Shifter Wars: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 1)

by Kelly St Clare

  Because I rang my boss in Queen’s Way this morning to quit my reception job.

  Herc smiled. “I appreciate you asking, but it doesn’t.”

  “That laser tag feud is intense.”

  His expression was serious. “You could say that. But you haven’t grown up around it, and my biases aren’t your own.”

  True. “Part of me wants to be more involved in this game. I’m half scared and half curious.”

  He shook his head as Rhona looked in the top drawers of the bedside tables. “See how you settle in. Laser tag isn’t for everyone.”

  Was that a brush off? Seemed like one. Dang. Herc not wanting me on his team kind of hurt. Then again, did I really want to play?

  “Dad said your mum died recently,” Rhona said, flopping back on my bed. “How did she die?”

  Herc shot me a look. “Rhona.”

  “Bone cancer,” I replied calmly. “Any other questions?”

  She rolled to face me. “Yeah, this can’t be all your stuff.”

  “It’s not.”

  Rhona’s eyes gleamed. “Are you poor?”

  She wanted to test the boundaries with me? Why? She wasn’t like this last time. The only change between now and then was that I’d decided to stay.

  Did she feel threatened or think I was here for their wealth? There was a restrained anger to her that I felt deep in my soul.

  “Dirt poor,” I chirped. “Especially since I had to drive your friends around two days ago. Time to pay up.”

  Rhona frowned. “I planned to pay you.”

  Plans don’t pay bills. “Glad to hear it. What does your mum do?”

  Herc stilled, and Rhona sat.

  “My mother is dead,” she said coolly.

  Oops.

  Still. This wasn’t a battle I wanted to lose. “How did she die?”

  Rhona scowled. “None of your business.”

  “You just asked me the same question. Don’t tell me you’re the kind who can give but not take.”

  Fury painted her features, and I recognised it well. If her temper was anything like mine, the fallout would be all-consuming but quick.

  “I like to visualise smashing things when I’m mad, if that helps. Please don’t actually break anything.” I turned back to Herc.

  His eyes darted between us, slightly widened. The sight nearly made me laugh.

  “Oh, I wanted to grab the number of Mum’s friends off you, if that’s okay?” I asked.

  “Sure. That’s…” Herc snuck another look at his daughter.

  “Great.” I reached for a blueberry muffin and bit down. “Holy moly. Seriously good. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

  “It was one of your grandmother’s. Ragna never made them?”

  I lowered the muffin. “Mum wasn’t a baker.”

  “She used to bake all the time,” he said sadly.

  I stared at the muffin in my hand, and it came rushing back—the last name, the deception, the entire life that she’d had here and that she’d hidden so well.

  I had to know more.

  “I’d love to learn as much as I can about Mum.” I peered into his steady blue gaze.

  Rhona snorted, and I glanced to where she still sat, probably seething.

  “That’s funny to you? Don’t you have the same curiosity about your mother?” I asked.

  Her brows arched. “I know everything about my mother.”

  “That must be nice. Why is it funny that I don’t know much about mine? Doesn’t that make you sad on my behalf?”

  There weren’t many who could handle soft confrontation, and I could thank my mother for that lesson.

  Her face blanked.

  That’s what I thought. She didn’t have an answer.

  I had issues, but they didn’t manifest in the same way. To everyone else, she may seem like a bitch, but to me, she seemed deeply unhappy.

  In that, we were the same.

  “I don’t have any other cousins and no siblings,” I told her. “I’d like to spend time with you, and I hope that’s returned. If so, I’d prefer that time be pleasant, but you’re welcome to set whatever tone you like.”

  When I returned my attention to Herc, he seemed a little lost.

  He jerked as she stormed out and slammed the door. Was he pissed I gave Rhona the linguistic smackdown? Rhona could take or leave my offer. I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep. Though I really hoped she took it.

  When he faced me again, his mild expression had morphed to sharp focus.

