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

by Lauren Jankowski

  “Jensen! Settle the hell down!” Nero shouted at his friend as he pulled him away from the cop. “Settle down!”

  Once Nero was sure Jensen was as calm as he was going to get, he turned back to the officer who regarded him with cold gray eyes.

  “Officer, what hap—?”

  “Nero!?” a high-pitched feminine squeal interrupted Nero’s question. “Lindsey, look, it’s Nero and Jensen!”

  Both Jensen and Nero glanced up and recognized the two perky blonde sisters they had dinner with the previous night. They were wheeling the stretcher toward the ambulance. The two men exchanged a mystified look.

  “Did you know they were paramedics?” Jensen asked.

  “No.”

  “You slept with her last night and you didn’t know what she did for a living?”

  “I don’t require a job resume from the people I sleep with, Jensen,” Nero responded, waving at the eager sister. “Is it just me or is this a little weird?”

  “A little?”

  “Officer Brown, it’s okay, we know them,” Lindsey called over to the cop. He glared at them one last time, and the two men could’ve sworn they heard the large man growl before stepping aside. Jensen immediately ran to the body bag, his hands shaking as they reached for the zipper.

  “Um, we’re not really supposed to let you open the bag,” Lindsey said, gazing at him with her bright blue-gray eyes. “But I guess if you’re feeling kinda kinky …”

  The invitation in her eyes turned Jensen’s stomach and he wondered why he had agreed to the dinner in the first place. He glanced over at Nero, who also looked disgusted at the invitation. A frigid wind violently swept through the scene, throwing a fine mist of snow over everything. The frozen landscape was sapped of almost all color, leaving only muted dark colors and white.

  “Danielle, this might be someone we know,” Nero explained, his eyes never moving from the body bag.

  “Oh God, I am so sorry,” Lindsey said, one of her hands fluttering to her chest. Jensen didn’t pay attention to her as he slowly unzipped the bag. He pulled back the top and felt his stomach start churning, vomit creeping up the back of his throat.

  Isis lay in the bag, pale as the snow and dead. There was a large amount of coagulating blood from a hole in her chest where she had been stabbed. There was dried blood around her mouth. Her eyes were closed, and that much was a blessing.

  Jensen stumbled away from the stretcher, lurching almost drunkenly. He dropped to his knees on the curb and heaved, emptying all the contents of his stomach. Nero swallowed the bile that rose up in his own throat as he turned his eyes back to the two sisters. They stood there, looking vacant as ever.

  “It’s her,” he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his face.

  “Oh, well, you can pick the body up at the St. Francis morgue in town,” Danielle said in her perky voice. “I think they gotta do an autopsy or something.”

  “Yeah,” Nero replied as he watched them load his young niece’s body into the ambulance. He watched as it sped away, followed closely by the two squad cars with sirens blaring, gradually fading into the distance. Soon, the only sound was Jensen’s retching.

  Nero couldn’t move; he didn’t know what to do. Snow started to drift down again, clinging to everything it touched. Distantly, he heard his cell phone ring. Nero remembered he had left the driver’s door open but he couldn’t make his body respond to any commands.

  Finally, when Jensen finished retching, Nero was able to make his neck turn so he could look over at his friend. Jensen spit one more time and got to his feet, walking away in the direction they had come from.

  “Where are you going?” Nero called after him. Jensen turned around, tears glistening in his eyes as he gestured vaguely behind him. He looked broken. The wind rushed over him, tossing his brown hair about, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “I have to … go. I have to go home.”

  Nero watched as Jensen walked in the direction of his apartment. He sighed and went to his car. Nero picked up his cell phone and dialed his oldest brother’s number. Ajax answered after the second ring, sounding concerned.

  “Ajax?” Nero managed to choke out.

  “Nero? Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

  “She’s dead, Ajax. She was stabbed and they have her at the morgue in town,” Nero said, his words almost blending together. “Someone needs to go down to I.D. the body.”

