She paused for a few moments as if she were debating how much to share with me. Touché. She finally said, “A few members of the family have been in a dustup here and there over the years, but nothing substantial. We do have several accusations of them being devil worshippers. Not sure if it’s just from owning that strange bowling alley, but none of the accusations had any meat. You don’t go nosing around a family like that unless you have all your ducks in a row.”
“I hear you on that.” That was why I had no plans of ambushing anyone from the McNight family to try to get information. I would be the one to end up in jail.
We came to an abrupt stop at a red light and she turned to me. “What do you guys in Magicville know about them?”
Magicville. I smiled. If only Gretchen got a peek at the wonderful sights I had seen in the Deep Burrow. If she had seen Alayna riding the Pegasus to the Otherworld of the Gods, it would have blown her mind. Hell, it had nearly caused my brain to combust. I saved the supernatural stories and answered her question, “We’ve heard that they may or may not run a sex ring with some of the other highfalutin members of Pittsburgh.”
“Holy shit. That would explain why most of these shifters are all in top positions in their fields. But how would that connect to the G20?” Gretchen didn’t swear often, which indicated to me that she was scared.
I pulled my hand out from under my leg and shook it around to get the blood flowing again. “I don’t know that yet. It also shows randomness with some of the people being in menial jobs. Maybe they can’t get to the world leaders themselves, but what about the people working security? I think those people need to fall under heavy scrutiny.”
“So how would we know if they are one of those shifters?” Gretchen pulled onto an off-ramp.
“That’s just it. It would be really hard to detect.” I hadn’t been paying close attention, but I realized Gretchen had just driven around like a maniac to take a longer route to get to Aspinwall.
“We’re screwed. That’s what you’re saying?”
I don’t think she wanted me to tell the truth. “Not exactly. If we figure this out before November 1st, we can possibly stop the entire thing before it starts. With that said, it won’t be gentle.”
She hooked a quick right into a communal parking lot of businesses. “We have to make a stop before we visit these gruesome scenes. Don’t eat that power bar if you brought one.” We stopped at Don’s Doughnuts. She put the vehicle in park, looked at me, and removed the keys from the ignition. “You can stay in the car if you want.”
“What are you doing?”
“I just need to give something to my daughter.” She slammed the door closed.
Daughter? I didn’t know she had a daughter. Why had she been setting this up like a shady drug deal? I got out of the car and met her at the rear of the vehicle.
I said, “You never mentioned a daughter. Not even one word or sentence in passing conversation.”
“It never came up.”
“I’m pretty sure I asked you if you had kids one time and you changed the subject. I told you about my mom and dad when you asked me.” I hadn’t told her about my cancer. I hadn’t spoken to too many people outside the group about it. She knew that my mother had died when I was ten and my father was in prison for selling drugs.
She leaned back onto the rear of her vehicle and closed her eyes. “Alright, Merlino, I have a daughter. Happy.”
I sat on the back bumper for about one second until Gretchen swatted me on the shoulder to get up. I had a feeling my weight might be too much for the rusty bumper. “Why would I be happy? Oh, and if you think that you’re annoying me with Merlino, I like it. So you’re married?”
She exhaled audibly through her nose. “I am.”
I smiled. “What’s his name?”
She shook her head. “Her name is Margaret. We call her Metmet.”
“Why do you call her that?” I wanted to know.
She pulled at the collar of her uniform, uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “That’s what our daughter called her when she was little. The simpler days.”
Someone pulled up slowly in a red Mazda Miata. Gretchen ran over to the driver’s side window of the car. She pulled something out of her purse and held it inside the window. Gretchen said, “Just use this one. If they give you any problems, tell them to call me directly.”
“All right, Mom. I have to go. I‘m already late for the appointment.”
I couldn’t get a good look at her daughter except to distinguish that she was Japanese if I wasn’t mistaken. The sun’s golden rays highlighted her silver eyebrow ring and matching earrings, but I couldn’t really make out any other distinguishing features.
The Miata pulled away and Gretchen returned. I said, “Your daughter’s Asian.” It sounded more like a question, a bad question, judging from Gretchen’s reddening face.
She spoke in a defensive tone. “Yes, your eyes are working. She’s Japanese. Adopted. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all. She’s cute. She have a boyfriend?” I wanted to have a little fun.
In one motion, she reached out, grabbed my left nipple and twisted. Motherfu… I clenched my teeth. “Are you serious right now?” So much for a little fun. Prude.
“Let me tell you a few things about courtesy. Partners don’t touch members of their partner’s family. Got it?”
“I understand the concept, but what is this partner talk? You’ve never considered me to be close to your equal. Is this the set up to some joke?”
She jammed a finger in my face. “You know I don’t joke a lot and well, if there’s one thing I hold closer than anything, it’s my daughter. You mess with her. Look me in the eyes.”
“Are you sure?” Most Normals didn’t want to look a wizard in the eyes.
She grabbed both my cheeks with one hand and made me look like a guppy. She looked dead into my pupils and didn’t waver. “You mess with her and I will kill you. Understand?”
