Through Storm and Night (The Shape Shifter Chronicles Book 2)

by Lauren Jankowski

  “Thank you,” Sly said icily, her patience long gone. She stormed down the hall, her soft black shoes not making a sound on the dark green carpet. Since it was incredibly cold outside, she had chosen to wear a long sleeved mauve sweater. Over it, she had on a long black winter coat complete with matching scarf and driving gloves. The coat was mainly to hide the sleek battle knives she kept hidden in her sleeves, ready to slide out at a moment’s notice. The coat’s length also helped hide the Beretta in her thigh holster.

  When Sly reached the archive room, she looked around, observing the few people sporadically seated about the large open area. There was an older man flipping through a newspaper, a tall thin woman reading a thick book at another table off to the side, and a teenager in front of her with paper cluttering the table he was sitting at. He was writing frantically on a sheet of loose-leaf paper, his index finger placed on the opened textbook in front of him. Sly could feel him stare at her when he looked up, but ignored him. Men, so easy, so boring, she thought as she moved along the aisles. She had decided to try the library first, planning to research a few years of missing persons using old newspapers. I’m going to have the stench of humans on me for weeks, she thought irritably as she headed towards the microfilm readers, intending to go through a few ancient papers first. On her way, she spotted the computers on her right, most of which were empty. She mentally kicked herself for not thinking of that sooner. Sly moved to one of the more isolated machines and sat down, clicking on the browser icon. She typed a web address into the URL bar.

  Sly had seen pictures of Coop from the pools in the Meadows. The guardians didn’t have much in the way of modern electronics, but Adonia had allowed her to look into one of the seeing pools. It was a pond that revealed clear images through ancient guardian magic. Sly was granted permission to look in it since she was going to be the one looking for Coop. It was difficult to search for someone when you had no idea what the person looked like.

  Coop had seemed familiar, but Sly had no idea when or where she had seen him before. Lilly mentioned that Coop indicated he knew her and that bothered Sly to no end. She had decided to research disappearances from the past twenty or so years, figuring that was as good a place as any to start. Sly glanced over her shoulder, making sure she was still alone, before turning back to the screen. She found a link to the public records database and clicked on “Missing Persons.” She scrolled down first to the last names starting with “C” although she knew it was a long shot. Sure enough, there were no Coopers matching the description she was looking for. She next skimmed through the unnamed section. It turned out to be another dead end, something Jet and Lilly had warned her about. Searching for Coop would mean encountering numerous dead ends and leads that went absolutely nowhere.

  Sly next clicked on a link that had missing person flyers. She had just about given up any hope of finding anything when one description caught her eye. Clean shaven, dark brown hair, blue eyes, correct height and weight. Sly’s interest was piqued, even though she knew it was unlikely to be anything useful. The vague description could be a number of men. Still, she clicked on the link to an image that went with the description.

  “Hello there,” Sly murmured to herself with a grin as she stared at the image. The man in the picture looked remarkably like Coop. He was older, a few gray hairs peppered his dark brown hair, and he had lighter blue eyes. Sly tapped her lip, thinking. Shape shifters under constant stress, be it grief or any other strong emotion, had been known to show subtle signs of their true age such as lightly graying hair. It was possible that this man, a Mr. Mark Waterson, might have some kind of familial connection to Coop. The same first name had not escaped Sly’s sharp eyes.

  She printed out the image and information about the missing man, and possible shape shifter, and deleted her search history. Sly smiled as she grabbed the two pages of information complete with picture. Things were starting to look up in her hunt for the mysterious Coop.

  *~*~*~*~*

  “You could’ve just left it to me. I don’t need a goddamn chauffer.”

  Jet stared ahead at the small suburban house, tuning out Sly. She had done nothing but complain ever since he told her he was coming with her to question the daughter of the man who looked like Coop — the only person who was looking for him. Or had been, Jet thought grimly.

  “Honestly Jet, I’m hurt that you don’t trust me,” Sly continued from the passenger side.

  “I’m sure,” Jet said dryly.

