Dead Shifter Walking (27 page)

“Logan, kick her ass!” she screamed, sandwiched
between two beefy shifters, who didn’t appear thrilled about
guarding her.

Slowly, with ample amounts of groaning and more
than a few of my favorite curse words, Logan made it to his knees
looking back at me. Seeing what I could only imagine was a foolish
grin and a bruised face, he laughed.

“You are psychotic,” he said slowly, pushing to
his feet.

I shrugged standing hands on my hips. “Be
honest, tight ass, you needed it. No one else gives you a fair
fight.”

He laughed harder. “You are not a fair fight;
the odds are heavily stacked in my favor.”

“Wanna keep going? I am more than game,” I
answered, rolling my aching shoulders.

“LOGAN!” Lorraine screamed, and we both
cringed.

Blake left his post at the door, coming behind
me and whispering in my ear, “Baby, life with you is never going to
be dull.” I shrugged as he kissed my cheek lightly.

“Dull is highly overrated,” I said, smiling up
at him looking into those bright blue eyes. Then, like a seizure,
the blood drained from my face and my eyesight blacked out. I heard
myself choke and fell into Blake’s arms.

“Baby, Olivia, no,” he said, slapping my face.
“Olie, baby, stay with me,” he said softly as we slipped to the
ground.

Pale pink of a nursery assaulted my senses, the
smell of baby powder and an ivory crib.

Sucking in a breath, I found myself on the
ground with Blake in my face. “BREATHE!” he screamed, cupping my
face as I pulled oxygen into my lungs, arching my shoulders off the
ground.

A yellow-fur-covered hand with black talons
gripped the ivory crib, and it creaked in the silence of the
darkened home.

Logan had his lips pressed against mine, blowing
in air as I came back, my eyes rapidly blinking as Blake thumped on
my chest. I squeaked as Logan pulled back, bellowing deeply,
“BREATHE!”

A whimper escaped as the cracked, decrepit
clawed hand touched the peach blanket, gently pulling it off the
sleeping form of the newborn girl, her hands swaddled in pale
yellow mittens.

I screamed, thrashing against Blake and
Logan.

Pink lids were closed, content in the sleep of
innocence. The clawed hand rested gently on her head. I could feel
the baby’s contentment, love. It seeped from her body into the
room, her emotions coating the undead. She was a succubus and she
would be powerful. Steven could have found her anywhere; no one
suspected they would be killed just for being a supernatural.

I was crying. Logan’s arms circled under my bra,
binding me to his chest as Blake straddled my chest, holding my
shoulders into Logan. Darren and Jerry each had one of my legs.

I drew a ragged breath, as the dead shifter
slowly clenched his hand and the newborn’s skull cracked, making
the only sound to permeate the silence. It left the parents alive;
I could feel Steven’s smugness knowing the pain he was causing.

A desperate, pathetic, hopeless sound reached my
ears, and I realized it was me, my lungs, my voice producing the
wail.

Logan arms loosened as both Jerry and Darren let
go of my legs. I heard the clink of glass, and I assumed Logan
poured himself a drink. Blake cradled my face gently, asking,
“Baby?”

A sob made it past my lips. “It killed again,” I
whispered, closing my eyes. “A newborn, days.”

Blake pulled me into his body, holding me close
as my emotions shut down.

I heard someone ask muffled, “Is it always this
bad?”

Kass answered, “At first, no; she could break it
and trace the undead to wherever it was killing.” She sighed,
resting her hand on my head. “She, Blake, and Tate destroyed that
one, but then Steven called another.”

“Our grandfather,” Darren said softly, pressing
a glass of water into my hands. I pushed tightly into Blake,
struggling to control my emotions and angry that he could feel. I
should be better than this; I should be able to protect him.

“It’s okay, Olivia,” he whispered into my ear.
“Don’t worry about me.”

“Doesn’t he try to fight it?” a voice asked.

Peeking around Blake’s shoulder, I saw the
speaker, a man with an auburn head of hair cropped close, dressed
in relaxed back dress pants and a skin-tight shirt.

“He did,” I said softly as all eyes turned to
me. “His strength is why I can’t breathe, why I can’t regain
consciousness. He tried to show Steven to me, but all I saw was
darkness.”

