Shift Happens

by Carrie Pulkinen

  “Maybe we should do the spell now, before Teresa gets here.” Sophie squeezed his hand and released it. “I’m nervous enough without an audience.”

  “Don’t be.” Crimson took the potion bottle from her pocket and shook it. “I can channel magic all day long. It’s only my own spells that I screw up.”

  Not the slightest bit reassuring. A nervous giggle bubbled from Sophie’s throat. “Wasn’t the whole point of this to keep the pack and the coven from finding out what happened?”

  “Teresa needs to see this with her own eyes, to understand it was an accident, so she can calm the pack down. If they attack before the leaders sit down to discuss it, we’re doomed.”

  “‘Doomed.’” Sophie shuddered. “Now there’s a dramatic word. Can’t you say ‘screwed’ or ‘fucked’? It would sound less ominous.”

  A woman with dark brown hair and hazel eyes approached from the swamp. “I’m afraid everything about this situation is ominous.” She wore Army-green cargo pants and a tight black t-shirt with combat boots.

  A whimper escaped from Sophie’s throat, and she could only assume it was the developing wolf inside her reacting to the Alpha’s presence. The sadness in Trace’s eyes as he held her hand confirmed it.

  “Teresa, this is Sophie and Crimson.” Trace gestured to each of them. “And that’s Jackson.” He pointed to the cat.

  Teresa’s eyes widened as she knelt in front of him. “Jax, is that really you?”

  The cat meowed in response, and Teresa shot to her feet before stomping toward Sophie. “So the witch you tried to defend was the culprit after all.”

  Sophie had the sudden urge to lie on her back and show her belly to the woman, as if that would help the situation, but she squared her shoulders and faced the Alpha. “I didn’t do it.” The moment the woman’s eyes met hers, Sophie was tempted to cower. Instead, she moved next to Trace, seeking comfort in his support.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his side. “Apart from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Sophie had nothing to do with it.”

  “In bed with the enemy again? Are we having a repeat of the nymph incident?” Teresa narrowed her eyes. “What spell did you put on him?”

  Again? The nymph incident? “So that’s why you didn’t want to elaborate on that story.”

  Trace huffed. “This isn’t about me.”

  “I did it.” Crimson stepped forward. “I accidentally turned Jax into a cat.” She explained the sex game and the resulting so-called curse she inadvertently put on the pack. “I had no idea it was affecting all of you.”

  Teresa glared at Trace. “Why was this not reported the moment you found out?”

  “Look at the guy. He’s humiliated.” Trace paused, expecting her to admonish him for his tone. When she didn’t, he continued, “How do you think the rest of the pack will treat him if they find out he voluntarily let a witch turn him into a cat? He’ll lose their respect, lose his rank.”

  She crossed her arms. “I see your point. How are you going to remedy it?”

  “The witches have a spell. Let them work their magic, and then you can take Jackson back to the pack. Tell them he had amnesia. Let them see him alive and well, and they’ll have nothing to go to war over.”

  “Nothing but the fact that one of ours bit one of theirs.”

  “The truce has been in place for a hundred years. I’m sure you can work it out with the coven. If the parents are calm, the high priestess won’t go to war over it.”

  “Maybe, but tempers are already running high.” Teresa bowed her head at Sophie. “My apologies for accusing you. If you can return him to his natural form, the pack will be in your debt.”

  Crimson tossed Sophie the potion bottle and rubbed her hands together. “Let’s do this.”

  Sophie sprinkled the potion on Jax, who answered with an offended hiss. “Do you want to be a cat forever?” Sophie scolded. “Chill.”

  Crimson handed Sophie her grandmother’s handwritten incantation, and Sophie tried not to picture the corpse she’d used to write it. It was an image she couldn’t unsee. With Crimson’s hands sandwiching her head, Sophie scanned the words on the page, then read them aloud.

  “A simple mistake made difficult to break.

  With this potion, I set in motion

  a spell to reverse your current hell.”

