Dead Shifter Walking (16 page)

Lifting my head, my eyes made contact with
Blake’s as he released my wrist, closing the bite marks. I was on
the ground in Blake’s room, watching him pant, which was odd for a
vampire.

Tate had deep cuts on his face that were healing
as he moved off me.

“What the fuck was that?” Tate asked, touching
his face gingerly.

I shuddered as I remembered. “I was wrong,” I
said, my voice scratchy from what must have been screaming. “It’s
not the killer who’s contacting me; it’s the shifters.” I sat up,
noticing my shirt was drenched in sweat.

Touching my face, I found my tears were real as
I blew out a shaky breath, sitting up. “It was awful,” I said,
shaking my head and trying to get my emotions in check. “I need to
talk with Logan. I’m hoping he will be able to identify the shifter
I saw reanimated.”

Blake moved into my line of vision. “Olivia,
biting you isn’t breaking the bond anymore, neither is hitting
you.” He settled back on his heels. “Cutting you was next on our
list.”

I nodded. “The one he called was more powerful
than the others. I think whoever is calling them is gaining
strength.”

Blake touched my face. “We cannot protect you
anymore.”

I laced my fingers with his. “I understand,” I
said, nodding and pulling myself up on shaky legs.

Tate supported me to the bed, sitting next to
me, his silence unnerving as he and Blake traded a look. Blake
crossed his arms, standing in front of me.

“Olivia,” Tate began. “You stopped
breathing.”

I nodded as he continued, “Is this really worth
your life?”

Shocked, I turned to Tate, saying, “Innocent
people are dying, families are being eliminated all because of some
psycho’s belief that he’s the ruling life form. Yes, it is
unequivocally worth my life.” I finished feeling steadier.
Softening my voice, I continued, “If you and Blake no longer wish
to help, since it’s a shifter matter, I understand.” I looked at
Blake. Vampires and shifters could exist peacefully; they just
typically didn’t. Neither was overly joyous to help the other.

Tate sighed, a very human action, and I returned
my attention to him. “I’ll have to speak with Morgan,” he said.

I nodded as he moved away, dialing his
phone.

“Regardless of the decision, I want you to stay
here, Olivia,” Blake said, regarding me with no humor.

“Are you sure it’s worth it?” I asked, mirroring
Tate’s questions with dismal humor.

“You’re worth it,” he said, his eyes never
leaving mine.

I nodded, giving him a slight smile, feeling a
little off balance by his words.

“I’m going to shower,” I said, standing up.

Blake nodded, walking me to the bathroom and
firmly closing the door behind me. Undressing, I slipped into the
hot water, letting my tears flow as the heat seared my body.

When I finally emerged from the steam, I found
the room empty. Dressing quickly in jeans and a royal blue shirt, I
texted Jerry, stating I needed to talk to him.

He responded that he was already downstairs.
Glowering at my phone, I raced to the conference room, finding it
deserted. Next, I tried the kitchen, which had donuts and toast
that I greedily scarfed, but still no Jerry.

I was rounding a corner when I heard voices,
which I followed to a formal-living room.

Tate, Morgan, and Blake were perched on a couch
together, while across the room, Darren and a man I assumed was
Logan were looking equally uncomfortable. Jerry and Mark were
leaning against the doorframe as I entered.

“Olie!” Jerry exclaimed, embracing me in a
hug.

“I’m okay, Jerry,” I said, pulling back,
noticing his sleep-deprived worry. “I need your help, though; I
need all information on how the undead can contact the Executioner.
I’m hoping Grams has some information on that.”

He nodded, heading out, opening his phone. Mark
touched my back and I turned toward him. “Glad you’re in once
piece,” he said and I gave him a small smile before he followed
Jerry out.

I turned to the rest, hands on my hips, ready to
give a hard-ass-play-nice speech, when my gaze locked on Logan and
all the air left my lungs.

I stood there, feeling my heart pounding
painfully in my chest before I was able to think about speaking.
“How is this possible?” I whispered, shaking my head and clenching
my eyes closed, certain I was imagining it.

