by Erin Johnson
Peter stiffened next to me. Great—at this rate, he’d probably handcuff me to him and refuse to let me go.
Horace, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black jeans, shrugged. “We wouldn't need to fight off all the shifters. We could change form, blend in with the other animals, and escape.”
Peter let out a choked sound and gripped my hand tighter. “Not Jolene—she’s lost her powers, remember?”
The prince squared his shoulders. “We won’t abandon you, Jolene.” He looked between Peter and me, his expression grave. “I give you my word.”
Horace raised his brows. “No promises here.”
The princess shot him an exasperated look.
Iggy spoke up from the lantern in her hand, peeking through the shutters. “Jolene hasn’t lost all her powers—it’s not like she’s totally defenseless.”
I nodded. “Thanks.” It was nice to have some support.
The little flame huffed, embers floating from his mouth. “Yeah, I mean, she could talk to the horde of shifter animals descending upon you all if things went south, right? Like, ‘Hey, tiger man, please don’t eat our faces off!’”
Princess Imogen shook her head at him. “So helpful.”
Peter sucked in a breath, as if he was about to put the flame in his place, but I leaned close and whispered, “He’s kidding.”
My boyfriend turned his pale face to me, lips pressed tight together, and gave a slight nod. I nodded back and forced a tight smile. “It’ll be okay.”
Daisy growled. Lie.
What little color Peter had drained from his face.
I flashed my eyes at her, then turned to face Peter. “Okay, I don’t know for certain it will, and I’m pretty scared, too.” I shot Daisy a flat look. “How about that?”
She wagged her tail and whined. True.
“But I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think we had a good chance of it working. I’ve got some powerful folks on my side.” Though one of them might be a bloodthirsty ancient being who could smell my body odor from a mile away, and another was a wanted criminal in every kingdom.
I turned to said wanted criminal. “Horace—did you know Ludolf shifted into a heron?”
He shook his head. “No.” A wry smile tugged at the corner of his full lips. “And I know everything.”
Iggy scoffed. “And they say evil geniuses aren’t humble.”
I looked back up at Peter’s drawn face. “See? This is our best chance.” I stepped closer. “Now wish me luck. The sooner we get going, the sooner we get this over with.”
“I don’t like this.” His eyes brimmed with tears. “But I know it’s our best shot, and I believe in you. Good luck, Jolene.” He leaned his forehead against mine and whispered, “I love you.”
Daisy’s tail wagged. True.
My own eyes stung with tears. “I love you, too.” Man, I hoped this wasn’t the last time I got to say that to him. Ever since I’d been cursed and lost my fiancé, my career, all my money—I’d been in survival mode. Now that my life was filling up again, with love, excitement, purpose, and friends, I stood to lose it all. And I wasn’t going to let that happen—not again, and certainly not because of Ludolf Caterwaul.
I rose on my toes and kissed Peter, full and deep, while Iggy let out a wolf whistle. After I reluctantly pulled away and sank back down onto my heels, a pink flush rose to Peter’s cheeks.
I grinned. “Good to see you have some color back.” Before Daisy could react, I reached down and scratched her head. I’d expected her to pull away, but she let me pet her and even looked up and gave me the tiniest lick on my hand. She whined. Good luck. You’re kind of a disaster—you need it.
I grinned at her and woofed. Thanks, you mangy mutt.
I sucked in a breath, tightened my hand around the vial of potion, and nodded at the others. “Alright—let’s do this.”
36
LUDOLF CATERWAUL
No one spoke as we trudged through the sewers. The only sounds were our splashing feet, the chirping rats scurrying along the edges, and the drip of water echoing through the round tunnels. Francis winged overhead in bat form, and the prince, princess, and Horace took on the forms of Neo, Sacha, and Viktor. I clutched the vial of potion tightly in my hand, looking down at it every few minutes, as if it might spontaneously disappear.
My nerves made my steps stiff and jerky, and I held my shoulders tight, jaw clenched. As much as I reminded myself to breathe, I didn’t think I would again until this was all over. Every flicker of a torch, every echo of sound, and I was convinced someone had been alerted to our presence and Ludolf’s army of guards was about to descend on us.