  Something in her core popped and fizzed, like a can of soda that had been shaken before it was opened. The fizziness had to be the magic, but it flowed up to her shoulders and down to her hips, threatening to spread out to her limbs. She tried to gather it up, to focus it into Jax, but the magic foam slipped through her metaphorical fingers, and panic began to flush it out.

  “Hold on, honey. I got it.” Crimson did something. Whatever it was, it pulled the fizzy magic back into a ball inside Sophie’s chest. Crimson lifted Sophie’s arm, and the foam rolled down, past her elbow and out her fingertips, slapping Jax and knocking him over as if he’d been struck by a car.

  Crimson released her, and Sophie gasped, slumping into Trace’s side as nausea threatened to give her dinner a reappearance. “Nobody told me spell-casting hurts.” She rubbed her burning chest, letting Trace carry most of her weight.

  “The big ones always do,” Crimson said. “You get used to it.”

  Get used to pain? No thanks.

  Jackson lifted his kitty head, blinking his feline eyes, and Sophie’s heart sank. “It didn’t work.”

  “Give it a minute,” Crimson said.

  A fog gathered around Jackson’s form, and golden flecks danced in a swirling pattern above him before swooping down like a tornado and enveloping him in sparkling magic. As the storm dissipated, a man stood in the leaf pile. He had dark brown hair and brown eyes…the same man from the unfinished painting in Crimson’s loft.

  He was muscular like Trace, though not as big and not quite as hairy. Sophie’s gaze traveled down over chiseled abs, and oh my word. “Well, that answers my question. All werewolves are hung like horses. Damn. Did anyone think to bring him some clothes?”

  Trace took off his jacket and offered it to Jackson. “It’s good to have you back, buddy.”

  Jax refused the clothing. “It’s good to be back. Teresa.” He glanced at the Alpha before lowering his gaze. “Everything they told you was true. My own embarrassment stopped me from seeking help from the pack, and I realize now that was a mistake. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit for my crimes.”

  Teresa nodded. “Right now, you need to head home, get some clothes, and meet me at the den. We’ve got a pack to settle down.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thanks for your help, guys. Crimson…I’ll uh. I’ll call you.” He shifted into his wolf form and bounded away.

  Crimson shook her head. “That boy’s never going to call me again.”

  Sophie laughed. “Can you blame him?”

  “Not really.”

  “Sophie!” Jane appeared in the clearing and ran toward her, but she only made it three steps before her heels sank into the soft earth and her ankle twisted. She stumbled, stepping out of her shoes and continuing the trek barefoot. “You could have told me we were meeting you in the middle of the swamp. I’d have dressed for the occasion.”

  “I thought you knew werewolves were the outdoorsy type.” Sophie forced a smile, her apprehension stopping it from being genuine.

  “You know them better than I do. Now, who’s your favorite vampire in the whole wide world?” Jane held up a corked glass bottle. “I had to ask my father for help obtaining this, and you know how I feel about asking him for help.”

  Trace gave Sophie’s shoulder a squeeze before he released her and paced to the edge of the clearing with his Alpha. They talked in hushed voices, and if she tried, Sophie might have been able to make out what they said. She didn’t need to hear their words to understand Trace’s disappointment.

  Jane had come through with time to spare, which, deep down, Sophie knew she would. If she drank
it now, it would stop the werewolf mutation, and she’d remain a witch for the rest of her life. She glanced at Trace, catching his gaze, but he didn’t smile.

  Sophie took the potion from Jane. “Thanks, babe. I owe you one.”

  “If you knew what I went through to get that, you’d think it’s worth at least twenty, but we’ll call it even. Consider it an engagement present. All your dreams are coming true.”

  “You’re right. They are.” Sophie peered at the pale blue potion in her hand, a feeling of resolve washing over her. “I finally understand the last line of my grandmother’s prophecy.”

  “What does it mean?”

  She looked at Jane. “I’ve found everything, and I have to lose it all. I have to lose my magic.”

