The Tribe Boxed Set: A Shapeshifter Paranormal Romance

by Terra Wolf

  He freed my shoulders and stepped away from the door. I fought the urge to grab his hands and put them back on my arms just to feel some kind of warmth and connection. The air between us was cold.

  I hated the look in his eyes. The new swell of fear growing between us. The sudden distrust that had developed from the letter.

  He held out an outstretched arm and waved me to a chair by the fire. I followed him to the living room and sat.

  “Do you want a drink?” He walked over to a wet bar set back in the corner of the room.

  I had missed it when I first walked in because a stack of books blocked the decanters. Each was filled with a different dark liquid. The gesture seemed to say he was willing to give me another chance even though I had done nothing to prove I wasn’t still a flight risk. It was hard not to eye the door. It was my only viable escape from this nightmare.

  “Um, yes, I think that would be good.” I tried to quiet the shaking by pressing my knees together.

  Jack picked up one of the decanters and poured the liquor into two crystal glasses. He clanked the glasses, and I watched as he wiped up a spill. He was noticeably shaken from our exchange in the hall, but I didn’t know if it was from his anger at me or his reaction to how close my body had been to his. My heart was still pounding.

  He walked over and handed me one of the drinks. The brown liquor swirled as I took it between my palms. He knocked his back in one swallow and discarded the glass on the table. I took a small sip and inhaled the bourbon scent. If I were going to get through this, I would need a drink, maybe a few.

  He sat on the couch, facing me. I thought of all the times we had sat across from each other in his office, discussing chapters, debating characters, and arguing over words. Those were the times I fell for him the hardest.

  The words from the letter rested on the floor at my feet.

  I met Jack for the first time two years ago. I sat outside of the frosted glass walls that separated his workspace from Ann’s desk and the sorting baskets.

  I chewed on the end of my pen while pretending to write notes for our meeting. Really, I didn’t have anything to write. I didn’t want my new editor to think I spent my time idly sitting around not writing. I borrowed my mother’s pearls for the occasion. It felt like an interview, although I had already signed a contract for my first book.

  When my editor appeared in the doorway, it took effort to keep from blushing or tripping over my five-inch heels. Instead, I gracefully collected myself from the loveseat and reached out to shake his hand. He looked over my black suit, the pearls, and my half-eaten pen and invited me into his office.

  “Ms. Grace, sorry to keep you waiting, Jack Coleman, your new editor.”

  “Hi.”

  I reminded myself I was supposed to let go of his hand. I tried to think of something clever to say, but one look in his dark eyes and I was tongue-tied. All I could do was follow him into his office.

  He smiled. “Welcome to our small publishing family. I’m ready to get to work. I hope you are.”

  With that first meeting, my writing blossomed, along with my career, and a crush I could never brush aside.

  The fire crackled and one of the logs broke in half. I looked up from the letter. Jack’s eyes hardened as he reached for the paper.

  “Ivy?”

  I knew I had to choose my words carefully, and I needed to slow everything down. It was happening too fast. I wanted space and time to think, and Jack was affecting me more than he ever had.

  He exhaled. “I’m giving you another chance. You took one look at that letter and ran for the door. You ran out of here, fast. You know something and you’re going to tell me what it is or I’m calling the police. I probably should have already called them instead of asking you to come over, but I thought you deserved a chance.

  I thought we had worked together long enough that I should at least ask you what you know before I get the authorities involved.” He sat across from me now, his elbows digging into his knees. He pressed his fist into his chin.

  The bourbon hadn’t calmed me enough. I panicked. “You read the letter—you can’t do that. Don’t do that. These are dangerous people. We’ve got to think through everything before we make any decisions. Lives are at stake. Our families.”

  My heart ached as I spoke those last words. I hoped he could hear in my voice that I had regained my composure and was back in control of my thoughts. I couldn’t believe I had bolted, and my cheeks blushed crimson when I thought about my idiotic move to run from him, although it was clearly a better choice than vanishing in a sparkly, unexplainable exit.

  “These were in there too.” He slapped a handful of pictures on the table.

  I reached for one.

  “It’s my sister. They’re watching her. That’s her on campus.” He ran his hands through his hair while I studied the photo.

  I placed the picture of the brunette girl on the table. I didn’t need to look at the others. It gave me the creeps. If they were taking pictures of Jack’s sister were they watching my family?

  I needed to call my brother. Ian was a detective. He could help, but then I remembered the warnings in the letter. It might put him in more jeopardy.

  “Have you called her?” I asked.

  “Yes. I spoke to her before you arrived. I didn’t say anything about the letter. She’s with her study group for the rest of the night. I don’t want to scare her. I’m hoping it’s some kind of sick fan prank.”

  I wanted to tell him he was right. It was a deranged human. But I had read the letter. This wasn’t a fan.

  I twisted my grandmother’s ring across my right ring finger and caught specks of firelight bouncing off the deep blue stone. The room felt calmer now that he was sitting across from me, and it seemed his anger had started to recede.

  “Why don’t you start by telling me who you really are? Maybe who you think these people are? Something happened when you were in Vegas two years ago didn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  He stood again and paced in front of the fire.

