Shifter Crown: Valley of Truth and Denial (The Shifter Crown Series Book 1)

by Desni Dantone

  I freeze. “Hallucinations?”

  “From the dark magic. You were out of it for a while,” Luca recalls. “I had planned for you to shift, but there was no way you were going to be able to do it in that condition. All I could do, at that point, was stay with you and wait for the night to end.”

  “That was it?” I ask, skeptically. No . . . kissing and touching and naked time?

  “What exactly do you—” His eyes suddenly widen with a mischievous glint. “Oh.”

  “Don’t ‘oh’ me with a grin on your face,” I grumble.

  “All this time, you thought—” His head tips back and he laughs.

  “It was nothing.” I wave dismissively in an attempt to sweep the whole thing under the rug.

  Of course, Luca is not as eager to let this go.

  He grins at the ceiling. “What I wouldn’t give to know what your imagination came up.”

  “My imagination?” I scoff. “I was high on dark magic. Don’t flatter yourself.”

  He turns to me with a broad smile on his face that is not going anywhere anytime soon. His gaze locks on mine, and I can’t look away—even in the face of humiliation.

  I roll my eyes. “Stop smiling.”

  He tries—and fails. “Any other dreams you want to run by me?”

  “No. Thank you. I think we’re good for now.”

  “Just trying to help.” He chuckles.

  “You’ve done enough.”

  He’s confirmed that my memories are trying to find their way back. Even if Luca learned more than I wish he had about the thoughts in my head, I am excited.

  So excited that I even laugh a little with Luca.

  My humor dries up quickly when my phone dings from somewhere under the pile of shredded clothes on the other side of the room. My stomach drops as I approach the mangled mess and start to sift through it. When I find my phone, I read the short message I received thirty seconds ago.

  It’s only three words, but it packs a punch.

  Get home now

  “Oh, shit.”

  “What is it?” Luca asks.

  “It’s my dad.” I turn to Luca with a grimace. “I’m dead.

  Chapter 23

  Grounding, as my dad sees fit, is comparable to solitary confinement with three square meals a day. No television, no phone, and, worst of all, no books. My dad knows how to hit me where it hurts the most. I am dangerously close to jumping out my second-story window by the next afternoon—a measly two days into my punishment.

  My lucky break comes when Danny calls the house to ask if I can come in on my scheduled day off. Someone didn’t show for their shift, and he’s desperate. Dad agrees to release me temporarily, under one condition. No detours, neither to or from, the campground.

  Of course, I agree. He doesn’t have to know that I stop at the intersection at the end of our road a little longer than necessary, and he most definitely doesn’t have to know that Luca gets in my car.

  I’m still following Dad’s rules. Technically.

  It’s not my fault that I’m under attack from the small army of shifters that have descended on Castien Valley. Dad should be relieved that Luca refuses to allow me out of his sight. I should be, too, but it’s hard to be grateful when he expends so much of his energy on getting under my skin.

  Something he easily manages to do during the ten-minute car ride to the campground.

  “Keep your distance,” I remind him the moment I park in the employee lot behind the office. “I don’t need Danny asking questions.”

  Luca gets out of the car with a smirk. “Only because you don’t want to answer them.”

  I give him a dry look over the hood. “You’re absolutely right. I can admit it.”

  He peers at me with an expression that is a cross between exasperation and contemplation. After a moment, his lips curve into a reluctant smile. “What time will you be done?”

  I shrug. “Danny said he’ll probably need me until around eight, but he’s not sure. Could be earlier.”

  “I’ll be around,” Luca starts. When I open my mouth to protest, he adds, “You won’t see me. I just want you to know that I won’t be far.”

  “Promise?”

  “Which part?” He winks. “That I won’t go far?”

  “Never mind,” I grumble as I walk away from him.

  “You don’t ever have to doubt that,” he calls after me.

  I spin around and walk backward. “I don’t.”

  “Good.” Luca beams.

