Shift of Destiny

by Carol Van Natta

  The wolf jumped off the truck and launched the psychic attack of a powerful alpha. Submit!

  Chance’s beast let the order flow past him as he stalked silently around the side of the truck. Get bent, lapdog.

  The wolf growled his frustration and pressed the psychic attack harder, because some alphas were stubborn that way. The sound of paws on gravel said the wolf was positioning himself next to Moira’s door.

  Chance leapt up and over the truck to land in front of the big wolf. He struck with sharp claws, then followed up with a hard hit using his front paw, sending the wolf tumbling sideways, toward the loading dock.

  Stay down, projected Chance, or die like Richie did.

  What the fuck are you? Malevolent anger mixed with pissing fear in the wolf’s scent. I’ll demand Shifter Tribunal judgment. You killed my pack!

  Good luck with that. Chance stalked closer, watching his prey. Your twisted blood bond killed your pack. I just buried them. Chance slowed and sniffed the rotting wolf. Without the stolen life essences, the alpha’s body was falling apart by the minute. You’re next.

  Not if you want your mate to live. The thought was smug. He used an alpha half-shift to temporarily form guttural words. “Now!”

  Chance heard the sound of a gun cocking and froze in mid step.

  You can kill me, or save your mate, but not both.

  Chance stayed still, scenting and listening, while watching the mangy gray wolf in front of him.

  See? This is why I tell wolves that true mates make them weak. And mating with a short-lived human, when we live for centuries? Stupid. Pruhon rose and shook himself, dust and fur flying.

  Familiar magic flared, but Pruhon didn’t seem to notice.

  I’m leaving with my new recruits. You just stay here like a good...

  “Fuck!” The male voice came from somewhere high and to the right, beyond the fence into the next yard. “The truck disappeared.”

  Pruhon growled, then shouted. “Shoot where it was!”

  Even as Chance leaped for Pruhon, a shot rang out and ricocheted off metal.

  Chance got his massive jaws around the alpha’s front shoulder and bit hard. The wolf yelped and tried to push away, but he was no match for Chance’s teeth.

  “Shoot!” Pruhon screamed, reinforcing it with an alpha command, and an undertone of panic.

  Another shot rang out. Moira’s magic flared again and stayed strong.

  “Fuck! The light—I’m blind!” shouted the voice.

  “Give me that, you idiot,” said another voice. “Dad should have never given you that Ageless Assassin game.”

  “No! Get your own fucking gun.” Sounds of a scuffle ensued.

  Pruhon struggled to sink sharp canines into Chance’s muzzle, so he bit down harder on Pruhon’s shoulder, even though the putrid-tasting flesh threatened to gag him. The wolf’s hind claws painfully raked Chance’s belly, drawing blood.

  Moira’s voice rang out of nowhere. “Chance! He’s got something small with stolen alpha power.”

  Chance forced the wolf to the ground with brute strength and put a serving-platter-sized paw on the wolf’s ribs to hold him down. Chance blocked out all his beast’s senses for a moment to locate the tiny magic pulse of power near the wolf’s right hip.

  Pruhon started twisting and squirming, and broadcast a desperate, vicious psychic blast that once might have felled a whole pack. Die!

  Chance let the command roll on by and used his claws to flay open the wolf’s flank. An impossibly clean pink gem gleamed where it sat embedded in the flesh. He dug it out with a claw and batted it away from the wolf’s body.

  The life essence that was Pruhon faded like the morning mist. His body began shriveling and aging at an incredible rate. The flesh caught in Chance’s jaws sloughed away like a mouthful of decaying autumn leaves.

  He backed away slowly, watching the body become a dry husk that disintegrated and began drifting away in the cool mountain breeze.

  “Huh.”

  He turned to see his mate and his truck materialize before him, like a special effect on TV. Moira watched the last of the late alpha’s dust fly away, then turned to look at him. He stood stock still as she looked him over from head to tail. His nose worked to draw in the complex scent of his mate that held no hint of fear.

