Dead Shifter Walking

by Kim Schubert

  That fatigue caught up with me, as I slammed into a wall, turned and found an enormous wolf shifter in mid-form throwing around the patrons of the gallery. Lowering my center of gravity, I slammed into his black and silver midsection taking us both down. Mid-form made this fucker tall with the head of an overly large and aggressive wolf combined with a hairy almost human body; it was a form that drove fear into most. The stench emitting from him had me wrinkling my nose as we rolled onto the orange floor tiles.

  There is only one sure way to kill a shifter, beheading, and, no, I did not have a large sword hidden in my bra nor did I have a magic bra or panties that would turn into a sword. All this I contemplated as I blasted punch after punch into his face that concaved as I hit it, leaving my hand covered in dirt and worms.

  What the fuck, a dead shifter? How the fuck do I kill this? I groaned.

  I must have said that last part out loud because Tate’s voice answered, “Keep it busy, Olivia, while we get everyone out of here.”

  Yeah, right, that sounded like a perfect plan as the thing threw me over his head, slamming my back into the metal beamed ceiling. Catching my ankle on my trip down, he held me upside down.

  The mangled jaw tried to form words I couldn’t understand as I used my other leg to kick brutally into its neck, hoping the bone there would crumble as easy as the face. I was rewarded for my effort as bone and dried muscle disintegrated against my kick. It was then I realized I had also lost my shoes somewhere while running to get here, as I was grossed out by bugs clinging to my toes.

  I didn’t have much time for that thought before big and ugly spun me adding some force behind his throw into a painting that was protected with glass. I cringed as I felt the slivers pierce my exposed back, landing hard on my knees driving more shards into my abused flesh.

  “Hang on, Olivia,” I heard Blake call out.

  “Don’t have anywhere else to go,” I yelled back as nasty sent a punishing kick to my stomach. I wanted to braid the pain away, but it was so intense I feared blacking out, so I pushed it away and staggered to my feet, feeling the glass cut the delicate flesh and watching the empty eye sockets track me.

  We were facing off with a table and chairs between us. Without any other option, I grabbed a chair, slamming it against the creeper’s head, which flew off with a sick crunch.

  My hopes of that killing it died when it stumbled, arms outstretched, still able to track me. Using another chair, I slammed it with all my force into a knee, hobbling it further, and then treated the other to the same. When it was unable to do more than crawl, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Olivia,” Tate said, “move now.” He held a burning bottle of something in his hands. Not needing to be told twice, I booked it over to him, limping heavily.

  Tate let it fly, igniting the dried corpse into a brilliant display of flames. Breathing deeply, I turned to Blake.

  “Geez, you’re a mess,” he said as though I hadn’t just gone six rounds with an undead shifter.

  “Yeah, well some ass made me get undressed,” I said, pulling shards of glass from my knees, tensing when Blake pulled a few out of my back.

  “The good news is that your lovely dress is still in one piece,” Tate said looking me over, “unlike you at the moment.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance. “We need to leave,” Blake said. I nodded, not wanting to surrender the rest of my minimal clothing to the police.

  Blake picked me up and walked to the balcony. He and Tate jumped the hundred-foot drop easily. I attempted to stay conscious, but my adrenalin was depleted, and with the heavy pull of lethargy still clinging to me, I gave in to the welcoming blackness.

  Chapter 8

  I was warm when I woke up; something soft brushed against my cheek.

  “She’s waking up,” I heard a faraway voice say.

  “Stay still, Olie, we’re almost done.” I thought I heard Kass along with the distinctive clink of glass hitting a mental tray and the smell of sanitization.

  I must have passed out again, for when I next awoke, the sun was blocked out by heavy curtains, and a warm body was pressed up against my own.

  “Kass?” I whispered.

  The warm body next to me shifted as I blinked rapidly, trying to regain my sight.

  “Easy there, Olie,” said Blake.

  “Blake?” I asked, finally getting my vision to come together.

