Shifters Gone Wild; Collection

by Skye MacKinnon

  “Yes,” she answered Rowana. “I’m here.”

  “We have the weather well in hand. Look for sunrise around six thirty.”

  “Excellent news,” she answered the other Shifter. “I found the spell we’ll need for the…” Her words trailed off since Ketha wasn’t at all sure it was wise to broadcast their intention, even in shielded telepathy, in case the Cataclysm was paying attention. She’d been sloppy about masking her presence on the ship, and she was damned if she’d make a similar mistake twice in a row.

  “For the what, dear?” Rowana asked.

  “To do the work we need to once we reach our destination.”

  “You’re worried someone—or something—might overhear us?”

  Ketha smiled grimly. “You always had a psychic edge, sweetie.”

  “No psychic edge needed to figure that out. We were going to alert the humans they’d have a few hours of sunlight tomorrow for their crops, but they can figure it out on their own,” Rowana lied smoothly, and Ketha could have hugged her.

  “Signing off for now. See you soon.”

  “If the goddess is good to us,” Rowana replied.

  The age-old Shifter blessing filled Ketha with gratitude, and she focused heart-energy on the eleven other Shifters hiding in an abandoned warehouse in foothills north of the city.

  Ketha sat back in the chair fronting the desk and read through her notes, comparing them with the book’s detailed instructions to make certain she hadn’t missed anything. She jotted additional comments in several places, and then repeated her actions.

  I’m being obsessive.

  No. I’m giving this the care it requires. That’s different.

  The next time she straightened her back and rubbed grit from eyes that felt hot and sandpapery, it was past three in the morning. If she was going to make a run for the mesa, it was now or wait until the sun rose. Which would yield the best chance of success? She’d already seen all twelve Shifters on the mesa. Did that mean it didn’t matter when—or how—they traveled?

  Ketha knew better. Just because she’d seen an idealized vision in a trance state didn’t mean she and the other women could throw caution to the winds. Nor did it necessarily mean all of them would make their target, regardless of how much care they took.

  She reached into a pocket, fingering her glass. She could scry her options, but that would blow through magic—and take time. Instead, she shut the spell book and placed her palms on its creased leather binding. The book’s power might offer her something, so she opened her mind and asked for guidance.

  A Gaelic prayer soothed her frayed nerves, and Ketha shut her eyes, waiting. The book warmed beneath her touch, and an image of her on the mesa formed behind her closed lids.

  “Aye,” she murmured. Still speaking Gaelic, she asked how she’d gotten there. And when.

  A small jolt of power jolted her chin, forcing her to glance upward at a night sky, cloudy with very few stars peeking through. Ketha snorted, feeling like a prime fool. The information had been there all along—if she’d had the presence of mind to collect it from the image in her mind. Her eyes flashed open, and she was on her feet before the last vestiges of power soaked back into the spell book.

  She smoothed her copious notes into a neat pile and folded them into the book. Once everything was packaged up, she dropped it inside her backpack and latched it shut. Ketha hated to leave the cabin, but she slipped the straps around her body, anyway. Viktor’s presence was stamped into everything, and his clean scent—oceans tinged with evergreen—cradled her, rich with promise.

  She stood quiet for long moments, letting herself hope they might find a future together, before she buried her longing deep. It would only get in the way. From now until the spell was cast, she’d need every shred of energy and concentration for only one thing: obliterating the Cataclysm.

  Setting her jaw in a resolute line, she hurried out of the cabin, shut the door behind her, and made her way off the ship to the concrete round covering her exit route. Ketha stopped and sent a thin beam of exploratory magic through the concrete and into the tunnel beyond the ladder.

  Nothing pinged off her magic beyond the rats, mice, and bats that lived in the subterranean system.

  So far. So good.

  She tugged on the manhole cover but couldn’t budge it without a magical assist. Careful to prod it back into place once she clung to the ladder, Ketha cleared her mind of everything beyond making it to the mesa in one piece. Speed would be her friend, along with stealth. Cloaking herself in invisibility, she clambered down steel ladder rungs to the dirt walkway below and set out at a brisk trot, magic deployed on all sides. Light was essential, but she kept her mage light dialed to dim.

