Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1

by Jaime Johnesee

  Great.

  Nothing better than getting left behind by your partner. I figured I’d work on the paperwork myself until I got a call to do otherwise.

  As I typed up the report, I fumed over some crap an anti-shifter group was pulling. They were trying to out us to the world at large, but, as my friend Bob says, we weren’t ready to come out from under the bed.

  He’s a great guy, for a zombie. No, zombies aren’t just people chompers. Some of ’em are really good people whose family just weren’t ready to say goodbye. Though zombies get a lot of shit, too, we shifters are portrayed as monsters just as much as they are.

  I can't stand how we've been painted as these constant half-human half-animal looking monsters when we shift. That's not how it works.

  We turn into the animal itself, not some gory hybrid. Though there are some shifters who can shift partially, most all of us are forced by our very biology to change almost fully. This means our bones break, ligaments rip, and muscles tear. Then everything re-knits itself into proper alignment for the animal. I am a hundred and forty pounds in human form and I'm a tiny one hundred and forty pound jaguar.

  Maybe one forty-five when you include the fur, but still not the big beastie people expect. We don't just grow mass out of nowhere. The virus shifts our DNA; it doesn't pull mass from thin air and graft it to us.

  Though I will admit there is a bit of magic to it, especially when you consider we pick up a sort of animal spirit guide after we first shift. It’s like having a fuzzy mentor in your head. If that’s not enough magic for you, well, there’s always the fact we can shift at all.

  I'm not a doctor or a veterinarian, so I don't know exactly how it all works on a cellular level, I just know it hurts like hellfire. I did, however, go back to school and nab a degree in zoology so I could better understand the animal part of myself.

  It might not make sense to you, but I wanted to know everything there was to know about animals, all animals, to better prepare myself for whatever I might meet in the field as an agent of the FBI.

  My phone rang, startling me from my reverie. It was Gerry.

  “Hey, Sam. I have trace running the evidence from the scene now. They don’t expect to find much, but they’re on it. You can pick up the report from Grace later.”

  “Thanks, boss.”

  “No problem. Just don’t forget to turn in that report before you leave tonight.”

  I sighed; I hate writing reports. Worst part of the job. “Of course, boss. See ya, Gerry.”

  The click told me he’d hung up and I smiled as I replaced the receiver and returned to my thoughts while I typed.

  I hate the shifters who cause trouble.

  Yes, there are other shifters out there and they're not all good people; unfortunately, I run into them occasionally. Enough that I knew I had to find a way to understand them better. Figuring out how other mammals act and react to things helps me to understand what a shifter perp's behavior, and their animal, might cause them to do.

  That’s why after I earned my Masters in Zoology I spent some time learning from a prominent animal behaviorist. I picked up a lot of information that helps me better understand both human and animal behavior.

  The phone rang again. This time it was Josh.

  “Sam, we have a credible witness. Quinn says you should meet us at The Diner pronto.”

  “Seriously on-the-stand credible?”

  “Yes. We’ll see you there.”

  I just hoped this fellow was believable (I mean the witness, not Officer Hahn); the only other witness we had was a drug-addled homeless man who insisted that the aliens dropped our perp off to cleanse the planet.

  These sorts of stories don't exactly lend credibility in front of juries. Not to mention the alien hunt was coming up with bupkis. We needed someone of unimpeachable character. Someone who could stand up in a court and folks would know they would never lie. Someone who had actually seen something real and not intergalactic.

  Chapter 2

  AS I WALKED INTO SAID DINER, aka the best diner in all the world, I was greeted by Genie, my favorite waitress in all the world.

  "Sam! How are you, sweetheart?"

  "I'm good. How're you, doll?"

  "Still going strong! Your fellas are over there." The diner was shaped like an L and she pointed, with the coffee pot in her hand, to the back corner of the long side.

  Genie was ninety years young and feisty as a badger. She is the oldest waitress I'd ever seen, and though it took her a bit longer to get the food out to the tables it was totally worth the wait just to have a chance to chat with her. She had such great stories about growing up around here.