Again, I looked at him, and he stood dressed in
a navy business suite and matching light blue shirt. He took a step
away from the couch towards me, mildly uncomfortable as he extended
his hand. “Olivia, I’m Logan. Thank you for agreeing to meet with
me.” I ignored his comment and his hand, stepping into his personal
space, inhaling the soft scent of the woodlands as I tipped his
chin up, checking his neck for the raw scar in my dream.

Touching his unblemished neck, I dimly noted
that Blake had stood a, restraining hand from Tate, keeping him
from intervening.

Logan’s skin was warm against my chilled fingers
as I backed away from him, wrapping my arms around my waist. Blake
sat back down as I blew out a breath.

My heart thudded in my chest as I pulled another
breath in, deeply gathering my thoughts. “Who do you look like?” I
asked softly.

Logan spared a glance to Darren behind him,
shifting his weight uncertainly and stowing his hands in his
pockets.

Closing my eyes, I tried to sound a little less
crazy. “Who do you look like that is dead?” I asked again.

Logan replied stiffly, “My grandfather.”

I nodded.

“Olivia,” Morgan stated leisurely, positioning
against the side of the plush couch, “we haven’t brought him up to
date yet.”

I scowled, about to smart off, when Morgan
continued, “We were just discussing the debt his fiancé owes.”

“Morgan,” I said, my voice deadly low, “I took
that debt.”

“Did you now?” he said, examining his cuticles,
feigning disinterest.

It was not a good day for Morgan to play games
with me. After that dream and between the deaths I had been
witnessing thrown together with not having killed anything in over
a week, he was treading on very thin ice.

I ground my teeth. “You are testing my
self-control,” I warned.

Darren looked properly worried, sitting forward.
“Olie, what happened?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

Blake answered for me, this power play pushing
my last nerves. “She dreamt of the killer reanimating a shifter who
apparently might be your grandfather.”

I blew out a breath, looking back to Logan and
the eerie similarities between him and his grandfather. His
expression was guarded, as he sat next to Darren and regarding me
warily “Why did you check my neck?” he asked softly. While he was
playing the same power games as the vamps, I didn’t doubt he could
take out a master vampire for a second. One doesn’t acquire power
in our world without being able to kill one’s enemies.

“He had a slash,” I said, my eyes clouding with
memories, “a scar across his chest, and a lion tattoo on his
thigh.” I ended, blinking back to the scene before me: vampire and
shifter pitted against each other.

Logan shared a look with Darren before pulling
out his cell phone and texting. Texting was smarter than an actual
conversation as the vamps would be able to hear both sides of the
conversation.

Looking back to me, setting his phone back in
his jacket pocked, he nodded. “I’ll have someone check his grave
site.”

A shudder raked through my body as I remembered
how ancient the trees were. “We need to know who knew about the
site, as well; from what I saw, it had magic of its own that was
violated.”

Logan looked at me, surprised. I shrugged before
turning as Jerry came in flustered, looking to the shifter and
vampire annoyances behind me.

“You’re not going to like this,” Jerry
stated.

“Worse than the pissing contest behind me?” I
asked, rolling my eyes.

Morgan cleared his throat, a pointless act,
since he didn’t breathe, while Darren coughed, covering up the
unexpected laugh at my comment.

Jerry glanced at the men behind me, uncertainty
flashing on his features, adjusting his tie nervously, before he
composed himself and his dark eyes returned to my own. “This might
be better outside.” I nodded, following him out. Jerry, wise to the
ways of vampire and shifter hearing, texted the information to my
phone.

The executioner can be called upon when there is
corruption or deceit in the dead’s own race, they will reach out to
the executioner in an attempt to right the wrong done to them.

I stared into Jerry’s dark depths, a sinking
feeling nestling in my chest. I turned back into the room. The
vampires were staring daggers at the two shifters who had their
attention on me. Although it was reassuring to know that leaving my
blood on the street after the hit and run, while stupid, was not
the cause of this current turmoil. I now had to deal with
corruption in the packs, which is not my job description. Rubbing
my temples I sighed, it didn’t matter, I needed to get whoever it
was off the streets and end the killing.

“Logan, we really need that list, please,” I
said softly, not liking the tension in the room.

“Blake,” I started equally as soft, “can you
give me a lift?”

Blake spared a look at the vampires on either
side of him before answering, “Gladly.”

