Suave as Shift

by Keira Blackwood

  “Pick you up first thing tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yeah, okay.” I found myself agreeing and staring hard as he walked away. It wasn’t until after he left that I realized I wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to do.

  Chapter Nine

  Lincoln

  While I slept, I dreamed of her.

  With her pink lips parted, Juliana threw her head back, offering me her bare neck. She was a goddess, taking what she wanted from me, owning me to the very core.

  She held tight to my shoulders, her beautiful breasts heaving against my chest as she rocked her hips over mine, taking me deep.

  “Juliana,” I moaned, kissing every freckle from her ear to her collarbone.

  “Claim me, Lincoln,” she begged, thrusting down and taking every inch. “Make me your mate.”

  Without hesitation, I obliged, sinking my teeth into the soft skin of her neck. She cried out in ecstasy. She cried out in pain.

  My eyes shot open.

  Cock throbbing, back sore, I rolled to my side. Alone. I was alone on the shitty motel mattress.

  It took a minute to realize what had woken me. The buzzing phone vibrated itself off the edge of the nightstand. I caught the throw-away cell mid-air before it hit the floor.

  “Yeah?” No need to check who it was. Only one person had this number, the guy who gave it to me, my adoptive father/mentor/boss Leonard.

  “How’s the job going?” Leonard asked.

  “Fine.” I rubbed a palm over my face, trying to shake the image of Juliana from my brain. “A few more women have been struck.”

  “Comas?” Leonard asked.

  “Yeah. They just disappeared and then showed up nearby, unconscious.”

  “Any sign of the incubus?” Leonard asked.

  He made it sound like I was supposed to know what he was talking about.

  “Incubus,” I said. “No, not yet.”

  “You read the briefing, didn’t you?” Leonard was using his scolding father tone.

  It seemed like the answer was supposed to be yes. “Yes?”

  “You didn’t.” There was a deep exhale on the other end of the line. No use in lying. Even if the man hadn’t known me like he did, he was a shifter, just like me. Leonard could spot a lie in a haystack of truths.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Does any of the evidence you’ve collected support an incubus encounter?” Leonard asked.

  I considered what I knew about incubi. They were male demons who used sex to steal the life force from their victims. The way Juliana had described the event that happened to her sister did make it seem like she was attacked, but that was as far as the story lined up. Unless the demon was shadowy and could do the deed faster than the speed of light, it didn’t seem likely. Plus, there was nothing to support assault in the medical reports. And incubi didn’t use hex bags.

  “Not really.”

  “Incubi are tricky creatures,” Leonard said. “Don’t write off the possibility too soon. Not all attacks look the same on the surface. The time between encounter and symptom can vary, making the incubus more difficult to track.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Yeah.” I still wasn’t buying it. The hex bag had to mean something.

  “What’s your working theory?” Leonard asked.

  “My best guess is a curse.”

  “Hmm.” He clearly wasn’t sold.

  “There was a hex bag at the scene of one of the incidents.”

  “With what inside?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Stinkweed.”

  “Well if you don’t know, find out,” Leonard said. “You need this to be a clean close.”

  “I know.”

  “One more call for witches and I’m not going to be able to stop the Tribunal from—”

  “I know.” I knew what was riding on this case. We both knew what a shit situation it was to lose rank in the Enforcers. I’d get lumped in with a security squad, confined to boring protection missions. The pay was crap, too. I’d have to say goodbye to designer suits. Now that was a sobering thought.

  But none of that changed what was happening in Barbetta. Whether it was an incubus or a witch or something else altogether, I had to get back to it. I needed to pick up Juliana.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said. “Thanks for the check-in.”

  “Good luck, Lincoln,” Leonard said. “And take care.”

  “You, too.” I hung up the phone and threw on a fresh suit.

  Charcoal and pinstripe. Red tie. Fuckin’ snazzy.

  My hair was close to perfect already, with a fresh-out-of-bed look. I put in a little product and raked my fingers through the silky strands to achieve my signature style.

  I looked in the mirror, admiring my put-together, manly perfection. Out of nowhere, for the first time in my amazing self-assured life, I felt something strange, something unwanted. A pang of self-doubt.

  What would Juliana think?

  Strange. Everyone was meant to accept the Adonis that I was, or fuck off.

  But not her. Never her.

  It was an unpleasant idea—could she prefer something else? Someone else?

  I shook the thought. She’d like the suit. I liked the suit.

  The image of Juliana in that yellow sundress filled my head, of creamy caramel skin and soft curves. Of freckles, and little smiles, and rosy cheeks when I made her blush. Of blue eyes as bright as the sky, of the warm feeling that came over me when she was near.

  At first I thought I was imagining her scent—sweet grape and warm vanilla. Then I realized it was real. She was here.

  I opened the door and found her with fist in the air like she was about to knock.

  She opened her mouth and then shut it again, and then she squinted.

  “Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” I said. “I thought I was going to pick you up.”

  She was wearing black shorts like she’d worn when I first met her. Her t-shirt wasn’t black this time, but a soft heather-gray, and lucky for me, tighter fitting.

