by Kayla Wolf
Gritting her teeth, Lisa returned to her desk, flipped her laptop open, and set to work.
She ought to have been grateful, she supposed – most of the emails she had to wade through were from potential clients. The problem with new clients, though, was that they talked a lot about themselves – how great they were, how baffled they were that they hadn't been able to find love, a lot of defensive 'I don't usually do this sort of thing' content. In such a big city, people were embarrassed that they hadn't found The One on their own. Lisa channeled a lot of her energy into making her services seem like something everyone took advantage of. That wasn't the case, of course – not yet. But it would be if she had her way.
She spent a resolute few hours chopping away at the inbox, but by the time it got around to ten, she could feel herself losing interest in the seventh story that day of a sad single woman in the big city. Being on your own isn't sad, it's brilliant, she wanted to write back. Nobody holding you down, tying you up, taking your time and energy and giving you nothing back... she'd been on her own for four years, and in that time, she'd moved to New York, bought an apartment and started a business. Being single was powerful.
But of course, if she wrote that to every new client, she'd be out of business in a month. So she finished tweaking her form response, hit send, then grabbed her coat. She'd slipped her feet into her running shoes already. Down to the corner for some brunch, then a quick forty-five minutes around the park and back to work. Bliss. Perfect Tuesday. And the weather was actually seeming semi-decent today – maybe it'd be a nice walk home. At least her apartment was reasonably close to her office. Terrible little hole in the wall that it was (and almost as exorbitantly expensive as her office) but she was grateful to have it.
Halfway down the stairs (the lift in her building had been broken for God knew how long – probably since before it was built, if the dust on the sign was any indication) her phone rang.
“Mom, impeccable timing.” She grinned, continuing down the stairs with the phone to her ear.
“Just checking you haven't starved on the street yet,” her mom's voice came down the line, crackly but full of her characteristic dry wit. Lisa laughed – her mother had made a similar phone call at least once every few days for the last four years.
“Just heading out for some breakfast now.”
“Don't get mugged.” She was joking, but there was an undercurrent of serious warning in Sarah Harrison's voice. They didn't talk about it much – Sarah had promised not to fuss when Lisa told her she was making the move to New York in exchange for a solemn promise to be honest if something did go wrong – but Lisa knew her mother worried about her. So she didn't mind a phone call or two. It was nice to hear from home now and again.
“Are you on the road yet?”
“You know your father.” Eric Harrison had never gotten up later than 6am in his life, it seemed to Lisa. Even on Christmas mornings, she and her brothers had never beaten him down to the tree. Lisa listened close, heard the tell-tale roar of traffic down the phone line.
“Have fun camping.”
“Wish you were here.”
“Me too, a little. Swing by New York on your way home?”
“Oh sure.”
“Text me when you leave, I'll put some coffee on.”
They laughed and chatted as Lisa made her way up the streets to the cafe she liked – all-day breakfast, and the guys there knew her order by now. She said goodbye to her mom on the way in, and, distracted by fond thoughts of home, nearly dropped her phone when a man with bright green hair bumped into her. Hard.
“Hey, watch it!” she objected. People from Colorado tended not to pick fights in coffee shops over easy mistakes to make, but Lisa was beginning to adopt a certain assertiveness in public spaces. She'd had too many experiences now where politeness was interpreted as weakness – mostly in the form of boring men talking her ear off at parties, but she knew it could and did get worse. She was only five foot six, and heels could only do so much. Best to cultivate angry energy to dissuade at least a few of the predators out there.
This guy wasn't having a bar of it, though. Weird tension in his body – he kept looking out after his friends, a man and a woman Lisa could just see disappearing around the corner of the shop. Where were they going? That alley was a dead end, she knew from trying to run down it to get to the next block. Nothing but sheer brick walls. Unless you were Spiderman, there was nothing for you down there.
