Cursed Wolf: Urban Fantasy Shifter Stand-Alone (Creatures of the otherworld Book 1)

by Brogan Thomas

  Use it? I stuff that sucker on my left wrist so fast, Jodie hasn’t even finished telling me about it. Jodie gives me a bright smile and shakes her head at me. She pours me another cup of tea and continues. “It is scent-masker magic. It will change your scent entirely and regularly. So even standing directly in front of a shifter, you will smell like a regular mixed human. Oh…” Jodie springs up and returns with an old box, which she places on the table with a thump. “By the time I'm finished with you, these wolf shifters will not know that you're standing directly in front of them. Even your hellhound friend won’t recognise you with this next beauty.”

  “Ooh, is it a glamour?” I ask cautiously. Jodie rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

  “No, not a glamour—a lot of strong creatures can see through them. Nope, what you need and what I have here, Forrest, is disguise magic,” Jodie whispers conspiratorially. Ooooh.

  I leave Jodie’s shop hours later, a scrap of paper with a phone number clutched in my hand and my pockets full of shiny fun-filled potion balls. On the good-news front, after checking, Jodie confirmed that my other potion balls had survived my shifts. Which is fantastic news as it tells me that my new magical bracelets will also shift with me without an issue.

  On my left wrist, I have my fantastic scent masker, and on my right wrist, I have the disguise bracelet. The disguise magic isn’t active all the time, unlike the scent-masker magic. With the disguise bracelet, I have to put my fingers on it and say the word Betty—which activates the spell.

  It was hilarious, choosing what I wanted to look like. There’s nothing like giggling at yourself while looking in the mirror and you have a giant nose and a massive chin. Spending time with Jodie lifted my spirits. I feel lighter.

  In the end, because my voice is so deep and husky, we decided on an old-lady disguise, and “Betty” is perfect. I still have my build, height, and hair colour—blue rinse used to be a thing, so why not pink? Popping my hair into a bun, I will be good to go. The less we alter with magic, the less chance of the spell being discovered. Brown eyes, a sharp nose, and lots of wrinkles, happy human wrinkles. Like a lifetime spent laughing and smiling. Shifters don’t show our age with lines like humans; our age isn’t stamped on our faces and bodies. No, age is measured by the level of power that radiates beyond normal senses. Once a shifter hits their natural maturity, their prime—normally a human-looking thirty to forty years—the body doesn't age. Shifters don’t care about age; it’s all about power.

  With a little bit of artistic dressing up, even if it’s just a coat, Granny Betty will be good to go, the perfect disguise.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When I arrive back at the apartment building, I find out that John has been in contact and wants to speak to me immediately. Apparently, he wants to discuss what happened today with Daniel and the whole kidnapping thing. I’ve no idea how he found out so quickly.

  When John answers my video call, he looks livid. For a second, I’m pleased to see how upset he is on my behalf.

  That thought ends up being hugely presumptive.

  “I had an interesting telephone call with Councillor Daniel Kerr.” I freeze and my face blanks. Oh bloody hell, stalker Daniel is a council member. Fuck my life. I observe John with growing trepidation.

  “You do realise, Forrest, that having a member of the council calling me about my unruly sister is completely unacceptable. What the fuck have you been doing to piss off one of the most important shifters in the country!” John roars.

  Shock fills me, and in response, my magic tingles and my fingers partially shift to claws: off-camera, Owen grunts in surprise. I grimace. This conversation isn’t supposed to go this way. I bite my lip and twist my hands in my lap. The claws on my left hand inadvertently dig into my thigh, and the scent of my blood permeates the air. Owen promptly takes hold of my hand in silent support, and more than likely to stop me from further shredding my leg.

  Unaware, my brother continues to berate me. “The councilman explained what happened today in detail.” John rubs the back of his neck and growls, “We decided the whole incident was your fault, clearly due to your lack of life experience. I am so disappointed in you, Forrest—you behaved like a manic child. You obviously misinterpreted the entire interaction with the councilman. Our mother would be ashamed of your erratic behaviour.”

