Shifters Hallows Eve

by Lori King

  "Yes, but I don't—"

  Clenching her teeth, Victoria reached out and pressed both hands flat against the middle of the ghost's back. Ice shot through her palms and fingers, but she ignored the sensation and shoved with all her strength. A dubious bonus of being a spirit seer/speaker included being able to touch them as well, though it was never pleasant.

  A startled yelp tore from the ghost. She tumbled, falling straight into the neglected gateway that had been trailing her this whole time. The glowing globe and the ghost collided. Brightness strobed. Both vanished.

  "Whew." Victoria huffed.

  In her mind, Freya giggled. That wasn't nice.

  Maybe not, but it got the job done. Victoria resumed her journey toward the entrance. Weariness rode her shoulders so she walked with her head bowed. Although she had preternatural stamina, the sixty-hour week she'd just put in had taken its toll. She couldn't wait to get home. The Winter Nights ceremonies would be exacting, but after they killed the goats, there would be feasting—mead and wine, song and dance. Quite probably—once everyone was sufficiently in their cups—a Howl.

  Oh, and most importantly, she had the next three days off... She planned to do absolutely nothing but relax.

  As she approached the nurse's station adjacent to the ER lobby, the voices of her female coworkers caught Victoria's attention. She looked up. An orderly—Crystal something or other—stood while an RN, Misty Greer, sat.

  "...that belt buckle is just too perfect! Oh, my god, he looks like a porn star with that thing on!"

  "Crystal, shh—" Misty hissed, shooting Victoria a decided look.

  "How big do you think his package is?" Crystal cracked bubble gum at a frenetic pace with her mouth wide open.

  Victoria slowed her steps but didn't stop. Vague disgust circled her... What, was this high school? They were all in their twenties.

  "Shh!" Panic on her face, Misty waved a frantic hand to stop.

  Undeterred, Crystal continued to gossip and chew. "Dressed like that, he's either huge or compensating in a big, big way for a teeny-tiny—"

  Misty grinned and all but shouted. "Oh, hey, Victoria! Are you just getting off?"

  Crystal gulped and then choked on her gum.

  "Uh, yes." Victoria paused at last. Her gaze shifted between the two women. She didn't know. Didn't want to know. "I have the next three days off."

  "Lucky you!"

  "Thanks." Victoria smiled. She wasn't lucky. The time off came as the result of careful planning and budgeting her paid vacation days. Her request for these dates had been on her boss's desk—in writing—since last December when the schedule for the coming year opened for requests.

  Without turning her head, Misty whacked her friend on the back. The piece of gum popped out of Crystal's mouth and she doubled forward, gasping for air.

  "Boy, am I jealous. I'm scheduled to work for the next four days."

  "Don't work too hard."

  "I won't. You have fun with your boyfriend."

  "I don't have a boyfriend." Not at the moment anyway.

  "Then you've got the hottest stalker I've ever laid eyes on." Misty grinned and aimed her finger toward the lobby, currently hidden behind the partition. She mouthed, "He's waiting for you."

  Brow raised, Victoria turned and moved in the direction indicated. As soon as she passed the partition, she got a clear view of the ER lobby. A dozen or so patients waited to be seen, including a couple superheroes and a man wearing a banana costume. Her gaze flew straight past them.

  A dangerous man occupied an entire row of three vinyl seats. He sat in the center chair and manspread—his arms draped across seatbacks to either side, legs splayed wide. He had dark brown hair cut short and a clean-shaven jaw, and warm eyes the color of fresh-baked brownies. His smile was as inviting as a sandy white beach.

  Victoria huffed. She wasn't fooled. Not for one beat of her racing heart. The man was a predator—a hunter from a family with a reputation for short-lived enemies. Wolf shifters and hunters... natural enemies except for an unlikely alliance forged by two exceptional men, one of whom was Victoria's father, Adair Storm. The other—Jake Barrett, the Hunter King. For almost three decades, the Storm Pack had coexisted peacefully with the hunters. They shared the Phoenix Metropolitan Area. They often coordinated their activities and pooled resources for the sake of defending their overlapping territories. The rest of the time, they left each other alone.

