I grinned.
Gerry didn’t.
“Sam, you can’t punch a witness no matter how big a prick he may be.”
“Aw, boss, you spoil all my fun.”
“That’s my job. Official fun spoiler and grumpy Gus.”
“Well, let me be the first to say you are fantastic at your job.”
I ducked the paper ball he lobbed at me and stood up.
“Good luck, Reece. You’re going to need it. Please be on your best behavior.”
“Damn, there you go again taking all the fun out of it.”
“Just go and interview the witness,” Gerry growled.
“On it, boss.” I left his office and went to the break room for some coffee to go.
Chapter 7
"BEN, IT’S SAM. The Bureau sent me to talk with you." There was no answer and I knocked on the door a little louder.
After a few minutes without an answer I banged on the door with all the force of ... well, the FBI. "Ben, come on, open up, I need to talk to you. I know you're in there. Your car’s in the lot."
"Why are you here, Sam? I'm sorry I bit you. I'm sorry I changed you without talking to you first. It's just that I saw you every day, getting coffee from that blasted cart. My office window overlooked the square. In the beginning I watched you just because you caught my eye. You are just so beautiful and I saw the same melancholy in your eyes that I felt before I was given my cat. I just wanted to help. I thought that—”
"You thought if you gave me my own cat, I wouldn't hate yours?" It seemed ludicrous and even just plain childish.
Yet it hit me that it was the real reason he'd bitten me.
"No! Yes! I don't know. It wasn't like that. I just wanted you to see yourself the way I always saw you. The beauty I saw in you. Fuck, I'm just drowning here aren't I?"
"Pretty much. You sort of just admitted that you infected me because you were stalking me and wanted to date me. How did you think that would go over?" He opened the door and my eyes met his.
"Not that it matters now, but I planned to come back. I went around the corner to change. I put on my clothes and my phone rang. My mom called me to say my dad had died. It's not that I didn't want to come back. I planned to come right back and go to the hospital with you. But when I got that call I just blanked; I went to a different hospital so I could be there for my mom and little sister. I never would have left otherwise."
So not what I was expecting. My stomach dropped.
I still had some questions for him. "You stayed away until now, though. Why?"
"I didn't. I went to the coffee cart a few weeks after my dad's funeral and saw you. I could see the change in you. You were happy and—after doing a quick bit of digging, in the form of asking Larry the coffee guy a couple questions—I saw that you'd created a whole new life for yourself. I didn't want to screw with that. Also, you were with a wolf at the time. I figured you were learning about shifting from him. I didn't want to interfere."
"Yes, because how awful of you to fucking interfere in my life," I hissed.
Yeah, it was probably petty, but it felt good. I'd needed this confrontation for years.
"Sam, I really didn't mean to cause any harm. I just saw a beautiful woman in pain and full of self-doubt. I knew being a shifter would erase that doubt and help heal that pain. I wasn't going to bite you right then. I only wanted to talk to you; I'd planned on saying something, on asking you, but you reached out to me and I got caught up in the moment. As you held out your hand to touch me I realized I couldn't handle it if you loathed me for being different. I wanted to make the change painless for you. I wanted to be there to help you transition. I failed you. Then I came back and saw you looking so happy and I knew I couldn't stand to fail you again. I knew that I would, too, it was only a matter of time. Because that's what I was, a failure." A tear slicked down his cheek. "I loved you, Sam. I didn't know you, true, but I loved you for the person I did see. The person you were when you thought nobody was looking."
"That would almost be sweet if it weren't for the extreme creepiness factor. You stalked me every day for two years and said nothing? Why?"
"Because I couldn't."
"Oh, is now where you say you didn't think you were good enough for me?"
"No, now is where I tell you that I know I wasn't good enough. I've done some things I'm not proud of. Obviously, biting you is one of those. At the time I'd been gambling a lot and I owed a fair bit of money to people that weren't exactly kind souls."
"Loansharks, gambling, stalking, biting. Wow, you had it right. You aren't good enough for me." I stood to leave and the sheer calm and understanding on his face gave me pause.
He was not proud of the man he had been and he seemed to have made strides to change his life. He came to The Diner to find me and ask forgiveness. Could I grant him that? I had a problem forgiving people. Mostly because I've learned along the way that the more you allow a person to hurt you the more they will, just to prove that they can.
The bite he'd given me had been gentle. I think it was fair to say he understood the ramifications of what he'd done and seemed genuinely sorry for them. I didn’t think I could forgive him, but I still had questions, ones I needed answers to. I stood and wrote down my phone number on a pad of paper by the phone. I set the pen down next to it and turned around to say goodbye. He stood awkwardly to the side.
"Look, I have some questions about us jaguars, but now isn't really the time to ask ’em. The FBI has you down as a witness to a murder. An agent will be here shortly and I'll be leaving when they get here. I wrote my number down for you. I'd like to talk more about the murder you
witnessed and about being a cat." I stepped forward to give him a handshake.
I wasn't trusting him or anything, but I did need to know some things about both my panther self, and Grisly, that only he could answer. As much as it made me uncomfortable to admit, I understood a tiny bit better where his mind was when he sired me. Don’t mistake me, I understood, but I didn’t forgive him for it. That would need to be earned.
"I called the police about that. Why is the FBI picking the case up and why will an agent be coming here, Sam?"
"Well, the murderer you saw has killed a few people already and has threatened to kill more if we can't stop him."
"So why can't you stay?"
"Personal reasons. I've already notified my boss. They'll make sure a neutral party speaks with you to avoid the appearance of impropriety."
"Sam, before you go, thank you. Also, I can't apologize enough for what I've done. I never meant to hurt you; I really only ever wanted you to be happy. I never thought of it from your perspective. I always just assumed I was helping you make a better life for yourself. I just...." He bit his lower lip as his eyes glazed over with tears. "I didn't like seeing you so broken. Fuck."
He ran a hand across his jaw and broke our eye contact.
I was glad to see it affect him this way, it meant he wasn't as much of a psycho as I'd originally thought, or he was a damned good actor. I gave him a weak smile and walked to the door.
"Have a good night, Ben. I'll talk to you soon."
"I just ... well, thank you."
The look on his face stuck with me as I got into my car. I had to wait for the other agent to arrive before I could go anywhere, but I didn't want to wait in Ben's place. I was uncomfortable there.
I'd been surprised at how crushed he had been. I decided that his behavior from that point on would determine exactly how much of a fuck I’d give. If the way he acted today was all for show, he'd get nowhere with me. If this was real then maybe one day I could forgive him.
Especially since he had to be feverish to infect me. Just having the virus wasn't enough. The virus has to be active (we can tell because we get a high fever) when the bite occurs for the person to become a shifter.
Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1 Page 7
