Shifting Problems (Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series Book 1)

by Jason Paul Rice

  I stood still and she crept forward, her pink slippers sliding along the dirt path. I asked calmly, “What’s in the box?”

  She began to shake even more. “None of your business. None of anybody’s business, for that matter. We’re good people. We just got mixed up with some—people we shouldn’t have. Why are you here? They said that box would be destroyed.”

  “They? Who have you talked to?”

  She shook her head. “I asked you a question first.”

  “Here’s how this is going to work. I’ll answer your question and then you’ll do the same for me, deal?”

  She smiled, and I thought we might have an agreement. She said, “Seeing as to how I’m holding this gun. I’ll answer what I want to and nothing more. Deal?”

  She had an inarguable point, and right now, I’ll take what I can get. “I’m a detective as you found out earlier. I investigate things. Need I say more?”

  Her brief smile disappeared. “Liar. They know you, you know?”

  “Who is they?”

  She chuckled, laughing at me. “Oh, you stupid little boy. They are going to kill you so easily.”

  I didn’t have to take this. If I wanted to be abused like this, I would go home and let Alayna tear into me.

  I needed to be delicate. “Just give me a hint of who they are?”

  “I’m a good person, okay?” she said, and tears broke out of her ducts.

  I enthusiastically agreed. “Yes, sure, okay.” Now please put down the weapon.

  She lowered the gun and my clenched bowels thanked her for the courtesy. Her lips smashed together and her face wrinkled in the dark as she tried to put her words together. “We used to go to parties. They started out just as, you know, orgies and just wild sex parties.” She suddenly spoke like a valley girl. I waited for her to start twirling her hair, but alas, both hands were still glued to that pistol. “It was, just, just, for fun, you know. Pittsburgh can be so boring. Then they started to take a dark turn. Some of the stuff people were doing was kind of weird. It wasn’t Darren’s fault, I swear.”

  “I understand.”

  She took one hand off the gun and it dangled by her thigh, pointing down. “He was a good guy. Showed up for work every day. Never hit me once. He just liked the power it gave him. Then it became, like a drug. He didn’t even go to the parties for the sex anymore. It was just to trade secrets with the McNights. Oh shit, I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve got to go. Right now.”

  I had a feeling that I could get that gun from her, but I would have to hit her, and I would never hit a woman. Demons of the female variety were another story. “If I could just take this box with me, I can make sure no one gets hurt. If I don’t, you could be in a lot of danger.”

  She laughed. It was a forced laugh. “I’m pretty much a dead woman standing right now. I’m trying to do everything they say to stay alive, but they’re ruthless. I’ve seen and heard things that they have done. Just look at what my boyfriend did. They control him.”

  “If I could talk to you for a moment about that.”

  She shook her head as she used her free hand to wipe away some tears. “No. No. He was a good guy. It was all them. They got him hooked. They did all this. Now let’s go. I’m walking you around front so you can get to your car or call for a ride. I’m going to watch you, and if you come back into my yard, I will shoot you.”

  She was true to her word and even let me use her internet to get an Uber. A pink smart car pulled up and I groaned, even though I was relieved it wasn’t Speedy Gonzalez again. I got in and said hello to a tiny woman who was sitting on a thick cushion so that she could see over the steering wheel. Just my luck. I really should start checking out the cars and drivers first before hitting first available.

  I confused the hell out of her when I took her on a circuitous tour around the neighborhood until I found the street I needed. I had her wait for me, and got out of the car. I had floated the idea of greasing the driver with an extra Andrew Jackson to help me carry the heavy object, but the older woman didn’t look up to the task.

  I took the back way into the communal woods in the middle of a bunch of houses. The firelight had nearly burned out, but I located the Dank Artistry box in the same spot. I carried the box until it became too heavy and then I dragged it by the leather handle the rest of the way to the car. I had to jam myself into the car and put the box onto my lap. I struggled to get the door shut. Damn smart cars.

