Dead Shifter Walking

by Kim Schubert

  Dropping my gaze, I nodded then added timidly, lifting my eyes back to his. “Your shower?” I searched his gaze slowly.

  He leaned back against the metal studying me, and fear gripped my insides colder than the metal I had just been sitting on as I my heart rate accelerated. Had I played this wrong? Did he know I was playing him, that the only emotion I could ever feel for him was pure, undiluted hatred?

  I started to talk, stammering, but he silenced my words with a forceful kiss. Yelping, I tried to return it, but he had me up in his arms too quickly.

  I held on, as the guards outside opened the door, hiding my head in his neck. “Did I do something wrong?” I whispered, terrified.

  “No, baby girl. You’re doing perfectly,” he murmured against me, holding me tightly. I counted his steps and each turn, committing them to memory. I was grateful when his door finally opened. Gently, he set me down, and I took a look around, gingerly testing the strength of my legs.

  The bed loomed huge and threatening, but I swallowed my bile, turning to smile at him instead. He liked the smiles when my shoulders weren’t tense and hunched. He reached a hand out, asking, “Are you ready?” His readiness was already evident from the bulge in his pants.

  Slowly, I nodded, taking his hand, being sure to keep my facial expression pleasant as my insides screamed to make this horror stop.

  The screaming grew louder, and I placed the voice as Mal, followed by Tate and Morgan, bellowing in anguish. The prick of a needle in my arm had me jerking involuntarily as the steaming heat seared through my veins, pulling me into instant alertness and counteracting the first drug they had slipped me.

  Mal was in front of me as my shields slammed back into place, panting, tears streaming down her face. With one snap of my arm, I elbowed her skull, leaving a softball-size impression. Turning, I located Morgan. Flinging the ornate desk to the side, I stalked toward his frame, pulling out twin blades as he leaned against the wall, his vision returning as I felt the warm blood spill from the gut wound I inflicted, followed by his insides falling out.

  Snarling, I felt the monster Selena had created trying to make its presence known and I forced it back, I couldn’t lose that much control right now. I wanted to kill everything in this room; I knew better now. But a lesson? Why yes, a lesson was certainly in order.

  Tate righted himself, holding a hand out, attempting to use words to stop me, yelling for me to calm down, be reasonable, and listen. I stabbed him terribly close to his hearts, watching with pleasure as he looked down at the wound, no doubt seeing his own fragile mortality dangled in front of him.

  Letting his body weight pull the knife out, I stood above him disgusted. I wanted to say something poetic and threating, leave him with words that would resonate for decades after I stopped showing up on his doorstep. But I had nothing, only the raw open wound the drugs had forced on me and the pain of reliving memories of a person I hated.

  I walked out, noting almost happily that Blake was unconscious.

  At least he hadn’t betrayed me as well, yet.

  Chapter 15

  In the dilapidated hotel room, I pulled the cap off my second bottle of vodka. My bags littered the filthy floor. Thanks to Jerry’s donation, I was up to two. Bracing my forearms on my knees, I stared thoughtfully at the dingy floor, taking another swig, willing the burn to dull the ache inside of me.

  The memories just wouldn’t stop, so I drank more.

  I could still see his face when I let my mind wander. I could still feel his hands.

  The empty bottle dropped from my fingers as my body shut down, refusing to take in any more toxins. This blackness was different; it was a welcome reprieve from the hellish nightmares I had endured.

  …

  Slowly, the dryness in my throat itched at my awareness, a reminder of the terrible treatment I had put my body through—I looked at my watch—two days had passed. Groaning, I sat up in the chair, my back popping as feeling returned painfully to my legs.

  Sitting there staring down at the brown stained carpet, I mulled over the events that led to me a cell phone I had disabled and two bags that made up my entire fucking pathetic life.

  Swallowing down my bile, I stumbled into the shower, making quick work of getting ready. Wiping off the cracked mirror, I half expected to see that same thirteen-year-old girl who ruled my nightmares not the twenty-two-year-old survivor.

