Dead Shifter Walking Read online

  “I can kick your ass,” I muttered into the pillow.

  “Whatever, Suc-u-licious,” she stated, pulling off the already too small throw.

  Opening my eyes, I saw Grams walk in, laughing. “Kass, you know she has never been a morning person.” She was meticulously dressed as usual in a soft pink pencil skirt and white blouse.

  Kass’s smile only widened, making her teeth seem impossibly white against her olive complexion.

  Pulling my exhausted self into a sitting position, holding my head, I pushed my exhaustion and irritation into a braided cord into my mind. It was a trick I‘d learned, long ago, to manage my inner turmoil. I did the same with all my emotions, tucking them deep within so I could push them out when I needed them.

  Being a succubus, my emotions were my highest form of power. I could affect whole rooms if I did not exercise control. Most succubi and incubi leaked a small amount of emotion; it was only natural. I did not. I attribute that fact to my hell and the bitch who created me, Selena. I pushed that particular braid of pain away deep into my core exhaling.

  “Let’s go Princess,” I said, standing and dwarfing Kass. “I gotta learn the dances for…“ I paused, turning to Grams.

  “At least the next month,” she stated diplomatically.

  Rolling my eyes, I pushed Kass into motion, but not before she sneaked a smile at Grams. “A whole month, I haven’t sat that still in a long, long time.” I muttered.

  Grabbing a muffin from the deep burgundy bowl on the yellow cream counters, I couldn’t help but glance around the kitchen. I had kept the original cabinets, but refinished them with a soft white with dark brown handles.

  Moving around the island to the ceramic sink, I filled a glass of water from the advanced filtration system, stretching my left hand above my head and leaning to pull out the crick in my side from sleeping on the couch.

  “Quit stalling,” Kass said, grabbing an apple from the stainless steel fridge and taking a crisp bite.

  Rolling my eyes at her again, I dried my hands on the forest green kitchen towel before following her into the dance studio. It was one of my favorite rooms, spanning a quarter of the house’s first floor with a beautiful, slick, light hardwood floor, framed by mirrors along three of the walls, not to mention the top-of-the-line sound system easily controlled by voice recognition.

  Swallowing the rest of muffin down, I caught the clothing Kass tossed to me, chucking my own travel-worn gear off.

  “That looks like it hurts,” Kass commented as I slipped the bright pink top on.

  “I know; could this color be more sick?” I asked, looking down at myself, disgusted.

  “I was referring to the bullet wound on your shoulder,” she said, not sharing my humor.

  “Still not as painful as the color,” I informed her, pursing my lips out.

  She smiled warily, commanding the music to begin.

  I loved this room and the release it promised. High-level mages had warded this room to prevent our influencing the rest of the house, or, in my case, the neighborhood.

  A relaxed smile full of mischief crossed her face, rolling her shoulders and relaxing into the music that was already pumping through the speakers. “Ready?”

  I smiled back, cracking my magic open and drawing a braid out to wind around my limbs.

  Swinging her hips to the raging beat, I felt her own magic intertwine with mine. As succubi, we made excellent dancers. Kitten was the dance club Grams and I owned that provided us enough revenue for keeping up the home and the demands of raising our children, a few of whom were now in insanely expensive colleges.

  Watching her in the mirror as the beat began, I absorbed each and every move without having to mimic her first. That was another kick-ass fact about being a succubus, although there were plenty of drawbacks. I shuddered, having seen the raw primal power our blood carried.

  Pushing those thoughts away, I focused back on Kass. At twenty-six, she was the best dancer at Kitten before I left on my latest adventure. I assumed she still was; otherwise, there would be someone else here teaching me their latest dance routines. We updated our shows every month, for the simple fact we bored easily, running a different show Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The dance group was mainly succubi; although, the last time I was here, there were a few vamps, shifters, and even one human, if memory serves rightly.