  “What?” Jane looked at her like she was crazy, and maybe she was. But Sophie knew what she had to do.

  Turning on her heel, she marched toward Trace, her long strides quickening into a jog as she neared him. Teresa grimaced at her phone, and Trace’s expression was solemn.

  “The witch’s parents are starting to freak,” he said. “It’s an hour until midnight, and she’s starting to grow fur.”

  “Here.” Sophie handed the bottle to Teresa.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a potion that will stop the mutation. Get it to the girl and have her drink it before midnight.”

  Teresa stared at the potion, a look of awe in her eyes. “Where did you get this? My entire life, I’ve only heard of two witches capable of creating such a spell.”

  “One of them was my grandmother. Consider it a peace offering. If I’m going to join your pack, I want everyone to know there are no hard feelings.”

  “Sophie.” Trace shook his head.

  “Go.” Sophie gripped Teresa’s shoulder. “You’re running out of time.”

  “Thank you.” Teresa bowed her head and then sprinted into the trees.

  Trace swallowed hard, his lips twitching as an array of emotions crossed his face. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he let his gaze roam around her face, his feelings seeming to seep into her body through his eyes and his touch. “You gave up your chance to have all your dreams come true to save a little girl and keep the peace in my pack. You never cease to amaze me.”

  “Becoming a witch was a dream, but it wasn’t all of them. It definitely wasn’t my innermost dream.” She tapped a finger to his chest. “The one you’re supposed to make come true.”

  He raised his eyebrows, silently urging her to continue.

  “I thought I wanted to become a witch and have magical powers and all that jazz, but what it really boils down to is…my innermost dream has been right in front of me all along. All I’ve wanted all my life is to belong somewhere. To have a group of people I can count on and a place that feels like home. I already have that here with you. I don’t need to be able to cast spells. Besides, magic kinda hurts.”

  He shook his head, still unbelieving. “You’re going to turn into a werewolf.”

  “I know. Will your pack accept me?”

  “Of course they will. You’ll be one of us, and…” He pressed his lips together.

  “And?”

  “And you’ll be with me. I love you, Sophie.”

  She stepped into his arms and wrapped hers around his waist as she glimpsed Jane and Crimson standing off to the side. Crimson gave her two thumbs up, and Jane clutched her hands over her chest, making heart eyes at them.

  “You mentioned some perks to werewolves mating within their species.” She brushed a kiss to his lips. “What are they?”

  “Our strength doubles.”

  “Mmm… Stamina too? Not that you’re lacking.” She laced her fingers behind his neck.

  He chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Mated werewolves stop aging. Not completely, but it slows tremendously. Teresa is a hundred and fifty.”

  Sophie gaped. “She doesn’t look a day over thirty!”

  Jane snickered. “You should have told her that from the get-go. It would’ve saved you both a lot of trouble.”

  “Go ahead and laugh.” Sophie pulled a face over her shoulder at her friend. “This just means I’ll be around to taunt you forever and ever.”

  “I’m looking forward to every minute of it.” Jane hugged them both. “You’ve got ten minutes before you sprout fur and howl at the moon with your man. Call me later and let me know how it goes.” She turned to Crimson. “How about that drink we talked about?”

  Crimson smiled. “I’m down. See you later, Sophie.”

  As her friends left the clearing, Sophie looked into Trace’s dark honey eyes and grinned. “I’m going to be a werewolf.”

  “A wolf I’d like to wear all night.”

  She laughed. “Are you aware of the pun you just made, wolf?”

  His face turned serious. “Are you aware that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, which will be a really, really long time if you agree.”

  “I am.”

  “Will you be my mate?”

  “I will.”

  He grinned wickedly. “Good, now take off your clothes so we can howl at the moon.”

  Epilogue

  Turning into a wolf wasn’t as weird as Sophie imagined it would be. Once the fur sprouted over her entire body, it wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassing. In fact, from the look in Trace’s eyes, she must have been the hottest wolf in the forest.

