Shift Work (Carus #4) (20 page)

The beast rumbled her approval and stretched.

Simmer down,
I told her.
They haven’t been gone long
. Ben said to give it at least a month or two before panicking. He’d taken a leave from work, along with the rest of his den. Apparently, the Elders believed in long-lasting punishments.

The beast huffed and relaxed, leaving me again to my thoughts.

But rarely did my thoughts get much alone time. A cold shudder racked my body as if a sheet of death rolled over me—my peace and quiet shattered.

It is time
, a voice slithered in my head.
Come to me.

My body shook as wave after glacial wave washed through me, urging me toward the window—to take flight and leave humanity behind.

Well, why not? I didn’t have any plans for tonight anyway. May as well go out and tempt crazy.

With the compulsion riding me as liquid ice in my veins, I stumbled toward open air. With each step, movement became easier and within seconds I shifted to the falcon and was aloft in the fall night sky, heading in the direction of the summons.

The flight was short. The call came from the west side of Pitt River, near Widgeon Creek. I used to canoe here to find isolation and run through the mountain forest.

Near the mouth of Widgeon Creek, the grass grew tall and the marsh-like land fed the loamy scent in the air. As soon as I touched down, I shifted back to human and waited. The wind sifted through the tall blades of grass. Probably home to a gazillion deer ticks.

Grass brushed against my shins, flicking sharp edges against smooth skin. The bushes rustled and the leaves on nearby trees swished in the breeze. The cold shakes returned, and I crossed my arms over my naked chest to stay warm. Goosebumps pebbled up along my skin.

Anytime now.

Patience, Carus,
the reptilian voice replied. The wind picked up speed and howled through the long grass and reeds. The foul musky scent I associated with snakes during hot summers on the Sunshine Coast floated in the air. I blanched. The fera smelled like mink poop.

Something slithered over my bare foot.

“Gah!” I jumped two feet in the air and turned. A garter snake studied me. She coiled into a tight ball near my right foot. She could touch me all she wanted, but one touch of my forefinger, and I’d absorb her into my body.

“A garter snake?” Really? Not exactly helping my street cred, or my badass image as the Carus.

The snake tongued the air, probably tasting my disappointment.
Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.

Did this fera seriously just quote Mother Teresa to me? Well, damn. I sighed and sat down. She slid onto my outstretched arm, and wound around my wrist.

It is time, Carus.

I know
. I reached out and touched her nubby snout with my forefinger. The moment my skin contacted hers, ice flowed through my veins. She lost her brown and soft yellow colouring, and faded into ghost white before my energy hoovered her into my body like a dust cloud.

Inside, the effect was instantaneous. My mountain lion and falcon screeched with rage and defiance at her cold-blooded presence.

Food!
the falcon squawked.

Pest,
the mountain lion roared.

The beast stirred, and my head pounded.

Settle
, I told them all, adding command to my voice, like an Alpha badass. No more putting up with their infighting. That shit hurt.

Snake,
I said.
I shall call you Kaa.

May as well keep with the
Jungle Book
theme I started with Baloo the bear.

The snake flicked her tongue out to caress my brain’s nerve cells.

I shivered.

I am you, you are me, we—

Yeah, yeah. You still need a name.

We are one,
Kaa finished with a hiss.

Kaa, I dispel you.

My body shook with more cold energy as Kaa wrenched from my essence. Her little ghost body appeared coiled on my thigh. She flicked her tongue out again and reached up to butt her tiny face into mine.

I am you, you are me, we are one.
Approval and an odd warmth accompanied her reptilian voice.

I know, Kaa. Please dematerialize.

Kaa’s mouth twitched up into what probably passed as a reptilian smile, if even possible, and her tongue snaked out one last time to caress my cheek before she shrunk into nothing and disappeared.

See you soon
, her last thought floated through my mind, before leaving it empty. In the space she vanished, I caught a glimpse of something more. The other side? Gone too fast, my brain had no time to process the flicker of an image.

The mountain lion and falcon, who’d remained quiet through the exchange—thoughtful, and entirely out of character—now cuddled up together and sent a calming warmth through my body.