  She frowned when her eyes lit on his stomach, where the wolf’s claws had torn his skin loose. “Will shifting heal that?”

  He hesitated, then nodded his big head once. So far, she hadn’t reacted badly to him, but maybe she was just in shock. Even wolf, cougar, and grizzly shifters found him hard to be around.

  She sighed and gave him a tired smile. “Then do it, you big looby, so you can kiss me and tell me everything’s going to be all right.” She pointed to the east with her thumb. “Besides, we have to call the sheriff and figure out how to get the Witzer wonder twins out of the neighbor’s tree.”

  Outside of that one kiss and the too-short moment when he got to cherish her in his embrace, they were frustratingly never alone again.

  Shepherd showed up just as Chance and Moira found a ladder. Moira’s eyes grew round as she realized the eight-foot-tall hulk shaped like rocks on legs, with a grotesque face, was actually the helpful man from the garage.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t seeing what was in front of me before. I’m going to have to figure out who everyone is again.”

  “That’s okay. It’s nice to be seen for what I am.” He patted Chance on the shoulder. “I was worried about you. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Shepherd easily extricated Adam and Zed Witzer from the tall blue spruce, where they’d managed to get themselves hopelessly tangled in high-tech climber’s rope. When questioned, they spilled everything. They’d agreed to help Pruhon capture and sell Moira if he agreed to change them into werewolves. As wolves, they’d be more powerful than their dad, and selling Moira would not only deprive him of something he wanted badly, it would make them rich. Their orders had been to shoot the truck’s tires and engine, not Moira. After all, she was the merchandise.

  Shepherd called the sheriff’s office, and the dispatcher asked them to take their prisoners to the high school gym, where the occasional town hall meetings were held. Fortunately, Adam’s errant shots had only gouged the body of Chance’s truck, rather than hitting anything vital. Shepherd and Chance loaded the trussed-up twins into the back, and Chance and Moira drove them to the school. Chance had taken charge of the twins’ rifle, which had dropped during their scuffle, and now had it safely secured in the pickup.

  When they got there, a deputy sheriff named Shiloh handcuffed the Witzer boys and sent them off with a wolf-shifter officer to lock them in a patrol car. Chance and Moira followed Shiloh through the halls and gave him the Cliff Notes version of what had happened that night.

  In the gym, nearly a hundred men and women sat on the wood floor, arms and legs secured with zip ties. Astonishingly, most wore silver jumpsuits, and some had metallic blue and green makeup on their faces. Except for the mix of irritated and glum expressions, and the number of pissed off fairies keeping watch, they could have been extras in a no-budget science-fiction movie.

  “What the hell?” asked Moira, just beating Chance to the same question.

  Shiloh laughed, displaying his permanently pointed coyote teeth. “I know, right? Some dimwitted outsider named Witzer thought he could get away with stealing psychics from Kotoyeesinay. He dressed his crew like alien invaders, so no one would believe the reports.” He chuckled. “They even decorated some containment trucks to look like spaceships.”

  Moira shook her head in wonder. “How did you arrest so many people at once? If they’re Witzer’s goons, they all had tasers and guns.”

  “Oh, they did,” agreed Shiloh, “and magic charms to make them seem like your best friend forever.” His golden eyes gleamed with smartass humor. “They didn’t believe in witches.”

  “I didn’t, either, until l
ast night… or was it this morning?” Moira blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m completely muddled. And are those floating creatures carrying scimitars?”

  Chance put his arm around her and comforted his exhausted mate with a quick kiss. “The guards are djinn. They’re part of the town’s defenses. Witches can teleport.”

  Shiloh smiled. “The witches took the place of the real psychics and let themselves be put in the disguised trucks. When they got enough witches together, they teleported the mercenaries to the gym, and all the equipment to the town armory in Idyeria’s demesne. She loves new toys.”

  “What did they do with the trucks?” asked Chance.

  “Shepherd’s salvage yard. He’ll have them broken down in a couple of days, as if they never existed.”

  Moira frowned. “What about all these people?” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “They’re mercenaries, but they have families. Lives.”