  She also told a few tall tales that everyone knew weren't quite real, but they were so entertaining nobody dared say a word for fear she wouldn't tell another. I learned a lot about the area from Genie. I'd grown up farther south and moved here when I started college, so I learned most of the history of my new city from Genie. I also learned where the best spots were to eat.

  Genie never fails to find the gems.

  Walking back toward the table she’d pointed at, I could see Quinn waving his arms around like the goober he could sometimes be. On the way, I caught sight of a man to my right and I stopped in my tracks. I wasn't of the love-at-first-sight ilk, but this guy had me gazing and gaping like he was James Dean back from the dead. Our eyes locked and my breath caught in my throat. There was something about him that was different from other men.

  My heartbeat and breathing quickened and I willed myself to look away before I became like one of those clichéd girls in a cheap romance novel. What in the bloody hell was wrong with me? I'd not reacted to a member of the opposite sex like that since my high school days.

  I wanted to keep moving, but, like a moron, I stared back at the man who had caught my attention. I think it was his eyes that were the most unsettling for me. A blend of gold and green, they reminded me of a cat's eyes. Then I realized my jaguar was grunting and leaping. It hit me that what I felt for this man might be more than simple chemistry. That immediate attraction I felt might mean he was a werecat of some sort.

  I grinned.

  Well, to those around us it looked like I smiled, but what I was actually doing was flehmening. I pulled his scent across the roof of my mouth to better understand him through his pheromones. He was a cat shifter, but more than that, he was a jaguar, like me. I gasped and locked eyes with him.

  "Hiya, Sam. It's awful nice to see you again."

  "D-do I know you?" Yeah, I know. I’m super cool under pressure. Don’t hate.

  "How's your hand doing?” He pointed at the hand bitten by the jaguar who turned me.

  "What?" I pulled my hand closer in to me.

  "That's the hand I bit; sorry if I was too rough about it."

  "You? Why?" My world heaved and my stomach followed suit.

  "You needed the change. I planned to come back and help you through the first few shifts."

  Still feeling a tad gobsmacked, I blurted, "Yeah, well, you didn't. You bit me and left me to figure it out all on my own. You forced a decision on me that wasn't yours to make! You infected me and sauntered on with your life while I was left to pick up the pieces of what I thought was a random attack!"

  I was growling and I'm pretty sure my eyes had gone from their usual blue to the golden-green hue they took on when I was in cat form.

  I couldn't deny there was some attraction between us, but I was sure it was due to the fact he was my maker. Maybe we were hardwired with a respect-thy-maker sort of thing, a sire bond of sorts? That could be the only explanation as to why I still felt an attraction to such an unbelievably cocky douchebag.

  "That was never my intention. I planned to meet you at the hospital but...."

  "But something more important came up." I sneered.

  "Something came up. It was important to me, but it's not like that."

  "You don't need to explain yourself to me. Let me amend that, you don't need to expla
in anything other than why you ruined my life." I could feel my canines growing.

  I needed to get my anger under control or I'd turn right here. Not exactly the best time or place. I can usually control my shifts, but when emotions run to the extreme, I falter.

  "I wasn't trying to ruin your life. I'm sorry if that is the result. I was trying to make your life better … and maybe even a little more fun. You looked so miserable and so lost. I thought you could use a new direction in life."

  "So, based on seeing me one time, on a bad day, you naturally decided to alter my life so completely and forever without consulting me on it? Who the fuck are you to do that? What god gave you the power over other people's lives? You didn't care what I wanted, or needed, you just wanted a playmate. You sick egotistical fucker, you stay the hell away from me." I hissed at him before I turned and used all the anger I had stored in gearing up to change in order to break this spell he had on me.

  I congratulated myself for pulling away and continued moving to my table.

  "It wasn't just once, Sam. I saw you every day for two years at the coffee cart," he called after me.

