Sanctuary: A dark urban fantasy (Shifter Chronicles Book 1)

by Amade, Melle

  “And, Vasquez works for Murtagh,” Roman adds.

  “It’s complicated.” Zan’s voice is so dull it washes over me like bog water. She sounds hopeless.

  “What does he want?” I whisper. “Murtagh?”

  “The Van Arends head the largest Muiderkring,” says Zan. “The largest assembly of shifters. That’s what their Kortsrijk, the High Seat, rules.”

  “They have a lot of power,” says Roman. “Because, they hold the Kortsrijk of the Western Region.”

  “I don’t think Murtagh just wants our Kortsrijk so he can rule the Muiderkring,” says Aiden. “He wants vengeance. His fight is with my house.”

  “It’s possible,” Roman says.

  “Murtaghs came here from Ireland in 1839,” Zan explains. “The Order gave them authority to establish a shifter counsel in the west. Callum’s great, great grandfather, Declan Murtagh was given the title of Edelman and placed on the High Seat of the Western Region.”

  “The Kortsrijk?” I ask.

  Aiden nods. “The Murtaghs were poor Irish dirt farmers,” Aiden says. “They thought the title would give them money, power and prestige. But, that’s not how it is. It was money, power and prestige that bought the Van Arends the title centuries ago.”

  “Declan found himself living in the same poverty in Topanga that he’d lived in when he was in Ireland,” says Zan. “He couldn’t handle it. He’d fought in the war of 1812 and had severe post-traumatic stress syndrome. No one knew this. It’s not just that his emotional balance was off, he wasn’t fit to live in society. He should have been locked up.”

  “He was a shifter that had the taste of blood,” says Roman.

  “Like Vasquez,” I say.

  “From being in war,” says Roman.

  “What did he do?” Morbid curiosity gets the better of me.

  “He killed and ate humans,” says Zan, “to assert his authority over them. By the time the Order found out what was going on up here, Declan had permanently morphed into a human-sized man with a raven head and no wings who was holding his own family hostage.”

  I shudder.

  “It’s the shame of the Ravensgaard,” says Roman.

  “That’s how the Van Arend’s got here?” I ask.

  “My grandfather came in 1870,” says Aiden. “Declan was executed. Most of the Murtagh clan left Topanga. They went back to Ireland or up the coast, hoping to forget. Eventually there was just one Murtagh family left in Topanga.”

  “Callum’s,” I say.

  “Exactly,” says Aiden. “They remained loyal to the Kortsrijk and assumed the position of Ridder. The rest that stayed on the west coast technically fall under us, but they stay pretty far away. They still practice the ways of the Ravensgaard and they hope they don’t fall prey to the Murtagh madness.”

  “Do you think Callum’s uncle has it?” My stomach tightens.

  Aiden and Zan exchange a look, but it’s Roman who answers. “We don’t know.”

  “I still don’t understand why you can’t just arrest him!” My feet pace me in circles around the small space.

  “Because, there are more Ravensgaard in this region then there are eagles and all the other clans put together,” says Aiden.

  I look at the three people I thought had power. The people I thought could solve the problem, but they’ve failed. “You’re more afraid than I am,” I say.

  “What did you expect?” asks Zan. “We’d all shift into super animals and attack Vasquez? Well, I’ve got news for you,” she tosses her red curls at Roman, “he’s a frog.”

  “Hey!” He retorts. “What the Chihuahua is saying is; this isn’t Hollywood. It’s Topanga.”

  “There is nothing you can do?” I ask.

  “We’re trying to figure it out,” Zan says.

  “Murtagh has his sights on Aiden’s father,” I say. “We’re pretty sure Vasquez knows you know about us. So, he’s going to look for evidence to pin that on the Heir.”

  “That’s why he has Callum glued to your side,” says Aiden.

  “But, why would he work for his uncle?” I ask.

  “He’s a Ravensgaard.” Aiden shrugs like it’s obvious. “They’re loyal first to their clan leader.”

  “If Callum’s with you every day, all day long, he’ll find evidence,” says Roman.