  “Nero, slow down,” Ajax said, his voice calm and steady, though still tinged with concern. “Whose body? What happened?”

  “Isis,” Nero replied before hanging up. He started his car and headed back toward the mansion, swiping at the tears in his eyes.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The morgue was never a crowded place, but there were always bodies behind the large red doors. There always would be bodies in the morgue. At night, it was particularly quiet. The sickly pale green glow of florescent lights illuminated the clean tiled floor. The lights flickered occasionally, their buzz the only sound in the morgue.

  A single woman sat behind the desk at the entrance. She had shoulder length hair, which was tied back in a neat ponytail. Her skeletal fingers flipped idly through a book her gray eyes were fixed on. The lines on her face spoke of too much stress. She might have once been youthful, but the years had not been kind and now she always looked tired. Her bright eyes were still sharp, however, and could pick up the smallest movement. She had only started working at the morgue that night, but no one would know it. The woman would be gone as soon as the sun rose.

  The woman glanced up when two men entered the morgue. She closed her book — she had been expecting them. One stood back a few feet by the door as the other approached the desk.

  “Can I help you gentlemen?” she asked in a pleasant tone, smiling.

  Jet laid his hands on the desk. “I’m here to I.D. a body. Detective Loman faxed over the necessary paperwork earlier this evening.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that,” the woman responded. Jet frowned and glanced over his shoulder, exchanging a puzzled look with Remington. It was one of the first times he had seen the loyal trainer look somewhat baffled.

  “I’m sorry, didn’t the paperwork come through? Should I call Detective Loman?” Jet asked politely but wearily. He was so tired and could only think of his best friend. When he had left the mansion, Passion had been weeping in Lilly’s arms, inconsolable. Lilly had offered to stay with the guardian while Jet and Remington retrieved the body.

  “Oh no. The paperwork came through a couple hours ago. Everything was in place,” the woman answered, playing with her necklace. Hearing a quiet shuffle behind him, Jet turned his eyes back to Remington, who had straightened up and was now studying the woman. Jet swallowed and turned his eyes back to the receptionist. The hair on the back of his neck was starting to stand up. Jet studied the gold charm on the thin gold chain. It looked a little familiar but he had no idea from where.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Jet asked.

  The woman shrugged, still smiling. Jet stared at her, glancing back at Remington again. He wasn’t sure what the issue was. He licked his lips and turned back to the woman, looking at her nametag.

  “Ms. Green,” he began.

  “Jet,” she said. At first, the protector was a little startled to hear her say his name. Then he remembered her saying the paperwork had come through. She smiled at him and there was something almost predatory about the expression.

  “I cleared this with the detective and if the paperwork came through, I don’t understand what the problem is,” Jet tried again. “Could I please use your phone?”

  “I’m sorry, Jet. The phone is for morgue business only,” Ms. Green responded.

  “Okay, ma’am, it has been a very long, very bad day,” Jet began, his patience thinning. “I just want to claim the body of my friend.”

  “Is that a Chi Rho?”

  Jet looked over his shoulder when he heard Remington’s strange question. The traine
r took a step forward and nodded at the woman’s charm. Jet turned his eyes back to the woman, studying the charm a little closer. Her eyes narrowed for a split second before her pleasant expression slipped back into place.

  “It is. What good eyes you have, Remington.”

  That got Jet’s attention. He understood how the woman knew his name, but she couldn’t possibly know Remington’s.

  “Who are you?” Jet asked, turning his attention fully on her.

  The woman picked up the phone. “Officer White, could you please come down here?” She then turned back to Jet. “I’m going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave now.”

  Suddenly, as if out of thin air, a large security guard came up on the right side of the desk. He was in full uniform, including a hat atop his head and a vicious-looking firearm on his hip, which Jet didn’t recognize as the standard issued weapon of the local police force. The holster was unsnapped and his hand rested on the butt. The guard’s brown eyes were calm but cold as he glared at the trio.

