Full Blooded jm-1

by Amanda Carlson

  Marcy didn’t even blink. “Got it.”

  “Oh, and Marcy?” She snapped her head up from the pile of food menus she’d already plucked from her filing drawer. “I’m upping your pay by thirty percent, effective last Friday. I wouldn’t want to lose the best-kept secret in town because I’m too cheap to notice the value of your extensive talents. And that includes the favor you did for us last night. Good technique with the smell thing, by the way. It totally worked.” Witches charged exorbitantly for their crafting services. There were no freebies. And we both knew it. “You can file it under ‘saving the boss’s ass’ or ‘awesome spell casting under extreme pressure,’ whichever works best for you.” I chuckled as I walked down the hallway.

  “Just doing my job,” she muttered after me.

  “I can hear you.”

  “Stupid werewolf hearing.”

  I was still smiling when I entered my office. Marcy would take my secret to the grave, and after what she did for me and my apartment, there was no sense trying to pretend it didn’t happen. I felt a small pang, because by knowing my new secret she was involved in this whether she wanted to be or not. But knowing her, she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. In fact, she’d probably choke the life out of me if she found out I’d been keeping such a thing from her. We didn’t have to have a conversation about it; she was smart and knew the stakes.

  My office was small and decorated with standard-issue furniture from the previous tenants. There was a conference room down the hall with a bigger table to accommodate larger groups, but on the whole, we usually met with our clients in a convenient spot of their choosing. The biggest selling point of this particular space, other than its nondescript nature, had been the big windows.

  I plucked a thick folder off my desk as I sat down. I shoved my purse by my feet and set Marcy’s notes to the side to go over later. Getting back to work was a godsend. Making sure my mind stayed off everything was the key to keeping myself sane.

  I opened the case file. The imp we’d been tracking the night of my change, Drake Jensen, was a forty-seven-year-old lowlife slimeball, and it looked like he’d been busy these last few nights.

  I scanned Drake’s background in the file. It was the first time I’d seen any of this, because he was a new target and the report had taken time to generate. An imp was the lowest demon on the totem pole, which meant he was stronger than a human, but not impossible to catch. By nature, an imp was half demon, half human, his demon side usually inherited from his father. Male demons were known to have the occasional fling with a human counterpart. Female demons were rare and reclusive.

  Drake, it seemed, got his rocks off on sex and fear, which was not unusual for certain kinds of imps of the sex demon variety. It fed them the way food feeds the rest of us. But instead of consenting adults, his chosen targets had been young innocents, which made him worse than slime.

  He’d recently been released from a human jail for soliciting underage sex and he was already back to his old filthy habits.

  We actually had quite a few files on imps because they typically caused the most trouble. They were one of the few super-natural Sects who didn’t care if they got caught. An imp usually had a specialized skill, depending on its parent demonic origin. But they all typically had weak magic, because demon magic was born of the blood, and human blood was extremely diluted. Like pouring a shot of vodka in a gallon of water. Hard to get yourself drunk.

  Drake’s abilities were still unknown. It was a shame birth certificates weren’t more helpful, indicating things like “great-grandfather was a fire demon” or “child may have lingering perverse sexual tendencies, from twice-removed sex demon uncle.” Because of the sex fixation, we were fairly sure he’d come from an incubus, which meant he most likely possessed the power of sexual persuasion, a dangerous skill to have.

  I glanced through the last pages. Drake was on the move. He’d gone to the same movie theater parking lot the past three nights in a row and had been agitated last night in particular. He’d actually left his car, but hadn’t physically approached anyone.

  I set the folder down on my desk.

  If Drake had left his vehicle, his sexual need was coming to a head. Literally. Most incubi had to have sex once every few weeks to fuel their life force. If Drake was still targeting innocents, I was looking forward to catching him and making him pay for his crimes.