  I practically bounce the rest of the way to the office. The impact of Luca’s smile lingers long after I shut the door behind me, and I feel as if I am floating on clouds when I clock in for my shift. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, one of many that Luca has induced, but I like it.

  As curious as I am to discover the new and exciting feelings he stirs up, I have to focus on work. There will be plenty of time to study the effects of Luca’s actions on my body later, after I finish the sentence my dad handed me. That includes not flaking on the job.

  True to his word, Luca is gone when I walk out of the office. I see no sign of him as I hike up the grassy knoll toward the Paint Gun Battle Zone, where Danny said he needed me.

  At the top of the hill is a huge circus tent, with old tires, metal sheets, hollowed-out cars, and handcrafted shacks strategically placed throughout to create Hilderness’s version of an urban warzone. At the entrance is a wooden table supporting a portable cash register. Danny stands there now, with at least two dozen campers waiting in line.

  I can’t help but grin at the flustered look on his face as he fumbles with the cash register.

  Someone screams.

  I jump and spin around. My gaze immediately searches the parking lot and surrounding area for Luca, but he isn’t there.

  There is another shrill noise—now behind me. It takes me an embarrassingly long time to realize the screams are coming from inside the tent. They are joined by laughter and squeals from the group currently in battle.

  “Get a grip, Sav,” I mutter under my breath. I paste on a smile before I approach Danny. “Hey, boss. I’m here and ready to help.”

  “Oh, thank God.” He rounds the table and places both hands on my shoulders with a dramatic sigh. “I’m sorry to ask you to work on your day off, but you are a lifesaver.”

  I shrug. “It’s either this or stare at the wall inside my room for the next five hours.”

  “Huh?” Danny’s brows furrow.

  “Nothing. What do you want me to do?”

  “Get them registered”—Danny waves a hand at a family of six waiting patiently—“while I get the next party prepped.”

  “Got it.”

  I settle in behind the cash register as Danny takes a group of teens into the “dressing area” to be equipped with their paintball guns and protective gear. A scream rises somewhere in the distance as a redheaded woman hands me a crisp hundred-dollar bill.

  My head whips up, and I zero in on the nearest loop of RV trailers. Campers move around their sites, clearing their dinners and starting their evening campfires. Some kids play tag in the clearing. No signs of panic or danger.

  I look at the woman across from me, but she doesn’t appear concerned.

  “It’s fifteen per person, right?” She smiles faintly.

  “Right.” I open the cash register and count out her change with a shake of my head.

  A group comes out of the tent, laughing and raving about the fun they had inside. Danny sends the next group in. I hand the redhead a ten and take her and her family to get geared up. The line moves along smoothly. Half an hour later, we’re caught up.

  Danny leans against the table with a sigh. “Thanks again for coming in on such short notice. I couldn’t have done all of this without you.”

  “Happy to help,” I tell him. “I would be grounded otherwise, so the decision to come in was an easy one to make.”

  “Uh-oh. What did you do?”

  I shrug to downplay my offens
e. “Missed curfew a few nights ago.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you.” Danny eyes me peculiarly. “That new boyfriend isn’t a bad influence, is he?”

  My mouth instinctively drops open, but I stop short of correcting Danny. Luca isn’t exactly my boyfriend, but there is something between us. I may not know what it is yet, but it’s enough to give me pause.

  My hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “Is it still complicated?” Danny grins.

  “You could say that,” I answer honestly.

  Someone shrieks like they are falling to their death from the top of the mountain. It comes from inside the tent, but I still jump. Danny laughs, and I play it off as a silly case of the jitters. I keep it together despite the heavy wave of unease that washes over me. My skin itches with trepidation, like my body knows something is wrong . . . somewhere. The answer isn’t obvious.

  All I know is that my instincts are screaming at me right now. It’s like shifting kicked something inside of me into a whole other gear. I have never felt this alert. This . . . ready. For what, I don’t know yet.

