Jet glanced up at the stories surrounding him, wondering what his would look like. All these leaders had been valiant shape shifters with well-honed battle skills, knowledgeable in diplomacy and politics. Though he came from the same lines as most of them, Jet frequently questioned if he could match their valor. Could he achieve the impossible if called upon to do so? Tonight was certainly a reason to doubt his abilities.
He stopped at a particular tapestry — his favorite. A radiant woman stood proud and tall, clothed in a shimmering dress of silver and black, splattered with blood. She was unaffected by the battle raging around her and the bodies of her fallen enemies lay at her bare feet. She wielded a pair of elegantly crafted knives and a glowing aura shimmered about her, giving her an almost otherworldly appearance. There was both rage and grief in her bright silver blue eyes. Selene, the beloved guardian of stars, was truly a vision of magnificence. It was said that she brightened whatever place she entered and she was thought to have been the most beautiful being to ever walk the Earth or the Meadows. No one — human, guardian, or shape shifter — had yet matched her beauty or her bravery. Passion’s daughter, Electra, was said to look similar to her, and as Jet studied the tapestry he could see why.
Jet sighed after a moment, his shoulders slumping as he scrubbed his hand over his eyes. Selene had disappeared long ago, never to be seen again. At least, that was how the legend went. Both shape shifters and guardians searched high and low for Selene, but it was as if she had just vanished. Jet couldn’t help but wonder if that was one of the reasons Passion was reluctant to let her other daughter enter the life she was destined for.
“If you can hear me, Selene, I could really use some advice right now,” Jet murmured to the picture. It was an age-old tradition shared among guardians and protectors: in times of strife or doubt, they would ask Selene for guidance. Selene’s blank eyes just continued to stare straight ahead. Jet didn’t usually talk to the pictures — he believed it to be utterly ridiculous and completely pointless, but he didn’t know whom else to turn to.
“I’m pretty sure she would tell you that talking to tapestry won’t do much good,” a familiar voice came from behind him. Jet smiled and turned, looking in the direction of the voice.
Jade was reclining on the stairs, watching him with her sultry brown eyes. Her dark wavy hair was down, something she rarely did. She was wearing a dark blue nightshirt that just skimmed her thighs, leaving her long legs bare.
“I didn’t see you there,” Jet mentioned as he approached the winding stairway. She nodded, glancing off to the side.
“Kinda figured that when you came into the hall with your back toward me,” Jade replied with a hint of teasing.
“Are you all right? I didn’t know if—”
“I’m fine, Jet. Good as new, guardian healers know how to do their jobs,” she interrupted, her dark eyes turning back to him. “Were you able to retrieve the others?”
“Remington isn’t back yet?”
“I haven’t seen him. Why? What’s wrong?”
Odd. I would’ve thought he’d be back by now, Jet thought as he scratched the back of his head. Jade watched him, resting her weight on one elbow.
“I heard you talked to Sly,” she mentioned, interrupting his thoughts. “Jet, did you kill my lover?”
“No. I knew if I did, I’d have to answer to you,” Jet quipped and Jade snickered.
“Fairly certain Alpha would beat me to the punch,” Jade corrected with a weak smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Jet chuckled and dropped his gaze again, unsure what else to say.
“It’s not over, is it?” she asked, but it sounded more like a statement. Jade was much older than she looked and quite experienced. She rarely asked questions and when she did, they sounded more like statements.
Jet shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Sly is right about one thing: as much as I dislike Adara and her line of work, she does keep things stable among the assassins. I prefer to deal with an evil I know rather than one I don’t.”
Jade brushed some hair behind her ear, swallowing.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked after a moment. Jet stared at her in surprise; her loyalty never ceased to amaze him.
“You still trust me, even after what happened tonight?” Jet said, trying to keep the astonishment out of his voice. Jade shrugged and spread her hands as if to say obviously.
“Not like you pulled the trigger,” she replied. “We knew the danger going in. Blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault isn’t a productive use of my time. So, what do you need me to do?”