  Almost immediately a clear image of me pummeling Drake jumped into my head and a sudden jolt of satisfaction surged through me. I grabbed on to the edge of my desk to steady myself, leaving little half-moon nailprints in the cheap laminant wood. I had him by the neck. He was struggling, but it was no contest. A tide of endorphins rode through my blood-stream, dizzying me.

  My wolf growled happily inside my head, snapping her muzzle in agreement.

  Hold on there, sister. One step at a time.

  I needed food.

  I spent the remainder of the day making calls and eating. I shoveled in as much food as Marcy could lay in front of me. My hunger was insatiable.

  It was sad, really, because at this rate I’d have to eat in private from now on. There was no way I could go into a restaurant and order three cheeseburgers at a time and then gobble them down in front of anyone with any sense. And there wasn’t enough time to go to three different restaurants for a normal-sized meal every time I was hungry. It kind of sucked, because I hated cooking, but I was going to have to learn in a hurry; either that or be resigned to the bleak fate of eating prepackaged food or takeout for the rest of eternity.

  Marcy was positively gleeful as she dropped another greasy takeout bag on my desk.

  I ripped into it without hesitation.

  “Good Lord, woman,” Marcy said. “At this rate you’re going to be twice your size by the end of the week.”

  “Be quiet or I’ll make you eat with me,” I managed between bites. “Not all of us were lucky enough to be born with the body of a supermodel.” Marcy was tall, svelte, and had incredible curves, which is exactly why normal women referred to women like her as “bitches.” It was completely unfair. She could ingest anything she wanted and still look phenomenal. I was hoping my newer, faster metabolism would shape me into a Marcy over time. Doubtful, but I could hope.

  She took one look at my face and made a hasty retreat, but not before throwing over her shoulder, “If I ate like that, my stomach would explode. Then you’d be sorry.”

  “Quiet, hot stuff,” I said, my mouth already around another burger.

  After my third dip into food, I finally had time to call Nathan Dunn, my landlord, back. It was a quick conversation, and I heartily accepted his offer to help clean up the mess in my apartment. I briefly explained about the piles of furniture and he assured me he would have a team out there shortly to take care of it.

  I was mildly surprised I hadn’t “heard” from Tyler yet. Communicating telepathically was handy. I gave a small tweak out-ward in my mind.

  Tyler, are you there?

  Nothing.

  I wondered if there was a distance range. Weird.

  Next I wrote my statement for the police and faxed it over to the station. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to James in person, but my dad was going to fill him in. Ray hadn’t shown up today waving an arrest warrant, so that meant the tranq findings hadn’t come back yet. Or they’d been inconclusive. Even better.

  The last thing on my agenda was to retry my potential new client. I’d tried calling him earlier in the day, but hadn’t gotten through and there’d been no voicemail option, which was a little strange. Everybody had voicemail. I picked up Marcy’s note, which had his name highlighted as “the cute-voiced Colin Rourke” and a phone number.

  “We’ll just see about that,” I mumbled as I dialed.

  “Hello, this is Rourke,” a very strong male voice answered on the first ring.

  I had to admit, it held a very nice bravado. There was also an intriguing trace accent I couldn’t readily place. “Hello, Mr. Rourk
e. This is Molly Hannon, of Hannon & Michaels. You contacted us yesterday about a possible problem? What can I do for you?”

  “Ah, Ms. Hannon.” I could detect a hint of a smile behind those words. “Thanks for getting back to me. It seems I’m having some issues with my business partner, and I’d like to retain your services.”

  “What kind of problems specifically?” I asked. We took most cases, but sometimes things weren’t nearly as dire as people originally thought.

  “I believe he’s embezzling money from our company.”

  Well, that sounded dire enough. “Okay, we’d be happy to help. Let’s see what we can do.”

  “Ms. Hannon,” he said. “I want to make this extremely clear from the get-go. I’m retaining your services, and your services alone. This is a highly sensitive matter and I’m not interested in making it a three-ring circus. Privacy is of the utmost importance.”