But despite my fears, we made it through to the older part of the sewers where the bricks crumbled and the tunnels grew narrower, the ceiling so low that Horace, in Sacha’s enormous form, had to duck his bald head. When the reddish glow that always shone from the potion lair bounced off the walls ahead, my legs nearly buckled. We’d arrived.
The prince, in Neo’s form, took the lead position, while wiry Imogen/Viktor and brutish Horace/Sacha closed in tight on either side of me. We walked silently on, then ducked through the crumbling entrance into the round potions room. Glass bottles and decanters lined the stone shelves of the round room, a cauldron bubbled as always over the fire in the walk-in hearth, and the three ancient witches hunched over their work at the tall, cluttered tables.
They glanced up as one when we entered and hissed like cats.
I gulped. Oh, goodie. Already going well.
From the shadows by the file-filled cabinet we’d raided, Ludolf himself rose from a stool, unfolding his long, thin legs. The fire cast his shadow, long and skeletal and flickering against the wall, looming over us. Even from all the way across the room, I could see his eyes bulging with rage, his thin lips pulled back from his small, sharp teeth.
He ducked his head, bony shoulders up around his ears, and slowly stalked toward us. “Jolene.” His face twitched with barely concealed fury. “How nice of you to come back after borrowing my property.”
He swept a long, thin hand at the cabinet full of papers and files. “One of my soldiers spotted you entering the tunnels and alerted me. I’m so pleased they weren’t mistaken.”
I spun, as if to run, but the princess/Viktor and Sacha/Horace caught me by the arms and held me. I put on an act of struggling, but they spun me around to face the mob boss of the shifters.
“Coward,” he spat.
I curled my lip back. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. You sold out your own people for money and power.” I glared at him. “The little lap dog of King Roch—never good enough to have any actual power or status.”
He paused briefly, then stalked toward me, his skin red and blotchy. Princess Imogen/Viktor cackled and twitched—a toned-down version of her first performance. I’d given her a few tips, and she was doing a better job of imitating him this time—though it was hard to imagine her behind that tattooed, gaunt facade. I rolled the vial in my right hand, concealed behind Sacha/Horace’s beefy forearm, and ran my thumb over the cork stopper—ready to pop it off.
Francis, in bat form, squeaked and swooped overhead. I shot him a perplexed look, but then focused on the mob boss who approached me.
I bared my teeth at Ludolf as he stalked closer, only about ten feet away now. “You can do your worst to me, but powerful people know what you’ve done, now. You’re over with.” I waited—willing him just a little closer.
Francis, as a bat, dove closer to my head.
“You idiot meddler.” Ludolf shivered with anger, muscles in his sharp jaw twitching. “You stupid, stupid girl. You’ve sealed your fate. As if I didn’t have a backup plan. As if I don’t have friends in high places to bail me out. As if I couldn’t leave this island a rich man and disappear to live my days out in luxury!”
His deadly calm dropped as he shrieked at me and stalked closer, eyes bulging, face apoplectic. “You’re the only one who's over! You’ll pay for your—�
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Ludolf froze, some of the color draining from his face. He pulled back, brows pinched in confusion. “What is this?”
I frowned at him, then glanced at the prince/Neo. He looked behind us, eyes wide, mouth slack with fear. I turned, and ice flooded over me. The real Neo, Sacha, and Viktor stood in the tunnel behind us, mouths agape, eyes wide. We all stood, as if paralyzed, for what felt like several long moments.
Horace/fake Sacha nudged me and growled. “Do it—now.”
He released my arm, as did the princess/Imogen. I uncorked the vial with my thumb and stalked the last few feet up to Ludolf as he growled at the real Neo, “Get them!”
I glared up at the skeletal man who’d stolen my ability to shift, my powers, my life, for so long. The man who’d trapped shifters in their second forms and sold them to a zoo, who’d trapped my friend Will in poverty and servitude, who’d profited from the discrimination against his own people.
