Dead Shifter Walking

by Kim Schubert

  Chapter 9

  It was dark and cold; I wasn’t breathing, yet I wasn’t scared either. I knew this place, knew these sensations; I had stayed here a long time before moving on. I had stayed to watch my pack to be sure they were safe and guarded. This time, I had been called back, summoned from the Beyond by a great evil.

  I sucked in a breath as the scene unfolded before me. The darkened woods felt old and alive as the wind disturbing the tree branches with a voice I could almost hear if I stayed ever so still. I couldn’t feel the warmth of the fire, casting shadows into the small clearing, nor could I hear the person in front of me or make out any form other than a thick shadowy blob of pure hatred.

  Turning to my left, I saw the hazy outline of a lion, his head reaching to my shoulder. A slow throbbing began and the lion gained clarity and structure, turning to look at me with eerie caramel eyes, flecked with darker hints of brown. His mane darkened into blackness, while his body was striped with black and light-brown fur. Unafraid, I brushed my hand over the softness of his fur, letting my hand settle on his back.

  “It is evil,” he rumbled.

  I nodded, removing my hand and turning back towards the darkness in front of me. While the forest contained its own magic, the darkness from the blob radiated evil, death, and decay. I was scared.

  “Can you see him?” I whispered.

  The lion shook his head; the movement transferring to his shoulders as a man stood next to me with the same caramel colored eyes and light brown hair. His nakedness didn’t offend or excite me; it was as though all my emotions had been removed, even to my own senses.

  The man turned to the blob, shaking his head and his shoulder-length hair, dipping to hide his face as he lowered his head, growling softly.

  “You must stop him,” he commanded.

  I nodded. “I will always try.”

  He looked at me sharply. “That is why the other called to you and why I must do the same.” He turned his attention to the shadowy figure, the muscles in his jaw flexing menacingly. “I can only fight for so long; he will claim me like the rest. You are my only hope, Executioner.” He said my title with authority and I felt the binding form between us.

  He turned towards me and I nodded, feeling his pain as he tipped his massive head back roaring at the pitch-black night sky.

  “Who are you?” I asked, softly afraid of breaking the spell.

  He turned towards me, his jaw clenched, red rimming those beautiful caramel depths as he lost the fight for control. I noticed the long scar from his shoulder to stomach, the slash on his throat, which still looked raw, and the tattoo of a lion baring his teeth on his right thigh.

  Suddenly he reached out, clamping his powerful hands to my upper arms. Instantly, I felt the tug that was ripping away pieces of his soul. He had suffered in silence I noted dimly as a scream of pure pain ripped through my throat, leaving me breathless as I looked back into his eyes, feeling the struggle to regain his identity.

  I clamped my own hands on his upper arm as well. “Fight it,” I hissed through my clenched teeth, focusing on braiding the pain. But I couldn’t; it wasn’t mine, and, while I understood he needed me to feel it, I couldn’t control it.

  “Do not let him win,” I hissed, trying to push my strength into him. It bounced back as his black pupils turned red, spreading the color into his entire eye socket.

  I felt him slipping, watching only the hazy form I had seen at first return as his eyes went blood red, and I was holding onto air.

  From the fire pit, I heard the roar as my blood ran cold and my heart stopped beating. The lion returned to life as the walking dead, his eyes hollow red orbs. His voice echoed inside of me as he lost all control and belonged to the evil being in front of me. My breathing was ragged and my tears fell heavily as I tried to force my way to the blob. Screaming, I clawed the air, unable to move, unable to manipulate anything, but fighting nevertheless.

  In slow motion, the blob turned blood-red eyes toward me, looking for some cause of the disturbance I was creating, but finding nothing, it smiled an evil toothy grin and turned back to his latest conquest.

  I was slammed back into my body, drawing a shuddering breath, finding Blake latched onto my wrist as Tate was pinning me down.

  Lifting my head, my eyes made contact with Blake’s as he released my wrist, closing the bite marks. I was on the ground in Blake’s room, watching him pant, which was odd for a vampire.