  He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been drugged,” I grunted.

  He smiled, caressing my cheek. “That’s to be expected.”

  “Where am I?” I asked, not bothering to move from his touch.

  “My place,” he answered. “We needed to keep a twenty-four-hour watch on you to be sure the fucker doesn’t try and attack again.”

  I sighed, rolling to my back. “Yeah, all that crap,” I said, my moment of peaceful contentment broken. “Bathroom?” I asked, sitting up to a head rush.

  I felt Blake’s hand stabilizing me on the small of my back, while he used the other to point to a door to the left.

  “Leave the door open, Olie, so I can hear if you need me,” he said sternly.

  “Alright,” I answered, relieving my overly full bladder. Looking down, I didn’t recognize the shirt I was in. “Did you change me?” I asked.

  “No, Kass did,” he said pulling on what sounded like pants; well at least one of us was dressed. “Your clothing was brought over this morning and is being cleaned now.”

  I yawned. Why did everyone feel the need to wash my clothing? I got around to it enough. “Are there other clothing options if I shower?” I asked, flushing the toilet and washing my hands.

  “My wardrobe is at your disposal,” Blake answered, leaning against the doorframe in only a faded a pair of blue jeans. If I thought Tate had looked good, I would gladly eat those words for the beauty in front of me. Broad shoulders tapered into a well-defined stomach with two beautiful groves on his hips disappearing into the denim. He could unquestionably work part time as a WWF wrestler. I now needed a cold shower.

  Turning around, I opened the glass shower doors to start the shower.

  “Do you need any help?” Blake asked, clearly noting my previous interest.

  “I think I got it. You mind a little privacy?” I asked raising an eyebrow.

  “Don’t need it,” he answered.

  I sighed. Vampires were notorious for being the playboys of the undead world. Suave and powerful, they thrived on one conquest after the next.

  He must have sensed my mood shift. “You alright?” he asked concerned, reaching out to my shoulder.

  “Yep, just tired,” I answered, which was the truth. I was too tired to play his game, too tired to pretend I wasn’t in a miserably foul mood after what had happened. While we may have saved one group and killed an undead shifter, there was still a puppet master pulling the strings, and if he could raise one undead, I was certain he could raise another. It was just a matter of time.

  “I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me,” he said, turning and leaving. Well, that was unexpected but not unwelcomed.

  In the shower, I took stock of my injuries. Most of the slices had turned to just scratches, and, while they itched, I was able to walk without a horrendous limp. I was grateful they hadn’t tried to give me vamp blood. While vampires healed the quickest of the undead and for humans their blood was a powerful drug and remedy, for a succubus, it would heal any outward injury but the effects on our internal organs could potentially kill us.

  Shifters healed slower than vampires, but were equally dangerous in battle. What they lacked in vamp speed, they more than made up for in brute strength. I suppose it made sense that shifters were being reanimated. When vampires were killed, they turned to dust; there was nothing to reanimate. Humans would be too weak, and most of the other races of supernaturals tended to cremate their dead.

  Drying off, I recognized the clothing sitting on the toilet as the outfit
I had worn when Tate visited and unwelcomingly stayed the night. I certainly hoped they were clean. Towel drying my hair, I went into the bedroom to find Blake leafing through a file.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked with a knowing smile as my stomach announced its demands.

  “What do you have there?” I asked, curiosity putting my stomach on hold.

  He came around the bed, still a shirtless wonder, and propelled me towards the door. “Eat and then we can discuss what was found.”

  I had to climb down three levels of Blake’s monstrosity of a home and follow my nose to the overwhelming aromas to arrive at the kitchen, which I instantly fell in love with. I swear he copied a cooking show with his stainless steel appliances and large island; there were rich blue accents at places, but it was definitely a man’s kitchen, no hint of female involvement at all.

  I came in behind Jerry, eating at the island. He turned mid-bite to rush me in a hug. “Thank all that is holy, you’re alright.” Putting me at arm’s length, he scolded, “Don’t you ever take on an undead shifter again. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I shrugged out of his grasp, reaching for a grilled cheese sandwich. “What would you have me do? Sit by and watch it murder again?”

