The Tribe Boxed Set: A Shapeshifter Paranormal Romance

by Terra Wolf

  Helen’s eyes scanned the budding Las Vegas skyline. Miles and miles of desert stretched beyond the emerging casino city. The desert’s burgundy sunset had faded to blue coal as the blinking lights flashed around the Starlight.

  As if something had startled her, she sat upright out of her catlike position and looked directly toward me. I froze. It was impossible. She couldn’t see me. I was cloaked in invisibility. Uncertain, I waited for her eyes to continue drifting.

  It seemed like an eternity passed before Helen resumed her feline pose on the sofa. That was the only cue I needed. It was time for me to leave the Starlight penthouse and follow Holden.

  Once I was out of the front door, I searched the hallway for Holden. I ran to the elevator entrance. I saw the numbers running across the top of the elevator’s frame. Ugh! It was only on the second floor. I scanned the hall and noticed the stairs were at the end of the corridor. I decided to fly down the long stairwell in order to catch up with him. It would be quicker and I didn’t know how much time I had before he was out of sight.

  On the other side of the stairwell door, I pulled my arms in across my chest, hopped from the railing, and spun into a quick descent. An invisible cyclone whirled around me, while each floor whisked past my head as I plunged to the first level of the stairwell.

  I steadied my landing as the floor came into view. I touched my toes on the concrete passage. I pushed the stairwell door open enough to squeeze through and exit into the lobby. I recognized the bellmen.

  “Man, did you see Mr. Chadsworth run out the front door? I’ve never seen him so mad.” One of the bellmen poked another near the front desk.

  “Oh yeah, I heard he was off to see you-know-who.” He gave a double wink to his buddy, who was loading suitcases on the buckling valet cart.

  Holden had been here a second ago. But where would he meet Simone? I barely knew my way around the Starlight, let alone 1968 Vegas. I had no idea where she lived.

  I saw the office sign on the other side of the reception desk. It might be a big leap, but from what I had gathered, Holden was probably the owner of the Starlight. More than likely had an office for his regular business transactions and for running the casino.

  I dashed across the lobby and followed the arrows pointing toward the office. There was a row of individual office doors and a waiting area with a reception desk complete with typewriter and phone. Behind the desk on the wall, Holden Chadsworth was written on a gold nameplate.

  The casino, restaurants, bars, and hotel were now in full nighttime swing, and the little office was empty. I tried the handle. It was locked.

  “Open.” I pointed my finger and turned the handle.

  Inside was a meticulous office. Holden’s desk was a massive mahogany structure. I tried the top drawer, locked. I tried the side drawers, locked and locked. Again, using my open spell I pointed at all of the drawers until they were unlocked.

  Where would an organized man keep his mistresses contact information? There was a leather-bound calendar littered with birthdays and business meeting appointments. I rummaged through a few more folders and pulled out a thick file marked VonRue Diamonds.

  I was curious. I had seen the marquee for the diamond tour advertised in the lobby and I had never heard of them. How could I have missed knowing about the largest diamond collection in the world—a girl who loves sparkly things above all knows the best jewelry collections.

  I flipped open the folder for a peek, and I caught my breath when I read what was on the first page.

  VonRue Diamond Collection

  3000 diamond collection

  Total Value: $500,000,000

  Owner: Helen VonRue Chadsworth

  Collateral: Starlight Resort and Casino

  Signed: Holden W. Chadsworth

  What was going on? Helen owned the VonRue collection, and Holden had put the diamonds up for collateral for the Starlight? There was no way the Starlight was worth half a billion dollars in 1968.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and took a quick snapshot of the contract. I needed to absorb this information and figure out how the puzzle pieces fit together.

  My senses were tingling on overload as I placed the file back as I had found it. Finally, in the last drawer, I found a small book labeled Addresses. I started with A, not knowing Simone’s last name and still hoping the man was brazen enough to list his mistress in his personal book. The third name under D, Simone Davis, 2122 Vegas Blvd., The Diamond Towers, Suite 710. Scribbled below her address were the notes: red roses, emeralds, size 4, chocolates. Well, he was a cheating man, but at least he was an observant, considerate cheating man.