  There are too many distractions. Danny chattering in my ear. Some kids waiting in line play-fighting with sticks. Even the gentle breeze tossing my hair around my shoulders is disrupting my ability to focus.

  To make matters worse, a shaggy dog appears at my side and starts to yap at my feet. I press my hands to my ears, but I feel every one of the dog’s high-pitched barks deep in my bones. There is no ignoring it.

  “Friend of yours?” Danny bends down to pet the dog, but he dances out of reach.

  He barks again. Louder.

  “Actually . . .” I peer down at the mutt, struck by a vague recognition. “I think I’ve seen him around before.”

  I recognize his shaggy, gray fur. He was there the night the raptors attacked, yapping just like he is now.

  What is he doing at the campground?

  The campers waiting in line look at me like I am responsible for the unwelcome disturbance. Their stares make me feel as if I am standing naked under a spotlight. I sense their disapproval as easily as I can hear their annoyed grumbles. I try to shoo the dog away, but he doesn’t go anywhere. He barks incessantly.

  My head snaps up when I hear a shrill cry in the distance. I spot a group of kids running from the direction of the tent campsites. I think maybe they are playing, but it’s harder than it should be to recognize the difference between fun and fear.

  My ears burn from sensory overload and I can’t be sure what is happening around me. The campers in line shuffle restlessly, as if they too can feel the sudden heaviness in the air.

  Something is happening.

  Something is coming.

  The current paintball gun battle ends, and the group files out of the tent to remove their gear and return their weapons. While they do, a couple more screams erupt from somewhere in the campground. I can’t discern how far away the source, or whether they are out of excitement or something ominous.

  Then I hear the unmistakable howl of a wolf, and I know the answer. Dread settles in my gut as the dog yaps louder and more persistently.

  The group prepared to go into the battle zone starts to remove their gear. The campers still waiting in line disperse. Mothers hold their children’s hands as they descend the hill to make their way back to their campsites. Everyone’s eyes shift around uneasily.

  “Refund these people their money,” Danny instructs me calmly with a nod at the group hanging up their guns and gear. “I need to get to the office and contact the game commission. That sounded too much like a wolf . . .”

  I know, for a fact, that it was a wolf. More precisely, a wolf shifter. What I don’t know is if it is a friend or a foe. Either way, the campers need to be protected. Danny has a job to do.

  “Go,” I tell him. “I’ve got this.”

  “Finish up here, and come to the office. Everyone should be inside until we get this sorted out.” Turning to the remaining campers, he adds, “We’ll get the situation under control soon. Until then, I suggest you take shelter in the restaurant, or your trailer if you have one.”

  Danny hustles down the hill, leaving me with the antsy group still waiting on their refund. My hands tremble as I count out the cash and hand it to them. I’m not entirely sure I count it correctly, but no one bothers to double check my math before they bolt.

  Once the last camper is out of earshot, I whip around to glare at the dog that won’t stop barking. “Oh, shut up!”

  He lies on his belly in the grass with a whimper. I am rewarded with silence for two whole seconds before he starts yapping again.

  I put my hands to my ears with a groan. “What is wrong with you? What do you want?”

  The dog spins in a circle like it’s chasing its tail. Only it’s not.

  “You know what’s up, don’t you?” I narrow my eyes suspiciously at him. “You sense something is wrong, same as I do.”

  He whines, and for a moment I think he’s kind of a cute little thing. Then he starts barking again.

  “Something is going to happen.” I nod as if I am agreeing with the dog. “But what?”

  The question no sooner leaves my mouth when I get my answer.

  Something moves in the trees. It’s big and brown and fast. It’s not a normal bear, as everyone assumes. It’s a shifter—the same one that nearly killed Luca. It’s back.

  The campers see it when it clears the trees and bursts into the field. They race down the hill in a flurry of panic, but they are not in danger. The bear has one target, and that is me.

  I dart around the table and take two steps toward the safety of the office before I realize I will never make it. I’m too far away, and the bear is too fast.