  Sweat drenched my clothing, plastering the obnoxious pink shirt to my back as we ran through the routine. It felt amazing to let my power out; I hadn’t let it run this free since… last month I guessed. There was a tangible difference in forcing power at an opponent during a fight than reveling in it. I missed it. I had been on my own so long, running from job to job, hiding from the nightmares that were robbing me of sleep. I needed to be here, to belong somewhere, and to know that what I did was more than just killing; I was creating some good in this awful world.

  Kass tossed a towel at me asking, “You good to go for tonight?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?” I asked disbelievingly.

  “Yep, I have a hot date,” she smirked, toweling off her sweat.

  I shook my head. “What time?”

  “Rehearsal starts at 8:30 p.m. with the show at 11:30 p.m. Just be sure to be there by 11:15 p.m. at the latest. I know how you’re always on time,” she stated sarcastically.

  Throwing my sweaty towel at her, I skipped out the room, gathering my clothing for a shower.

  “Hey!” she admonished my retreating back.

  Making my way to the second story where Grams’s room was, I felt my thighs pull from the unaccustomed exercise. The wing my old room was located on was currently under construction to add a bathroom, update the plumbing and electrical, repaint the walls, refinish the floors, everything.

  Knocking tentatively, I heard her voice coming from the lush study. As I pushed open the cream panel double doors, she waved me into the bedroom, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear.

  “That is correct, Governor Hash,” she stated sweetly. Our ability to influence emotions completely dies on the phones. She was using good old-fashioned manipulation, which Grams had in spades.

  I stopped in my tracks, wondering if I should stay and listen. I decide not to, mainly because I don’t have the patience to listen to his constant and never-ending complaints.

  I walked through the enormous bedroom to the equally large bathroom; I eyed the oversized bathtub with jets, wishing feebly I had time to indulge in that pleasure right now. I quite simply didn’t, so I started a steamy shower instead.

  “Good God, Olivia,” Grams scolded, entering the steaming bathroom, “will you at least turn on a fan?”

  Flipping the switch, she hurried out, mumbling something about sweating asses.

  Sighing, I turn off my hot water reprieve, using the plush towel to clear a spot on the mirror before drying off my own body. I took stock of my image and didn’t like what I saw. My usual waist-long strawberry blond hair had turned dishwater blond. The hollowness in my cheeks and under my eyes were reminders of my lack of sleep and regular meals, but it was the darkness in my eyes that had me most concerned. My eyes had always been a particular mix of blue and green, Grams used to call them sea eyes. Now I wasn’t sure what color they were; darkness was all I saw.

  I pushed those emotions down into my core, locking them away for another day, which I hoped would never come.

  “Grams,” I called out through the open door, “where’s my duffle bag?”

  “Being burned,” she replied, levelly shifting papers.

  “That’s comical; what am I supposed to wear?” I asked, knowing full well everything was being washed.

  Traveling from city to city, I never had much, just what I could fit into an army duffle bag that had seen better days, but the bag had been with me longer than anyone in my life. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attached to it. I never felt like I ever belonged, that I had a home, even now, but that bag kept me centered, kept me whole in a way brick a
nd mortar could never do.

  “I have a few things laid out for you when you decide to exit the sauna,” she replied.

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me?” I stated, eyeing her selections with distain. Her smile said she wasn’t.

  Chapter 2

  The office was bathed in warm afternoon sunlight, making me pull on the itchy wool jacket for the millionth time as I sat in the plush chair in Grams's offices downtown and wriggled in my seat, equally displeased with the pencil skirt she had me wearing. Who wore wool anymore? Ugh! Grams did prove a point, though, that I needed to go shopping. I shrugged and wondered where in the world I would put my new outfits.

  We moved from the offices into the conference room when too many people had decided to air their grievances. Whether it was motivated by the rumor circulating about last night or by the fact that I was back in town, I didn’t know or really care.

