Shifter Wars Complete Series
Page 13
"What's the meaning of this?" demanded one of the three, a heavy, red-haired woman.
"Just your friendly, neighborhood Sapien," said Kyle, taking command of the room.
"Mr. Thorne," said Mr. Jane, appearing nonplused by the interruption.
The Bianchis in attendance tightened like springs, ready to attack. Mr. Jane simply held up his hand.
"I trust that you both have a good reason for interrupting this meeting?" asked one of the three.
"I wouldn't be here if we didn't," said Kyle, gesturing to Jo.
Jo ran to his side, slipped the flash drive out of her pocket, and stuck it into the projector. Seeing that there was more to what was going on than simple grandstanding, Mr. Jane attempted to turn the device off.
"No," said Mr. Sugre. "Let them speak."
Jo took a breath and began. She told them everything–the murder, the money laundering, the plans to purchase the tower, the consolidation of resources, and all of the details of the Bianchi's plot.
"And, that brings us to right now," said Kyle. "The real reason for this evening–to murder all of you and take control over the wolf society."
Mr. Sugre stood up, aghast.
"Is this true, Jane?" he demanded.
"No!" Mr. Jane responded, stammering. "They're lies! Lies from the bears to undermine us wolves!"
"If that's the case," said Mr. Sugre, "a full investigation would bear this out. The words of Sapiens aren't taken lightly."
Mr. Jane appeared to realize that he was trapped. A wild look in his eyes, he turned to the rest of his clan.
"Now!" he shouted.
Within moments, the entire clan was shifted, the wolves bearing down on the three and their council.
"Jane!" shouted Sugre, "you goddamned traitor!"
Kyle turned to Jo.
"Stay back!" he shouted just before shifting.
Jo complied, taking cover.
Mr. Jane was the last to change, his form larger and stronger than any others. The wolves of the Bianchi clan set upon those of the council, and a fierce melee erupted. Roars and snarls filled the air as the wolves attacked one another, each in a battle for his or her life. Mr. Jane stared at Kyle, murder and venom in his glowing, blood-red eyes.
Then, with a roar, Mr. Jane pounced at Kyle. The two struggled for a time, swiping at one another with their deadly claws. Jo watched the unfolding from her vantage point, seeing that the Bianchis were being overpowered by the council one by one. Soon, Kyle and Mr. Jane were the only ones in combat.
"Jane!" shouted Mr. Sugre. "It's all over. Shift back now, and we'll take you into custody. Resist, and we'll be forced to kill you."
Mr. Jane shifted back, his chest rising and falling as he looked around the room at those of his clan who still lived.
"Good," said Kyle. "Now drop to your knees."
"Fools!" shouted Jane. "You'll be the ones brought to your knees!"
Then he darted to Jo, grabbing her by the wrist and rushing over to one of the windows. With a swift jab of his elbow, he shattered the window, the wind rushing into the room, the council taking cover.
"Leave now!" shouted Jane to Kyle. "Or I kill the human!"
"You really don't want to do this," shouted Kyle, shifting back into his human form.
"You'll see just what I'm willing and capable of doing!" responded Mr. Jane.
Kyle's eyes flicked to Jo, who struggled against Mr. Jane's grip. Their eyes met, and Jo calmed. She nodded, her face one of grim determination.
Then, she raised her arm, driving her elbow into Mr. Jane's stomach. The blow wasn't hard enough to do damage, but it was enough to stagger Mr. Jane for long enough for Kyle to rush in, tackle him, and allow Jo to break free.
Mr. Jane in his grips in front of the shattered window, Kyle raised his hand, shifting it into his bear form. Then, with a full, fearsome swipe, he brought his claw down over Mr. Jane's face, the feeling of his neck breaking a low crack against his paw. Then, he pushed the man out of the window, sending the leader of the Bianchi clan down to his death on the streets hundreds of feet below.
Once it was clear the fighting was over, Jo rushed to Kyle's side, burying her face into his neck, happy beyond compare that she was finally safe in his arms.
