Sere from the Green (The Shape Shifter Chronicles Book 1)

by Lauren Jankowski

“Look, could I just see last night’s intake form?” Isis asked as politely as she could manage. She felt like decking the infuriating man, who looked as though he just graduated from high school and acted in the same way.

  “Sure, as soon as I see some ID,” Redfield replied, smiling in a way that was meant to be flirtatious. Not if you were the last living thing on Earth, creep, Isis thought as she unclipped her ID badge and pulled a couple twenties out of her pocket, placing them under the badge, which she then slid across the desk in a smooth motion. Redfield barely glanced at the badge as he handed over the clipboard and pocketed the cash.

  “You didn’t get this from me,” he whispered, glancing around in a way that Isis assumed was meant to be suave. Christ, men are easy, she thought.

  “My lips are sealed,” Isis replied with a wink, watching as Redfield got up and strode back toward the room where the bodies were kept. Her smile vanished and she looked down to the blank form in front of her, her heart sinking.

  I’m losing my mind, Isis thought as she shook her head and rubbed her eyes. The M.E. was right, no bodies from the old factory last night. There were no names in the black grid lines. Had the whole thing been a hallucination? But what about the pictures? The thought of not being able to trust her mind or perception was terrifying to her.

  Isis suddenly felt claustrophobic and the smell of chemicals began to make her feel ill. She had to get out of the building, into fresh air. She wanted to breathe actual oxygen instead of whatever was recycled in the building. As she put the clipboard back on the sterile desktop, something caught her eye. Isis twisted her body and leaned down to get a closer look.

  It was so faint, she could’ve been imagining it, but there appeared to be phantom pen marks on the page. It looked like someone had been writing something else on another sheet of paper just on top of the blank sheet. Bryn Adams, 3 a.m., Isis mouthed, tilting her head a little to better make out the faint outlines. They seemed to be disappearing before her eyes.

  The sound of a drawer slamming caused her to jump. Glancing toward the back, Isis hurried across the slick tiles toward the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows of the door.

  Pulling the door open, Isis nearly walked into Steve as she stepped out into the revitalizing sunlight. Taking a few steps away from the door, she dropped her hands to her knees, almost doubling over. Her eyes were still stinging from the unnatural lighting inside the morgue and Isis wondered how the hell people could work in that place for extended periods of time.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Steve asked. Isis turned her head, almost having forgotten her friend was there. What was he hiding from her and why?

  “No,” she replied, straightening up again. Steve frowned as he watched her.

  “Isis, I’m not keeping anything from you,” he said in his gentle voice, sounding hurt. She swallowed and looked to where her car was parked. Being as cynical as she was, Isis tended to keep everyone at arm’s length, but Steve was one of the few people in her life who she allowed to be close to her and he had never given her a reason to mistrust him. The fact that he was lying hurt more than she was willing to let on.

  “Neither am I,” she responded, moving toward her car. She could practically feel Steve’s sad eyes following her every step. Pausing when she was halfway across the lot, Isis let out a long sigh. Dammit, I’m going to have to take the high road, she realized. There weren’t many people in her life and as much as she hated to admit it, Isis did need friends. She turned around and looked back to where he was still standing by the morgue door. A car pulled into a parking space nearby, just behind her.

  “Look, I have to get back to work before I’m fired. Again,” she called back to him. “I’ll call you later tonight, all right?”

  Steve nodded, a small grin playing across his face, and gave a short wave of parting. Isis turned back to continue on her way to her car and accidentally walked into the man who had just pulled into the parking space.

  “Sorry,” Isis mumbled the apology as she looked at the man, pausing. He looked mildly surprised with his hands held out, probably because she had just walked into him. He stood a little less than a head taller than her and had a full head of black hair. The man was clean-shaven and had the clearest blue-green eyes Isis had ever seen. There was something else though, something almost familiar . . .

  The stranger nodded with a slight smile, accepting the apology, and stepped around her as he continued toward the morgue.

