Through Storm and Night (The Shape Shifter Chronicles Book 2)

by Lauren Jankowski

  “Can I ask you a somewhat personal question?” Isis began, feeling a little unsure. Electra turned her body toward her sister, propping herself up on her elbow. Her eyes reflected curiosity as she studied her twin.

  “Sure,” she said. Isis shifted uncomfortably, regretting broaching the topic. She was still getting used to how open the shape shifters were compared to typically conservative suburbanite humans who made repression an art form. The guardians sometimes seemed to be even more reticent than humans were. Her twin sister lived as a guardian her entire life and seemed to have been able to skirt their code, so Isis figured she would be the best person to ask.

  “You’ve told me about the strict courting rules of guardians,” Isis continued, rubbing the back of her neck. “Have you ever been in a relationship?”

  Electra gave a half-smile, clearly amused by the question. “Isis, are you asking me if I’ve ever had sex?”

  “No! No! God, no,” Isis stammered. “It’s just . . . Jade mentioned that I’m technically not allowed to date or anything else, but said I just needed to be discreet. I’m not entirely sure what that means, aside from the common sense definition of keeping my private life private. I was just wondering if you had any advice about being discreet should I ever want to get involved with someone in the future.”

  Electra chuckled, looking at her twin. “You’ve had relationships in the past, right?”

  “Not very many. Aside from being ace, I apparently have a reputation for being difficult to get along with,” Isis responded with a half-smile. “I haven’t had any since finding out about all this madness. Truthfully, I haven’t even really thought of it.”

  Madness didn’t even begin to describe it. After Jade told Isis about her being a guardian, Isis had gone into the mansion’s library to try to figure out exactly what that meant. She had needed Alex’s help to clear up the complex traditions of guardians, which required a ridiculous amount of mental gymnastics. Together, they had figured out that Isis being considered a daughter of the Meadows prohibited her from having romantic relationships with any of the supernatural races, including shape shifters. However, since she was a half-breed who lived on Earth, many guardians wouldn’t want her marrying into their family lines.

  “So the High Council forbids you from dating shape shifters. Though you are officially allowed to participate in guardian courtship, almost no guardian is going to want a half-breed sullying their family line,” Alex had summarized with a sympathetic smile. “Basically, you’re screwed. Just not in the good way.”

  “I’ve had a number of lovers,” Electra’s voice brought Isis out of her thoughts. “Mom taught me first to respect myself and my body. She also taught me to ignore what others thought of me. Most of the old-fashioned guardians already think we’re promiscuous simply because of our mother and therefore should be ashamed. The trick is to not let it get to you. They’ll think that no matter what you do. If you meet someone you’re attracted to and who respects you for who you are, then do what you like. If you want to sleep with them, sleep with them.”

  “It can’t be that easy,” Isis said, skeptical of the simple answer.

  “Believe it or not, it is. Just make sure you know whom you can trust and whom you can confide in. The only way Aneurin can find out about your personal life is if you tell him or someone else does. He doesn’t have a magic mirror and he doesn’t know nearly as much as he thinks he does. If he implies that you’re sleeping around, that’s just his way of saying ‘like mother, like daughter.’”

  “Well that’s a relief,” Isis replied. “I thought I was going to have to cast some sort of cloaking spell every time I wanted to have sex.”

  Electra laughed. “That would be positively awful.”

  Isis stood from the bed and moved over to the window, glancing out at the snowy landscape. Electra rolled onto her stomach, watching Isis. She folded her hands and rested her chin on them.

  “Has anyone in particular caught your eye?” she asked, kicking her legs up. Isis gave her a look.

  “No. I just wanted to know for future reference. Like I said before, Jade brought it up and I wanted to know exactly how the whole covert sex life worked.”

  “Ah,” Electra said. She rolled back over and stood up. “I’m going to go down and wait for Jet and Lilly. Chances are they’ll be calling a meeting with the Four.”

  “I should probably go and tell Shae,” Isis mentioned, letting out a sigh. “She is not going to be happy.”

