Shifters Forever Worlds Mega Box: Volume 3

by Thorne, Elle

  “I’ll pay.” She’d forgotten to use the magic words Mikhail had told her. He’d said nothing would get her as much help as money would.

  The door opened a slight bit. “How much.”

  “A thousand dollars. Cash.”

  He practically drooled. “For what?”

  “I’m looking for my sister. I heard you were a good tracker,” she paused, suspicion at the forefront, “if you’re Anthony.”

  “I am.” He shook his head, making his hair fall back, allowing her a better view of a face that was lean and haggard with a hungry expression. “Let me get my coat.”

  He closed the door, not inviting her in.

  Rude, she thought. But down deep, she was happy about it. Judging from the smells that wafted from the room behind him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in that stench.

  She walked toward the car that had brought her here. The driver stepped out. All muscles and hardcore expression. “All okay?”

  She nodded. “He’s coming.” I hope.

  No sooner had she said that than the lean shifter in a denim jacket that had seen better days slammed the door to the warehouse behind him and strolled her way, a Cheshire cat grin barely concealed on his thin lips.

  Until he saw the driver. He froze. “Who’s he?”

  “He’s the driver.”

  “No. He looks like he’s official. I don’t do official.”

  The driver’s face grew harder with a scowl. “What’s the problem?” He addressed the question to Alannah, ignoring the wolf shifter.

  Alannah shrugged, frustration setting in. This was not going to work. She had a sister to find.

  She stormed and stomped her way toward the wolf shifter and grabbed his jacket by the lapels. She held her breath against the smell of it.

  How the hell could a tracker—a shifter with supernaturally sensitive smelling abilities—stand that malodorous jacket. Or for that matter, his stinking home.

  Still not breathing, she drew her face close to his, nose to nose. “Look. You’re going to help me find my missing sister, and by damn, you’re not going to give me a bunch of shit. Now I’ll pay you—”

  She gulped because she’d have to borrow more from Mikhail for this one. He’d already let her borrow some for the trip, but this would take away every penny. She wouldn’t be able to buy a meal. Or anything. “—I’ll pay you fifteen hundred dollars.” She jerked on the jacket. “You got that?” She fought the urge to use magic on him. She knew shifters didn’t usually care for witches, especially the uneducated shifters, and this one, he seemed like he hadn’t made it passed third grade.

  At first, she thought she scared the piss out of him, but then again, she wasn’t that tall, or that formidable. So it wasn’t likely she did.

  But no, he was staring at something behind her. She chanced a peek.

  The driver was standing directly behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. “The lady asked you a question.”

  Great. Let’s hope he doesn’t scare off the guy.

  She gave the driver a sideways head nod, as if to say, get out of here, then said, “I got this. Thanks.”

  “He doesn’t scare me,” the wolf shifter grumbled.

  Sure, that’s why you almost pissed your pants. “He’s not trying to scare you.”

  Well, actually he was, but damn it, Alannah needed results. She’d say Santa was real if the shifter would agree to track Mireille.

  “You said fifteen hundred.”

  “I did.”

  “Show me. And half now, half after we find her.”

  “No.” Mikhail had warned her not to give him a penny until he helped her find her sister.

  Anthony did some grumbling under his breath, luckily she couldn’t decipher it, then he said, “Fine.”

  “And don’t ask to see it. Do I seem the nefarious type?”

  She wished she hadn’t asked that because he gave her the once over. She cringed at the feeling of his eyes checking her out, head to toe.

  “Fine. Have your driver take us to the last place she was. Hopefully a place that has a heavy dose of her scent so I can track her.” He looked at her feet. “You’ll need better shoes than those. We’ll be following her scent on foot. Surely, you don’t think I can do it in a car.” A sneer marred his already gaunt and creepy features.

  As if I know how this scenting thing works. She bit her tongue and nodded. “I’ll change at my sister’s place. That’s where we’re going.”

  Chapter Five

  This is ridiculous.

  Alannah had been following the wolf shifter for hours. She’d sent the driver away, confident she’d be able to handle the wolf shifter herself.

  I’m a witch, after all. I’m not some helpless, defenseless female.

  Blisters dotted her feet, even though she’d changed shoes. They’d walked the entire day and now it was late afternoon and they were in the countryside. She was beginning to doubt he knew what he was doing.

  “My sister wouldn’t have a reason to come out here.”

  “I’m just following her scent. You want to get yourself another tracker?”

  She blew out an exasperated breath and followed him.

  “If it’s any consolation,” he gave her a sideways glance, “the scent is stronger.”

  She perked up. “How much stronger?”

  “She’s been near here, and recently.”

  Suspicion clouded hope. He wouldn’t just say that, would he? Should know soon enough if he wasn’t lying, if they were close that was.

  An hour later, just when she was giving up hope, they were on an empty country lane, one that led to nowhere it seemed. She took out her phone, ready to call the driver.

  No signal.

  No way!

  Damn the luck.

  “There!” The wolf shifter’s voice was full of excitement. “I got her again. It’s strong. She can’t be far.” He took off at a lope, heading through the trees.

