He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Well, you are a complete bitch most of the time.”
“Har de har har. Like I haven’t heard that before.”
Stan smirked.
“I don’t…” I studied my twisted hands on my lap. “I don’t have my wolf form anymore.”
“What?” Stan’s back straightened. “You can no longer shift?”
“Yeah, about that.” I took a deep breath. “This has to stay between us and your sergeant, okay?”
“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Stan waved his hand in the air as if it was no big deal.
“Seriously, Stan. No leaks.”
He leaned forward. “Shit, this has got to be good.”
“Good enough to land me in the SRD lab if you can’t keep your yap shut.”
Stan paused and pursed his lips. “I get it, Andy. You can trust me.”
“Like I could trust you to brief your fellow officers not to shoot me?”
Stan groaned and flopped back in his chair. “That wasn’t my fault. Dubin…er…the officer was a rookie and totally rattled. Those massacres were intense. He would’ve shot down a mosquito if one dared to fly near him.”
When the Demon, Bola, had found a loophole allowing him unrestricted use of a human form, he’d used his mortal realm “free time” to cause mass slaughter and mayhem. The VPD used me in wolf form to sniff out the massacre sites and when I’d shown up to one, an officer freaked out and shot me in the ass. My blood bond to Lucien at the time meant quick healing and only about thirty minutes of intense pain, but it still pissed me off. And Stan knew it.
Stan leaned forward in his seat again and clasped his hands together. “On my life, Andy, your secret is safe with me.”
The fragrance of his truthful statement flooded my senses and warmed my heart. I laced my fingers together. I whispered, “I have more than one form.”
“Huh?”
I glanced over my shoulder and leaned in. “I can take the shape of more than one animal.”
Stan’s eyebrows drew together and his mouth gaped open, giving me prime seating to study his snaggled teeth. “How’s that even possible? I took Supernaturals 101 as a prerequisite for the force. Shifters bond to one animal fera.”
I shrugged. I’d once believed my multiple forms made me special, but a meeting with Feradea, the goddess of beasts and hunters, taught me I was just a genetic throwback to her original demi-god offspring. Of course, Stan didn’t need to know any of that. Bad enough more and more people knew my shifting secret.
“Wow,” he said after a moment of silence. “You’re like a freak of nature.”
Relief flowed through my veins, and my shoulders drooped. “Thanks.”
He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “The SRD lab would like to get a hold of you, wouldn’t they?”
My muscles tensed.
Stan looked up, and his intense gaze met mine. “Wow, Andy, you really trust me.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
He nodded. The space around his desk grew quiet while we studied each other. Stan shifted in his seat. “You don’t want to hug this out or something, do you?”
I snorted.
He relaxed. After a silent moment, his expression quickly grew serious. “So you can’t shift into a wolf anymore?”
Technically, I could. All it took was reintegrating the wolf into my body to shift, in a semi-fluid transition, but the pain of having the wolf’s mind in my own…the wolf’s heart beating along with mine…the wolf’s wants…the wolf’s needs… I couldn’t take it, the pain of letting Wick go too fresh. Too raw. “No,” I answered. “I can’t.”
Stan peered at me. “Are you sick?”
“No. I just…” I sighed. How to explain this to a non-supe? “I got rid of the wolf because I chose not to be with Wick, the Alpha Werewolf.”
Stan’s lips compressed. “You supes are so…”
“Complex?”
“I was going to say fucked up, but sure, let’s run with that.” Stan tapped his fingers along his desk. “What other forms do you have? Can any of them sniff things out like your wolf?”
“My sense of smell is still heightened in human form and sufficient for most crime scenes, but yes, I have other forms with more than adequate noses.” Technically, the bear would be the best option, but I just couldn’t picture lumbering around the crime scene in the form of a two-hundred-and-fifty pound black bear.
“Could you elaborate?”
“On what?”
“On which forms.”