  Electra shrugged and offered her a sympathetic smile. “Such is life when you’re part of a guardian prophecy.”

  *~*~*~*~*

  Roan sat in his comfortable cell in the dungeons. It seemed like an eternity since he had been brought down, but it had only been a few hours. His jacket was lying on the bed beside him. He sat on the chair next to the small desk in the cell. The chair was facing the back wall of the cell and Roan had propped his feet up on the bed, large hands casually laced over his flat stomach. Almost everything in the cell was dark gray. The majority of the wall, the floor, and even the ceiling were dark. There were rectangles of light near the ceiling illuminating the space. Behind him was a transparent wall of guardian glass. The entire dungeon was clean and brightly lit, the polar opposite of what dungeons were perceived to be.

  Roan’s thoughts were mostly of Passion. He knew she hated him and he deserved no less. His past mistakes probably had more than a few negative repercussions on her. He knew of at least one.

  Roan glanced over his shoulder when he heard a couple pairs of footsteps coming down the hall. After a moment, Adonia stepped into view, followed by one of the head guards, Astrea. The guard was wearing the typical guardian leather armor of the dungeon guards. Her black hair was tied back from her face and her deep brown eyes betrayed nothing. Standing stiffly in the background, Astrea kept her eyes forward.

  Adonia stood in front of the glass, staring at him with her normally compassionate green eyes. Her expression was unreadable. Roan looked back to the wall before swinging his long legs off the bed and standing up. He turned and approached the clean glass, holding Adonia’s gaze. They stood in silence for a long while, just watching each other.

  “I imagine if I were to ask why you’re here, I wouldn’t get a straight answer,” Adonia stated. It was no secret Roan was naturally cagey. Even before he had become an assassin, he had been a closed book to everyone, including his family. It was this trait that had helped him survive for so many years.

  “I imagine any answer I give would be written off as a lie,” Roan countered.

  “Try me,” Adonia responded, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Roan leaned his shoulder against the glass, running a finger down the clean surface. “I can and will answer any question the protectors ask me, and I will answer truthfully. All except for one: where I’ve been. It’s completely irrelevant.”

  “Why are you here, Roan?”

  “I’m hoping to atone for my past,” Roan answered, his gaze never wavering from Adonia’s. “There’s something you need to know about the Key. First off, that flashdrive is a diversion, meant to distract Jet and Lilly, while also forcing them to gather the Four. The real Key — the one that is supposedly capable of severing the ties between Earth and the Meadows, essentially destroying both — is a living person. And I know where to find him or her. At least, I think I do.”

  Adonia looked skeptical as she glanced back to Astrea before turning her attention back to Roan. “Where?”

  “Wouldn’t Jet and Lilly like to sit in? This does concern them as well,” Roan pointed out. “They’re not the only ones looking for it, which I’m sure you already know. I’d prefer they get it before other . . . interested parties.”

  “They’ll question you once they get permission from the High Council,” Adonia responded. Roan stared at her, not believing his ears.

  “Seriously? How long is that going to take?”

  “I do not know. Hopefully just a week or two.”
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  “That’s too long,” Roan growled, turning away from the glass and pacing the cell for a moment. He needed to talk to Jet and Lilly immediately and he had to make sure it didn’t get back to Passion. At least not right away. If she knew all that I know . . . guardians only know what she would do, he thought as he steepled his hands and placed his fingertips against his lips.

  “We have a process that we must adhere to. You know that.” Adonia paused. “Is there anything you wish to tell me before I leave?”

  Roan turned his eyes back to the glass, dropping his arms. “May I request something?”

  “You can request, but I cannot promise I can grant whatever it is.”

  “I need a book. A shape shifter account or telling of the War of the Meadows.”

  Adonia blinked a few times. Of all the things she expected Roan to request, that was not one of them.

  “There isn’t much to do and since I won’t have visitors for a while yet, I need some way to pass the time,” he explained with a small tired smile. Adonia once again looked back to Astrea, who looked similarly puzzled.

  “Is there any particular account you desire?” Adonia finally asked.

  “Oh no. Any protector account will do,” Roan answered.