EPILOGUE
A ringing sounded through the apartment, an insistent, low chiming that woke Jo out of her deep rest. Her eyes opened slowly, widening completely as she placed her arm on Kyle's side of the bed only to find cool sheets instead of the warm body that she was expecting.
The chiming stopped as Jo heaved out of bed. She placed her feet onto the cool, bedroom floor and stretched out her limbs.
"You gonna spend all day in bed or what?" asked Kyle.
Jo looked up and saw Kyle standing in the bedroom door frame. He was already dressed in a crisp, light-blue, button-up and a pair of dark-gray, dress slacks.
"Is it time already?" asked Jo.
"It's been time. Go get dressed; I'll distract Winston."
Jo's blood began to pump faster as she realized that she was late for today's briefing.
Shucking off her pajama bottoms and top, Jo glanced at a nearby clock and saw that it was nearly eight in the morning.
Hell of a way to make a good first impression, she thought, stepping into a pair of slacks and putting on the most professional blouse that wasn't wrinkled beyond use.
Once dressed, she pulled open the curtains to the bedroom, the space filling with bright, late morning sunlight.
It'd been two weeks since the incident with the Bianchis, and she and Kyle had been inseparable. Figuring the Brooklyn safe house was as good of a place as any, Kyle moved into the apartment, and suggested, in his coy manner, that Jo would be more than welcome to join him, if she was interested in trying to make things work with a shifter. She was more than happy to give it a shot.
Jo's conduct during the delicate operation had attracted the attention of some of the higher-ups in the Sapiens. After the two had gotten settled in, Kyle let her know that he learned through Winston that the Sapiens were looking for new human liaisons, that is, humans who through one way or another had found out about the world of the shifters, and were capable and willing to provide assistance to Sapien operations that required human operatives. Jo, figuring that the world of real estate was nothing compared to what she'd seen, accepted the challenge.
". . . and that's why you're easily the best, just the best handler that I've had the pleasure of working with," said Kyle to the television, the Sapien logo on the screen indicating that Winston was on the call.
"Ah, there she is," said Winston in her crisp, professional voice. "The reason for your compliments is becoming clear."
"Sorry," said Jo. "Late night last night."
And, it had been. The two were up until the early hours doing recon on a Tiger meeting that ended up being nothing more than a birthday party for one of the elders.
"I know," said Winston. "But, hopefully, this assignment is something a little more exciting."
"Excitement is why I'm in this game," said Kyle, handing Jo a coffee mug before taking a sip of his own.
"Not for my charming, bubbly personality?" asked Winston.
"That's pretty high on the list," said Kyle with a smirk.
Jo elbowed him as Winston continued on.
"You both remember Lucien DeBoer, the fox elder that I had you schmooze with at that party a week or so ago?"
"Remember?" asked Jo, "he's been texting me trying to set up a date every day for the last week."
"Should I be jealous?" asked Kyle, to which Jo responded with a smile and an eye roll.
"Hmm, maybe you'll have to do some convincing to keep my eye from wandering."
"Sounds like a date," said Kyle.
"Cool it, you two," said Winston. "Anyway, we've got reports that he's not just into a little light fraud here and there."
"Oh yeah? Then what's his game?" asked Kyle.
"One word," said Winston. "Dragons."
THE END
Book 2: Rising Tide
Sarah J. Stone
CHAPTER 1
NADIA
I rushed down the long, narrow hallway with my arms wrapped around several sheaves of loose-leaf paper, hot from the printer. Among the sheets was all the documentation I’d been required to bring: my shifter society ID, her clan affiliation, and, the most important documents, her test scores.
Today, I was starting her new career as a Sapien, the agency known as the eyes and ears of the New York shifter community. And I couldn't be more nervous. Or late.
The other men and women coming and going in the hallway looked at me with skepticism in their eyes as I hurried passed, and all I could do was blurt out apology after apology as I bumped past them, my squeaky voice cutting through the otherwise professional calm of the entry hallway. Not one of the well-dressed Sapiens seemed to be amused by my antics, and my face flushed a deep, hot red as I made my way toward the tall, wooden doors at the end of the hall.