“I do.” I gurgled like a fish as I nodded.
She released her hawkish grip and we got back into the car. I tried to forget about our little dust up and focus on the task at hand. Why would these shifters want to crash the G20? Sure, they could kill a bunch of world leaders, but that doesn’t exactly destroy the world. If something happened to the President, the Vice-President stepped right in. Unless it’s an idea to start a blame game that eventually leads to World War 3.
7
We arrived at the scene of a reported werelion attack. It was in the lobby of an office building in an industrial park and the troubled looks on the officer’s faces made me apprehensive. I’d seen some gnarly stuff in my twenty-three years on this planet so I wasn’t overly worried. I’d also been responsible for ending the life or an immortal killer, but nothing could have prepared anyone for the murder scene.
I walked up to the front of the crowd as the metallic smell of fresh death got thicker by the step. I took a quick peek, threw up in my mouth, and swallowed the bitter, copper flavored spit-up. The burning feeling slowly slid back down and churned in my belly, threatening to erupt again.
I was just wishing I had a drink or breath mint to get rid of the nasty flavor, when a hand with a pack of gum in it appeared in front of my face. I nodded in thanks to Gretchen and grabbed a piece of the peppermint gum. A little overreactive at first, but it did the trick. I stopped chewing it and stashed it in my cheek as I took another look.
There were three victims within about ten feet of each other. The first was a man in a gray suit lying on his back. A perfect bite had been taken out of his upper arm and his throat had been ripped apart, scattering blood and scraps of body tissue on the gold speckled white floor.
A woman lay three feet from him on her side. She wore a light dress that was completely soaked in blood. I only recognized she was a woman from her large breasts. All the skin on her face and head, including her hair had been torn away, exposing ligaments and images that were going to
give me nightmares. The werelion must’ve used its claws to perform a gruesome new-aged scalping.
The third male victim lay on his face in a pool of blood. His intestines had been ripped out and dragged across the lobby. I had no urge to measure, but at least ten feet of this man’s bloody insides had been strewn across the floor.
I tried not to focus on the gruesome bits and instead concentrated on finding overlooked clues. The scene had already been swept so I didn’t find anything to go on.
We left the lobby and got back into Gretchen’s car. I spit the gum out the window. “So who was the person before they shifted?”
“Still gathering info, but it was a male janitor. One of the few with a low-level job.” Her phone rang and she dug it out of her pocket. She pressed a button and put it up to her ear, “Meyer here.”
I smirked. I would never admit it to her face, but G.M. sounded like a badass when she answered her phone.
“Really. Be right there.” She turned to me as she made an illegal U-turn, almost clipping two parked cars in the process. “We got ourselves a ballgame.”
I could have sworn the car was on two wheels at one point until Gretchen straightened the long SUV out and pressed on the gas. My head whipped back, hitting the unforgiving headrest. “What the hell is going on?” I asked.
“Gun owner in Ohara Township had the werelion come on his property and shot it.”
My eyes widened. “Dead?”
She cut off a garbage truck and hit the gas. “I think so. They have the body down at Saint Margaret’s Emergency Area. We need to be first to check it out.”
“That’s like five miles away.”
“We’ll be there in three minutes.” She weaved in and out of traffic as we crossed the Highland Park Bridge.
I grabbed the oh-shit bar above my right shoulder with both hands and hung on for dear life until we reached the Emergency Room. She ignored the parking spots, pulled up to the door, and threw it in park. Gretchen jumped out and must have been all kinds of revved up because she left the keys in the ignition.
I turned the key and pulled it out. I ran in through the automatic doors and darted toward the waiting rooms in the back. I had visited this facility a few times since living in Pittsburgh. When you practice magic, you’re going to get some bumps and bruises along the way. I preferred mostly holistic and self-healing techniques.
Heading for the operating room, I noticed a big huddle around one of the waiting rooms. A mass of doctors and nurses struggled to get into the small examination room. The stench of wet fur hit my nose so I lowered my shoulder and started to plow through the crowd of people. I used my size and strength to barge through.
Gretchen wasn’t as lucky. I saw her being thrashed around as I backed into the room and slammed the door shut. I opened the door again and shoved two confused doctors out.
The remaining doctor asked, “What’s the meaning of this?” The doctor had short red hair and a bald ring on top of his head. He wore thick black glasses and had a clipboard tucked under his arm.
I locked the door and looked down at the shorter doctor’s shiny head. “This creature is a danger to you. To everyone. Why don’t you have it strapped down?”
“It’s dead.” He tapped his stethoscope.
In that case, I moved the bed so it blocked the door, ignoring the knocking and screaming coming from outside. I stared at the werelion and studied its features. The beast had rippling arm and leg muscles under the light brown fur that covered his entire body. There were claws at the ends of his bloody hands and my mind flashed back to the crime scene. I couldn’t find the bullet wounds on the body and assumed the man had shot the shifter in the back.
The shifter had a rounded, blood-soaked face and extended mouth and nose, looking more like a lion’s head than a human’s. The fangs creeping out of his lips made for quite a fearsome beast.