  I took another picture in case I needed to reference the numbers again, slid the address book back into its snug spot, and left the office.

  I didn’t know where the Diamond Towers was located, but I took a gamble that from the sky, I would probably be able to find it.

  This time, instead of leaping into a downward spiral, I raced to the corner farthest from traffic, wrapped my arms tightly around my chest, and accelerated upward.

  I flew until I saw the twinkling sign for the Diamond Towers. I managed my speed and only elevated two hundred feet from the ground so I would recognize Holden if I had a chance to catch him exiting his car.

  The night air was cool, and my eyes started to water from the chill. The towers were wrapped in glitter lights and were shaped like diamonds.

  I surveyed the hotel entrance for a place to touch down. My eyes were still watering, but I thought I saw the back of Holden’s head through the glass doors of the lobby.

  The doorman nodded at him, and I could make out his lips moving: “Good evening, Mr. Chadsworth.”

  I reached into my pocket for a tissue to dab my eyes, and when I looked up, he was gone. The tears were rolling—it must have been the combination of desert dust and the sting of the flight air. There was no tissue in my pocket of course. I tried not to travel with anything other than my phone. I didn’t want to take the chance I’d leave something behind that shouldn’t belong in the past.

  I pulled on my shirt and dabbed each eye for relief, but the tears continued to flow. Once I finally got the tears under control, I searched the lobby for Holden, but he was gone. At least I had Simone’s suite number, but I had hoped to trail Holden closely so I didn’t have to spell my way into her room. The less magic I had to use, the better.

  Diamond Towers wasn’t a casino like the other hotels I had visited on the strip. The Vegas construction rush was a competition to make great vacation destinations. Each developer had tried to create the next oasis. It appeared the Diamond Towers had another approach altogether.

  I heard the ding of the elevator. I looked left and saw a sign that read Private. The elevator light glowed at number seven, and I knew Holden had reached his destination.

  The elevator lobby was secluded. I decided to use a spell to override the elevator restriction that required a key for this particular tower. I guessed that the private residences were stacked in this tower and that the Diamond on the other side was for the hotel guests.

  I pushed the button for the seventh floor, and the elevator glided up the tower. Unlike the Chadsworths’ floor, there were no guards walking the corridors and the hall seemed empty. I scanned the room numbers for 710 and quietly let myself in the front door.

  A low light glowed in the foyer, and I noticed mirrored wallpaper. The Diamond Towers took its theme all the way to the walls. There were two doorways on either side of the foyer table, each equally as dim.

  I stepped left and scanned the kitchen, eat-in breakfast area, and large dining room for Holden. I retraced my steps through the foyer and went through the doorway on the right.

  I heard muffled sounds coming from behind the door. I took a chance that Simone and Holden would be too wrapped up in their conversation to notice the door move as I cracked it.

  An enormous golden bed dominated the room. Purple curtains cascaded from the ceiling and wrapped like coil
s around the bed’s four pillars. The fabric pooled on the floor in a heap of velvet. I performed a sweep of the room, but didn’t see Holden or Simone.

  I stopped mid-search and tilted my head toward a crackling sound. My ears strained to identify what the noise was. It sounded like glass cracking. There was a loud thud and a woman screaming. I ran past the purple bed, to the door of the suite’s spa, terrified of what I might find.

  “Oh fuck yes. Fuck me,” she screamed.

  Holden’s arms were wrapped around a petite, dark-haired woman. Her red dress was pushed up past her thighs, and her legs were tightly wound around his waist. His shirt was on the floor, and her head was buried in his neck as he thrust into her on the counter, grabbing her and forcing her hips higher into his.

  “Don’t stop. God, don’t stop.”

  Remnants of the mirror fell to the floor at his feet. The moans coming from Simone’s throat were intensifying toward another scream.

