by Jenn Burke
“I—Huh. It hadn’t occurred to me, no.”
“I’m pretty good at knowing when someone’s feeding me bull—uh, poop,” Hudson said, glancing at Sam. “I didn’t get that sense from her.”
Not that he was the most objective when it came to Priya. But I didn’t bother to point that out—there was no use sparking an argument.
“Maybe I should call Lance.” Hudson looked at me, uncertainty shining in his eyes. “You think?”
“I don’t think it could hurt,” I said. “Have you talked to him recently?”
“Not since Christmas.” Hudson grimaced. Yeah, a lot had happened since last Christmas, not the least of which was his house burning down and us moving in together. “Shit—I don’t think I even let him know I don’t have a landline anymore.” He dug out his phone and headed for the office to make the call.
“So what’s your plan today?” I asked Lexi.
She leaned against the counter as the machine hissed and spurted, and nodded at Sam. “I’m going to take a picture of her clan mark and see if anyone recognizes it on the TWW.”
The TechnoWitchWeb was like the dark web, except with fewer bomb recipes and more magic rituals. It was Lexi’s favorite place to play online, and one where she could get lost for hours in research.
“Once we know what clan she belongs to, we’ll be able to figure out who she is.”
“I’m right here,” Sam said, pausing in licking her plate.
“Humans don’t lick plates.”
“Humans waste food, then.” She held up her plate. “See? Nothing wasted.”
“Are you still hungry?” I asked.
Sam’s eyes lit up.
“Go look in the fridge.”
She jumped up and beelined for the appliance, while I hopped off my stool and went to stand beside Lexi. “How likely is it that you think we’ll find her family?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Shifter clans are pretty insular.”
“Maybe I’ll show the picture to the Garcias too then.”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
I looked over at the sound of Hudson’s heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen—which was weird. Normally he walked on catlike feet. But the shell-shocked expression on his face explained why his predatory grace was suddenly missing.
“What?” I demanded.
“Lance, he—” Hudson inhaled deeply, and even Sam stopped her foraging in the fridge. “He tried to reach me last February.” Back when everything had gone down with the ghosts and the revenant, and me fucking up the veil between planes. Hudson had been a little distracted by his house blowing up. “He wanted to let me know that Priya’s dead.”
Chapter Eight
I was quiet for a moment, but I couldn’t stop my incredulity from bursting forth. “Then who the hell was staying in our guest apartment?”
“I don’t know!” Hudson thrust his phone at me. “This is the picture he sent me of her. It looks like her, doesn’t it?”
I took the phone and examined the picture. It was Priya—minus the undercut on the right side. “It does.”
“So what the hell?” Hudson yelled.
“Why are you yelling at me?”
“Because I don’t know what the fuck is going on!”
“Language!” Lexi reminded him.
“Hey, I can say fuck with the best of them,” Sam pointed out, shoving a handful of... I don’t even know what in her mouth. Yogurt?
Lexi narrowed her eyes. “You,” she said, pointing at Sam, “spoon. You—” she turned her glare on Hudson “—calm the hell down and stop yelling. And you—” turning to me “—stop.”
I lifted my hands. “What’d I do?”
“We’ve got things in front of us—” she directed her eyes at Sam, who was now, thankfully, using a spoon to eat the yogurt straight out of the container instead of her fingers “—we need to worry about. I’m sorry someone took advantage of you, Hud, but let’s focus, okay?”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I know. I just—I—” He thrust his hand down hard to his side and marched out of the room.
I cast a glance at Lexi before trotting after him. I found him on the back patio, staring at nothing. Despite the sun, there was a definite bite to the air that hadn’t been there a few days ago, a reminder that winter was closer than it seemed. The neighborhood was quiet, something I was still getting used to—not that my old apartment building or Hudson’s house had been in raucous areas, but the streets had definitely been busier than in Bridle Path.
I didn’t hesitate to place my hand at the small of his back and lean into him. His arm draped over my shoulders and pulled me close, an automatic gesture that warmed me from my head to my toes. It was so natural, so effortless, like we’d finally found our stride as a couple.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
“Not really.” A sigh shuddered through him. “Feeling kind of stupid at the moment, actually.”
“Why?”
He looked down at me while I angled my head up. “Why? Because I got taken. I’m a cop—ex-cop—and I got taken.”
“She didn’t take anything.”
“Nothing physical, maybe.” He returned his attention to the backyard. It was a huge lot we’d secured, completely private, with trees of all sizes and shrubs and flower gardens I needed to take better care of. “But I thought—It’s so stupid.”
I nudged him. “What?”
He was quiet for a bit, and I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But finally, he seemed to get his thoughts in order. “Everyone is here because of you.”
“I’m not following.”
“Lexi is your best friend. Iskander was your client. Evan—”
“I will only accept partial blame for Evan.”
“No, I mean—yeah, I made him, but he’s here because you took the time to look after him and kicked my ass until I started acting like a sire should.”