  I stare at Zan and the futility in her eyes, the way her back curves forward, the way her hands worry each other. It’s so clear. They can’t do anything to stop this.

  “I’ll put more pressure on my family to leave now,” I say.

  “It won’t matter,” says Roman.

  “But, I thought -”

  “We thought wrong!” Zan exclaims. I whip around like I got hit in the back of the head. Her curls lean towards me. “Murtagh wants Lord Van Arend’s seat and ousting the Heir is the way to get that. You are the proof that the Heir broke the law. That he shifted in front of a human. He will be removed as Heir and Lord Van Arend will be shown as incompetent.”

  “Murtagh isn’t going to just let you go,” says Roman. “He will hound you until he has proof.”

  “Then he’ll kill me?” I ask.

  Roman and Zan both look at Aiden who is staring at his feet, arms folded over his chest. He brings his chin up slowly until I am looking at the storm raging in his eyes. “No, Shae,” he says. “The punishment for showing a human your shifter self is…” his voice fades as he turns away.

  “The shifter has to kill the human,” says Zan.

  Blood drains from my face as a hail storm shatters against my skull and ice permeates my skin. “Why… why did you shift?” I throw the words at Aiden.

  “Vasquez would have killed you,” Aiden says. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  My body clenches in a freezing ache and my blood cracks like ice from the top of my head and down to my fingertips. My arms fly forward and shove Aiden in the chest.

  “You’ve killed me anyway.” I choke the words out.

  “Shae!” Roman yanks me off Aiden. I rip myself out of his arms and turn on Roman, my hands finding his neck. His eyes bulge out as the ice presses down my arms and through my fingertips. A high pitched scream pierces my ear.

  “Stoooooopp!” Zan’s voice cracks the ice and breaks my fingers off of Roman’s neck.

  Aiden pulls me back. “Breathe!”

  Breathe in the flowers, blow out the candles. I whirl away, face the wall.

  What have I done? Mom… I can’t be like her. I can’t be.

  My lungs burn as warm air flows through the frozen waste land of my insides. The cracked ice starts to melt, but my head spins. I grapple for the rough-hewn walls as splinters pierce my flesh; they draw my attention with sharp spasms of pain. I exhale as the ice in my blood flows away.

  Breathe in the flowers, blow out the candles.

  “Did you see?” Aiden’s voice is low.

  “See what?” Roman’s voice is hesitant.

  “Her eyes.” There’s excitement in Aiden’s voice. My breath bounces off the wall, warming my face and hands.

  “I saw, but, I’m not sure.” Roman shakes his head.

  “They turned ice blue,” Aiden says.

  I raise my head and rest it against the back of my hands.

  “They’re brown,” Zan points out.

  “Her eyes shifted,” Aiden insists.

  “You’re crazy. You didn’t see anything.” There’s not a shred of doubt in Zan’s voice. I twist around to look at them and they’re in a half circle around me. My legs puddle in weakness and I lean against the wall for support.

  “You saw it, Roman?” Aiden asks.

  Roman looks confused.

  “You saw what you want to see.” Worry edges Zan’s voice.

  “Not true.” Aiden is firm, his tone infectious. There’s a faint ring of hope in it.

  “What is it, Aiden?” I ask.

  “Don’t listen to him.” Zan glares. “He’s delusional. You can’t be a shifter, Shae. If you were, you would know. Y
our family would be in the books. We trace every shifter family bloodline. Shifters don’t just slip through the cracks.”

  “What if Shae’s did?” asks Aiden.

  “It’s impossible,” says Zan. “My parents handle the database and keep the records.”

  “He might be right,” Roman is curious.

  “She has amazing eye sight, great hearing and do you remember that rage? Maybe it wasn’t just her -” Aiden says.

  “I could test her blood,” says Roman.

  “Not you, too.” Zan gets more annoyed by the minute.

  “What is it?” I have to know.

  Aiden grabs my hands and pulls me to him. “You’ve had difficulty controlling your anger?” he asks. I nod, but I’m embarrassed. It’s the last thing I want to talk about.

  “More than just that time at the party in June?” asks Roman. “That wasn’t just a one off?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve been struggling for six months. My room’s a disaster.”