  “Olivia, do you have any idea how powerful they are?” Jerry asked.

  I sighed, saved from answering when Tate waltzed in. “Olie, good to see you up and about. Nice work with the undead shifter,” he said joining Jerry and me at the island.

  Jerry grumbled something under his breath. Much as I liked Jerry’s protective nature, fighting and killing things was what I did, a vital part of who I was.

  A heavyset dark-skinned woman entered the kitchen. From her attire, I assuming she was housekeeping. “You need something to drink?” she asked me.

  “Milk? I asked. While I would love a stiff drink, I didn’t think that would be in my body’s best interests.

  She delivered me the glass and a plate for my sandwich I had almost devoured, putting another on the plate. “Thanks,” I said with a smile between bites. Jerry and Tate continued to fight silently, trading looks and gestures that I was not paying attention to.

  At that moment, Mercer walked in the kitchen as well. “What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I be concerned?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Try again.”

  He pulled on his brown suit jacket. “There have been some major developments from Tate’s side of things you are going to want to see.”

  I nodded, picking up my sandwich to follow him. “You’re going to want to finish that,” he said.

  I greedily ate the last bites, chugging my milk, before following him to the second floor into a large conference room.

  Stacked upon the table, almost to my waist, was file after beautiful manila file pertaining to the case. “Finally,” I breathed, opening the first ones, grateful to understand what the hell was going on with these murders.

  I was lost in dates, facts, dollar amount, eyewitness accounts (not really sure how Gunner managed that), family history, medical information, schooling, employment, unemployment. I finally had to ask for a whiteboard to sort through everything. Mercer had already completed his own whiteboard and was waiting to see if I arrived at the same conclusions he did.

  The sun sank low in the sky and the moon shone before I realized I was starving again. Tracking downstairs, I was hoping for some additional grilled cheese; the clock above the stove read 2:30 a.m. While creatures of the night like me were still awake, the human help had probably turned in for the night. Unsuccessful in my search, I was taking inventory of the refrigerator when Blake walked in.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked now fully clothed in a light blue pullover that did painfully beautiful things to his dark hair and eyes.

  “Gold,” I answered with a shrug.

  He shook his head smiling. “Why do I bother?” he asked, coming around, he pulled out leftover pasta.

  “No meat?” he asked.

  “Correct,” I confirmed.

  He shook his head, pulling a white plate down, and dishing some out. It smelled amazing and my stomach growled yet again. He raised an eyebrow. “Really didn’t think Jerry was telling the truth about you being a vegetarian.”

  “Well he was,” I said, following the plate to the microwave where it couldn’t heat fast enough.

  Handing me a fork, Blake leaned against the island, watching me.

  “What?” I asked, still watching the plate turn round.

  He ran a hand over his face. “Nothing,” he said.

  I shrugged, finding my subconscious doing summersaults over all the information I had pumped in. There was one brilliantly bright obvious connection; all the children went to the same school. It just seemed too easy. The teenage boy who had defensive wounds and the teenage girl I helped to the other side went to the same school, same grade even. It was a bright obvious connection that my gut didn’t trust, or rather didn’t think that was the whole story. The art gallery was having a fundraiser for the very same Thurgood Marshall High School.

  Pouring over the financials had revealed a few items out of place, things that Gunner couldn’t run down and confirm. Once I finished my exhaustive list of items, I needed to track them down.

  Their medical history was sparse, and I couldn’t help feeling something was missing there as I chewed on the fork thoughtfully. Maybe they had a nurse at the school who could offer some assistance.

  I yawned and stretched when the microwave finally announced it was done with my food. Blake placed it on a placemat on the island and sat down next to me.

  “I think if I stare long enough, I will see the gears in your head turning,” he said, settling himself tiredly.