  My stomach jolts when he mentions my mum. The memory of my mum that day at the warehouse tries to smash into the forefront of my mind. No, that flashback shit is not happening. I grab the memory and stuff it back into its box. No, hell no.

  John is wrong; I know in my heart that my mum would understand, unequivocally.

  “Daniel Kerr was not trying to kidnap you or do anything inappropriate. Bloody hell, you stupid girl, the notion that a council member would try to capture you is utterly ridiculous.” John shakes his head and curls his lip; his disgust with me is apparent, and it is written on every line of his furious face.

  I gather my courage and open my mouth to respond to his unfair accusations. The determination to stick up for myself throbs through my whole body.

  “He—"

  “No! I’m talking.” John cuts me off with a snarl and holds his hand up to silence me further.

  My eyes burn as I stare at my brother, silently communicating my hurt.

  “Daniel said you assaulted him. Forrest, you assaulted a council member! He could have been seriously hurt. He also mentioned that prior to the assault, he had to intervene in your attack on an innocent female shifter. What the fuck is wrong with you! You need professional help! I convinced the councilman not to take any legal action, and lucky for you he won’t be involving the hunters. But we decided between ourselves that you cannot be trusted.” Confusion swirls inside of me, and my heart hammers in my ears. It takes everything in my power to sit quietly and not react. Owen squeezes my hand as I struggle to remain outwardly calm. I draw in another shaky, painful breath.

  “Daniel was also concerned about how you left his car in such a dangerous fashion. The window, Forrest, really?” John continues his lecture. “Daniel has offered, at his own expense, his well-trained shifters to take over your bodyguard duty. From now on, when you want to leave the building, they will accompany you. The hellhounds are too busy to deal with you and your shenanigans.” John shakes his head in frustration and disappointment.

  Daniel has played John well. What a manipulative bastard. I’ve not got a clue how I’m going to deal with this. Well played, Daniel, well played.

  “I did decline the invitation for you to go and live with him.” Well, that’s real magnanimous of him, refusing my kidnaper full-time access. “I feel as if you’ve had enough upheaval. But I’m warning you now, Forrest Hesketh, one more mistake and I will wash my hands of you.” He meets my gaze, and another growl slips between his teeth. John is terrifying when he loses his temper, and at the moment, he is holding himself together with the thinnest of threads. “You need professional help. Daniel will be arranging that for you. I don’t know how you got so fortunate, gaining his favour. Especially after everything you have done.” John shakes his head. “The councilman is a better man than myself.” John rubs the back of his neck again.

  In a quieter voice, he says, “What did I expect from a feral wolf? You behave like an animal, and I will treat you like one. If I could put you on a lead, I would.” I suck in a breath. Wow, fucking harsh, a lead? Really, John? Why not get me another electric collar while you are at it? “Now, you’ve wasted enough of my time. I’ve got to get back to work. Behave yourself.” John ends the call without a goodbye.

  I sit in the chair feeling numb. I huff in frustration. Why the hell did I mention that today couldn’t get any worse? Bloody Murphy’s Law.

  Fuck my life.

  I close my eyes and repeatedly bang the back of my head on the seat. That whole conversation escalated quickly. Technically I did claw Daniel in self-defence, but what the fuck! He did the assaulting. Now John has invited this powerful and dangero
us man further into my life.

  If I hadn’t spoken to Jodie today, I might have been persuaded that I’d overreacted. The cruel things John said... “One more mistake, and I will wash my hands of you.” So easy for him to say, and to believe Daniel’s bullshit.

  To not ask me for my truth.

  I appraise my bleeding leg. The cuts are shallow. I sigh. I have ruined my leggings.

  Daniel, the bastard, has manoeuvred us all around like chess pieces and has gotten his own way. A tear rolls down the side of my nose, and I use my shoulder to wipe it away.