  The box and I made it home about twelve minutes later. I signed for the ride and thanked the driver for obliging my unusual requests before dragging the box up to the door. I shoved my key into the slot and someone’s voice scared the beejezus out of me.

  Alayna said, “You got it.”

  She followed me in and my heart started to pound. I had a pretty good feeling this wouldn’t go over too well. “I figured maybe we should open it together.” I tried to soften her up.

  “My word, look at you,” she said, pulling at my torn apart clothing. She touched the cut on my belly and I jumped back from the sting. “What happened?”

  “I got into a little fight. With a demon.” I mumbled the last sentence.

  “What?” she asked, staring at the paw cuts on my face.

  “Yeah. A Manticore. He acted like a chameleon too, blending in with the background and surroundings using safe circles with rune markers. I held my own, though.”

  She looked over me with genuine concern. I figured now was the best time to gently broach the subject. I said, “Oh, there is just one more thing.”

  She stared at me in silence, her eyelids narrowing. My voice cracked like a teen boy’s as I spoke. “That was the shirt I was wearing earlier today.”

  Her lips curled downward and didn’t seem like they were going to stop. “So, you’re saying that a top-shelf Manticore from the Red Cavern has some of my body fluid.”

  “They were just dried tears. If it makes you feel any better, he’s got some of my blood.”

  “That does not make me feel better. I told you to be careful.”

  “You told me to be careful when I opened the box. See I still haven’t done that yet. Come on, let’s open it together. I was waiting for you.”

  She turned around and pulled my door. She kicked open the screen, and looked over her shoulder. “Open it yourself. In fact, you’re going to be doing a lot of things on your own starting now. I want this month and last month’s rent by November 1st or you’re out of here. No fooling around this time. You screwed up, Mike, you screwed up bigtime.”

  She walked out, flung the screen door closed, crossed Freeport Road and walked behind a stopped bus. The driver closed the door and the bus cruised away. Alayna had disappeared.

  Hell of a day, Micheal. I’m not sure if I had made anything better. I knew I had made a lot of things worse for some people. And I was all set to brag about surviving a scrap with a demon. I wondered if Reginald was awake. He loved when I talked about magic.

  I raided the empty refrigerator and threw together a salami and American cheese sandwich with some horseradish mustard that I hoped hadn’t expired. I didn’t check the date in fear of what I might see before I quickly put it back in my fridge. Ignorance was truly bliss. It smelled spicy, passing the rigorous quality check.

  I went to see what my other best friend was up to and knocked on my neighbor’s door.

  Ronald answered the door. I asked, “Is your dad home?”

  The short, dark-skinned man pushed the thick black rimmed glasses up on his nose, “Stop knocking so damn loud. I think he’s asleep anyway.”

  “Ronald, I can hear the dumbbells clanging together back there. He’s working out.”

  “Yeah, and if he comes over to your house until all hours of the night, I’ve got to deal with him when he comes home all drunk. You two have all the fun and leave me to clean up the shit. Literally.”

  “Man, whatever. Reg. What’s up?” I yelled.

  Reg wheeled out into the living room. He wasn’t
wearing a shirt from the work out and his huge ebony shoulders and arms glistened from the sweat. He toweled off the freckled area around his nose, and said, “You get into a fight or something?”

  I nodded. “I might need my doctor.”

  Reginald Danforth had been a MASH doctor in the Vietnam War. When the alarm siren had gone off to evacuate the operating room, Reg had a choice to make: finish the surgery or run for safety. He had stayed and his noble action caused him to lose the use of his legs during the bombing. He said, “Let me get cleaned up a little bit and I’ll meet you out there.”

  “I’ll be on the front porch, and you don’t need to bathe in Old Spice this time.”

  Reg came out onto the porch about five minutes later and it smelled like he had completely disregarded my advice about the cologne. I could almost taste the old man scent as I helped Reg get his wheel chair into my house. He immediately zeroed in on the box on my coffee table.