Leave it alone, Lisa. Could be a fight, could be a drug deal, could be all manner of things you don't want any part of. She gave the guy a dismissive shrug and headed to the counter to order her brunch. Headed for the back of the cafe, where she knew a screen door to the alley let in a pleasant breeze that dispelled a bit of the clammy heat of the un-airconditioned space. Hey, they had to cut costs somewhere to offer such good deals on their food.
Lisa took a deep, appreciative sip of her coffee and scrolled idly through her phone. Her company socials were doing fine, but she liked to helicopter parent – she'd noticed a big upswing in contacts when she started replying to every comment made on her ads. Even the jokes and the trolls. Especially the jokes and the trolls. Her father would be delighted to know that she was using her smart mouth for something productive – if she could ever get him to understand even the basics of what Facebook was.
Chuckling to herself at the memory of his most recent effort – a multi-paragraph letter about what the family was getting up to, posted as a comment on a group photo a friend had tagged her in – Lisa waited for her food and scrolled through Pinterest.
But it wasn't long before the unmistakable sound of a fight pulled her out of her reverie.
Chapter 3 – Alexander
“So you know what I am,” Alexander said, voice as low and threatening as he could make it. The hubbub of the cafe was enough to stop his voice being overheard by anyone – at any rate, it seemed as though the danger had already found him. Stupid, to wander freely around without thinking of the consequences. There was precious little unclaimed territory left. In the civilized world, at least. His family had had their claim on the Rocky Mountains staked out for hundreds of years. The idea of a stranger waltzing in and wandering around – well, they wouldn't last long, that was for certain.
“Oh, yes.” The woman's eyes were gleaming as though she could hear what he was thinking.
“What do you know about us?”
“That you need to get the fuck outta here, pal,” the green-haired man hissed, speaking for the first time. Where his brother's voice was harsh and guttural, like a dog barking, his was more insidious – it seemed to insinuate itself into Alexander's ears like a serpent. “Our land. Our territory. You can't just waltz in here —”
“I have no interest in your territory.”
“Sure you don't,” the woman scoffed, eyes glinting. “Best hunting ground in the country. Millions of people here every day, and a reputation for violence that means nobody thinks twice about mysterious deaths and injuries? Any pack on the planet would kill for this place.”
“And we did,” growled the bald man, Jace, his jaw clenching and unclenching with the force of the rage he was controlling. “Killed and killed and killed.”
“We outnumber you. We've got a home ground advantage. Tangling with us is the worst mistake you could make,” the woman added. He could see the tension in her shoulders, in the way her hands were clutching the edge of the table. For all their braggadocio, these three were wary. Even outnumbering him three to one, they were scared of him. That gave him confidence.
“That's all fine. Again, I'm not interested in your territory. I'm here to find something. Once I find it, I'll be on my way. But by all means, keep on threatening me. It's cute.” He let his eyes flash gold, just once – the woman picked it up, and her spine stiffened. In response, silver crackled over the surface of her slate-gray eyes like lightning. The two men inhaled sharply, and he sensed rather than saw their eyes light up too.
; “Really? Here?” Alexander asked, putting as much scorn into his voice as possible. “You want to shift here, break a peace we've kept for a thousand years, all because you can't handle a visitor?”
“Visitors are invited,” the woman snapped. “You're an intruder, lizard. What's your name, anyway?”
“What's yours?”
“You're talking to Shrike, Jax's second-in-command and the toughest bitch this side of the Atlantic,” Jace hissed. “And you'll show some fuckin' respect.”
“Shrike. A pleasure.” It was hard to be intimidating in this ridiculous body, but he gave it his best shot – sat up straight, broadened his shoulders, narrowed his eyes. “I'm Alexander. First in command. King, if we're being official about it. And I'll offer respect where respect is due. So far, all I've seen is an undisciplined gaggle of shifters who've spent too much time on two legs.”
“Oh, you're saying you're better than us because you can hardly remember how a human face is meant to look?” Jace snapped, his anger seething.
