Dead Shifter Walking Read online

  Tate flicked a final look towards me before drawing the wrist to his mouth and pulling down his fangs as they entered into his skin.

  Again, I released the breath I was keeping in my chest. Checking my outfit, I belatedly realized I had torn the skirt clean up the side. Oops. I shrugged, meeting Grams disapproving scowl.

  Pulling the braids off the incubus wrists, I watched carefully for any movement to buck Tate and me off, finding none I slowly, ever so gently eased off the contentment. He stirred, slurring a sentence I couldn’t understand.

  I waited, holding my breath again before pulling off the rest. I left one strand to ground myself; once all my magic was pulled back into me, it would hurt like hell.

  “Grams,” I said, my voice sounding strained, “make sure even if they touch, there’s no reaction; otherwise, when he’s strong enough, we’ll be back in the same situation.”

  She nodded.

  “Where are you going?” Grant asked from behind his glasses.

  I smiled, staggering back a few paces.

  “Shit,” Grams said. “Everyone cover their eyes,” she yelled with authority.

  Hitting the floor in between the bookshelves, I made sure Tate had covered his feast’s eyes before I pulled all my magic in. The rebound effect was awful; golden light swarmed in my closed eyes and lit my skin, making it raw. Concentrating only on my breathing, I braided the pain and magic into thicker and thicker cords, until I lost myself in the braids with no sense of self or pain.

  Pulling in a ragged breath, my limbs started to regain sensation. Everything seemed fairly normal, nothing broken or severely bruised. My ears began to register sounds, although my eyes refused to open yet.

  “I assure you Mr. Morgan, Olivia will be just fine; there is no need for medical attention,” Grams said soothingly.

  “I have a few questions I would like to ask her,” said a voice I didn’t instantly recognize.

  “Yes, Mr. Tate, I do realize her ability to manipulate emotions leaves many questions,” Grams said diplomatically. “However, as you can see, she isn’t in a position to answer you at this moment.”

  “Do you know how she did it?” Tate asked softly.

  “No, Mr. Tate, I do not. Olivia…” She paused, unsure about how to proceed. “Olivia deals with people and circumstances most of us never have to worry about; how she was able to do what she did is not known to me.”

  “Will you have her call us once she is up and about?” Morgan asked clipped.

  “Yes,” Grams assured, “I most certainly will.”

  I heard the door close and Grams letting out a long-winded sigh.

  Trying my eyes again, I found them more cooperative. Letting out a groan, I rolled to my side, attempting to sit up.

  “One quiet day, Olie, is that too much to ask for?” she said, still staring at the door.

  “Yes,” I whispered hoarsely, “it always is.”

  Blinking rapidly, my vision returned to me, revealing Grant and Ali still sitting in their seats, looking a tad pale. Stumbling into an upright position, I fell into the nearest chair, rubbing my temples.

  “Did it work?” I asked hoarsely.

  “Yes” Grams said, returning to her seat across the table. “He had no lingering effects of first blood.”

  I let a sigh out. “Good.”

  Lifting my head, I checked the time, 9 p.m. Unlike most organizations, we started our day around noon and finished around midnight four days a week of business hours. Today was a Friday, what was supposed to be our day off, canceled due to a high caseload and the meeting last night.

  I had two hours before I had to be a Kitten, enough time for dinner and a shower.

  “Can I get a car to the house?” I said, standing on wobbly legs. “I’ve gotta get ready to go to Kitten.”

  Grams nodded absentmindedly as Ali picked up the phone.

  “Ten minutes,” Ali reported, not looking at me.

  I nodded, heading out and gaining stability as I went.

  Outside, it had rained heavily, leaving the ground wet and the air fresh. I inhaled deeply as a black Explorer pulled to the curb. Speedy service.

  “Where to, ma’am?” The driver asked as I situated myself in the back.

  “To the manor,” I answered. I didn’t owe Tate and Morgan an explanation as to why and how I was able to manipulate emotions, but I knew Grams would ride my ass until I answered their questions. If I were lucky, it would just be to satisfy their curiosity. If I were unlucky, hell, I didn’t want to think about that. The twinkling lights of the manor came into view, pinpoints of light breaking through my dark thoughts, and I smiled at the intrusion. It was peaceful, tranquil, and undisturbed by the madness of the world outside.