  He ripped at the side of her dress until it was completely in shreds and fell to the floor with his shirt.

  “I love fucking you,” he growled.

  They both were so absorbed in the rapture of the moment, pulling each other tighter, moaning louder, and cracking the mirror into a million slivers, that they didn’t hear me bump into the bedpost as I tried to run out of the room.

  I turned and ran to the foyer. I let myself out of the suite and decided to wait in the hall while I collected my thoughts and tried to erase what I had witnessed from my mind.

  I shook my head in my hands, confused. Holden was in complete control of the situation, definitely in control of Simone. What was the plan Helen was talking about? The corridor was quiet and light piano music filtered from an overhead speaker.

  I waited. Couples strolled through the halls on their way to dinner or to catch a show. There were room service deliveries, a valet luggage collection, and a frantic maid with an armful of towels.

  She scurried into the suite two doors down from Simone’s with a distressed look on her face. My phone’s satellite connection was no use in 1968, so I couldn’t check the time, but I estimated that maybe an hour had passed. I gathered enough courage to try the suite again, hoping Holden and Simone would be dressed.

  I picked myself off the floor and headed back to the suite. My magix instincts started to tingle. Simone. Had something happened to her? I dashed through the foyer and headed straight for the purple gilded bedroom.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted her draped in a fluffy spa robe, her long, dark tresses wrapped in a towel on her head. At least she was covered this time. She sat at her dressing table, applying mascara to each long lash. She tilted her head from side to side to examine her handiwork.

  I studied her face. Earlier, I had been too embarrassed and stunned to look at her. I had only seen legs, skin, and a lot of hair, but now I saw what an alluring woman she was. A part of me understood why Holden wasn’t interested in giving her up, although I knew that was no excuse for his infidelity.

  She finished her primping routine by dabbing drops of perfume on her neck and wrists, and then placed the crystal bottle on a tray. She gathered her robe and walked into the bathroom.

  I expected to see Holden emerge in a towel or put back together in his tuxedo, but he wasn’t there. The shower wasn’t running. I must have missed him in the kitchen. I retraced my steps and walked through the foyer and into the kitchen, but it was dark. One more sweep of the suite and every instinct I had was on fire.

  Holden Chadsworth was gone.

  Chapter Seven

  I did my best to stay out of Simone’s way while searching the suite for Holden. She dipped one leg into a floor-length gown and admired her silhouette in the broken mirror. The tattered red one had been tossed into the trash. She nestled a starburst brooch at the base of her cleavage. Her olive skin was radiant in the purple, and from her smile, I could tell she knew it.

  Once she clasped the last shimmering bracelet around her wrist, she reached for a large black leather bag. It was flat and looked empty. She clutched the handle, folded it in half, and slid it under her arm.

  I had to decide if I should follow her or stay in the suite and do some snooping. I needed to find out what had happened to Holden. He wasn’t here, he didn’t walk out the front door of the suite, and there was no other way out.

  I decided to let Simone leave, hoping I could find her downstairs later or at least plant myself outside and wait for her return tonight.

  Once the door locked behind her and the click clack sounds of her high heels faded, I walked room to room.

  “Reveal! Reveal! Reveal!” I pointed to the center of each room.

  The small glittery particles of the reveal spell began to form throughout the suite. The kitchen was dark and glitter free, so I moved over to the living room. A small loop around Simone’s French phone began to swirl, but nothing else. I moved on to the bedroom and bathroom where I knew I would have to untangle Simone’s trail.

  “Reveal!”

  The vanity countertop, the shower, her dressing table, and the bed glowed yellowy-orange as I had predicted. I looked at the closet where a cloud of reveal dust hung in the air. The double doors were closed, but there was a particle trail wide enough to account for maybe three people.

  I opened the doors and waved the spell again. One by one the shimmery particles formed; first around the entrance, then across a scattered line of Simone’s shoes, and then along the back of the closet, swirling around a collection of long coats.