“Okay.” I drew out the word, trying to figure out where he was going with this, but I was drawing a blank.
“I wanted to bring someone into our family too,” he said quickly, then huffed out a breath. “I wanted to contribute.”
I let his words sink in...then pulled away and smacked his arm.
“Ow!” It was an exclamation born more of surprise than pain, because the man had arms like concrete. “What the hell was that for?”
“For being a fucking idiot,” I growled. “If you think anyone in this house doesn’t care and love you the same as they do me, you’re blind.”
“I’m not—”
“Blind and stupid.”
“Wes—”
“Blind and stupid and—and stupid!”
“You already said that.”
“It deserves to be emphasized. When I was in the beyond—” three horrible weeks of separation I never wanted to experience again “—did they abandon you?”
Hudson frowned. “No, but—”
“There’s no ‘but’ about it. They looked after you. They helped keep you going.” I knew all of this, because Lexi had filled me in once Hudson and I had come up for air after reestablishing our relationship and solidifying this vampire-married mate-bond thing. “So don’t tell me that they’re only here because of me. I might have been the catalyst, but this is your band. Our family.”
“Is it so wrong to want some of my blood family in it?”
“God, no. But adding Priya to our band wouldn’t have made it better because she was your blood relative—she would have enriched us because of who she is. Or, uh...” I grimaced. “Who she seemed to be?”
“I don’t understand, though. How would someone even consider stealing her identity and appearance? Why would she come here, of all places?”
They were both good questions, and Hudson kne
w as well as I did that now that she was gone, we would probably never get answers.
* * *
I lured Juanita and Victor over that evening with the promise of a barbecue. That’s what I led with when I called them, anyway, but what swayed them was my request for help. We had a teenage shifter working her way through our fridge and cupboards as though eating everything in sight would cure her amnesia, and a surly private investigator who didn’t want to be a shifter, but who was going to have to learn to be one, damn it.
I figured we could probably use some help there.
Victor and Sam had taken Iskander well away from the fairy lights surrounding the patio. I couldn’t see the trio anymore, but Evan was standing at the edge of the interlocking brick, watching the darkness intently. Hudson had already spoken to him, a few quiet words that Evan hadn’t liked, but he hadn’t ventured into the darkness to get involved with whatever shifter lesson was happening out there.
Juanita sat in the Muskoka chair beside mine, while Hudson grilled steaks and burgers. Lexi had set herself up as a quasi-bartender and was serving up beer—mostly to herself and Hudson, since the rest of us either weren’t drinking, or had better taste.
I balanced my wineglass on one of the wide arms of the chair and produced my phone. It had the picture we’d taken earlier of Sam’s mark open on the screen, and I handed it over to Juanita. “Do you recognize that one?”
To her credit, Juanita looked at it for a long time, tilting it to get different angles, but eventually she shook her head. “No. The clans don’t communicate as much as we should.”
Well, that would have been too easy, wouldn’t it? I held in my sigh and took back my phone. “Worth a shot. I appreciate you both coming by tonight.”
“We couldn’t refuse.”
My brows lifted. “Oh, yes you can. Don’t ever think you have to—”
“Oh, no. No, no, no.” She let out a little chuckle, and I had the sense that if her heart wasn’t so heavy, it might have been a hearty, robust laugh instead. “I meant it was good for us to have a reason to get out. To be...away.”
I reached out and she immediately shifted her wineglass to her other hand so she could grab mine. “Talk to me about shifters. I want to learn.”
And, surprisingly, I did. Up until a year ago, I’d hidden my head in the proverbial sand when it came to the paranormal. I knew about me, and I knew about witches, and I suspected there were other things out there, but I refused to truly educate myself. But now... I wanted to know. Sometimes the knowledge wasn’t good—okay, a lot of the time it wasn’t. I could have gone another ten lifetimes without knowing about demons or revenants. Shifters, though?
They were kind of cool.
“Shifters live in clans,” Juanita started, then paused before amending, “Mostly. Obviously Victor and I don’t.”
“Why is that?”
“Living in the country with one of our clans wasn’t for us.” She sipped her wine. “Victor wanted to be a welder and I wanted to run my own business.”
“Fair enough.”
“So we moved to the city. Technically, we’re still part of our clans, which is why we carry their marks, but we don’t often go home. And now...” Her voice trailed off.
I could only imagine how difficult it would be to go home and see other families and relatives that hadn’t been devastated by tragedy, and face their judgment—because of course they’d judge. That’s what people did.
“Would a clan ever throw someone out?”
“Only if they endangered the clan, and never children,” she assured me. “Sam wasn’t abandoned or forced out.”
“Then how did she end up here?”
“Runaway?”
“So she’s pretending not to remember?”
“That, I don’t know. It’s possible that if she was in her animal form for too long, it could have affected her as a human.”
Which was pretty much in line with what Dr. Kozlow had advised. “What about shifter clans in the city?”
Juanita grimaced.
“Uh oh,” I said. “That’s not a good expression.”
“I need more wine.”