  The momentary calmness dissolved, and I shivered.

  “What happened? Why are they doing this? Who are they?” Jack’s voice echoed through the room.

  I picked up the letter from the floor.

  None of it seemed possible. I was always careful. Meticulous. Detailed. I performed every spell necessary when I traveled to make sure no one saw me. No one knew I was there, but now someone claimed they did. Someone knew I had time spelled when I stayed at the Starlight two years ago. They knew I was in 1968.

  I shook my head. This was my worst nightmare. Everything my family warned me about when I decided to publish Masquerade and Vegas Star was happening. My father’s lectures. My mother’s worrying. They said I couldn’t be a magix and be famous. But I didn’t listen. I wanted to prove them wrong. I wanted my gift to count for something in the human world.

  This was my fault. Completely my fault.

  I flattened the letter in my lap.

  Mr. Coleman,

  We aren’t acquainted, however we have something in common. Someone in common—Ivy Grace.

  Because of her book, the one you worked on together so closely, I now need your assistance.

  My requests are simple, as are the consequences for not following my instructions.

  -You and Miss Grace present the remaining VonRue diamonds.

  -Provide proof there will be no sequel to Vegas Star.

  -Deliver Miss Grace to me, along with her ring.

  In exchange, I will agree not to kill your sister or any members of the Grace family. Do not contact the authorities; it will only expedite my pursuit of those closest to you.

  Enclosed you will find a most gracious invitation and additional instructions.

  I reached for the envelope on the table. There were two airline tickets and a hotel key card. The flight was booked for tomorrow at noon.

  “Ivy, they are going to kill my sister. I need you to sta
rt talking. She’s all I have. The only family I have. And I’ll be damned if some psycho fan of yours is going to threaten her life. I have to protect her.”

  I held my palm toward him. “I’m sorry she was brought into this. I’m sorry you’re involved. I’m sorry for all of it.”

  His fists were clenched. “What is it? Who are these people?”

  The flames darted in and out of the logs and bounced around the room creating willowy shadows. The bourbon prickled and worked its way through my body, giving me a little courage. I gulped another swallow. I thought about my options, but no matter which way I approached it, there was only one way to do this. I had to tell him the truth. I had to tell him about the Starlight. The Chadsworths. Everything I saw in 1968. I was finally going to tell Jack I was a magix.

  I started at the beginning.

  Chapter Five

  Las Vegas 1968

  I drew back and arched my shoulders, narrowly avoiding a collision. A waiter forged ahead, his cart loaded with silver trays. I scolded myself for almost running into someone. It didn’t matter that I was invisible to him. He could still feel me.

  I glanced down to check my fade spell. My body shimmered all over with the concealment spell. I exhaled.

  I knew this was the right spot. I could feel the energy buzzing and my magical instincts were happy.

  I turned to make sure I had my eye on exactly where the seam was and surveyed the hallway again to listen for the waiter. Once I could see the faint glow swishing back and forth and knew the hall was clear, I stepped closer to seal it.

  The seam, along with my grandmother’s sapphire ring, was my only way in and out of time. It was my gateway home.

  I pointed my fingertips toward the glow and whispered, “Eclipse.”

  The ripples ebbed and the glow faded. All that remained was the wall I had walked through. On the other side of the velvet drapes, smoke rings curled, people laughed, and the high notes of a trumpet echoed. It sounded like I had chosen a good spot for my Time Spell. I smiled.

  Now it was time to find the subject for my next novel. Not just any story. I needed the story. The one my readers would love. Something that would blow everyone away.

  Sometimes it only took ten minutes to realize I was somewhere I didn’t want to stay. On this trip, however, I could feel it—there was a story within these Vegas walls waiting for me to find it.

  The smoky haze of the casino hung over the blackjack tables. I surveyed tonight’s subjects. There were the band members huddled behind the stage on break. It looked like they were arguing over how much longer to play to the crowd.

  There was a bartender trying to get the attention of a pretty redhead at the end of the bar. I wasn’t sure how old you had to be to get into a casino in 1968, but I was certain this girl might not even be old enough to drive. I didn’t want to get anywhere near that tonight.

  I could feel the energy, the fun, and the misery swirling in the air. I knew there had to be someone in this crowd I could follow tonight.

  I looked across the room and grinned. The man was tall, with dark hair, and a devilishly handsome smile. His perfectly tailored suit—I assumed it was custom made with a fit like that—was black and crisp. The woman sitting on the stool next to him looked to be almost his height, slender with pearl-white skin. Her hair was honey blond with a hint of ginger.

  At first, I only saw the smile on the good-looking guy’s face as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. She was twirling a tiny paper umbrella absently with her right hand, looking bored and irritated while the dealer shuffled another deck of cards. After a second glance, I noticed his lips were pursed and he was edging closer to the woman in her floor-length beaded gown.

  I walked closer. I was within inches of the woman, who looked like she had stepped out of a vintage Hollywood film. I heard every whisper.

  “Helen, there’s no point threatening me, and especially not here.” He glanced up and smiled around the room as if he were suddenly aware they might have observers.

