by Mark Tufo
www.heathstallcup.com
www.goodreads.com/author/show/7132294.Heath_Stallcup
SHIFTERS
by
Jaime Johnesee
Second Edition
Copyright 2012 Jaime Johnesee
All rights reserved.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent. No part or parts of this publication may be copied, recorded or otherwise reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
COVER ART by Jeffrey Kosh
EDITING by Lisa Lane
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DOORS
TABLE OF CONTENT
TITLE
DEDICATION
QUOTE
BEGINNING
BIOGRAPHY
BACK COVER
Dedicated
To all those who are a little bit different.
"Greater love hath no one than he who lays down his life for his friend."
John 15:13
SHIFTERS
On my way to work, I'd had some time to think about life and what I want from mine. Where I ended up in my pondering was nothing like where I started. Instead of coming up with an epiphany I came to the conclusion that there are a few things in life that bother me, one of them being all that crap out there about shape shifters losing it during the full moon. Seriously, the moon doesn’t have any more pull over us than it does you humans. But I guess it’s like the old ‘vampires need an invitation to enter’ myth. Some things become what I like to call a Hollywood-fact. Mainly it’s those little things you see in all the monster movies.
I can tell you honestly that vampires are free to enter any dwelling, place of business, warehouse, or church that they choose. They are also just fine with garlic, crosses, and holy water. Mainly because vampirism isn’t some demonic curse, it’s a virus. So too is lycanthropy. The bite from a were-beast causing its victim to become one as well is the only thing Hollywood got right.
Unfortunately, it’s one that has caused many humans to fear us. What the myths don’t say is that the virus can only be transferred during an outbreak. Like most viruses, if the host isn’t infectious at the time, the infection is not transferred. Basically we have to be furry and feverish to bite and turn you.
The funniest thing of all, to me anyway, is that lycanthropy didn’t exist until scientists in the early 1900s got together and tried to cook up a serious bug for germ warfare purposes. Before that it was only a myth; wolves native to Hungary and Romania were blamed for anything bad that occurred. As time went on people felt stupid blaming animals and thus they created the wolf-man stigma and attached to villagers that were disliked. A fuzzy version of Salem’s witch hunts, if you will.
The current strain of were-wolf virus was born in 1910 and as the decades went on many other strains of were-animal were created. Although they were created in a lab, there is some sort of unaddressed magic to it all, something science just can't explain. Somehow shifters don't just change into their animal; the beast becomes part of the person's identity. Regardless of the magic, the science is simple. Our DNA is similar enough to every species of mammal for manipulation to occur. I know all this because I happen to become a black panther once in awhile. It's a bit like having a pet cat that lives inside me. Sometimes it comes when I call and sometimes it does what it wants.
Like other viruses, it flares up more when I am sick. Apparently my panther virus doesn’t much care for the common cold or flu. The doctors told me that viruses tend to attack and kill other lesser viruses and the shifter virus is the same. When I fall ill the shifter virus takes over and I turn. When I turn back, usually four hours and a raccoon or two later, I’m cured of the rhinovirus or influenza. I think that’s where the whole ‘turning into their animal heals a Were’ myth came from. It heals us of some illnesses and disease, but not gunshots.
Oh and the whole needing silver to kill us thing is also a myth. A regular bullet will end us as just easily as the next guy. Our pain thresholds are higher than humans so you might have to get a head or center mass shot to stop us, but hey, we’re killable.
As I said earlier, the biggest myth that annoys me is the one where we turn into mindless beasts when we change. When I’m a panther I am fully conscious and aware of what I’m doing. True, my animal urges sometimes overrule my common sense. While I normally don’t chase, kill, and consume rabbits, my panther can’t resist, and yes this has led to many an unfortunate furry tongued morning.
Mind you, I don’t go into a pet store and chase bunnies there. I have some land attached to my house. It’s not as much as I wish, but twenty-five acres is damn helpful when you turn into a giant Disneyesque panther.
I bring up Disney because I have no trouble talking in my kitty form. See, my voice box doesn’t disappear when I change so I can still use it afterwards. This makes me look like something out of a deranged children's show. The only thing I haven’t figured out yet is how to write as a panther, but with claws instead of fingers it gets hard to hold a pen, even though they're retractable.
Those unguis also make the change hurt like hellfire. If it wasn’t for the pain of popping tendons and rearranging bones, I might take some extra time and study how my fingers can turn into retractable claws. It does make for easier tree climbing, that’s for damn sure.
I must admit, rather embarrassingly, that I did get stuck in a tree my first time climbing in cat form. I had figured out how to get up the tree just fine, but had no clue how to get down without jumping and I'd climbed too far for that. Still new to shifting, I had to wait until the virus burned off to change back and climb down. Tree climbing as a naked woman is painful. I'll tell you, bark rubbing up against a certain area is not fun.