“It can wait until tomorrow,” Jet answered with a small smile. “Get some rest.”
Jade nodded and rose to her feet. “Lilly’s upstairs, by the way. She’s probably asleep by now.”
“Thank you,” Jet replied, his tone implying that he meant for more than the relayed information. Jade smiled, a thin melancholy gesture, and continued up the stairs, disappearing around a bend in the hall on the next floor.
Jet glanced down the main hall. Everything could wait until tomorrow. It had been a long night and he was exhausted. He climbed up the winding stairs that Jade had been resting on, moving up to the second floor and proceeded down the dimly lit hallways until he reached the door to the master bedroom. As quietly as he could, Jet pushed down the handle and opened the door.
The room was dark and the windows were open, letting in the cool night air. Jet looked to the left and could just barely make out his wife’s slender form on the bed. Lilly was laying with her back to the door, her golden hair shimmering like gossamer in the pale moonlight. Jet closed the door behind him and moved to the bed. After emptying his pockets and putting the contents on the small table next to the bed, he carefully sat on the edge of the mattress, reached down, and began to untie his shoes.
“Do you want to talk?” Lilly’s soft voice brushed against his ear. Jet kicked off his shoes and got under the thin covers, wrapping an arm around her waist as she curled up against his chest. He breathed in her sweet scent as he kissed her forehead.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered. He felt her nod against him and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would not elude him. Lilly began to hum a quiet tune and Jet soon fell into a peaceful sleep.
*~*~*~*~*
Jet groaned when the shrill ring of a phone broke through his sleep. He turned over and groaned again when the harsh sunlight beat against his eyelids. His hand fumbled around the smooth wooden surface of his night table, clumsily searching for the source of the ringing. He knocked over the lamp before finally finding the phone. Jet picked up the thin device and resisted the strong urge to throw it across the room. He squinted as he brought the phone to his ear, glancing over at the numbers of his clock. It was six-thirty in the morning. He’d been asleep for less than three hours.
“Wha?” Jet managed groggily as he tried to force his eyes to remain open.
“We’ve got a problem,” Remington’s voice filtered through. It’s too damn early for someone to be that awake, Jet thought as he rolled onto his back. He still couldn’t understand how his wife could get up almost every morning to watch the sun rise. Jet had never been a day person and the concept baffled him.
“Mmhm,” he mumbled, running a hand over his sleep-mussed hair.
“Wake up, Jet,” Remington ordered in his stern voice. Jet rubbed his eyes, restraining himself from making the smart aleck remark that he wanted to.
“M’awake,” he argued, trying to force the sleep from his rough voice. “Wha’s the problem?”
“Bryn’s body isn’t here. It’s at the morgue.”
Jet’s eyes snapped open and he sat straight up, all traces of sleep leaving him in an instant. “What? How?”
“I—”
“Never mind. I’ll meet you at the morgue in an hour,” Jet responded as he swung his legs over the end of the bed. He disconnected the call and quickly set about putting his shoes on, mentally swearing the entire time. Of all the thing
s that could’ve happened, this was the worst. Jet only hoped they would be able to remedy the situation before any permanent harm was done.
CHAPTER THREE
Isis sat alone in her small apartment, staring at her open laptop. The only illumination was the blue pendant light above her head. Slowly scrolling through the empty pictures, Isis squinted as she pulled one up. A single spiral filled with hastily scribbled notes sat off to the side, forgotten for the moment. It had been a few days since the incident at the warehouse and she still hadn’t found any answers about what had happened.
Isis leaned back and rubbed her neck with one hand, closing her stinging eyes. Another dead end; everything was just countless dead ends. She had tried searching the name Bryn Adams, but that had yielded absolutely nothing useful. Isis wasn’t prone to believing in conspiracy theories. However, the whole situation was just so bizarre.
