Shifter Wars Complete Series

by Sarah J. Stone

  He turned his body towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "But we've got more, ah, pressing issues to attend to at the moment, little lady."

  "Oh? Like what?"

  Kyle gave Jo an up-and-down look, scanning her outfit with a critical eye.

  "Like, you're not going to be showing up with me at the elders' dressing like a college girl at her first internship."

  "Hey!" said Jo, offended. "This is nice stuff!"

  "Well, we don't want ‘nice;' we want ‘sophisticated’. Come with me."

  Kyle started off down the long hallway, Jo following him down. He stopped at one of the doors, one for a room that Jo hadn't yet seen. Opening the door, Kyle revealed a small room lit with soft, orange lighting, a set of dressing mirrors the centerpiece of the space. Stepping in, Jo saw that it was less a room and more a large, walk-in closet.

  "You've got your own dressing room?" she said, her voice disbelieving.

  "Hey," said Kyle, strolling into the room and giving himself a quick once-over in the mirror, "the penthouse came with four bedrooms; gotta use them for something."

  "So vain," said Jo, watching Kyle adjust his hair, a pleased smile on his face.

  "I am what I am," said Kyle with a smirk. "Anyway, I didn't bring you in here to show off; I've got some women's clothes somewhere in the back of the closet. There should be some stuff in your size. Pick something good out for tonight–something sexy, but not too sexy."

  Jo rolled her eyes before turning back to the dressing room.

  "Alright," said Kyle, "I'll leave you to it. Do me proud."

  Then, with another wink he was off, leaving Jo alone, wondering how much crazier this strange situation she found herself in could get.

  CHAPTER 10

  Jo couldn't help but gasp as she walked into the meeting hall of the clan elders. It was a spacious, low-lit area, lined with wooden columns, the walls decorated with large, mural-style art of centuries-old landscapes and portraits. The cathedral ceilings stretched up for dozens of feet, and the space was dominated by dark, rich wood. Dozens of men and women were there, all dressed in various finery, drinks in their hands, the cheerful din of pleasant conversation swirling around them. A long, well-stocked bar was there, men and women in black-and-white server garb working behind it, some darting out to hand off drinks to waiting patrons.

  "This is . . . nicer than I was expecting," said Jo, Kyle at her side.

  "What exactly were you expecting? Oh, don't say a place decorated like a cave, or something," said Kyle, waving to a well-dressed, rich-looking couple nearby.

  "I don't know; just nothing like this. Nothing so . . . ."

  "Expensive?" finished Kyle.

  "I guess so."

  "There's a lot of history with our clans. Most are centuries old, and the newer ones are just offshoots of those. Centuries makes for a lot of time to build up fortunes."

  "I can see that," said Jo as they walked through the crowd, men and women giving them quick, assessing scans as they passed. "And, what's the occasion?"

  "Every two months the elders get together, throwing a little shindig like this. It provides for an opportunity for the elders to discuss pressing issues in the clans, as well as for social climbers of various stripes to hobnob."

  "I guess I just didn't expect bears to be so . . . civilized."

  "Well, if you think this is fancy, you should see the wolf parties; the mixers they throw would be enough to make Louis XIV blush, to say nothing of their yearly balls. This is pretty tame, all things considered."

  "So, what's the plan? We just tell the elders that the Bianchis are murdering people?"

  Kyle shot Jo a narrow-eyed glare. "We aren't doing anything. This is a ‘speak when spoken to' kind of situation for you, little lady. So, unless one of the elders calls you specifically to make a statement, just stand there and look pretty."

  Kyle's expression softened as he gave Jo a quick once-over with his eyes. "Something that won't exactly be hard, from where I'm standing."

  Jo's face blushed in spite of the little well of indignant anger roiling in the pit of her stomach.

  One second he's bossing me around, the next he's buttering me up; I can't let my guard down for a second with this guy.

  In spite of herself, she found her eyes tracking over to one of the many mirrors that lined the walls of the hall.