  “Um, kind of a weird question,” Isis began hesitantly, her voice stopping the stranger in his steps. He twisted a little so that he was looking at her again. “Have we met before?”

  The stranger paused for a moment, then smiled amicably and shook his head. “No. I don’t believe so.”

  Isis frowned, either in disappointment or confusion, she wasn’t sure which. I’m having a very strange day, she thought.

  “That’s a pretty charm,” the man commented, drawing her out of her thoughts. Isis looked up at him and he gestured to the emerald at her throat. “Looks very lucky.”

  She smiled, but it felt forced. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and watched as she turned back to her car. Isis was so bewildered by the odd chain of events that she didn’t notice the man talking with Steve as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It was a typical quiet night for the small hospital in town. A heavy antiseptic smell hung in the air, the kind that burned the nostrils and lingered on the tongue. Shades of blue were scattered throughout the entire hospital and even the lights seemed to have a blue tint. Doctors and nurses rushed around through the unnaturally bright halls, blurs of blues and whites and pinks and greens. Every now and again, the intercom system would crackle to life, calling for a doctor or nurse to report to various destinations. The waiting area, normally filled with stone-faced people waiting for news of a loved one or patients in need of care, was now empty save for one man who paced the hall like a big cat in a cage.

  Jet walked back and forth, running his hands through his thick black hair, messing it up beyond its usual untidiness. His dark-colored clothing stuck out in the brightly lit hallway. The walls had become a blur as he quickened his pacing, yet his powerful gait remained silent. The night’s events raced through his mind and he would have given anything for his wife, Lilly, to be there with him. But she was needed elsewhere.

  Jet pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, unable to wait anymore. He had to get answers and doing nothing was going to drive him mad. Dialing the number he knew by heart, Jet pressed send and waited as the phone rang. Tapping a knuckle against the wall, Jet struggled not to fidget too much.

  “Jet?” Remington’s soothing Irish brogue filtered through the receiver. For a moment, Jet was tempted to snap at him for taking so long to answer the phone. However, it had been a long night and Jet knew his nerves were frayed. Yelling at his long-time trainer wasn’t going to help anybody.

  “Any word on Jade?” Jet asked, glancing around to make sure he was alone. The hall was still empty, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

  “Nothing yet, but I expect to be hearing from her in another few minutes. And before you ask, yes, Lilly is still with her,” Remington replied, his tone compassionate. Jet sometimes wondered if the ancient shape shifter was telepathic. He always seemed to know what was on Jet’s mind. Jet’s father had once told him that Remington was the best protector when it came to reading people. It was a skill the trainer had taught to his adopted daughter, Alex.

  “I need you to come down here,” Jet said. “I haven’t gotten word from Dr. Gavin yet, so I assume the bodies are still in transport to the hospital morgue. I just need you to wait here and make arrangements.”

  There was a brief pause and Jet could practically hear Remington’s puzzlement. “If you’re already down there, why can’t you take care of it?”

  “Because there’s something else I need to do,” Jet replied, working out a scri
pt in his mind. He glanced behind him when he heard a quiet squeaking, noticing a janitor in a drab uniform roll a dirty yellow bucket with the handle of his mop. He kept his eyes on the floor as he put up yellow plastic warning signs. Glancing up, the man tipped his hat in Jet’s direction. Jet gave him a half-nod, acknowledging the greeting.

  “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what this mysterious errand is.” Remington’s questions usually sounded like statements, especially when he saw right through a lie.

  “I have to meet with someone who might have answers about what happened tonight,” Jet replied, being vague. He kept his eyes on the janitor, watching the methodical motion of the mop as it slid across the floor.

  “I see. This someone wouldn’t happen to be a woman with unclear loyalties who delights in getting a rise out of you?” Remington asked with his typical dryness. If he hadn’t been so worn out, Jet would’ve grimaced at the tone.