  “We all did.” His voice drops a note. “Before we learned how to shift.”

  “The Bloedhart made the rages go away,” Roman explains.

  “The shifter ceremony,” I say.

  “Stop it.” Zan pushes forward, grabs my arm and twists it as she stretches it out in front of them.

  “Owwww!” I protest and lean forward to mitigate the damage.

  “Inside left elbow.” Zan points at the offensive part of my body. We all stare at the pale smooth skin. Zan lays out her arm next to mine so her hand is up by my shoulder but the bones of our elbows touch. I already know what I’ll see, but I look anyhow.

  Her birthmark.

  We determined our fifth grade year the delicate blue lines making a curving, radiated triangle were a sign from the tooth faerie that Zan would never have cavities.

  “Let me guess, it’s not a mark from the tooth faerie,” I say.

  “Show her your marks.” Zan ignores my comment.

  Roman and Aiden stretch out their arms and display the inside of their left elbows.

  I never thought to check. Why would I think to check? Why would I wonder if they had marks like Zan’s? It would have been crazy to even think.

  But, they do.

  Faint blue lines trace triangles on their inner elbows. The marks are by the bone and so small you’d never notice, not unless you were specifically looking for them. They’re not like Zan’s. Aiden’s triangle curves a bit like hers but it’s fatter and one side is round. It looks a bit like a teardrop or, a talon.

  I look at Roman’s dark skin. It’s almost impossible to see his mark, but now I see it. His triangle is strong and solid, an isosceles. My finger reaches out to trace his triangle.

  “She doesn’t have one.” Zan motions at my arm.

  “Are they birthmarks or tattoos?” I ask.

  “Birthmarks. We’re born with the mark of our clan.”

  “Shae isn’t a shifter, and to say anything else is stupid.” Zan’s tone cuts me to the bone. I whip my arm back as everyone else’s fall away.

  “What if I am?” I’m belligerent. “What if I don’t have the mark?”

  “You can’t be,” Zan insists.

  “But, if I was, they couldn’t hunt me for knowing about the shifter world,” I say.

  “Every shifter has a mark.” Roman’s brows furrow.

  “What if I just don’t have one?” I ask.

  “It would be…” Aiden’s voice is slow and cautious, “…highly unusual.”

  “Unheard of,” says Zan.

  “But, how do you explain how she heard Vasquez on the other side of the canyon?” Aiden asks.

  “The canyon can carry sound,” Zan shrugs.

  “Only shifters hear it.” Roman looks at me.

  “And, we’ve always known about her eyesight.” Aiden points out.

  “Humans can have good eyesight,” Zan says.

  “Add what I just saw,” nods Aiden. “Her eyes turned ice blue. I’m sure of it.”

  “I - I -” Zan stammers. And, I realize she’s at a loss. My heart starts to race.

  I’m caught up in Aiden’s words with a sense of euphoria. I might be like them! We might be able to make all this go away. If I’m a shifter, then it won’t matter that Aiden shifted in front of me. I’ll be safe, he’ll be able to retain his family seat, and… and I’ll be able to be in a group with my friends again. This awful rage will go away.

  “And there’s this.” I say and pull the tile that’s been living in my pocket out. “It comes from my house and belongs in the mosaic on Aiden’s wall.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Zan says.

  “We inherited our house,” I say.

  “Impossible,” Zan says. “We would know.”

  “From a distant relative,” I say. “There’s a chance.”

  Roman takes the tile out of my hand and turns it over. “It’s pretty compelling evidence.” Roman glances sideways at Zan.

  “Do it.” Aiden nods at Roman. Zan rolls her eyes.

  “Give me some of your blood.” Roman scrambles for something out of his chemistry lab. He pulls out a plastic wrapped needle and rips off the sanitized cover.

  “What?” I step back. “How much do you need?”

  “Just a drop. I’m working on an experiment to compare shifter and human blood.” He pulls his goggles up from his neck and onto his forehead.

  “It’s not perfected, yet. But, it should tell us something,” Roman says.

  Zan shakes her head back and forth. She wants to shut the experiment down.

  “Take it,” I say.

