Shifters Hallows Eve

by Lori King

  "Over here." Charity's voice carried from somewhere beyond the furnace. They circled and found the ghost standing along the far wall before a charred section of concrete three feet in diameter. The blackened swath pulsated and festered, oozing discolored pus.

  "Do you see that?" Victoria pointed.

  "See what?" Daniel asked in a pinched-brow voice.

  Victoria forced her vision back to the material plane. As she suspected, the wall was smooth and unblemished. Daniel couldn't perceive the phenomenon because it existed only in the Shadowlands. Blinking restored her second sight. She stepped up to the wall and placed her hand over the discoloration.

  "We want to dig here."

  "Give me some space." Daniel stepped up, hefting the crowbar into position. His biceps bulged, forearms rippled, the clean play of sinew beneath his tanned skin.

  "Okay." Nodding, Victoria stepped aside. Of course, she could have utilized her claws to rip into the concrete, but the area was too small for both of them to work safely. Ultimately, the metal bar was the superior tool for the job. Besides, laziness suited her mood. The fight against the wight had worn her out. Let Daniel do some of the heavy lifting this time.

  With a grunt of exertion, Daniel swung the crowbar, a stroke that embedded the pronged end deep in the concrete. The blow sent up a fine dust and a spray of pebbles. When he yanked the bar free, larger chunks of rubble tumbled to the floor. He set a hard, steady rhythm, toiling at the task.

  Charity pressed a clenched fist to her mouth and sank her teeth into her finger. She trembled, and anxiety rolled off her in waves.

  "It's going to be okay. Just a few more minutes and you'll be reunited with your husband." Seeking to comfort the other woman, Victoria reached over and took Charity's hand. The spirit glanced at her in clear surprise but didn't withdraw.

  "It's just been so long... I can't believe it's finally over. We're going to be together again at last." Teary-eyed, Charity sniffled and tightened her grip on Victoria's hand.

  The two women stood together while Daniel worked. A slick sheen of sweat shone on his skin. He widened the hole to about two feet across, and then he focused on deepening it. Debris formed a pile on the floor. On a final swing, the sound of the strike changed—a dull, hollow impact—and over half the crowbar sank into the opening.

  Changing his grip on the handle, Daniel hauled back on the crowbar and extracted it amid a shower of rubble. He dropped the tool to the floor where it landed with a clatter. Still breathing hard, he rested his hand alongside the hole and stared inside.

  "What do you see?" An excited quiver shot through Victoria and she released Charity's hand. It required all her self-control not to rush closer for a better look.

  "It's dark—I can't see anything." He squinted and cocked his head while he performed a pat down of his pants.

  "Let me." Unable to stand it any longer, Victoria pressed closer. Daniel yielded, stepping aside so she had a clear view. As he'd said, it was dark. She caught a charcoal scent that reminded her of an old fire pit.

  "Here." Daniel produced the elusive pen light he'd been unable to locate earlier. He passed it to Victoria over her shoulder.

  "Thanks. I think I see something." She aimed the beam of light into the interior, illuminating what she thought was a burnt board. She reached in to remove it, but then her mind connected the dots. That wasn't a piece of wood, but rather a charred bone. Hastily, she jerked her arm back.

  Something moved inside the wall.

  "Charity." Victoria beckoned for the spirit.

  "What can I do?" Charity hurried closer and gazed through the pit. A cry fell from her lips. Without waiting for instructions, she walked into the wall—the front half of her body vanished into the concrete. When she stepped back, Charity drew a man—presumably Joseph—along with her. The couple was locked in a lover's embrace, a passionate kiss that went on and on.

  At first, a stupid smile overtook Victoria. She indulged the exhilaration—stealing a glance at Daniel, she found the hunter grinning like mad. He caught her looking at him. Their gazes locked and the triumph became theirs. Together, they'd accomplished this amazing thing—tormented lovers separated by centuries, reunited at last. When he raised his arm in an unspoken invitation, she pressed close to his side, and he wrapped his hand around her waist. They leaned into each other.

  Epiphany struck her. Victoria's eyes widened. "You can see him?"

  Daniel's face slackened as the realization came to him. Surprise spiked his voice. "Yeah, I do. How is that possible?"