  “Remington, will you please just come down here as soon as possible?” Jet requested, already exhausted. “Please don’t make me order you to do so.”

  Remington sighed. “Very well. I’ll have Alex leave Lilly a note.”

  “Thank you,” Jet responded. He disconnected the call before Remington had a chance to follow up with any kind of “keep a level-head” type of caution. Jet stuck his hands in his pockets and moved toward the sliding glass doors that he had entered through.

  It was a pain in the neck any time a shape shifter wound up in the hospital. They had to make sure they were in a safe zone, meaning at least one member of the staff knew about shape shifters or actually was one. Then there was concern about the various tests. It was even worse on the rare occasions that a shape shifter died and was taken to a hospital. It was extremely difficult for an ally to get the body released without an autopsy. However, it was of the utmost importance that the body was not brought to a morgue. Shape shifters, being immortal, had an instinctive dislike of death. Jet and Lilly had yet to find a shape shifter willing to work in the office of the medical examiner. Because of this, they lacked any contacts within the morgue, which was a disaster waiting to happen.

  Jet slipped out into the cool night and glanced around. There were very few cars around, which wasn’t unusual given the time, and everything was lit in strange shades of orange and black. The air was chilly and clouds drifted over the moon, making the night even darker. Jet shivered and hurried on his way, heading for a nearby forest.

  When he got out of the glow of streetlights, he looked around once more to make sure he wasn’t being watched. Once certain he was completely alone, the bones in his body began to change shape. His body lengthened while his limbs alternately grew and shrunk to keep up with the changing body. Within thirty seconds, a silver wolf stood in Jet’s place. He shook himself and took off, loping toward the large forest that his elusive contact called home.

  *~*~*~*~*

  The night continued on and the forest was darker than the town. But it was also more tranquil, even peaceful. None of the noise of civilization touched the depths of the forest, which was exactly how Jet’s contact liked it.

  Jet sniffed the ground as he prowled through the enormous trees, anger making his vision flash red. He knew Sly was in the forest somewhere. She always was, lurking somewhere in the shadows.

  Sly was a shape shifter and a good informant. The problem lay with her loyalties: she had always been on her own side, doing only what benefitted her. She was never seen unless she wanted to be, and very little was known about her. At one time she’d been a friend to Jet, but that had been many, many years ago. Times changed, and so did shape shifters. He didn’t trust Sly anymore, despite some protectors’ attempts to defend her to him. Sly didn’t appreciate others attempting to speak for her anyway.

  He continued on, still haunted by the night’s events. A swishing noise in the treetops ripped him out of his thoughts. Looking up, he saw a large brown speckled owl watching him with enormous ring-shaped yellow eyes. Its beak clicked as it hooted before flapping its enormous wings and flying away; disappearing into the night. Jet shifted from wolf to human again and looked around. I must be in the middle of the forest by now, he thought

  “Sly!” he called, not worrying about being overheard. “Sly, I know you’re here. I know you know what happened. I’m not in the mood for games tonight!”

  The ominous forest remained silent save for the fading echo of Jet’s voice. Minutes passed with no sign of the elusive Sly and Jet contemplated giving up. He didn’t have the patience to wait for her to make an appearance.

  “Must be your lucky night, protector. Normally I don’t respond to grown men throwing temper tantrums,” a quiet sultry voice came from behind him.

  Jet turned around to familiar piercing emerald eyes. Sly casually leaned against a tree with her arms crossed over her chest, unbothered by his tone. Her soft black hair was streaked with moonlight. He could only see her face clearly in the shadows, dark clothing concealing the rest of her. Jet sometimes wondered where his mysterious informant acquired her apparel, since he only ever saw her in the forest and knew of her strong aversion toward humans. Damn things are like irrational self-destructive cockroaches, she had once told him.