  I guess I don't look too bad, she thought, looking over her body in the long, slinky, black dress she was wearing. Why Kyle had this dress lying around, I have no idea.

  Before she could give too much thought to the idea that Kyle was a secret cross-dresser, a couple approached Jo and Kyle. The man was trim with close-cropped red hair and a face of all angles, and the woman was a pure olive-skinned, dark-haired beauty.

  "Well, if it isn't our local Sapien," said the red-haired man through a smirk. "Here to keep tabs?"

  "A pleasure as always, Chapman," said Kyle, his eyes settling on the woman. "And, who do we have here?"

  Jo noticed the woman blush right away, even through her dark complexion.

  Quite the effect he has on women, she thought, a small tinge of jealousy forming.

  "This is Alana; she's a lynx," said Chapman, clearly pleased with himself.

  "That she is," said Kyle, shaking her hand gently.

  "I can speak for myself, thank you very much," said Alana, her voice as slinky and sensual as the rest of her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thorne; news of your work gets around fast."

  His work? thought Jo.

  "Just doing what they pay me for," said Kyle, seemingly unaffected by the compliments.

  "Please," said Alana, "don't be modest. That job you did taking out that snake terrorist? God knows how many lives you saved."

  But, Kyle was quick to change the subject. "Have you both met Josephine Walsh?" he asked, gesturing to Jo.

  Chapman turned his eyes to Jo, looking her over and sniffing the air.

  "She's not one of us," he said, his tone turning serious, his eyes narrowing. "There a reason why you're bringing a human into our clan meeting?"

  "There's some serious shit going down," said Kyle. "I wouldn't do it if it weren't necessary."

  Then Kyle placed his hand on Jo's hip, leading her away from the conversation. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he said, a smirk on his face.

  Chapman narrowed his eyes as the pair left, and Jo couldn't help but notice Alana's gaze linger on Kyle.

  "God, I hate that guy," said Kyle, leading Jo towards the bar.

  "Who is he?"

  "One of the many, many social climbers in the society. Some of us try to make our way by doing an honest day's work, and others, like Chapman, try to schmooze their way to the top. That exotic, little number on his arm is from the Gomez family–they're one of the lynx clans. Worth an ungodly amount of money."

  Jo looked around, taking in the lavish décor and other signs of wealth on display.

  "Doesn't look like anyone here is hurting for cash," she said.

  "Trust me–when you run with the city elite you find out pretty quick that they're just as petty as anyone else. Chapman's a low-end millionaire, meaning he doesn't carry much water, if you get what I'm saying. Money buys influence and power in the shifter clans; some of The Three are worth billions. But, you'd never know their names unless you were part of our world. Secrecy and power are the names of the game."

  "The Three?"

  "Every society has its own set of three elders; though the word ‘elder' can be somewhat of a misnomer; plenty are on the younger side. They're the leaders, in a sense, of the three clans, and the diplomatic face to the other species. How much they can actually lead is up for debate, however."

  Jo felt suddenly tense; being around all of this wealth and power made her feel very self-conscious. Her eyes moved from one gorgeous, well-dressed rich person to another, then another. Her head started to swirl. Noticing this, Kyle ordered a pair of glasses of champagne from the bar and handed one to Jo. S
he looked down at the bubbly liquid for a brief moment before bringing the glass to her lips and taking a long sip.

  "Am . . . I going to be meeting The Three?" she asked.

  "Sure are," said Kyle. "But you can leave the talking to me. It's hardly unheard of for humans to mingle with us, but you'll need to be made a familiar face as soon as possible. Unless you want to have types like Chapman giving you the third degree."

  Jo scanned the crowd for who might be the three elders.

  "They're not here," said Kyle. "Yet, at least. You'll know when they show up; don't you worry."

  Jo looked down the long room, her eyes settling on a raised stage, three ornate chairs, all exactly the same in design and size, placed upon it. The seats and backs were a deep, red velvet, and the centers of the top of the back of each were adorned with hand-carved bear heads, their mouths open in fearsome roars.

