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

by Lauren Jankowski

  Jensen swallowed and quelled the tremors that raced through his lean frame. He approached the card again, bending down and picking it up. He quickly stuffed it into his jacket’s inner pocket without looking at it again.

  He turned his attention back to the necklace still clutched in his hand and examined it closer, frustrated at his inability to place where he’d seen it. When it hit him, Jensen swallowed the pain that welled up in his chest. He quickly put the necklace in the pocket of his jacket. There were some questions he needed answered, and he knew whom he had to ask. Although, he wasn’t sure she would be willing to speak to him.

  *~*~*~*~*

  Jet moved through Sly’s forest, lost in grief and self-loathing. Passion had locked herself in her room in the Meadows and steadfastly refused to come out. The only one whom she would allow in and would speak to was Lilly, who was currently with her. Jet knew Passion blamed him for what had happened. Hell, he blamed himself. Though he knew there was no way he could’ve done anything to prevent Isis’ death, Jet still felt guilty. He didn’t know what to do and was at the end of his rope, which was why he decided to try and speak with Sly. He had searched the forest for about an hour and still could find no trace of his sometime informant.

  “Sly, please!” he called out. The only response he received was the sound of the winter winds rustling the branches of the taller trees. It made a sound similar to bones rattling together. He pressed his back against the nearest tree and slid down into a sitting position, closing his eyes. He needed a quiet moment in solitude to sort out his thoughts. A rumbling growl made Jet open his eyes again.

  In front of him sat a large tigress. She blended in with her surroundings, her piercing emerald eyes made even more vivid by the surrounding winter’s frost. Jet tilted his head as he looked at her, laughing without a hint of mirth.

  “I look for you for about an hour and the second I want solitude, here you are,” he commented. The tigress’ muscles began to change form as she melted into her usual human appearance. Muscles expanded and contracted, fur disappeared, and the tigress’ snout shrank and smoothly formed a human face. The enigmatic Sly soon sat before him.

  “Do you want me to leave?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she took in his appearance. Jet shook his head in response. It was one of the first times he had ever heard her sound … serious.

  “I need your advice and your help,” he explained softly, looking to her with grief-filled eyes. Sly rested her elbows on her knees, her chin supported by her hands which were folded on top of each other. She studied his face.

  “I captured Onyx when the Deverells and the Four tried to find the strange men at the Lair. Didn’t have a chance to question her though. I blinked and I was suddenly out in my forest and it was the afternoon, with the body of a scentless man next to me,” Sly told him. “I didn’t black out and I didn’t Appear, so whatever we’re dealing with has the ability to affect time and perception. The body of the man disappeared shortly afterward, as I had expected it would.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  Sly shrugged as she reclined on her elbows. “Got me. So what’s got you all gloom-and-doom now?”

  “Sly, it’s Isis,” he managed to choke out. That got Sly’s attention and she immediately sat up straight, a stunned expression on her face. Jet dropped his eyes, not able to hold her gaze anymore. He knew that she had read the grief in his eyes and deduced what had happened. Sly had always been perceptive, frighteningly so.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she stated. Jet glanced over to her, his blue-green eyes teary. Had it been any other time, Sly most likely would’ve taunted him mercilessly. Now she just looked at him with something that could almost be construed as sympathy or compassion. Sly got to her feet, moving over to Jet’s side, and sat down next to him. She leaned back so she was resting against the same tree. For a moment, they sat in silence and Jet was reminded of years long past, when they had been friends. Sly curved one leg so that she could rest her wrist on her knee

  “If you want my help, you have to listen to me,” Sly began after a moment, pinching her fingers together. “And follow my every instruction down to the letter.”

  Jet nodded. “I know.”

  “First, you need to tell me exactly what happened. If you weren’t there, tell me who was and who gave the account,” Sly instructed. “Have you heard from the High Council yet?”

  Jet let out another bark of laughter. “About an hour before I came to find you. They approved our request.”

  “Figures,” Sly responded. “Then we’re going to meet with an old acquaintance. The sooner the better. I recommend calling your better half to join us. Lilly has always been talented at parsing out roundabout answers.

  *~*~*~*~*

  Electra was determined not to cry. She stood in her sister’s room, rubbing her upper arms against the chill that seemed to invade the once warm space. She was looking around for something, though she wasn’t sure what exactly. A clue, a memento, a sign maybe. It was her current asinine task, something to keep her away from the heart-wrenching sobs from behind her mother’s door.

  Electra moved over to the nightstand, swallowing the lump that rose in her throat. She closed her eyes briefly and then reached out to the drawer. Sinking to her knees, Electra pulled open the small drawer. When she opened her light green eyes — a sob catching in her throat — something caught her attention. She noticed an open spiral; its pages covered with random notes. Electra pulled the spiral out of the drawer, leafing through the pages, her brow creasing. She sat back on her heels as she studied it. It was all about Coop, what little information the protectors had found out about him. Electra turned another page and frowned at the strange symbol drawn in pen.