  Pressing my forehead against the glass, I fortified my walls, pulling the braided cords of pain down deep, leaving it with all the rest.

  Picking up the hotel phone, I called a familiar number. “George,” a gruff voiced answered angrily.

  “It’s time for a two by two with a ride for four,” I whispered, giving him the address as the line went dead.

  Gathering my bags by the door, I kept an eye out the window with its thin peach-colored curtains.

  Thirty minutes later, a blue sedan pulled up in front without the scantily clad, drug-using prostitutes it usually carried. Tossing my bags in the back, I slipped into the passenger seat next to George. “I fucking hate when you call,” he growled, a cigarette dangling from his crusty lips as he hunched over the steering wheel, staring into the night.

  Leaning against the seat, inhaling cheap perfume and expensive cigarette smoke, I reminded him, “You could have sent someone else.”

  He huffed, pulling a dangerous move as he merged with traffic while giving me a disbelieving glance. “And have ya caused more problems in my establishment?”

  “Be grateful you are human as are your employees, George,” I reminded him, silently adding that if he weren’t, I’d have his balls already. As it was, the most I did was demand free, anonymous transportation in exchange for taking care of the occasional supernatural problem he might encounter.

  George cast a nervous glance my way, and I didn’t care if it was because of the silver knives strapped to my legs or the dual swords secured to my back, I wanted him on edge.

  Pulling into the back alley of the house where I had met Darren and Hannah, I stepped out, leaning down to make eye contact. “Take my bags to the manor, speak to no one,” I demanded, slamming the car door. Probably shouldn’t have slammed it, I chided myself.

  Silently scaling over the wrought iron fence, I dropped, my combat boots hitting the ground softly. Crouching, I listened for sounds of approaching guards I assumed Logan had posted. Nothing.

  Keeping low to the ground, I slipped between the perfectly trimmed foliage arriving at a tall, wide tree. The limbs were not low enough to climb, nor was it close enough to the house. Slipping into the open yard again, I wove farther, stopping behind a large rose bush to listen again. Shifters would smell me instantly, still nothing.

  I sighed; perhaps I truly was paranoid with my electric fence and constant guards at the manor. Maybe, but as my nightmares reminded me, better safe than sorry.

  Close enough to the house to be worried about the light shining out, I finally found a tree worth climbing. Clawing my way up so that I could see the second story, I was rewarded with a perfect view of Logan’s back, on the phone at a black modern desk, kicking his feet up. I watched through the Victorian square window that had clearly missed the memo that this house was modern.

  Lying my stomach down on the branch, I was waiting here till I saw the target I wanted. In the waiting, I was more than willing to watch Logan in secret as he stretched, standing up from his chair. He was a beautiful specimen of shifter: wide shoulders, tapered waist, and a perfect air of menace. I sighed, thinking about Blake. Had I made a mistake with him?

  At the time, it certainly hadn’t felt like one and I knew I would need to see him to either believe or disbelieve his claim that he had nothing to do with my sedation or knew what was going on. I had long ago gotten use to the idea that I could be used and tricked in sex. My body and soul craved the physical connection as a means to stock my energy reserves.

  A relationship, that was what Blake wanted, and, foolishly, I entertained the thought
. Perhaps I should just swear off vampires as a whole. They certainly hadn’t brought me anything worth my time or energy lately.

  Adjusting on my branch, I sighed when Logan shut the lights off and called it a night.

  Chapter 16

  It took three days of living in Logan’s backyard till I finally saw my prey. Three days of pushing my muscles through hours of misery, maintaining a still position, and surviving off military-grade rations. Finally, Steven, in all his cocky, irritating, hate-inducing glory, walked in. The dead place inside me thumped triumphantly.

  Logan kept him across the desk with arms crossed, and, while I couldn’t read his lips, I was an expert in body language, which screamed that Logan was upset. I wondered idly what else the fucker had done since attempting to kill me.