Mountain lion, falcon, wolf, bear, fox…and the beast. The latter, known in the supernatural community and historical documents as the Ualida, would be a bit overkill for most situations. Pun intended.
Stan’s death stare urged me to speak.
“I plan to use the mountain lion unless the situation calls for something else.” Although better than a human, mountain lions actually had a poor sense of smell, but the falcon had none to speak of whatsoever. My fox had a great nose, but like the falcon, the body of a fox was small and vulnerable. No way would I leave myself exposed like that at a crime scene. Well, not unless necessary.
“A mountain lion?” Stan sputtered.
“Yup.”
Stan peered at me. “You really could kick my ass, couldn’t you?”
“Well, probably, but one of your coworkers might take another pot shot at my butt, and that shit hurt.”
“Seriously, Andy. Will you let that go?”
“No.”
Stan sighed. “Fine. Will you do it?”
Of course I would. I needed a paying job. If the VPD had finally loosened up enough to bring on a supe, I wanted to be a part of it, even if it had taken them eighty years since the Purge. “What’s the pay?”
His gaze cut away.
Crap! Not much then.
“You’ll have to negotiate your salary or fee with Lafleur.” Stan said. “And I’m not sure how they run things over at the SRD, but you’d probably have to get approval from them, and maybe even a release.”
Well, that just proved not everyone in the city knew my business. True, moments ago I told Stan my biggest secret, and I’d tell him about the SRD, too, but I wanted to keep my termination under wraps until after I negotiated my salary with Lafleur. “I’ll have to leave my job,” I said. “That will factor into the figure I name.”
Stan shrugged. “Just remember, we’re all public servants at the end of the day and our provincial government dictates we get paid absolute crap for keeping order on the streets.”
My lips curled up. “How could I forget?” The face of the current premier of British Columbia had been plastered all over the news lately, projecting balanced budgets and a plan to support families and maintain a healthy, well-educated society. She may as well have thrown in world peace with her speech. Her lies stunk even through the television.
“Tony’s office is that one.” Stan waved his index finger in the direction over my right shoulder.
“Thanks,” I said.
“When you’ve reached an agreement, come back and we can get you on the schedule and put a system in place for a call out. You’ll be on rotation with me. I work a lot of night shifts.” He chortled.
I blinked.
“The night shift,” he repeated. “Get it? You’re a Shifter, we’ll work the night shift… Oh never mind.” Red creeped up his neck and stained his cheeks.
“Night Shift. Got it.” I gave him a salute, which I’m fairly sure I butchered, and chuckled my way to Lafleur’s office. My heart raced. I needed this job to stay in the Lower Mainland and close to Tristan.
Keep your cool, Andy. This is your only job prospect. Don’t muck it up. Negotiating a contract popped up pretty low on my “Things I like to do” list. People often said one thing, then did another. Wild animals were so much easier to deal with.
My mountain lion purred and rubbed against my brain. My falcon ruffled her feathers and sank her head down into her body for a snooze.
My chest hollowed out. No third response. No wolf lurking in my body to keep me straight and growl at people we didn’t like. I missed her. But she missed Wick too much for me to allow her cohabitation in my mind.
My mountain lion’s purr grew louder, as if trying to drown out the absence of the wolf, as if trying to distract my thoughts from thinking about the missing fera or Wick.
She had the right idea, and soon my mind tumbled into bed with Tristan and his piercing blue gaze framed with a dark mop of sleep-tussled hair.
I took a few deep breaths to settle my nerves before rapping my knuckles on Lafleur’s door.
“Come in,” he bellowed.
I opened the door and stuck my head in. “Stan brought me up to speed on the possibility of doing some work for you. I’m interested and would like to negotiate my salary. Is this a good time?”
Tony Lafleur grunted something that sounded like “yes” and “no” at the same time. I hesitated at the door, but when he didn’t yell at me to get out, I pulled back my shoulders and walked in. His office smelled like he did—gun oil and paper. A career cop, his steely blue eyes pierced mine, his shaved head reflected the fluorescent lights, his smushed in nose spoke of breaking up one-too-many bar fights, and his rotund belly gave credence to the cop stereotype of donut binging.