I squared my shoulders as cries and grunts sounded behind me, along with the scuffle of feet. The hunched witches together let out a sustained shriek, a wailing alarm that echoed through the tunnels.
Just as Ludolf opened his mouth, no doubt to cast some spell on me, I threw the vial of purple potion into his face. I clutched the empty glass vial in my trembling hand and watched him, breathless. Would it work? Or was this the end for me?
With a strangled cry, Ludolf suddenly shifted into heron form. I blinked, stunned, then lurched forward and tackled the bird, wrapping my legs around his wings and getting a choke hold around his long neck. With my other hand I pinched his long, sharp beak shut, mindful of that charming story he’d told me once about how herons liked to peck the eyes out of their prey.
He thrashed and groaned, but I held tight to him, straining to restrain him. The old witches kept their screaming alarm up, and I glanced behind me. Horace, Prince Harry, and Princess Imogen were back in their normal forms, glowing palms aimed at the real Neo, Sacha, and Viktor, who held their hands up.
With that somewhat under control, I focused on wrestling Ludolf to submission. With a final wrench, he lay panting in my choke hold. Between clenched teeth, I whispered to him, “I had the royal healers brew up a batch of potion based on all the recipes you used to try to ‘cure’ shifters. You know—all the ones that backfired and trapped them in their second forms.”
I spoke between gritted teeth. “We’re going to walk on out of the sewers with you, and no one’s going to stop us, not even your personal guard. Your own secrecy about your second form means no one even knows you’re a heron shifter.” I smirked as he struggled harder in my arms. “Your own sick desire for a cure—oof—and your own shame about who you are, are going to be your undoing, Ludolf Caterwaul.”
In all the court cases I’d won, in all the murders I’d helped solve, I’d never felt more vindicated and triumphant. Take that, Ludolf!
I glanced up, panting, as the witches continued to wail their alarm. Then again—we still had to get out of the sewers alive. I lifted my head and looked toward Horace and the prince and princess. “Uh, guys—what’s the plan?”
Francis, in a whirl of black smoke, dropped out of bat form and hovered beside the three witches. With a wave of his hand, they all collapsed facedown on their tables, unconscious.
He sighed in the now near silence. “That’s better.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure the alarm they sounded has the entire shifter army descending on us any moment.”
The real Neo, hands still in the air, nodded. “They’re coming.” He gave me a long look. “We’ll help you.”
Ludolf, in heron form, writhed under me. “And—oof—why should we trust you?”
Francis drifted over, the black toes of his shoes dangling above the stone ground. He rolled his wrist, and a large burlap sack appeared in his hands at the same time that a rubber band magically wrapped itself around the heron’s beak. Together we stuffed Ludolf, in bird form, into the sack, and Francis pinched the opening closed as inside, the bird writhed and flapped his wings.
I huffed and straightened, dusting off my jeans and jacket. I nodded at Francis. “Thanks.”
“Guys?” Sacha’s deep voice cut through the silence. He glanced behind him. “They’re nearly here.”
37
A RED HERON
Viktor chittered and twitched, and Sacha stepped closer, muttering gentle words to him until he quieted a bit.
Neo started toward me, but the prince stepped in front of him, blocking his way. Neo shot him a heavy look, then addressed me over the prince’s shoulder. “You don’t have much choice. They’re going to be here any second.” He raised his dark brows. “Darkmoonies stick together, right?”
I stared at him a long time. We’d successfully trapped Ludolf—was our whole plan really going to hinge on me trusting my old frenemy from the orphanage? I crossed my arms and shot him a sassy look. “What do you propose?”
“They’re close,” Sacha cautioned, his thick palms still raised.
The prince and princess exchanged worried glances, but Horace just gave a lazy blink. “Let them come.”
Princess Imogen flashed her eyes at him. “I’d rather not get involved in another battle royale, thank you.”
I frowned. Another? Was baking a more hazardous job than I realized?