I sighed, closing my eyes, handing the glass
back to Darren. “It’s time,” I said softly, pulling out my phone as
I struggled to stand with Blake’s help.

“Yes?” Blue answered.

“It’s going down now,” I said, not elaborating.
His silence was broken only by a sigh.

“What exactly is going down?” Jerry questioned
me with a raised eyebrow.

I made a grimace, answering, “Blake is going to
drain me to the point where my heart almost stops.”

“No,” Blake shouted fiercely.

“I don’t have a choice. Between waiting for
Logan and his idiotic plan to find Steven and wasting time
ransacking the false address he gave us, I don’t have any more
time,” I answered, feeling the newborn’s death as my
responsibility.

“I can hear you,” Logan said, draining his glass
and pouring himself another.

“And?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “This is
your entire fault.”

“No,” Blake said, pulling back to look into my
eyes. “No, I will not risk your life.”

“I don’t have a choice,” I whispered. “I cannot
go through that again.”

The auburn-haired man spoke up. “How did you
avoid the visions, Logan?” The question was heavily underlain with
insult.

“Sleeping pills,” he said softly, perched on the
broken couch, taking a long swig of his drink.

“They were not real, and how does anyone know
what she is seeing is real? She could just be delusional in
addition to psychotic!” Lorraine screamed.

Someone growled at her to my shock. “Remember
what she said—” the auburn-haired man said softly.

“Alec,” Logan warned.

He turned away, but I caught the glowing in his
eyes. Groaning, I turned to Blake. “I have to do this.”

His eyes were misty and I hated myself for it.
“Stop it,” he whispered, nodding. “Olivia, I could kill you,” he
reminded me, not that I needed reminding of that particular
detail.

Shaking my head, I answered more with my
emotions than my words. “I trust you,” I said simply and for the
first time in my life.

My brain understood I should be terrified,
whispering those words to a man whom I was sleeping with, whom I
was already needing and depending on, but my heart rejoiced at the
admission. Common sense told me to pull back, demanded I stay
aloof, but the walls I had constructed were crumbling and I knew
there was no going back, and if I were very, very honest, I didn’t
want to. That simple fact terrified me more than anything else.

I had denied myself many things in this world
and the idea of a lifelong companion was one of them.

He sighed and Jerry added, “It will help
regenerate your fangs.”

Blake nodded, still not looking away from me,
caressing my face. Pressing a firm kiss against my forehead, he
pulled the knife from my boot and I couldn’t help but smile at how
well he knew me.

He moved behind me and I eased into the strength
of his chest as I tilted my head now staring at the ornate desk.
Inlaid into the thick wood surface was an intricate floral pattern
I hadn’t noticed earlier. I forced my mind to focus on beauty and
strength as Blake cut into my jugular. Blowing out a breath, I
cooled my core. I could do this. I trusted Blake. I just had to
find that place again where the Steven called the lion. I could do
this. I had to; there was no one else.

My lids grew heavy and my foot thumped once as
my survival instinct tried to stop the vampire pulling out my life
force.

“Forgive me, Olie,” Blake whispered when he was
finished.

“Don’t leave me,” said the thirteen-year-old
inside me.

“Never,” he promised. As blackness swarmed my
vision, his sky blue eyes were my last sight.

I had been to this place once before when I had
almost died. Cultures call it different things, but it had always
felt like twilight to me, when you can’t tell if the sun is rising
or setting and the things that go bump in the night start making an
appearance.

I thought this was the place the lion had taken
me. Here’s to hoping I was right as my eyes flew open and I sat up
abruptly.

Looking down, I saw my body as wispy smoke
intertwined with my physical body. It worked; I was here.
Fantastic, I was dying. Standing, I stumbled slightly unused to the
lightness of my body, knocking over the glass of water on the
table.

“Oops,” I muttered.

Blake sighed audibly. “It worked,” he said more
to himself. “Forty-five minutes baby and not a second longer.”

I squeezed his shoulder, looking down. I
expected to see my same leather pants, ass-kicking boots, and blue
shirt. Instead, a black dress drifted on me, moved by a breeze I
couldn’t feel. Odd, yet the oddest thing was the thick red cord
that disappeared into my chest. Touching it lightly, I felt shock
waves, screams of the victims I had watched, the bellow of the lion
trying, fighting, and always reaching me.