  Daniel Barrett pushed to his feet, planting his short, black work boots evenly on the chipped white subway tile. He had the tattoo of a black dagger on his upper arm—among the hunters the symbol functioned as a mark of belonging and brotherhood. Aviator sunglasses were hooked on the throat of his shirt. He wore glove-tight Levis that jealously hugged his long legs, and a revolver strapped to his thigh, right beside the shiny Maricopa County Sheriff shield on his belt which was dwarfed—Crystal hadn't exaggerated its size—by a big brass Winchester Repeating Arms belt buckle.

  The hunter's intense gaze settled on her and he flashed a bad boy smile that curled her toes. The temperature in the lobby spiked at least twenty degrees—a sure sign the A/C had gone out. Oh man, if she could bottle his charm and brew a potion, she'd never have to work again.

  Victoria crushed her answering smile, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. She refused to encourage him. Their one and only date had gone well, but it'd been over a week ago. In that time, she hadn't heard from him again. The silence confirmed her misgivings, and she assumed he'd arrived at the same conclusion she had—wolves and hunters didn't mix.

  Squaring her shoulders, Victoria marched straight up to him. Trouble was, her diminutive stature undermined the effect; balanced on her tippy-toes, she barely reached five feet. The top of her head only came to the middle of the hunter's torso and he looked down on her, as a matter of course. Throughout her life, she'd endured enough teasing about her height that she'd developed a teensy-tiny attitude problem.

  "I need your help," Daniel announced without preamble. He had a deep, resonant baritone, pleasing to the ear. "It's urgent."

  "Urgent, how?" She cocked her head and tilted toward him out of sharpened concern. The movement brought her braid over her shoulder. She tensed, mentally preparing to receive a request for off-the-record medical assistance. Monster hunting was a dangerous occupation; unusual injuries a commonplace hazard.

  "It's Macan—"

  "Macan Guffin? Is that old coot hurt again?" Old Mac Guffin might be a scoundrel, but damn it, she liked the cagey Scotsman. The hunter landed in her ER at least once a month, always due to "drinking-related" accidents.

  Compelled by concern, she turned away, saying, "Let me grab a first aid kit."

  Daniel caught her arm and stopped her. "He's missing."

  "Oh?" She faced him again, no less concerned but for different reasons now. The context told her something supernatural must somehow be involved, or he would've just gone through official channels. As a county sheriff, Daniel had statewide law enforcement resources at his disposal. After a moment of consideration, she pulled him into an alcove where they could speak privately.

  Intent, Daniel explained in a low voice. "Macan has been over in Granite Creek for a couple days now. The last time I spoke with him was yesterday. He was supposed to check in at noon, but I didn't hear from him."

  "Uh..." She cleared her throat. "Not to be rude but have you called the local bars? I mean, four hours isn't that long."

  Daniel flashed a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I did."

  "Didn't find him?" Which didn't mean Macan wasn't there—the man did have one helluva reputation...

  "He's not in a bar, Victoria. I'll admit, Macan likes to drink but the man is also a competent hunter. He promised me he'd be in touch no later than two. I tried calling his hotel too. They said he left around ten this morning and never returned. A hunter gone missing in Granite Creek isn't an isolated incident either. I have a bad feeling about this."

  "You should trust your instincts." And
so should she. The smart choice dictated she put her faith in Daniel's judgment. Although they were only acquaintances—who'd dated once—they'd hunted together on several occasions. She knew enough about his character to elevate a matter of concern to him to her highest priority. His reputation, much like his father's, preceded him.

  Daniel stared at her. His face twisted as though he wanted to frown but then he pulled a bashful smile. "Thanks."

  Warmth suffused her. "You're welcome. So, do you want to tell me about the other incidents? I presume that means other hunters have gone MIA."

  "Macan is the third hunter in the last hundred years to vanish in Granite Creek," Daniel said, deadly serious.

  The unexpected information threw her for a loop. Strange. If hunters were going missing anywhere in Arizona, she'd have expected to have heard about it before now. But then, he'd cited a century...

  "Three hunters is a lot, but a century is a long time. It's a dangerous profession—"

  "They all went missing on Halloween."