  “I’ll need a ride to Kitten in about an hour,” I said to the driver.

  “Very good, ma’am; I will wait here,” he replied. I was about to leave when a thought struck me.

  “Um, do you want something to eat?” I asked. No one had ever waited on me, and while having a chauffeur was kick-ass, I had no idea what was expected of me.

  Oh crap, I didn’t even know his name. Fuck it.

  “Hey, just park and come in. Oh, and what’s your name?”

  Five minutes later, Jerry, the tall lanky chocolate-skinned driver, and I were seated at the pine table consuming whole-wheat pasta and salads.

  “It’s nothing exciting,” I said to Jerry from across the table in the empty kitchen.

  He smiled pearly white teeth that contrasted with his dark skin. He was older than me but had managed to keep the carefree nature of his twenties intact.

  “Ain’t no matta,” he pointed his fork at me. “Although it is mighty odd you don’t eat meat,” he stated, returning to his meal.

  I shrugged. “Never appealed to me.”

  “You ain’t never had fried chicken?” he asked, leveling a fork knowingly at me.

  I made a face. “Actually, I have; they make the same out of tofu.”

  He made his own pained face. “That just ain’t right.”

  I leaned back in my chair, my stomach full, wanting nothing more than a soft bed for the night. I didn’t have time for even a nap; hell, I didn’t even have a bed at the moment. Pulling in my annoyance, I pushed away from the table.

  “I need to get a few things before we leave,” I said to Jerry.

  He nodded, finishing his pasta. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  True to form, I was late; thankfully, I wasn’t on first, which gave Gunther enough time for my makeup and hair for the “Return of the Kitten” routine.

  He smiled, admiring his handiwork. “Good to have you back,” he said. I grinned behind the half cat mask, making my way to the stage. Kitten was designed with a stage that could dominate the center of the room but also could be broken apart and moved as needed. It was currently in the middle of the room, and for a surprise entrance, I climbed into the lighting system, managing not to break an ankle in my high-heeled boots. I heard a few soft whistles and “welcome home” from the techs as I made my way above the center stage.

  The announcer boomed loudly, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special surprise for you tonight. The namesake of Kitten has returned home and…” The lights focused down as I swung myself onto the stage with a soft thump. “Here she is.”

  The brilliant lights captured me along with the gasps of surprise from the crowd. I smiled slowly, seductively shaking my curled hair around my shoulders.

  “Hello, dolls,” I whispered alluringly into the earpiece, enjoying my sultry voice reverberating around the floor.

  Enthusiastic applause greeting those two words; my smile widened. I couldn’t lie; it was fantastic to be loved, even by these pleasure-seeking, overinflated moneybags.

  My particular skill set, which Grams had alluded to, was the simple fact that my dancing was a natural aphrodisiac, so much so, that those attending had to sign disclaimers releasing us from consequences of their actions after the show. Tonight was no diffe
rent; if anything, it was more powerful, given my extended absence.

  After a few refrains, the others joined me as the stage began its slow circular motion, ensuring everyone got a fair view while they enjoyed their gourmet dinner. I felt the energy of my fellow dancers pulsing in my veins, mingling with my own power sliding over my skin and amplifying every sensation. My skin was tender where the leather halter-top didn’t cover and my breathing felt labored from more than just the exertion of dancing.

  I lost myself in its touch, becoming one as I unbraided the power, slowly losing conscious awareness of my limbs, trusting they would still keep rhythm and dance.

  Eventually, as the music stopped, I had to abandon my blissful escape flowing through the music and crashed back to reality, pulling in my braids of power; I was disappointed, but the show must go on. Exiting with the rest of the dance crew below the stage, we worked our way back to the dressing rooms, changing makeup and costumes for the rest of the evening’s dances.

  I had minor parts in the rest of the dances; didn’t mean I kicked out less power, just less noticeably. We finished the sets, waived goodbye to the crowd, and retired to the dressing rooms. Checking my phone, I found a text message from Jerry, out back when ready.