  Alannah’s heart surged with a jolt, pocketed her phone, and took off after him.

  Moments later, he drew up short. They were just exiting the wooded area. A home, old and isolated, faced them.

  The wolf shifter raised his nose to the air and took a deep breath, his skinny chest expanding with the air intake. He pointed. “She’s in there.” Then an expression took over his face, replacing triumph with fear.

  “My money.” He held out a shaky hand. “Now.”

  “Not ‘til I see my sister.”

  “Now.” His voice shook.

  “Our deal was that I find my sister. I don’t see her.”

  “She’s in there. Go.”

  “Go with me.”

  “You go. I’m not going any closer. I’ve met my obligation.”

  “I’m not paying you until I find her.”

  “I’ll find you if you don’t pay me.”

  And with those words from him, Alannah was stunned as his face lengthened. The excruciating sounds of bones stretching and tendons lengthening assaulted her ears.

  Within a swift moment, he was transformed into a mangy, gaunt wolf with accusation in his eyes as he looked back at her then took off at a dead run, leaving Alannah there, alone, with a house that seemed empty.

  All she had was his word that her sister was there. Something had scared him, but she had no idea what. It didn’t matter, whatever was scaring the wolf shifter wouldn’t keep her from finding Mireille if she was there.

  Shivering against the cold, something she’d been able to push to the back of her mind in her urgency to find her sister, Alannah surveyed the house and made her way through the bush-dotted field lightly blanketed with snow. The snow crunched beneath her shoes that were adequate for a walk in the park, but had definitely not served her well on today’s trek.

  In front of the two-story, brick and wood home, the driveway was empty of vehicles, but it had tracks.

  Tracks.

  Someone came and went here. Someone lived here. Judging from the light covering
of snow and the relatively small amount of snowfall, she’d say whoever drove that vehicle had left several hours ago.

  Would they be returning? Was Mireille with them?

  The hackles on Alannah’s neck rose. She doubted this. If Mireille was fine, she’d have contacted her; she’d have responded to calls.

  She approached the home, noting the darkness of all the windows, including the ones low to the ground that seemed to be in a basement. With a shrug, Alannah climbed the short staircase that led to the front door.

  She rapped on the door lightly and then with more force.

  No answer. No sound at all.

  A few more knocks, insistent and loud, and still nothing.

  She couldn’t have said what prompted her to do what she did next. Something though, something deep within her said she needed to check this place out.

  Now.

  A sound within fueled her urge to go inside. Was it a thud or a voice? It was muffled, and it wasn’t like witches were gifted with extraordinary hearing like shifters, so the sound was indiscernible.

  Alannah sprinted from window to window, seeking an entrance.

  Locked.

  Locked.

  Locked, also.

  Tears of frustration threatened to flow and she was at the point of seeking a rock to break a window—

  Not wise, she cautioned herself, breaking into a house in a foreign country.

  But she didn’t care. Something in her told her she needed to get inside.

  Locked.

  She ran to the next window on the back of the house, with one eye cast to the surrounding grounds, looking for whatever she was going to use to smash a window.

  She was more than a little surprised when the window gave.

  Unlocked.

  She stood back in disbelief for a brief pause, then shoved it up enough to dive in, headfirst.

  The place was semi-dark, the windows allowing barely enough light to see furnishings.

  She was in one of the bedrooms, that much was clear.

  Now what?

  Now to canvass the house quickly, see if Mireille was here and get her the heck out of there.

  And then I’ll kick my little sister’s butt for scaring the living daylights out of me by not returning calls.

  One by one, room by room, she scoured the first floor, opening all doors, peeking into all closets.

  Call it paranoia, but she didn’t call out. She didn’t want to test her luck.

  Nothing on the first floor. She’d cleared it in less than ten minutes.

  On to the second.

  Nothing on that floor either. Well, damn the luck. She also hadn’t seen any of Mireille’s belongings.

  Could the wolf shifter have been that wrong?

  Then a thought occurred to her.

  Why didn’t I think of that before? Or even first?

  Now, she grew a bit apprehensive.

  Scary shit happened in basements. In horror movies and real life. That’s where people were held captive.

  Don’t be silly.

  I’m not being silly, she argued with herself.

  Okay, say no one was down there, still there were creepy crawlies.

  And creepy crawlies scared the hell out of her. Alannah would rather deal with a rabid dog than an insect. Or a bat. Yeah, bats and rats qualified as creepy crawlies in her book.

  Might as well get it over with. She sighed and went downstairs.

  And as soon as I find nothing in the basement, I’ll have to hoof it until I get to a place where I have a signal. Then I’ll call that driver to come get me.

  And after that?

  After that, I’ll call Mikhail and find out if he has a better tracker.

  She found the basement door. Was surprised she’d missed it, but then again, she had been thinking it was a pantry door. What else was she to think, it being in the kitchen?

  She opened the door; it creaked.

  Great. More horror flick effects.

  She shuddered.

  There was a light switch on the brick wall. Might as well, she certainly wasn’t going to go poking around a basement in the dark, no sir, not a chance of that.