  2

  Poise shaken, Victoria parroted what he'd said, "All three? Gone missing on Halloween?"

  Daniel dropped a nod. "Yeah."

  "Okay, that's got to be more than a coincidence." She didn't mind conceding the point, especially since the matter had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

  "So, will you help me?" He shifted with restless energy. She got the distinct impression that the explanation given thus far had already taxed his patience.

  "Uh..." Normally, she'd have agreed immediately. When an ally made a genuine request for assistance, her people had an obligation to honor it. But tonight... Tonight was different. Her face pulled in uncomfortable ways, betraying the stab of discomfort. If she missed Winter Nights, her mother would kill her. Victoria wasn't afraid to cross her mother—she did so often enough that it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. However, the prospect of missing the sacrifice filled her with trepidation.

  Not if you have my blessing, Freya quipped.

  "What's wrong?" Daniel asked, picking up on her distress.

  "It's Winter Nights. I'm supposed to be celebrating tonight with my family," Victoria supplied, although she expected him to have absolutely no understanding what the holiday involved.

  "Oh. Right." He rubbed a finger across his upper lip. "That's tonight, huh?"

  "Yes, it's tonight. I'm supposed to be slaughtering a goat."

  His eyebrows knit but then he grinned. "You've got the strangest sense of humor of any woman I've ever met."

  "I'm not kidding. Tonight is important. You need me, specifically?" The last thing she wanted to do was dismiss him, but realistically, she found it difficult to believe that Daniel required her particular assistance—that no one else would do. Aside from his law enforcement connections, the man must have a hundred hunters at his beck and call at any given moment. If this was just another ploy to get her out on a date, as she suspected, then she preferred to refuse. The gods reacted poorly when not properly honored; she had no desire to incur their wrath.

  Pffft... I can hear you. Freya added a rude, quite un-goddess-like sound effect.

  Victoria rolled her eyes heavenward. I'm sorry, My Lady. Of course I didn't mean you. I was thinking of Freyr.

  Don't be such a worrywart. I can handle my brother. Besides—the goddess conveyed a thorough up-down of Daniel Barrett that was just loaded with subtext—it may be you'll find some other perfectly acceptable sacrifice to substitute. Honestly, goats are so boring.

  I'll be sure to mention your opinions to my mother the next time the topic comes up. Victoria pressed her hands to her sides, fighting laughter. She noted Daniel watching her, gauging her reactions. Poor guy probably thought she was mad.

  "I suspect the disappearances involve a powerful spirit. I don't have many other options." His handsome face contorted with worry.

  "What sort of spirit?" She tipped her face toward him, interest piqued. Ghosts really were her specialty and spiritualists tended to be rare. Maybe his need for her help was genuine.

  "Okay, here's the thing... I'm not really sure."

  She frowned. "So you think Macan may or may not have been kidnapped by a ghost, but you're uncertain."

  "Correct. Look, the whole history is complicated. It'd take too long to explain right now." He grimaced. "And yeah, I know what you're thinking—"

  "Which is what, exactly?" Victoria asked archly. She was pretty much right back to assuming he'd contrived a genuine-sounding scenario to lure her someplace romantic. Oh, no doubt some minor but otherwise unremarkable supernatural creature awaited their investigation. After all, Daniel hadn't lied...

  And another thought occurred to her—why the hell wasn't Jake Barrett looking into the matter himself? The Hunter King didn't just stand aside doing nothing when his people were in trouble.

  "My father's in Mexico," Daniel said in answer to her unspoken question.

  "You could've gone to my parents." She sharpened her tone, pressing because this was pretty much the final test. "My mother is a powerful medium also."

  "I prefer to work with you." He bared his teeth in an exceedingly wolf-like expression. Direct score: the man had just earned ten thousand bonus points.

  "Okay. Let's go, but I will have to call my parents and explain." She had Freya's sanction and the treaty obligating her to his aid. In her head, Victoria tore up her plans for a quiet, boring weekend and tossed the confetti.

  Freya snort-giggled. Please. Who are you kidding? Danger girl...