"Sorry!" I said, sidling past a particularly grave-faced woman with gray hair and eyes that lingered on me as I angled my slim body to make as small a shape as I could.
And right as I turned my eyes back forward onto the doors, I ran into something rock solid, a yelp leaving my mouth as my papers flew out of my arms. As I looked up, my eyes tracked along the body that stood above me. It was an impossibly tall, dark-skinned man dressed in a sharp black suit, his face with open, piercing blue eyes and a mouth in a hard, flat line. Staring down at me and spotting right away that he was dealing with a newbie, he shook his head, squatted, and began gathering the papers that had flown everywhere.
"Thank you so much," I said. "And I'm so-so-so sorry."
The man simply let out small, exasperated breath as he helped me up. Once I was back on my feet, he handed me the papers, which were now completely out of order, and went along his way.
Great, I thought, first day on the job and I'm already making enemies.
But I knew I didn't have time to stand around and consider the terrible first impression I was sure I was making. Checking my phone again, I saw that I was already fifteen minutes late my first day. I imagined the cool, impassive face of Ms. Delahunt, the supervisor who'd made the final decision on bringing me on board and would be her direct superior. I could picture clearly in my mind Ms. Delahunt sitting patiently in her stately office, one eye on the wall clock as she wondered just why, exactly, she'd decided to take a chance on me.
Finally, I reached the tall doors leading into Sapien HQ. I stood back, taking a deep breath as the facial identity scanner cast a red wave of light on my face. A small panel of the wood door dropped, revealing a mirror with built-in electronics that analyzed her face, small green dots appearing on the screen at various points and angles of my face. I felt another rush of embarrassment as I regarded my reflection, noting how my straw-blonde hair had been messily tussled in my fall, and how silly and big my blue eyes looked behind the glasses I’d chosen to wear. A red flush had broken out across my face, my skin betraying every last trace of my blush.
"Identity confirmed," the cool, calm voice spoke from somewhere within the door. "Nadia Helmsley, rank one."
Yeah, I know I'm new. You don't need to remind me.
A click sounded from within the door and, with a heavy creak, it opened. I couldn't help but gasp as I looked upon what had been revealed.
The main hub of Sapien HQ was a massive, open rotunda, the ceiling stretching up dozens of feet up. There were multiple floors to the space, each visible from where she stood at the entrance. A Large column of wood encircled the main floor, and I craned my neck backwards as I walked in, coming to a stop in the middle of the circle. The place was like some kind of grand library. Looking down, I saw that I was standing on a logo of a snake coiled at the feet of an owl—the symbol of the Sapiens. It was an amazing place, and I couldn't believe that I was now a part of this secretive, powerful organization.
After gathering my bearings, I remembered just how late I was and hurried to a nearby directory. I’d only spoken to Ms. Delahunt through video call, and had no idea where her office was. I’d been given only the scantest of instructions for my first day, just a time and an address, both of which were delivered in a computer file that deleted itself within seconds of being opened.
Scanning the tall directory screen, I found Ms. Delahunt's name. I made my way to the elevators, ignoring the stares of other, more experienced agents as they watched me, an obvious newbie, make my way through the place.
Room forty-two, second floor. I turned on my heels and moving as fast as my legs would take me. An elevator ride later, I was on the right floor and soon after, I stood at the door to Ms. Delahunt's office, her name written in simple, gold lettering on a silver plaque.
Here goes nothing. I took a deep breath and giving the door a gentle rapping.
"Who is it?" the stern voice from within asked.
"It's, um, Nadia Helmsley."
"I can't hear you, dear. You're going to have to speak up."
I cleared my throat and straightened my back. "Nadia Helmsley," I said, louder this time.
A moment passed.
"Come in," the voice said finally.
I placed my hand on the curved, gold handle and turned it, pushing the door open slowly, not wanting to draw attention to myself.