  “Very well. I shall have a messenger bring it to you shortly,” Adonia stated before turning to leave.

  “I suppose it would be too much to ask if she is all right?” Roan spoke again, not looking at the departing guardians but rather at the wall.

  “Yes. It is too much to ask,” Adonia replied before leaving him alone again. He glanced over his shoulder when she was out of sight before returning to the chair that sat alongside the bed. Roan returned to his casual position and waited for a messenger to arrive with the book.

  *~*~*~*~*

  Sly ran a hand through her short black hair as she waited for the light to change. The streets were calm, as they usually were at night. Snow glistened under the few streetlamps. She was pursuing a lead concerning Coop’s whereabouts. She had decided to inquire at the Lair, a popular rebel shape shifter club. It was run by one of Sly’s partners, Alpha, the leader of the rebels and a non-conformist if ever there was one. She was also very well-connected. If anyone would know of a strange shape shifter’s whereabouts, it would probably be Alpha. If nothing else, she might have an idea where to continue looking.

  The Lair . . . Sly smiled when she thought of the rebels’ base, one of the rare places where she felt safe. It was an old hotel the rebels had acquired ages ago and renovated into a club catering to different desires. Aside from the dance club on the first floor, the rooms of the hotel each had a different theme. Whatever someone wanted, it could be found in the Lair.

  The rebels were a group of shape shifters, mainly from protector lineages, who wanted to live by their own rules. They didn’t want anything to do with protectors or guardians and didn’t conform to the rules of other shape shifter sub-cultures. They were a colorful bunch, believing life was about desire, dancing, and freedom from rigid norms. Their club was hidden, but not so hidden that humans couldn’t find it. Every species was welcome in the Lair: supernatural and mortal alike. It was always an interesting blend and one of the only places where humans regularly encountered what they would label supernatural. Many old-fashioned shape shifters, as well as the other supernatural races, frowned on the daily contact with mortals, believing it to be dangerous. The continued existence of the Lair seemed to prove this belief wrong. The rebels lived by their own rules and wouldn’t back down if challenged. Sly frequently referred to it as organized anarchy.

  While the rebel leader was indifferent to Lilly, Alpha disliked Jet. She felt he inspired conformity, the ultimate evil in the rebel book. The rebels refused to talk to the protector leaders, so Jet and Lilly asked Sly to drop by the club and ask a few questions. Since Alpha was her lover, Sly was on good enough terms to be an occasional liaison. With her attitude, she fit right in with them when she needed to. She would never live among them, though. Firstly, most rebels enjoyed dying their hair neon colors — bright shades that made one dizzy if looked at for too long. Then there were the piercings, which never held any appeal to Sly. And of course the daily contact with humans, just the thought of which turned Sly’s stomach.

  Sly glanced in the convertible’s rearview mirror when a pair of headlights illuminated the inside of her car. Noticing a large SUV riding her tail, Sly rolled her eyes. Goddamn humans and their ridiculous vehicles. How they continued to survive and thrive, Sly would never know. She turned her attention back to the road, trying to ignore the blinding lights behind her.

  The truck rammed into the back of her car. Sly fought for control of the steering wheel as the car swerved about. She glanced behind her, just in time to see the truck slam into her again. Her car was miniature in comparison to the monster behind her. She was on a practically deserted road and had no idea about what was on either side of her, so she glanced to both sides. It looked like a ditch or field of some kind to her left and a wooded area to her right.

  The SUV came alongside her and Sly ripped up the handbrake while spinning the wheel, hoping to wind up facing the opposite direction before the truck could recover. The enormous vehicle sped right past her as she spun about. Sly floored the accelerator again and took off in the opposite direction, glancing in the rearview mirror to check how far the truck was behind her. She narrowly missed a sedan that pulled out in front of her from a side road. Sly gritted her teeth and stomped on the brakes again, swearing loudly. Her car screeched to a halt just a few inches from the side of the sedan. The SUV stopped a few feet behind her, effectively blocking her in. Great, Sly thought, hitting the steering wheel and glaring at the sedan.

