The supes in the room grew restless, their feet scuffing against the dirt ground.
“We’re not here to save you,” I said and stepped forward.
“Good.” His pained gaze met mine. “I hate…weak…”
Understanding hit me like a freight train. Lucien always hated looking weak. He lacked the courage and mental strength to overcome something like this. Hadn’t he seen the brave soldiers who returned from battle with wounds and scars like his? How the men and women faced their new challenges in life with courage and carved out new lives?
Lucien didn’t have that. He had nothing but pride, backed with power, and now both of those had been ripped away from him.
Good.
Sickly sweet sweat clung to his pores, but I doubt Lucien feared what would come next. My possible inaction scared him. He feared survival.
I took another step forward. I could let him live. Have him survive and go through the torture of knowing the extent of his weakness and dependency on those around him.
I hesitated.
With only a foot separating me from the man who’d used Wick against me more than once, I weighed my options.
If I let him live, he’d find a way to kill himself, or he might somehow survive and come back to exact his revenge. And once recovered, he’d control wolves again, including Wick. I couldn’t take that risk. Sure, under constant guard, he’d suffer months, if not years of recuperation. But…but, he’d already suffered for months and months in this condition.
His dark gaze met mine, recognition of my choice glimmering in his eyes. “Thank you.”
I ripped his head clean from his shoulders, the tissue and bone weak from malnourishment. His body, still suspended from the beams, swayed from the force of my quick attack. Lucien’s head, still gripped between my hands spilled only a little blood on the floor. He didn’t have much left to lose.
I turned and walked to Allan, handing him Lucien’s head. The sunken features and glazed eyes a shadow of the attractive man he’d once been.
“Give this to Clint?”
Allan nodded.
“His Master is at rest now.” Though I’d never understand why Clint cared deeply for his Master, he had. And although the feelings I held for Clint weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy, I’d grown to appreciate the complexities of his personality, and the role he’d played in my rescue and revenge. He deserved some closure. After all, I’d found mine.
I shifted to wolf and leapt at Wick. Let’s run.
Wick howled his agreement.
Epilogue
The beginning
“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.”
~Judy Garland
The wind whispered through the pine leaves and snarled branches lining the beach. Sonny soared over the waves with Tank, screeching delight as the summer sun reflected off their glistening feathers and the ocean water.
Wick sat beside me on the sand, holding my hand, breathing in the salty air, eyes shut in delight. His warmth beside me mimicked his expanding presence in my heart, the bond growing stronger, warmer and more content with each passing day.
We’d taken a break from all the hard work. Sonny finally quit his job at the lodge. His resort was shaping up nicely, and ahead of schedule, with the help of Wick’s developer skills, and a pack of wolves taking vacation from their regular day jobs to help out with the manual labour.
It had been two months since killing Lucien and Christine. Vancouver and the surrounding area had returned to normal, with Allan as the head of the Vampire horde. He’d pulled back the influence of the Vampires in the Lower Mainland, ceding control over non-Vampire supes to create an environment of supe equality. Clint had taken Lucien’s head and disappeared into the night without a word. Somehow, I knew we’d see him again, and not as an enemy.
With the corruption of the SRD and the evil plans of the Pharaoh and Bola revealed, the federal governments of Canada and the United States had dissolved the SRD in an epic knee-jerk reaction. Instead, specialized divisions within local police departments assumed control over monitoring the supernatural crimes in their jurisdictions.
Now, a lot of law enforcement agencies scrambled to hire qualified, capable, and honourable supes, strong enough to take down the bad supes. Because of this, or at least I suspected because of this, the upper brass of the Vancouver Police Department had forgiven me of my beastly outburst and expunged any pending charges or disciplinary actions they’d originally planned to dole out. Knowing I was part Goddess, and totally badass, they continuously attempted to lure me back to employment with promises of grandeur.
In other words, working with Stan.
I loved that man and still met him for beer & bitch sessions. Working with him would be awesome, and now that he headed the VPD’s Supe Crime Division, it would be a lot of fun, too. Not all the super supes had been in cages. A few continued to lurk around the area and required extermination.
I hadn’t made my decision, yet. Since I never attended any disciplinary hearings, and they hadn’t finished the paperwork to fire me, the VPD was still technically my employer. I’d officially taken a Leave of Absence for “Extenuating Circumstances,” enjoying life as a newly mated supe, and as a glorified helper for my brother’s dream.
Assisting Sonny with his resort had been rewarding and therapeutic, but as the summer came to an end, so too, did our sojourn. Tristan’s inheritance provided me with the means to never work again. Mated with Wick, a very successful building developer, also ensured financial stability. But I needed something to call my own.
My cell phone vibrated, and I straightened my leg to pull it out of my pocket.
“Andy!” Ben yelled into the phone. “This one’s for you.”
The Witch den crooned an 80s romance song into the receiver, and my smile broadened. The Witches had recuperated from their confinement and were back to their karaoke and joking selves.
Without the SRD, Ben and Matt faced unemployment. This fact led me to my brain child, a way to connect my new life with the old. When we returned to Vancouver, I planned to open an office for Sonny’s resort. We’d do all the bookings, marketing, advertising, and arrange travel to and from the Haida Gwaii. With the office located in one of the busiest business sectors in North America, the exposure would be excellent. A one-trick travel agency of sorts. The Witches would work for me.