  A quick assessment yielded disquieting information. Her magical well wasn’t quite deep enough to both keep herself shielded and constantly check for Vampires. She could do it for a little while, but not for the time it would take to navigate the tunnels and sprint up the track to her objective. Her compromise was to borrow from earth energy to keep her invisibility illusion firmly in place and hope to hell she’d notice Vampires in time to go to ground. It had worked before when the two Vamps had shown up in the tunnels. Of course, having Juan and Viktor to talk with them helped, but even absent that, she felt confident her hiding place would’ve kept her safe.

  “Keep watch,” she told her wolf.

  “I will.”

  Moving fast, she retraced her steps from earlier in the day, resisting an urge to stop one last time in the place she and her sisters had lived for years. The doorway stank of Vampires. None were there now, but if they’d vandalized her home, she didn’t want to bear witness to the destruction. It would only make her angry—and sad.

  Vamps marched to a different tune. One she’d grown used to but would never understand or respect.

  Familiar landmarks flashed past. She was close to where she’d have to exit the underground tunnel system, which meant she’d be far more exposed. She’d known she’d have to leave the safety of earth energy surrounding her, but her heart still beat faster, and sweat dripped down her sides. She didn’t want to waste energy on a calming spell, so she borrowed shamelessly from the anxiety that drove her forward.

  The wolf prowled within her, wary and vigilant.

  “Careful!” It breathed the word into her mind.

  She was within sight of the exit point. Vamp stench hit her in the gut, almost doubling her over. Christ! Where were they? She flattened herself against a clammy wall and tightened the invisibility spell around herself, cringing as water soaked through the thick fabric of her robe. No convenient stairwells or ladder wells to hide in. Not this time. The nearest one was fifty yards back. Until she determined which way the Vamps were coming from, she didn’t plan on moving.

  “I fucking hate it down here,” one Vamp growled.

  “Why? Dark places mirror our black, black souls,” another replied cheerily.

  “Not this dark place,” the first voice said. “It gives me a good case of the creeps.”

  “Stop whining,” a third voice, thick with command, cut in. “Raphael sent us to hunt the Shifter, and we’ll turn these fucking tunnels inside out. If we go back and say she ain’t here, I want to be goddamned sure it’s accurate.”

  Booted feet clattered down the ladder she’d planned to use for her exit. Ketha shuttered her life force deep within herself, barely breathing. Would they lope by her like she hoped? No reason for them not to. Only problem was at some point, they’d pick up her trail. She could only shield where she was and the near parts of her passage. The farther she got from the path she’d taken, the more likely the Vamps would be to catch her scent.

  Please let them leave the manhole cover off, she prayed.

  If they didn’t, the noise of her moving it would alert their preternaturally sharp hearing. She’d have one chance after they walked by her. She had to be out of these tunnels and up that mountain trail fast. By the time they figured out she’d not only
been here, but had fled, she had to be beyond their reach.

  Not very likely, considering how quickly they could move. She shut down that train of thought fast. The Vamps ran past, never reacting to her presence, even though one’s hand brushed her as he passed by.

  She counted to thirty nice and slow before she bolted toward the ladder at the end of the tunnel. Gratitude spilled from her as she scuttled up the ladder and through the still-open manhole cover. Ketha froze for the moments it took to hunt for more Vampires.

  The coast was clear, for now. It was the best she could hope for, and she took off at a dead run. The heavy pack was an impediment, but she needed its contents and couldn’t take the time to sort things out of it. Plus, there was nowhere to leave items that wouldn’t be a dead giveaway. If she were going to do lighten her load, the place would have been back on Arkady.

  Her lungs burned and her throat constricted from thirst, but she didn’t slow. Rounding the steep mountainside, she located the track and hurtled up it. She was almost at the turnoff to the cells when she smelled Vampires again. Heard them talking from the passageway leading to the cells. Frantic, feeling like a deer trapped by headlights, she dove into a copse of sticker bushes on the uphill side of the trail. Long spines cut into her flesh, and she muffled cries of pain. Her heart pounded hard enough to escape her chest.