I retrieved the bottle from the cooler and refilled our glasses. Hudson informed me that the steaks were ready, then whistled at Evan to get his attention so he could set the table. It was chilly with the sun down, but only Lexi and I seemed to notice, and it was an easy problem to fix with a sweater.
We didn’t actually return to the conversation until everyone was seated around the table and digging into the steaks and hamburgers and baked potatoes. I’d made a salad earlier, but none of the carnivores seemed to want any. Whatever, more for Lexi and me.
“Shifters in the city,” Juanita said. Beside her, Victor made a sour expression eerily similar to her earlier one. “That’s a complicated topic.”
“How so?” Hudson asked.
“There are no territorial claims in Toronto,” Victor said. “Too many humans, too little privacy. The last clans were bought out a few generations back.”
“So historically there were claims, but what, the alphas sold their land?” Evan guessed.
“We don’t call them alphas—they’re clan leaders—but yes, essentially. Some of those clans resettled elsewhere, some were absorbed into other clans, and some were mostly gone anyway.”
“What it’s done, though, is create something of a vacuum,” Juanita explained. “Or a...a free-for-all.”
Hudson nodded thoughtfully. “Because no one’s in charge.”
“Exactly. There are shifters in Toronto—a lot of them—but no authority to keep them in line. Not that a firm hand is usually needed. Most shifters only want to live quiet lives, keeping to themselves.”
“But there are some that are a problem,” Victor acknowledged. “I’ve heard rumors about a quasi-clan who are more of a gang than anything else.”
Juanita turned her attention to her steak, carving off a slice with more prejudice than was warranted. “They’re only rumors.”
“But maybe they’re not,” Victor reasoned, rubbing her shoulder. “I’ve heard that this gang is involved in drugs, and that there’s another group in town who wants them gone.”
“What’s the other group?”
“I don’t know.”
Juanita huffed. “It’s too vague. It’s not helpful—”
“Actually, anything helps, at this point,” Hudson said, shooting her a small grin. “The more information the better.”
A snarl from the other end of the table grabbed my attention. My jaw dropped as Iskander hunched over his steak, his lip curled up to bare his teeth. His, uh, sharp, pointy teeth.
Oh.
Sam encroached on his space, her eyes darting toward the meat he was protecting. Evan watched the two of them, frozen, stunned—which I could empathize with. It was beyond strange to see Iskander acting like that.
“Sam!” Juanita snapped. “You can’t have Iskander’s steak.”
Sam leaned back slightly, sulking. “But I’m still hungry and he’s eating too slow.”
“We don’t steal food,” Lexi said. “If you want more, you can ask the cook.”
“Oh.” Sam smiled sweetly at Hudson. “Can I have more?”
Juanita cleared her throat.
“What now?” Sam groaned.
“Manners.”
“Man—oh, right.” She blinked her wide hazel eyes. “Please.”
“You can have a hamburger.”
“I don’t want a bun. And I want two patties.”
Hudson glanced at me—why, I had no idea. I didn’t know what little shifters should eat. Luckily Juanita came to our rescue. “One patty and some salad.”
Sam scrunched up her nose. “Salad?” she whined.
“Or nothing.”
“Ugh, fine.”
Hudson got up to help her get seconds, and I looked at Iskander. He had stopped snarling and looked more shell-shocked than anything. “That’s not me,” he whispered. I wasn’t sure he intended anyone to hear him, but we all did, supernatural hearing or not.
“Remember what I said out there?” Victor’s voice was low and pitched to soothe. “It is you. The magic isn’t a separate entity. Your beast isn’t foreign to you, as much as it feels like it is right now. You learned how to control your temper, and you’ll learn how to control your beast.”
Iskander pushed his food away, but Evan pulled the plate right back in front of him. “You need to eat.”
“I don’t want to!” Iskander shoved it away again, this time hard enough for the plate to crash into Evan’s and tip into Evan’s lap. “Oh, my—Shit. I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what the hell is wrong with—”
Evan grabbed Iskander’s hand. “You’re fine.”
“I’m not. I—” When Iskander looked up, tears glittered in his eyes. For a man who prided himself on his control, this volatility had to be frustrating and demoralizing. He stood up quickly, knocking over his chair, and jerked his hand out of Evan’s grasp. “I need to...”
He didn’t finish his sentence but retreated into the house.
Juanita sighed. “It’s tough for bitten shifters,” she said, her voice kind. “He’ll get past this hump and settle down.”
“I know he will.” Evan reached up and grabbed the opal pendant he always wore—a magical artifact Dr. Kozlow had prescribed along with medication to help control his depression.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” His smile was quick and strong, but faded fast, and he scooped up the mess of food in his lap. “Excuse me. I’m going to... I’m just going to go.”
“Ev—”
Evan waved a hand at Hudson’s call but didn’t stop to reply.
“Well.” Lexi looked around at all of us and sighed. “That was fun.”
A voice drifted into the backyard. “Hello? Mr. Cooper? Mr. Rojas?”