Neo pointed at the three unconscious old witches. “They sounded the alarm; we need to hide them. I don’t know how, but I’ll try to explain why Ludolf and the witches aren’t here and why royalty is.” He frowned, clearly worried.
I shook my head and took the writhing sack containing Ludolf from Francis. I used both hands and dragged it across the ground till I reached Neo. “You mess this up or betray us, and we’re all going down. Capisce?”
He gave me a small grin, as he looked me up and down. “Yeah, Jolene, capisce.”
I rolled my eyes as I shoved the sack at him. “And stop looking at me like that.”
He blushed a little but passed Ludolf over to Sacha, who handled the writhing sack with barely any effort. I turned to the prince, princess, and Horace. “You three pose as the old witches.” I spun to the vampire. “Hide the real witches outside the back entrance so they’re out of sight.”
I turned to Neo. “And you pretend you’ve apprehended me. Go!”
Thunderous steps echoed down the tunnels as Ludolf’s army approached, and we all dashed to our places. Francis whisked himself and the three unconscious hags out of sight, the other three took on the witches’ appearances and their places at the tables, and the shocked Neo, Sacha, and Viktor pretended to hold me captive.
I hoped they were pretending. If not, I was about to find myself in the middle of a battle royale, as the princess had put it, without any powers or way of defending myself.
Soon, burly men and buff ladies in a hodgepodge of DIY armor charged down the narrow tunnel toward us. They could only walk one or two abreast, so the line of them seemed to stretch back endlessly. My heart pounded in my chest as I recognized the enormous lion shifter who’d tried to attack Sam Snakeman. I gulped as we locked eyes and his lips parted in a snarl.
A short but wide dude with a shaved head and leather chest plate stomped up to us. He glared at Neo, then past us at the three witches—our friends in disguise.
“Where’s Ludolf?” He narrowed his eyes at Neo. “We heard the alarm.”
Neo’s throat bobbed, and I willed myself not to look at the sack in Sacha’s hands. Ludolf was close by—just in heron form.
Neo ran a hand over his slicked-back black hair and shrugged. “Ludolf? We were just heading to see him.” He elbowed me, a little too hard for my liking. I glared at him. “We apprehended this one trying to sneak around the Darkmoon.”
The short guy got in my face. “The little thief, huh?”
The guards behind him chuckled.
“Ludolf’s going to make you pay for your little stunt.”
“How much?” I raised my brows. “I’ve only got like ten gold coins on me.”<
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He glared. “You think you’re so funny. Someone needs to teach you a lesson.”
I scrunched up my face at his breath. “And someone needs to teach you a lesson about brushing your teeth.”
He sucked in a breath, his expression darkening. “Why you—”
Neo flashed his eyes at me, then shot the dude a tight smile. “Let’s let Ludolf do the punishing, hm?”
The guy sniffed, then jerked his cleft chin toward the witches. “What was with the alarm then?”
The one in the middle raised her hand and waved. “False alarm!” Her voice came out hoarse, but cheery, and I guessed it was the princess. “You know us—” She threw her arms around the other two and hugged them tight to her sides. “Just a few senile old hags stuck underground for decades. Bound to make a mistake and wail for no reason now and then.”
Viktor wrung his hands and giggled maniacally. I prayed to the sea goddess he wouldn’t blow our cover. Sacha placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he quieted a bit.
The guard dude frowned at the witches, clearly uncertain, but turned back to us. His narrowed eyes slid to the writhing sack. “What’s in there?”
Neo’s throat bobbed. “Heron shifter. Dude runs a shop in the Darkmoon and wasn't paying his dues. Ludolf had us pick him up for questioning.”
The dude sneered, a few teeth missing. “Questioning.” He chuckled, and a few of the guards up front, who could overhear, chuckled with him. He pounded a fist into the palm of his other hand. “Wouldn’t mind helping with some of those ‘questions.’”
My breath came in short pants as I looked over their heads—the line of shifter soldiers stretched back so far, I couldn’t see the end of it, but there were at least a hundred of them visible. So many that they’d make short work of us—or at least, me.