  The light lit a naked bulb.

  How much more unwelcoming could this be?

  She found out when she took a step on the rickety staircase. More like a ladder, really.

  One foot in front of the other, she made her way down the stairs.

  The fourth one creaked.

  Shit.

  Relax, she cautioned herself. There’s nothing down here to be afraid of. Nothing that will hurt me.

  “Let me out of here!”

  The screeching voice made her jump. She flinched and lost her footing, falling down the stairs, more than half a dozen of them and landed hard, face first, barely catching her fall with her palms.

  Which burned like hell, now, from abrasions and scratches.

  It took a few seconds for her to process that screeching voice.

  Probably because she’d never heard her sister sound like that. That had to be Mireille.

  “Mireille?”

  “Alannah?”

  Alannah jumped to her feet, flinching because every part of her felt like it had been a punching bag after that fall.

  The basement was segmented into separate cubby type rooms with thin partial walls that went up only five feet, not reaching the ceiling.

  “Where are you?” Alannah ran toward the sound of her sister’s voice, rounded one of the thin walls and stopped abruptly.

  “What the hell…” she hissed at the sight before her.

  “Don’t touch—”

  Too late. Alannah reached out and put her hand on the enclosure that held her sister captive.

  She flinched and fell back from the jolt. “What is that?”

  Mireille was in a cage that seemed to be made of silk threads. More like a cobweb, really, but thick, like a cocoon.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You have to get me out before he returns. Hurry.”

  “How? I can’t touch it.”

  “Grab that shovel.” Mireille pointed to a corner. “See if you can pry the web loose.”

  “Web? Who put you here? What’s this about?”

  “Who?” said a very deep voice behind her.

  Alannah whirled around.

  Chapter Six

  First things first, Hawke was definitely a man. So how could he not notice that delectable ass standing in front of his captive’s cage.

  Curved just right, tucked under, flaring at the hips, that was an ass unlike any he’d ever seen.

  He swallowed and shook his bear. Damned bear. Between Hawke’s bear and his testosterone…

  You’d think I’d never seen a woman before.

  Well, it had been a while, his bear responded.

  The creature with that remarkable derriere was talking to his captive.

  “Web? Who put you here? What’s this about?” Sweetcheeks said to his prisoner.

  Her voice. As delicious as that ass, even in the throes of panic, clearly.

  Since when do I get excited about a woman’s voice?

  His bear roared in his head.

  Simmer, he cautioned his bear.

  “Who?” he said to Sweetcheeks.

  She whirled around.

  Holy hell, that face was better than that ass. Red hair twirled with her, full lips set in a thin line that did nothing to disguise their sexiness, emerald eyes shooting toxicity as if she’d kill him if he was a threat.

  He couldn’t resist the smile that came to his face.

  “You.” She stormed closer. Hands raising above her head. “You did this to my sister.” She was fast. Her hands were high, and between them a blue flame flickered to life and grew.

  Witch.

  The same second he had that thought, Vengeance, who clearly had no love for witches, began to hiss on his shoulder. She raised on six legs, two legs thrust forward in her typical attack stance.

&n
bsp; The emerald-eyed witch cast her hands down fast, flicking her wrists, sending that blue bolt of flame for his head.

  Hawke dove for the ground as Vengeance leapt off his shoulder and set herself up a web line, dangling from the ceiling.

  The witch squealed as, equally fast, Vengeance shot a line of her enchanted silk toward the witch’s hands and bound them to her side.

  The witch screamed in fury, unable to raise her arms, unable to cast that blue flame.

  Who knows what other kind of spells she can cast.

  “Put her in a cell, Ven.”

  Vengeance began her web weaving, swiftly putting the other witch in a cage not unlike the other.

  In the background, the brown-haired witch was yelling at him from her cell. “Don’t you dare hurt my sister!”

  Figures. Sweetcheeks is a witch. And she’s my damned prisoner’s sister.

  Great. Just great.

  Would the bounty hunter that ordered the brown-haired witch want her sister? Were they both wanted by the Shifter Council?

  Probably.

  Ven was spinning away, the witch already enclosed in a cocoon, unable to move or break free. Then she’d remove the cocoon so the witch could move about freely within the confines of the cage.

  “Why are you doing this?” More emerald daggers from those eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  Alannah was confused. She couldn’t move her hands, and she couldn’t break free. And this man, this huge mountain of a man, was standing above her, watching, while his pet spider—she shuddered—was spinning a web.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He didn’t reply, just stood, eyeing that hairy legged, bug-eyed, beastie weave her into a prison.

  That beastie was a magic spider of some sort. What else could it be? It was weaving a web around her she couldn’t break free of. It had woven a web around Mireille that inflicted burns. For a man to have a magic spider, that meant he had to be a magic wielder.

  “Are you a warlock? Some sort of sorcerer?”

  He laughed at her. The nerve of him. He laughed at her question. Then his face turned hard. “Not a chance, Sweetcheeks.”

  “Don’t call me that!” She wriggled to get free of the woven bindings.

  The kind of spell she wanted to cast, she needed her hands.