Being a were-panther does have some serious advantages, however. I can scent things most humans can’t. I have excellent night vision and I have what Peter Parker would call a spidey-sense. I can feel danger approaching due to my lifelong ability as an empath.
I can actually feel the emotions of others so strongly that not long after I was infected with the virus I had to go off and buy a twenty-five acre estate so I couldn’t feel all of my neighbors' joys and pains. I was an empath from birth, but the lycanthropy has really empowered my gift.
So now I work with the FBI in hunting down serial killers, my gift helps me read people. Luckily, I am not around every time they collar the bad guy. I don’t think I could shield myself from that much rage and hatred on a daily basis. The first time I went in and aided in interviewing a serial killer I was swamped in rage and hate. It rolled off the man like fog from a mountain. It took me six hours to recover. I even had my shields up full force during the encounter. Since that time I have learned better shielding techniques as well as the occasional use of teleconferencing. I can still feel what the guy is feeling over the phone or webcam, but it doesn’t overwhelm me.
I am now at the point where most of the time I can be in the same building as the perp and feed my questions through an earpiece to my friend and partner Quinn O’Reilly. He counts on me to help him, and I do. I can tell him exactly what he has to say or do to make the bad guy confess. We have two thousand and sixty two collars to our credit and are approaching our sixth year of partnership.
I love my job, and adore Quinn and his wife Kelly. I am proud to be Godmother to their daughter Angelique. She just turned one and is a perfect mix of her parents. What I don’t like about Quinn's family
is how his brother Chad has decided we are destined to be together. He is a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but he is so...so...so boring. He is straight as an arrow and he screams ‘missionary position’. Sorry, but I want a man with a hint of danger, someone who can handle me turning furry and maybe even, ideally, someone who turns furry himself.
That is exactly what I have always wanted: an equal, a partner. I needed someone I could be with in all ways and someone that could be with me in those same ways. Only problem with that little dream is the fact lycanthropes aren’t banding together and sharing info in any organized fashion. The closest thing to it is a bar downtown where lycans sing and dance in their human and furry forms. I have never been; it seems wrong somehow. Almost like they are selling out to make a quick buck. It feels too ‘good doggie’ for me. I just don’t think that we need to start kowtowing to the humans; I don't believe that's the way to earn their respect. But hey, that's just me. I know a lot of folks who would and do say otherwise.
I’ve met fifteen lycans since I’d been turned and they’ve all been wolves. I still hang out with three of them but I am sorely hoping to meet another panther. The one who’d bit me hadn't stuck around. I had been walking in the park and whammo all of the sudden there was a black panther on me. He bit me once, almost gently, and then ran off. At the hospital they told me the news about my not being human anymore.
I am not the one who labeled it all Lycanthrope/Vampire/Human, humans did. Apparently once you turn you're no longer human. I argue with that. Just because I have a virus and it comes along with some added bonus side effects that doesn’t make me less human, it just makes me a bit furry once in awhile. I mean sheesh it’s been almost three months since I’ve turned last and I have almost complete control over when I turn.
Done musing about my life, I decided I needed coffee. So I walked into Quinn’s and my office and grabbed my blue ‘Good Kitty’ mug. Quinn had given it to me for my birthday. It cracks me up and pisses off our boss. He isn’t hip on me flaunting my panther-ness. I took the mug into the ugly beige and brown break room and filled it to the brim with the most delicious coffee.
James Brady, a fellow feeb, loathed the government coffee we were supplied with and made sure to gift us all with delicious top shelf coffee. He kept a Ziploc bag of beans in the fridge and a grinder near the coffeemaker. This way even if he wasn’t here we could enjoy his beneficence. If he wasn’t married I think I might fall in love with him, just for the coffee alone.
Full mug in hand, I carefully walked past the dingy fake wood tables holding court with their brown plastic chairs and headed back to my office. I had just settled down at my desk when Quinn walked in.
“Hey did you hear the news?”
“You won the lottery and are leaving all this behind?” I swept my hands around to indicate our cramped little office.
“I wish. We got a tip on Grisly Adams.”
“Reliable?” I cocked my eyebrow and hoped for a yes.
“Very, it’s a priest.”
“Just cause he’s a priest doesn’t make him reliable. What’d he have to say?”
We’d been chasing a guy who cut up hookers into bite sized pieces and left every last little bit in seedy motel bathtubs. We’d nicknamed him Grisly Adams because the vics looked like they were mauled by a bear, except this bear didn’t stop when it's victims were dead, he kept tearing at them. The other reason we named him was that the only eyewitness to see our hump gave us a description of a ‘tall man with longish hair and a very full beard’. We used Grisly instead of Grizzly for obvious reasons.