  I cleared my throat, immediately tamping down my annoyance. “I assure you, Mr. Rourke, Hannon & Michaels is a very professional firm. We treat everything we do with extreme privacy. Performing circus acts won’t be anywhere in your contract, not even in the fine print.”

  Rich laughter echoed over the line. “I sincerely hope not.” Then his voice dipped, taking on a low, gravelly tone. “I’m looking forward to meeting you, Ms. Hannon. You come highly recommended for this line of work.”

  “Thank you.” I think. “I look forward to meeting you too, Mr. Rourke. We can set a time to further discuss your situation right now, if it’s convenient. When are you available next?”

  “It’s Rourke, no need for the ‘Mr.’”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My name. It’s just Rourke.”

  “Um … okay, Rourke. When would be a good time to meet?”

  “I’m heading out of town on business for the rest of the month Thursday morning, so the only possible time I can meet is tomorrow night.”

  “That should work.” We arranged to meet over drinks the next night in a nearby bar.

  “Looking forward to it,” he said.

  If I was being honest with myself, I’d have to say I was intrigued. My wolf had taken notice too, surprising since she’d been relatively quiet since we’d come to work. However, the moment Rourke had come on the line, she’d begun to prowl. Having her in my head was beyond strange. It was like two separate parts of myself were alive and could operate independently. It was going to take some getting used to. But I pushed it out of my mind for now. I couldn’t afford to dwell on it, since my top priority was still business as usual. Once things settled back to normal, like I was madly hoping they would, I was going to allow myself to take as much time as I needed to figure everything out.

  I stood and stretched. It was after five and I needed to run a few errands before Nick and I met with the lovable Drake Jensen. I was eager for him to make his move tonight, so we could be done with it.

  “Have you talked to Dreamsicle yet?” Marcy asked pointedly as I passed her desk on my way out.

  “I have. And he did sound pretty darn dreamy. I’m meeting with him tomorrow evening at eight o’clock to discuss the case.”

  “Okay, I’ll jot it down.” I watched her simply mark tomorrow night’s calendar date with a big heart. Smartass. “And just so you know, I have a good feeling about this one,” she said with a saucy wink.

  “You say that about everyone.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re starting to lose credibility. Plus, you know I never date clients. It goes against my high ethical standards.”

  “When you’re done with the job, he won’t be your client anymore. Voilà,” she said. “And I’m bound to be right one of these times. I have witchy instincts, you know.”

  I chuckled. “If Nick calls, tell him I’ll pick him up at six-thirty.” He’d been gone all day, which wasn’t unusual. We were both out of the office a lot. His current case was trying to track down a mystery graffiti artist whose art enthralled those who came too close. It was a tough one.

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” Marcy said.

  I walked to the door.

  “And, Jess?”

  “Yep?” I turned.

  “I’m really glad you’re back.”

  “I’m really glad to be back.” I smiled.

  “No need to get a big head about it.”

  7

  I shut my car door and a soft ping floated through my head, followed by my brother’s voice. Heading home already?

  Yep, but I’m leaving on another assignment in a couple of hours with Nick. It should be no big deal, just a stakeout. Are you nearby?

  I’m a couple blocks away. I can see your car from where I’m standing. Everything’s been quiet on all fronts.

  That’s a relief. I glanced out my window and down the street. I couldn’t see Tyler or his completely unsubtle shiny red Mustang anywhere, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see me. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but nothing sounds perfectly great to me.

  Nick is in charge of covering you tonight, so if you two decide to split up you have to give me a call.

  Okay. Have you heard anything new from up north? I was hoping the wolves on the Compound had calmed down overnight.

  I haven’t heard anything specifically. Dad still has everybody on lockdown now. They were going to have several meetings about it today. I don’t think they’re buying you haven’t changed, and Hank has been on a rampage, shouting garbage about you as usual.

  Shit. That’s not good. Well, to top off that crappy news, Ray Hart is the detective on my case.

  The asshole who gave you trouble on the force?

