by Erin Johnson
But Peter just took my hand, ruffled Daisy’s head, and flashed his eyes. “Ready? Follow me.”
We dashed toward the gates. Madeline said something in her photographer’s ear, then sprinted after us, leaving the guy behind.
“So—what’s the—plan?” she huffed as she sprinted beside us.
I shrugged at her. No idea, but at least Peter seemed to have something in mind. He slid to a sudden stop as rallygoers flooded past us. “You two wait nearby. I’ll create a distraction, tell them I need help breaking up a fight, then you can slip past.”
It was a good plan and hardly a lie. Fights were breaking out all around us in the panic. We hung back as Peter and Daisy dashed toward the gates and the two royal guards stationed in front of them, their golden lances crossed. Peter flashed his badge, then pointed to the left. One of the guards nodded and followed him and Daisy. Peter paused and turned back, motioning for the other guard to follow, but he held his ground, just widening his stance.
Madeline smirked. “His plan half worked.” She winked at me. “C’mon. I think I can get us the rest of the way.”
Peter shot me a wide-eyed look, but I waved him on. He and Daisy could take care of restoring peace and order—leave the breaking and entering to the pet psychic and the intrepid reporter. After another moment of hesitation, Peter nodded, then led the way toward a skirmish, with Daisy and the palace guard on his heels.
Madeline sauntered up beside the remaining guard. “Hey, handsome.”
The square-jawed guy glared at her, then his face suddenly relaxed. “Maddie.” His lips split into a mischievous grin. “Wow. I haven’t seen you since—”
She batted her lashes. “The night of the luau.” She dropped her gaze, then trailed them up his body, over the gold-plated armor to his helmet. “I couldn’t get you out of my head.” She glanced over her shoulder at me and muttered out of the corner of her mouth, “He wore crazy strong cologne—had a headache for days.”
I stifled a smirk as she turned her beaming smile back to the guard. She flashed the press badge around her neck. “Sam Snakeman promised me an interview, so if you could just open the gates….”
The guard grew serious. “Aw, sorry, Maddie. I can’t. Strict orders to seal the border in light of the recent attack.”
She pouted. “You think I did it? Little ol’ me?” She winked. “C’mon, Bill.”
“Gill,” he corrected.
She tossed her hair. “Gill—that’s what I said. You know we didn’t have anything to do with it—plus the princess would be upset with you if you kept us waiting. We’re close friends, you know.” She crossed her fingers. “Besties.”
He rolled his eyes but chuckled. “I’ve seen you go in and out with those folks enough times to know that’s true. Fine.” He pushed the golden gate open and held it for us. “Quick now. And if anyone asks, it wasn’t me who let you in.”
She blew him a kiss. “Thanks, Gill. I owe you one.”
He pointed a thick finger at her. “I’ll hold you to that.”
She smirked, then whirled around and grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the gleaming white palace.
I glanced over at her. “The luau, huh?”
She fought a smile and raised a brow. “Don’t judge me. You saw his calves, right?” She gave a happy little shudder, then pulled me toward a clump of bushes. “Come on. There’s a back entrance to the servants’ passages through here.”
We soon found the wooden door studded with iron and dashed inside. We snaked our way through the dark, narrow servants’ halls, Madeline pausing now and then to debate at a fork in the path. We had to backtrack twice and drop our heads when we passed palace workers, but eventually she threw open a door, pushed aside a heavy burgundy tapestry, then cried, “Aha!”
I followed her into a stone hallway with a tall, arched ceiling. We crossed the hall, the tapestry swinging back in place behind us. She grabbed the handle of a pair of thick double doors, then pulled one open, just a crack. Buttery, sugary smells wafted out, and my mouth immediately began to water. “The bakery,” she mouthed. Madeline held up her finger, and we listened.
“Where’s Sam?!” I recognized the princess’s panicked voice.
“We must stay calm, dear.” An older lady spoke.
“I believe he shifted.” A deep male voice spoke next. “I, uh—actually spotted his shed skin.”