  Ketha pushed everything aside. Her discomfort didn’t matter. What did was blood leaking from long gashes. She had to take care of it, but first she had to hide.

  Her pack proved a major hindrance, so she unbuckled it and stuffed it beneath a bush, crawling in after it, flat on her belly. Blood dripped from multiple places the thorns had ripped into her. She poured magic into her invisibility illusion, while battling despair. Blood was where Vampires lived. Would her magic be enough to neutralize the scent? Panic filled her, and she alternated between healing her wounds and locating places her blood had dripped onto the vegetation, obliterating each spot as she found it.

  She was blowing through wads of magic, probably running her stores down to bedrock, but she had no choice.

  The barred door to the passageway leading to the cell clanged noisily, and the mutter of harsh voices—two of them—grew clearer.

  “Fuck. No clues there.”

  “Nah. Told Raphael this was a wild goose chase. What do you say we hit that jaguar reserve of his? He’s still stewing in his own juice.” Rough laughter followed the words.

  “Crap, man. You don’t think he’ll notice one of those cats got drained?”

  “So what if he does? What’s he gonna do, kill us? Besides, we’ll take the whole fucking thing. Their meat’s good. He’s so spun out about losing that bitch Shifter, it’s all he can think about.”

  “Bitch Shifter,” the other Vamp hooted. “You’re funny.”

  The Vamps flew past where she hunkered, surrounded by inch-long thorns. Hopefully, they’d be so focused on their victim, an unsuspecting jaguar she hoped would rip their eyes out, they’d miss her scent until they left the overgrown track.

  Ketha drew a shaky breath, followed by another. She had to be careful leaving the thicket—because she didn’t have either the time or the magic to erase any more traces of her blood.

  Bloodbath

  Viktor pounded down the streets of Ciudad de Huesos, dodging piles of bones. The afternoon was all but dead, and he hoped Raphael had moved past his unnatural obsession with Ketha. A return to rational thought would make it easier for Viktor to catch his sire unaware.

  Ha! Wishful thinking.

  He exhaled sharply, watching his breath form white clouds in the air only to have them snatched away by the ever-present wind. Raphael had a deeply unbalanced side. His absolute hold over the city and its inhabitants fed his narcissism and kept the power-mad parts in check. Ketha’s escape from under his nose was a slap in the face. One Raphael wouldn’t recover from until the Shifter was bleeding out of every vessel.

  Viktor reached the building where they lived and pushed the door open so hard it banged against its stops; glass panes rattling alarmingly. Mounting the stairs two and three at a whack, he stopped on Raphael’s floor. The sound of raised voices reached him from the far end of the hall, and Viktor girded himself for his sire’s wrath.

  Once Raphael became obsessed with something, no one was immune from his attacks. Viktor covered the remaining distance and walked inside. He’d be damned if he’d alter his normal protocol and knock.

  “It’s about fucking time,” Raphael snarled from where he stood, slouched against the wall that abutted the cold hearth, with his fists jammed into his pockets.

  Juan raised a tired hand in greeting. Compared with their sire’s posture, Juan stood ramrod straight, and he looked like he’d all but choked on faux agreements.

  Viktor turned his hands palms upward. “I finished searching the tunnels, Sire. Didn’t find anything.”

  Raphael opened his mouth and roared his fury. Fangs extended, he yanked his hands from his pockets. “Why can’t a hundred Vampires, creatures I trained myself, find one puny Shifter?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea.” Viktor buried any traces of Ketha ten feet under in his mind. “So all of us are hunting?”

  Raphael ground his jaws together. “What difference should numbers make? She’s one Shifter. She smells like a Shifter. Why the fuck can’t any of you locate her?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea,” Viktor repeated, not bothering to remind Raphael that they’d been trying to find the Shifters for ten years without success.

  “You already said that.” Raphael had edged so close, spittle sprayed Viktor’s face. He took a chance and wiped it away.

  “Look.” Viktor squared his shoulders. “I spent years commanding men at sea. People do your bidding out of a sense of loyalty, not obligation.”