  I texted him back, give me 10, I smell.

  He responded, good lawd take 20. I just got the Beast detailed.

  I laughed. He called the SUV "the Beast"? We clearly had things to discuss.

  Leaving at 3 a.m. with wet hair wasn’t the brightest idea; I was tired and wanted to catch up on the sleep I missed yesterday. Truthfully, I should have known that wasn’t possible. There is no rest for the wicked. Exiting from the back of Kitten, my hopes of a quiet evening died, seeing Mark leaning against the beast, talking with Jerry. If I were lucky, he was just picking up on my driver, which was beyond fine with me. Just because I wasn’t getting any, didn’t mean they shouldn’t enjoy themselves.

  I had just about convinced my delusional self that I was correct; Jerry threw his head back, laughing full force at something Mark said, and Mark sported an equally playful smile. I even gave myself a mental pat on the back when Jerry casually touched Mark’s forearm and Mark leaned forward to hear him better. I actually stopped dead in my tracks, wondering if I should leave them alone a little longer.

  As was customary in my life, this tender moment of love and joviality was soon disrupted. Darren jumped out of a limo that I didn’t notice behind the SUV and demand loudly, “Is she out yet?”

  What the fuck was he doing here? I groaned as my limbs grew cold hardly containing my desire to stomp my feet on Kitten’s concrete steps, seeing my dreams of a fluffy bed dying a bloody death.

  Mark pulled back from Jerry’s window, equally annoyed and embarrassed; even Jerry looked a little red. Oh hell, he might not be my favorite person, but I was fond of Jerry, and if he could bring tight-ass Mark around to enlightenment, I was going to help, not hinder.

  “Over here, Blondie,” I yelled, just as annoyed at him as I began moving again. “What part of closed for business do you have trouble with?” I taunted. He was taller than Mark but where Mark boasted the shoulders of a linebacker, Darren was lean with bleached-blond hair matching his store-bought tan.

  He stormed over in his custom-fit suit. “I have been waiting all night for you.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I shifted my backpack, kicking a hip out. “Sorry, some of us have to work for a living, spoiled ass.”

  It was his turn to sport some frustrated red now.

  “I don’t have time for this,” he said, grabbing my upper arm and pulling me behind him. That was a classic mistake. I had his armed pinned painfully behind him before he moved more than a step.

  “No touching,” I whispered in his ear as I pushed him forward and away from me, ready to lay steel down in this ally.

  “Shit, Darren, back off,” Mark warned, now fully recovered from his earlier embarrassment. “She doesn’t know.”

  “And what, pray tell, should I know?” I asked, curious, but still annoyed.

  “It’s his daughter,” Jerry answered, coming out of the car, pointing at Darren, and shrugging. “She ain’t right,” he finished as though that was enough of an explanation.

  I uncrossed my arms shifting my backpack. “You think?” I asked, not fully voicing the question if she was one of ours.

  Jerry shrugged. “I ain’t never met her, but from what they be describing, can’t hurt to check it out.”

  I sighed, instantly regretting my decision. “Let’s go.”

  Mark hung back, whispering with Darren before following Jerry and me to the SUV. I gave Jerry a hard look as I got into the back seat. He smiled wildly, motioning Mark to take shotgun.

  “I like Jerry; fuck this up and I’m not above removing a few key body parts,” I warned, snuggling down in my seat.

  Jerry glared at me in the rearview mirror “Really?” he mouthed.

  “Geez, just kidding,” I said to relieve the tension in the air. I suppose I should cut Mark some marginal sort of slack; at least he was finally venturing to where his heart led.

  “Do you want to know what we have observed?” Mark said as I put my ear buds in.

  “Nope,” I answered, moving my hair from the wet mark it had created on my black t-shirt, still regretting not drying it.

  He raised an eyebrow, so I explained, “I’m going to enjoy my music while you and Jerry discuss whatever the hell you want, or nothing. Not interested.” I hit play, shoving my ear buds in.