  “I’m getting a weird vibe from that thing,” Reg said, pointing at the box. He ran his fingers through his black hair with dark gray streaks, starting at his temples and continuing to the back of his head.

  I warned him, “Don’t touch that thing. You need your doctor’s juice?”

  Reg’s brown eyes with golden flecks lit up. “I’m not going to turn that down. I’ll need it anyway.” He held up a shaky hand.

  I went into the kitchen and poured two rocks glasses of Jameson Irish Whiskey. I walked back into my living room and handed my doctor his glass to calm his nerves for the surgery.

  “Let me get a closer look here before we bust out the stitches.”

  He inspected my face for about a solid minute. “This actually isn’t that bad. Just need some medical tape to hold the cut together.”

  “I got one on my stomach too, if you can check it out,” I requested, as I walked into the kitchen to get more rags to soak up the blood.

  I took off my layers of shirts, rolled them in one big ball, and threw the cotton mess onto the loveseat.

  Reg said, “That doesn’t look too good from the start.” He poured some antiseptic on the rag and dabbed at the wound. He cleaned the blood away and stared intently at my belly. “Think you might be lucky, stitch wise, on this one too. You should probably avoid anything athletic for a week or two or it might rip open again. Tell you what, I’ll take another look at it tomorrow, but I don’t think you need sewn up tonight.”

  Reg treated the wounds with some antiseptic, applied the gauze and medical tape to the gashes as he sipped on his glass of whiskey. I told him about the fight with a Manticore, the demonic box, the magic mist and the shifter murder from earlier today. I grabbed his empty glass from his hand. “Refill?”

  Reg put his hands up. “I think I should get home. Ronald’s going to throw a fit if I come home late and drunk again. Ha ha.” Reginald finished with his signature booming laugh.

  “You know I’m going to smack your punk ass son in the mouth one night, right?”

  “Man, don’t do that. That’s all I need to have you two going at it more than you already do. I know you think he’s a punk, but he does help me out a lot.”

  I hadn’t had the heart to tell Reg that I’d overheard his son talking about him. Word to the wise, if you live near a wizard, whisper softly. I’d heard Ronald talking on the phone about how he wished that Reginald would just die already so he could get his inheritance and be done with taking care of his father. I’d almost kicked down the door and beaten his ass on the spot.

  “I guess. I just think he should be more appreciative of you, like you are with him. Letting him live here for free and everything. Letting him use your car. You should get back out on the scene with the ladies and leave his ass behind. You ever think about getting back out there?”

  Reg’s face twisted, considering the question. “Think about it. Sure do. But what do I have to offer? Hey, you want to come take care of me and help me get around.”

  “Don’t think like that. Who cares about that shit? I help you here and there and I don’t care because I get to hang out with you. I’m sure there’s some classy women out there that feel the same.”

  Reg said, “Yeah, you do think like a girl. Ha ha.” He always had a knack for breaking emotional tension.

  “Think about it, my friend. You deserve it,” I told him.

  “I get your point, young blood, but I got to get going now. Can you help me get back?”

  “Of course.” I helped Reg get around the stupid divide between our two houses. We had to dip down on the steps and then I pushed the chair back up onto his porch. I went back inside and collapsed on the couch.

  What a day! There’s a murderous shifter on the loose, who might be controlled by the devils or demi-devils. The McNights are somehow involved with recruiting shifters it would seem through some sort of sex club. The Red Cavern is also involved, sending a Manticore to make sure the box was burned.

  I looked at it on my coffee table and didn’t have the guts to open the magical case. Not yet, at least. I really wanted Alayna to be there when it happened. So I had this mysterious box, but it had put my life and my mentor’s in immediate danger. I was on a mission to put everything together before the shifter struck again. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

  6

  I woke up to six Unread text messages from Gretchen Meyer and looked at the first one.

  Wake up. 19 More like yesterday.

  I called her and put the phone next to my face. Gretchen’s voice came through the other end, scratchy and tired, “Merlino.” She had never called me by my last name.