She glanced up when a flash of lightning lit up the sky outside. Shortly afterward, there was a distant rumble of thunder. It had been a stormy overcast day — which hadn’t done wonders for her already bad mood. Shaking her head, Isis turned her attention back to the bright laptop screen.
“What am I missing?” she softly asked herself as she ran her fingers through her hair. “What am I missing? What am I missing?”
She clicked on another photograph and stared at it for a moment. Frowning, she leaned closer to the screen, squinting. Isis had already ruled out some kind of camera malfunction; that wouldn’t cause only one or two things to vanish entirely. Besides, it didn’t explain the disappearing body, and she was certain that had not been some kind of hallucination. Isis leaned back again and tilted her chair, running her hands over her face and through her hair.
“I’m going insane,” she muttered. “I am actually losing my damn mind.”
A sudden knocking on the door yanked her out of her racing thoughts. She looked over her shoulder. Another knock sounded and Isis cautiously got to her feet. She was not expecting anybody. Isis reached over to the counter, where she had placed a baseball bat.
Moving through the dark apartment, Isis stepped around whatever little furniture she had. She had always had good night vision and rarely ever bumped into something, even when her surroundings were completely dark. The few times she had been dragged into haunted houses — usually by her annoyingly upbeat cousin, Shae — Isis had always been able to see perfectly in her darkened surroundings and could usually see where the next scare was going to come from. Isis rolled her eyes when she remembered that she had not called Shae since the incident at the rave, which landed her in the emergency room. That’s going to cost me, she thought as she raised the baseball bat into a two-handed clutch and prepared to swing should the person at the door decide to try kicking it in.
“Who is it?” she called. There was quiet for a moment.
“Put down whatever weapon you’re holding, Isis,” Steve’s weary voice filtered through the door. Isis frowned and lowered the bat, holding it in a one-handed grip again.
“Steve? Aren’t you working a double shift?” Isis asked, tightening her grip on the bat and looking around for any indication of the time. She had been so absorbed in the pictures that she had lost track of everything else.
“What are you—?” The disbelief in Steve’s voice almost made her smile. “Isis, that’s tomorrow.”
Isis moved to the door, peering out through the peephole. Steve was standing there with his hands in his pocket, looking completely worn out. The increase in work was obviously taking its toll. She removed the chain from the door, twisted the deadbolt, and pulled the door open. Blinking rapidly, Isis raised a hand before her eyes and grimaced at the assault of the bright hallway lights.
“Before you say anything, I’m sorry,” Steve said before she had a chance to speak. Isis frowned and opened her mouth to ask what he meant when Shae stepped into view from where she had been leaning against the wall, next to the door. Her auburn hair shimmered in the light and she smiled widely. Isis struggled not to roll her eyes, not really in the mood to deal with a hopeless optimist.
“Hey Ice Queen, heard you got canned … again,” Shae greeted in her typical friendly manner, craning her neck as she peered over Isis’ shoulder. “Uh oh. Are you in your dark place? Are we going to have to take shifts?”
She moved around Isis and stepped inside before her cousin could protest, flipping on the light switch and illuminating most of the main area of the apartment. Isis turned furious green eyes on Steve and shook the baseball bat at him. He spread his hands, the guilty expression never leaving his face. She nodded over her shoulder and he scurried inside. Isis closed the door behind them and twisted the deadbolt again, sliding the chain back into place. Shae pulled out a small compact from her purse, and began applying a rose-colored lipstick.
“What is it with you and locks?” Shae asked, not looking up from the mirror as she smacked her painted lips, closing the compact again. “Honestly Isis, have you ever been in an unlocked room for any measurable amount of time?”
Isis leaned the bat against the door and turned to face her cousin, who was putting the lipstick and mirror back in her small purse. “Shae, it’s been a really bad week. Could we maybe not do this?”
Shae smiled as she placed her purse on the small coffee table and flopped on the couch, kicking off her fashionable shoes. “Yeah, Steve filled me in on the way up. I swear, Isis, you’re the only photojournalist who could get fired in the middle of a crime spree. What is this, your fourth job?”