  Interesting.

  “Are you serious about joining our laser tag team?” He walked to the window.

  The casualness of his question didn’t jive with the intensity of his posture. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

  “You know there’s far more to it than normal laser tag,” he continued, watching the busy street below.

  “You should know that I’ve never played laser tag in my life.” I wasn’t uncoordinated, but I’d never fired a gun, wrestled, or made anything other than a snare. Should I mention my Girl Guide sash?

  “Laser tag is one part of it. The game extends to real life too. If we bring you into this… I don’t want to say there’s no going back, but you should know the Luthers you work with may not take kindly to your participation.”

  If the situation were reversed, I was willing to bet the Thanas wouldn’t take it kindly either. If someone couldn’t like me because I played a game for the other side, they could get screwed.

  Though if I got sacked, that would be a problem.

  Hmm.

  “No one pulls shit outside of the game though, right? I mean, that’s the whole point of playing laser tag, to confine the family feud to a Wednesday night.”

  Maybe this wasn’t for me…

  “Absolutely. There are penalties for those who act outside the grids too. I just don’t want you to take the game lightly. It’s a very serious thing for those who play it. Once, it was a serious thing for your mother too.”

  That caught my attention. “It was?”

  “My sister was our star player.”

  My mother, running through the forest trapping people and kicking ass? I could totally imagine that. My smile faded. Only because of the way she used to yell and shout while gambling.

  Her addiction tainted so many memories. My heart squeezed to breaking point. “Please tell me you have photos.”

  “Plenty.” He assured me.

  Could I do that too? “Is there someone who’d show me how to play?”

  I understood what Herc was saying. Playing was a heavy commitment. I remembered the intense energy of the masked players in the forest. And the experience with Flannel Man had shown me the game could be scary.

  I also got what he didn’t say—don’t waste our time, but I could leave the game at any time. Plus, the players I saw ranged from mid-teens to at least sixty.

  My unlucky experience aside, the game couldn’t be that dangerous.

  Herc grimaced. “Actually, there’s a training programme.”

  Whoa.

  “I’ll let you think about it. Know this though. If you enter the game, you’ll learn things about yourself and the world. While that may seem overwhelming, I can promise that you’ll join a community who will have your back.”

  Yeah, that concept was almost off-putting. The idea of me, Andie Charise Booker, joining a community made me want to run for the hills. Not because I didn’t know myself. Because I did. This girl operated best alone.

  Of course, I needed people. Just enough to not feel lost and alone. Maybe this game, these people, could provide that enough.

  More to the point, this was an opportunity to know Mum better, and I didn’t really need to consider my options past that.

  But habit was a bitch.

  Buying Ella F would most likely remain my sole spontaneous choice for another twenty-one years. “Okay, I will. One question.”

  Herc turned from the window. “Anything.”

  “What changed your
mind just now?” I didn’t imagine that brush-off earlier.

  His gaze flicked to the door. “Rhona’s my heir. That’s an odd concept outside of these parts, but here that’s laden with responsibility. I’ve never seen someone stand up to my daughter and win. She needs that presence, whether she likes it or not. Since her mother’s death, I’ve struggled to reach her. Once, I might have pushed, but my past with Ragna taught me the stupidity of that approach. Sometimes, our loved ones don’t need us. They need someone else. You may be that person for Rhona.” His voice softened. “I hope she may be that person for you, too. There’s more strength when we stick together.”

  I checked out my outfit. A broad smile curved my lips, even torn between nerves and exhilaration as I was. I dabbed eyeshadow on, making sure my emerald eyes would be stark to all that glimpsed them.

  For my first night of work at The Dens, I’d settled on another secondhand score. The strapless, crimson dress clung to me until mid-thigh. Anything less and I worried the audience would get more of a show than they bargained for. I’d rarely been on stage in my life—not since high school when I’d done a few solos in the annual concerts.