  Jo stayed at Kyle's side. She was afraid to even go to the bathroom for fear of offending someone at best, making enemies at worst. She felt like she was in some strange country in which she had no understanding of the culture or customs.

  Not to mention, every single person there was wealthy and beautiful.

  They made their way through the room, Kyle mingling in his smooth, boyishly charming manner, Jo saying nothing other than "nice to meet you." After a half hour or so, she found herself becoming accustomed to the skeptical glares she was receiving from the shifters once they found out she was a human. Jo was a little surprised to see how much Kyle's reputation proceeded him; it appeared to Jo that his position as a Sapien gave him a high standing among the other shifters.

  Then, after a time, a low chime sounded. The room grew hushed, and the music slowed and decreased in volume until it was silent.

  "What's going on?" whispered Jo to Kyle.

  "You wanted to see The Three. Well, here they are."

  Jo's eyes stayed fixed on the stage. She didn't know what to expect. Then, on the right side of the room, a tall door opened, and out stepped three figures. One was a short, squat man, his hair in tight, wet-looking curls, his pudgy body packed into an expensive-appearing dark suit of a fleur-de-lis pattern, a blood red tie tucked into a his waistcoat. Next, an impossibly tall and gorgeous woman of blanche-white skin and long limbs entered, her slender body wrapped in a tight, orange dress. Her hair was flame-orange, and her cheekbones were so sharp they almost seemed to a cutting point. The final entrant was a man, appearing to be no older than thirty. He was handsome, with bright features and a red mouth pulled into a sneering smirk. His hair was bright blond, and his frame was trim and light.

  The three of them made their way to the seats on stage, sitting down and looking over the crowd.

  "That's them?" asked Jo, her eyes flicking from person to person.

  "That's them," confirmed Kyle.

  Silence hung heavy in the room as the three continued to look over the crowd, the carved bear heads of the chairs looming over them.

  Finally, the redheaded woman spoke, her voice melodious and light.

  ‘Welcome one and all. Let's not waste any time."

  "That's Symphony Pendergast," said Kyle in a low voice to Jo. "Don't let her whimsical name fool you; she's hard as nails."

  The squat man settled into his chair and spoke, his voice almost higher than Symphony's, his demeanor languid.

  "We will, as always, begin with hearing any concerns of members of our society. Please, form an orderly line and keep your statements as brief as possible."

  "That's Emil Anon," said Kyle. "The most senior of the three. He's been one of The Three for decades, and we're all starting to get the impression that there are other things he'd rather be doing."

  Jo watched as a handful of well-dressed men and women formed a line in front of the stage.

  "Get ready for some goddamn boredom," said Kyle.

  "Why? What's going on?"

  "This meeting we have has a few functions, and one of them is to let the richest of the rich in our shifter society make complaints about whatever happens to be crawling up their ass at this particular moment."

  "I don't understand," said Jo. "Isn't what you have to report on more important?"

  "You'd think so, but c'est la vie."

  A silver-haired man with an aristocratic bearing approached the stage, cleared his throat, and began to speak.

  "Hmm, yes," he began. "I wanted to make my displeasure known regarding the bears in our community that have been . . . associating with the apes in Williamsburg. They've been spending their evenings going from bar to bar, causing a ruckus and paying no respect to the society elders like me. I demand that something be done!"

  The young, handsome man, spoke, his head resting on his hand. Jo thought that he couldn't look more bored.

  "Freedom of association," he said, his voice a rich tenor.

  "Hm?" said the complaining man.

  "Freedom of association. There aren't many rules to how the different societies interact, but this is one of them. Do you really want the society elders to start telling shifters who they can and can't be seen with?"

  "I-I just don't want these . . . children going around showing disrespect!"

  "Well, fine, Castor," said the young man. "Then we'll have to start regulating the foxes that you can't seem to keep your hands off of."

  "That's different!" said the man, his face turning a deep red.

  But, the young man simply waved him away.

  "Who's that?" asked Jo.