  I nodded. “Probably.” I devoured my plate and felt my own exhaustion settle in.

  “Where am I sleeping tonight?” I asked, rubbing my temples.

  “Same place as this morning,” he answered in a sultry voice, “my bedroom.”

  I raised an eyebrow at that. “Really? I would have thought you had a guest room or two in this insane mansion.”

  He smiled. “You like the place?” he asked.

  I gave him a dubious look. “Yeah it’s gorgeous, like you don’t know that?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t say I ever get tired of hearing it.”

  I smiled at him, setting my plate in the sink. “Bed?” I asked.

  He nodded, groaning. “But don’t tell anyone we went to bed this early. I do have an image to maintain,” he said, straightening out.

  I laughed. “The image of the master partier? Out till 6 a.m. with a different girl every night? I wouldn’t dream of ruining your game,” I said, making my way upstairs.

  “I know, I’m being domesticated now; different night with the same girl,” he said, following behind me.

  “How boring for you; I can always stay with Tate if you need to go sow your wild oats,” I said seriously.

  “Why? Do you want Tate to watch you?” he asked, slightly aggressive, jogging to come even with me on the stairs.

  “No, but I also don’t want to deal with a horny vamp,” I said, giving him a slight push teasingly.

  He leaned in close as we reached his door. “Care to help with that problem?”

  I smiled, forcing my eyes away from his perfectly formed mouth to his mischievous blue eyes. “Nope,” I said, entering his room ahead of him.

  Blake scooped me up with his lighting fast speed and strength, depositing me on the bed. I may have let out a schoolgirl squeal before I remembered myself.

  “Blake, get off,” I chided with a hint of laughter as he pinned my arms on the bed, that being the only contact between my overly warm body and his overly tempting broad-shoulder physique. I gave a half-hearted tug to free my wrists, fighting back a smile as Blake smiled mischievously down at me. My body warmed at the close contact and my heartbeat sped up. What was it about this vampire that sent my common sense off
the deep end?

  Leaning down, he gently brushed my nose with his own soft skin, whispering, “Don’t forget…” He shifted his attention to my mouth, the warmth from his breath increasing my breathing. “you…” My heartbeat increased. “owe…” His lips brushed the corner of my mouth as electricity shot straight to my groin. “me.”

  I closed my eyes, waiting for a kiss that never came. Instead, Blake moved off me, moving slowly and predatorily to the other side of the bed, undressing. I tracked him with my eyes rolling to my stomach, letting out a disgruntled sigh as he stripped out of his light blue sweater, revealing the hardened flesh underneath.

  “Olie,” he said, drawing my attention away from his god-like body. “If you continue to look and smell that way, I will lose my ability to control myself.”

  I smiled, walking with my knees on the bed to him. “Control is highly overrated,” I said with a wicked smile.

  His eyes glowed amber, exciting my already heated libido. “No,” he stated, turning away. “If you won’t stop, I will have to have someone else watch you. I will not put you in jeopardy with all that is happening.”

  I stopped short, settling my weight on my calves. “Oh,” was all I said. It had never occurred to me that Blake would be concerned about my mental status nor had it occurred to me that the monster hijacking my brain could and would do it during sex. Those thoughts instantly killed my frisky mood as I moved off the bed, feeling sick.

  Rejection never felt very good no matter what the reasons were. “Olie,” Blake said gently as I gathered my bed clothing keeping my back to him. I heard him move around the bed, gently touching my arm, turning me. “Olie, look at me.” I did, but I certainly didn’t like it. “It’s not for lack of wanting, but I would never forgive myself if my desires caused you pain or discomfort.” His blue eyes gleamed devilishly as he amended, “Except for the good pain.” He leaned in close and kissed my cheek lingering before pushing me towards the bathroom. “Go change.”

  I did as he said, taking care of my bathroom necessities, leaving the door cracked. When I came out, he was already in bed, reading a book. Sliding in next to him, I stayed on my side of the king bed, letting a deep sigh out as I slipped into sleep.