Dead Shifter Walking (22 page)

“Yeah, well, don’t make me regret not doing it,”
I answered hotly, crossing my arms over my chest.

“We didn’t come here to fight,” Mal said, trying
to get through my thick skull.

“Then why are you here?” I asked, realizing they
knew something. “You need me,” I said, sitting in the flowered
chair with an annoyed thud.

“What happened?” I asked, turning to Blake.

“Gunner, he made a shocking discovery with the
DNA samples,” Blake said, turning a wary eye to his Master.

“Lovely, let’s go,” I said, standing.

Morgan growled, “He will only talk to you.”

“Huh, sounds like he’s smartening up nicely,” I
said, smirking. “I’ll expect you all to be gone when I return or
doing dishes.”

Tate cleared his throat. “We have Gunner at my
compound.”

“You kidnapped him?” I said in disbelief. “I’m
gone for less than a week, recovering from your fucked up plan to
gain information, and you idiots kidnap one of the best resources
you have found. Brilliant, just fucking brilliant. Not to mention
you are under tight scrutiny. Well let’s go kidnapping vampires,
lead on to the hostage,” I said, ushering them out.

Blake grabbed my hand, holding me from following
them out. “We’ll be right behind you,” he told them, not looking
away from me.

I waited until the door closed before asking,
“You okay?” after which I silently yelled at myself for even giving
a fuck.

He nodded, smoothing back a wild strand of hair,
worry clouding his features. “I could feel you, your pain,
frustration, but I couldn’t find you,” he whispered. “Do not do
that to me again.”

I looked away. “I’ll try.”

He pushed my chin up, his blue eyes searching my
own dark green ones. “Don’t do it again. I don’t care if you shut
the entire fucking world out, but not me.”

I nodded, it wasn’t a promise I could make; some
scars, some memories I could never share. He engulfed me in a hug
and I couldn’t help the small sigh that left my lips, being back in
his arms. After a brief kiss, we made our way out after the
others.

In the far back seat of the SUV, I contemplated
all that had happened. I had my mind hijacked by a dead shifter,
someone was using dark magic to animate said shifters, I had been
hired and fired as liaison between the police and the council. And
who could forget about Steven? I hadn’t.

Then there was Blake, a force I didn’t
understand, and that worried me. I had built and maintained
elaborate guards around my heart and emotions. Having another so
potentially close to both was unnerving. The realistic part of me
knew it wouldn’t last long; I was bound to screw it up one way or
the other, but that blasted hope gave us a chance at happiness.

I was stopped from entering the Centennial
Compound due to my excessive weapons collection.

“Sir,” the guard said uneasily to Tate, “she did
just try to kill you.”

“It was warranted,” I said loudly to everyone
listening. “And furthermore, if I decide one of you or all of you
need killing, I am perfectly capable of ripping off heads instead
of slicing them.”

“That was a bit over the top,” Mal whispered as
I was ushered through.

“Factual Mal, I deal in facts,” I answered,
taking in the numerous vampire eyes watching our descent into the
basement.

More guards greeting us before we were allowed
to see Gunnar; that is, before I was allowed to see Gunnar. I was
assuming the rest were watching the plush underground living room
from security cameras.

“Hi, Gunnar,” I greeted the overweight genius,
sitting down across from him on the paisley couch.

He smiled meekly, his arms wrapped around a
small terrified female. “They took us at dinner.”

I nodded. “They’re assholes, interrupting a
date”

“She needs medication to control her social
anxiety disorder,” he said, worriedly eyeballing my swords.

I nodded, leaning forward. “I can help,” I said,
reaching a hand out to her frail form. She flinched back.

I smiled. “What’s your name?” I asked, keeping
my hand out, non-threating.

“Cricket,” she chirped, peeking at me around
Gunnar’s massive arms.

“Nothing is going to happen to you while I am
here, Cricket. I guarantee it,” I reassured her, pushing all my
confidence into those words.

She nodded, leaning slightly away from Gunnar.
“Why do you want to touch me?” she asked warily.

“I can put people at ease sometimes,” I
answered, not sure how much of the supernatural Gunner had
enlightened her on.