“It's called camouflage, scaly. Adapt. Overcome,” his brother growled. There was silver snaking across the surface of their eyes. They were losing control. Shrike could tell as much as he could, and he saw her clench her jaw in frustration.
“Having trouble keeping your troops in line, Shrike?” he asked casually. “I could give you a few tips if you'd like. Leadership's not an easy gig —”
“Listen, lizard —”
“Listen, mutt,” he cut across her, low and angry. “You have been intolerably rude to a member of a lineage that goes back to before your kind was even dreamed of. It's a sign of my incredible good grace that I haven't killed all three of you, but as I've said, I am only passing through. I mean no trouble, I mean no threat, and I mean no inconvenience – but you three have made it abundantly clear that you have no diplomacy whatsoever, so any more time spent on you is a waste, and I am not interested in wasting my time. Your leader has insulted me by sending you. Now leave me be.”
“Oh, you want to talk to Jax, is that it?” Shrike growled, her eyes beginning to glow. Were her fingernails longer than they had been earlier? This was almost too easy. “Bad idea, buddy. Bad, bad idea.”
“Go and get someone with real power or leave me alone. Go on.” He smiled. “Fetch.”
Jace and the green-haired man both rocketed to their feet – there was a brief lull in the busy clamor of the cafe around them. Shrike made a sound in her throat, low and menacing, and they both tensed – then slowly and reluctantly, they sat back down. Alexander waited.
“He's outside,” Shrike said finally, her voice full of seething fury. “In the alley.”
“Excellent. Take me to him.”
Stiffly, Shrike led them to the door of the cafe. Alexander nodded to the bemused man behind the counter, suppressing the urge to smile. It had been a long time since he'd interacted with other shifters – it felt good to get the upper hand so effortlessly. He strode past Shrike through the door of the cafe, hearing Jace almost collide with some passerby entering the cafe, and headed around the corner to the alley the woman had indicated. It was good to make your authority clear to the staff – he'd be more polite with the leader, of course. He wasn't here to start up any more wars. But he also wasn't here to be disrespected.
He strode down the alley. Jax must be at the end, past where the alley turned. Lingering behind the building – fair enough, too. Lesser shifters, especially the more powerful ones, tended not to be so good at maintaining a believable size. Even in their human forms, they looked wrong. Tended to draw attention. Better to keep out of view of foot traffic, especially on a busy street like this one. Alexander rounded the corner, walked to the end of the alley – but even the space behind the bins was empty. Nothing but sheer brick walls and some empty cardboard boxes. Where was Jax?
Unless —
Alexander realized his mistake at the same time as Shrike's laughter echoed down the alley towards him. She and her men had spread out across the mouth of the alley, cornering him behind the building and out of sight of the street. Even the whites of their eyes were eclipsed by silver now, glowing slightly in the light. Alexander glanced left and right, beginning to realize how dire the situation was.
“We were delighted you chose this cafe,” Shrike purred, and her voice was altered, grinding and hoarse, as strange shifting movements rippled across her skin. “It's one of our favorites, isn't it, boys?”
“Especially the alley.”
“Especially the alley! Nice and hidden, a complete dead end... and no room for anyone bigger than us.”
Alexander ground his teeth in frustration. If he shifted, he'd be worse off than even in this puny human form – he could tell that the walls were too close to accommodate him. He'd be pinned, hopelessly trapped. His only choice was to fight them in this form, and hope that the height he had on them was enough to overcome how profoundly outnumbered he was. But it had been decades – maybe even centuries – since he'd been in this body for any length of time, and more to the point, he'd never had to fight in it. In the mountains, space was never a consideration. At any hint of trouble, he could just shift.