  A young man sat at the other end of the mahogany table. He might have been the eighth or ninth; I was losing track as I ran my bare feet over the soft carpet. God, Grams had good taste in everything! The conference room wasn’t sterile like all those other trendy room seeking not to offend. Everything about it bespoke elegance and grace, from the soft peach walls to the lined bookshelves to the deep maroon carpet I was enjoying.

  “Thank you, Mr. Scott,” said Grams, dismissing the man. “We will take your suggestions into account and let you know if we are able to adapt them into our system.”

  Before Mr. Scott rose from his chair, the door burst open, almost torn from its hinges. An incubus, wild with blood-red eyes, was dragged in, fighting against two other incubi, trying to reach a petite blonde human who was behind Mallory, a vampire I knew well.

  I sprung from my seat, my earlier boredom and bare feet forgotten.

  “Report,” I demanded, putting myself between the riled incubus and Grams.

  Mallory reached behind her and pulled the petite blonde farther into the room. “She,” Mallory started annoyed, “accidently drew first blood.”

  “Fuck,” I whispered. First blood drawn by another person for an incubus and succubus was a powerful amplifier of whatever our current emotions were. All rational thought fled and the need to destroy spread like wildfire.

  Luckily, training could diminish the urge and redirect the power into our fighting abilities, and, if training started early enough, first blood was never an issue.

  “She was dancing with him,” the incubus hissed. “Liar! Cheater! Bitch!” he screamed, lunging for her.

  “Mallory, how fast can you get―”

  She interrupted me with a hand. “Already called; ETA five minutes,” she said, reading my mind.

  I nodded. “Did you explain?” I asked, indicating the terrified human in our midst.

  She shook her head.

  I sighed, moving the girl into a seat away from the angry words being spouted in the corner. “Do you understand first blood?” I asked her as she wiped her tear-stained petite face.

  She nodded her platinum head, sniffling. “Good. Now, the vampires will bleed both you and him.” Terror gripped her features. “It’s the only way I know how to take away the desire of first blood without killing one of you.” I decided, at that point, not to mention it wasn’t a sure thing. I had been on cases where even the letting of blood had not extinguished the desire.

  The fear was rolling off her in sickening waves. “What’s your name?” I asked gently.

  “D-Debbie,” she stammered, casting a fearful glance at where they were restraining the incubus.

  I smiled. “Debbie, everything is going to be okay. I am very good at my job.” I unwound a thick coil of power in my core infusing it with compassion and contentment until I saw Debbie visibly relax in her chair.

  I glanced at Mallory, who nodded, indicating the other vampires had arrived. Not any vamp could drain living beings within an inch of their lives. Only those with control above the rest could; they needed a good thirty to forty undead years to perfect it, and even then, I had to intervene sometimes.

  “All right,” I said, standing. “Debbie, you come with me.” She stood ready to follow me out.

  “No, Olivia,” said Grams, “please stay here; everyone needs to see how to deal with this instead of someone dying needlessly.”

  I nodded. Besides Grams and myself, two of her aides where present, watching with wide eyes. Being an aide to a political figure in the human world was night to the day of being an aide in the politics of the supernatural world. Aside from their ability to fight in order to defend themselves and those around them, they were selected because Grams believed they would someday succeed her and have the courage to make the hard choices. Their names were Ali and Grant and they each belonged to minor clans. Ali was a descendant of Medusa, her blood too diluted to be considered a demigod, but it left her with enough power not to be considered human. Grant had a more colorful background as a gypsy. Unlike the stereotype, Grant could contact the dead as easily as breathing and place curses with terrifying results. They were each older than me, and I was fairly certain they had written me off upon meeting me.

  I am not political, and whatever agendas they were pushing, I couldn’t care less, unless, of course, they crossed one of our laws, and I had to put them down.

  I turned back to Debbie. “Okay, let’s sit back down,” I said, smiling.