The door opened to a small but well-appointed office, a windowless space of rich, wooden walls and a stately desk in the back middle of the room. Over the desk was a large, stuffed owl, its wings spread and beak open, as if preparing to go in for the kill on some helpless prey. I recognized it from her video calls with Ms. Delahunt, her eyes moving to the wall clock on the wall behind the desk whose tocks cut through the silence of the room with each passing second. And seated at the desk was the small, slender figure of Ms. Delahunt. She was a serious-faced woman whose features were carved with deep wrinkles that fanned out from the corner of her prim mouth and watery, gray eyes. Her silver hair was tied in thick knot at the back of her head, and she peered out at me over frameless reading glasses. Her thin fingers were weaved together on the desk, and a look of mild impatience was on her face.
"Sit," she said, flicking her eyes over to the high-backed leather chair across from the desk.
"Sorry-for-being-late," I said, the words coming out in a clumsy tumble as I darted over to the chair and took a seat.
Ms. Delahunt said nothing, instead extending her slim, wrinkled hand toward me. I passed her my papers, my stomach tightening as I thought about how badly mixed-up they were.
"Nadia Helmsley," she said, her voice low for a woman's. "Age twenty-two; fox shifter; member of the Koenig clan." She didn't take her eyes off the papers as she leafed through them, her eyes moving quickly over the words.
"Now, I know that we've spoken before during your interview process, but please tell me again why a fox your age, with no accomplishments to speak of outside of your espionage training, has been brought onto the Sapiens? As you know, we typically require years of work for your clan before we'll even consider looking at one's application."
I wasn't sure why Ms. Delahunt was asking. Surely, she'd looked over my information during the interview process? I considered that nothing on my information stood out to the woman. Or that this was perhaps some kind of test; hidden examinations like this were something that I’d grown accustomed to in the last month.
"Um, I think it was my aptitude test scores," I asked, my voice coming out sheepish once again.
"I'm sorry?" Ms. Delahunt asked.
"My scores," I answered, getting the hint and raising my voice.
"Ah, yes," Ms. Delahunt said, flipping through the page
s and landing on the ones with my scores.
She peered down at the pages through the glasses, nodding as she did.
"Well, these are very impressive. But the typical course of action for one with such high aptitude scores would be to put them in intelligence, possibly train them to be a handler. Why have you been so insistent that you work in the field?"
"Because the idea of sitting in some office, giving orders to someone who's putting his or her life on the line...it's just now where I want to be."
"Hmm," Ms. Delahunt said, considering the answer. "Well, in the field you want, so in the field you'll go. But keep in mind that your field position is contingent on a solid performance. If we put you out into the field and you prove to be…less talented, in this position, then we won't hesitate to put you behind a desk somewhere as long as it takes for you to develop the experience to try the field once more. That could be years. Are you still willing to take the risk?"
"Yes," I asked, not hesitating for one second
"Very well."
Ms. Delahunt shuffled the papers into a neat stack and placed them off to the side.
"As you know, I'll be functioning as the supervisor during your first few operations. You will report directly to me for a debriefing after each mission."
"So, I'm working alone?" I asked.
"Please allow me to finish speaking before you ask any questions. You might find that I'm in the process of answering them."
I shut my mouth into a tight, flat line, my hands folded on my lap, as embarrassment welled within me.
"We've assigned you a partner, someone with plenty of field experience. His name's Jack Swift."
Ms. Delahunt performed a few keystrokes, and the wood panel in the wall behind her lowered, revealing a large TV. A few more types later, and a man appeared on the screen. I had to stop myself from gasping when I saw him.
The photo was of the man standing in front of a height chart. He was tall, six-four, according to the chart. He was dressed in tight blue jeans and a black Henley that strained against the muscles of his well-developed torso. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing ropy forearms that were dusted with black hair. His face was stunning. All angles that appeared to be carved out of granite. His lips were full and sensual, his nose was slim yet masculine, and his eyes were a striking blue, narrowed as though looking right into me. His face was clean-shaven and the hair on his head was buzzed short, though I could see that it was likely a deep, dark brown.