  Tate had deep cuts on his face that were healing as he moved off me.

  “What the fuck was that?” Tate asked, touching his face gingerly.

  I shuddered as I remembered. “I was wrong,” I said, my voice scratchy from what must have been screaming. “It’s not the killer who’s contacting me; it’s the shifters.” I sat up, noticing my shirt was drenched in sweat.

  Touching my face, I found my tears were real as I blew out a shaky breath, sitting up. “It was awful,” I said, shaking my head and trying to get my emotions in check. “I need to talk with Logan. I’m hoping he will be able to identify the shifter I saw reanimated.”

  Blake moved into my line of vision. “Olivia, biting you isn’t breaking the bond anymore, neither is hitting you.” He settled back on his heels. “Cutting you was next on our list.”

  I nodded. “The one he called was more powerful than the others. I think whoever is calling them is gaining strength.”

  Blake touched my face. “We cannot protect you anymore.”

  I laced my fingers with his. “I understand,” I said, nodding and pulling myself up on shaky legs.

  Tate supported me to the bed, sitting next to me, his silence unnerving as he and Blake traded a look. Blake crossed his arms, standing in front of me.

  “Olivia,” Tate began. “You stopped breathing.”

  I nodded as he continued, “Is this really worth your life?”

  Shocked, I turned to Tate, saying, “Innocent people are dying, families are being eliminated all because of some psycho’s belief that he’s the ruling life form. Yes, it is unequivocally worth my life.” I finished feeling steadier. Softening my voice, I continued, “If you and Blake no longer wish to help, since it’s a shifter matter, I understand.” I looked at Blake. Vampires and shifters could exist peacefully; they just typically didn’t. Neither was overly joyous to help the other.

  Tate sighed, a very human action, and I returned my attention to him. “I’ll have to speak with Morgan,” he said.

  I nodded as he moved away, dialing his phone.

  “Regardless of the decision, I want you to stay here, Olivia,” Blake said, regarding me with no humor.

  “Are you sure it’s worth it?” I asked, mirroring Tate’s questions with dismal humor.

  “You’re worth it,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I nodded, giving him a slight smile, feeling a little off balance by his words.

  “I’m going to shower,” I said, standing up.

  Blake nodded, walking me to the bathroom and firmly closing the door behind me. Undressing, I slipped into the hot water, letting my tears flow as the heat seared my body.

  When I finally emerged from the steam, I found the room empty. Dressing quickly in jeans and a royal blue shirt, I texted Jerry, stating I needed to talk to him.

  He responded that he was already downstairs. Glowering at my phone, I raced to the conference room, finding it deserted. Next, I tried the kitchen, which had donuts and toast that I greedily scarfed, but still no Jerry.

  I was rounding a corner when I heard voices, which I followed to a formal-living room.

  Tate, Morgan, and Blake were perched on a couch together, while across the room, Darren and a man I assumed was Logan were looking equally uncomfortable. Jerry and Mark were leaning against the doorframe as I entered.

  “Olie!” Jerry exclaimed, embracing me in a hug.

  “I’m okay, Jerry,” I said, pulling back, noticing his sleep-deprived worry. “I need your help, though; I need all information on how th
e undead can contact the Executioner. I’m hoping Grams has some information on that.”

  He nodded, heading out, opening his phone. Mark touched my back and I turned toward him. “Glad you’re in once piece,” he said and I gave him a small smile before he followed Jerry out.

  I turned to the rest, hands on my hips, ready to give a hard-ass-play-nice speech, when my gaze locked on Logan and all the air left my lungs.

  I stood there, feeling my heart pounding painfully in my chest before I was able to think about speaking. “How is this possible?” I whispered, shaking my head and clenching my eyes closed, certain I was imagining it.

  Again, I looked at him, and he stood dressed in a navy business suite and matching light blue shirt. He took a step away from the couch towards me, mildly uncomfortable as he extended his hand. “Olivia, I’m Logan. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” I ignored his comment and his hand, stepping into his personal space, inhaling the soft scent of the woodlands as I tipped his chin up, checking his neck for the raw scar in my dream.