  Mark opened his mouth to say something, but I saw Jerry’s mouth moving and Mark closed his own, turning around to talk with him.

  I closed my eyes, listening to Miranda Lambert, my favorite female county artist. She was a woman after my own heart, without the Executioner job title, but with an unstable life and desire for revenge.

  I sighed, letting my thoughts run wild. My control was renewed after dancing and I had no worries of leaking into their conversation. Darren’s daughter being a succubus was wildly possible. I had never met his wife, but occasionally the power of a succubus ran untapped, never exposed or weak enough, it was never noticed, and those lucky souls blended into humankind, never knowing they had a minefield of power. Blend untapped succubus blood with the powerful shifter blood of Darren and it wasn’t surprising at all that, at four years old, Hannah was starting to display unmanageable traits. I could only imagine how annoyed Darren must be, a genuine smile spreading across my face, imagining his little angel’s outbursts.

  I pulled my focus back to the SUV, watching Jerry and Mark’s conversation change as Mark gave the final direction, pulling into a long driveway that led to an equally massive house. It was less Georgia mansion and more modern with clean lines and chrome.

  Pulling out my ear buds, I exited the SUV without waiting for Jerry and Mark, pulling in a clean breath in the predawn hours. It was quiet; I didn’t feel any kick, no lingering emotions to denote an untrained child of our bloodline.

  Darren exited the house almost running towards us. “Took you three long enough to get here. I’ve been waiting.”

  I gave Mark an annoyed look. “He’s scared, Olivia,” he whispered.

  I reigned in my annoyance, walking towards him. “She awake?” I asked tucking away my mp3 player.

  He flicked a glance toward Mark, running his hands through his disheveled hair. I took a new look at Darren, noticing the black bags under his eyes, which I had originally assumed to be from excessive drinking and partying, the wrinkled outfit, and the fear in his eyes. Mark was right. He was more than scared; he was terrified. True to my form, I was only making things worse not better; I didn’t want to kill anyone tonight.

  “Darren,” I said softly, standing in front of him, easing my tense shoulders and relaxing my stance, “take me to her, please.”

  He searched my eyes, noticing the change. “Olivia, she is everything to me,” he pleaded, his eyes moist.

  “I know,” I said with a small smile
and a gentle touch on his arm. “I will help her.”

  He nodded, turning to lead us inside the house. I turned to find Jerry still in the car. Oh, hell no. I shook my head, indicating he needed to get his ass over here.

  Jogging to catch up with Mark and me, he gave a tentative smile. I ignored him.

  If the outside was modern, the inside was ultra-modern with a side of too sterile for normal. The quick first impression was all I had time to notice as Darren was at the back and up the stairs before I could take a second look. As I jogged after him up the stairs, my calves and quads complained due to the dancing earlier. I pushed on, starting to feel unsettled in the pit of my stomach.

  Darren paused outside an open doorway. I pushed past him, sickened by the sight in front of me. Hannah was strapped down to a small hospital bed, an IV in one arm, feeding tube, and oxygen generating her breathing.

  Slowly, I made my way to her side. The last time I had seen her was two years ago, I guessed. She had been a normal, happy little troublemaker.

  “When did her mother pass?” I asked, pausing at her side, my hands gripping the steel bed frame.

  Without looking away from his dying daughter, Darren answered, “Right after her third birthday.”

  I nodded. “Is there a nurse on call right now?” I asked gently.

  He tore his attention from Hannah, releasing a ragged breath as he answered, “Yes.”

  “Please call her in,” I said, grinding the steel bed frame against my palms.

  Darren left with Mark while Jerry waited in the hallway.

  “Jerry,” I called.

  “Yes, Olie,” he said softly.

  “I’m going to need to you run back to the manor and get a change of clothing for at least a week for me and yourself.” I turned to look at his ashen face. “I also need you to see Grams and have her arrange a replacement for me at Kitten.”

  He nodded. “Please go now,” I said gently.

  Without a word, he was gone. I heard the front door close a few moments later.

  A minute later, Darren and Mark arrived with a disheveled woman in a dark blue robe between them. “What can I help you with?” she asked me rubbing sleep from her eyes.