  It didn’t matter. I needed to kill and I didn’t have the time or patience to hunt anyone or anything else. My stiff muscles protested at being used as I slipped off the branch and dashed to the front of the house, staying low in the bushes, waiting for any nosey neighbors. The drapes all stayed in place and no one was about as I crept to the front of what could only be Steven’s car. The color gave it away, the brightest, loudest orange I had ever seen, shockingly worse than Tate’s car.

  Settling my backpack in front of me, I pulled out the small tracker, slipping it into a secure location behind the license plate before darting back behind the bushes. Sighing, I stared down at my still disassembled phone, knowing I would have to put it back together in order to track Steven. I was dreading it, since I was certain my violent and bloody exit from the vampires' house had not gone over well. Shifting to sit on the cold wet ground, I put the battery back in before I decided to just kill Steven here and have the shifter nation also pissed off at me.

  Sometimes I wondered how I had remained the primary executioner for this long; I don’t do politics.

  Exhaling, I snapped the cover on the back of the phone, powering it up, angry with myself for wondering if Blake had tried to call or text me. Foolish hope.

  Then a truly terrifying thought seeped into me. What if no one called, no one texted, no one gave a fuck that I went off the grid for almost a week? That thought had my stomach dropping to the ground, and I almost missed activating the tracker on my end as Steven took off.

  Did it matter if people missed me, if I were a large enough part of their life to matter? When had they become such a large part of mine?

  I was going to have to put my current identity crisis on hold. I needed a ride. According to my phone, the manor was 3.7 miles away; I could jog it as fast as they could reach me.

  At the manor, I punched in the code to the garage and stretched my side, waiting for enough space to slip in. I wasn’t expecting Kass to be standing there, looking dumbfounded at me.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling keys for the SUV. I had learned my lesson with small cars.

  “Olivia,” Kass said as I unlocked the SUV, “where have you been?”

  “Away,” I answered with a half shrug, tossing my backpack in the passenger seat.

  “Olivia,” Kass repeated.

  “What Kass?” I asked, facing her, arms throw out, anger shortening my temper.

  Her own temper hit me with force and I narrowed my eyes at her. “Control,” I hissed, letting my own temper slip slightly.

  Tilting her chin up, she swallowed, uncrossing her arms. “You are needed,” she said with emphasis on each word.

  “I’m hunting,” I said, slipping into the car.

  “Olivia, we have a sit-in that needs your attention,” she said, casting a look behind the open garage door.

  “A what?” I asked, rolling down the passenger-side window.

  “A sit-in,” she repeated tensely.

  “What the fuck is that?” I repeated as Grams came to the driver's side door, opening it.

  “It is where four vampires will not leave our living room until they speak to you,” Grams hissed, leveling me with an equally intense look.

  Sighing, I leaned my head against the headrest, closing my eyes. “I really would prefer to kill them,” I muttered. “Well, at least three of them,” I amended.

  “That almost feels like progress,” Kass said, wryly.

  Glaring at her, I clarified, “It’s not.” Reluctantly, I got out of the car. “Where are the fuckers?” I asked. “They have fucking awful timing.”

  The vamps were in the living room. Blake was playing video games with Tommy. The others we sitting like stylish manikins on the sofa.

  “What?” I growled, entering the room as all eyes turned to look at me, still decked out in killing silver and swords. I was right; I did want to kill three of the vampires: Tate, Morgan, and Mal. Blake, I was on the fence about.

  “Tommy, you should probably leave,” Kass said, turning the TV off.

  “Oh, come on, Kass; I never get to see Olivia kick vampire asses,” Tommy whined, following her out.

  I waited for them to speak, although I only cared what Blake had to say.

  He smiled at me, and I remembered he could still feel me. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, smiling.

  I faked a glare at his widening smile.

  Turning my attention to the two master vampires, I intently glared holes into their undead skulls. They shifted uncomfortably, probably with the memory of how close I came to killing them. At least, I hoped that was why.

  Mal spoke first. “We didn’t know and we were trying to figure out what the bond would be between you and Blake.”

  I nodded and said, “Get out,” before turning to Blake, raising an eyebrow.