  The driver’s door of the sedan opened and a shadowy figure stepped out. Sly squinted as she looked at the approaching figure, who was possibly the most non-descript man she had ever seen in her life. He had a pale face, was average height and weight, and wore a well-tailored brown suit. His thinning hair was light brown and he had an unreadable expression. She glanced behind her at the truck, cursing when the doors to that vehicle opened as well. Well, this might get ugly, Sly thought, drumming her fingers on the wheel. Her mind was racing through possible options of dealing with the situation.

  The plain man continued his trek toward Sly’s window, her headlights illuminating his brown pants. An expensive-looking ring rapped on her window. Noticing his gold cufflinks, Sly spotted the mysterious symbol Isis had told the protectors about and sketched for them. Uh oh, Sly thought as she reached down, acting as if she was rolling down the window. In actuality, she was reaching for the gun in her thigh holster, subtly popping open the snap that held it securely in place.

  She glanced in her side mirror, checking the actions of the truck’s occupants. They were just standing there in the winter night, near her bumper. She noticed none of them were wearing coats. Sly rolled down her window and was greeted by the sight of the plain man’s face. Cold blue eyes bore into hers and a deceptively pleasant smile danced across his thin lips. He didn’t smell human or shape shifter. He didn’t have any kind of scent at all, which she had never encountered before. Sly kept her hand hovering just above the Beretta, waiting for the right moment to spring into action.

  “The infamous Sly, at last we meet.” His rich voice caressed her ear. Something about the pleasant voice was off. There was venom hiding just beneath the polite exterior. She carefully took the gun out of its holster, hiding it in the shadows coating her lap.

  “Well, you appear to have me at a bit of a disadvantage,” she stated, smiling up at him. “You know my name and I don’t know yours.”

  “Sly, our employer knows you are an informant for Jet and Lilly. He has a message for them,” the man continued, his own hand going behind his back, most likely to retrieve some kind of weapon.

  “Well, hate to break it to you, but I’m not a goddamn secretary,” Sly replied, switching the safety off. “I’d recommend using the email or th
e telephone and delivering your message yourself.”

  “He just wants to say hello,” the man replied, ignoring Sly. His arm started to come around from behind his back. Sly pointed her Beretta out the window and fired, ignoring the curse the man shouted as the bullet embedded itself in his shoulder. A shot that close would screw up his hearing temporarily, leaving him disoriented. She shifted into reverse and pressed on the accelerator, causing the two shadowy forms behind her to dive to the side. She then shifted into drive and maneuvered around the sedan in front of her, scratching the front of it and sending sparks flying as she damaged the side of the Monroes’ convertible. Sly kept the accelerator floored and didn’t look back.

  *~*~*~*~*

  Jet sat in his study, a warm glow illuminating the room around him. His elbows rested on the desk and his hands were folded in front of him. He rested his chin on them as he stared at nothing in particular. He was troubled by the news of Roan’s return, as was Lilly, and they had spent much of the day trying to figure out how to proceed. He was relieved the feared assassin was finally in custody and the suspected Key had been retrieved, but now they had a completely new set of questions that needed to be answered. Both he and Lilly had met with the Four earlier in the day, shortly after Electra had told them all that had happened. He knew they were going to have to question Roan, a task he wasn’t looking forward to.

  The soft ringing of the office phone interrupted Jet’s musings. He picked it up and put the receiver to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Good, you’re there. Jet, I’m afraid I’m going to have to temporarily resign from my informant duties,” Sly’s calm voice traveled down the line. Jet leaned back in his chair. He could hear a strange clicking on the other end of the line.

  “What? Why?” Jet frowned when he heard the sound of a busy street behind her as well as people chattering. “Where are you?”

  “I had a bit of a situation on the way to the rebel Lair. Some rather unpleasant men tried to run me off the road,” Sly continued. “Now I’m going to have to track them down and kill them. I might even have to torture one or two first just to find out who’s behind this whole thing and exactly how they know me, which is going to be such a chore. I know how you protectors frown on that kind of thing, so I figured—”