Autumn's Blood: The Spirit Shifters, Book One

by Marissa Farrar

  He opened his mouth and the words wouldn’t come out. He couldn’t lie to her. “It’s classified,” he finished lamely.

  She rolled her eyes. “What a surprise. I guess I’ll have to do my time before anyone will trust me enough to tell me what’s really going on.”

  “What do you think is going on?”

  “Honestly?” She looked to him for confirmation and he nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the samples come from some kind of alien species.”

  The thought of them being aliens made him laugh again.

  She frowned, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “What’s so funny? You don’t think there’s a chance of another life form existing in the universe somewhere?”

  He grew serious. “Are you asking me if I believe in the paranormal, Doctor Anderson?”

  “My name is Autumn, and, yes, I guess I am.”

  “Then, the answer is absolutely. But surely, as a scientist, the paranormal is the last thing you should believe in.”

  “I believe that almost everything we now put down to science was once considered to be paranormal.”

  He studied her face. Smart, beautiful, and open-minded. There must be something wrong with this woman. Across the foot of space separating them, the warmth of her skin radiated toward him and he could smell her shampoo and the faint residue of perfume she must have applied that morning.

  She must have caught the way he was looking at her, because she slowed to a stop. “What?”

  In his head, his wolf growled a warning.

  He couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in a woman, especially not this one. He forced himself to step away, to straighten his shoulders, and harden his jaw. “A scientist who believes in fairy tales doesn’t seem like a very good scientist to me.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise at his comment. “Is that right? And that’s coming from a guy who uses his muscles as his career.”

  “Is that what you think? I’m no more than Dumas’ muscle?”

  “Aren’t you essentially a pumped-up security guard?”

  He held her gaze and her cheeks flushed deeper. “I am so much more than that.”

  He turned and walked away, leaving her standing on the street. He felt her eyes bore into his back as he left.

  AUTUMN WATCHED THE infuriating man storm down the street. What the hell had gotten into him? One minute they’d been having a perfectly normal, interesting conversation, and the next he’d almost turned on her. And the way he looked at her, as though pinning her with his eyes. Had she ever come across someone who was so damn intense?

  She regretted what she’d said about him being a piece of muscle. Perhaps she’d reacted unfairly, but he’d touched on a nerve. She’s spent her whole career being judged, first for her appearance and secondly for her youth. Men in the late stages of their careers regarded her with both resentment and disbelief as she managed to achieve breakthroughs in their field that had left them stumped. She wished she understood the reason for being so good at what she did, but she was simply given a problem and could see the answer. There were plenty of times in her life where she’d wished she didn’t have her talent, or perhaps that she was older and the opposite sex. When she’d been at school, she’d been skipped ahead several years, so all of her peers either looked down their noses at her, or else thought she was a little freak. Plus, she’d blossomed into her looks. As a teenager, she’d been tall and skinny with a halo of frizz-filled hair. Now, she’d learned how to appreciate and dress for her slender, tall frame, and had discovered the miracle of frizz-fighting hair products. But despite all this, she had her job hanging over her and there weren’t many men who found science sexy.

  Yet now, Blake Wolfcollar had managed to imprint himself upon both her skin and mind. How could she want to hit someone while simultaneously wondering what he looked like with his shirt off?

  She exhaled a slow, measured breath. What she needed now was a long, hot bath so she could turn her latest project over in her head, and that didn’t mean including Blake in her thoughts. She was being paid a large sum of money to do a job, and she needed to concentrate on that.

  A sudden urge to speak to her father washed over her, despite the two of them having a bit of an awkward relationship. He felt responsible for her mother’s death, though there was no way he could have either predicted or prevented it.

  Anytime she had a puzzle involving science, she wanted to run it by him. Not being able to talk about this particular project was going to be beyond frustrating. Plus, she wondered if they couldn’t talk about her work, would they have anything to talk about at all.

  She sighed. She wished she was able to talk to him about normal things fathers were interested in—baseball results, a latest DIY project, even politics. But he was so involved in whichever project he was currently working on he’d often forget to even eat, never mind take any interest in the world happening outside of the lab, including his own daughter.

  Still, weeks had passed since she’d last seen him, and the sudden spat with Blake Wolfcollar had left her with a deep-seated need to be around the familiar.

  She lifted a hand to flag down a cab.

  AUTUMN PAID THE driver and climbed from the cab. Paint peeled from the front door of what had once been an immaculate house. Thick grime coated the outsides of the windows and weeds sprouted between the steps leading up to the residence.

  Professor John Anderson still lived in the family home where Autumn had grown up. The house was a huge, five-bedroom townhouse on the North Side, with several living rooms and a huge kitchen. Her father barely used much of the house, keeping the rooms shut off, with dust cloths covering the furniture. In the unused rooms, he kept the blinds closed, both to keep the sun off precious furnishings and pictures, and also to keep prying eyes out. The result was a house that looked like no one had lived in it for years. The only rooms Professor Anderson kept in use were the kitchen, the bedroom he’d shared with his wife until her death, the en-suite bathroom, and the basement.