Quinn pulled out his notebook “He said Grisly sought Confession from him. Described the same man our witness did and said he asked him to take his confession. Padre agreed and went back into the booth, Grisly entered the adjoining booth and opened the partition. There he told him ‘I’ve killed six women and I’m about to kill a seventh. She’s a cop and a nice lady but I have to kill her because she’s a wolf. Forgive me Father for taking their lives, but they was evil and needed to be smote.’ The priest tried to convince him to go to the police and turn himself in. Told him that lycans weren’t evil, just ill and then Grisly freaked. He told our guy ‘If they’re not evil then I’m not a soldier of God, just a murderer and I ain’t no murderer. He said I were a soldier of God and dammit that’s what I am. It ain’t wrong when God hisself tells you it’s right!’ then he got up and ran out.”
“Sounds like the priest has a good memory if he can recall all that. Also sounds like our guy. Intelligent but not well educated. Damn, I can’t believe he’s after lycans. Why the hell didn’t we know the vics were shifters? We need to go back over everything and have the coroner retest any tissue samples for the virus. We’ll also have to put something on the news.” I stood up and headed out of my office.
“No, you won’t.” A voice from behind me said. I turned and saw Chad standing there.
“Bullshit! I am not letting another woman get tore to hell because this freak thinks lycanthropes are evil. You’re a real bastard if you think otherwise, Chad.” I pushed past him and his left hand snaked around my arm and grabbed me, hard. He jerked me back a bit and forced me to look at him. I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t bare my teeth and hiss at him. It was hard and I deserve big points for holding back.
“I’m saying you don’t need the news. This guy is targeting hookers who’re lycans. He’s not going after straight lycans, why terrify good people and bring attention to his evils when we can get the word out on the street to the people who need to hear it? Most of the prostitutes don’t watch the news anyway. And Sam, I’m not that big of an asshole. It hurts that you’d even think that.” He looked at me and I saw that the hurt swimming in his deep brown eyes was real. Apparently I was the real asshole. I was glad I hadn’t hissed at him.
“I’m sorry, Chad, this hits close to home now and I might get a bit defensive because of it. Especially since the next vic is a cop. Shit!" I ran out to the bullpen and shouted "Everyone! Can I have everybody’s attention please?”
The entire office stopped and everyone looked at me, our boss, Gerald, even popped his head out of his office and listened as I spoke. “We need to call PDs in town as well as the neighboring towns and let them know one of their vice cops is a target for Grisly. We can narrow it down for them by letting them know he’s only going after lycans. He usually takes hookers and I’m guessing that’s where he picked his next vic. Somehow though, he learned she was a vice cop. Let’s get the word out and avoid the radios and press. Gerry, can we talk to you?” As soon as I finished speaking the floor became a beehive of activity. Chad called out what sections would take which police stations. Quinn and I made our way to Gerry’s office. I stopped looked at Chad and mouthed “Thank you.” He nodded and we both continued on.
“What’s up, besides what you just told us, and why the hell am I hearing it along with everyone else?”
“We just got a witness statement over the phone from a priest who took Grisly Adam’s confession. Grisly told him his next vic was a cop, told him he’d killed six women and that they were murdered because they were all lycans. He begged for absolution but the priest tried to get him to go to the cops so the man got up and left. Since our killer never got absolution it’s not technically confession and the priest is able to report it. Plus, Grisly’s not a member of the flock so he feels less of a need to keep it quiet. Lucky for us, and hopefully it’ll be lucky for this cop. Shit! I forgot to tell everyone she’s a wolf. Be right back.” I leapt out of the chair I had settled in and raced out to the floor. “Hey guys, she’s a wolf shifter. Sorry I didn’t mention it before, hopefully it’ll help narrow down targets.” I got a ton of thumbs ups and okay signs letting me know they had heard me. “Thanks guys.” I headed back into Gerry’s office.
“Damn it Samantha, you sure know how to stir things up.”
“Hey, no fair. I’m not the one dicing women into tiny pieces. I’m just one of the people trying to stop him.”
“I know, but ever since you came to my department you’ve really managed to stir up everyone. Especially Chad; that guy follows you around like a lost puppy. Sorry Quinn, I know he’s your brother, but it’s true.”
Quinn shrugged, “Can you blame him, Chief? She’s gorgeous and she likes hockey. What single guy wouldn’t go nuts over her? Hell, if I were single you’d have two O’Reilly’s drooling after her. Just don’t tell Kelly I said that.”
“Jesus guys! There’s a monster out there slicing women into lunchmeat and you guys are talking about my love life? What the hell?”