Bite, my wolf demanded
Bite all of them, my fox twitched.
“Wow.” I eyed Christine and a now frozen Wick. “Typical.”
“Hi, Andy.” A shy voice had me turning to see Jess, one of the shewolves in Wick’s pack, right before she enveloped me in a hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“Um…thanks.” I patted her back a bit awkwardly until she let me go. Everyone else remained frozen. Wick struggled to get Christine off. She clung to him like an octopus, but he peeled off her limbs, picked her up, and dumped her on the cushion beside him. When he turned to face me, I stilled.
“It’s not—”
I held my hand up and interrupted him. “What it looks like? Spare me. You didn’t answer your phone, so I came to tell you the Supe Slayer is a Kappa—a water supe capable of psionic mind control. Loves cucumbers and is attracted to large amounts of energy, which we already knew. Pretty stupid to have a pack meeting, if you ask me.” I gave Wick my best death stare. “Pretty stupid in general.”
“It’s a full moon tonight.” Wick’s voice was quiet. Full moon was the only time of the month Weres had no choice but to shift. They also tended to be the horniest at this time. I knew from experience with Dylan’s pack. A sharp pang stabbed my chest, and it became difficult to breathe. I wheezed in to fill my lungs.
Wick’s hands hung at his sides. With round eyes and a partly opened mouth, he walked a few steps toward me.
“Ah.” I turned my gaze to Christine, who glared back at me. Wick froze. “That explains a lot.”
“Did you want to join us, Andy?” Christine’s voice was snide.
“I think you already have the honours of being the biggest bitch here.” Meeeoow. I spun on my heel and left a sputtering Alpha behind me. Not even the scent of how he felt could catch up to me, and for that, I thanked the beast goddess, Feradea.
Wick didn’t chase after me. He didn’t call out. Confirmation of his guilt.
My heart shriveled up into nothing, and my eyes stung. I blinked and blinked, refusing to let the tears fall. He wasn’t worth it. Was he? No. No, I wouldn’t let a man make me feel like this again.
My mom had always told me, “No man is worth your tears and the one who is, won’t make you cry.”
I didn’t know who she quoted. I didn’t try too hard to find out. For some reason, I liked that it came from her.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Cynicism is an unpleasant way of saying the truth.”
~Lillian Hellman
Was it unreasonable to expect a grown virile male to stay nookie-free when women threw their bodies at him? Especially when I kept him at arm’s length? True, I hadn’t committed to either Were. Technically, Wick and I didn’t have an exclusive relationship. We hadn’t had the conversation, hadn’t slept together. Not like him and Christine.
My heart spasmed when another stabbing pain unleashed.
Well, okay. I only knew Christine wanted Wick, not if he reciprocated the feelings, or whether they’d done it. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the scene kept replaying in my mind. Her body draped over his. They hadn’t been making out, but his hand…his large calloused hand…had spanned to cup her ass and hold her in place.
More could’ve happened after I left. Or might’ve happened had I not shown up and ruined the mood. Maybe something had already occurred and I witnessed post-coital cuddling instead of the preamble to foreplay. I’d been naïve enough to believe Wick remained abstinent while pursuing me, but seeing Christine all over Wick had ripped off the blinders. I wouldn’t assume good behaviour from anyone anymore.
Cynical? You bet.
Maybe I acted unreasonable. After all, Tristan’s hand had been on my ass the way Wick’s had been on Christine’s. Didn’t that make me as bad as Wick?
No.
Not in my opinion. And that’s what hurt. I’d been upfront and honest with Wick. My animals pulled me in two different directions to two different mates. When things got hot and heavy with Tristan, I’d stopped him from having his wonderful way with me out of respect for Wick. But then, to find Wick in the arms of Christine, not affording me the same respect… If blood could boil in a living body, mine did.
The plastic steering wheel squeaked under my hands as I clutched it tightly and banged my forehead against it. A few honks sounded behind me, and I looked up to find a green light. I couldn’t get home fast enough. When I finally slammed the door to my apartment behind me, I locked it and went straight for the Canadian Club. Nothing like the burn of whiskey to wipe away the image of Wick and Christine sitting in a tree.