Shrike lunged at him first, impossibly fast, lashed out at his face with her long black nails. Not the polish he'd observed humans using, though it looked like it – these were claws, proper claws, and sharp enough to leave a gash on his cheek even though he tried to dodge back. She crowed, spun and drove her high-heeled foot into his stomach in an unexpected kick that left him winded, then carried the momentum through to deliver a punch that he only barely managed to block with an upturned arm.
“Pathetic,” she sneered at him, eyes bright and pulsing with silver. “If I'd known you'd be this easy I wouldn't have even brought the twins.”
“Not fair,” Jace laughed, suddenly appearing on Alexander's right. Alexander gathered himself then threw a punch with all the force he could muster. The bald man danced out of the way, laughing. His green-haired brother appeared on Alexander's other side. He was surrounded. God, how did human beings fight each other? Alexander's eyes flashed gold, and Shrike barked a warning to her men as he spun, driving a fist into the side of the green-haired man's head. This one connected with a sickening crunch and the green-haired man staggered into the bins.
“Rake! You good?”
The green-haired man spat blood and grinned – with his mouth open, Alexander could see that he was missing teeth.
“That the best you got, lizard boy?”
“Fight fairly, coward,” Alexander growled. “Face me in my true form —”
“No thanks,” Shrike scoffed, then kicked him again, hard enough that he felt the spike of her heel pierce his skin. There was blood in his mouth. Were humans truly this fragile? A blow connected with the side of his head, then another – he tried to block them, but he could feel the world revolving around him, dizziness trying to claim his vision. He dropped to his knees, arms raised in a desperate attempt to protect his head, and he felt the pack kicking him in the back, in the sides, in the legs. One well-placed blow to his chest knocked him down, and he curled up, gasping for breath, felt kick after kick raining onto his torso. Four ribs broken, maybe five – he spat blood, groaning. Even if he'd wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to muster the energy to shift. The only possible way out was to hang on to consciousness, to play dead long enough to maybe escape.
After a while, Shrike and the twins seemed satisfied – or maybe they grew tired of kicking him. At any rate, the flurry of blows ceased. Through a thick haze of pain and the acrid taste of blood in his mouth, Alexander could hear Shrike barking orders – she and Jace were going to get their leader. Rake would stay and keep an eye on Alexander and make sure nobody came down the alleyway until they returned with Jax. The Alpha, Shrike called him, and Alexander felt a thrill of fear despite himself. He was in no state to face a powerful shifter. These three would have been child's play if only he could have changed form.
Stupid. Arrogant, and stupid,
he chided himself. Was this it? Was this how Alexander, the King of his people, was going to die? Beaten to death by a scrappy pack of nobodies, trapped in this ignoble form in an alleyway?
He could feel himself losing consciousness, and he struggled to hold onto it. He could hear his sister's voice, scolding him for not training himself to fight in this form. His brother, making fun of him for getting caught out like this, for falling for such an easy trick. And then – well, he must have been hallucinating in earnest, because he could hear an unfamiliar woman's voice, yelling blue murder at Rake – and a strange hissing sound – and then Rake's voice, yelping in pain...
Chapter 4 – Lisa
It wasn't as though she was a stranger to raised voices. People yelled at each other more than they talked in this city – speaking at a regular or, God forbid, a polite volume was a good way to get ignored. Soon after arriving in New York she'd mastered the knack of adding a certain twang to her voice that made it cut through traffic and background noise at least well enough to be heard when ordering coffee. That was the most important thing, after all (she took another deep sip of hers. Once you found a good coffee shop, never let it go, that was perhaps the most important thing she'd learned about this city.)
So the raised voices in the alley outside didn't immediately flag her suspicion, though she did connect them almost immediately to the guy who'd nearly knocked her phone out of her hand on the way in here. Maybe their drug deal wasn't going so well, she thought with wry amusement. Dealing drugs probably made more money than being a relationship coach, but at least she could bill her clients without worrying about getting shot. Had any of them been carrying guns? Hard to tell – she hadn't gotten a good look at all of them, just the guy who'd bashed into her.