  She shook her head, unable to provide answers. The sudden appearance of a brilliant ball of white light spared her the necessity. The spiritual portal appeared directly over the ghostly couple. The gateway rotated and cast dancing rays upon the lovers. It emanated joy and welcome.

  Charity broke the kiss. She cupped her husband's face and drew back. "Joseph, my love," she said with tears streaming down her cheeks. "I've missed you so much."

  "I'm so sorry. I tried to get back to you but I couldn't—" The frantic apology tumbled from Joseph. He was a fine-looking young man, with sandy brown hair and freckles. He wore a flashy necktie, a cream-colored Homberg hat, and a dapper dark tan suit with pink striping. Joseph lacked the solid definition that Charity possessed. Studying them, Victoria concluded that Joseph was only visible to Daniel while the husband and wife were touching—deriving his substance from her.

  "Shh..." Charity shushed him. "It's all right. We're together now. That's what matters."

  "I heard you crying—calling to me." Joseph stole another kiss and only Charity's efforts kept it from turning into another long embrace.

  "I always knew you hadn't left me willingly. I waited for you." Charity glanced over at Victoria. The spirit's brow pinched with puzzlement. Her lips pursed and she returned her regard to her husband.

  "I love you. I love you so much," Joseph declared and at last Victoria concluded that he wasn't even aware of his silent audience.

  "I love you too, but the bank's closed." Charity averted yet another amorous advance from her spouse. "We've got to go."

  "Go where?" Joseph asked, clearly confused.

  The gateway wobbled on its axis, scattering a spray of bright light everywhere—more disco ball than spiritual portal in its bearing. Victoria worried about Charity and Joseph being snatched up and whisked away before the all-important question could be posed. Daniel's arm tightened around her—he shared her concern.

  "Charity," Victoria said in a tense voice. "We need to know the location of that gold mine. Our friend went looking for it and he hasn't come back."

  Joseph bridled, clearly startled. His head jerked, and he glanced frantically about. "What was that?"

  "It's okay, sweetheart." Charity captured her husband's cheeks again. She met and held his gaze. "We can be together now, forever. Just tell me something first. Can you do that?"

  His agitation waned. "Yes, of course. I'd do anything for you."

  "I need to know about the treasure map you had to the lost gold mine."

  Joseph's face reddened. "Ah, Cheri. You know that old thing was baloney."

  Charity stilled—deadly serious. "That wicked man murdered you for that map, Joey. Tell me how to find the gold mine."

  "All right." Joseph squared his shoulders. "The closest landmark is Slaughterhouse Gulch. Two creeks feed it—branching northwest and northeast. The mine was located in a deep canyon along the northeastern arroyo about two miles from the Slaughterhouse Gulch headwaters. I'm sorry. That's all I know."

  "Thank you, my love. That's exactly what we needed." Charity feathered a quick kiss over her husband's mouth and then shot a questioning glance toward Victoria.

  Not wanting to disturb Joseph again, Victoria nodded and mouthed her thanks. While it wasn't as ideal as a longitude and latitude, the directions were more than they'd had before. It'd have to be enough to go on.

  The couple kissed again. The portal above them brightened in a blinding flash. Reflexi
vely, Victoria shut her eyes and turned her face away. Heat washed across her skin, and a clean, sweet scent—lilacs and plums. She waited until the blaze died down before she looked again. Charity and Joseph were gone. Her breath hitched, and she reached up and found her cheeks were wet with tears. She'd witnessed the crossing over of countless spirits and escorted a number to Valhalla, but this counted as one of the most marvelous and truly touching ascensions ever. It left her wondering, just an inkling in the back of her mind, about the identity of Charity's mysterious benefactor.

  "That was amazing. I'm glad we were able to help them." Daniel stepped away from Victoria and stooped to pick up the crowbar. "I'll make sure someone collects Joseph's remains and sees to it he's interred with Charity, but we're running out of time, especially if he's fallen into a haunted gold mine that only appears on All Hollow's Eve..."

  Victoria nodded. "Let's go find old Mac Guffin."