  “Is there a problem here?” he asked, his voice a rumbling growl. Jet straightened his posture, meeting the guard’s glare with one of his own. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Remington shift his weight.

  “Yes, there is. I’m here to claim a body, I have the proper paperwork, and Ms. Green won’t let me enter the morgue,” Jet explained.

  “Jet’s making unfounded accusations. I believe he’s a threat to my personal safety,” Ms. Green spoke with chilling calmness.

  “Okay, what the hell is going on here?” Jet demanded. Remington suddenly stepped in front of him, putting himself between Jet and the guard.

  “Jet, I really think we should leave,” he murmured under his breath.

  “I can’t just—”

  “The man just drew his gun.”

  Jet immediately looked over at the guard, noticing he had taken out his gun and now held it loosely at his side. Why this officer was drawing on an obviously unarmed man, Jet had no clue. He held up his hands, indicating he wasn’t armed, turning his eyes back to Remington.

  “Remington, I can’t. I can’t just leave her here,” Jet whispered, feeling tears creep into his eyes. Remington turned his attention back to Jet.

  “We have already lost too much, my friend. Please do not make me bring news back to Lilly and Passion that you have fallen as well,” Remington replied. Jet closed his eyes and dropped his head.

  “I suggest you both go on your way,” the guard warned in his intimidating voice. Jet looked up again, turned his eyes back to the guard, and nodded.

  As quickly and as cautiously as he could, Jet turned and made his way for the door. He heard Remington follow close behind him, keeping himself between Jet and the strange people in the morgue.

  The protectors stepped out into the frigid night and Jet let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He looked at Remington, disturbed, and Jet could tell Remington felt the same.

  “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark,” Remington quipped, sticking his hands in his pockets.

  “What was that question about the Chi Rho?” Jet asked as they made their way toward the car. Remington lifted his shoulders, rubbing the bottom of his chin with one hand.

  “Haven’t seen one in quite some time — it’s a very old Christian symbol. Practically a relic,” Remington explained. “As a symbol, it was mostly stamped on coins or written in books. I have never seen one worn, certainly not in the modern day. Modern Christians typically wear a crucifix or a pendant of a patron saint as symbols of their faith. Although, I must admit I have never seen such a complex and corrupted Chi Rho with those designs on the stem. Usually it’s just plain lines.”

  Jet looked back at the morgue, which looked darker.

  “I can’t be certain, not with the fumes in there,” Jet began, hesitating before turning his eyes back to Remington. “But I could have sworn that neither of them had a scent.”

  Remington had a grave look on his face. “I noticed it too.”

  *~*~*~*~*

  Between the sobbing and the accusations, the mansion had fallen into utter chaos.

  “You promised me, you promised me you’d protect her! You said you’d protect her with your dying breath! Well she’s dead, not you!” Passion spat at Jet. She was sitting on the floor and Lilly knelt beside her, holding the grieving guardian tightly, offering her what little comfort she could. Jet opened his mouth to respond only to be cut off by her again. The only silent ones in the room were Adonia, Artemis, and Electra. Adonia and Artemis stood in the thick of things while Electra remained off to the side. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. She had cried herself out hours ago and now just felt numb. Emotions swirled up inside of her, not all of which she was familiar with, and it left her feeling drained.

  “You can’t even get her damn body!” Passion continued before burying her face in Lilly’s shoulder again, a loud wail escaping her lips. Lilly continued to stroke Passion’s soft hair, whispering words of comfort to her. Electra glanced around at the people in the room: the remaining members of the Four, Steve, Remington, the Deverells, and …

  Electra frowned when she realized someone was missing. Where the hell was Jensen? Happy to be able to focus on something else, Electra slipped out of the room and away from the commotion. She didn’t want to hear any more — she couldn’t. Let them sort all this shit out. Right now, Electra wanted to know where Jensen was. And she wasn’t going to stop until she found him. After she found him, she’d find another asinine thing to focus on and then another and another.