Removing my hand quickly I walked through the
front door, past the worried looks from my friends and the stony
denial of Logan. It was asinine that I had to clean up this mess;
it was his and his alone, yet here I was, straddling the line
between the living and the dead in an attempt to solve all of his
problems.

I should just take over the damn shifter nation,
if the head of the damn U.S.A. branch can’t keep his ducks in a
row. Why hadn’t they ousted him and found someone who could?

Chapter 24

My rope ended at the docks, and I honestly don’t
know why I was surprised. It was dark, dingy, and dirty with plenty
of places to hide and lots and lots of boxes to shove over and trap
an unknowing victim.

Twisting my way toward the center of the
building, I noticed Steven had carved himself out a nice little
place to play with jars of paste and herbs circled around a shallow
brass bowl, dimly lit by the fading sun, sending orange hues across
his annoying face. I wished I could kill in this form; it would
solve all my problems quickly and painlessly, not to mention there
would be no trail back to me.

The sound of crying had my smoky head shift to
the side. My mental ranting was silenced as my eyes rounded in
horror. Trapped in a large dog crate were the twins, their thin
forms huddled together, careful not to touch the side of the metal
enclosure. Squinting, I could see orange power twisting over the
black metal. Son of a bitch.

Steven’s magic had a color; this was far worse
than I imagined.

Like a rocket, I shot back to my body, being
pulled rapidly. The sleeping city flashing by in hues of bright
whites and pale blues.

Slowly, I drew a deep breath, feeling fatigue in
my limbs. Clenching my fists, I whispered, “He has them.”

“Who?” asked Blake from far away.

Rolling to my side, I forced my eyes open,
meeting Logan’s gaze. “The twins.”

…

“I realize it may be ‘ard to understand through
me accent, but me answer is no,” Blue said again, tilting his head
at a sharp angle to argue with the impossibly tall Logan.

“He is one of my mine,” Logan growled, leaning
menacingly towards Blue.

“How decent of you to admit responsibility now,”
Blue said, his cobalt blue eyes dancing merrily.

I smiled from the couch I had earlier recovered
on. Unfortunately, sex wouldn’t pull me back from this one. I
needed time to replenish the blood I had lost; an IV drip taped to
my wrist greatly sped up the process.

“Let us not forget yer previous attempt to gain
control of this situation led to Olivia having to save yer arse
once again,” Blue said, his lips turned up in a smile; he was
enjoying the goading.

Blake paced behind me, on the phone with Tate in
low whispers.

“The vampires are going?” Logan asked, losing
ground.

It took all my strength, which wasn’t much, not
to laugh aloud. Blue grinned, answering, “Aye, they are.”

Logan’s jaw muscles twitched as Blue continued,
“Aside, someone be needed to tend to Olivia,” he said, blasting me
with a full leprechaun grin.

My mouth hung slack as I met Logan’s wary
gaze.

In the silence, I heard the click of Blake
hanging up. Turning on my back to look up at him, I pleaded with my
eyes not to let them leave me alone with the pain-in-the-ass
shifter.

He leaned down, resting his lovely chin on the
couch back. “Sorry love, someone does need to stay here with you,
and if Logan goes with us, no one will listen to Darren.” He met
Logan’s gaze for the next statement. “And they need to listen to
Darren on this one. After all that has happened, it is important he
secure his position.”

Huffing, I crossed my arms, pulling the IV and
scraping my underarm with my watch, hissing.

Jerry walked in the front door, followed by
Mark. “Leave Mark with me,” I suggested hopefully.

“Sorry, sister, I am not leaving Jerry’s side.
He is going to need all the support he can to fight off the bad
mojo magic of Steven.”

“Shit, I forgot to tell you, Jerry, his magic is
orange,” I said, worry creasing my features as I rolled to my
side.

“Orange?” Jerry repeated.

I nodded, searching his face, the hard lines in
his forehead creasing as he said, “I am going to need more
supplies.”

Mark watched him retreat into the kitchen before
turning to me. “What does orange mean?”

“That he has moved above the average abilities.
Mage’s ranks work much the same as a rainbow: red, orange, yellow
and so on. To move into the ranks takes a great deal of time and
effort; Steven has been planning this for some time.”