  His voice was soft enough that the other diners wouldn't be able to make out exactly what he had said.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  "You were stalking me? You think that makes your decision to—” I broke off as I spun on my heel to face him.

  Upon seeing all those civilian faces staring at me, I covered lamely with, "…do what you did somehow okay? Go away and don't bother me again or next time you won't be the one doing the biting.”

  I hissed again and it took all my effort not to bare my teeth and growl. I managed it, mostly because I didn't want to freak people out. Watching someone turn from a human into a talking black panther is something that is perhaps best left for good friends or a Broadway version of Cats. Especially since the public, for the most part, isn’t aware of us.

  "I can't. I need to speak with you about this."

  "No. Not here and not now." I snorted. "Hell, not ever.” I headed for Quinn's table and ignored what came next.

  "I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to hurt you. Somehow, along the way, I fell for that sad lonely woman I saw out of my office window every day and I just wanted you to know the freedom I felt. When I came across you in the park, I thought it was fate, and then you reached out to me. I honestly just wanted to see you happy instead of so depressed all the time."

  What I wanted was to jump on him and tear his throat out, but, instead, I settled for the more human and adult response of ignoring him. I have to say I was very proud of myself for not having decapitated him with a grapefruit spoon.

  Go me!

  I absolutely love being a jaguar, but I never consented to being turned, and I don’t know—given the choice—that I ever would have. I would never tell him he was right, that I had needed the change, mostly because I was never asked if I wanted it. He thrust it on me without my consent. It wasn't right.

  You don’t turn people without permission.

  A year after I was bit, a law was passed stating that you needed written consent to change someone. Under that law, this man would have had to serve ten years in prison and been forced to pay nearly a hundred thousand dollars in restitution. Unfortunately, because he bit me before the law was passed, there was nothing I could legally do.

  Not to mention I couldn't prove he was the one who bit me. All that would really happen is that I'd be outed in public. Which would probably cause the AWFA to come after me. That’s the group I mentioned earlier. Americans for a Were-Free America (AWFA) were a crazy anti-were and anti-vampire group that wanted to kill us all and let God damn us to Hell. They were spawned from an insane and overly religious group of people that felt as though our very being was an insult to God.

  They are responsible for bombings and murders all over this state and others, and it's not just supernaturals they target. They also hate gays, lesbians, the transgendered, bisexual folks, and hippies, too. They keep threatening to out us to society at large and they hate themselves more than anything else. I suppose you might say they were a well-rounded group of haters.

  I honestly can't imagine what causes someone to turn into such a great big ball of loathing. I've been through hell in my life and I don't hate anyone ... well, outside of the people who hurt me.

  I looked back and saw that the guy who'd turned my life upside down was leaving. He ran his hands through his short, shaggy, sand-colored hair and tucked a stray piece behind his ear as he walked to the door. He looked at me one last time and I could see he was hurt by what I'd said.

  Good.

  He deserved to hurt after the crap he’d pulled. I held his gaze, forcing him to break eye contact.

  Sure, it's a stupid cat thing, but it's something I needed to do. My hussy of a jaguar was drooling all over herself and couldn't understand why I was pushing away, what to her was, a suitable mate. His breaking eye contact first showed her that we were dominant and she understood he wasn't as strong as us. Therefore he marked himself as too weak to be Mr. Purrfect.

  At least it was the best I could do to warn her away from him in cat speak. It didn't work the way I hoped it would. She was still very interested in him. Can't say I blame her too much as he was the only jaguar we'd ever met. As for me, I didn't care if he was the only jaguar we'd ever meet; he wasn't a man I wanted to get to know.

  As I got closer to the table I saw that Chad was there with Quinn and Josh. Great. Just great. Chad was Quinn’s brother and a policeman who had a major crush on me. It made family dinners kind of uncomfortable.

  Quinn and his wife Kelly had adopted me as a sister of sorts and I spent a lot of time with them. Chad wasn’t a bad guy, but I really wasn’t up for any jealous crap right now.