The beast grumbled and called me a wuss before settling down.

I wiped an errant tear from my cheek and stood up. I dabbed at my nose. No blood this time, and my headache had almost disappeared. Weird, but my fera acquiring skills seemed to be improving.

Time to go home.
I groped for the falcon.
We’ll take our time and play in the air flows.

She screeched in agreement.

****

Just me and my empty apartment. No Tristan. No pack or pride. No Witches. Solitude never bothered me before, but now it tugged at my heart. Just months out of the assassination game, and I was already getting soft.

Red?
I called out.
Red, come here, please.

My ghost fox fera materialized on the couch beside me.

Run?
She asked.

No. Just lonely. I want company.

You’re weird.

Shut up and cuddle me.

Okay.
She curled up in my lap, and I stroked her soft, fine fur. Only I could see or touch her, but her presence made the emptiness of my apartment drift away. If only I’d been born a normal Shifter. I’d have a physical fera with me all the time.

My friend, Mel, had texted to arrange a coffee date for tomorrow. Most insistent. That couldn’t be good. I replied and agreed to meet her.

The night sounds of light traffic and distant coyotes howling filtered through my apartment. The couch softened under my weight, cushioning my tired limbs and embracing me like a lover. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back on the plush pillow. My muscles slackened and a deadening weight spread through my body as sleep seeped through my bones.

Someone gently rapped on my door.

Whatever, they could call or text. Sleepy time.

My mountain lion and fox yawned.

My falcon puffed out her feathers and nestled her beak under a wing.

The beast snored.

The knocking came again.

One eye popped open.

Maybe it’s Ben.

Ben!

Energy zapped my body. Oh my Feradea! Maybe it
is
Ben. He better be okay.

Both eyes bugged open, and I leapt up. Red jumped from the bed and dematerialized. A wave of dizziness traveled up my body from the quick motion, and I gripped the wall to avoid toppling over.

“Coming,” I bellowed.

When I walked down the hallway, streams of Witch scent met me. But it wasn’t Ben. The scent didn’t belong to any of my Witch neighbours. I halted and sniffed the air.

A charm.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck!

I pivoted on my heel as my apartment’s door burst open. A hailstorm of bullets rained down the hallway as I dove around the corner. The rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire echoed through my apartment.

Not wanting to test my beast against bullets, I sprinted to the bedroom as the intruders entered the apartment. Their heavy breathing and careful footsteps on the throw rugs the only hint of their progress.

The soft smell of night blossoms flowed in through my opened bedroom window. I ripped off my shirt, called the falcon and shifted as I launched into the air. I pumped my wings hard as the would-be-killers burst into the bedroom. More gunfire echoed into the night. I careened sharply to the right and then up and over the building.

Out of sight and out of reach of the shooters, I circled back to my apartment. My tiny bird heart pumped hard, punching against my breast bone. The sound of sirens ricocheted through the night air and drew closer to my apartment. I angled through the neighbouring buildings and perched on a nearby rooftop.

The men exited the building. A gray van with no plates parked around the corner jostled as someone from the inside slid open the side door. The men, dressed in black fatigues and balaclavas with guns jumped in. The door slid shut and the van peeled away, leaving one man alone in the street. He watched the vehicle turn the corner and then walked gun-less to a black SUV with tinted windows and also no plates. He unlocked it by remote, opened the door, hopped in, and after a minute of rummaging around started the vehicle. He didn’t appear rushed or concerned with the encroaching sirens or possibility of witnesses.

When his vehicle pulled away from the curb, I followed him.

He didn’t drive far; around the corner, down a few blocks, then into one of the deserted parking lots for the river. No witnesses around here except for the homeless living in the woods.

The man hopped out. He’d taken off his balaclava and changed into a red shirt somehow while driving. He left the SUV and walked into the forest.

I knew this section of the PoCo trail. A bridge connected the banks of the PoCo River, and was one of the few places to cross from the west side of Port Coquitlam to the east side of Coquitlam without getting my feet wet. Swallowing a screech of delight, I pumped my wings and flew ahead of my assailant. I’d meet him on the other side of the bridge and cut him off.