  “I was tired of waiting,” she said.

  I looked at the phone in my pocket. It was only seven-thirty.

  “Are you ready to go?” she asked. “I was thinking we’d start at the gas station, then head to...where was it that Michaela Scott was found?” There was a sparkle in her eyes, excitement maybe, or cunning and scheming. Whichever it was, I liked it.

  “You don’t know?” I asked. “I thought in a town this small, everyone would know every detail of what happened to each other.”

  “Usually they do.”

  “Hmm.” So this was different. Was it the circumstances that happened to Michaela that was different or was it that Juliana was out of the loop on gossip? Again, it didn’t really change my response. “She was found in her front yard.”

  “Interesting.”

  That was my thought, too. It was interesting that Juliana hadn’t known all of this. I’d expected her to know more than me about everything in the sheriff’s files.

  “So are you ready to go?” she asked. There was a lightness to her presence that wasn’t there the day before. Her blue eyes sparkled. Was she happy? It suited her.

  “Absolutely.”

  The ride was quiet, with Juliana keeping her eyes on the road as she drove, and me trying my best not to think about my dreams.

  At the gas station, Juliana parked and turned to me.

  “I really want to get back to my dad’s library,” she said.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “That symbol on the bag—I know I’ve seen it somewhere. It’s got to be down there in one of those books. After we get done with everything else today we should try looking some more.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  She smiled and hopped out of the beat-up Civic and headed straight for the convenience store.

  A few steps behind, I watched the way she moved. Her hips swayed with each long stride in a rhythmic song played just for me. Her head was high, her shoulders square. She wa
s pure determination, confidence and strength. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was a shifter.

  The bell jingled above the door as we stepped inside.

  “Agent Lollygag,” the man behind the counter said. It took me a second to remember that Agent Lollygag was supposed to be me.

  If I remembered correctly, his name was Vinny or Victor or something along those lines. “Hi…”

  “Vince Shephard,” he said, offering me his hand. “How can I help? Did you find anything new about Lana?”

  Juliana crawled on hands and knees, searching under the racks.

  Vince said, “What are you...what is she doing?”

  “Oh, it’s just protocol,” I said. “You know, being thorough.”

  “But the sheriff already did a sweep,” he said. “You don’t think there’s something in here that could be contagious, do you?” He wiped his hands on his pants and wrinkled his face, like spreading the sweat around would help protect him from the mystery disease.

  “It’s completely possible,” I replied. “You never know what can carry these kinds of things. Could be a rat, or some tainted food. Even something as innocuous as a penny.”

  His eyes shot around wildly.

  I leaned on the counter and offered reassurance with my calming presence.

  He wrinkled his nose. “But the Hammond girl’s supposed to be able to tell what’s poisonous? How is she qualified to do...whatever it is that you’re doing?”

  I bared my teeth in a smile. “She’s scrappy.”

  “Found it.” Her voice carried from around the food rack.

  “What? What is it?” The gas man’s voice rose a little higher with each word. “It’s not a rat, is it? Tell me it’s not a rat.”

  Juliana rose to her feet, black bag in hand, and said to me, “I prefer resourceful to scrappy.”

  “Wait,” the gas man said. “What is that?”

  “Official evidence,” I said, and turned for the door.

  “What do I do now?” he asked. “Is there an infection in the food? Tell me what to do.”

  “Hang tight, and we’ll let you know. In the meantime, try not to lick any surfaces, or breathe too deeply.”

  His eyes went wider, threatening to bulge right out of his face.

  I slipped on my shades and flashed the man a winning smile. Had this been a movie, the sun would have glinted off my perfectly white teeth. I’m sure it did.

  Juliana handed me the bag as we stepped back out into the hot summer sun. “So, partner, when are you going to tell me the truth?”

  “The truth about what?” I asked.

  We climbed back into her car and she started to drive. I assumed she was taking us to the place Michaela Scott fell into a coma. It didn’t seem like a good time to ask.

  She didn’t seem mad or overly tense. In fact, she seemed perfectly calm, like the whole thing was no big deal. But it was a big deal.

  “Why an agent from the CDC would be interested in stinky flowers, or consider a sigil important.” She paused before continuing. “Or why you’d take me as your partner.”

  I’d promised her honesty. I could give her a little. I wanted to. “I’m not with the CDC.”

  “I knew it.” She slammed her hands on the wheel before parking the car on the side of the road.

  Uh oh.

  “But you’re here anyway,” I said.

  “I am.” She wore a smug grin, and I couldn’t read her beyond that.

  “Why would an intelligent woman trust a man she knew was lying?” I asked.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of answer I was expecting—likely a slap in the face and comment about not actually trusting me. In my experience that was a common reaction around this point. But Juliana wasn’t a common woman.

  Her icy blue gaze set on me, freezing me in anticipation.

  “Because she doesn’t think he’s lying to her.”

  She climbed out of the car. I followed.

  The oppressive summer heat paired with swampy humidity for the kind of afternoon that made that most outdoorsy types stay inside.