  I look to the left, at the big brown killing machine barreling down on me. Then to the right, toward the tent. Hiding is my only hope.

  I push open the flaps and hurry past the assortment of combat gear and paintball guns that are all worthless to me. The dog follows, barking like he’s rabid. He stops to spin in circles near the entrance while I duck behind a stack of old tires.

  I know the instant the bear comes inside. Not only does the dog go even more insane, but I feel it.

  My senses spark to life, crisper than ever. My vision adjusts to the strategically poor lighting inside the tent, and my ears pick up the clicking of the bear’s claws on the ground as it moves toward my hiding spot. The tension holding my body hostage releases, leaving me loose and ready to fight for my life.

  I inch away from the wall of tires separating me from the shifter, angling in the direction of the nearest shack. It’s not exactly built to code, and I have doubts about its ability to withstand an assault by a two-thousand-pound monster, but it is the only shelter available to me at the moment. I tiptoe around the stilts holding it up, looking for a narrow space to crawl into. My forehead cracks into a low-hanging sheet of metal before I see it.

  The bear growls. The little dog yaps faster and louder.

  I glance over my shoulder just in time to see him lunge at the bear. It goes about as well as I expect, with the dog being launched to the far side of the tent. He crashes into a wall of milk crates and disappears from sight.

  The bear charges.

  I run to the nearest ladder with vertical access. Of course, it’s a rope ladder specifically designed to make climbing difficult. It bends and twists beneath me. My arms and legs tremble with each carefully placed step I take. One foot after the other. Finally, I pull myself through the hole in the floor of the level above me.

  Four walls surround me, but I’m not safe. Not up against this shifter.

  It lifts onto its hind legs to easily reach my new hiding spot. Its snout pushes through the gap at my feet, and it snaps its sharp teeth. I jump out of reach, but the room doesn’t afford much space. A clawed paw can possibly reach me no matter where I stand.

  It pulls its head out of the hole in the floor. Tense seconds tick by in eerie silence as I wait for the n
ext round of attack. I am not lulled into a false sense of security. I know something else is coming, and I hate not being able to see the shifter to know what it is doing.

  The shack wobbles slightly. I press my palms to the wall in anticipation. Then all of hell breaks loose.

  The structure rocks back and forth violently. Wood splinters and metal snaps. Beneath me, above me, all around me. It doesn’t stop. Piece by piece, the shack crumbles under the power of the shifter’s assault, and the entire thing crashes down with me inside of it.

  I plummet to the ground under a pile of metal and wood—but not enough of it. I wish I was buried under a whole mountain of debris because the alternative is so much worse. I watch through a gap above my head as the bear draws closer, head rolling back and forth as it easily sniffs me out. Metal crunches under its weight and its heavy breath prickles my ear, immobilizing me with cold fear.

  I’m done. There is no getting out of this.

  Just as I give up hope, the little dog races onto the scene with an authoritative yap. The bear turns away from me with a huff and swings a giant paw full of sharp claws. The dog manages to dance out of reach, taunting the beast a thousand times his size. He distracts the bear just enough to give me a chance.

  I push chunks of debris off of me while the bear has its backside turned. And then I run.

  I know I won’t get far. I have to fight back.

  I spin around, frantically searching for anything that can be used as a weapon. Hilderness did too good of a job making this place secure for campers because there isn’t a damn thing lying around to help me now. The closest thing I can find is the rusted tailpipe of a hollowed-out car, but I can’t break it off.

  I stand and kick it. The metal bends but doesn’t snap.

  I kick at it again. And again.

  Nothing.

  The dog whimpers. I peek over the roof of the car as the bear growls, long and victoriously. Its mammoth head swivels in my direction.

  I abandon the tailpipe. The bear charges as I crawl through the open window of the car. It takes a swipe at my legs as I throw myself into what was once the back seat. The actual seat is gone, and I land hard on a bed of lumpy, welded-together steel.