  “Olivia, we came to work this out,” Tate said.

  “Really, Tate? I don’t see any chocolates or flowers, nor do I hear a fucking apology out of any of your mouths,” I said, scorching them.

  Tate shifted uncomfortably. “You did almost kill me.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t make me regret not doing it,” I answered hotly, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “We didn’t come here to fight,” Mal said, trying to get through my thick skull.

  “Then why are you here?” I asked, realizing they knew something. “You need me,” I said, sitting in the flowered chair with an annoyed thud.

  “What happened?” I asked, turning to Blake.

  “Gunner, he made a shocking discovery with the DNA samples,” Blake said, turning a wary eye to his Master.

  “Lovely, let’s go,” I said, standing.

  Morgan growled, “He will only talk to you.”

  “Huh, sounds like he’s smartening up nicely,” I said, smirking. “I’ll expect you all to be gone when I return or doing dishes.”

  Tate cleared his throat. “We have Gunner at my compound.”

  “You kidnapped him?” I said in disbelief. “I’m gone for less than a week, recovering from your fucked up plan to gain information, and you idiots kidnap one of the best resources you have found. Brilliant, just fucking brilliant. Not to mention you are under tight scrutiny. Well let’s go kidnapping vampires, lead on to the hostage,” I said, ushering them out.

  Blake grabbed my hand, holding me from following them out. “We’ll be right behind you,” he told them, not looking away from me.

  I waited until the door closed before asking, “You okay?” after which I silently yelled at myself for even giving a fuck.

  He nodded, smoothing back a wild strand of hair, worry clouding his features. “I could feel you, your pain, frustration, but I couldn’t find you,” he whispered. “Do not do that to me again.”

  I looked away. “I’ll try.”

  He pushed my chin up, his blue eyes searching my own dark green ones. “Don’t do it again. I don’t care if you shut the entire fucking world out, but not me.”

  I nodded, it wasn’t a promise I could make; some scars, some memories I could never share. He engulfed me in a hug and I couldn’t help the small sigh that left my lips, being back in his arms. After a brief kiss, we made our way out after the others.

  In the far
back seat of the SUV, I contemplated all that had happened. I had my mind hijacked by a dead shifter, someone was using dark magic to animate said shifters, I had been hired and fired as liaison between the police and the council. And who could forget about Steven? I hadn’t.

  Then there was Blake, a force I didn’t understand, and that worried me. I had built and maintained elaborate guards around my heart and emotions. Having another so potentially close to both was unnerving. The realistic part of me knew it wouldn’t last long; I was bound to screw it up one way or the other, but that blasted hope gave us a chance at happiness.

  I was stopped from entering the Centennial Compound due to my excessive weapons collection.

  “Sir,” the guard said uneasily to Tate, “she did just try to kill you.”

  “It was warranted,” I said loudly to everyone listening. “And furthermore, if I decide one of you or all of you need killing, I am perfectly capable of ripping off heads instead of slicing them.”

  “That was a bit over the top,” Mal whispered as I was ushered through.

  “Factual Mal, I deal in facts,” I answered, taking in the numerous vampire eyes watching our descent into the basement.

  More guards greeting us before we were allowed to see Gunnar; that is, before I was allowed to see Gunnar. I was assuming the rest were watching the plush underground living room from security cameras.

  “Hi, Gunnar,” I greeted the overweight genius, sitting down across from him on the paisley couch.

  He smiled meekly, his arms wrapped around a small terrified female. “They took us at dinner.”

  I nodded. “They’re assholes, interrupting a date”

  “She needs medication to control her social anxiety disorder,” he said, worriedly eyeballing my swords.

  I nodded, leaning forward. “I can help,” I said, reaching a hand out to her frail form. She flinched back.

  I smiled. “What’s your name?” I asked, keeping my hand out, non-threating.

  “Cricket,” she chirped, peeking at me around Gunnar’s massive arms.

  “Nothing is going to happen to you while I am here, Cricket. I guarantee it,” I reassured her, pushing all my confidence into those words.