“Oh, dis has been a wery hard day. Sam has probably shed from stress.”
The man with the deep voice spoke again. “It’s alright. I’m sure he slithered to safety.”
“Oh, yeah, because no one in a panicked crowd that’s just thrown themselves to the ground is going to be freaked out by a snake next to their heads!” The speaker’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m sure he just slithered on out.”
“Oh, no!” a gentle, quavering voice said. “Did poor Sam get trampled?”
Next came the sound of someone clicking their tongue. “Iggy, you upset Maple.”
Madeline’s mouth tugged toward a grin. “Alright, follow me.” She gave me a little nod, then yanked the door wider and strode in. “Knock knock!”
11
The Royal Bakery
“I figured I’d find you all in here.” Madeline jogged down a few steps, and I trailed behind, taking in the huge space. The bakery smelled like butter and dough and sugar—basically add ramen, and it was my heaven.
A tall ceiling—at least three stories high—reflected moonlight that filtered in through the enormous windows that lined the walls on the second story. The marble counters and racks of copper pots and pans glinted golden, lit by several fires blazing in the wall of bread ovens.
I pulled my hands from my pockets—the fires warmed the large space, making it cozy and comfortable. I followed Madeline down the center aisle, past long, butcher-block-topped tables. Princess Imogen, Prince Harry, and their half dozen or so friends stared wide-eyed at us.
After a long moment where only the sounds of our footsteps on the marble echoed through the space, I lifted my hand in an awkward wave. “Heyyy.” I suddenly remembered I was meeting royalty and dipped into a curtsey.
Madeline grabbed my elbow and hauled me back up. “They’re not really into formality.”
“Who the shell’s she?”
It took me a moment to place the speaker—it was the little fire that burned in a lantern set on one of the long tables. The prince, princess, and former royal bakers gathered around it. I looked around the eclectic group, recognizing some of them. Rhonda the Seer stood with her arm around her undead boyfriend, Francis, whose toes hovered just above the floor. The tall, pale vampire and the short, dark psychic were the interkingdom celebrities who’d judged the baking competition earlier.
Francis lifted his hooked nose and sniffed the air. “She smells of dog and…” He squinted one eye. “Owl droppings?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it again. The odor of dog made perfect sense, given I shared space with Daisy and her fur ended up on everything. But owl droppings? Could he smell that I was an owl shifter, even though it’d been years since I could shift? I turned my head and tried to nonchalantly smell myself. If so, did that mean I still had it?
A tall guy with a red bushy beard stood beside an older woman, her gray, shoulder-length hair pulled back in a headband. She looked me over. “I’m Annie, and this is Yann.”
The big ginger guy waved.
“What’s your name, dear?”
I suddenly felt a little self-conscious of my ripped jeans and holey band tee. “Uh—I’m Jolene Hartgrave.”
The little flame’s mouth disappeared for a moment. “Are we supposed to know what that means?”
Prince Harry strode forward, palms splayed. “Madeline, this really isn’t a good time, we need—”
Madeline thumbed toward me. “Jolene knows who attacked Sam and, more importantly, why.”
That stopped the prince midsentence. His blue eyes landed on me and seemed to really take me in for the
first time. A woman in a white skirt suit stomped toward me, her white heels clicking on the marble. She was followed by the young man with the goatee and dark eyes.
I recognized her as Amelia, the event coordinator from the baking competition. I didn’t know the other guy, though.
Amelia stopped directly in front of me, her gray eyes blazing. “Tell me who hurt Sam.” Her hands trembled at her sides.
The young man put a hand on her shoulder. “Yes—please.” He bowed his head to me. “I’m Kenta.” He pressed a palm to his chest. “Sam’s partner. Do you know where he is?” He looked behind me, like I might be hiding him somewhere.
“Enough chitchat!” Amelia’s chest heaved. “Tell us what happened to Sam.”
“Whoa now.” I held up my palms and leaned back.