  I need to hit the gym. I need to beat the crap out of something, and after I am a sweaty mess, I need to spend a few hours meditating. If I don’t, I am liable to go hunt Daniel, that fucker, down and show him what assault really looks like. While he’s on the floor bleeding, I want to scream and shout at him for frightening me in that car, for turning my brother against me.

  No.

  I bet he’s counting on me reacting like that, without thinking. Going after him with all guns blazing will play right into his hands. Acting like the animal that John claims me to be.

  A sob wrenches itself out between my lips. I screw my eyes closed tight.

  The best thing I can do is play it smart, keep my head down, and don’t react. I am not bloody playing Daniel’s sick game.

  Daniel needs to think I am scared prey, weak, without friends. To enforce that belief, it might be best if I didn't leave my apartment. With my years stuck in wolf form I have a history of being left in a horrible situation. So this is what he would expect anyway. A predictable pattern of response, to lull him into making a mistake—and given enough rope, he will hang himself.

  I think about my brothers and the pieces of my soul that they have destroyed today. I have grown up with neglect and constant pain from my supposed loved ones. Hell—I shake my head—it’s easy for me to acclimatise to the callousness of this world, as I expect to be kicked while I’m down. I’ve dealt with this shit before. Mental and physical abuse—yeah, we’re well acquainted.

  Life is bloody unfair.

  It’s how you deal with it that defines you, and I refuse to be a bitter, horrible person who’s ruled by my rage.

  Why do the men in my life do this? Why are they so fucking cruel?

  “That was a bit unfair,” Owen says. I open my eyes and blink up at him. I realise we are still holding hands; he has been so quiet, letting me think. Huh, not all the men in my life. I squeeze his hand in a silent thank you. “Will you please tell me what happened?” I let go and poke at my claws. I peek up and give my friend a sad smile, and another blasted tear rolls down my cheek. As I did with Jodie, I start from the beginning.

  After I’ve finished, Owen’s angry energy rips around the room. He sucks in a sharp breath, then lets it out in a huff. Eyeing me, he growls.

  “John needs to be told—”

  “Please, he won’t believe me. You heard him. Please, Nanny Hound, you don’t have to fight with my brother or Daniel. I…I won’t be anyone’s burden.” The wobble in my voice is pathetic. “It will play right into Daniel's hands. I need to pick my battles and not show my hand.” I then go on to explain my thinking and theory.

  I meet Owen’s gaze; there’s fear and anger in his grey eyes. Owen cares about me. I try to convey how grateful I am. My eyes sting and my chest burns. He visibly swallows, scrubs a hand over his face, and manages a surly grunt and a stiff nod.

  “Okay.” Owen then checks me over; he nods once when he’s reassured I’m not an inch away from death. He ruffles my hair like I’m a kid. I then get a whole ten-minute lecture on why getting into a stranger’s car is so dangerous. The normality of being told off pulls me away from the teetering edge of hysteria. The warm hug after the stranger-danger talk also helps.

  Owen agrees that both the scent masker and disguise magic is a good idea. The less my movements now are tracked, the better.

  We both decide that I’m on lockdown and I can’t leave my apartment, let alone the building. Not with the new set of shiny henchmen, erm, I mean the bodyguards that will be patrolling. Heck, how much are you betting it will be the Meatheads on guard duty? As I am planning sneaky ways to escape, perhaps learning to abseil, Owen tells me about portal doors.

  “We have portals? How did I not know that portals were a thing?”

  “They are a witch-created gateway system attached to other portals all over the world, using ley line magic,” Owen explains. “You have to have permission to go anywhere and know the gateway codes. Otherwise, you’re gonna get an unpleasant, possibly even fatal greeting by a ward on the other side.” There are local portals all over the city. Owen promises to give me the local codes and the world-gateway portal map later to memorise.

  The laziness appeals to me, never mind the stealthiness. The thought of being able to go anywhere in the world instantaneously is mind-boggling. The world is a small place with magic.

  Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to play with the newly discovered doorways, because this building doesn't have one.