  Gold spaghetti-strap heels decorated my feet—three inches, I wasn’t superwoman—a match for my eyeshadow and tassel earrings. A high and sleek ponytail completed the look after an hour spent straightening the mass of hair. Unfortunately, playing saxophone with hair down was a pain in the hole.

  I sashayed before the mirror, taking a deep breath. “Okay, Andie. You have one month to wow the crowd.”

  I wanted seventy bucks an hour, and Alarick clearly outlined the criteria for a pay rise.

  5:40 p.m.

  I took out my sax, running through some scales and a song. I spent the day learning a new piece and couldn’t wait to unleash it tonight.

  Cleaning out the bell and mouthpiece, I opted to hang the sax around my neck and carry my case and purse.

  Nerves twisted in my gut as I left the apartment. Mum would have loved this. She would have watched me every night, glaring daggers at anyone who didn’t clap.

  I bent my head to hide my grin from those milling around me.

  Reaching the club, I strode to the front of the queue. “Hey, Hairy.”

  The towering man was the tall and lean muscle type, unlike Leroy and Alarick. Seriously, why the hell was he called Hairy? His face, and what I could see of his chest, were as smooth as my legs after meticulous shaving. Was it an ironic thing?

  “Evening, gorgeous,” he murmured.

  “Good crowd tonight?” I’d never played for drunk people. I hoped they didn’t invade my personal space.

  Hairy caught my eye. “Don’t you worry about the crowd. The bouncers will keep an extra eye out for you. You’re going to kill it out there. I heard you playing the other day.”

  My shoulders relaxed at his words. “From all the way up here?”

  I guess sound carried. The valley was a natural amphitheatre.

  “You got this, Andie.” He drew back the cordon, and I slipped inside, moving to the bar. Mandy was on duty.

  “Hey, sexy,” she greeted, mixing a line of drinks. My eyes nearly crossed with her rapid movements. She made mixing look like a dance.

  A row of middle-aged guys sat before her, not bothering to hide their adoration. Couldn’t blame them, she was all classy rock goddess—short skirt, midriff off-the-shoulder top, and an array of tattoos and jewellery.

  “How’s the crowd tonight?” I asked her too.

  Sue me, I was nervous.

  “Before or after you showed up in that dress?” She slid me a water with a slice of lemon bobbing on top.

  I peered down. “Too much?”

  “Fucking perfect, I’d say.” She seemed amused.

  “Thanks. Where should I set up?”

  “Boss wants you to start in here, and head into the back room later. He was going to show you around before you started, but he must be held up somewhere.”

  She snickered, but I was too wound up for joking around.

  I followed her pointing finger. Across the plush floor filled with leather couches, low tables, and pendant lights, rested a small circle gold stage. Right in the middle of the club. Or this part of the club, apparently.

  The stage matched my outfit. Cute.

  If my music sucked, I could start stripping on it.

  I pulled my shoulders back, moving toward the low stage. There was a lull in the conversation of those close by as I stepped onto the gold platform—in my gold shoes. I’d get over the matching thing one day.

  A black stool sat in the middle.

  Unlike a corner stage, there was nothing to hide behind. I was on display from all angles. The ear and eye candy of the entire bar. The phrase unnerving as fuck came to mind. But my sax was here, and it wouldn’t fail me.

  I set my glass of water on the stool, placing my case beside it as I wet my reed again on autopilot.

  Act like you know what you’re doing.

  This was going to be such a high if I could channel my nerves into something constructive.

  I smiled at the nearest table. “How are you all doing tonight?”

  They chorused their answer in a wordless wave of approval.

  “I think that was good,” I replied with a wink.

  They laughed, and I felt my insides unclench a teensy amount.

  Here goes.

  Setting my top teeth in place on the mouthpiece, I drew air into my lower ribs. A new song by Duffy was my intended opening piece, but I’d officially chickened out. Something tried and true sounded better right now until I conquered the nerves.