  The look of hurt that was contorting Chad's normally handsome face proved that I was about to get some of the aforementioned crap. All I needed now was the Spanish Inquisition there to grill me over my lifestyle choices.

  "Friend of yours? I can't tell you how badly I wish you'd look at me like that." Chad said the first part aloud but whispered the last just to me.

  "No. That is the man who bit me and turned my life upside down for the rest of time. And, sweetie, if you want me to look at you with serious contempt and extreme loathing, you just have to ask." I smiled and winked at Chad, hoping that I’d masked at least some of the wrath I was feeling.

  It wasn’t any of his business and I was tired of explaining that to him.

  "Damn, Reece, your eyes have gone all yellow." Josh looked unsettled.

  Honestly, I didn't give a rat's ass who was unsettled right then because I was beyond anger and down into rage territory. I forced myself to calm down and when Josh gasped I could tell my eyes had gone back to normal. My teeth were still a little pointier than usual, but, being as I was so pissed off, I could deal with that.

  "So, that's the mystery cat? He seems to like you. What did he say?" I could always count on Quinn to surprise me.

  "Who cares? Whether he likes me or not is irrelevant. He said that he basically changed my life without my consent because I looked sad and lost while he watched me through his window. Who the hell does something like that?"

  "Sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to turn Neanderthal on you. By the way, your eyes…," Chad said softly, reminding me that I needed to calm down or risk losing control.

  "Thanks, Chad." I took a deep breath and calmed myself down again.

  "Who does something like that, you asked. I say honestly that only assholes do that, kid. So, Josh, tell us about this witness." Quinn was smart to change the subject.

  The man who changed me, whatever his name, was definitely not a good topic right now.

  I needed time to calm down and process what it was I was feeling. I was in a state of emotional turmoil like I'd never felt before. There was the expected rage and disgust, but there was also that bit of attraction I couldn't deny. It just had to be some sort of stupid sire bond thing, because I'
m not some swooning idiot that would willingly be attracted to a man who tried to take over my life.

  "Well, he's a priest—”

  "Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!" I wasn't joking.

  Getting a priest on the stand means getting one of the most reliable, honest, and instantly believable witnesses ever. Aside from child abuse cases, that is. Unfortunately, the Catholic Church had done themselves a huge disservice by burying all the complaints of pedophile priests and nuns.

  If they'd taken those assholes right to the police and dropped them from their holy rosters then maybe they'd have a better position in society's eye. Either way, getting a priest who was willing to testify in court against this maniac was a big win.

  "I think this could be just the thing we need to help us catch this dick. According to Father Richmond, he saw our guy, but didn't see much of his face. He can still help with a sketch. I have an artist sitting with him now." Josh fidgeted with his napkin as he spoke.

  I think my little meeting with my maker made him uncomfortable. Speaking of it making people uncomfortable, I wasn't sure exactly what Chad was doing here and I voiced it.

  "I'm kind of wondering, what is Chad doing here, Quinn?"

  "He's helping. His CO gave him permission to help us on this. The police station hasn't given many officers to this case, so Chad and Josh are what we get."

  "Okay. I didn't mean any disrespect; I just wasn't sure what someone from the organized crime division was doing hunting a serial. I thought maybe there was a tie-in somehow. Glad to have you on board, Chad." I really was glad. Chad was a damned good cop. It's just too bad he had a crush on me that I could never return. I listened while Josh recounted what the priest had told him.

  "So, the good father said that he takes the seal of confession seriously, but with what our guy told him, he knew people were in danger. He got permission from some big dog in Rome to break the seal and tell us what he was told. Padre says that Grisly came into the church and headed right for the confessional. He told the priest he’d killed a few women and he wasn't going to stop. He mentioned that God wanted him to do it. He said he was told that he had to wipe the abominations off the face of the earth. He told the priest that God made him a warrior to remove the unclean from this world." Josh looked at his notes and shrugged. "I guess he really didn't think highly of hookers."