  Owen takes his phone out of his pocket. “I have a lady friend who is a gateway witch.” I grin at him. “I can call her—"

  “Oh, you have a friend…” I wiggle my eyebrows. Owen is mortified at my teasing. Which encourages me to run my fingers through my hair, flutter my lashes, and pout my lips in a poor impersonation of his hypothetical lady friend. He grimaces in abject horror. I laugh and make grabby hands for his phone. Owen places his big hand on my face and holds the phone out of my reach.

  “Stop it. I thought you were having some kind of epileptic fit—don’t do that again. Not that kind of friend, Forrest. I can get her to come and install a new gateway in your apartment this evening. The expense will be ridiculous but worth it. Thank God you're rich. I have another witch that owes me a favour, who should be able to come and install a ward after.” I bounce on my seat. Whoop! My own portal. “The apartment ward will be extra security; I am thinking to keep this Daniel out of the building will prove impossible. He’s a council member with high status. That makes him almost untouchable. It doesn’t help that John owns the building and apartments. I could still talk to him...?” I shake my head. “Okay, we pick our battles and not show our hand.” Owen repeats what I said before, meaningfully. “So setting the building ward to blast Daniel or his people, although amusing, would be foolish. So we set a ward to keep them out of your apartment and stop them from getting to you. Meanwhile, you can pretend that you are sitting in your apartment, sulking. It will give us time to find a solution to this mess.” Yay. We have a plan. Owen stands and pulls me up from the sofa. “We will use your roof garden for training—using the gym will be out for some time. Starting now, you're on lockdown.

  “Right then. Come on, Forrest, get changed. I’m gonna drill you on pressure points, eye-gouging, and your ground game. We also need to make sure those claws don’t keep popping out willy-nilly.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When I was leaving Jodie’s shop earlier, she stuffed a slip of paper into my hand, insisting that I needed it. On the paper was a phone number for a group that helped creatures in trouble. Jodie swore they were the real deal and that if anyone had any unbiased information on shifter law and how to deal with problems like Daniel, these would be the people to badger. I took the number to be polite. I originally had zero intention of phoning. Jodie must be psychic.

  With my stalker slash kidnapper biting at my heels, I have to do something proactive. I have no real allies. Of course, Owen is on my side. But I can’t expect him to put his career and his life on the line for me. What kind of person would I be if I did that? The same goes for Jodie. I’ve made the sad decision to keep away from my witch friend until this thing with Daniel has calmed down. I don’t want to get the witches involved. This isn’t their fight. Daniel is too dangerous.

  I ring the number, but I don’t get a response.

  A few hours later, after the witches have installed my new ward and portal, I’m
making a cup of tea and my phone rings. I glance at the handset curiously. Who the heck is calling? No one ever calls me. Staring at the phone like a weirdo won’t give me that information, so I think, Fuck it, and answer.

  “Hello?” I say cautiously.

  “Forrest? I’m returning your call…you seem to have a council-member problem? Are you okay?” I pull the phone away and blink at it. Huh.

  “Everything’s a little bit of a mess,” I say guardedly. That’s a massive understatement.

  “Yeah, I get that. Let me introduce myself. My name is Ava, and I’m a security expert. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I normally vet my callers before speaking to them, and sometimes that can take a while. In your case, I spent the time productively, gathering available evidence. I am happy to tell you I have footage of today’s kidnap attempt.”

  “You have…footage?” I whisper disbelievingly. “How did you know…what type of footage?” I close my eyes and bite my lip. Please be ringing to help me. Oh please, I beg to the universe.

  “Yes, of both kidnap attempts. Don’t forget, Councilman Kerr has tried this twice now.” I can hear the faint tapping of a keyboard down the earpiece. “Camera footage from the lights when you jumped out of the car, footage from the café. Oh, and my pièce de résistance: surprisingly, I also have footage from the car.”

  “Oh my God.” I make a sort of gurgling noise. The sound gets stuck in my throat and turns into a whine. I wobble and almost drop my tea. I manage to slide the cup onto the counter before I sink gracelessly to the floor in the middle of the compact kitchen.