  Hunting wasn’t as icky as she expected either. Trace took her through the woods, searching for prey, and once she figured out how to let go and let the wolf part of her take the lead, she caught her dinner and satiated the canine hunger like she was made to be a wolf.

  After the hunt, they ran. And ran and ran. No wonder Trace was solid, sexy muscle. Sophie hadn’t exercised this hard since she tried losing five pounds the week before her high school prom. Of course, then she’d overdone it, pulled a muscle and limped her way through the school dance. Tonight, she was a beast. Literally.

  They ran for hours, never tiring, and only stopping for a drink from a nearby stream. As they circled back around, Trace poured on the speed, pouncing on her, and they tumbled through the grass until a small cabin came into view. It had a wrap-around porch and brown shuttered windows, and Sophie knew without even having to ask him with her thoughts, it was Trace’s home.

  She looked at him, and he sent his thoughts to her mind. “If you’re ready to stand upright again, we can go inside and test your stamina theory.”

  Sophie gazed at the full moon, shining brightly above the cabin, and a calmness washed over her. Here, in the forest with Trace, was exactly where she belonged. Giddy happiness bubbled in her core and came out in a beautiful howl.

  Trace howled along with her, until the faint sound of other wolves howling in the distance drifted on the air. Everything about this moment felt right. There was no reason to end it by going inside. Instead, she focused, and though she’d never been taught how to shift, she just did it, as if it were ingrained in her soul.

  Trace’s canine eyebrows shot up as he took in her form lying naked in the grass, and he shifted quickly before covering her body with his and making love to her beneath the moon.

  Sophie was fully accepted and integrated into the pack. She split her nights between Trace’s house on the outskirts of town and her apartment in the French Quarter, and her new duties in the pack, along with her dog-walking business, kept her so busy, she couldn’t tell her head from her tail.

  Two weeks after her first shift, she finally had a moment to breathe, so she did what any newly-turned werewolf woman would do and had a girls night out with a witch and a vampire. She met Jane at Evangeline’s Coffee Shop ten minutes before closing and sat on a barstool next to her BFF while Crimson closed up.

  “I had my first peace-keeping assignment yesterday.” She straightened a stack of napkins on the counter.

  “And how did it go?” Jane asked.

  Cr
imson slid onto the stool next to her. “Oh, yeah. Tell us all about it.”

  Sophie shrugged. “It was rather uneventful. There’s a group of bobcat shifter sisters who like to get into it with the wolves every now and then. Trace says the meetings usually involve lots of shouting, and sometimes they meet up after and fight.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you had to fight a bobcat.”

  “Oh, goodness, no. You know me better than that. All I had to do was remind them to chill out every now and then, and they actually came to an agreement over territory. First time in thirty years, so I hear.”

  “Wow.” Crimson smiled. “Look at you, already an asset to your pack.”

  “She makes a great werewolf, doesn’t she?” Jane asked.

  “Definitely.” Crimson stood. “Are you ladies ready to go?”

  As Sophie and Jane followed Crimson toward the front door, a short, heavy-set woman strutted through. She wore black leggings and a deep burgundy tunic, and her dark hair hung in long braids around her shoulders.

  Crimson froze, gripping Sophie’s arm until her nails dug into her skin. “Fuck me,” she whispered under her breath. “That’s the high priestess.”

  The woman stopped in front of Crimson and shoved a white card toward her. “You’re summoned to be judged by the council of elders.”

  Crimson took the card. “Judged for what?”

  “Misuse of magic, lying under oath, conspiracy with the werewolves…” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “You’re lucky I’m listening to my advisors, or I’d have bound your magic already.”

  “What misuse of magic?” Jane crossed her arms. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Tell that to the werewolf she turned into a cat.”

  Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know that? The pack swore to secrecy.”

  The priestess raked her gaze over Sophie and lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “Her ex-lover has a thirteen-year-old sister. Teens love to talk. Word got back to the coven.” She turned to Crimson. “Lying under oath is reason enough to bind your powers on its own.”