  A shadow fell over her. Without a moment of hesitation, Electra dropped the spiral and spun around, lashing out with her fist. Jensen let out a yelp of pain and crumpled to the floor as Electra’s solid punch came into contact with his gut. It felt like her fist was made of granite.

  “Dammit!” he managed to cough.

  When Electra realized whom she had hit, her eyes narrowed. The young guardian opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment when she noticed something glistening on the floor near Jensen’s head. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was.

  “Where did you get this?” Electra demanded as she reached out and snatched the necklace that was identical to her own. She held the small charm in her hand, running her index finger over the smooth cool gem.

  “Ow,” Jensen moaned, turning onto his side and trying to get his breath back.

  “Oh quit being a baby. I didn’t hit you that hard,” Electra growled as she stood up, holding the necklace up to the dull light of the winter sun. It glistened and sparkled, even in the gray light. It was Isis’ — she was sure of it. There were only two like it and she was wearing the other one. Jensen gave her a venomous look as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

  “I found it.” Jensen paused to clear his throat, reaching into his inner pocket. “I found it with this.”

  He produced the small business card he found in the envelope along with Isis’ necklace. Electra snatched it out of his hand, her hand moving like a cobra striking its prey. Jensen looked irritated as he got to his feet, but she was too busy examining both objects to care. She glanced around the room and her eyes fell on the spiral. Electra picked it up from the floor and put it on the bed.

  “What were you looking for? What did you find?” Electra said to herself as she looked at the spiral. The wind rattled against the panes of glass. She glanced to the side when lamp light fell across the bed, better illuminating the hastily scribbled notes. Jensen pulled his hand back from the lamp, his attention focused on the spiral. The color drained from his face and he took a step back, looking nothing short of terrified.

  “Jensen? What’s wrong?” Electra asked. Jensen pointed at the spiral with a shaking finger.

  “That-that symbol, what is it? Why did she draw tha
t?” he stammered, his wide eyes never moving from the open page. Electra glanced at it again before looking back to Jensen.

  “Have you seen it before?” she asked. Jensen swallowed, his hands trembling. He stepped forward again, forcing himself to look at the page.

  “Flip over the business card,” he said, running a hand over his mouth. Electra did and her eyes widened a little.

  “It’s the same one,” she observed, glancing up at Jensen again.

  “I’ve seen it before. The night my family was murdered, our house burned to the ground. My sister and I managed to escape, barely. When we were leaving, I happened to catch a glimpse of the main hall, where the bodies of our parents had fallen. On the wall, in flames, was this exact same symbol,” he explained, swallowing again. He looked as though he would be sick.

  “Are you sure?” Electra asked, looking back to the symbol.

  “I’ll never be able to forget it. I’ve looked for it everywhere: history books, anthropology studies, various mythologies, anywhere else I could think of. I’ve found similar symbols in history, parts of it, but never this exact combination,” Jensen answered. “Why did she draw it? Where did she see it?”

  “When we first found my sister, she had photographed Bryn’s body. This symbol was painted in her blood on the wall near where she fell,” Electra said, her voice going quiet. Jensen looked over at her. Electra met his gaze, before turning her attention back to the spiral. She knew his story. Though the Aldridges had all been wiped out long before she was born, every guardian knew about them. They had always been loyal to the guardians, fighting bravely when called upon to do so. Their praises were sung in many ancient guardian ballads. When Jensen’s parents had been murdered, along with the rest of his family, the guardians observed a period of mourning.

  “Tell me about Coop,” Jensen requested, drawing Electra’s attention back to him.

  “You’ve heard what little we know about him,” she replied, noticing how the protector was avoiding looking at the picture in the spiral. She turned the page and flipped it over.

  “I’ve heard the official story from Jet and I know they were looking into his possible connection with this Mark Waterson. Now I want the real story behind this guy,” Jensen clarified.

  Electra turned around, sitting on her sister’s bed, running her fingers through her hair. “Coop was a man Isis met in a dance club in town. From what she told me, he was a nice guy, if a bit strange. She thought he might have survived some kind of trauma. Whether it was from his mannerisms or just a feeling she had, I don’t know. I only met him briefly, when he was being held in the dungeons. He was … different. He was able to punch through guardian glass and didn’t even damage his hand. Coop also showed signs of having superior speed, agility, and senses. The Four were researching old stories of the rebels about similar mysterious shape shifters. I really don’t know how far they got.”

  Electra leaned back a little, studying the protector. Jensen had an expression of intense concentration on his face as he started pacing, rubbing his palms together. His brows knitted together and Electra could tell he was disturbed.

  Electra tilted her head as she looked at Jensen. “Something wrong?”

  Jensen shook his head. “This whole thing was set up.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Jet was right,” Jensen said as though to himself. “Everything is connected somehow, going back to Coop, maybe even further. Dammit! I didn’t see it!”

  “See what?” Electra got to her feet. “Jensen? See what?”