I didn’t sense any magic coming from the shifter, but that could have been because he was dead.
I wasn’t a doctor, but I knew this was a strange storage room for this beast. “What’s the story here, sir? Why is this creature in a room like this?”
The doctor looked at the clipboard. “The report said that a man shot a standing lion in his backyard. They prepared to take the body to the morgue when it suddenly changed into a human being. The coroner requested an autopsy on the man and when he got here, he changed into what you see right now. We didn’t know what to do. We panicked. Yes, even doctors panic.”
“So you shoved him in here until you could figure out what to do?”
The doctor nodded, still staring at the clipboard. “Precisely. Do you know what this thing is?”
“I wish. We have a slight problem. It’s usually a human being that shifts into an animal and I am getting the suspicion that animals are taking over the bodies of humans, which is a much scarier prospect.” I didn’t want to scare the man, but judging from his widening eyes, it wasn’t working.
Maybe that’s why they could shift without the assistance of the moons. The more I found out about this case, the more it spooked the hell out of me. I was permitted to call myself a wizard but I was also very early in my training. I had a bad feeling this case was going to require an advanced knowledge that I simply hadn’t developed yet.
Gretchen pounded on the door, threatening to break it off its hinges. “Merlino. Open this up and let me in there, right this second.”
I couldn’t. I knew if I opened the door, I would get dragged out of the room and possibly arrested. Gretchen sounded pretty pissed. I had to collect something from this beast before I left. That was it.
“Do you have scissors in here?” I made the motion with my fingers for some reason.
“Not in these rooms. I don’t believe we do,” said the doctor, who started rifling through the cabinets and drawers.
“Forget it.” I pinched the werelion’s mane and tightened my grip several times to be sure I had a firm hold. Sorry buddy, but I need something to remember you by.
I yanked and pulled out less fur than I had expected and jammed it into my back pocket.
The doctor screamed, “You can’t do that. You can’t alter a specimen before it undergoes the autopsy.”
“Relax. You already said he is dead.” I pointed to his chest, his face, and his blinking eyes.
Blinking eyes?
Damnit.
I had to think quickly. I was locked in this tiny room with only emergency equipment, a skinny doctor, some medical machines in the corner and a shifting werelion. I went to the huge cabinets under the sink and ripped open both doors. The doctor protested as I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and jammed him into the cabinet. I had to lean with all my weight on the doors and screamed, “Stay in here until I let you out or you’re going to die.”
I used a stack of tongue depressors to jam in between the handles of the door, essentially locking them. As I had been saving the doctor, I had also been assessing the shifter’s magic level. I hadn’t detected magic, but a signal of power came through loud and clear.
The werelion sprang up, and before I had a chance to face him, he dug his paw into my shoulder. Four claws sank into my flesh and grabbed hold. It threw me toward the medical machines in the corner of the room. As I flew through the air, I could hear Gretchen screaming from outside, “If you break anything in there, it’s coming out of your pocket. The Pittsburgh Police will not pay for it.” I crashed into the machines, scattering them about the room.
The werelion pounded his chest and roared. The talking outside stopped and I could hear the beeping of the machines I had just been launched into. I threw the blood pressure machine off my chest and sprang to my feet.
I squared up with a werelion who stood about an inch shorter than me, but had obviously more power from what I had seen at that crime scene. I envisioned him wearing my intestines like a necklace. The tiny room worked to the advantage of the shifter.
I panicked, forgetting to use my magic. I lowered my shoulder,
took two mighty steps forward, and rammed into the firm midsection of the werelion. He didn’t budge.
For those who’ve never been in a life-or-death fight, once the adrenaline kicks in, you do things that don’t make sense. This had been one of those times.
He jammed his paws together like a club, raised them above his head, and came down on the small of my back with the impact of a sledgehammer. I dropped to my knees. I was going to die. My life was in the hands of a shifter that had already killed today.
When faced with death, the same rules applied. My heart was beating out of control and memories were like photographs falling off a shelf. I couldn’t quite see all the fluttering images before they hit the ground.
I don’t remember biting the werelion’s family jewels, and if you asked me, I’d probably deny it. But I had. Hard. I immediately hoped this would be the lowest I would ever sink in a fight as a painful yelp shifted into a brooding, rumbling roar.
Gretchen pounded on the door. “Merlino, what in God’s name is going on in there?”
I wished I could get the bed away from the door and let Gretchen in so she could shoot this werelion again.
The doctor kept pounding on the cabinet, but he was much safer in there so I tried to ignore him.
I thought I had enough time to get to my feet. I made it about three-quarters of the way up when the werelion swiped a backhand across my face. My neck spun around and I fell to the floor. This thing had power beyond the normal means of a shifter. Someone was controlling these shifters. Someone powerful.
The shifter attended to his bleeding anatomy and it bought me a few seconds. I took a deep breath and analyzed the air in the room. “Aer sit potentia. Praebueris fortitudinem. Aer sit potentia. Praebueris fortitudinem.”
Shifting Problems Page 5