  She didn't respond; she was turned away from me, intently watching the two vamps who had just entered the room. These dolls had apparently been reading too many vamp love stories, judging from their outfits. They were decked out in designer pants, dark sunglasses, and, I’m fairly certain, silk button down shirts. I almost laughed out loud.

  They shared a nod with Mallory, who looked underdressed for her vamp part in jeans and a tank top, but I was impressed that she wasn’t being intimidated in the least.

  “How did this happen?” Ali asked from behind me.

  Mallory answered, “They were preparing for tonight at Kitten when we heard the crash. A case of glasses fell and broke; best guess, it was an accident, which is why we brought them here instead of letting nature take its course.”

  “Smart move,” the vamp with the longer brown hair said, removing his sunglasses to reveal piercing green eyes.

  “Thanks, Morgan, your approval moves mountains,” Mallory responded blandly.

  He smiled at her and was about to say something else when the incubus in the corner started up again.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I reminded them.

  Morgan nodded and said, “Tate, you take the big boy. I’ll have myself the lady.”

  He slid up with a practiced smoothness.

  “Hi there,” he said looking down at Debbie. He only had a few inches on me; at five feet ten inches, I was tall for a female in whatever race we were comparing.

  He slid a finger down her bare arm, achieving the shiver he had been going for. “What’s your name?” he asked gently.

  “Debbie,” she breathed out in awe.

  Morgan smiled without showing his pointed teeth. “Debbie,” he said, making her name sound like a promise, “can you sit for me?”

  I couldn't deny it; up close, he was devilishly handsome. His green eyes danced as he made us all feel we were imposing by being there, the pale vamp skin was a perfect contrast to his chestnut shoulder-length hair, but the kicker had to be his blood-red lips.

  Debbie slid into the seat at his request, and he followed her down on one knee. Gently, he took her wrist into his own large hands, careful not to lose eye contact as he lowered his lips to her pulse beating there, placing a most tender kiss.

  I rolled my shoulders; I really needed to get laid. He wasn’t touching me, and I wanted him to sink his fangs into me as well.

  “Please,” Debbie whispered.

  Morgan raised an eyebrow seeking confirmation; blood given freely was a monumental deal for some vampires. It seemed Morgan fit into this category.

  “Yes, please,” she said again just
as softly.

  A primal growl came from Morgan, revealing his fangs biting gently down on her soft flesh. I released the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. Debbie’s head rolled forward and Morgan moved to support her body.

  I slowly moved away from the pair, my eyes searching for the incubus. Tate was having a more difficult time subduing him, but he told the guards to move away from him as he continued his hypnotic talk. Was he actually sporting a Mohawk? I think he was.

  I watched the incubus try to break away from Tate’s gaze, and then as Tate took a deep breath, reaching out, the incubus’s eyes caught sight of Debbie and Morgan. The roar he let out was deafening.

  “Protect her,” I said to Morgan as the incubus broke free and scrambled onto the table.

  Sliding across the table on my ass, I sucked a deep breath. He hit like a bull, knocking us both off the table, with me landing on top after our roll. Quickly, I pulled my thickest ropes out, telling his limbs they were immobile. I had to admit it was a cheap trick, and it was usually seen through immediately; however, that was usually with a rational individual, not a first-blood-driven beast. I would also admit that I kicked out more power than most. But don’t worry; that will come back to bite me soon enough. There’s a price for going against another’s immediate desires, even when I have their best interests at heart.

  I felt more than saw Tate behind me.

  “Now,” I whispered as he knelt next to me.

  Sparing a glance, I saw the conflict on his sharply formed face; it wasn’t freely given anymore. I pulled more power from my core, mimicking the contentment and security I felt with Morgan, leaving out the sexual attraction.

  The incubus heaved a sigh, his limbs going weak.

  Tate looked at me and I nodded in response as he took the limp wrist from me and waited, poised.

  “Say it,” I commanded.

  As in a dream, the words sounded from his mouth. “Freely given; it is freely given,” he repeated, looking in Tate’s eyes.