Despite his unsmiling face and rather brusque manner, I kind of liked the guy. Like I’d respect a drill-sergeant who’d make me do chin-ups until I puked.
His office was small, reflecting the exorbitant prices of downtown Vancouver real estate more than his significance. A small fan puttered away in the corner, creating a trickling breeze of pseudo-cool air, but did little to prevent my skin from warming. Lafleur sat behind a solid oak desk that would’ve looked nice, maybe, if it hadn’t been covered with teetering stacks of files and forms. Edges of the papers fluttered in the fanned air. A smooth large rock sat atop the pile as if to stop the papers from flying away in the flickering draft. File cabinets, with partially closed drawers, appeared laden with more files and history. Perspiration and determination clung to every surface illuminated by fluorescent lights.
I’d expected a clean, almost clinical room, devoid of character, something like Agent Booth’s office, when she had one, but this room spoke of a career cop who worked long hours and lived his job.
My respect for him shot up a notch.
Sergeant Lafleur waited for me to finish assessing his personal space. When I finally turned my attention to him and took in his deep set eyes and the large bags underneath them, he nodded at me. “Ambassador McNeilly.”
“Andy, is fine,” I said.
He grunted again, tapped something on his keyboard and then turned his full, unwavering gaze to me. “Before we negotiate your fee, are there any factors you’d like to bring forward that will influence your decision?”
Well, straight to the point. My kind of guy. “I won’t be able to work as an ambassador or as an agent with the SRD if I take this position. My fee should cover full pay, not something you’d consider a top up. I also want to be on salary, with benefits, not paid as an on-call contractor or consultant. I want to go all in. Join the team.” Not a lie at all, really. I couldn’t work for the Vampires or the SRD because they’d both fired me.
He clasped his hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Are you sure you want to burn that bridge?”
“Have you met Agent Tucker?”
Tony guffawed, a bark of a laugh that rumbled from his belly. My respect for him automatically went up two more notches.
“Well, I s’pose I won’t have to worry about your allegiance to the SRD. What about the Vampires?” Lafleur asked.
I fixed him with my best death stare. It didn’t faze him at all.
“Will there be any backlash from them?” he pressed on.
It sounded like he genuinely cared about my well-being. Or maybe he worried about political ramifications. After all, I hadn’t heard of this arrangement before. Maybe it had been more than prejudice preventing the VPD from knowingly hiring a supe.
“No backlash. With Lucien dead, they’d have to re-establish the relationship with my approval anyway.” Feradea would be proud of my choice of words. If a Shifter or Were had been sitting beside me, they’d sniff the truth of my words.
“Name a figure,” Lafleur said.
My momentary confidence faltered. My skin grew clammy as the stuffy room continued to warm my body. Crap. I hated naming a price. If he accepted the figure too easily, I’d know I could’ve asked for more. If I went too high, Sergeant Tony Lafleur might dismiss me altogether and find someone else. I kept my face passive, closed off from my emotions and thoughts. It would do no good to show Lafleur how much I wanted this. “I’m open to negotiation.”
Lafleur paused and studied me for a half-second. “Cut the horseshit, McNeilly. Give me a number, and we’ll work from there.”
Gah! Sweat beaded along my nose and back as I forced my body to remain loose and my lips uncurled. “What about a salary equal to my average earnings as an agent with the SRD?”
Lafleur drummed his fingers on his desk. “And that would be…”
“Around a hundred thousand a year, but I’ll accept eighty-five thousand a year, with benefits, holiday pay…the whole shabaam.” I would make a lot more as a freelance assassin, but that kind of work led down a dark path.
“Fifty-five and you pay for your own crap. We don’t have the advantage of accepting private funding like the SRD.”