After a few swigs and some embarrassing coughing, I enjoyed the fleeting dizziness of inebriation. My high metabolism quickly demolished the floating feeling, and the cold stark fall back to sobriety followed. I couldn’t even get drunk right.
One more group remained to warn about the Kappa. I capped the bottle and promised CC I’d be back soon. Deep down, I knew it was for the best that my speedy metabolic rate prevented more than a moment of drunkenness. I couldn’t drown my sorrows in a bottle. Nobody could. It only made it worse in the end.
Dragging my feet, I made my way down the hall and pounded on my neighbour’s door. When it was finally flung open, I had a second to register Christopher’s angry face before he blew a fine white dust into my face.
“What the hell?” I batted at the air in front of me. I started sneezing. The powder flew into my nose and stuck there, clogging my lungs. My mouth gaped open, sucking back long dregs of air, only to take in more of the vile powder. I stumbled and sank to the floor. Christopher stood over me with a smug look on his face, unaffected by my suffocation.
The beast rose. I squashed her back down. Not needed. My mind sought the mountain lion and I willed the change. The process dislodged the powder as my feline form flowed forth and wiped out the more fragile human one. I gathered my strength, belly low and stared down my enemy, my prey.
Christopher’s eyes widened as I hissed and stalked forward. He staggered backward, tripped on the carpet and caught himself from falling by latching onto the door frame. He mouthed the word, “No.”
Too late, I hissed. Muscles tense, ears back, I prepared to pounce.
“What the hell?” Ben bellowed, running up behind Christopher. “What’s going on?”
I blinked. Then, I stopped snarling. Realizing how close I came to leaping and tearing the Witch apart, I sat down and waited to hear the full story. My tail twitched.
Christopher turned his mute stare to Ben. He didn’t say anything—wouldn’t or couldn’t—I didn’t care. One false move and I’d detach his head from his shoulders. He tried to kill me and I wasn’t in a forgiving mood.
Christopher jammed a bottle of white powder into Ben’s hand. It had a label. Ben quickly read it and started sputtering. “Why would you do that? Do you have any idea how dangerous she is?”
I purred at the compliment, and they both glanced in my direction. Ben cast me a nervous smile and Christopher gave me a death stare. That’s it. Off with his head. My purring stopped, replaced with a deeper, more volatile rumble. I shunted my weight to my hind limbs.
“No!” Ben threw his arms wide and stood in front of Christopher. “Andy, stop. Please. He’s sensitive about not speaking, and you insulted him.”
I yowled.
Ben cringed and moved his hands up and down in a frantic effort to get me to calm down. “I know! I know! He shouldn’t have tried to kill you. He should be punished, and he will. But please, not death. He’s a victim here as much as you.”
Christopher twitched, and my attention snapped to him.
“Matt! Patty!” Ben called out over his shoulder. “Get Chris out of here.”
I tilted my head and listened to the other two Witches scurry over to haul Christopher out of my line of sight. My eyes narrowed at Ben. He took away my prey.
“Please. Shift back. Let’s talk.”
If anyone understood emotional damage, it was me. It took me over thirty-t
hree years to get over the majority of my past, and it still came back to kick my ass from time to time. Christopher obviously had Demons to fight like me. Did that make his actions okay? No. But dammit, I liked these Witches.
I huffed and shifted back. My limbs tingled from the quick, successive transformations. To hide the shaking of my body, I placed a hand on my hip and glared at Ben.
Ben’s eyes rounded and did an up and down dance until he trained them on the ceiling. “You’re naked!”
“Of course, I’m naked! Clothes don’t shift with me.” I pointed to my shredded clothes, but the gesture was lost on him. He made an effort to look anywhere but at me, so he missed it. “You owe me a new outfit.”
“Yeah, of course, whatever. Can you go put some clothes on?”