  Warmth pulsed deep as I eased into the swooping dive of Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good”. I caught my throat tightening as conversation ceased to exist in the bar. Countering it, I loosened my body and settled into the classic piece. Playing this song was akin to sliding over silk sheets, but the euphoric composition meant so much more. No matter who covered it, the song spoke of freedom.

  Entering the second verse, my fingers flew through the familiar sequence and I swayed my hips, Nina’s hypnotic voice playing in my head.

  The last note was powerful, and I pulled in a large breath, holding the note strong and ending in a growl that caused an outbreak of appreciative murmurs.

  I opened my eyes, smiling at the rampant applause.

  Phew.

  Now to repeat that for three and a half hours.

  I launched into work, only stopping for sips of the water that magically topped up when I had my eyes closed. Luckily, I was an on-the-spot dancer because I liked to play with my eyes closed and falling off the stage would be fatally embarrassing.

  The patrons didn’t press in on my space, and the volume in the bar steadily increased as the night wound on. Was their respectfulness due to the bouncers watching my back or the strange undercurrent riding the club? There weren’t any rules plastered around the place. The vibe was seductive and enticing, but there was that subtle edge that spoke for what may happen to those who caused trouble.

  It added a darkness that only added to the sultry atmosphere.

  Was that Alarick’s doing or the bouncers? Had to be the bouncers because I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of my boss tonight.

  I checked my phone.

  Shit. Only thirty minutes left. My reception job dragged at half speed. This must be what a job of passion felt like.

  What if every night was like this?

  Maybe I’d give that new song a whirl after all. I’d need to get used to playing songs that I hadn’t practiced for months. I was proficient enough to embellish my way out of mistakes.

  “Excuse me,” a woman in a severely cut navy blue dress called over the noise.

  She reeked of money, and though she’d used manners, I had no doubt she expected my full attention.

  “Yes, ma’am?” I asked.

  She held a chute of champagne, but it was hard to spot through the dazzling light reflecting off her priceless rings and bracelets. �
�Are you here every night, darling?”

  “Thursday through Saturday, every week.”

  The woman smiled. “Good. I like the addition. I’ll be back.”

  Oh, cool. I’d live off her drop of praise until she gave me my next fix. “I’m glad to hear that, ma’am. Have a pleasant evening.”

  She held up a stack of red disks. “I will.”

  I froze, watching her leave. Those were… casino chips.

  “Andie?”

  Breaking out of my stupor, I looked at Dimples. Leroy, was it? “Yeah?”

  “There’s a guy at the bar. Says he knows you? He seems hopping mad.”

  Huh? I scanned the bar and swore under my breath. Fuck.

  Logan was here.

  “Want me to get rid of him?” Leroy asked.

  Ugh, Logan’s posture was rigid. Definitely pissed. He’d probably spent the entire drive down working himself into a rage.

  I pressed my lips together. “Nah, that’s okay. Sorry for the trouble though. You can tell Alarick it won’t happen again.”

  “Tell me what?”

  My eyes fluttered closed, just as they did when I played. I slanted a look over my shoulder. We were on eye level with me on stage and in heels.

  “My boyfriend is here,” I said, jerking my head. “He’s hurt after our phone call last night, but this is a one-off. I assure you.”

  A deep bass filled the air, and I twisted to find the sound.

  Those close by could hear it too.

  What the heck?

  Leroy gripped Alarick’s arm.

  The sound abruptly cut off.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  Alarick’s head was bowed, and with an angry snarl, he tore away, heading for the staff door

  I glanced at Dimples. “Was that anything to do with me?”

  “Yep.”

  What? “Is it my playing? I kind of need this job.”

  He grinned. “It’s his time of the month, so to speak.”

  I relaxed. “Good. Mandy said I was meant to move into another room halfway through my set, but time got away from me.”

  “Alarick decided to leave you where you were for tonight. He does want to show you around once you’re done. Give you the tour.”