I’d get to travel back and forth between the Lower Mainland where I lived with Wick, my heart, and the Haida Gwaii, which sang to my soul.
When I told Sonny, his eyes had widened and glistened with what looked suspiciously like tears. The hug he gave me nearly crushed my bones.
The Witches finished their crooning, and without so much as a goodbye, hung up. To say they were excited about their new job and employer was a bit of an understatement.
I reached down and picked up the postcard from Donny, my old handler. He’d sent it from a tropical paradise with a simple message. “I’m proud of you.” His chicken scratch handwriting stared back at me and brought a smile to my face. How the coyote Shifter discovered what transpired, or where I currently stayed remained a mystery, much like everything else about the old man. One thing I did know, I’d see him again, too.
Wick squeezed my hand, and I snuggled into the warmth of his side. His molten brown gaze melted mine as he dipped down to kiss me. A lazy kiss, with soft lips and a tease of tongue, the beast inside stirred as warmth expanded within me. I wanted more. I always did with Wick. His love didn’t suffocate. Instead, it burned low and threatened to consume me with delicious heat. I wanted to melt. I wanted to turn to putty in this man’s hands. Again, and again, and again.
Wick chuckled against my mouth. “Your brother is watching.”
So am I, get a room, Tank crooned.
I ignored the featherhead and kept my gaze trained on my Werewolf. Wick’s words might imply one thing, but his body said another. His gaze flashed yellow, and I rea
ched down to grope the evidence. “Then let’s find some privacy.”
Wick stood up and offered his hand. The smooth chocolate of his gaze seared the inside of my soul with the warmth of his love.
A memory of a similar moment, from a lifetime ago, resurfaced and played with my neurons. Whatever life threw at us, we’d face it together, and it would be all right.
I smiled, recognizing the truth in my original thought from so long ago. The path to this moment was paved with pain and loss, but love bore me out of the ashes, and made me a stronger, better person.
I gently placed the postcard on the towel and moved my discarded flip-flop to weigh it down from the wind. We’d come back for our stuff later. With a smile, I slipped my hand in Wick’s and let him haul me to my feet. Our bodies slapped together, sending a jolt low in my belly. The corners of his mouth tugged up as he read my wicked thoughts and sent an image of his own, one of our naked bodies entwined and writhing with pleasure on the soft mossy banks by the river.
As we ripped off our clothes to shift and run as wolves together in the ancient forests of the Haida, as my birth parents once had, love flowed through my veins.
Yes, the fight against my enemies was over, but my life had just begun.
Acknowledgments
Although I was born and raised on the Haida Gwaii, and visited all but one of the sites mentioned in this story, I was young when I lived there, and it was a long time ago. Any mistakes or errors are my own, and I apologize in advance for them. The one place I haven’t visited, much to my regret, is S’G̱ang Gwaay Llanagaay, also known as Ninstints. Although one critical scene is loosely based on this location, I took certain liberties to create a fictional area to fit my story’s needs.
I grew up in a town called Port Clements, about a ten-minute drive from where the Golden Spruce once stood. We used to trek the short trail to sit across the bank to look at the tree, also known as Kiidk’yaas. When a deranged environmentalist cut it down in a misplaced protest against logging, I grieved the loss of this magnificent tree. The Golden Spruce has its own tale, but this belongs to the Haida. What I can tell you is the Golden Spruce was a three-hundred-year-old biological phenomenon, and to many people, not only the Haida, this tree was so much more than “just a tree.” I’d once planned to bring future children to this site and create new memories as fond and cherished as my own. Now, I can only share photographs and say, “When I was a little girl…” Although scientists attempt to reproduce the Golden Spruce from cuttings, saplings in pots will never replace the beautiful spruce that once stood majestically amidst evergreens in a lush, temperate rainforest off the west coast of Canada. I’m sad for the loss of this tree, not just for myself, but for the people of the Haida Gwaii.
In the making of this book, I’d like to thank my beta readers and critique partners: Charlotte Copper, Karilyn Bentley, Abigail Owen, Katie O’Sullivan, Nicole Flockton, and Jana Richards. Thank you to my fabulous friends for the location suggestions, especially Hannah and Lindsay. You’ll see that I’ve incorporated a few of these sites into the story. I’d also like to thank my publisher, the Wild Rose Press; my Cover Designer, Debbie Taylor; and my editor, Lara Parker. Lara, you’ve been an absolute treat to work with. I love your comments and getting e-mails that read, “How are you? I thought of you this morning when I took my stress ball and smashed it on the desktop… Did you think that through? You want me to think of you when I smush things? Ha,ha!” Thank you for taking a chance with Shift Happens and staying with me for the whole series. I’m going to have to create a new world just so we can work together again.
I’d also like to thank the readers for their words of support and positive reviews; my family and friends for their love and support; and as always, my husband and son, who give me a reason to keep smiling.
This book is about loss, but more importantly, it’s about rising from the dark abyss of loss, the healing that comes from this growth, and how the love of friends and family can help heal these deep wounds. Liam Neeson once said, “Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts. Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these things confused with love, but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain and makes someone feel wonderful again. Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt.” Thank you to my husband and son for teaching me the truth in these words.
A word about the author…
Born and raised on the Haida Gwaii, off the West Coast of Canada, J. C. McKenzie grew up in a pristine wilderness that inspired her to dream. She writes Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance.
You can visit her website at http://jcmckenzie.ca
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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