****

Sweet pine and the smell of a cooling cedar grove wrapped around my mountain lion form as I quivered and waited. A gentle breeze combed through my coarse feline fur, and my paws sank into the soft soil.

The man approached. No longer taking heed with his step, his boots fell heavy and thoughtless against the forest trail.

“No, we didn’t get her. You didn’t tell us she could shift into a bird,” the man said, his voice surprisingly high and squeaky.

Another voice, scratchy and undiscernible replied, presumably on the other end of the phone.

“You didn’t pay us enough to go back.”

The voice intensified, but garbled and too far away, I couldn’t make it out.

“Whatever. We’ll deal with it. Goodbye.” The man swore under his breath and continued to plod along. His heavy footsteps hit the concrete of the newer path, which led from the bridge. The cool night air whistled along the river and rustled his shirt and pants.

When he reached the other side, I moved. Weaving around the trees, I exited the forest right in front of the bridge landing. The man froze.

With wavy, deep brown locks, strong eyebrows and a straight nose, the man would’ve caught my attention if we stood together in a line for coffee. But tonight, he caught my attention for another reason. He’d tried to kill me on someone else’s orders. Mercenary. My fate, had Stan and the VPD not pulled through with a job offer.

I needed to find out who hired him and why.

Then I needed to kick some ass.

“Hey, kitty,” the man crooned. He took both hands out of his pockets and held them out in front of his body. He moved them up and down as if the gesture would soothe me. I tracked the movement, and he stopped.

Kill
, my mountain lion hissed in my head.

Let me out
, the beast demanded.
I’ll make him talk.

My falcon yawned.

With my body crouched low, I advanced and ignored the voices in my head.

“Hey, kitty.” The man moved backward slowly with each step I took forward. “Nice, kitty.”

Hah!
He had no idea.

His hand disappeared into his back pocket and a shiny knife made an appearance. “Go the other way, kitty.”

I continued to approach. Like a four inch knife would deter me.

The man cursed again. He used colourful language. If we’d been friends, I would’ve complimented him on his word choice.

“Go away!” the man yelled. Sweat oozed from his pores and trickled down his face. The sickly sweet smell of it saturated the air. He continued to step backward as I herded him onto the bridge. The one-way fifty metre long bridge.

I barred my teeth and gave a good yowl. The piercing sound filled the night air. The hairs raising on the man’s arms and his quickening heartbeat pleased my mountain lion and delighted the beast.

“Nice—”

I pounced. A thick paw slammed his knife hand against the bridge’s pavement. The sharp knife clattered against the stonework before falling over the side into the water below. With recent rainfall, the water level had risen enough to allow the river a faster pace.

With his arms pinned back and his face inches from my own, the man screamed.

I let my teeth talk for me, and he stilled under my furry body. His screams became whimpers.

“Please,” he begged.

Well, hopefully I instilled enough fear.

With a deep breath and a moment to focus, I started to shift back when a shot rang out in the night. A blast of pain shattered out from my left hip. I yowled into the night.

“I got it! I got it!” a man yelled from up the river. His voice broke on the second sentence. A young man. A teenager, maybe.

“Keep shooting,” and older man yelled. “It has someone pinned.”

Fuck!

I raked a claw against the man’s chest before taking off down the bridge. My lungs constricted as I pushed my feline body to sprint. Sharp shooting pains laced up my leg and jolted down my back with each stride. What the hell were hunters doing on the river? This was in the middle of a residential zone. The gun fired again, and the metal railing behind me rattled as the bullet struck.

As soon as I hit the forest, I shifted into a falcon and flew off into the night. Intense aching radiated from my hind quarters. Shot, again. Three times in one year. My badass-ery skills needed work.

At least the hitman also screamed in pain. He’d survive his wounds. I didn’t rake him deep enough to be fatal, but one check for a man admitted to the hospital for mountain lion injuries, and I’d find him again.