A tall guy who stood next to Maple, the former head baker, strode forward. He grabbed the event coordinator by the shoulders and guided her away, turning to flash me a smile. “Hey, Jolene, I’m Wiley.” He dipped his head next to Amelia’s. “Let’s hear Jolene out. But if she was involved in attacking Sam, I’ll let you at her, cool?”
As he turned his back to me, I spotted an odd black creature perched on his shoulder. The little guy’s monkey-like tail whipped from side to side. It turned its head upside down and flashed me a pointy-toothed Cheshire grin.
I instinctively recoiled. This was a weird group. Then again, celebrities were never normal, right?
“Alright, lady.” Madeline looked to me and nodded toward the royal group. “You’re up. Tell ’em what you know.”
12
Shifter Secrets
I took a deep breath. Taking Ludolf down and saving not only my own hide but also those of tons of other shifters depended on me convincing this group that I was telling the truth and that we needed their help. I lifted my chin.
“First, you should know that I’m a shifter.”
“What do you shift into?”
“Iggy!” The princess whirled around and clicked her tongue at her little flame. “That’s rude to ask… I think.”
I waved it off, grinning. “Nah, that’s okay. An owl… or at least I used to.”
The vampire shot his girlfriend a triumphant look and drawled in his deep voice, “I knew it.”
The little fire sprouted flaming arms and crossed them. “See? She said it’s fine.”
The princess crossed her own arms over her chest and shot her flame a pointed look. “Well, it could’ve been super offensive.”
The little flame huffed, bits of ash puffing out of his mouth. “Like those Hallmark movies you make me watch, sometimes?”
“Hey! Those are fun.” Princess Imogen whirled on him, and the little guy devolved into cackles.
“So touchy!”
Amelia cleared her throat loudly, breaking up the bickering. The princess and her flame shut their mouths, eyes wide. Amelia tugged at the lapels of her tailored suit—it was flattering and expensive. The kind I would’ve worn back in my lawyering days.
Then she threw a hand my way. “She says she’s got information on Sam.” She nodded at me. “Let’s hear her out.”
I licked my lips and prayed to the sea goddess that my way with words wouldn’t fail me now. “You should also know there’s a whole community of shifters that live underground, in the sewers. Thousands—I’m not even sure how many.”
Prince Harry gaped at me. “How am I just hearing about this now?”
I lifted a palm. “It’s a tightly guarded secret—I’m basically betraying my own people by revealing it to you, so, uh, keep it on the down low?” I shook my head at myself—not how you address royalty, Jolene.
But Prince Harry seemed to take it in stride. He nodded, solemn. “Understood.” He glanced at Madeline. “And you’ve seen this?”
She shook her head. “No, but I believe her. I’ve been doing a piece on the secret shifter underground, and I think I’ll win even more accolades for this than the Carclaustra piece.” Her dark eyes twinkled.
The little flame rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re an award-winning journalist, we get it.”
I swallowed and went on. “I grew up in an orphanage in the Darkmoon District.”
Princess Imogen turned to her blond friend, Maple. “That’s on a lower tier of the island, right?”
Maple nodded as the bizarro black creature scampered into her arms. It flexed and shook its strange little bat wings. “It’s where the night market is.”
Wiley grinned. “Growing up, I spent most weekend nights with my father in gambling halls down there.” He inhaled deeply. “I can smell the familiar odors of sewer and cigarette smoke now.”
“Ah, you know it well.” I grinned, then tipped my head to the side. “It’s also impoverished and home to a lot of shifters—those who don’t live underground. Shifters have been methodically oppressed, to a degree that I myself am just becoming aware of.”
I snuck an uneasy glance at Prince Harry. “King Roch deployed a propaganda campaign during the end of the Monster Wars, likening shifters to monsters. He successfully kept the blame away from himself and focused the public’s attention on ostracizing us as ‘others.’”
The prince’s expression darkened, and I was afraid he might have taken offense. Instead, he lifted his chin. “More and more of my father’s atrocities are coming to light, and it’s only right that we now do our best to repair the damage he did. On his behalf, I apologize.”