  Touching his unblemished neck, I dimly noted that Blake had stood a, restraining hand from Tate, keeping him from intervening.

  Logan’s skin was warm against my chilled fingers as I backed away from him, wrapping my arms around my waist. Blake sat back down as I blew out a breath.

  My heart thudded in my chest as I pulled another breath in, deeply gathering my thoughts. “Who do you look like?” I asked softly.

  Logan spared a glance to Darren behind him, shifting his weight uncertainly and stowing his hands in his pockets.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to sound a little less crazy. “Who do you look like that is dead?” I asked again.

  Logan replied stiffly, “My grandfather.”

  I nodded.

  “Olivia,” Morgan stated leisurely, positioning against the side of the plush couch, “we haven’t brought him up to date yet.”

  I scowled, about to smart off, when Morgan continued, “We were just discussing the debt his fiancé owes.”

  “Morgan,” I said, my voice deadly low, “I took that debt.”

  “Did you now?” he said, examining his cuticles, feigning disinterest.

  It was not a good day for Morgan to play games with me. After that dream and between the deaths I had been witnessing thrown together with not having killed anything in over a week, he was treading on very thin ice.

  I ground my teeth. “You are testing my self-control,” I warned.

  Darren looked properly worried, sitting forward. “Olie, what happened?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

  Blake answered for me, this power play pushing my last nerves. “She dreamt of the killer reanimating a shifter who apparently might be your grandfather.”

  I blew out a breath, looking back to Logan and the eerie similarities between him and his grandfather. His expression was guarded, as he sat next to Darren and regarding me warily “Why did you check my neck?” he asked softly. While he was playing the same power games as the vamps, I didn’t doubt he could take out a master vampire for a second. One doesn’t acquire power in our world without being able to kill one’s enemies.

  “He had a slash,” I said, my eyes clouding with memories, “a scar across his chest, and a lion tattoo on his thigh.” I ended, blinking back to the scene before me: vampire and shifter pitted against each other.

  Logan shared a look with Darren before pulling out his cell phone and texting. Texting was smarter than an actual conversation as the vamps would be able to hear both sides of the conversation.

  Looking back to me, setting his phone back in his jacket pocked, he nodded. “I’ll have someone check his grave site.”

  A shudder raked through my body as I remembered how ancient the trees were. “We need to know who knew about the site, as well; from what I saw, it had magic of its own that was violated.”

  Logan looked at me, surprised. I shrugged before turning as Jerry came in flustered, looking to the shifter and vampire annoyances behind me.

  “You’re not going to like this,” Jerry stated.

  “Worse than the pissing contest behind me?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

  Morgan cleared his throat, a pointless act, since he didn’t breathe, while Darren coughed, covering up the unexpected laugh at my comment.

  Jerry glanced at the men behind me, uncertainty flashing on his features, adjusting his tie nervously, before he composed himself and his dark eyes returned to my own. “This might be better outside.” I nodded, following him out. Jerry, wise to the ways of vampire and shifter hearing, texted the information to my phone.

  The executioner can be called upon when there is corruption or deceit in the dead’s own race, they will reach out to the executioner in an attempt to right the wrong done to them.

  I stared into Jerry’s dark depths, a sinking feeling nestling in my chest. I turned back into the room. The vampires were staring daggers at the two shifters who had their attention on me. Although it was reassuring to know that leaving my blood on the street after the hit and run, while stupid, was not the cause of this current turmoil. I now had to deal with corruption in the packs, which is not my job description. Rubbing my temples I sighed, it didn’t matter, I needed to get whoever it was off the streets and end the killing.

  “Logan, we really need that list, please,” I said softly, not liking the tension in the room.

  “Blake,” I started equally as soft, “can you give me a lift?”

  Blake spared a look at the vampires on either side of him before answering, “Gladly.”

  I nodded. “Jerry, get Logan and Darren home safely and get that list to me ASAP,” I said, deleting Jerry’s text and striding to the kitchen for more food.