  “You don’t think I can interrogate a possible lead?”

  “The fact that you used the word ‘interrogate’ tells me you can’t,” Jet replied as he spun his car keys around his index finger.

  “What’s wrong with interrogate?” Sly asked, looking out her window. Being winter, the streets were mostly empty. A tall, athletic man with his large black German Shepherd jogged down the street past the car. There were some kids screaming and running around in the snow in the front yard of the house on the corner behind them.

  “She’s not a suspect in any crime we’re investigating. She’s an innocent woman who is, or was, looking for her missing father,” Jet responded, looking at Sly. As he expected, she snorted in amusement.

  “Innocent? Jet, nobody is innocent. When are you going to get that?”

  Jet let out a long sigh and rubbed his forehead. Sly rolled her eyes over to him, smiling in mock pleasantness as she bit her tongue. Jet found Sly’s pessimism was exasperating, though she insisted she was actually a realist. Sly once explained that she recognized the world for what it was, not what she wished it was. His thoughts were interrupted when Sly opened her door and got out of the car. Jet mirrored her actions on the other side. They both glanced back to the house on the corner when one of the playing kids let out an ear-piercing shriek.

  “Aren’t you supposed to keep those things on a leash after dark?” Sly grumbled as they moved towards the house where the man’s daughter lived with her husband and infant daughter. They walked up the steps to the front door. Jet rang the doorbell and stepped back.

  “Please let me do the talking,” Jet whispered to Sly without looking at her. Sly shrugged and gestured for him to go ahead. If he wanted to deal with humans, or shape shifters pretending to be human, then more power to him as far as she was concerned. They had researched the man’s daughter and wife earlier that day. There wasn’t much information at all on Waterson’s wife.

  The door soon opened and a petite woman stood there, an infant balanced on her hip. Her dark brown hair was done up in a loose bun. Some strands drifted about her face, framing it. The baby stared at the two strangers with bright blue eyes. The smell of a meal drifted out from the warm house — some kind of pasta, as near as Jet and Sly could tell.

  “Yes?” the woman asked in a soft voice. She looked between the two of them, her eyes fixing briefly on Jet. Jet was now certain the woman was a shape shifter. He had already suspected as much from the research he and Sly had done.

  “Are you Mrs. Cara Rodriguez?” Jet asked. The infant stuck her hand in her mouth, drooling all over an orange-stained fist, staring at Sly curiously. The two could feel the warmth from inside drift out into the frigid winter night.

  “Yes. Can I help you?”

  “Cara, do you recognize me?” Jet asked. He was in a bit of a hurry and he could almost hear Sly’s ire rising next to him.

  “No, I’m sorry, I don’t,” she replied. Sly snickered and leaned against the wall to her right, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “All right,” Jet said, nodding. He understood some shape shifters just wanted to blend into the “normal” world with the rest of the humans. He didn’t think it was the healthiest or wisest decision, but it was their choice, not his. Jet certainly wasn’t going to judge them for it.

  “If you’re looking for Will, he’ll be home this weekend,” Cara stated.

  “Unbelievable,” Sly muttered under her breath and Jet struggled not to roll his eyes. He knew how much she disliked
being around humans, particularly in the suburbs. Being surrounded by humans for extended amounts of time put Sly on edge. Groups of humans could be unpredictable at times.

  “Actually, we’re here to ask you a few questions,” Jet replied, “about your father’s disappearance.”

  “That was more than twenty years ago,” Cara said, her blue eyes widening. “I already told the police everything I could remember.”

  “I know, but we have some follow-up questions,” Jet responded gently.

  Cara swallowed, looking hesitant, before nodding and holding the door open for them. Jet glanced at Sly as he moved into the house. She shrugged and followed him inside.

  “Please, have a seat,” Cara said, gesturing to the worn couch that sat against the wall in the main room. She put the infant in a playpen that sat off to the side before sitting in a nearby rocking chair. She smiled affectionately as her daughter began playing with one of the soft, brightly colored toys.