I raised my brows. Wow. Not what I was expecting. “Thanks.” I shifted on my feet. “Speaking of which, there is something you might be able to do to help make it right.”
I felt the attention of the group perk up.
The prince rubbed his wrist. “In what way?”
Madeline waggled her brows. “This is the juicy part.”
I cleared my throat. “A shifter named Ludolf Caterwaul sold out activist leaders who were fighting, decades ago, for shifter rights. Those leaders disappeared, and in exchange, King Roch basically established Ludolf as mob boss of the shifter underground. He’s the one shifters go to for jobs, housing, and justice when they’re denied all these things by the citizens and government of Bijou Mer.”
Maple, cradling the weird creature, let out a little whimper. “That’s terrible. Like poor Sam.”
I nodded. “Exactly like Sam. Ludolf has benefited for the last forty years from shifters being oppressed. In fact, in his own twisted way, he’s bought into the propaganda himself and I think believes that we deserve it.”
The princess frowned. “But he is a shifter, right?”
I nodded. “Again—pretty twisted. He’s the one who attacked Sam today—or at least, one of his lackeys did.”
Amelia stomped her foot. “He’s going to pay for that.”
I flashed her a grin. “I certainly hope so. Ludolf has a hand in tons of crimes, from petty stuff to huge conspiracies. He’s told me he owns judges, the cops, politicians.” I glanced at Madeline. “Additionally, because he hates his own kind so much, he’s been looking for a cure for ‘shifterism,’ as he puts it.”
Madeline glanced at me, then the others. “Jolene’s been incredibly brave to come forward. Ludolf controls shifters the way Roch used to control this island. Because of his connections to Roch’s old cronies, he’s been able to avoid any repercussions for his many, many crimes. Which is why we need your help.”
I nodded. “Ludolf just attacked Sam. He can’t have shifters being seen as equal, otherwise he loses his stronghold on us.” I blew out a breath. “Last week, I uncovered an animal sanctuary filled with dozens of shifters that had been trapped in animal form by Ludolf’s ‘cures.’ Many of them were the original activist leaders Ludolf sold out to the old King Roch. If we can find a way to undo Ludolf’s curses, which trapped them in animal form, they’re willing to testify against Ludolf, and we can finally put him away for good.” I looked at each of them. “But we need your help, otherwise his cronies will just let him off.”
13
Cat
The princess huffed. “I just don’t get everyone’s issues with shifters.” She lifted a palm and turned to me. “I grew up in human lands, not knowing I was magical until recently. All of this is new to me and seems completely ludicrous!”
I nodded. “Oh, it is.”
Prince Harry cleared his throat. “Excuse me if this is an ignorant question, but… how do you know that these animals are trapped shifters?”
Kenta stroked his goatee. “Good point. When Sam’s in snake form, he can’t speak to me.” He shrugged. “He just seems like a little green snake.”
Amelia gasped and turned to him. “Maybe Sam shifted up there on the podium and got stuck in snake form.”
Kenta paled. “He does have difficulty controlling it when he’s stressed. He tends to revert to his first form.”
Kenta and Amelia seemed to be lost in thought over Sam, but the rest of the group turned their eyes to me, waiting for my answer to the prince’s question.
I was getting more used to talking about what had happened to me, but for so many years, my friends Heidi and Will had been the only ones who knew. It still felt difficult to share.
I sucked on my lips for a moment, then turned to Prince Harry. “I mentioned that Ludolf Caterwaul sees being a shifter as sort of an illness that needs to be cured? Well, he’s been testing ‘cures’ on hundreds of shifters over the years… including me.”
Maple gasped.
The older woman, Annie, shook her head. She gave off a real grandmotherly vibe that I found comforting. “I’m sorry, dear. That sounds terrible.”
I nodded, a lump in my throat. “The ‘cure’ was really a curse. It stole my ability to shift and—” I debated a moment but decided to be totally open with them. “—and my ability to do magic.”
The prince cursed under his breath, and Madeline slid an arm around my shoulders.