  “Yes.”

  “Nineteen more shifter murders last night. Grab an energy bar and get your ass out to the curb. I’m waiting.”

  I hung up and looked out the window at Gretchen’s Cherokee parked along the restricted yellow curb. I threw some clothes on and went to run out the front door when the box caught my eye. It sat so innocently on the coffee table, but I knew otherwise.

  I lugged it into the attic, which was a major chore, and hid it under the loose floorboards. I closed the semi-secret door on my way out. I ignored Gretchen’s honking and walked outside. Reginald was sitting outside on his porch so I went over and shook his hand.

  “What kind of stuff are you getting into today, Mike?” he asked excitedly.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Unfortunately, a lot more of the same from yesterday. I don’t really have time to ta…”

  Gretchen laid on the horn. I shot her the bird and turned back to Reginald. “I’ll have to catch up with you later tonight. I’ll knock if I don’t get back too late. We’ll have lots more to talk about by then I’m sure.”

  “Sounds good, young buck. Let’s make momma proud now.”

  I swallowed the developing lump in my throat, fought back tears, and shook his hand again. Reginald regularly talked to me about my mom. Next to Alayna, he was probably my best friend. My duties kept me so busy that a social life was nearly impossible, let alone a girlfriend. I figured I would pay my dues for a few years, stash away some money, and then move into that scene.

  I crossed the street, avoiding the early morning traffic, and jumped into Gretchen’s car. She looked worse than she had sounded on the phone earlier.

  “Do you know any details on this one?” I asked.

  She almost pulled out into a green Chevy Impala but jammed on the breaks at the last second. I tugged my seatbelt to make sure it was secured. She spoke in a gruff tone, “Extremely similar to yesterday, but this one ramps it up a bit.”

  “How so?” I pressed the button to crack the window and get some of that fresh October air into the vehicle.

  “There were nineteen shifter murders early in the morning between about six and seven o’clock. We’re talking CEOs of big companies and high-profile people. They all resemble yesterday, although a few involved normal working people. Man in suit suddenly turns into a…a…” she stumbled for the word.

  “A demonic creature.” I trie
d to help her out.

  She gave me a slight nod of thanks. “Some of them, yes. But this time, there were werewolves, one that looked like a boar with tusks and a werelion. A goddamn werelion is running the streets of Pittsburgh. Sorry for the language.”

  This certainly ramped things up. “No. That is pretty disturbing.”

  Gretchen pulled down the visor mirror and checked her makeup as she ran a red light. “That’s not even the most disturbing part.”

  I pressed the imaginary brake and pushed my back against the seat. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

  She mercifully flipped the visor up and focused on the road. “Six of the crime scenes had ‘G20’ written in blood on the floor.”

  “G20? Like the world leader conference?” I already knew the answer as soon as the question slipped from my lips.

  She nodded and cut off a local cop car. She waved at the male officer as if he had let her in. “The one and only. And this is the one that the leaders do attend, not like the U.N. meetings where they sometimes only send representatives.”

  I had almost forgotten about the conference being in Pittsburgh. “When is that date on that?”

  “November first.”

  Hoowaahhh. That’s coming right down the pike. I had been getting so fired up for the Lunar Eclipse on Halloween and Samhain that I had completely forgotten about the G20 International Summit. “I guess we need to figure this out quick. Have you been able to find anything interesting at any of the scenes?”

  She bit her lip and spoke with a closed mouth. “I hate to say it, but this might be more up your alley, than mine.” She mumbled a little but I could make out her words.

  I smirked. “What? You mean Lieutenant Meyer, Head of the Occult Division of the Pittsburgh Police…”

  She didn’t give me a chance to finish my self-righteous spiel. “Save it, jackass. What do you know?”

  “I ran into our good friend Ruth Westerhouse at the bar last night.” I lied. Sort of. Only for the greater good of all. I tapped my fingers against the window and stopped quickly. I had a few nervous tells that I needed to work on.