I folded my arms over my boobs and cocked a hip. “Now why would I want to do that? I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, and I like that this makes you uncomfortable. You need to put a leash on your mute, or I will kill him.” My falcon screeched her approval in my head.
Ben nodded, gaze still averted. “Understood.”
“I also came to warn you.”
Ben glanced at me. His eyes quickly travelled down before he caught himself and looked up at the ceiling again. “What about?”
“The Supe Slayer is a Kappa. It uses psionic powers to control humans to attack groups of supernaturals. He gets the humans to drag them to the nearest body of water so he can feed off their energy. We’re pretty close to the river, and you live with a bunch of other Witches. I thought you should know. Maybe mix some potions up and fortify yourselves against an attack or something.”
“Thanks, Andy. We owe you.” His gaze flicked to my face.
I gave him a pointed stare. “You have no idea.”
****
After getting all the locations of human attacks, supe bodies and human bodies suspected of being involved with the Supe Slayer from Stan over the phone, I started mapping the incidences to determine the location of the Kappa. Stan hadn’t been too supportive, claiming if an entire division of cops couldn’t find a link from the data, there was no way I would. Silently, I agreed with him, but my pride wouldn’t let my mouth stay shut. I’d cursed and told him where to stick his support, and he’d muttered a half-assed good luck before hanging up.
By far my favorite cop.
Looking at my map, riddled with dots, I came up with nothing and regretted my strong words to Stan. The incidences were scattered throughout the Lower Mainland of British Columbia—rivers, streams, ocean. Nothing consistent…unless…unless they all came from the same source. I set my coffee mug back down and stumbled closer to the large map I’d pulled out and frantically pinned to my living room wall. Nope. That didn’t work. Different feeder lakes—Pitt, Steve, Harrison. If backtracking didn’t work, maybe looking forward would. The Fraser River was the biggest river that spliced through the area, but there were too many clusters that couldn’t be linked to it for the Kappa to operate from there.
All water runs to the sea.
Gah! It was as obvious as a boner in sweatpants. Now I had an answer if anyone ever asked me what it felt like to be struck by lightning. The Kappa originated from Japan. How did it get here? Duh! The most direct route for a water supe to get to the west coast was to swim across the Pacific Ocean.
No point in getting my panties twisted trying to figure out why a Kappa would take such an exorbitant step to remove itself from its natural habitat, but if I extrapolated the exits of all the streams and rivers, I could find out if anything intersected. The cops wouldn’t have known the origin of the supe until now. No wonder they missed it.
Tapping on my door interrupted my ruler and pencil work. I put them down and stretched my neck out as I made my way to the front door. If Christopher stood out there with another batch of magical pixie dust, I was going to—
A pile of humans burst through the door. I heard glass breaking and bodies entering through the sliding doors behind me. Spinning around, I shifted quickly to a mountain lion. Nausea slammed my body from the speed of the transformation. If I could make it to open sky, I had a chance of flying out of here.
The bright-eyed humans piled onto me, grabbing at my legs and tail and fur. I lashed out, swiping them away, but they kept coming back in waves. I tried not to hurt them too much because I knew they were victims as well, but I wasn’t willing to be Kappa food to protect them.
I yowled and bucked out of the grasp of two strong men. Whipping around, I flung three people off my back, but more replaced them. Panic started to seep into my consciousness as I kept spinning and trying for the exits.
Someone shoved a burlap bag smelling of onions over my head. Snarling, I bit at it and shook violently. I couldn’t get the material loose. Rope slid over my body and I barreled away from the sensation only to meet a wall of human bodies.
The beast stirred.
No. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Let it, my fox whispered, a little red devil on my shoulder. Embrace it.
They managed to bind my hind limbs. I kept kicking the humans away, but the ropes dug into my fur, tightening with every movement. They’d come prepared. My front claws sank into the sack and yanked hard, but tiny human hands kept pulling the material back.
The beast started to rise.
No!
Embrace it like a fera, but keep your mind, keep it separate. The fox nudged my mind with her nose.
Keep control, my cat hissed.
We help, my wolf growled.