  "That is Marcus Abronde," said Kyle, his eyes fixed on the young man, who was now watching, a smile on his face, the older gentleman that he'd just sent off in a huff. "Youngest member of The Three we've ever had."

  "How'd . . . how'd he get so much power?" asked Jo. "He's sitting up there like he owns the place."

  "There was an incident with the tigers years back. A renegade clan in their society was demanding independence, claiming that they owned territory in the city that belonged to us. Tensions grew between the bears and the tigers, and for a little while, it looked like war might break out."

  "Then what happened?"

  "Marcus, along with a handful of other bears, took it upon themselves to . . . ah, get rid of the offending clan. A dozen tigers, wiped out like that."

  He snapped his fingers.

  "Needless to say, when the dust settled and when it became clear that The Three of neither society was able to do what an upstart was able to on his own, the many of the higher-ups in the society started thinking that some fresh blood is exactly what The Three needed. So, there he sits. Some think he's getting a little too big for those skinny jeans of his, but no one can argue with how he's been able to keep the peace."

  Jo watched as more and more well-dressed members of the society approached the stage, each sharing their grievances that seemed to be comprised of petty squabbles among fellow bears that they felt warranted intervention by The Three. All were mollified to some extent, though some were outright dismissed.

  "I think I've had enough complaints for one evening," said Marcus, dismissing those remaining with a wave of his hand.

  Marcus then sniffed the air, his face tightening into a quizzical expression.

  "Do you two smell that?" he asked, looking around.

  Symphony sniffed the air next.

  "Now that you mention it . . .," she said.

  Emil sat up in his chair, now sniffing the air with interest. Jo's stomach tightened; something told her that she had something to do with this.

  "Human," said Marcus, a sly smile forming on his lips. "A new one."

  "Whoever has brought a human here, please step forward and explain yourself," said Emil, his voice taking on a hostile tone.

  "That's our cue," said Kyle, not appearing to Jo to be bothered in the least.

  Tossing back the rest of his drink, he ambled towards the stage, only turning to beckon Jo to follow him. Now feeling as nervous as she'd ever been in her life, Jo followed after Kyle, the eyes of the dozens in attendance
now on her.

  "Ah," said Marcus, his steely eyes settling on Kyle. "Something from one of the Sapiens. At least, this has the promise of being interesting."

  "I don't know if ‘interesting' is the word I would use," said Kyle. "But, definitely worth the attention of the esteemed gathering of The Three."

  Jo arrived at Kyle's side and looked him over; if he was nervous about being in the presence of the leaders of his society, he didn't show it. If anything, he seemed to treat their authority as something of a joke. Jo, on the other hand, felt small and helpless as she stood before The Three, looking up at them as they sat in their high-backed chairs, their three pairs of eyes focused on her and Kyle.

  "Explain yourself, Sapien," demanded Symphony, her brilliant, golden eyes staring down at Jo.

  "Yes," said Emil, seconding her gaze with his own watery, beady eyes. "It's no small thing to bring a human into our midst; I trust that you have a damn good reason for this."

  "I do," said Kyle. "It's the wolves."

  Now Marcus paid close attention.

  "The wolves? You think that they're planning something?" he asked.

  "Well, more specifically, the Bianchis."

  "The Bianchis?" asked Emil. "But, no one has heard from them in years!"

  "There's a reason for that," said Kyle.

  He explained everything to The Three. And, when he was done, they simply sat back, considering the information. Jo could hear murmurs among the crowd behind her.

  "You're claiming that the Bianchis are planning some sort of coup among the wolves?" asked Symphony.

  "That's what I believe," said Kyle. "If they pull off this plan, then they'll have the resources to take control of the wolf society. And, if they do . . . ."

  He paused, letting the idea sink in.

  "Well," he continued. "Then I don't really have to explain to you what that might mean for us."

  "War," said Emil.

  Jo's eyes moved to Marcus; the word out of Emil's mouth seemed to settle on his ears to some delight, as though he were excited by the possibility.

  "Still," said Emil. "Bringing in a human was not necessary. With each human that knows about our society, the greater the danger that we'll be discovered."