  Shiloh waved dismissively. “After we ask them a few questions, the elves will wipe their memories of ever having been here.” He sighed theatrically. “I wanted to send them all to border-town drunk tanks, but the council said it would cause too much commotion.”

  “Are the elves going to make me forget, too?” Moira’s forlorn tone made Chance’s beast anxiously chuff inside him. Over his dead body.

  Shiloh looked taken aback. “No, we’d never do that to people in need of sanctuary.”

  Moira was obviously floundering, and Chance knew it was his fault for letting her sleep on the way back down instead of telling her important things about the magic world. He tightened his arm around her and kissed the side of her head. “Let me take you home, and I’ll explain everything.”

  “Not a good idea,” said Shiloh. “We still haven’t located Lawrence Witzer.”

  Moira’s sudden tension made Chance’s beast very unhappy.

  Shiloh held up his hands. “Don’t growl at the messenger. The oracles swear he hasn’t left Kotoyeesinay, but no one has seen him. We think he’s magically protected.” He tilted his head toward the captives. “That’s what we’ll be asking them.”

  “He’s never going to give up, is he?” Moira sighed. “I should leave. I’ve put everyone in danger. People could have been hurt.”

  Shiloh guffawed, startling a passing djinn into clinging to the ceiling. “You’re kidding, right? We haven’t had this much fun in years. We had to turn away volunteer ‘psychics’ for the invaders to capture.”

  “How did you find out about the invasion, anyway?” asked Chance. “That’s what we were coming to warn you about.”

  “The council’s oracles told us about the threat, but you know them, meaningful, but vague. It wasn’t until we caught one of the video crews that we got the details.”

  It was Chance’s turn to flounder. “Video?”

  Shiloh pointed to a group of six people seated on the bleachers. “Witzer’s sons found out about ‘Operation Area 51’ and hired the crews to get damning evidence on their father, not just for kidnapping the psychics, but for believing in them in the first place. They planned to use it to get their father declared incompetent and kicked off the board of his own company.”

  Moira heaved a sigh. “So if we can’t go home, can I at least use a bathroom?” She looked at her filthy hands. “Train wrecks look better than I do at the moment.”

  Chance thought she looked more beautiful than the stars in the night sky, but he knew enough about women not to try convincing her. Instead, he pulled a travel pack of moist towelettes out of his vest pocket and gave it to her with a kiss.

  She looked at the packet, then at him in disbelief. “You carry finger wipes?”

  “Not usually.” He shrugged. “They fell out of my tool bag. I forgot to put them back.”

  Shiloh asked one of the female reserve deputies, a young panther shifter from her scent, to show Moira the way there and back. Chance made himself stay put, but he couldn’t help but follow her with his eyes until she was out of sight.

  Shiloh gave Chance a sympathetic smile. “You got it bad, dude. Sometimes, I think mate biology is more of a hindrance than a help when it comes to shifters and love.”

  Chance shook his head. “I’m the only one of my kind, that I know of. I never thought it would happen to me.”

  Shiloh laughed. “None of us ever does, my friend. My husband is dozens of centuries old, and thought his mate was long dead, and I thought I was too broken from being a prisoner of war in Viet Nam. We danced around each other for a couple of years before admitting what our animals already knew.”

  “She’s not a shifter. My pheromones are affecting her judgment.”

  Shiloh shook his head. “Don’t let your fear mug your happiness in a dark alley.”

  His radio beeped, and he stepped away, leaving Chance alone with his thoughts.

  13

  One look in the mirror of the well-lit locker room told Moira she had unintentionally insulted train wrecks by comparing herself to them. Her right cheek was swollen, and her eye was turning a lovely shade of dark blue. Dried blood from her swollen, tender nose stained her chin and her T-shirt. Her stomach sported a fist-sized bruise from where Richie had slugged her. She stopped counting the various scratches, scrapes, and bruises. Her hair and clothes looked like she’d rolled down a mountain. Which, to be fair, she had, but that was beside the point.