  He placed his hand on her left wrist. They had matching wedding bands. Helen didn’t look interested in an explanation or in his level of concern for appearances. She took a drag of her cigarette, folded her cards, and walked past the blue-eyed gentleman into the glaring lights of the casino lobby.

  The husband continued to follow her down the hall to the elevator bay. Helen smiled at each person as she walked by and nodded to the guests.

  There were large marquee signs advertising the acts and shows at the Starlight. The Temptations. Magic Mikael and his lovely assistant Anastasia. The last one in the lineup caught my eye. I barely had time to read it, but the VonRue Diamond Collection boasted the largest collection of diamonds in the world and was on display at the Starlight for another day or so.

  “Good evening, Ms. Chadsworth, Mr. Chadsworth,” a group of bellmen echoed as they recognized the pair.

  The Chadsworths seemed practiced at this charade, nodding and smiling to each hotel worker. They stayed on a steady course, weaving through the casino and lobby as if this were part of a regular routine.

  Helen reached out to tap the elevator button. The couple stepped into the car, and I positioned myself so that I stood facing the two. The brass doors closed behind me with a quiet thud and the elevator bell sounded. At once, the two fake smiles fell to the floor.

  “How dare you, Holden, make demands on me? Demands! Here!” She waved her arm, narrowly missing my chin.

  She dropped the cool exterior and immediately tried to claw at her husband’s face. He grabbed her by the wrists and pinned them to her side. She relaxed her arms and turned her head up to look at him from the corner of her eyes.

  I held my breath, not knowing how long they could stay locked in this position. Holden released her wrists and straightened the front of his jacket lapels.

  He exhaled through his teeth. “We’ve had an arrangement since we got married. You know your place, and I don’t expect you to tell me what you think mine is.”

  As the couple glared and hissed at each other, I wasn’t sure this was where I was supposed to be. I’d give them a few more minutes before I went in search of a different story.

  The ding of the elevator sounded at the twentieth floor, and I jumped from the car, giving them ample room to walk past me.

  This was the penthouse apartment. Helen stormed ahead without giving Holden a chance to catch up. Outside the doors were two gentlemen in suits, who looked like some type of security. The first guard was located next to the elevator entrance, and the other was planted next to a palm. He kept his gaze straight ahead, not adjusting his stance or expression when the Chadsworths came into view.

  My interest was starting to pique. Helen and Holden living in the penthouse apartment, known by everyone, and in the middle of an argument…could be something…could be nothing.

  She flung open the door, threw her cocktail bag on the couch, and hurried to the bar to pour a drink. I hadn’t expected her to pour it straight. I managed to skirt around them and found a spot in front of the wall of windows to observe the next round.

  “Look, Simone isn’t going anywhere.” Holden stated.

  “Simone? Simone isn’t going anywhere? You’re seeing someone named Simone?” Her eyes blazed with fury. “I moved to this God-awful place—the desert, the middle of nowhere—to be with you. I left my family, my home, my entire life to build this hotel empire, this casino, to support whatever business deals you thought you had to do to fulfill this dream. You think I wanted to leave New England to be here? And now, when it’s finally all coming together, you do this? After fifteen years? You cheat on me?”

  Her drink was empty. She stopped to pour another one. “How? What? What did I do to push you start to fucking someone else?”

  She waved her drink in the air and waited for an explanation.

  I could tell Holden was not a man who apologized. He walked toward his wife, poured his own straight shot of whiskey, and slung it back.

 
“Don’t get so excited. Don’t you know by now I’ll fuck whomever I want? I’ll do whatever damn thing I want to do. And yes, her name is Simone.” He paused, his eyes raking over her. “Look at you, washed-up socialite from the East Coast, spending her nights in overpriced gowns, just waiting for some gullible sucker to pay her a compliment. Has it worked for you yet?” He glanced at his heavy gold watch tucked beneath his jacket sleeve.

  “Don’t wait up tonight.” He brushed a passing kiss on her cheek and walked toward the double doors that towered over the apartment entrance. He turned to face her.

  “Stop being so desperate to hold on to who you used to be, Helen. No one here cares if you used to be young and beautiful. But it’s nice I found someone who is both those things.” He chuckled.

  Helen screamed as she scrambled for the highball glass sitting on the bar. She threw it, and a shower of glass and whiskey barely missed her husband’s head as he walked out the door. There was a quiet click from the latch and he was gone.

  I expected to see Helen crumple to the floor in anguish or cry out for her husband to return, but instead she crossed the room to the telephone, calmly picked up the long handled receiver, and dialed.

  “Hi, Simone. Yeah, he bought it. He’s on his way to see you. Stick with the plan. Just stick with it, babe.” She smiled and hung up.

  I put my hand over my mouth. Holy shit. I had a story.

  Chapter Six

  Helen drew a cigarette from her clutch. She held one end to her mouth while lighting the other with a slim silver lighter.

  She eased herself onto the U of the couch, curled her legs behind her, and let her eyes drift toward the windows, as if in a trance or maybe in a state of relaxation. Whichever one, I decided she had played her part in whatever scheme was now underway between her and Simone. I needed to follow Holden.