After giving a long glance at Gunnar, who nodded
his head soundly, she reached out her fingertips, just brushing my
own. It was enough. I reached for her nervousness, fear, and
braided it down, compressing it.

She sighed audibly. “Wow, thanks! That’s better
than my meds.”

“No problem,” I answered, with a gentle
smile

“So, I hear you have made progress,” I said,
addressing Gunnar, clasping my hands in my lap.

He nodded. “Babe, wait in the room please.”

She left, casting a long look at what I hoped
was a genuine smile on my tense face. Once the door closed, he
leaned forward, his round glasses slipping down his equally round
face. “They were supercharged.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my
head.

“They were genetically predisposition to become
supernaturals, and my guess, judging from the tests I was able to
perform, is that, once they had changed into either shifter or
vampire, they would have been ahead of the pack in abilities.”

I sat there just staring at him for long moments
before asking, “Who were?”

“The children; it was present in the young ones,
but once puberty hit, their openness for change grew
exponentially,” he answered, pushing his glasses up as I sat back
in the couch, nodding.

“I really need to see that teacher,” I muttered
to myself.

Chapter 17

After personally dropping off Gunnar and Cricket
and seeing that they were compensated for their time under
lockdown, Blake, Tate, and I headed out to Mr. Davis’s residence in
hopes of finding out how our puppet master was able to locate the
children.

Gazing out the window in the back seat, my eyes
saw none of the beautiful countryside we traveled through as my
brain worked on theory after theory.

“Did you hear me, Olivia?” Tate asked, peering
behind at me.

“No,” I answered, still looking out the
window.

“I asked if you had heard from Mercer,” Tate
said.

Turning toward him, I shook my head. “No, not
since Blake and I saw him last. Why?”

Tate smiled, turning to look at me. “Apparently,
the Governor made an example of him, reprimanding him quite harshly
in front of all of his peers.”

“Why?” I asked, not following.

Blake looked at me from the rearview mirror.
“For breaking the arrangement with you,” he answered.

“I don’t see why it matters; I’m still working
the case,” I said, looking between both of them.

“Yes, but when that information went public, the
headlines put a great deal of bad publicity on the Governor and his
staff for not using all available means to track the killer.” Tate
smiled. “It gave us a bit of good press for once.”

“Needless to say, you probably have a few
messages from Mercer,” Blake informed me as I looked at my now
reassembled phone.

“Fuck,” I whispered as the tracker I had placed
on Steven’s phone lit up close to us.

“What?” Tate and Blake said in unison.

“The tracker I put on Steven’s car; he’s close,”
I answered, navigating the map, “less than a mile.”

“Do you want to follow him?” Blake asked as I
watched the red dot flashing furiously in front of me.

“No,” I said, sighing, “my personal vendettas
can’t get in the way of figuring out who the puppet master is now
that we have this lead.”

“Dammit,” I hissed, watching the dot disappear
off the screen. It only had a three-mile radius, and now the
bastard was gone yet again.

“We will get him, Olie,” Blake said as I scowled
at the guard gate we were passing through.

…

There are kills to send messages and there are
kills of necessary. What we were looking at in Mr. Davis’s home was
a kill of necessity. It was good news for us that we were making
the puppet master nervous, but bad news for Mr. Davis.

His front door was ajar when we entered and no
sign of forced entry, he knew his killer. The vampire’s smelled
death instantly; it took me a while longer. The kill was fresh.
Tate and Blake pulled in long breaths as they navigated through the
front room and into an office.

Mr. Davis sat back against his leather chair, a
single gunshot wound between his eyes. Thick, sticky blood dropped
out the back of what use to be his head.

Dialing Mercer’s number, he picked up on the
first ring. “Olivia,” he said awkwardly.

“We have another puppet master murder.” I
relayed the address, adding, “Hurry up, I can only keep the vamps
from investigating for so long,” before ending the call.

Sitting down on the steps outside, I was
grateful the sun was starting to set so I didn’t end up burned.
Tate and Blake sat next to me.

“Thoughts?” I asked, mulling over my own.

“We are getting closer,” Tate said as the dying
light illuminated his coffee eyes.