  She took off her hoodie, then made use of half of Chance’s pack of towelettes, and asked her escort, a confident African American woman named Chantal, to help her brush the worst of the dirt off her back. Moira had a disconcerting moment when she looked at Chantal in the mirror and saw the unmistakable features of a black leopard. A quick glance at the real woman proved she hadn’t shifted, so it was just Moira’s magic, uncovering the hidden. She really needed to get a handle on that.

  “You sure have that hot redhead shifter dancing a jig,” commented Chantal. “If I were you, I’d reel him in fast.”

  Moira laughed to cover her embarrassment. “He’s sinfully handsome, isn’t he?” She carefully closed the pack of towelettes and slid it into the pocket of her hoodie. “Could I ask you a question? I’m new to all this, er, magical world stuff, and I’m still trying to understand everything.”

  Chantal shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Pruhon’s wolves expected to get a lot of money by selling me at auction because I have magic and ‘shifter-mate potential.’ What is it? And is it only for wolves?”

  “It’s any shifter, usually. Some humans can successfully mate with a shifter, as in, make a soul connection and conceive cubs or pups or whatever. Good for avoiding inbreeding.” She cocked her hip and rested her fist on it. “Some lazy-ass shifter outfits buy potentials like you and sex-mate them, rather than bother with all the courtship and consent stuff.” She made a face. “Sex-mating is just what you think it is, except the mental bond never forms. My mama was sex-mated by a no-good leopard when she was a human and got accidentally pregnant. That didn’t fit his plans, so he sold her to an auction, who sold her to a corrupt pride that planned to make her into a baby factory. Luckily, she escaped before he could force the shift change on her. Three months later, out I popped.”

  “Your mother sounds amazing. I’ve been running from a crazy man for three years. I can’t imagine doing it pregnant. Or raising a child alone.”

  Chantal smiled. “My mom is alpha, through and through, but it would have sucked donkey balls if she hadn’t met her true mate in an all-night truck stop. He may be a big grumpy bear, but he’s the daddy of my heart.”

  Moira couldn’t help but smile at Chantal’s obvious affection. “How did the wolves know I have the potential?”

  “Scent, usually. Did any of them lick your skin?” When Moira nodded, Chantal continued. “That’s how. If I was attracted to women, your skin would taste sweet and spicy, make me want to eat you up.”

  Moira blushed when she remembered what she and Chance had done in the old bedroom at Turn of the Cards. Had that only
been last night? She’d lost all track of time. Lack of sleep wasn’t helping, either.

  “So, this true mate thing. How does it work with shifters and humans?” She shrugged apologetically. “Don’t answer if it’s too personal.”

  Chantal chuckled. “This is a small town. Everybody’s always up in everyone else’s business. Those of us with enhanced senses know exactly who’s been doing what with who.” Chantal leaned against the counter. “My mama said it felt like sexual attraction at first, but it was deeper, like she wanted to hitch her wagon to his star and go wherever he did. She’d been so afraid, and he made her feel safe, even though they had both vengeful felines and coyotes hot on their tails. She’d been around plenty of shifters, and none of them ever made her hormones go off like the jackpot bells of a slot machine. They came here, the town granted sanctuary, and they got human-married a week later.”

  Chantal’s radio beeped, startling them both. She tapped a button on the mic she wore on her uniform. “Chantal. What do you need?”

  Moira heard tinny noise coming from Chantal’s earpiece, but couldn’t make it out.

  “On my way.”

  Chantal stood up and smiled. “Come on, girlfriend. Your redheaded shifter is making people nervous because he thinks you’re hurt. Let’s go show him you’re finer than fine.”

  Moira’s eyes found Chance the moment she entered the gym, right where he’d been. He was still the handsomest man she’d ever seen. And if she hadn’t already fallen in love with him, his look of relief and slow smile as she crossed to him would have done the trick.

  Chantal chuckled and leaned in confidentially. “If that man hasn’t already chosen you as his mate, I’ll go vegetarian for a week.”