  Some of the designer coats still had tags on the sleeves and looked like they were on display in a boutique. There were rows of hatboxes, shopping bags, and several stacks of gloves. I pushed the extravagant coats aside to discover they were guarding two paneled elevator doors and a small elevator button. The glitter trail clouded and stopped at the doors.

  Now I knew how Holden Chadsworth had left Simone’s suite. What I didn’t know was how and with whom.

  Slowly the luminescence of the spell fell to the floor, and the only light in the closet was coming from Simone’s vanity. My inner girl told me to leave Simone’s suite, leave 1968, and drop this story, but the magix tingle told me to push that button and see where the secret elevator of Holden Chadsworth’s mistress led.

  It seemed likely that Holden had used this elevator to visit Simone in secret and to avoid the prying eyes of the Diamond Towers’ staff or other guests.

  I needed to know where the elevator took Holden. I pushed the button and waited for the elevator to arrive, hoping it would unlock the mystery of Holden’s departure.

  The lower part of the elevator walls was paneled with dark wood and the top half was wrapped in heavy metal lattice. I knew the reveal spell wouldn’t help any further. The little cabin would fill with the orange essence in a cloud and hover during the short ride.

  I examined the inside of the door. There was only one wooden pull knob. This was obviously a one-way ride to Simone’s closet with no other stops on the way. I gave a quick tug on the knob, and the elevator car lurched and then descended. Her suite was on the seventh floor, but I counted off eight levels as the car’s gears registered each floor with a heavy click as it passed through the elevator shaft.

  The doors opened and I cautiously stepped out into what appeared to be an underground garage. The dark concrete maze in front of me twisted in circles, taking guests up to the street surface.

  The lingering smell of diesel and a few drips of oil splattered in front of the elevator doors indicated someone was here not too long ago. I was slightly angry with myself that I hadn’t followed Simone and her mysterious leather bag, but the magix tingle had pushed me down this trail.

  Simone and Holden were gone. If I wanted to track them, I only had one option—fly. Maybe I would be lucky and find both of them.

  Before I could look for them, I needed to navigate through the parking garage. Flying required an open space with lots of height, and my vertical leap was too high for this l
ow ceiling. Getting off the ground in here would be impossible.

  I trekked up the inclined driveway past industrial-sized fans and a few busboys taking smoke breaks. As I emerged on the street level, the desert wind whipped across my face and swept my hair back. I tucked my arms in and propelled myself upward in a tight spin.

  A stream of cars circled the blocks of casinos and nightclubs. I flew higher to extend my view of the streets when I saw a lone car driving west of Diamond Towers, outpacing everything in its path.

  I zeroed in on the car and followed it out of the city limits for what I guessed were thirty miles. It was always hard to tell how far I had flown, especially in a chase like this. The headlights dimmed when the driver turned the car on a gravel path and slowed the wheels to a snail’s pace. With the engine still running, he parked the car dangerously close to the edge of the canyon.

  I descended closer to the car, straining my eyes through the darkness. A young, bald man with a distinctively pointy nose stepped from the driver’s side. He retrieved a pair of gloves from his pocket and slipped one over each hand. He took five steps to the rear of the car and pulled the trunk’s lever.

  I drifted closer to the figure working in the dark, fearful of what I was about to witness. My stomach churned and my hands shook. There in the pit of the trunk lie Holden Chadsworth, slumped over and lifeless.

  The man gathered Holden’s arms, threw him over his shoulder, and walked toward the edge of the cliff. He stumbled under the weight of the broad-shouldered man. When his feet reached the rocky ledge, he dropped the body on the ground, and with a vicious kick, sent him tumbling over the side of the ravine.

  Through the howling winds, I thought I heard him mutter, “Bastard,” as he turned to watch Holden’s limp body plummet over rocks and prickly desert brush.

  The bald man turned and closed the trunk. He stepped into the driver’s side of the car and peeled the vehicle back onto the road toward the city.

  There was a tight knot in my chest and a sickening pit in my stomach. I waited until the car was out of sight.