  Raphael narrowed his eyes to slits, retreating to the menacing calm that presaged a killing spree. “Your point, minion?”

  “Just that.”

  “Just what?” Raphael’s tone was quiet—and deadly.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor saw Juan shake his head in warning. His friend was probably right. Now wasn’t the time to make Raphael suspicious of him, not if he wanted to take him by surprise and gain the upper hand.

  “Nothing.” Viktor glanced at his feet. “I misspoke. I didn’t have a point.”

  “Better. I appreciate followers who respect command structure.”

  “Yes, Sire. Of course, Sire. Where would you like us to search next?” Viktor asked, his gaze still focused on the floor.

  “Nowhere. You and Juan will remain with me and assist in strategizing as the men and women return with information.”

  “Excellent,” Juan said. “Would Sire mind if I retrieved some of the jaguar meat?”

  Raphael crinkled his nose in distaste. “I fail to appreciate your attraction to dead food, but go.” He waved both hands and shot a meaningful look at Viktor. “I suppose you want him to bring enough for you too.”

  “That would be appreciated, but I figured I’d go with him.”

  “Figure again.” Madness played about the edges of Raphael’s aura, changing its black tint to one shot with reds and sickly yellows.

  “You have an immediate need for my presence, Sire?” Viktor raised an eyebrow and forced himself to hold the other Vamp’s gaze.

  “No. But I’m not certain I can trust either of you.” Before Viktor could lodge a protest, Raphael went on, “Or any of the rest, either. For all I know, you’ve been fucking the Shifters for years, and they’ve ensorcelled the lot of you.”

  Juan sidled out the door, mumbling, “Back soon.”

  Viktor exhaled wearily and spread his hands in front of him. “Use your truth ability,” he suggested. “I haven’t had sex—with anyone, including myself—since before the Cataclysm.”

  The blundering fumbles of Raphael’s spell seared him, and Viktor waited for what his sire would come up with next. He didn’t have to wait long.

  Raph
ael shrugged. “So you haven’t actually had sex. It doesn’t mean you’re not doing something else you shouldn’t be.”

  “Like what?” Viktor asked, keeping his tone mild.

  Raphael pounded a fist into the wall, reddening his knuckles. “Who the hell knows? I’m not a mind reader.” He bent closer. “Not when someone wants to keep something hidden.”

  Thank Christ for that.

  Viktor eyed chairs dotting the room. “Permission to sit, Sire. As you know, I don’t have your strength. Even though you’re disappointed by my lack of results, I have been hunting the Shifter since the crack of dawn this morning.” He sent a sidelong glance skittering across the room. Would Raphael buy his story about being weak and tired?

  “Go ahead. Sit.” Raphael drew his lips back from his fangs. “You nailed it. You second-string Vamps are a huge disappointment. On every front.”

  “Sorry, Sire.” Viktor dropped into the chair farthest from the open window to maximize comfort in the ice-cold room. Why had Raphael opened the window, anyway? Dank, chill air formed ice crystals on the glass and adjacent walls.

  “You are such a wimp.” Raphael stomped across the room and slammed the window shut so hard one of the panes cracked. “Spare me further apologies.”

  Viktor folded his hands in his lap. Holding silence would be easy since remaining cordial curdled his stomach into a burning mass of knots.

  Juan trotted back into the room and dropped several strips of raw, semi-frozen meat into Viktor’s lap. That done, he dragged a second chair close, but before he could sit, Raphael closed a hand over his arm.

  Juan twisted in Raphael’s grip before he remembered himself and quit struggling.

  Raphael bared his fangs. “I did not give you permission to sit.”

  Juan’s fair skin flushed with anger, and he choked out, “Sorry, Sire. I forgot myself. May I sit?”

  “No. You can eat standing.”

  Viktor seethed with fury. He should’ve ended his sire long since. Raphael had no redeeming qualities. None. He was arrogant. Narcissistic. Petty. Spoiled. Conceited. Viktor recoiled but kept the emotion inside himself and his features bland. He’d described almost all Vampires. Certainly the old ones, but the majority of new ones as well.