  The needle pierces my finger and he squeezes a drop of dark red blood onto a microscope slide. In minutes he’s at his chemistry lab. We huddle around as he carefully squeezes two different drops of chemicals onto the slide and then slips it under the microscope. He puts the goggles over his eyes and looks through them into the microscope.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask, my fingernails clicking together as Roman twists the focal knob.

  “Shifter blood has a higher red blood count.” He’s talking to himself. “And the blood coagulates faster so we can heal quicker. It allows us to live longer and survive better. So, I’ve set up a system to test blood against that.”

  I nod as if I understand, but no one even notices. We all stare at Roman, who stares into his microscope.

  “Can you see anything?” I ask.

  Silence.

  “Roman?” I ask.

  “Wait.” Zan elbows me.

  Waiting is not my forte, but I try.

  Roman looks up with an expression you don’t see very often. He’s perplexed.

  “Her blood -” he starts, but his voice fades as he turns back to the microscope.

  “Yes?” Hope beats in my chest.

  He looks up again and shrugs. “It’s not human.”

  My breath catches in my throat. I’m not human! “So…” I smile. “I’m like -”

  Roman raises his hand, shaking his head. “I don’t know that it’s shifter blood either, Shae,” he mutters. “The blood count isn’t the same as mine, Aiden’s or Zan’s.

  “Maybe I’m not a frog, bird or coyote,” I say.

  Roman shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what you are. If you were a shifter, you would have the same blood count as us. Ours is all the same.”

  I look up at Aiden. He’s confused, but hopeful. “We need to take her to Zaragoza.”

  “You can’t just take her to Zaragoza!” Zan exclaims.

  “We have to.” Aiden turns on her, every ounce of earnestness rings through his body. “If she is a shifter it is my responsibility to bring her into the fold.”

  “Zaragoza is way too dangerous to even approach, much less confide in,” Zan says. “No way.”

  “Maybe it should be up to Shae,” Roman murmurs.

  “I want to try it,” I say.

  “You don’t know what you’re getting into.” Zan grabs my arms, metal wires run through her
voice. The excitement vanishes from Aiden’s face. “Are you willing to risk your life on this? Because that’s what it’ll take. If you do the initiation and you’re not a shifter, you’ll die.”

  I swallow. Hard.

  Zan’s eyes glow inches from mine. She’s been my best friend my whole life and her fear is like an electric wire singeing both of us.

  “Why does everything with you guys end in death?” I disconnect.

  A growl escapes Zan as she steps back.

  I look helplessly at my friends. I don’t know what to do. I want to be like them, but I don’t want to die.

  “I need to go home,” I say. All I want right now is to pretend my life is normal again.

  16

  “Ah-raw! Ah-raw! Ah-raw!”

  I sit bolt upright. The morning sun pries its way through the trees.

  “Ah-raw!”

  It sounds like a bird in its death throes. But, it’s not.

  It takes me a moment to figure out what it is. When I do, I’m out of bed and running through the house to the front yard.

  “Henry!” I cry as I burst out the front door.

  There is blood everywhere.

  He stands in his knight and dragon pajamas, snot drips from his nose. He sucks at the air. I grab him and pull him to me, turning his face into my stomach to stop him looking at the front yard.

  “Mom?” I call. “Dad?”

  My gaze flies around the yard, over the bloody puddles. I want to push Henry in the house and find my parents.

  No.

  Maybe I don’t want to find them. I fight back my own scream.

  Mrs. Steinberger.

  Were my parents next on Murtagh’s list?

  “Mom! Dad!” I scream louder as Henry shudders against me. Hysteria rises from my guts, choking out my breath. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

  “Dad!”

  Silence.

  “Mom!”

  Nothing.

  My jaw is moving up and down, gasping for air. A wooden gate groans, then snaps on its hinges. I clutch Henry tighter. Mom comes out of the chicken coop clutching the .24-gauge rifle, the one she keeps “in case of rattlesnakes.”

  “It’s the chickens,” she says.

  A gasp of relief escapes me and my lungs work again. A severed chicken’s head lies at my feet. Feathers, heads and carcasses are strewn everywhere.