  I turned, stuffing another donut into my mouth to find Blake and Logan behind me, each looking slightly uncomfortable.

  “What?” I asked ungraciously around a mouthful.

  Blake’s light blue eyes met my own, annoyed, before I turned to Logan’s caramel-colored eyes with a raised eyebrow. He took a deep breath before beginning.

  “Can you please tell me what happened at Flame?” Logan said peacefully, settling on a bar stool next to me. His body language screaming repressed anger.

  I took another look at Blake, who shrugged, moving behind me to the kitchen cabinets.

  I swallowed my bite, my mouth feeling uncomfortably dry. I pinched the bridge of my nose before adjusting on the island stool. I did not want to have this conversation. I am a fantastic killer, but I am horrible at tact.

  “Logan,” I said, speaking his name as I drew my eyes back to his, “are you certain you want the truth? I don’t sugar coat.”

  “I didn’t ask you to sugar coat it,” he demanded. “I asked you politely to tell me what happened. I fail to see the difficulty in that request.”

  I turned, holding my donut up as I stood. “You are so painfully correct.” Turning to Blake, I grinned evilly from ear to ear. “Blake, darling, would you be so kind as to tell him in detail how his fiancé broke supernatural rules.”

  Blake smiled, grinning widely, his fangs descended. “I would be honored, Olivia.”

  Blake came around, resting his hands on my shoulders as he brushed a delicate kiss against my cheekbone. With a sinking feeling, I belatedly realized this may not have been my best idea, but the demand for revenge in my chest pushed that nagging conscience away.

  Logan nodded, shifting his weight in his seat, attempting to contain the frustration twitching in his jaw.

  Blake began with what I was certain was a devilish grin as I moved to get a drink of milk.

  “Lorraine was divine, dancing seductively…” I let Blake’s voice trail out of my consciousness, not wanting to hear how alluring he found Logan’s fiancé. Not that it mattered; hopefully there would be nothing but mind-blowing sex happening between us.

  Heaving a sigh, I turned around as Logan’s jaw began ticking as Blake described the orgasmic experience of taking her blood. I had to admit, he was a
great storyteller.

  Logan closed his eyes, clenching his fists. “I wasn’t aware,” he said, meeting my own eyes again.

  I grimaced with understanding; a painful truth was better from someone you cared about than someone who would use it as a point of contention. I could subdue his anger, braid it down, even absorb it; but just because I had the ability, didn’t mean I needed to exercise it on him.

  “While we are on the subject of truths, fair warning: Steven and I have a few issues to work out,” I said, taking another bite of doughnut.

  Logan’s shoulders readjusted as he also reached for one. “I heard,” he said.

  I smiled. Chocolate frosting dotting my teeth. “Enjoy fishing your SUV from the river?”

  Logan chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe I didn’t hear about this.”

  Raising an eyebrow, I continued around my next chocolate-covered sprinkled bite. “You didn’t know he tried to take me out in a T-bone accident?”

  Logan ate the rest of his plain doughnut in one bite before answering angrily, “No.”

  “Well, you know now,” I said, raising my glass of milk at him in a mock toast. “I will deal with him; it’s personal now.”

  He nodded. “Can I ask a favor, Olivia?”

  I raised an eyebrow, finishing off my milk. “You do mean another favor, correct?” I said with a smile to lessen the insult.

  He raked a hand through his hair, similar to Darren. “Yes, another. Let me deal with Steven.”

  I groaned, picking up another doughnut. “That’s asking too much,” I said to the island, startling him by turning back quickly, doughnut forgotten. “On one condition.”

  He nodded, and I leaned in close.

  “No more grief to Kass and Darren, and I won’t kill Steven,” I stated, leaving out I reserved the right to beat the everlasting hell out of him.

  His eyes darkened before returning to their normal color. He stood, adjusting his suit jacket, shaking his head. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.” He hesitated, leaning closer to me. “You don’t understand what you have asked of me thus far.”