  9

  Overhead, the moon was a bright and silvery disk against the black canvas sky. The stars shimmered and winked down upon them, providing ample illumination. Dawn remained a few hours off yet. True solitude. They'd run out of what could be called a proper road some time ago. The bumpy, narrow pathway they'd been following for the last several miles hardly qualified as a path—it bore closer resemblance to a furrow. She'd seen deer trails with more definition.

  The Chevelle's wheel hit a pothole that caused the front right wheel to drop. The car veered to the side. Victoria braced herself against her seat and released a sharp huff when the vehicle came to a safe stop.

  Behind the wheel, Daniel glanced over and met her gaze. An unspoken thought passed between them—many more jolts like that and they risked becoming stuck or breaking an axle. He shut off the engine and said, "That's it. We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot."

  "That's okay. If we're on foot, I stand a chance of picking up Mac's scent." Stretching her arms overhead, Victoria took a deep breath, tasting the cool air. The surrounding shrubs and trees had a dry aroma that reminded her of a wood pile. Throughout Arizona, areas normally classified as arid were in the midst of a more than decade-long dry spell. She loved the irony—drought in a desert.

  "Good idea." He checked his cell phone. The LCD cast its glow upon his face. "There's no signal—I have zero bars."

  "I'm not surprised." She joined him at the back of the car. It'd been miles, almost an hour, since they'd passed the last sign of civilization. Now, it was just the two of them. A profound thought—out here in the middle of nowhere, so far from friends and family, with no means of communication. They were not only alone but dependent upon each other for survival.

  "If Macan got hurt or stranded, he couldn't have called for help." Daniel opened the trunk and rooted around, extracting a tactical combat flashlight and a rifle from within. He slung the firearm's carry strap over his shoulder. Aside from various non-magical knives and the holstered handgun, he also wore the enchanted knife sheathed within its scabbard on his belt. He had a backpack well-stocked with survival supplies.

  "Do you think you have enough weapons?" While he had his back to her, Victoria pulled her shirt and her bra over her head. She tossed the garments past Daniel into the trunk and started on her jeans.

  He glanced over, aiming his flashlight toward where her clothing had landed. He reached and came up with her bra straps dangling from his fingers. To her surprise, he didn't turn immediately. Instead, he stared as though riveted by the sight of her practical athletic bra. Damn it—talk about missed opportunities. She could've worn a lacy pushup.

  Freya giggled. Next time.

  Victoria rolled a smile heavenward. Yes, My Lady. Next time.

  "Victoria?" His voice fluctuated. The intoxicating aroma of arousal accentuated the cardamom notes she associated with his basal odor.

  "I'm going to shift to a wolf so I can better track by scent. I'd rather not ruin my clothes so I'm leaving them in the car." She finished peeling off her pants and underwear, and picked up her flip flops too. Rolling everything together, she pitched the bundle into the trunk. It dropped in—a neat slam dunk.

  The chilly night air nipped at her bare skin but not too badly. As soon as she undertook the change to her animal form, her comfort would no longer be an issue. As a wolf, she preferred cooler climates. Rather peevishly, she'd always considered the desert to be a habitat better suited to coyotes than wolves, thought she kept such thoughts to herself. No good came from upsetting her parents or packmates with complaints beyond their control.

  "Good idea." He cleared his throat and dropped her bra back into the trunk. Reaching overhead with both hands, he closed the lid. "Is it okay if I turn around? I haven't witnessed many full shifts."

  A grin split her face. She strangled on her laughter. "Oh, so you'd like to watch? Purely out of professional curiosity, I'm sure."

  He snickered. "Yeah, that's it."

  "Okay, sure." Victoria shrugged. She wasn't modest or shy—few shape-changers were. In fact, she harbored no doubts as to her own attractiveness. Not every man wanted her, but most heterosexual men looked. She had a trim, athletic figure, with a compact torso and the powerful legs of a ballerina. She also possessed the grace of a dancer due to years of formal training.

  Slowly, Daniel turned and came to a full stop. His gaze locked on her, a thorough appraisal with the weight of touch. He stroked her curves, creating a controversy of conflicted sensations—heat and chills, immobility and trembling.

  "Wow," he drawled.