  “That whole scene, it was too perfect,” Jensen continued, still pacing about in front of her. “The cop cars, the ambulance, the two sisters Nero and I went out with the night before. This whole thing was a ploy to kill your sister. I know it sounds completely mad, but I know plots when I see them. Trust me.”

  Jensen adjusted one of his sleeves, checking the button to make sure it wasn’t loose. His fine clothing was perfectly ironed and fit him like a glove. Gone was the disheveled grieving protector and in his place was the normal confident man.

  “How does Coop factor into this?” Electra asked. She wasn’t following his train of thought at all, but she was curious about it.

  “I’m still trying to work that out.” Jensen massaged the knuckles of his hand. “Maybe because of what he is or where he came from. Look, I woke up today and my apartment had been trashed. I think someone left those things in the hopes that I would pick up where Isis left off. There’s a puzzle here and we only have a few of the pieces. We need to arrange them.”

  Electra stared at Jensen, her expression reflecting disbelief. She was disturbed by everything that had taken place, but there was one thing in particular that was bothering her.

  “Jensen, why would they take her body?” she asked softly. Jensen stopped his pacing and looked back at her. She dropped her eyes to the floor, twisting her fingers.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  Jensen seemed to be onto something and Electra would be damned if she let him go at it alone. Isis was her sister, and she wanted to avenge her.

  “I need to find out what that symbol means,” Jensen’s quiet voice brought Electra out of her thoughts. “It’s important. It has turned up in too many places not to be.”

  “I’ll see if I can find anything in the Meadows library,” Electra offered. She stood up and disappeared in a flash of bright silver light. Jensen looked to the bed. Without thinking about it, he grabbed the spiral and left the room.

  *~*~*~*~*

  Roan paced around his cell in an almost neurotic way, as he had been doing ever since Astrea told him of his daughter’s demise. Damn fool, I told him, I told him not to play this game with her life, but did he listen to me? No! If I ever see the bastard again, I’ll throttle the life out of him, he thought, fury coursing through his veins. Still, Roan knew he was to blame as much as his associate. He had agreed to go along with the plan — it seemed like their best bet at the time. Roan stopped pacing, looking up at the ceiling. This was just one more thing he’d have to live with for the rest of his days.

  When he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, Roan glanced to the side. There, leaning against the wall across from the glass, was an old acquaintance. She hadn’t aged a day, which wasn’t unusual among shape shifters. Her sleek black hair was still short, barely touching her elegant neck. Her intelligent green eyes were still expressive and bright, though not betraying a single emotion or feeling. She was the epitome of the term femme fatale, a woman as dangerous as she was beautiful. The mysterious Sly.

  Jet stood next to her, stone-faced. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Like Sly, he also hadn’t aged a day. His hair was dark as ever and his blue-green eyes were still bright. He showed a few more signs of age than Sly and still looked as though he held the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  Standing a few feet in front of Jet was the protector’s lovely wife, Lilly. Her golden hair was done up in a messy bun rather than the usual braid and her dark blue eyes were red-rimmed from crying. Like Sly, her expression was unreadable, but there was a softness to her features. It gave her a very feminine appearance, common to most guardian women. The protectors had learned early on that underestimating Lilly was something they did at their own risk. She was a capable leader and had frequently proved it over the many years she ruled with Jet. Lilly stood framed in the sunlight that poured through the windows. Her long green dress glistened a little in the light.

  “Roan.” Sly nodded her head in greeting, drawing the assassin’s attention back to her. He approached the glass, smirking.

  “Of all the people I expected to see, you certainly weren’t one,” he stated. She mirrored his smirk as she looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you’ve never been concerned with the affairs of other shape shifters, especially not the protectors,” Roan replied, a thin smile dancing across his features. “You were one of the onl
y shape shifters who never feared me, and that’s why I’ve always respected you.”

  Sly leaned her shoulder against the glass, her eyes never leaving his. “Talk is cheap, Roan, and certainly not worth my valuable time. If you truly are here for some sort of redemption, tell me what you know about the people who were hunting Isis. We both know that you’re keeping something close to your chest. It’s time to show your hand.”

  Roan looked between the three on the other side of the glass. “I take it the High Council finally granted your request to see me. Guardians, always too little too late, right?”

  Jet’s eyes narrowed briefly. Like the rest of his family, Jet had never liked the assassin, and after everything that had happened, the sentiment wasn’t going to change in the foreseeable future. Lilly’s expression remained neutral as she continued watching Roan.

  “I can’t tell you exactly who was hunting her, because even I’m not entirely sure,” he began, pulling the chair in his cell up to the glass. “However, I can offer advice as to what your next move should be and why. I doubt you’ll listen—”

  “Roan, whatever little patience I had has long since expired,” Jet warned. “No more riddles, tell us what you know.”

  Roan crossed his arms over his chest, looking over at Jet, unimpressed with the attempt at toughness. The dungeons were quiet and still around them.

  “Can I finish now, or would you like to vaguely threaten me some more?” he asked coolly. Lilly’s eyebrow raised a little and she crossed her arms over her chest.