If my falcon said anything, the cacophony of voices in my head along with the successful binding of my front legs drowned her out and shriveled any remaining resolve to keep the beast chained.
Instead of letting the beast overwhelm me, I embraced it, as I would any of my feras, and willed the change. Skin stretched, bones snapped.
It hurts. I’d forgotten about the pain.
Teeth elongated, claws protracted, scales replaced fur. My insides sent waves of sheering pain through my body as they expanded. Ribs cracked, my heart swelled, limbs stretched. As I grew in size, the ropes snapped free and the burlap onion bag ripped off. Some of the humans cried out and fell back. Rage filled every fibre of my being down to the cellular level. My body swayed as the fading pain drained from my essence and left me high on adrenalin. I hummed with energy.
I opened my eyes and squinted at the bright light. Possessed humans surrounded me with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Their limbs hung useless at their sides.
I roared.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I found my inner bitch and ran with her.”
~Courtney Love
Three unexpected things happened at once. My neighbours barged through what remained of my front door armed with all sorts of Witch paraphernalia and looking more like the kids from The Goonies than characters from Modern Warfare; Wick and Tristan dove into my living room from the busted bay window, both in human form but snarling; and all the possessed human’s lost the brightness in their eyes and dropped to the ground like limp sacks of potatoes.
The beast roared again, straining against my control, wanting to mete justice. I wanted justice. The beast represented the darkest side of me. I saw that now. With my head tipped back, hands clenched, and wings stretched out behind me, I bellowed my anger, shaking the whole building. A car alarm went off outside.
“What the hell is that?” Tristan hissed.
“I think it’s Andy,” Wick replied.
“Um…looks like everything’s good here,” Ben mumbled. “We’ll uh…We’ll just go back next door.” He turned to the exit, catching my attention. My eyes narrowed, my body instinctively moved to track his. Prey, the beast’s voice chilled my blood down to the very marrow.
“Stop!” Tristan barked out.
Ben froze as if he’d stepped on a land mine and realized he couldn’t step off or he’d blow up. Not far off. I tensed. My predator eyes watched every movement, waiting for an opening, waiting for weakness.
&n
bsp; Tristan held up his hand. “Back out of the room slowly. Don’t give her your back.”
Wick nodded. “We don’t know how much control Andy has.”
I narrowed my eyes at Ben, retreating backward with his arms up. He tripped on his own feet and stumbled. Prey, the beast growled. I surged forward and Ben scurried out the door in a crab walk. I stood and considered going after him. My stomach rumbled. Hungry.
“Andy.” Wick’s whiskey and cream voice interrupted my thoughts and I whirled around. He stood in the middle of the room, with his hands out to the sides in a non-threatening gesture. “I am sorry about earlier.”
Tristan glanced over to the Werewolf. “Probably not the time to remind her why she’s pissed at you.”
Wick waved him off and turned back to me. “It was not what you think.”
My attention pinned down on Wick’s face. The betrayer. Anger rose up from within like a bubble of stomach acid. I barred my teeth, and hissed.
“Those are some large fangs,” Tristan mumbled.
“Can you talk, Andy?” Wick’s eyes widened as I took another menacing step toward him.
“Betrayer,” I growled, my voice ricocheted off the walls. Wick cringed and Tristan looked wary.
“That’s the beast talking, Andy,” Wick said.
Was it? The emotion zinging through my body felt right. Images of Christine fawning over him while she sat in his lap replayed in my mind. Then, images of their naked bodies entwined, with her straddling him while he guided her gyrating hips with his large calloused hands. They moaned together in pleasure. My attention zoned in to his palms, held out in a supplicating gesture.
“Do not let the beast use your anger to consume you.” Tristan poured power into his words.”It’s okay to be pissed at Wick, but you don’t want to kill him.”
Didn’t I? Emotion swirled within me before it settled a little, like dust after being disturbed. No, I didn’t want to kill him. I sucked a deep breath in, while the beast, still agitated, paced in my head.
“You’re safe now,” Wick said.
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