  The basement was where her father spent most of his time. Years ago, when Autumn had been small, he’d had the space converted into his own private laboratory.

  Autumn rang the bell, only to discover no sound emitted from the device. She rapped on the front door with her knuckles and waited. No movement came from inside. She reached into her purse. She still had a key, but didn’t like to use it. This place didn’t feel like her home anymore. She knew he’d be in. He never went anywhere except for the few occasions he was called outside of the city for work. Now that he’d retired, those occasions had grown less and less.

  Giving up waiting, Autumn let herself in. A pile of mail teetered and spilled across the hall as she pushed open the front door. She bent and scooped most of the letters up, dumping them on the hall console.

  “Dad?”

  No response.

  Autumn sighed. She knew where he’d be.

  Down the hall, a door led beneath the stairs.

  She descended the brightly lit stairs into the cellar to find her father at a workbench, bent over his equipment. He hadn’t even noticed her arrival, and she took a moment to study him, checking if anything about him had changed in the past few weeks, if there was anything she should be more concerned about than usual.

  She had gotten her long limbs and height from him, though he wore it in a gangly way, so he often didn’t appear to have control of his own body. She’d also inherited his blonde curls, though they’d long since fled her father’s pate. His hairline was less receding and more receded, leaving a pink, naked scalp.

  Autumn audibly cleared her throat.

  He looked up from his work, peering at her from over his safety goggles, a pipette of clear fluid held poised in one hand. “Autumn? What are you doing here?”

  She risked a smile. “Hi, Dad. I got a new job.”

  “Another one? What was wrong with the last one?”

  “Nothing was wrong with it, Dad. The contract ended.”


  He looked back down at his work and dropped fluid from the pipette onto a slide. “Oh, right.”

  “So don’t you want to know what the new job is?”

  He shrugged and leaned over the microscope to inspect what he was working on. “Sure.”

  “I’m working for the government. I can’t say much more than that, but it could be interesting. Really interesting.”

  She waited for a response, but none came. Instead, he switched the slides beneath the scope.

  “Dad?” she prompted.

  “I’m sorry, was there something you actually wanted, Autumn?”

  “Um, no. Just to visit with my dad.”

  “Well, you can see I’m kind of busy here, sweetheart. So if you don’t mind ...?”

  “Oh, right.”

  Hot tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let him see them. Why did she think things would be any different? He was always busy. Even when she’d been a child and had lost her mother, he’d been busy. In fact, after her mom had died, he’d thrown himself into his work rather than face up to the fact that she’d gone. He seemed to have forgotten that his daughter hadn’t died at the same time as his wife.

  Autumn turned and ran from the house, the back of her knuckles pressed against her mouth. She ran out onto the street and straight into someone. The person caught her by the wrists, but she shook them off.

  “Hey, it’s okay!” A male voice spoke. “You ran into me.”

  She put out a hand and pushed past the man, barely glancing at him. “I’m sorry ...”

  “Wait up a minute.” Footsteps ran along beside her, and she picked up her pace. “Hey, wait!”

  She spun around. “Why should I?” Her temper flared, taking her hurt out on him rather than the person actually responsible for her mood.

  “You seem upset.”

  “Why should you care?” she shot back.

  “I don’t like to see someone upset.”

  “You’re a stranger.”

  His voice softened. “Yeah, and I’m guessing it isn’t a stranger who’s made you cry.”

  “I’m not crying—” But, with dismay, she realized her cheeks were damp. The anger burned out of her and her shoulders slumped. For the first time, she took in the sight of the concerned stranger. A man with long dark hair tied back, over six feet tall, broad shoulders, high cheekbones and dark eyes. A flutter of recognition appeared inside her, but she couldn’t place it.

  “Man trouble?” he asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

  She couldn’t help smile back, and sniffed. “I guess you could say that.”

  “Well, I’d also say he’s a fool.”

  She sniffed again. “You got that right.”

  The man held out his hand. “I’m Chogan Pallaton. I just got into town.”

  She reached out and shook it. His skin was warm. Too warm. “I’m Autumn. Please don’t think I’m being rude, but I’m not going to offer to show you around if that’s what you’re after. I’ve had a really long day ...”

  He held up both hands in defense, his dark eyes lighting with amusement. “Hey, I wouldn’t dream of imposing. Another time, perhaps?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced at him, suddenly shy. “Perhaps.”

  He gave her a nod and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He ducked his head as he walked away, then threw a glance back over his shoulder, smiling again as Autumn stood watching him.

  Why did she feel like she knew him from somewhere?

  Chapter Eight

  AUTUMN OPENED THE front door of her apartment and paused. Something was wrong. The usual blare of music and smell of cooking didn’t greet her. The apartment was in silence. Had Mia gone out without letting her know she wouldn’t be home? That wasn’t like her. They normally looked out for one another. But no, she realized, the place wasn’t in total silence. A muffled sobbing came from deeper within the building.

  Alarm spiked through her. “Mia?”

  She rushed to her roommate’s bedroom to find the door closed. The crying was definitely coming from inside the room. She lifted her hand and gently knocked before cracking open the door. The cries grew louder. Mia had the drapes drawn and the light was off, so Autumn barely made out her small form curled in on itself on her bed.