  A smile curved her compressed lips. Who me? Yeah, all right. But that's the polite way of saying it.

  "Just like that?" Surprise parted Daniel's lips.

  "You said it's urgent. Your reasons are solid. You're not lying—" Her acute sense of smell would've picked up on alterations to his basal odor if he had. "And we're allies. I assume you wouldn't drop into my work without calling if it wasn't important."

  "I called—twice. It went to voice mail."

  "I don't carry my cell phone on the floor." She hadn't since the last one had gotten destroyed by an overdosing meth addict who'd bludgeoned her with an oxygen tank. A long story—she really didn't want to repeat it. So she added, "I'm sorry. I usually check it after my shift but I was in a hurry to get out of here."

  "I'll explain more in the car," he said.

  Together, they exited the ER via the sliding door and headed toward the parking lot. Victoria hesitated. "I assume you want to take one car. I'd rather not leave mine unattended in the employee parking lot."

  He nodded. "I'll follow you over to your place. It'll give you a chance to pack an overnight bag."

  "Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to get me alone again?" She flashed a grin, willing to joke now that she'd accepted his story.

  "No. I wish it were." His gaze ate her up. "And I don't need excuses to do that."

  "All right, then." She flushed, pure pleasure. "I don't need to pack. I have a go-bag." The rush of anticipation charged her with a natural high. For all Victoria's protestations, her goddess had pretty much pegged it—there was nothing she loved better than adventure.

  "You really have a go-bag?" Daniel arched his brow.

  "Course I do," she returned smoothly. "Don't you?"

  He chuckled. "Your point."

  * * *

  The open road was a pleasure. The muscle car's engine revved as the 1970 Chevelle SS 454 convertible hugged the curve of scenic Highway 89 which connected Phoenix and Granite Creek. The wind noise from having the top down combined with the AC/DC song to create a deafening din.

  "For a man who gave me a damn speeding ticket, you drive like a bat out of hell!" Victoria yelled to the man behind the wheel.

  "What?" Daniel glanced over at her, confusion on his face.

  She sucked a deep breath. "I said—"

  "Sorry, I can't hear you!"

  When they wanted to talk, they pretty much had to shout. Not that Victoria minded—she hated the strained meaningless chit chat
that was the standard fare of first and second dates. This was much nicer.

  She sank into the plush, white leather bucket seat on the passenger side and dropped her right hand to the underside, seeking the controls. Once her fingers came into contact with the knob, she eased the seat back a few inches so she had an unimpaired view of the sky above. The setting sun cast a reddish blush across the western sky. The stars weren't visible yet, but soon—

  When Victoria had called home an hour ago, she'd gotten both her parents on the phone at the same time in a three-way conference call. Unlike Jake Barrett, Adair Storm had no rules about who his people were allowed to date. As a principle, Victoria preferred to be honest. Bluntness defined her personal style so she'd come right out and stated the facts upfront—

  "Mom, Dad, I'm going with Daniel Barrett to Granite Creek, so I'm going to miss the Winter Nights ceremony. This is for a case involving a missing hunter and a ghost. He specifically requested my help."

  Silence fell, during which Victoria gnawed her lower lip. She suspected an emergency parental powwow was underway, complete with hands over receivers and a heated but whispered exchange. She wound up holding her breath, straining to hear anything, while cursing the short-range nature of the bond—an empathetic connection that united all the wolves of the Storm Pack. If she'd been proximate, the union would've allowed her knowledge of their emotions.

  "Have fun and be careful," Katherine said with so much enthusiasm that Victoria rocked on her heels and almost toppled.

  "Daniel Barrett is a good man," Adair seconded with far more restraint.

  "I don't like Jake Barrett much—"

  "Now, Kitty. We've had this discussion a million times. He's an honorable ally—"

  "I'm not questioning his honor, Dear, only his geniality—"

  Victoria winced. Her father was right. She'd heard this same argument more times than she could count. "Guys, please—"

  "Beside the point, I agree with your father. Daniel Barrett is a good man. An excellent hunter. He'll make a fine mate and father."

  "Mom!" To her acute embarrassment, Victoria squawked and then mentally cursed her lack of control. She should've expected this.