He said “private funding” with a dark, clipped tone, and with an expression somewhere between a sneer and a grimace. He may as well have said, “Bribes.” Interesting.
My face scrunched up. No point in hiding my reaction to this statement. “I wasn’t aware the SRD benefitted from private funding. Don’t both organizations fall under the government?”
Lafleur’s fingers stopped tapping, and he fixed me with his steely gaze. “Let’s get one thing straight, McNeilly. The SRD is corrupt. If you’re going to join us at the VPD, I will not tolerate any rose-tinted glasses, if you catch what I’m throwing.”
“Gotcha.” I held my hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m no fan of the SRD. I just didn’t realize the extent of the situation.” More reason to hate them.
Lafleur grunted. “Fifty-five to start and you’re on one-year probation like all new recruits. Then you’ll go to sixty. No benefits. You’ll work regular shifts with Stan, and I’ll need an updated resume and a recent criminal record check. Luckily, your SRD training is transferable and replaces the police academy requirement. You’re essentially a transfer, but you’re starting at the bottom, and we need to make this legit.”
“What you said, with benefits. If this is going to be legit, I want what everyone else on the team has.”
He grumbled, and his fingers started to drone on his desk again. “Deal,” he barked. He straightened to his feet, and his hand snapped out in front of him.
I scrambled to my feet and shook his hand. “Deal,” I said.
His hand clasped mine firmly and gave it a tight squeeze before he nodded. “Go see Stan and get caught up with our current investigation. I’ll get someone to drop off the paperwork to you soon. Welcome to the team.”
“Okay, thanks.” My heart picked up the pace as if I ran a sprint. I needed to get out of here before he changed his mind. I turned and walked to the door.
“And Andy?”
I paused with a hand on the doorknob. Crap. I swallowed before speaking. “Yeah?”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
Chapter Six
“You don’t love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.”
~Oscar Wilde
Two warm sapphires framed with porcelain skin and dark hair studied me from across the small dining table in my apartment. The dying smells of a fading summer seeped in with the coldness of the early fall, but did little to dampen the heat stirring within. Two refil
led wine glasses, plates with half-eaten chicken breasts, and various cutlery covered the table. I wanted to shove everything out of the way and launch myself at Tristan, but reached for the wine instead.
Tristan smiled as if he read my inner turmoil, his cheeks dimpled and his white teeth flashed. “So, you’re once again employed. I worried you’d go independent.”
I choked on my wine. I bubbled down my throat with pockets of air and left it raw. What did Tristan mean by that? He’d been so calm through all my worries, which helped keep me grounded. His worry rated at the same level as my calm. I swallowed another mouthful of sweet wine. “What would you have done?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I’d gone independent, would it have changed things for you?”
Tristan frowned. “Of course not. I would’ve offered you a job with my company.” He tilted his head. “But I suspect you would’ve refused me.”
Got that right. My boyfriend as my boss? No, thank you.
“Even if you went independent and down that dark path, I’d be right beside you the entire way.”
“I didn’t want that option either. I’d rather go for an office job.” A shudder spread through my body. Office job? Well, it beat the alternative. An independent contractor essentially meant a thug for hire. Plenty of ex-SRD agents went that way. What else could they do with their narrow skill set and less-than-average social skills? After slowly finding my humanity, a process that took over fifteen years from the time I walked out of the forest, the last thing I wanted to do was take a step back. De-evolution was so not my thing.
“I can’t picture you in an office,” Tristan said.
“No?”
“No.” His lips twitched. “In a library, on the other hand… I can picture you with your hair up in a tight bun, wearing dark-rimmed glasses and giving me a death stare to be quiet.”
“Hah!” I took a sip. “I wouldn’t give you a death stare.”
Tristan picked up his wine, reclining back in his chair. “You’re right. You’d give me something much better.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“The same come-hither naughty librarian look you just gave me a moment ago.”
Shift Work (Carus #4) Page 4