  “Mia? What’s wrong?” Her own problems forgotten, she rushed to her friend’s side. She took a seat on the edge of the bed, one hand rubbing Mia’s back.

  Mia lifted her head from her pillow. In the light from the hallway, Autumn noted her face was puffy from crying, her eyes red-rimmed, and her skin blotchy. “They cut the budget for Missing Lives for next year.”

  “What? Who has?”

  “The government. If I don’t find the money, I’ll have to shut down.”

  “That’s crazy. How much did they cut it by?”

  “Everything. They’ve pulled the whole lot.”

  “Are they able to do that?”

  “They’re the government; they can do whatever they want.” She buried her head in her hands. “I’m going to have to let Tina go, and I’ve just taken on a new case. I can’t believe I’m going to let the parents down like this, with everything they’re already going through.”

  “I’m sure they’ll understand.” She paused. “Who is the new case?”

  “A boy—Toby West. He’s been missing for nine days now.”

  Autumn reached out and covered Mia’s hand with her own, squeezed it, hoping to offer some kind of comfort. She understood Mia’s reason for tending to take on similar cases—teenage boys, often suspected runaways with troubled backgrounds.

  “Listen to me. I have money sitting in my account, not doing anything. I’ll make a good-sized donation, enough to keep you going for a few months. Perhaps then you’ll be able to figure out something else.” She smiled. “Maybe we could organize a fundraiser event. There’s bound to be other people who know what an amazing job you do and who will be willing to help.”

  Mia lifted her eyes. It pained Autumn to see their dark pools swimming in tears. “I can’t expect you to do that.”

  “Mia, honey, you’re my best friend and the closest thing I have to real family. I know how important Missing Lives is to you. It’s your whole life and you’ve helped so many people. I’m not going to let you go under when I have money that can help you. I mean, what else am I going to do with it?”

  What she said was true. She never took a vacation, rarely dated. Her wardrobe consisted of smart but inexpensive suits for work, and then she lived in jeans and sneakers on the weekend. She didn’t even have a gym membership, preferring to run the streets of the city plugged into her iPod instead.

  “Really? Are you sure?” Mia’s chin wobbled and fresh tears sprang to her eyes.

  “I wouldn’t say something if I didn’t mean it.” Autumn laughed. “Now stop crying or you’re going to make me cry too.”

  Mia sat up and threw her arms around Autumn’s neck in a tight squeeze. “Oh my God. Thank you so much. You’re the best friend a girl could have. And I’ll pay you back, I swear I will.”

  “I don’t want paying back. It’s a donation, not a loan.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, back in the facility, Autumn had seen no sign of Blake, and she found her heart beat too hard in her chest at the prospect of bumping into him again. She wondered how he’d act when their paths did eventually cross, as they surely would. Would he be cool with her or ignore her completely? Why was this even bothering her so much?

  She sat down at the equipment, running back over the slides she’d been working on. Even though much of the work had already been completed by her predecessors, she’d decided to start from scratch by replicating the original mutation. She couldn’t trust that things had been done right the first time.

  A number of cups of coffee and several hours later, she’d achieved the original mutation, a single base pair amino acid substitution at position five of the polypeptide chain. But the expression of the gene mutation into whole chromosomes replicating simpl
y wasn’t happening.

  It’s early days yet, she reminded herself. Far too soon to start panicking.

  The ping of the elevator doors opening caught her attention. She turned to see Peter Haverly emerge from the elevator. He donned a white coat and headed over to her. “Hey, how’s our newest recruit doing?”

  Autumn pulled off her protective glasses and dropped them on the counter. “Slow, though I hope I’m making some progress.”

  He offered her a smile. “I’m sure you are. Any chance you can run me through what you’ve done so far?”

  His interest confused her. Surely they couldn’t expect her to have achieved something already? This could take weeks, if not months. If, in fact, she managed to do what they wanted at all. But what could she say? While he might not be her direct boss, he was certainly her superior.

  She picked her glasses back up and slid them onto her face. “Sure. I was just about to apply a catalyst to the recombinant DNA. I’m hoping we might see some of the changes we’ve seen in the original samples.”

  He pulled up a stool beside her. “Sounds good.”

  Autumn slid a new slide containing the sample she’d created beneath the electron microscope and locked it into place. Immediately, the strands appeared on the computer screen—like fat X-shaped sausages—clearly made out on the powerful equipment. She took out a pipette and added a drop of clear fluid chemical. She reached in with another, much thinner slide to drop on top of the DNA in order to increase the focus. As she reached in, she pressed too hard and the small sliver of glass snapped, one piece embedding into the fleshy pad of her finger.

  “Shit!” She pulled her hand back, careful not to disturb the already primed slide, but before she got clear, a single drop of blood fell onto the sample.

  “Oh crap,” she swore. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’ll need to start again.”

  Damn it. Why did things like that happen when someone else was watching? She reached out to remove the ruined slide, but a hand caught her by the arm, Haverly’s grip hard, stronger than she’d given him credit for.