“My third and I’m only suspended. It’s not even my fault,” Isis replied as she moved to a nearby chair.
“Neither were the other incidents,” Shae pointed out, causing Isis to glare at her.
“To be fair, the reasons given for her firing at the second job were rather shady,” Steve mentioned. “However, this time was kind of your fault, Isis.”
“Bodies don’t just disappear into thin air! And I didn’t appreciate the editor being a patronizing ass!” Isis snapped, feeling defensive.
Shae whistled and shook her head. “Sweetie, when are you going to learn? You have to get along with people, or at least make an effort to do so.”
Isis flopped into the chair next to the couch and put a hand over her eyes, uninterested in participating in an argument. Raising her hand, she studied Shae, noticing her moderately fancy clothing. Her cousin had always had great fashion sense, but she looked even more dressed up than usual.
“Going to some high society function or are you just doing that weird thing where you dress up for absolutely no reason?” Isis asked.
“Planning on going out to a club later on,” Shae replied with a wicked smile. “I don’t feel like going to bed alone tonight.”
“Well, happy hunting, I guess,” Isis said as she reclined back in the chair and stretched her arms over her head. Shae laughed as she got up from the couch and wandered over toward the kitchen table, leaning down to look at the still open laptop.
“What’s this?” she asked curiously as she scrolled through the pictures, enlarging one.
“The reason why I was fired.” Isis suddenly snapped her fingers and sat up. “Shae, you’re into all that supernatural bullshit. Would you know of anything that could make a body vanish without a trace?”
“Okay, first of all, I’m not into all that supernatural bullshit as you so eloquently put it,” Shae began without looking away from the picture. “Second, no, I don’t know of anything that would make a body disappear. Is that what this whole thing is about?”
Isis looked over at Steve, who was leaning his elbows on the counter and looking toward the laptop. As if sensing her eyes on him, Steve looked to her and met her gaze. He spread his hands again and turned his attention back to the table, drawing Shae’s attention.
“I’m sorry, Isis,” he said. Shae looked from him to Isis, her interest piqued.
“What am I missing?” she asked with a half-smile.
Isis got out of the chair and approached
her cousin. “There were a bunch of cops at the old factory that night, including our dear Steve here. However, none of them remember a damn thing. Or so they claim. I tend to take the word of the police with a grain of salt, as you know.”
“Whoa, that’s creepy,” Shae said as she turned her eyes back to the pictures. Creepy doesn’t even begin to describe it, Isis thought as she followed Shae’s gaze to the strange pictures. All the empty pictures, where there should’ve been a body. Lightning flashed again and Steve looked toward the windows, his brow furrowing.
“So, did you two stop by just to lecture me about my antisocial ways?” Isis asked, placing her hands on her hips.
“No,” Shae replied, turning her back to the laptop and leaning against the table. “I was coming to yell at you for not calling to tell me you had recently been in the hospital.”
“It wasn’t a big deal, Shae. They didn’t even keep me overnight,” Isis shot back, glancing over to Steve when he moved toward the windows. Damn Steve. He’s worse than a high school cheerleader, she thought.
“Only because there weren’t enough available beds,” Steve countered, distracted. “And your cousin was being stubborn and demanding to be released. It was basically against the advice of the doctors.”
“I was lucky enough to catch Steve on his way in,” Shae explained, glancing behind her to Steve before looking back to Isis. “Got any wine?”
I wish, Isis thought as she shook her head. Shae looked disappointed as she wandered back into the main room. Isis ran her fingers through her smooth hair, her attention wandering to where Steve was peering out of the blinds. Isis looked around the apartment, wondering who had chosen the impossibly light shade of blue that coated the walls. It was so bland — it reminded her of the walls in the emergency room. She preferred more dramatic colors and would have repainted had she planned on remaining in the place for an extended amount of time.
Sere from the Green (The Shape Shifter Chronicles Book 1) Page 5