  “She looks just like you,” Jet commented with a smile as he watched the young girl bite down on her toy. He remembered when his children were that young and small.

  “If you start speaking in babytalk, I’m leaving,” Sly warned, drawing him out of his musing. Jet looked over at her, irritated. She smiled as she crossed one long leg over the other and rested her head against her thumb and index finger, her eyes daring him to reply. Her eyes wandered over to the Christmas tree near the TV, as well as the stockings above the small fireplace and she shook her head. Unlike Jet, Sly felt perfectly within her rights to be judgmental about such ridiculousness.

  “Thank you,” Cara said to Jet, casting a nervous glance at Sly. “You said you had questions about my father. Are you detectives?”

  “Cara, please, it’s just us. I’ve been around long enough to recognize another shape shifter. You obviously recognized me on the porch, otherwise you never would have let me in your house,” Jet pointed out. The woman bit her lower lip and glanced at the windows.

  “Look, I’m just trying to lead a normal life, just like everyone else,” she finally relented. “I don’t want to have anything to do with the world of shape shifters.”

  “That’s your choice, but can we please drop the charade for the time being? It will make things much easier,” Jet answered, his voice becoming a little firmer. Even Sly was impressed with Jet’s sudden turn. He knew when to use the leader card.

  Cara nodded and folded her hands in her lap. “Why the sudden interest in my father’s disappearance?”

  “We’re actually trying to locate another shape shifter. A man who goes by the name of Coop,” Jet responded.

  Cara frowned in confusion. “What does that have to do with my father?”

  “Your father looks very similar to Coop. It’s an uncanny resemblance,” Jet said, leaning forward. “Cara, do you have a brother or a cousin or any other relative who went by that name?”

  Cara shook her head. “My parents were both only children and so was I.”

  Jet and Sly exchanged a look. That was strange, but not entirely unheard of. Most shape shifters came from large families, due to their normal practice of living with multiple partners, usually in open relationships. They viewed marriage as an outdated human tradition and preferred living with multiple lovers and friends. However, Jet lived in a similar situation to Cara. He was one of the very few shape shifters who preferred monogamy, which many shape shifters found incredibly peculiar. Even his siblings and parents had found his choice to be odd.

  “Can we talk to your mother?” Sly asked, her eyes traveling back to the woman. Both Cara and Jet stared at her. Cara looked suspicious.

  “Look, we know she’s trying to hide and I respect that. I just need to ask her a few questions,” Jet explained, attempting to be reassuring.

  “I don’t think she would want to talk to you,” Cara said with a shake of her head.

  Sly smiled pleasantly. “Can we just try? It’s very, very important that we find this man. Who knows? Our search might turn up some answers about your father.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “Look, Cara,” Sly began, an edge creeping into her voice as she leaned forward. “We just want to talk to her. However, if you keep acting evasive, I’m going to lose my patience. If I lose my patience . . . well, there’s no telling what I might do. How do you think your little Stepford community would react to learning there is a mythical creature living right under their very noses? Might bring about a new era of flaming torches and pitchforks. So run along and fetch Mommy’s number for us or watch your little community descend into a modern interpretation of the Salem Witch Trials.”

  Jet stared at her, his mouth falling open. If she thought she could get away with that, she had lost her mind. Cara looked to Jet, unnerved by Sly’s threat.

  “You wouldn’t let her do that. You wouldn’t dare,” Cara stated, sounding very unsure. Sly snorted, causing Jet to whip around again and glare at her.

  “You think he could stop me?”

  Cara was quiet for another few moments, thinking. “You just want to talk to her?”

  Sly nodded, running a finger over the arm of the couch. “Just a pleasant chat, I promise. Jet can go by himself if you prefer.”

  Cara stood up and moved toward the small kitchen at the back of the house. They could hear her shuffling through drawers. Jet turned his body so he fully faced Sly, who smiled at him, unbothered.

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jet. You know I’d never expose myself like that in public,” Sly reassured him as she looked at her nails with indifference. “I’m not suicidal.”