  Electra leaned against a wall, putting her head back with a thunk.

  “I don’t want to Appear,” she groaned to herself. It was unavoidable though. She closed her eyes and felt her temperature rise a little as she disappeared from the mansion and Appeared in the dark hallway of Jensen’s apartment. Electra knew she’d be in trouble later for Appearing in such a public place, but she really didn’t care. She would be in even more trouble for venturing out without a chaperone, which Electra was also unconcerned about.

  The young guardian started down the dark quiet hallway. It was very late at night and most people were asleep. She stopped in front of Jensen’s door, having remembered it from back in the day when Nat and Bryn were thought to be part of the Four. She knocked on the door, glancing down the dimly lit hallway to the window at the end. The night seemed ominous, tainting everything it touched. It was darker than it normally was in the winter. Electra suppressed a shudder as she knocked on the door again.

  “Jensen?” she called out as she tested the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Electra looked down when she heard glass crunching under her boots. The entire apartment was shrouded in blackness. The only light was a muted blue glow creeping through the large windows across from her, casting shadows of the frames on the floor.

  Electra closed the door behind her and crouched down to examine the glass shards littering the floor in front of the door. A sudden movement a few feet in front of her caused her head to jerk up.

  “Oh great, it’s the other one,” Jensen slurred as he stumbled out from the short hall leading to his bedroom. His clothes were in disarray and he looked as disheveled as Electra had ever seen him. A powerful handgun was gripped tightly in his right hand while his left held a half empty bottle of some clear liquid. Electra guessed it was alcohol, most likely vodka.

  “Um, there’s a meeting at the mansion,” Electra said, watching as Jensen flipped the safety back on the gun. “What’s with the glass?”

  Jensen gave her a sarcastic little smile before hurling the half-full bottle at her. Electra couldn’t prevent the startled gasp that escaped from her lips as she ducked, narrowly avoiding getting hit in the face with the bottle. It hit the door and shattered, raining small shards of glass and cold liquid on Electra’s back.

  “Alarm system,” Jensen responded as he made his way over to the darkened kitchen, placing his gun
on the counter as he made his way to the fridge. Electra straightened up, fury burning in her chest.

  “Have you completely lost your mind!?” Electra hissed at him. He snorted humorlessly.

  “No, but I’m getting there,” Jensen replied as he opened the fridge. The dull light of the fridge illuminated his face as he retrieved another bottle of alcohol. The amber liquid told Electra it was most likely whiskey. Jensen held the bottle out to her — an offering. She grimaced in disgust and looked away from him. He shrugged and unscrewed the top of the bottle, slapping the fancy square top on the counter next to his gun before taking a deep swig. He unsteadily made his way over to the couch, Electra right on his heels.

  “Listen, you drunken ass,” she snapped at him. “My sister was … there’s a mandatory meeting so we can try to figure out what’s going on. Give me one good reason why you’re not there!”

  “Cause I’m gettin’ drunk,” Jensen replied, making a face as though the answer were obvious and turned his attention back to the whiskey bottle, taking a long swig from it. Electra closed her eyes, attempting to regain her composure.

  “You can grieve however you want after you tell Jet and Lilly exactly what you saw, so we can catch whomever—”

  “You’ll never catch them, but you want my report? Fine, I saw your sister’s body with a big gaping hole in her chest,” Jensen paused and swallowed, looking up at Electra. “From a knife. There was blood around her mouth, meaning she most likely drowned in her own blood. Because it filled her lungs, you see. It would have painful, excruciatingly so, and she probably died terrified. Satisfied? Now get the hell out.”

  Electra felt as if someone had just punched her in the chest. She stumbled back, away from Jensen, who took another swig of whiskey.

  “Aw, what’s the matter, sweetie? Too graphic for you?” Jensen asked in a condescending tone.