I nodded. “Jerry, get Logan and Darren home
safely and get that list to me ASAP,” I said, deleting Jerry’s text
and striding to the kitchen for more food.

I turned, stuffing another donut into my mouth
to find Blake and Logan behind me, each looking slightly
uncomfortable.

“What?” I asked ungraciously around a
mouthful.

Blake’s light blue eyes met my own, annoyed,
before I turned to Logan’s caramel-colored eyes with a raised
eyebrow. He took a deep breath before beginning.

“Can you please tell me what happened at Flame?”
Logan said peacefully, settling on a bar stool next to me. His body
language screaming repressed anger.

I took another look at Blake, who shrugged,
moving behind me to the kitchen cabinets.

I swallowed my bite, my mouth feeling
uncomfortably dry. I pinched the bridge of my nose before adjusting
on the island stool. I did not want to have this conversation. I am
a fantastic killer, but I am horrible at tact.

“Logan,” I said, speaking his name as I drew my
eyes back to his, “are you certain you want the truth? I don’t
sugar coat.”

“I didn’t ask you to sugar coat it,” he
demanded. “I asked you politely to tell me what happened. I fail to
see the difficulty in that request.”

I turned, holding my donut up as I stood. “You
are so painfully correct.” Turning to Blake, I grinned evilly from
ear to ear. “Blake, darling, would you be so kind as to tell him in
detail how his fiancé broke supernatural rules.”

Blake smiled, grinning widely, his fangs
descended. “I would be honored, Olivia.”

Blake came around, resting his hands on my
shoulders as he brushed a delicate kiss against my cheekbone. With
a sinking feeling, I belatedly realized this may not have been my
best idea, but the demand for revenge in my chest pushed that
nagging conscience away.

Logan nodded, shifting his weight in his seat,
attempting to contain the frustration twitching in his jaw.

Blake began with what I was certain was a
devilish grin as I moved to get a drink of milk.

“Lorraine was divine, dancing seductively…” I
let Blake’s voice trail out of my consciousness, not wanting to
hear how alluring he found Logan’s fiancé. Not that it mattered;
hopefully there would be nothing but mind-blowing sex happening
between us.

Heaving a sigh, I turned around as Logan’s jaw
began ticking as Blake described the orgasmic experience of taking
her blood. I had to admit, he was a great storyteller.

Logan closed his eyes, clenching his fists. “I
wasn’t aware,” he said, meeting my own eyes again.

I grimaced with understanding; a painful truth
was better from someone you cared about than someone who would use
it as a point of contention. I could subdue his anger, braid it
down, even absorb it; but just because I had the ability, didn’t
mean I needed to exercise it on him.

“While we are on the subject of truths, fair
warning: Steven and I have a few issues to work out,” I said,
taking another bite of doughnut.

Logan’s shoulders readjusted as he also reached
for one. “I heard,” he said.

I smiled. Chocolate frosting dotting my teeth.
“Enjoy fishing your SUV from the river?”

Logan chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe I didn’t hear
about this.”

Raising an eyebrow, I continued around my next
chocolate-covered sprinkled bite. “You didn’t know he tried to take
me out in a T-bone accident?”

Logan ate the rest of his plain doughnut in one
bite before answering angrily, “No.”

“Well, you know now,” I said, raising my glass
of milk at him in a mock toast. “I will deal with him; it’s
personal now.”

He nodded. “Can I ask a favor, Olivia?”

I raised an eyebrow, finishing off my milk. “You
do mean another favor, correct?” I said with a smile to lessen the
insult.

He raked a hand through his hair, similar to
Darren. “Yes, another. Let me deal with Steven.”

I groaned, picking up another doughnut. “That’s
asking too much,” I said to the island, startling him by turning
back quickly, doughnut forgotten. “On one condition.”

He nodded, and I leaned in close.

“No more grief to Kass and Darren, and I won’t
kill Steven,” I stated, leaving out I reserved the right to beat
the everlasting hell out of him.

His eyes darkened before returning to their
normal color. He stood, adjusting his suit jacket, shaking his
head. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.” He
hesitated, leaning closer to me. “You don’t understand what you
have asked of me thus far.”