  “You’re sadistic, Sly,” Jet growled from behind gritted teeth. “That was cruel. You didn’t have to scare her like that.”

  “And what was your brilliant plan? Sit here yapping about tea cozies and doilies? Sorry, Jet, I have better things to do than play house with June Cleaver.”

  Jet opened his mouth to reply when Cara came back from the kitchen. He turned and smiled politely again, accepting the small scrap of paper with her mother’s phone number on it.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d both leave now,” Cara said, crossing her arms over her chest. Jet nodded and stood up, as did Sly. They both made their way to the door, showing themselves out. They weren’t surprised to hear the deadbolt slide into place once the door shut.

  Sly was quiet until they got in the car. Jet turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. He reached forward and switched on the heat, cranking it up.

  “Jet, I have a really bad feeling about this,” Sly mentioned, gazing out the window to the snow-covered landscape.

  Jet frowned as he pulled out into the empty street. “About what?”

  “Coop, the Key, this whole situation,” Sly responded. “A lot of things just seem . . . off. Why is Cara’s mother hiding? There’s some bigger picture here and I feel like we’re missing it.”

  Jet sighed as he made a left turn. He shared Sly’s uneasiness and had ever since first learning about the Key years ago when it had first been referenced in the guardians’ book of Oracle. It was supposed to be a tool of immense destruction, capable of severing the tie between the Meadows and Earth, something that would be disastrous and possibly even apocalyptic. The prophecy was maddeningly vague and the evidence Jet had been able to glean from it pointed to a flashdrive, which contained a virus capable of overriding any computer programming. Recently, he had come to suspect the flashdrive was being used to direct the protectors’ actions. By whom or what, he still didn’t know.

  “That’s why we’re investigating,” Jet answered as he switched on his turn signal. “We need to find the Key. And if Coop is tied to it somehow, we need to know. There are just too many unanswered questions right now. If we don’t find answers soon . . . well, that could be very bad for us.”

  “Yeah,” Sly murmured quietly, but Jet could tell that something was still bothering her. There was silence between the two for the rest of the drive.
/>   CHAPTER THREE

  As Christmas drew nearer, the surge in crime officially ended. It not only ended, the rate dropped significantly and things stabilized among the assassins in a way that had never been seen before. The man in possession of the flashdrive that some thought to be the Key knew something was wrong. He had lived long enough to recognize when things were too quiet. He tapped the unnaturally cold flashdrive against his upper lip as he stared at the screen of his laptop. His small home/office was a plain windowless room hidden in the back of an old hotel. He rented from the owner, one of his few allies. She agreed to keep his secrets, no questions asked. Like him, she recognized when things were off and knew of the danger lurking in plain sight.

  “You rang?”

  The man looked up from the screen, not surprised to see his brother leaning against the wall by the door. His green eyes were tired and defeated, which didn’t surprise the man. He knew he had put that look in the once vibrant pools of green, but he really couldn’t care less. In his book, his brother deserved whatever misery he felt.

  He tossed the Key to his younger brother, who caught it and looked at it, confused. “And you’re giving this to me because . . . ?”

  The man smiled. He had been waiting for this for a long time. “It’s time for you to turn yourself in.”

  His brother raised his eyes to him, staring at him for a moment. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly cruel when you want to be?”

  “You calling someone cruel? Now that is entertaining,” the man answered as he leaned back in the old creaky chair behind the ancient desk. The small dwelling was cool in temperature, mainly because the man never turned on the heat. He had no real use for it.

  His brother was quiet for a long while as he examined the small flashdrive in his hand. “It’s so cold.”

  “I know. Most things attached to the Corporation are,” the man agreed.

  “We’re certain this isn’t the real thing?”

  “You’re smarter than I give you credit for,” the man replied before shaking his head. “It was made to gather the Four. If it had been that easy to find, Grenich would already have it. No, the Key is definitely a living being and the Corporation is still actively searching for whomever it is. I take it you’ve seen this.”