  I looked over the hood of the car to Juliana, who seemed completely unaffected by the swelter. “Don’t you think that’s a dangerous outlook?”

  “Are you lying to me?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “No.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Okay then, what?” I asked.

  “This is Michaela’s house.”

  “Oh.” I was ready to counter with something epic, something witty and impressive, but she’d gone and changed the subject.

  I looked up at the two-story house with chipped white paint and weathered covered porch. It looked vaguely familiar.

  “So what can you tell me about this place? Is this where she was found? Where she was when she was first afflicted?” Juliana asked.

  I stared into her bright blue eyes, eyes like the sea.

  She raised her brows waiting for an answer, but there was something I had to ask her first. Choosing my words carefully, I asked, “Was your sister seeing anyone that you know about?”

  “Uh, on and off, but not recently.”

  I nodded. Good.

  “Any one-night stands?”

  “Why?”

  “It’s relevant,” I said. “Promise.”

  “No, that’s not like Em.” Her lightness of her expression had shifted away, tightened.

  “No judgement,” I said.

  “It’s been about a month and a half for her,” Juliana said. “She’d tell me if there was someone else.”

  “Good.”

  I didn’t want Leonard to be right. A curse meant we could wake the victims, but if it were really an incubus, we might not be so lucky.

  “You think this is sexually transmitted?” she asked.

  Sexually—hearing that word out of her mouth, damn that was hot. Forget the context. I was tempted to ask her to repeat herself.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Just ruling out some possibilities.”

  “What’s with the smile?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Michaela was found right…” I scanned the small yard, and tried to remember the photo from the file. “There.”

  “You’re changing the subject,” Juliana said.

  “It’s nothing, really.”

  She gave me side eyes, but then let it go. “That’s a great start, but the bag you found at Milly’s Diner was where Emily was grabbed, or charmed, or whatever happened. Not where she ended up. That’s why I checked inside the gas station shop first, instead of in the field.”

  Sharp observation.

  “We don’t know where this woman was before she lay down in the yard,” I said.

  “Right,” Juliana said, “but we can guess she was either in the house or coming home from somewhere else.”

  “The neighbor found her.”

  “I bet I know which one.”

  “You do?”

  “The one that’s always watching everyone. Mrs. Stangable, who’s watching us right now.” Juliana waved and spoke a little louder. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Stangable.”

  Apparently that was enough of an invitation to the middle-aged woman to join us in her neighbor’s yard, because faster than I expected those short legs could move, she was standing beside us and scrutinizing me with wary suspicion.

  “Well if it isn’t Juliana Hammond,” the woman said with a heavy southern accent. “Would you and your debonair boyfriend like to come in for some tea?”

  I liked her already.

  “Why, aren’t you a peach,” I said, taking a step forward.

  Juliana held her arm out, blocking my path. I looked to her for a hint of why she wouldn’t want to take this lovely lady up on her kind offer.

  Juliana’s smile was hollow. “We can’t, I’m sorry to say. This is Agent Lollygag.” She leaned in closer to the tiny woman and whispered, “He’s with the CDC.”

  “Oh my.” She clutched her chest.

  “It’s true,” I flashed her my
badge and my most charming smile.

  “What can you tell us about the night you found Michaela?” Juliana asked.

  “It was the morning, actually.” The woman looked around conspiratorially and leaned in when she spoke. “In the wee hours, I heard a noise. It was voices. Two of them. That’s when I looked out the window.”

  Juliana touched the woman’s hand. “Who did you see?”

  “Michaela was alone. She just lay right down in the grass. I assumed she’d been drinking again. Has a problem with that, just like her mother.”

  “The other voice—” I said.

  “Male, one of her gentleman callers, most like,” Mrs. Stangable replied. “I was sure there was someone else there, but then when I looked outside he was gone.”

  “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Stangable,” I said.

  We turned to go.

  Mrs. Stangable said, “There was a woman later, before the ambulance came.”

  “Oh?” I turned back.

  “She was a big lady, wore a hood. I didn’t get a good look at her, but she wasn’t someone I recognized, which is strange because I know everyone. She touched Michaela’s head and leaned over her.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Stangable. That’s very helpful,” Juliana said.

  “I know,” the woman replied. “That’s why I told the sheriff. But you know how he is, treated me like a nuisance instead of an asset.”

  Juliana nodded knowingly.

  “His loss,” I said. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  “You sure you don’t want to come in? If you aren’t spoken for, it can just be you. Or dinner?”

  “We have to go,” Juliana said, taking my elbow and turning us both toward her car.

  Even through the thick fabric of my suit jacket I enjoyed her touch, her closeness.

  “Nice lady,” I said.

  “Yeah.” Juliana’s tone was flat.

  As we climbed back into the car, my phone rang.

  “Hello again, Leonard.” I answered as I sat down, hyper-aware of Juliana beside me. I’d have to watch what I said to Leonard with her there. I wasn’t going to lie, but there was a lot I still couldn’t say.

  “Agent Lollygag.” The voice did not belong to Leonard.

  “...Yes?”

  “It’s Sheriff Nielson.” His voice was strained, panicked.