  The very same. He also found my tranq. They have it at the lab as we speak. He thinks it’s highly illegal and is hoping to pin it on me.

  We should’ve taken care of him years ago.

  Killing people is not always the perfect solution to everything. Dad didn’t think it was a problem and has Doc on it already. They’ll come up with something plausible. I also told Ray I wasn’t home because I was camping with my new boyfriend, James.

  He half snorted half coughed.

  Yes, and to top it off, we were so madly in love he made me forget my purse and all the necessities a normal person needs on vacation.

  Tyler laughed. That’s a good one. I’m sure James will play along; he’s a good guy, even though that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. And don’t worry about trouble cropping up, one of us will be close by from now on, including Danny. I’ll get you a Pack cell phone shortly. You can use that to get a hold of the rest of us. The Pack changed their cells more often than an infant soiled their diaper. I’d never bothered with one. Honestly, if I’d had a problem big enough to bother Pack with prior to this—I might as well have just used my own damn phone.

  I know, I saw Danny today. It was nice to see a friendly face, especially if a storm of discontent is on its way. He was exactly the same. Nothing ever changes with him.

  Danny is loyal to Pack. You can trust him with your life.

  I was curious about our brain connection. When we were kids, we were never farther than a few miles away from each other. How far away do you think we can do this mind thing from? Do you think there are stipulations? Like mind-wave distance boundaries or something?

  Pretty far, I’d assume. I was outside the city limits all day, just got back. I wanted to touch base before you went home, so this was the easiest way.

  It was my turn to snort. You mean you were ordered by Dad to check up on me to see if I was still breathing once you got back into town? To make sure no rogue wolves or trusted Pack mates have torn me to pieces yet?

  That too. He chuckled.

  I sobered. Tyler. I paused. How long do you think we really have until my shift to full blooded blows up in our faces? Before there’s no turning back? I desperately want my life to go back to normal, but it doesn’t seem remotely possible. I want you to tell me the truth. The honest-to-goodness, in-my-face truth.

  Honestly? He sighed. I don’t have a cl
ue. If we can quiet the Pack, we gain time. If not … I don’t know. What happened to you is completely unprecedented. None of us have any idea what we’re dealing with yet. We have no way to know how the community will react to the news. The wolves have always feared the Cain Myth, but other supes might have that information too. I have no idea what they’ll choose to do with it, if anything.

  I’m fooling myself, aren’t I? Thinking I can just go back to my normal life like nothing’s happened—like I’m not a freak of nature. Like there’s not going to be an army rising up against me at the first opportunity.

  No. I don’t think you’re fooling yourself. You’re not the type. He paused for a moment. I think we’re doing the right thing here. If we have any chance of keeping the biggest secret in supernatural history under wraps—and us werewolves are known for our secrecy, make no mistake about it—then you need to be right where you are now, pretending nothing has happened. If it does happen to get out, it happened to Jessica McClain, who is currently in parts unknown, not to Molly Hannon, who’s been minding her business while this story unfolds. He cleared his throat, which sounded odd. I think if we keep your alias intact, we have a shot. I really do.

  A shot. That’s not saying a whole hell of a lot.

  Well, it’s more than saying we’re fucked right out of the gates.

  I laughed. That’s very true.

  And, Jess? Now that you’re a wolf, you know you’re going to have to make a full change soon, right? A new wolf feels the pull often. Your body will ache to run. We usually head down by the river after midnight. Next week at the very latest.

  I shivered remembering my change. Not in my top ten fun moments. Got it. Other than hunger, I’m not feeling much of anything.

  It’ll come.

  I’ll take your word for it.

  If you need me, you know where to find me.

  I opened my apartment door and found a surprise. All of my broken furniture, which basically meant everything I owned, had been cleared out. Including the shredded couch. The floor also appeared to have been swept and mopped, and other than the deep, angry gouge marks and a few ragged dents in the wall, it looked like a new apartment.