  She flushed with pleasure—loving the attention—but she refused to indulge in excessive vanity. Preening wasn't her style. Settling into a crouch, Victoria pressed her fingertips to the rocky ground. She gathered her energy, preparing to change shapes. Power flowed over her—her skin rippled over shifting muscles—but the transformation started more slowly than normal. The events of the evening had already drained her reserves, and she hadn't eaten since before the fight with the wight. Swallowing a cry of frustration, she raised her hands from the ground. Dirt and small rocks clung to her palms, but she ignored the debris, clenching her hands. When she flicked them open again, all her finger bones broke with an audible crunch. It hurt. She grimaced and growled.

  "Are you okay?" Gravel crunched beneath Daniel's boots.

  "I—" She tried to offer assurance that she was fine, but it hurt too much. Her skin prickled, hot and flushed, unbearably itchy as white fur pushed to the surface. Her ears grew pointed and migrated to high on her head.

  "Victoria?" Daniel bent and reached for her.

  "Stop." His proximity threatened her while she was at her most vulnerable. She opened her mouth just as her canines erupted and her jaws distended, pushing into a muzzle. No more words. She snarled, baring her teeth.

  Daniel froze, hand extended, surprise on his face as though the family golden retriever had taken a mean turn. Thankfully, for his sake and her own, he refrained from making any sudden movements. He sank into a crouch, lowered his arm, and rested his hand on his knee. Unassuming—maybe even reassuring, if she allowed herself to consider him a guardian instead of a potential foe.

  Victoria surrendered to her wolf and rode out one of the roughest transformations she'd ever endured. The change clanked through her body like falling dominoes—bones breaking, remolding, and healing. Agony—not the good pain she associated with shape-shifting.

  At the midway point, she gained in height and weight and resembled nothing so much as the classic movie wolfman—the "fighting" form of most wolf shifters because of the additional stature. Her size once again shrank as she progressed toward her canine form.

  As a wolf, Victoria wasn't much bigger than most coyotes and smaller than some of the males. Her fur was pure white, unmarred by even a hint of dark guard hairs. Her father liked to tease her that her color was the reason she disliked heat so intensely. "Victory, you are a snow wolf who had the misfortune of being born in the desert," Adair had said and laughed.

  Breathing hard, she dropped to her
belly, rested her head on her front paws, and lay there while she recovered her strength. Her belly rumbled its hunger. It hadn't been long since she'd last eaten, but the process required an enormous amount of energy. Come morning, she'd be ravenous. She dreaded the prospect of becoming human again—didn't even want to think about it.

  Daniel rocked onto his backside, seated beside her, and reached over. He held his hand hovered over her head as though waiting for a protest or permission. She raised her muzzle, whined, and then yawned.

  "Man, this has been a Halloween to remember." Daniel chuckled and stroked his palm across the top of her skull, trailing his fingers between her ears. "Silky."

  With a snort, Victoria clambered to her feet. All right, rest break over—time to get to work. She took a couple wobbly steps, gaining strength as she walked it out. Daniel rose in a smooth motion and trailed her.

  "You ready to go?" he asked in a husky voice.

  She ruffed in agreement and charged ahead to assume the lead, running with her nose to the ground. It took a few seconds before she caught the scent of another vehicle—rubber tires, recent exhaust—definitely not more than a day old. With an excited yip, she kicked it into high gear and galloped down the path.

  "Hey, hold up!" Daniel's footsteps pounded on the dirt as he charged after her. His rough gait jostled the flashlight so the beam of light bounced wildly.

  With a wolf's smile, Victoria slowed her pace to an easy jog so he could keep up. She followed the scent markers for about a half mile. At one point she stopped to examine a tire print in a patch of mud. The width and pronounced threads led her to conclude they were tracking a truck or SUV, the obvious conclusion since any vehicle capable of tracking the rough terrain must have had four-wheel drive. Her suspicions were confirmed when they rounded a bend and came upon an abandoned Chevy Silverado.

  "This is Macan's truck. At least we know we're on the right trail." Daniel tried the front door, but it refused to open. While he worked on the lock, Victoria ran a circuit about the vehicle with her nose close to the ground. She picked up the missing hunter's scent leading away from the pickup.