“I agree,” Blake added. “Do you think it is
strange that Steven was so close to here? The kill is fresh.”

He voiced my own thoughts. “I would love for him
to be involved, but I am also prejudiced in thinking he had a hand
in it.” Thinking about it more, I suggested aloud, “We could always
call Logan to confirm his whereabouts.”

Tate scoffed, “Sure, you two get along
wonderfully.”

“No, but poking at the hornets’ nest has yielded
results so far,” I answered with a shrug.

“Lions’ den,” Tate corrected. To my raised
eyebrow, he added, “Poking at the lions’ den has yielded results.
But be careful; they bite.”

I smiled, showing my flat teeth. “So do I.”

The silence stretched as I worried my bottom
lip, thinking of impossible scenarios that would involve Steven,
but all were heavily seeped in my deep prejudice against him and
held no merit.

Tate shifted as Blake stood stretching. “I’m
going to walk around.”

“Want me to come with?” I asked, leaning
forward, ready to stand.

“No,” he said with a smile, “I’ll yell if I
can’t kill it.”

“Ha, ha,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes as he
brushed my shoulder walking by.

Tate picked at the manicured lawn next to us on
the stairs, casting me long looks before I finally asked, “What,
Tate?”

“I am sorry for causing you unnecessary pain,
Olivia,” he said, watching me closely. Important facts to note: he
didn’t apologize for drugging me nor for attempting to extract
information against my will; he didn’t regret those items. But it
was more than I had gotten from the others, and, to be honest, I
liked Tate. He allowed those in his house more freedom than most. I
could appreciate that in a vampire.

“Apology accepted,” I said, looking back toward
the driveway before adding softly, “You could have just asked.”

He cleared his throat. “I was hoping you would
say that.” I should have seen that one coming.

“Ask away,” I said, leaning back against the
stairs, forcing myself to relax.

“What are the consequences of sleeping with
you?” he said warily, expecting one of my many blades on display to
carve a piece of him.

“A person who sleeps with a succubus or incubus
is bound to our emotions. The stronger the succ or incc, the
stronger the emotions are felt,” I answered, feeling Blake had told
him the same.

“And what if he no longer wants to feel
everything you do?” he asked leery.

I sighed. “Then no more sex,” I said, leaning
forward to watch Tate before adding, “Blake knows all of this. I
told him everything I know.”

He nodded, looking towards the blooming night
sky. “What will prolonged contact with you do to him? Will it hurt
him?” he asked, his eyes yellowing as he looked back at me.

I wanted to be angry, wanted to tell him it was
none of his fucking business, unless he was fucking me, but I
didn’t. He was Blake’s master and I certainly didn’t want to cause
problems for him or make additional messes he would have to clean
up. So, I put my big girl panties on, and, fuck, are they
uncomfortable!

“I don’t know what it will do to him; I don’t
believe he will suffer any ill effects. If I had, I wouldn’t have
slept with him,” I answered, remarkably surprised at my
maturity.

“He is family,” he said tensely, and I
understood, nodding.

“I won’t hurt him, Tate,” I said softly.

He shook his head, smiling. “You really haven’t
dated before, have you?”

“No, why?” I asked, suddenly very insecure.

“Have you ever been in love, Olivia?” Tate asked
me, still smiling to my scowl.

“No,” I responded tightly, quickly.

He nodded, now watching the full dark littered
with stars. “It’s a wonderful feeling, even if it is too
fleeting.”

I nodded, happy to see the lights of a vehicle
approaching. I wasn’t expecting the speed or the sudden stop that
had the gravel flying.

“Olivia, you are so fucking lucky I don’t know
your middle name,” said a very cranky Black man, throwing himself
out of the Beast, “or I would use it to scold you for your
disappearing act.”

“Hi, Jerry,” I said timidly. “Point of fact, I
don’t actually have a middle name.”

“Don’t you even think of giving me that line,”
he said, charging in front of the Beast to pull me standing,
followed by shaking me properly. “Do you have any idea how worried
we all were?”

I opened my mouth to answer but he charged right
along, “And leaving poor Blake; the man was damn near crazed
looking for you. And let’s not forget me,” he yelled.