  Sly combined her beauty with intelligence and physical skill and used both to her advantage, having a well-deserved reputation for being as clever as she was lethal. Jet didn’t like talking with her and he definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with her. He stormed over, making sure to step right into her personal space. Sly smiled up at him, though he could tell she wasn’t thrilled with having him so close. It wasn’t something he’d normally do, but after the night he’d had, he didn’t feel like being toyed with.

  “Temper, temper. Threats make me quiet, Jet. And with this sudden increase in violence . . . well, you don’t know what I might be inspired to do,” Sly cautioned, an underlying threat in her calm tone. She didn’t show any traces of fear. Jet knew he was always at a disadvantage when talking to her; she knew him like the back of her hand and that he would never hurt her. Any threat he tried would be empty.

  “Did you have anything to do with what happened tonight?” Jet hissed through his teeth, fists clenching at his sides.

  Sly leaned forward slightly so that her face was inches from his, a small grin playing across her features. “Threats make me quiet.”

  Jet glared at her as he took a step back so he stood just outside her personal space, fully prepared to step back in it should she try to walk away. She continued to smile, her sleek body losing some of its tenseness.

  “I’m not asking again,” Jet warned. Sly glanced around, closing her eyes briefly and inhaled through her nose. Opening her eyes again, she turned back toward him.

  “Were you swimming in rubbing alcohol? You reek,” Sly said, grimacing in disgust.

  “Sly,” Jet warned, attempting not to raise his voice. Sly didn’t like being yelled at and would walk away if he yelled.

  “No,” Sly answered, looking up to the moon, unbothered.

  “No what?” he barked the question and she rolled her eyes back to him.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened tonight, Jet, and even you’re not dense enough to believe otherwise. Much as I dislike our human neighbors, I dislike separatists even more. Besides that, it’s not in my best interest to wage war against the protectors,” Sly responded in an uninterested tone. “Especially not when one of my lovers is counted among your people. How is Jade, by the way?”

  “Last I heard, Jade was being treated by guardian healers,” Jet answered.

  “Figures,” Sly said, glancing at her fingernails. “Any other questions you care to snarl at me tonight?”

  “Who was behind the attack? And don’t even try telling me you don’t know because we both know that’s unlikely,” Jet said sharply, struggling to keep the images of that night’s debacle at bay. He knew he would be sick if he remembered the blood, the sounds in his earpiece. It was too much for Jet at the moment. />
  “I saw what you did, Jet. Onyx appeared to be the responsible party. We’re both aware of the rumors that someone is making a play for Adara’s territory. Sending out Onyx to kill two protectors — fairly well-known ones at that — was a show of strength, a message not to mess with her,” Sly responded as she moved to walk away. “Contrary to what you believe, assassins don’t consult me about their politics and hierarchies. Have Jade call the Rebel Lair and leave a message with Alpha when she’s all healed up and recovered.”

  Jet swiftly stepped around her, blocking her way, and she smirked at him. It was a risky move, since she was the more capable fighter. But Jet knew it wasn’t in her best interests to get into a physical altercation with one of the leaders of the protectors.

  “How did they know we’d be there?” Jet demanded, sick and tired of her games. Her thin smile remained as she crossed her arms over her chest again and tilted her head, studying him.

  “Why do you come to me for answers even though you don’t trust me?” she asked, her tone almost playful.

  “I asked you a question,” Jet said.

  “And I answered your question, now I want an answer,” Sly was quick to respond. “You don’t trust me, yet you continue to come to me for answers and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

  “Because you’re the only one who has them,” Jet responded gruffly as he glanced out into the darkened forest. Sly shook her head once, amusement dancing across her face.

  “Now we both know that’s not true,” she replied to Jet’s lame answer. “And I know I’m not the protectors’ favorite individual, so you also risk your reputation by coming to me for information, not to mention Lilly’s. I want to know why.”

  “You’re the most accurate,” Jet answered, his tone telling Sly that was the only answer she’d get out of him. “Now, how did they know we were going to be there?”

  Sly continued to stare at him, no emotion or answer evident on her face. Jet was getting frustrated, which was melting into anger.